#you could hold them each in the palm of your hand like coins for a beggar

[mooishbeam]

『♡』 Welcome Home, Kento!

♡ featuring: nanami kento x reader

♡ synopsis: nanami can't wait to return home to his wife and kids. little does he know, there's a lot of love waiting for him behind the door.

♡ wc: 2.4k+

♡ tags: nobara and yuji are your children, fanon, domestic fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, salaryman AU

notes: took a break on the capitano fanfic im working on cause domestic kento got me acting unwell i miss him and need him so bad. canon break but idc nobara and yuji are his kids and no one can tell me otherwise. art by getoad on ig! comments and reblogs are appreciated! ♡

Nanami Kento’s work seemingly never ended.  

Caught between meetings and printer jams, the small talk he endured with simple one-word answers, and the folders piling on his cold metal desk in a cramped cubicle, he was exhausted. Air conditioners blew frigid in the office, making small accidents unbearable. 

The only warmth he experienced throughout his shifts was the art exhibit on the back wall and a wooden frame, sitting not too far from his grasp. Next to the bulky outdated computer was a picture frame of you, sweating radiance despite the fluorescent wall lights, hair disheveled with tired eyes in your hospital gown. You’re holding a newborn Yuji, chubby with a soft hint of pink fuzz on his head. A one-year-old Nobara chose to nestle next to you through the blood and amniotic fluid sticking to your hands. Somehow smiling—blearily, but still smiling so hard your eyes practically close. 

The scene was not pretty; it burned into his memory, committing to the wrinkles in his brain so that he’d never forget your screams and undying strength. Even the grip on his hand, imprinting the wedding band into his skin when you forced a final push. He never averted his gaze, stroking your wet hair and kissing your throbbing temple; if he could alleviate some of your struggle for a moment, share in your pain for a second, he’d do it ten times over. You’re the mother of his children, after all, his wife and soulmate. 

He met you at a small bakery on the corner of a forgotten street after a double shift. Back turning in knots, cranky as ever with permanently furrowed brows. And when he’d order his favorite pastry—a chocolate eclair—only for it to disappear in the hands of another customer, he was downright irritated. Turning to the offender, the kinks in his muscles suddenly melted at the sight of your apologetic smile. Your apology dissipated in his ears, not managing to reach his cognition as he studied your stunning glow in the dim yellow lighting of that cafe.  

Before you could finish your offer to buy him double, his mouth moved ahead of his mind; “Would you like to sit together?” 

That was forever ago, though. Prior to him falling in love, to your laugh breathing life and color into him once again. To you becoming the soul reason he clocked in every day at a dead-end job he settled for. He was putty in the palm of your hand, but could you blame him? You were his salvation from the bitter, grey world he walked alone for years, and now even the sun felt warmer with you around. 

So, when days become thoroughly tedious such as this one, his eyes tend to wander. Once, twice to his watch, then to the countless drawings from Yuji and Nobara stuck to the cubicle. Yuji and Nobara were two sides of the same coin, regardless of the weekly sibling rivalry where he had to stop them from tearing each other’s hair out. Nanami wasn’t a man who chose sides which usually resulted in him taking both drawings from their art competitions, to the dismay of the sore winners. 

The old Nanami Kento would’ve hunched over the desk, mindlessly typing away past his shift ending, until his buzzing lamp was the sole light left in the office. Currently, he was dying to go home, nearly dreaming of seeing your faces, your “welcome home” as he opened the door. His printed tie is lax around his neck, shirt unbuttoned a little too low with an ankle crossed over the other knee, like nothing matters besides holding you at the end of the day. The digital clock rings, breaking him out of a trance and knocking the pen he’d been fumbling with out of his hands. 

Immediately he starts shoving papers in his briefcase, some crumpling and folding at the edges. He throws his suit jacket on, clocks out with the same vigor and heads for the door. 

“Nanami, wait a second!” his boss hollers from his office. He steps out, and Nanami barely spares him a glance.  

“We’re short-staffed right now, I’ll need you to stay behind-” 

“No.” 

His boss stands dumbfounded, and it takes a few business days for him to register that his demand was denied. He brushes his balding combover and clears his throat, “Excuse me?”   

“I’m going home to my wife.” 

“This isn’t up for discussion-” Suddenly, Nanami shoots a glare that stops him dead in his tracks. His legs are glued to the floor, like the senses of prey in proximity to a vulture. He appears to be his standard nonchalance, but with the way his jaw clenched, and his eyes bore through him, perhaps retracting his words was the best decision for his safety. 

“U-understood. Have a good weekend.” 

The city streets are serene following sundown, a calm breeze picking up rustling leaves that began to fall. He checks his watch again; just in time for dinner. He hurries up the townhouse steps of the brick building and clicks his key into the mahogany door. 

“Ahhh!” 

“Yuji, come here!” 

“Wahhh, black flash!” 

All the lights in the living room and kitchen are on, and blankets are thrown haphazardly around the floor. The television plays an obnoxiously loud cartoon, but it’s evident none of them are watching it based on the army of colorful toys piled on the couch, and a suspicious stuffed wolf plush sitting on the stairs with its head lopsided. An odd lone cookie lays half-eaten on the floor, and the kitchen counters are strewn with crumby flour and sticky batter. The faint aroma of something sweet lingers in the entryway. 

The best part is you, his wife, chasing after Yuji and Nobara in his dirty button up teal shirt with the sleeves rolled up. You’re all dripping in water, trailing sodden footprints around the house. Nobara comes around the kitchen island in a bath robe and towel headband, bunny ears bobbing as she drags a leash toy behind her popping plastic balls of rainbow pigments.  

Yuji, on the other hand, is completely naked minus a comical formation of bubbles around his lower half. He’s chasing her with a toy car foaming with soap and it soars in the air as he laughs and chants sound effects, “bam, black flash!”, pretending to launch it at her. The lot of you are circling the kitchen island, chaotic laughing and shrieking as Nobara’s toy bangs into the stools and cabinets. Just then, a wind-up robot taps Nanami’s foot and falls over. 

“Yuji stop chasing her!”  

“Ahhh!” 

“RAHH!” 

He’s never felt more at home in his life. 

He drops his briefcase, shrugs off his jacket and shoes and joins in. Yuji may be able to evade your grasp, but Nanami was an entirely different beast. You finally manage to intercept Nobara and scoop her in your arms, shaggy robe eclipsing her small cherubic pout. Nanami rushes around the corner and snatches Yuji upside-down, tiny damp feet pressed at his chin with his arms dangling in the air. Amid the chaos you hadn't noticed him, but when your kind eyes meet, a bright smile warms his cheeks, like the first time you met—he's smitten all over again.  

“Daddy!” Nobara screams. 

Yuji squeals and struggles wildly in Nanami’s hold. “I win” he declares. 

“Noo you don’t, not fair!” He tries to escape but Nanami has an iron grip, and you place Nobara on the counter while you get Yuji. He passes him off to you, “Sorry, you’re covered in water now.” He tilts your chin and plants a chaste kiss, skimmed traces of yearning. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve been missing you all day.” 

“Really?” He hates when you ask that, because truthfully, he misses you incessantly. It borders on obsession. The second you leave his sight, he’s wondering when you’ll return, if he could go with you, should it be a family outing, should he follow you? He’ll stir in the thoughts that totally encompass you; you, you, you, until you come back to him. 

“Of course, my love.” Yuji grumbles an annoyed noise and tucks his head in your neck. “Trouble in paradise?” he adds, a tinge of sarcasm. You giggle, brushing the drenched strand of hair from your face, “Yuji really fought the bath today.” 

“Black flash!” he yells, firing his baby fist in the air. Nanami makes a feigned noise of pain to throw his head back and clutch his heart. “C’mon now, let’s finish up” you tell him. As you’re dragging him down the hallway to the bathroom, his defiant wails fade to silence. 

Nanami cleans up the disarray with Nobara’s help. She throws the toys in the toybox, a proud look on her face while Nanami stacks the blankets in a lump on the couch and sweeps the crumbs from the floor. He felt a bit guilty putting a damper on the fun, but winding down the kids for bedtime was most important, and Nobara would gladly change into her dinosaur pajamas if that meant she could spend some time with dad.  

Yuji arrives as a tired, messy-haired but less stinky version of himself, wearing an alien onesie. You’d clearly won the great bath war. 

But a growing scent floods the kitchen, mild smoke emitting from the stove skillet. 

The skillet? 

Shit. 

“Ohh, no no no”, you run to grab a spatula and remove the skillet from the burner. The pancake facing you seems unharmed, perfect even with a nice fluffy texture. You fan the smoke away with a kitchen towel and Nanami approaches you. He looms over the pan, “Pancakes?” 

“Yeah, Yuji wanted pancakes and Nobara wanted chicken nuggets. So, we did both” you say, scraping the underside of it. The crackling of something crispy doesn’t do much to ease your doubts. “Looks good to me-” 

You flip the pancake, and it’s fully burnt.  

Solid black with a thin trail of smoke billowing. You both stare at it in silence. Then you look at each other, and Nanami bursts out laughing. Tears collect at his eyes, and he’s doubled over with his head on your shoulder, a hand around your waist. You sigh in defeat, “Does it still look good to you?” 

“I’ll eat it if it makes you happy.” 

“I’m not trying to kill my husband.” He hums and kisses your cheek. “I’m sorry, I tried to have dinner ready for when you got home. Lost track of time.” 

The last thing he’d want is for you to feel bad about such trivial matters. He hugs you from behind, whispering in your ear, “Don’t worry, it’s enough. Everything you do is enough.” Yuji abruptly hits his leg, and he peers down. “I wanna hug mommy too!” 

“Get in line. She’s my mommy right now” he teases. You giggle when Yuji tries to wedge between your bodies, and Nanami holds his head back like a bull charging at a fence. 

When they’re done eating their chicken nuggets, and he convinces Yuji that celery tastes better than pancakes, you snuggle up for the night. Weekends lasted later into the night, but regardless they had to stay on schedule. It was his favorite part of the week, where you dimmed the lights, he lit the fireplace and crowded on the floor of a striped blanket fort in the middle of the living room. Yuji rested his head on a pillow with his favorite wolf plush while Nobara laid on your stomach. 

“In the light of the moon, a little egg lay on a leaf” you start, holding the book with one hand. Nanami always opts to sit outside of the fort. One, because he’s too tall for it. And two, he likes to see your face reading peacefully in the rare tranquility of a hissing fireplace. You were so gentle and nurturing that at times he found it hard to pull himself away from your face, sinking in pure adoration. 

“One Sunday morning the warm sun came up and”, you wind up your hand and tickle Nobara. “Pop! —out of the egg came a tiny and very. Hungry. Caterpillar.” You tap her nose in line with the words.  

Nanami understood why the kids enjoyed your story time over his monotone one. He couldn’t get past the first page before Yuji started to complain and Nobara began to space out. “He started to look for some food” you dance your fingers down her spine like a caterpillar would, and she faintly smiles. 

Yuji normally falls asleep first, snoring like a grown man as he drools into the pillow. Then Nobara will drift quietly, to the point where you barely realize she’s dreaming. Then you, fighting sleep as you gaze up at Nanami, forcing yourself to make conversation in a half-groggy state. Your hair is jumbled and the shirt you stole from the hamper bunches at your waist. Here, he feels fulfilled. Irrevocably whole. 

“How was your day, sweetheart?” you drawl. His heart flutters at the pet name, caressing your face with his thumb. “The usual” he replies, just as soft and tender, “it felt longer today.” 

“Mm? Why?” He picks up on a croak in your voice, a sign you’ll be sleeping soon. “I couldn’t wait to come home.” 

A pleased noise rumbles at the back of your throat. “Let’s go to the beach. It’ll get too cold soon.” 

“Tomorrow?” 

“Mhm”, you run your hand over his, leaning into his touch, “maybe we could invite Gojo and his kids.” 

“Hell no, that guy’s a nutcase.” You laugh, hushed and weak. He kisses your forehead. “Goodnight, my love.”  

“No, I’m not sleeping yet” you groan in spite of closing your eyes. “Then what are you doing, right now?” 

“Mm. Just resting them.”  

He smirks, aware of what happens right after that. He kisses your nose, then your velvety lips. He can’t shake the fact that he’d found someone like you, someone who’d love him unconditionally, accept his flaws and dry humor and stand by his side under any circumstances. It almost felt undeserved, like that bakery incident should’ve earned him a slap to the face instead of your sweet nature, swelling his heart and pulling him deeper. His only treasures, laid in front of him in a cozy cuddle pile.  

Before he could get up to turn the lights off, a soothing utterance of your voice, words he’d been waiting for since he opened the door. 

“Welcome home, Kento.” 

© mooishbeam - please don't steal, copy, or post my work to other platforms :)

[rockstvrdotcom]

"AIN' IT RIGHT?" HOBIE BROWN X FEM! READER

tags: degradation, hobie takes a photo, choking, hatefuck at first but then its not, mentions of marijuana, fingering, piv sex

"i fucking hate you." you said as you grinded against hobie roughly, your hand wrapped around his throat in a bruising grip, your free hand on his shoulder. you had him pinned against the floor, your knees on either side of his legs. panting as a silky sheen of sweat coated your forehead.

"and i fuckin' love you. hate 'nd love are two sides of the same coin, aren't they?" he snickered, guiding your hips against his as the bulge in his pants grew beneath you. you were both on hobie's apartment floor getting fuckin' nasty.

he could feel your fingers digging into the sensitive flesh of his shoulders and he couldn't care less, the pain mixing with the pleasure and sending shocks straight to his painfully hard dick.

he watched you lean down, a mere inches away from his face as you continued to roll your hips against his. "just shut your fuckin' mouth." you muttered against his perfectly plump lips, his lip piercing shining in the dimly lit room.

you crashed your lips into his, roughly kissing him as you bit his bottom lip; making him wince as his grip on your hips tightened.

his hand roamed down his own body before stopping at his belt, unbuckling it with one hand before he tossed it to the side. the studs scraped on the wood floor, creating a sound that wasn't pleasant to anybodies ears.

as you broke the kiss, your hand let go of his shoulder to take off your pants; leaving you in only your panties. despite your harsh words, you were absolutely soaked— your arousal seeping through the thin fabric of your underwear.

hobie took notice of that, a cocky ass smirk on his face that you hated so damn much. "you don' hate me as much as you say you do. ain' it right?" he chuckled.

you were about to bite back until you saw him spit on his middle and ring finger. you felt as if your insides were melting as he pushed your panties to the side and shoved his fingers past your entrance; eliciting a moan from you.

"slag said she hates me yet she's soakin' up my fingers..." he laughed with pride, curling his long slender fingers up to hit that perfect sweet spot that made your legs feel like jelly and your brain like mush. your knees buckled as you gripped his shoulders for purchase.

his free hand explored the curve of your ass while his calloused fingers thrusted in and out of you, smirking at the lewd expression you had on your face. "f- fuck.. hobie." you choked out in a murmur, his fingers hitting all the right spots.

"yeah, that's right." he grunted into your ear, gripping the supple flesh of your ass tightly. his palm bumped against your clit each time he stuffed his fingers in your greedy hole in a way that made the coil in your stomach tighten.

"need you.." you pleaded, grinding against the rough palm of his hand. he hummed in response, taking his fingers out of you with a pop, holding them up to your mouth and prodding at your lips.

"suck them, luv." he said, and you complied; wanting nothing but for him to be inside of you. you tasted yourself on his fingers, tongue swirling around them.

suddenly, he took them out. placing them in his own mouth and sucking with a chuckle, tasting your saliva on his fingers before they went down to take off his pants and toss them aside just like he did to his belt earlier.

"beg f' me, love. show me ya don't hate me 'nd maybe i'll give ya what ya want.." he whispered into your ear, warm breath against your skin; smelling like chocolate and marijuana. you were reluctant at first, your pride getting in the way.

but as he began to reach for his belt and pants, you stopped him. "h- hobie, please.. i need it so bad. i don't hate you." you whined, grinding your ass against the bulge in his boxers.

"not enough." he tch'd, gripping your hips so they came to a stop, making you complain. all he responded with was a shake of his head.

"please, hobes. need you 'nd your cock so fucking bad, please, i love you so damn much." you begged mindlessly, not catching the way his beautiful brown eyes lit up the moment you said the simple word love; not catching the way his grip on your hips tightened slightly, grinding up into you slowly as he chewed his lip to bite back a smile.

he took out his cock, jerking it off slowly before bending you over his couch, cigarette burns and the smell of his cologne staining the rough fabric. he teasingly ran his dick through your folds, his cold metal piercing grazing over your clit and pulling a quiet mewl out of you.

he chuckled, "ready, luv?" he asked, and the second you nodded your head yes you could feel his tip breaching you. you clenched around him as his cock was halfway in you, making him groan at the tightness.

"such a nice fuckin' pussy.." he muttered before bottoming out inside of you, balls slapping against your clit and making you moan. his dick was so big it felt like you were being stretched by him for the first time all over again. he made sure you were comfortable before beginning to thrust slowly; almost making you mad with how slow he was going.

"faster!" you whined, wincing when you felt a sharp pain on your ass; the sound of a slap echoing in the room. a whimper of pain and pleasure escaped you, twitching around his cock.

"didn't know you were such a slut." he shook his head in mock disappointment as he began to thrust in and out of you faster and harder— feeling his dick piercing scrape against your sensitive walls with each thrust, your eyes rolling back as you chanted a mantra of 'fuck''s and 'yes!''s.

"so big.." you manage to babble out in between whimpers and moans. hobies heart and dick swelled with pride, increasing his pace; his tip kissing your cervic with each thrust.

after a few thirty minutes that flew by like seconds, you felt your orgasm approaching. a fucked out look on your face as you drooled onto the couch's cushions beneath you, "i- i'm— ngh! fuck. hobie.. 'm cumming!" you managed to get out before your eyes rolled back in pure ecstacy.

you came all over his cock, clenching tightly around him and making him grunt in response. you clawed at the cushions, gripping them tightly as you let out a broken moan, your arousal gushing out of your spent pussy and coating hobies cock.

he continued to thrust and make you whine, incoherently talking about how it was too much and somehow— he understood you. "shh.. you can take it. i know you can, fuckin' slag." he mumbled into your ear as your knees buckled beneath you, just slumping over the couch with hobies grip on your hips as the only support keeping you up.

but you could tell he was close too, his hips stuttering against yours; his cock twitching inside of you and his pace increasing. he let out a loud groan, pulling out.

he jerked his dick off before cumming all over your ass in thick milky spurts. he scooped some of his cum up with his fingers, shoving it inside of you and keeping his fingers in there as a plug.

you heard him rustling to get his jeans, pulling something out of the pocket but you were too fucked out to care as you heard a click and saw a light flashing.

he shoved his phone in your face, barely having enough energy to look at it. it was a picture of your ass, covered in his cum and his fingers inside of you. "this is for me, yeah? nobody else gets to see you like this but me." he assured you he wouldn't show anybody else, getting your nod of approval.

"now lets get you cleaned up, sweets."

-

sorry that i literally died for like weeks but im back now </3 WHOS READY FOR KINKTOBERRR 🗣🗣

also not proofread so please lmk for any mistakes or anything i could do to improve!

[azsazz]

Tethered

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Trying a little something different here...not sure how I'm going to explain it yet, but this fic is more of a fantasy aspect than my other fics.

Warnings: Mentions of burns and death.

Word Count: 3,569

_________________________________________

Pain.

The first thing you recognize when you come to is pain. That, and the darkness.

It consumes you from all angles, a darkness so deep and ancient it feels otherworldly. It coils around you like a frightened snake, smothering what little air you’re able to choke down. You blink once, twice, to attempt to clear your vision, but the black coating the space around you doesn’t so much as shift.

It’s how you know you’re in deep shit.

A sharp pounding pierces your skull, preventing you from shoving your shaky arms beneath your aching body and pushing to your feet. The feeling is worse than that of any wound bestowed upon you up until this point. Not even the King of Hel’s rigorous training or your mother’s disappearance had been so painful.

There’s a gnawing so deeply in your bones that you wonder if the feeling has always been with you, if you’ve somehow become accustomed to the feeling of your body screaming in agony.

Growing up in Hel, you should be used to such things.

Sunbursts spot your vision, the bleeding eclipses warring with the darkness. You hold your breath for a beat or two, trying to force your pulsing heart to calm. Exhaling slowly doesn’t help, only forces your breathing to become shakier.

It’s eerily silent, save for your panting breath. The screams of agony still ring in your ears, the King of Hel’s malicious laugh accompanying them as he splays himself across his throne, grinning at the two maidens sat in his lap.

As you scramble to gather your bearings, you wrack your muddled mind for where you might be and how you survived. You take inventory of as much as you’re able—the sharp flares of pain in your ribs, jagged and harsh with each inhale and exhale you take, and there’s a ringing in your ears that gives even the wailing spirits of Hel a run for their coin.

Hel. The last thing you remember was standing before your King, the sovereign of the underworld. He’d smirked down at you from his throne made of obsidian and bones, towering over not only you, but the entirety of Hel itself. The wicked curve of his lips and piercing dark eyes had only forced you down to your knees by looks alone.

You had not wanted to meet the gaze of your ruler, always hated his attention on you, but as one of his favored, you were often in his presence. Forced into doing his dirty work because of what you were born into, powers that were unlike anything in either Hel nor Haven, a one-of-a-kind ability he sought to take advantage of.

Your glittering quiver had been strapped across your back, and the image comes back to you vividly—clutching the grip of your bow as the King sealed your bargain with a red-hot hand to your skin and a wicked grin on his face.

A shuddering inhale makes your nose scrunch. You can still smell the remnants of your burning flesh beneath his palm.

You had nearly passed out from the pain. Maybe you did, because no matter how much you furrow your brows and wrack your brain, you can’t seem to figure out how you ended up where you are now, face down on the cold, hard ground.

Reaching out blindly for the bow that’s fallen from your fingers, you groan, the long sleeve of the silky white shirt you don beneath your armor brushes against the sensitive mark on your forearm. Your fingers creak as you uncurl them, rubble and debris scratching against your hand, burying deep beneath your nails as you search for your weapon.

The lightweight of your quiver is comfortable at your back. You choke down a shuddering groan as you lift your wings, biting your lip at the tenderness you feel at your back. They seem to be in one piece, as you twist them this way and that, only throbbing dully with bruises. Creatures of all sorts could be lining the darkness surrounding you, and you understand that you’re taking too long to rise, the shadows and nightmares of The Void keeping you off balance.

The King must have had one of his goons throw your hardly-conscious body into The Void after your bargain sealed. That’s how you ended up here. A spine cracking shudder makes bumps rise on your skin as your body stills.

Stories of The Void come rushing to you, and if you try hard enough, you can smell the lingering scents of the other worlds’—a smoldering smoke as black as The Void surrounds you, cloying your throat in thick waves as if trying to choke you, brand you with the reminder of where you are to return to. Cutting through the utter wickedness is the sharp perfume of something other, a fresh breeze lined with citrus that must be a figment of your imagination because there is no scent like that in Hel, nor breeze in The Void. It simply is.

It must be Haven, you decide. You only recognize the heavens from stories trickled down through the rift of worlds, from picturesque stories and secrets in shadow.

You haven’t known anything other than Hel. You cannot recall your father, hardly any of your mother, nor how you ended up in the King’s care. All you remember from your earliest memories are the soothing tones of your mother when you were young and scared, calming you in her arms before you ended up with the King, and the gleaming bow you never go without.

Forged by a millennia-old weapons-master, you’d been gifted the very weapon you seek now. No one knows how it had gotten to her—not even the King himself—only that the exquisite piece had come from the best battlement blacksmith Hel had to offer. You were no older than eight, eyes rounded with wonder at the sight of the gleaming gold bow settled on your bed, matching quiver and arrows accompanying it.

You shove the thoughts away. Your heart leaps into your throat the longer you search for your weapon. The pain zipping up your body help to focus you, and the strain threatens to give out as your fingers finally find the familiar metal grip of your bow. You hold on tightly and drag it to you, feeling the weapon for signs of damage.

Your bow soothes you as you trace your fingers across the solid gold riser. You know this weapon better than you know yourself. You could be blind and know the inside outs of your beloved weapon, like you are now, vision clouded with black as your fingers slide down the string, taut and flexible as ever.

Once you’re satisfied with the condition of your bow, you attempt to rise. The thick robes you’re clothed in had broken none of the fall. They’re heavy against your body as you struggle to gain your footing, stretching your wings wide to balance. The fabric brushes against your wound and you bite back a yelp at the pain that burns through you like a wildfire.

You had thought that without parents or a family to lose there would be nothing for the King to hold over your head, to force you into his tricks and deals, for him to rip away for his enjoyment, but the wretched ruler always found a way. You clenched your teeth so hard that you thought they would crack as you were forced to your knees before him, glaring daggers up at the beautiful ruler while he only grinned like a wolf, licking over those sharpened canines like he was out for your blood. Again.

He hadn’t let you agree to the terms of your bargain until you screamed.

Shoving to your feet, you splay your arms wide for balance. The harsh ground offered no grip beneath your boots and the blackness does little to help you stay stable. You try to keep your breathing calm when it sharpens as you look around. There’s nothing but the darkness and yourself, not a pinprick of light to guide you nor a sound to be heard. Not even your own thick-soled shoes make noise as you test a step forward.

The silence doesn’t break and the prowling creatures that reside in The Void don’t stir. Beings of nightmares, you’d been told when you were only a child and before your mother was taken from you. Your imagination couldn’t be sated when you were young, always begging for more and more stories of the world outside of Hel, questioning why you weren’t allowed to go anywhere else.

You hated the fires and heat of Hel, always burning a spot in your mind or your skin. You craved more, to see the open sky instead of storming clouds of thick smoke that perpetually covered Hel in charcoal waves. You yearned to see the stars and the moon and the heavens of Haven, with their buttery sunrises and dreamy dusks.

Your mother’s face is a long-forgotten memory, but the stories she told are not. Tales of animals and creatures so large, fit with razor-sharp teeth and glowing eyes stalking around The Void, monstrosities that not even the King of Hel could conjure.

Okay, you remind yourself, shaking the worry from your head. It’s time to make a move.

You’re sitting prey if you don’t. The feathers are a familiar comfort brushing your fingertips as you reach over your shoulder, sliding a singular arrow from the quiver with ease. The gold tipped point sings as it’s unsheathed from its home at your back and you notch it in the bowstring with controlled practice. It’s a motion that keeps your hands from shaking and soothes your breathing, a warrior at the ready, should any of the nightmare’s attack.

As you move, you realize that making your way through the darkness is no easy feat. Not a sound to guide your way nor a flicker of a torch to assess your surroundings. There is only darkness and silence and it beats at you with each tentative step you take. Slow progress is still progress, you try to remind yourself, but you can’t help but feel as if you’re talking in circles, the maze of shadows spinning your sense of direction, offering no reprieve.

Even the scents of Hel and Haven have faded, though you feel better about the former washing from your senses. If only the perfumed scent of Haven remained—you’d gladly follow the trail right up to the heavens, King of Hel be damned.

It had once been a dream to see Haven in all of its glory…before you realized that there was no escaping Hel, no escaping the King and his sinful grins and wicked games.

A sound forces her to still, limbs locking up before you force yourself to steady your stance and take aim, squinting through the black. Your pointed ears perk as you listen intently, not daring even a shallow breath. A soft noise sounds, like a cloth brushing across glass. It’s fleeting, morphing all too quickly into a screeching, grating noise that reverberates in your bones. Talons. They. Sound so similar to those of the King’s hounds giving chase down the long halls of his palace that there is no doubt in your mind the creature stalking you could shred you limb from limb.

The noise ricochets against the hard ground of The Void, echoing off of the nothingness that surrounds you. It makes your head spin, torso twisting to follow the movement as you search desperately. For the source.

Standing frozen, boy taut as you strain to glimpse any sign of where the lurking creature may be, a barely recognizable purr accompanies the grinding claws. With the darkness of The Void swallowing all movement, it feels as if the noises are consuming you, echoing in all directions and baffling your sense further.

Glowing, white eyes blink open, startling you. Your heart skips a beat in your chest as you jump, tightening your grip on your weapon and swinging it in the direction of the lurking beast, the tip of your arrow aimed right between those bright eyes.

You don’t dare more, though the smart thing to do would be to release the sharp-tipped arrow the beast’s way, but the creature doesn’t move. It blinks slowly, sleepily at you with its gleaming eyes, staring at you as if it’s curious instead of the horrifying nightmare the King and others had warned you about.

You curse silently as it stands. You’re pinned by those unnervingly bright. Eyes as it bounds closer. A reflection of what you’ve heard the moon looks like lies within its stare, though you don’t think the creature has seen the luminous beacon in the sky either. In the low light reflecting from its gaze, you catch sight of the sharp teeth as the nightmare licks its maw, and the pointed talons that clack against the stone ground as it closes in on you.

You could run. You can turn around and spring through the darkness for your life, pray to Haven that you don’t trip over a worse dark-dwelling beast, but with the deep ache in your bones you know that you won’t make it far fast enough.

The King of Hel hadn’t been lying when he taunted you with how terrifying these beasts could be.

You wonder for a fleeting moment if the ruler of Hel even expected you to make it out of The Void.

Heart racing in your chest, for the first time since you’ve mastered your bow, your fingers tremble around the taut string. You can let lose an arrow between its glowing hot eyes. There’s no falter in your aim, even with the miniscule shake. If you will it, your arrow will strike true.

The prowling beast halts only meters from you. Your heart pounds loudly in your chest and the beast must be able to hear it beating against your golden breastplate from the way that it cocks its head and blinks up at you. It nearly reaches your chest and you swallow harshly, knowing that one wrong move will have the beast snapping at you. You hardly breathe as lips curl away from blade-sharp teeth that glint in the glow of its blinding eyes.

There are only a handful of seconds to decide your next move—to bare your own teeth and show the creature what you’re made of, firing the gold-tipped arrow, or stand down and hope that the predator does the same.

One breath, two, and you watch the creature lower itself onto its haunches. Your hands fall to your side in relief. The arrow is a surety in your grasp as you slowly sheath it back in place at your back. A surety that if the beast attacks, you’d be even more of a fool than the King ever claimed.

Following your movements with bright eyes, the growling of the beast falters, then quiets. It straightens, sitting taller, more menacing, and nearly meets your gaze straight on. It stares at you until your empty hand is back at your side, bargain mark throbbing as it brushes against your cloak.

You’re just as confused as the creature across from you, staring at each other like two sides of the same coin. It’s like you know the beast, seen it in your dreams or heard tales about it from your mother, but your mind is muggy, and you can’t grasp where the familiar feeling is from. You see yourself in its eyes, lost in the darkness with no light to guide you out.

As if the creature understands this, it dips its chin to study you.

Its breath is balmy against your throat and it sends shivers up your spine. Your lip’s part to gasp at the same time the creatures open to taste your scent, deciding if you’re a threat or not. The heaving breaths against your skin tickle, but there’s nothing funny about the way the creature stills, as if the raging beast wants to slash through your delicate flesh, to feel your hot blood sticky beneath its paws.

“Help me,” you dare whisper. It’s spoken as quietly as your voice allows, but the sound carries into the void as if you screamed it.

A howl answers that makes you flinch and itch to press your palms against her ears. It hadn’t come from the beast before you, who snuffs in response, its full row of teeth reappearing as its eyes narrow, staying tightly locked on you.

“Help me,” you plead, desperation clinging to your words. You need to get out of here, need to breathe the night air and see the real moon and feel its silvery rays upon your skin just once, you need to find somewhere safe so you can begin working towards what you came here for, why the bargain mark burns with every movement. Your freedom. It’s all you want from the King, from Hel, to be able to roam as you please, leaving the underworld to find something greater.

You want to remember something other than the harrowing sights of Hel, than the King’s sharp smile mocking you every time you close your eyes. The things he’s made you do, the things you’ve made yourself do. This cannot be the end.

You won’t let it be.

“I’m trying to find Velaris,” you continue when another yip joins the first. A hunting party, likely moving this way. The sounds are closer this time, but the darkness doesn’t allow you to gauge just how far they roam or how many there are. Your gaze sweeps around as if the soft light emitting from the beast’s eyes will allow you to see the others. The blackness leers in response, no longer the sinister silence but instead filled with a terrifying array of noises that will only enhance the harrowing nightmares that plague you. “I need to find the city.”

Your fingers tighten around the handle of your bow but the action does nothing to ease the worry eating at you.

Maybe it’s the raw despair in your tone or the glistening look in your eyes or the thunderous beating of your heart that makes the beast take pity on you.

Blinking up at you, the creature slinks closer, damp snout pressing into your hand. You hold back the flinch at the coldness of it, and it gives you a gentle nudge as if to say, ‘Why didn’t you say so?’

Releasing a sigh of relief, the beast allows you to press your hand to the top of its furry head as it leads you towards further darkness. The creature’s mane is soft and thick between your uneasy hold, leaving you to wonder if this being isn’t a menacing creature bred to hunt within The Void, but one that had been just as scared as you.

The howls of creatures around them die down as you’re lead through black. You don’t know if you should be breathing easier or harder when the noises die out completely, leaving your breathing and the clacking of the beasts claws against the stony ground as the only sounds as you walk.

Blinking, you are convinced your mind is playing tricks on you at first, as you begin making out different shapes. Black turns to a deep navy, then lighter until you can see silhouettes of trees and mountains beyond. The hard stone turns to soft earth laden with thick grasses reaching nearly to your knees.

The air is sharp, crisp with the oncoming scent of a storm. Your head snaps towards the sky, searching for a star, the moon, anything you can to ensure you’ve ended up in the correct place, but thick, rumbling clouds cover every inch of the star-smattered sky.

Disappointment floods your veins with ice. You’d been wishing to see for yourself since you were a child and your mother had spoken so highly of the bright splotch in the sky, and it has gnawed at you as you grew into the female you are now, proud and strong.

With a disheartened sigh, you turn to face the creature who’d been leading you through the darkness, only to find it gone. You hadn’t felt the beast slip from your grasp, entranced on the opportunity to see the beautiful night sky. It had disappeared on those stealthy paws, dipping from your hold and back into the swallowing darkness of The Void.

It looms behind you, an open, cavernous mouth that seems to creep slowly, consuming the trees and stars and sky. You wonder if it had somehow consumed the moon, if The Void is a living being all its own—a trap waiting patiently to devour what wanders into its well laid snare.

A shudder works its way up your spine as you stare. You know well that you will be back, when it is time to return to Hel with the King’s prize, and then and only then, will you have your freedom.

The word burns your skin just thinking about it. A time where you will be able to roam freely from the nightmares of Hel, doing as you please without the King there to loom and rule over you. The taste of the salty night breeze is only a tease of what you will soon have.

[lostintransist]

Tomorrow From Before | Part 1

Reader's callsign is Lynx, used in place of name.

CW: Violence, that's all this chapter.

The only nice thing about being pulled up into the 141 had to be the single room. Not having a roommate would let you put up with a lot. The lot that you put up with now would send a lesser soldier to the nuthouse.

You had stumbled over so many odd dynamics in the team. Meeting Price had gone well. He wasn’t terribly old and while he felt like an overworked father, you were grateful to have someone you could solidly place your trust in. Your last leader had been a nepo baby, and while he kept his job your partner had been KIA due to his leadership choices.

Roach scared the shit out of you. He stared. He didn’t try to talk to you, just stared. It got a bit easier when he offered you a controller and then promptly kicked your ass at Mario Party, but he still scared you. Gaz was nice enough, if a bit cool and reserved. Ghost and Soap had to be lovers. You would be your challenge coin collection on it.

Something about the way the two of them either circled each other like planets locked in orbit or touched in the slightest hint of ways is how you clocked it. You couldn’t decide if no one else knew or if they didn’t care. Fraternization rules be damned you guess. You weren’t in charge of them and wouldn’t take the heat for them getting caught.

Price had everyone running drills today. These drills were different than what you were used to. Each member of the team had to pair up with one other member, run the course, then run it again with a different member. You figured you were the reason for these drills. These guys had several missions under their belts of working together. As the outlier Captain Price wanted to reduce the friction of newness between you and everyone else. It was a good plan.

It would have been a good plan. Should have been. It all fell to shit on your first run.

The 141 had been running the drill alongside the 261, an airborne as opposed to ground crew like them. Should have been fine. They should have stepped up when the fight started when you got dragged into it for daring to visibly exist in a fem-shaped body.

A sergeant with a little man complex and little man syndrome caught you by the braid as you cleared the last room with Gaz. Your boot to the inside of his knee and a backhand across his face shocked him enough that you slipped through the door to freedom. Sergeant barreled after you, catching you under the arm with a shoulder and tossing you a few feet away.

You landed funny, one knee down and one up. The seconds it took you to right had him right on top of you. This is where your teammates should have stepped in. Where they failed you the first time. Right hook to the face split your lip and sent you directly into the open palm that caught you in the ear.

A pain unlike any you had ever experienced knifed through your ear. Disoriented you returned the blows.

Punch, he batted it away. Good that let you step in. Body shot followed by an uppercut to his chin. His teeth snapped together in a satisfying click that you hoped would leave a mark.

Nailing him between the legs with his eyes on the sky he drops to his knees before you.

“That is enough!” Someone yelled. You think it is from the left of you.

Your eardrum has to be ruptured. No tension on the thin skin meant a lack of pinpoint hearing. Stepping back you wipe at your mouth with the back of your hand.

Stringy, bloody, spittle coats your wrist to knuckle.

A man you’ve never seen starts yelling in your face.

“What company are you?”

“141.”

“Price’s?”

You nod once sharply.

“I’ll leave him to deal with your punishment for this altercation.”

He rounds on the sergeant still holding his jewels, must be his captain from the dressing down.

Stepping away from the verbal lashing you end up standing in front of the team, scanning for Price.

“You uh,” Soap is speaking to you. “You got something here.”

He points to the side of his neck just below the earlobe.

Fuck. You must be bleeding.

“Sorry? What was that? I COULDN’T HEAR YOU PAST MY BLOWN-OUT EARDRUM!”

No one says anything. They all stare, stone sentries.

“That’s what I thought fuckers.”

You spit the blood that had collected in your mouth and on your tongue on the dirt between your boots and theirs.

“Tell Price I’ve gone to medical and will report at his office in one hour for my punishment.”

“Yep, that’s ruptured.”

The nurse practitioner pulled the otoscope back and her face with it. Stepping around the elevated table you sit on she checks your other ear.

“I felt the membrane tear, I know it’s ruptured. What do I do for it?” You sit still as the plastic piece tickles the inside of your ear.

“Pretty easy actually,” she tossed the cap into the garbage and hung the light back on the wall. “Don’t get any water in it, so showers only, no diving for the next four to six weeks. If you have any leakage or pain come back and we will check for an infection.”

Sliding on the backless wheeled stool the nurse pulls out her notepad, writing down your excuse note for Captain Price. Ripping off the single small page she hands it to you.

“Oh, and if you have to sneeze? Open your mouth.”

Taking the square with a nod you hop off the table.

“Cut them some slack, if you can.”

Glancing down at the nurse she answers the question in your face.

“They nearly lost everyone the entire 141 in the past few months to an American General and an American contractor. Brass threw an accomplished American into the lion’s den to see if they were still tamable.”

The indifference, coolness, and even hostility all made sense now.

You stalk out of the room and out of the clinic without a word to anyone. Everyone who passes you glances from your lip to the dark look in your eyes and shifts from your path. The twenty-minute walk to Price’s office is not enough to cool your rage.

Standing at the solid door you knock, and wait. Twenty seconds pass before the door opens. Ghost, Soap, Roach, and Gaz all trailed out of the office. None of them looked at you, their eyes trained on the floor. You focus on the narrow gaps their bodies allow to see Price staring daggers after them. Once Gaz leaves the door frame you step in and shut the door.

The buzzy overhead lights had been turned off, a few small laps lit the space instead.

“Thanks for coming by. Sit,” Price gestures to the standard-issue chairs in front of his desk.

You settle in, placing the nurse’s note in the center of his desk. Leaning back you watch him, this British captain. You thought about what had been shared with you. Were you a lamb for the slaughter?

Waiting him out seemed the right choice. It went against the hostage negotiation training you had in the past but if you were the hostage nothing you said would release you from this situation.

Price sighed deeply, tapped the note twice, and looked up at you.

“Tell me what happened.”

So you do, everything you remember up to and including your line in the sand, or rather blood in the dirt, with the guys.

“Sir, I was informed in medical today that I am the canary in the coal shaft. Would you agree that is my role on this team?”

He filled his lungs slowly, ribs expanding and retracting.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

This question seemed to stump him. He leaned back in his chair, fully extending the stretch of the chair. Crossing his arms across his chest he looks at you.

Silence lingers.

“Brass only sees value in the 141 as a joint team. If we can’t prove that we can work with outsiders again then we will be disbanded. The men now know the reality of the situation and I imagine that by the time their laps are done, they will have a plan to make it look like they have accepted you.”

“Are you telling me not to trust them?” Apprehension walked your spine, a spider on a thread of silk.

“I am telling you to be watchful, be careful. You were chosen for your stellar record and for your various training dealing with difficult personalities. They will grow to trust you; Brass wants to make sure you can live long enough to see that flower blossom.”

“And if I refuse to sing for a paycheck?” You lean forward, elbow settling on your knees.

“Then we handle whatever Brass decides. If you don’t want this challenge no one will think less of you for it.” Captain searches your face, no expression passing through his.

Blowing a breath out of your nose you stand.

“If it becomes too much I will inform you. Now about my punishment?”

Sitting upright Price waves a hand as if dismissing cigar smoke.

“I will write up something that will pass muster but I am not adding insult to injury. You did the right thing. The guys are running laps as punishment for not stepping in to save a teammate, even if she didn’t need it.”

He must have caught your mouth opening in defense.

“You are dismissed, Lynx.”

Huffing a breath you leave Price’s office much the same way the guys did, mad.

Shout out to @bernardsbendystraws for the super cute divider!

Masterlist

[kitasgloves]

A Secret for the Stars

— ♬ Fyodor was a regular at the tavern you work at. But behind every polite smile and gesture, was a different man he'd rather not show you...yet.

— ♬ Fyodor Dostoevsky x Reader, SFW, 1920s AU, fem-bodied reader, Fyodor is kinda lowkey obsessive and unhinged on this one (I mean, when is he not?), 2.4k words, no beta

— ♬ hello, yes, I have returned to serve my first bsd fanfic and it's this russian rat, hope you guys enjoy though

The evening was particularly colder than yesterday. People occasionally strolled by in the streets, pulling their coats tighter and rubbing their palms to produce warmth. Pitiful beggars were reaching their dirty hands out to every passerby, their pathetic countenance left unseen by others, making it impossible to extract a little bit of sympathy. In rare instances, someone would look at a beggar's face, but it's either with unconcealed disgust or sheer sympathy. A man represents the latter, his gloved hand digs into the pocket of his coat and gives the beggar five coins worth of money. The beggar's face lights up significantly, eyes watering with heartfelt compassion at the male stranger as he thanks them silently with a weak nod. He nods back before resuming his walk.

He takes each step with confidence and certainty. Anyone who lands their gaze on him can tell he's a man of rationality. A man who knew how to form foolproof plans and had success etched on the palm of his hand. His ebony peaked cap rests comfortably on top of his dark head, his complexion rivaling the snow, and his slim but tall build utters grace. He had on a black coat with a dark waistcoat underneath, his white dress shirt and red tie peaked out. His charcoal trousers and boots were cleaned and polished. One would take him for a nobleman or someone with great importance.

Deep violet eyes scan the old tavern ahead, it was a place he frequented in after his daily 'affairs'. From the sufficient light through the windows, he deduces that the tavern was packed with drunkards this evening. Nonetheless, he enters. The scent of alcohol and tobacco filled the atmosphere, he merely gags. He strides to his favorite spot, near the back where nobody bothers to occupy. He removes his hat and takes a seat. His observant eyes watch the sea of drunkards hollering and insulting each other during a game of cards, a few were slumped over on their tables smoking, and some had managed to pass out on the disgusting wooded, beyond intoxicated.

Amid the chaos, he hears soft footsteps approach. He holds back a smile for he recognizes the owner of the footsteps. He carefully turns his head and his eyes meet the warmest [Eye color] orbs he has ever encountered.

"Good evening, Fyodor! May I fetch your usual?"

"Please, of course, my dear"

Fyodor replies with familiarity. You and Fyodor only knew each other by name and face, you two didn't have any conversations but only polite greetings. You worked as a waitress in this tavern. Amongst the rough faces available in the place, yours by far are the most comforting. Fyodor found you fascinating. He couldn't exactly point his finger at it but it had something to do with your indifference in your environment. You've served him the same drink for months to the point a routine was formed and became familiar.

An educated man such as he knows how to pay your service with the right amount of money and a polite smile, unlike most of the hounds that occupied the tavern. Fyodor could barely hide his disgust at seeing drunkards stretch out their arms in an attempt to snatch you into their laps, their greedy and dirty hands testified to their perverted minds. However, you remained unshaken. You avoided their attempts at snatching as you ignored their whistles for a 'pretty young lady' to come over.

If Fyodor were to be a lesser man, he would've agreed with those perverted drunkards. You had a gentle face and complexion. Your eyes glimmered like the stars in the midnight sky while your smile resembled the sunrise. Your body suggested a healthy shape. And your movements weren't one of a graceful swan, but rather, a woman who knew what she was worth. Fyodor had an assumption of your hidden intelligence, you must be one of the fortunate ones in this poverty-stricken city to have learned how to read and write. Though, he would like to understand why you have chosen this occupation. For your good looks, you could've become an actress at the local theatre, it could've landed you great opportunities to travel overseas if you performed well. Or you could've, like any beautiful maiden, been married off to a wealthy man and lived your life with effortless luxury.

But he thinks he preferred you this way, serving him his vodka. When you returned with his drink, you didn't wander off, instead, you stood there as if waiting for him to speak up. Fyodor's lips curl up into a smirk at this.

"Thank you, [Name]. How is your day?"

"It's as equally as exhausting as the previous days, but it is nothing I couldn't manage"

"Hm, I admire your resilience. After all, how is one to strive in an environment like this?"

Fyodor gestures to the wild atmosphere at the tavern, you only laughed and waved your hand off.

"It's only necessary for me to try and strive here. I cannot afford to lose this job"

"And why's that? Are there no other opportunities?"

"I'm afraid no, my friend. You see, I have an unfinished education and a massive family debt I am responsible for helping to pay off"

"I see, how unfortunate"

This was the first proper conversation Fyodor has had with you and he immediately absorbs all of the information you have unconsciously given him. He greedily wastes your time in thirst to know more.

"You look famished, my dear. Would you like to take a seat for a moment?"

"Oh, only for a brief while"

You accepted his offer and sat across from him. Fyodor keeps the conversation alive by inquiring about more about yourself through innocent questions. He's both surprised and amused that you're answering his questions truthfully. He realizes you weren't bashful or meek. He recalls encountering women and seeing them with tinted cheeks and silently batting their eyelashes at him, hoping he'd be the first to speak or to fall for them. How absurd! Yet you have never batted your eyelashes at him, from what he gathers from your mannerisms, you only view him as the only peaceful regular at this wretched tavern. His eyes narrowed when one of those stupid drunkards called you to serve him another bottle of alcohol. 

"If you'll excuse me..."

You say to him as you flutter away from his presence. You haven't returned to his table for a while and it's making him impatient. Fyodor was determined to stay until you came back, watching and enduring you get constantly harassed by those foolish men. It was nearly midnight when the tavern usually closes, you ushered every drunk customer out before you began to clean up. Fyodor was the last to remain, on purpose. While you haven't graced him with your attention since you left the conversation, he has finished scheming.

"Have you gone tipsy, my friend?"

You asked him when you finally approached his table. Fyodor shakes his head and smiles.

"Oh no, I am not drunk, my dear"

"Well, that's a relief! I'm afraid you have to leave for the tavern is about to close"

"Is that so? Oh, I have not realized how late it was! But how will you walk home at this late hour?"

You chuckled as he perfected the feigned concerned expression on his face, it had seemed to effectively fool you.

"I am comfortable with finding my way home alone, Fyodor"

"Nonsense, a lady without company at this darkest hour isn't safe. May I accompany you at least until the end of the street?"

"How kind of you, my friend! Yes, but let me finish cleaning up first"

You turned to tidy the tavern, completely missing the cunning smirk on Fyodor's face. He selfishly watches you move around the tavern, cleaning tables while humming a tune and bending over to pick up the fallen chairs. His violet eyes gleamed with greed as he etched each movement into his memory.

"Are you finished, my dear?"

"Yes, let us head out"

Both of you exited the tavern, a cold breeze greeting you. He watched you pull your worn-out coat close to your shivering figure as he walked beside you. The street was dimly lit, it was sufficient to hide the satisfied look on his face. Suddenly, you looked up at him with curiosity.

"May I ask what job do you have, Fyodor?"

"I am involved with the government"

There was a look of surprise on your features. Of course, Fyodor's reply was neither the full truth nor half a lie. He needed you to think highly of him.

"No wonder you dress with importance! I did not know one of our regulars was a famous man"

"I am well-known in some parts of the city, but I'm far from famous, my dear"

"Well, then you must receive a lot of invitations and love letters every day!"

You beamed at him, Fyodor admits that he adores your natural curiosity of him. He doubts he'd be willing to show you who he truly was. Because he was more than that polite customer you serve vodka to almost every evening. His acquaintances and enemies regarded him the same way; he was a cynical man with a skill for scheming. He's selfish when it comes to his personal goals. His name has caused the destruction of many that have dared to stumble in his way. But he chuckles and replies to you.

"How insightful you are. I indeed receive a lot of invitations and love letters, but I only respond to letters with important affairs"

"I hope you're not the kind that burns love letters to keep his bath warm"

You remarked as you gazed forward. Fyodor merely freezes at what you said. He knows he has no room for romance in his life. Rationality doesn't require emotions. He could choose to laugh and tell you that he does burn love letters but he doesn't use them to keep his bath warm. Though the love letters were sufficient enough to keep his bath warm, he sees no form of use for them. They are nothing but unreciprocated affections sprawled on paper.

"No, my dear. That would be heartless"

"That's a relief. I do not think you're a cruel man, Fyodor"

Oh, how quick you were to accept that false answer. Fyodor preferred you to perceive him as a harmless man and leave this pristine image of him unstained. You were talkative, and it was the first mistake you'd ever made, if anyone who knew him saw this, they would warn you. One shouldn't be at ease to open up to a man like Fyodor, he's the kind of man to use anything you tell him against you. However, you weren't an enemy and he wasn't planning on making you one. He liked what he had with you now, for the time being.

Halfway down the street, Fyodor thinks how he would like to suck the life out of you. The way you babbled on and on about the most trivial parts of your life gave an impression that you were begging him to ruin you. The pure nativity and innocence you displayed in your eyes made his throat dry. Behind the smile he's giving you was a dark thought, he was prepared to use you in any way he could. It was surprising how effortless it was to manipulate you.

As you both reached the end of the street, you peered up at him with a smile. The street was divided into two; the path you stood behind was filled with bright streetlights while the one on his side had faded lighting.

"Will I see you again tomorrow at the tavern?"

"Of course, you will, my dear"

"Thank you for walking with me"

There was a different form of a smile on your face, it looked tender, and it almost reminded him of someone's mother. Fyodor had always watched you for a long time, he'd seen every expression you had to offer but this smile was new. And something that wasn't part of his scheme, occurred: you have reached to the tips of your toes to place a chaste kiss on his left cheek. For a moment, his contemptuous thoughts of you vanish. A terrifying warmth blooms in his chest. Fyodor stares at you unblinking.

"Goodbye, Fyodor"

He couldn't open his mouth to reply as you walked down that street on your way home. What in God's name was that? With a gloved hand, he reaches for his left cheek and recoils back like he's been burnt. Why did you do that? Fyodor furrowed his eyebrows and frowned. How disgusting! Yet his skin kept tingling. His mind replayed every smile, every laugh, and every moment he'd shared with you. He shakes his head. Pathetic! He thinks. However, he imagined you sharing those moments with somebody else morphing his hands into fists.

Fyodor grumbles as he makes his way down the dimly lit street. His eyes stare up at the sky towards the stars. Those glimmering stars only reminded him of your eyes and he scoffs. The stars perhaps have an idea of the feeling forming in his bosom. The stars have witnessed every cry of a man filled with despair and every confession of a man filled with love. But in this instance, Fyodor would tell the stars a secret instead.

A secret of his desire to obtain you. They would know how he wanted to pull you by the hand and run his hands through your hair. They would know how he would inhale your scent and steal your innocence. The stars would know how Fyodor has fallen captive under the mysterious spell that has got him determined to have you. He would rather pluck his eyes out than fall on his knees in front of you. No, he would never beg. Fyodor knows better than to beg, to beg means to admit defeat. But if God decides to take you away from him, well...he must be prepared to be a heretic.

Only the stars know now of his cunning plans for he has muttered it up to the midnight sky. Fyodor knows that stars burn up and die in the end so his secret would be safe for as long as he's alive. He laughed to himself as he continued to walk down the street.

©kitasgloves (do not steal or copy)

[moonselune]

OMG I LOVE HOW YOURE ADDING JAHEIRA NOW I love that grandmother so much lol ANYWAY could I ask for the ladies (obvs including jaheira) seeing that gn!Tav is anxious in a situation and they have a small physical way of saying "don't worry, I'm here, you're safe" which helps calm them down? I imagine some of the ladies would be more subtle than others (sorry karlach lol)

Ahaha I think all of them would be quite subtle apart from Karlach lmaooo bless her she tries

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

The bustling marketplace was teeming with activity, it was a cacophony of voices, clinking coins, and the smell of various spices and foods overwhelming your senses. Your anxiety began to spike, heart racing and palms growing sweaty. You had always been sensitive to large crowds, and today was no exception.

In the middle of a conversation with a merchant, you felt your anxiety start to spiral out of control. The merchant's voice seemed to grow louder and more intense, his words blurring together in a confusing jumble. Just when you thought you might lose your composure, you felt a familiar, comforting presence beside you.

Karlach, ever attentive, stepped up and wrapped her strong arms around you from behind, pulling you into a reassuring embrace. Her warmth was like a protective shield, her presence grounding you immediately. She didn't care about subtlety or decorum; her priority was you.

"Ignore her, she's just protective," you managed to say to the merchant, trying to keep your voice steady as you felt Karlach's solid, reassuring grip. "Please, continue."

The merchant gave a bemused smile but continued his pitch, seemingly unfazed by the sudden display of affection. As he spoke, you focused on Karlach's embrace, her breath warm against your ear as she whispered, "I've got you, love. You're safe with me."

Her words and touch worked wonders. The noise of the market seemed to fade into the background, and your breathing began to slow, your heart rate settling and the merchant's words became clearer. Karlach's hold didn't cease and she continued to be wrapped around you. It was a constant reminder that you weren't alone, that she was there to support you through anything.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

The room was filled with whispers and scrutinizing gazes, each one adding to the weight of your anxiety. You stood there, feeling exposed and vulnerable, your confidence wavering. The situation was tense, and you couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to go terribly terribly wrong.

Minthara, always perceptive to your mood, sensed your unease. She was a force of nature, her presence commanding and protective. Without a word, she moved closer to you, her movements smooth and deliberate.

As she approached, you felt a gentle yet firm hand on the small of your back. Minthara's touch was possessive but reassuring, a silent declaration that she was there for you. Her hand, warm and steady, anchored you, providing a sense of stability amidst the chaos. The simple act allowed you to breathe easier, the tightness in your chest loosening.

You glanced at her, and she met your gaze with a knowing look. Her eyes, filled with determination and a fierce protectiveness, conveyed a clear message: she had you, and nothing would harm you while she was around. The anxiety that had gripped you began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of calm and security.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

The room was tense, filled with the palpable anticipation of the upcoming battle. As you stood there, anxiety gnawing at your insides, you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. The enemy's forces were formidable, and doubt began to creep into your mind.

Lae'zel, ever vigilant, noticed the subtle shift in your demeanor. Her sharp eyes caught the slight tremor in your hand, the way your breath hitched ever so slightly. She knew you well enough to recognize the signs of your anxiety.

Without a word, Lae'zel moved closer to you. Her presence was a steady, reassuring force. As she took her place beside you, she placed her foot next to yours, the sides of your boots touching. It was a small, seemingly insignificant gesture, but it carried immense weight.

The touch of her foot against yours was grounding. It reminded you that you were not alone, that Lae'zel was there, ready to fight by your side, she had your back. The contact was a silent promise of support and protection, a warrior's assurance that she would stand with you no matter what.

Lae'zel's fierce gaze met yours, and she gave a slight nod, conveying her readiness to act. Her confidence was infectious, and you felt a wave of calm wash over you. The anxiety that had threatened to paralyze you began to ebb away, replaced by a renewed sense of determination.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

The camp was a buzz of activity, the tension in the air palpable as everyone prepared to infiltrate the murder tribunal. Your mind raced with the possibilities of what could go wrong, each scenario more harrowing than the last. You could feel the weight of the world on your shoulders, your breaths coming quicker and shallower as anxiety threatened to overwhelm you.

As you stood on the edge of the camp, staring into the distance but seeing nothing, you felt a gentle touch on your hand. You looked down to see Shadowheart's pinky finger wrapping around yours. The simple, intimate gesture was so delicate, so filled with quiet reassurance, that it caught you off guard. Shadowheart leaned into you slightly, her presence a calming balm against your frayed nerves.

"Hey," she murmured softly, her voice a soothing melody amidst the chaos. "Don't worry, I'm here. You're safe."

You couldn't help but smile at her words, the warmth of her touch and the sincerity in her eyes cutting through the fog of your anxiety. The world seemed to slow down, the noise and confusion fading into the background as you focused on the connection between you.

You took a deep breath, feeling the tightness in your chest begin to ease. "Thank you," you whispered, your smile growing as you looked into her eyes. The love and reassurance you found there were all you needed to face the challenges ahead.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Jaheira:

The forest was eerily silent, the only sound being the occasional rustle of leaves. You stood amidst the ancient trees, your heart pounding in your chest, you were launching an ambush, but your nerves threatened it. The tension of the moment made it hard to breathe, and you felt a wave of anxiety threaten to consume you.

Jaheira, ever perceptive, noticed your discomfort. She had always been attuned to the emotions of those around her, especially when it came to you. Without drawing attention to your unease, she moved to stand behind you.

Gently, she placed a hand on the upper part of your back. Her touch was warm and reassuring, the calluses of her hand a testament to the countless battles she had fought. Her thumb began to caress your back in slow, soothing circles.

The simple act of her touch was profoundly calming. It anchored you, it conveyed a sense of safety, a reassurance that she was there to support you.

Jaheira's touch was a balm to your frazzled nerves. The gentle pressure of her hand and the rhythmic motion of her thumb helped steady your breathing. You closed your eyes for a moment, focusing on the comforting sensation and allowing it to calm your racing thoughts.

Jaheira's hand lingered for a moment longer, then she gave your back a reassuring pat before stepping back. The warmth of her touch remained, a constant reminder that you were not alone.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

A short wholesome piece for y'all, enjoy ! - Seluney xox

[rainswept]

I'M HERE. lyney.

warnings // 1.3k words. major backstory spoilers. in depth/poetically described gore, dead/rotting animal mention, overall content may be disturbing to some readers - proceed with caution. injury, main character death, angst. childhood friends trope !! ambiguous relationship (could be viewed as platonic or romantic, but pining/unsaid feelings are implied).

"now i'm here," lyney chirped, jumping out from behind a wooden crate along the sides of the wet street, before bounding back again and leaving only his voice as an indication he was there at all, "now i'm not!"

lynette looked on, unimpressed, while you clapped. of course, it was only a silly game; but you were more than willing to indulge him.

the air smelled of rain and sodden wood, and you could feel the cool moisture upon your skin. puddles and wooden planks knocked off of crates littered the streets, the post-rain painting the sky a gloomy gray. tall buildings formed of metal sheets outstretched, cradling the city paths the three of you walked. desolate as it was, it felt like home.

the steps of six boots into fresh puddles echoed alongside an otherwise quiet world. the rain had just settled, so off you went, in search of the next crowd of people for lyney and lynette to perform for. there was never any particular place the three of you stuck to; there couldn't be. so, with time, you began to see them as your home instead.

the worry of what was next to settle in your truthless maw dispersed when you were with them. in their company, neither worry nor hunger gnawed at your stomach. the taste of food was simply not as comforting when eating alone. no .. you could be in a sea of people. so, not just being alone; without them.

☽  . * ��

"i'm here!" lyney called, turning the corner into the small alley in which you three often resided.

you and lynette glanced up, immediately filled with vigor at the sound of his voice. while lynette stayed seated, huddled in a cardboard box beside you, you wriggled your way out of her grasp and jumped up to meet lyney half-way. as he dipped his head and took off his hat with a quick bow, spare coins came tumbling into your outstretched hands. you thanked him, turning to lynette, and he waited until you two counted what you needed before he took his own spoils.

it wasn't long until you were on the move again. the three of you huddled close as you slipped through the crowd of the night market, hands held tight in a chain as to not lose each other. you stepped up to a merchant together, dirty coins scrounged together just enough to be worth something in your outstretched palms.

you ate comfortably that night, huddled next to lyney and lynette in a small alley you had decided to make home temporarily. lynette was on the left, her tail wrapped around you and lyney; he was on the right, one arm tucked between you as he ate his meal with the other. you were right in the middle, head resting on lyney's shoulder. you could hear his heartbeat, dull and faint from how far away, but there nonetheless.

you drifted off to sleep comfortably, warm between their bodies as you sheltered each other from the cold night air.

☽  . * ☾

"i'm here," you whispered, holding lyney tight. your arms wrapped around his shaking frame as he cried, burying his face in the crook of your neck as to not allow you to bear witness to his tears. "it's okay. let it out."

"i'm here," lyney said softly, tracing circles over your knuckles with his thumb as you stared, mortified, the first time you saw a rotting animal — mauled so badly the species was unrecognizable — slumped up against the wall of a building. flies buzzed in your ears, and lyney murmured soft reassurances to muffle the sounds even as the sight filled his own body with dread. "it's okay. walk with me, now. keep your eyes closed. i'll guide you."

"i'm here," you said, words only meant for lyney's ears, stepping in front of him protectively as you steeled yourself for a brawl over food scarcity. you were always the better fighter. "i won't let them hurt you."

"i'm here," lyney called, entering the small space you were currently residing in, throwing you the bigger piece of bread between the two pieces he had retrieved. "this one's for you."

"i'm here," you said, the first time he performed alone, because lynette was sick. "you did great."

"i'm here," lyney said, barely above a whisper as to not wake you, hand resting on the back of your head as you curl into him for warmth in your sleep. "i hope you're comfortable."

"i'm here," you yelled, gasping for breath, as you rushed to lyney's aid — all because he tripped and scraped a knee. "are you okay?"

"i'm here." "i'm here." "i'm here." "i'm here."

you were always there, and he was too.

you hadn't eaten, yet you still felt like you'd throw up pure acid; as if the impact of your heart plummeting into your stomach would actually cause some to splash up.

the sight was as awful as that day. you wanted to see blood flow beneath his skin, in his veins, and watch it turn his face hot when you looked at him. you didn't want to see it outside of him. it was spilling out his body much too quickly, unlike the words you wished you could've said sooner.

deep crimson laid out for the world to see, blood pouring out like heartfelt words; up-tilted smiles, and choked out apologies. the dirty street beneath lyney's limp body was beginning to turn the same color as his open wounds, blood following the imperfect curves of the rubble-littered concrete. the blood glinted in the light like a precious ruby, marred skin splayed open to reveal flesh pure and untainted.

the stream, yet to coagulate, picked up pieces of dirt and tiny dislodged rocks as it followed its path. it reminded you of how lyney found you. you were the debris, and he the blood, outstretched grasp picking you up and carrying you to all the places you wished to go — with him all the while. without him, you would be immoble .. useless.

.. but the blood did not have a care in the world; it did not have any thought as it meandered its way across the ground. it only sought the path already cut for it, where ever that may lead.

.. it .. did not have a mind of its own. blood .. it is born to sustain one person, to keep them alive. it only served one purpose; carry life to and from their heart. now, without a body to keep alive .. it had no use in the world.

.. that was quite the fitting metaphor for you, now.

you cradle him gently, letting him lean on you as he breathes. it's weak, it's fragile, and it's strained. your arms wrap around his body and his hands grasp feebly at your clothes, trying to hold you close the best he can.

stay with me, you want to say. stay with me.

but you know better than to have hope now. you've seen enough death that you can predict when it's coming.

.. is he even still conscious?

yet, regardless of your rationale, he seems to read your mind.

"i'm here," lyney murmurs, voice soft and eyes fluttering between open and shut. the last of the day's sun glints in his glassy irises, pupils shrinking and dilating as he tries his best to focus on you despite his blurred vision. he smiles softly, looking up at you with only his eyes. it would hurt too much to move anything else.

.. but, soon the pain ceases. in his final moments, he manages to glance at you once more, without the binds of wound left to mar his final memory.

you brush the stray hairs away from his face. "i know. i know."

slowly, the sun goes down. his eyes have long since stopped moving, and his final breath had drifted past your face and into the winds hours ago. yet, you're still here, his now-cold blood painting the entire front of you a glassy red, holding onto him as if trying to keep his lifeless body warm still.

now he's here. now he's not.

[hellofanidea]

Number 8! BoB ship of your choice!

No. 8 - Loose change and headlights, Babe/Liebgott

Babe didn't know how long he'd been walking. Long enough for the last stretches of sunlight to dip and fade, the warm orange of the summer evening giving way to a vast swathe of black overhead. Long enough for the dimes in his clenched fist to go body-warm and sweaty in the pocket of his jacket.

There was no real direction to it, just a striding pace away. Away from the house, the street, the neighborhood, he grew up in. Away from all of the places he couldn't help but fear he had grown out of.

There was a phone booth on the next corner his feet took him, and Babe finally stopped. It took him a moment to come back to himself, to force his body to remember him and make it open the door and step in.

That was unfair.

That made him sound like he had gotten too big for them. In reality, he had shrunk, under the weight of an MG and a parachute harness, and three years of being steadily worn down by the worst of what humanity had to offer. Even his rosary felt heavy, bending his neck and hunching his back. He had taken his dog tags off the second he stepped foot back in his mother's kitchen, but he still thought he felt them bouncing against his chest sometimes too, the thin metal dragging him down.

Then the coins, sticky from his palm. They slid in one after the other, an almost unreasonable amount. He could have made it a collect, but that meant trusting the other end would accept it, and Babe didn't have the heart for that risk tonight. Besides, dropping the cost of a long distance call out of the blue didn't feel like the best opener.

Time stretched and condensed in the the span it took to give the operator the number and wait for the connection. A few cars passed, the beams of their headlights momentarily blinding Babe every time they turned by. He followed their paths, as if he could travel with them just by staring hard enough.

"What?"

As waspish as the answer was, as shitty the quality of the call, the voice bled all of the tension out of Babe's body instantly. He sagged forward around the receiver with what he hoped wasn't an audible sigh of relief.

"Joe?"

The line crackled sharply.

"Babe?" Liebgott hissed, incredulous and far softer than he had sounded a moment ago. "That you? Are you alright?"

Babe blew out another breath and tried to steady himself.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine, I just-" His voice caught, and he swallowed hard around the lump forming there. "I just missed you."

It shouldn't have been as hard to admit as it was. They had wound themselves together for a year, been through some of the worst things two people could experience at each other's sides. In Austria, drunk on gin and the promise of peace, Babe had grabbed Joe by his skinny hips and told him exactly what he meant to him.

Then they had come home with a continent between them and nothing but the occasional letter. A twenty minute phone call once in a blue moon. They had come home to ghosts and shadows and the lingering fear that they no longer belonged where they once called home.

Maybe that last one was just Babe projecting, but he would have bet money that Joe felt the same way all the way out in California.

More crackling static from Joe's end of the line.

"It's the middle of the night in Philly, Babe. Where are you?" He asked.

Babe closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the booth. This wasn't helping. None of this was helping. Everywhere he turned he was met with a dead end. Dead end job, dead end conversations, dead end of Bill's fucking leg that both of them refused to acknowledge long enough for them to just fucking talk-

"Still there, don't worry, I didn't do nothin' stupid," he sighed.

I wish I did, he thought, I wish I'd jumped a train like a bum and hitchhiked and actually hiked and was standing on your doorstep, good sense be damned.

The hand not holding the phone had started to cramp and lock up at his side, and he tucked it against his chest. When his hands had refused to cooperate in Bastogne, Joe had given him his gloves, rubbed his fingers between his palms to try and make sure the circulation was going until they unstuck. Babe ached for that now, snow and all, just to have Joe's hand in his, Joe soothing his pain and letting Babe shoulder some of his in return.

"I'm not callin' you stupid, I'm checking you aren't stranded in fuckin' corn country somewhere," Joe grumbled. Babe didn't say anything, just turned his cheek into the receiver like it was Joe's neck, like he could fold against him in silence for a while like they had on the ship home when it was too crowded for anyone to care. There was a long sigh, Joe pitching his voice lower. "Missed you too, kid."

It struck Babe through and through, hit him right where he was already cracking open, and he made a muffled noise of pain.

"Stay where you are," came Joe's hoarse voice, just as the pips started to signal the end of the call. "It'll take me a couple of days, but I'll come. I'll come getcha. I'm coming to getcha."

"Don't, Babe, don't," Joe begged, through what sounded like gritted teeth.

"'M sorry," Babe ground out. "'M sorry, Joe, I just can't take it. I thought I could, I thought everythin' would-"

His voice cracked. He bit the inside of his cheek to try and calm down, breathing hard through his nose and listening to Joe do the same.

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

Hello! Can I ask a jealous Hiccup bc f!reader spends time with the rest of the team (especially Snotlout)?

Plus, if you like, he does his best to get her attention and you end up confessed to her (a little bit of angst would be nice) <3

Thanks! I love very much how you write, I hope you have a nice day~

The Jealous One

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Fem!Reader

Words: 3,170

An old friend starts to act odd. Snotlout is slightly less so.

Tags: fem!reader, jealousy, beginning of Snotlout friendship, ambiguous Post-first movie pre-httyd 2 timeline, part one

Next>

Your footsteps rung hollowly, the sound of thick leather rubbing against stone nearly drowned out by the distant sound of bustle and the ominous creaking of the Great Hall’s large doors.

Similarly, you remembered the way the wood sounded against your hard soles, the sound of the gently rushing water and mindless, careless chatter- how your heart felt as you very certainly ignored the small form of Hiccup and his Night Fury fading off into the skyline.

There was no one capable of avoiding your sour eyes as you meandered, feeling sort of potently, upsettingly upset in a way that you thought shouldn’t have been natural. It was so intense that you had no grasp on any part of the world, empty hands grasping at loose threads, slipping past all but the one that decided that, in this moment, you should struggle heavily against the full weight of years and more than a handful of nasty, lonely tears, all of which eager to burst past the safety of your eyelids.

You surely didn’t miss his griping, or his judgment, or any of his whining. You didn’t miss the feasts, the dark nights, the hiding away, the moping and you certainly didn’t- You didn’t miss- You grit your jaw holding steadfast in the same way a jailer did before a break, a warrior before he swung his sword, wishing dearly that you’d anyone else- any other friend. 

You wished you had some larger rocks to kick, too.

“Forgot my fucking coin pur-“ Your shoulders jerked as you startled, chests meeting with a force that was dull but no less breath-taking, not not nearly as startling as the feeling of stone cracking against the hard bone beneath your skin, the slamming of teeth against each other, deeper than you could have every though they could go, grit as they were, and the way the earth seemed to dissipate around you, making way for air and vertigo as you nearly slipped backwards down the stairs of the Great Hall.

 “Gods,” You hissed, thick bits of gravel digging into the sensitive skin of your palms, stinging as you lifted them. You pushed yourself upwards, running your hands down the backside of your skirts, urging away dust and grime.

You squinted. So we meet again.

“Watch it,” Snotlout ground out, looking quite annoyed with his arms crossed, standing as if he was a taller man than he was a step or so above you.

You glared at him… then you smirked. The first thing you noticed- Hookfang was missing. Absent.

It was surprising but not shocking. The Riders and their dragons had separate lives, of course, the Jorgenson Rider and his steed more so than the rest. Even as, in the minds of most, they remained so closely associated. 

Hookfang was quite the socialite, or at least a watcher. The Nightmare was also just as revolted with his Rider as he was foul when it came to others speaking ill in his presence, which usually made back-talk quite difficult. 

“What are you doing here?” You shot at him. It was a stupid question, a simple one. It didn’t matter what was siad, though, not really- it was more about the fight laying underneath, or the lack of, or the mix of both.

You’d been seeing him much too often nowadays, though truthfully, now more than ever, his face hadn’t been one you hated. It was as pleasant to look at as he was a wordsmith, which was to say that it wasn’t pleasant-looking at all. Still, it was a balm to your aching guts. And so, in place of genuine conversation, if his jeering was all you had to work with, you found you didn’t much mind it.

You’d never show it, though.

You took a determined step forwards, glaring straight into his eyes as other Vikings  came and went, brown-furred and tan-tunic-ed shoulders knocking into yours and passing through the open doors of the Great Hall like schools of fish.

Snotlout huffed, furrowing one large brow, open-mouthed frown exposing one large, missing tooth, “What am I doing here? What are you doing here?”

You adjusted your shoulders, stepping up with your other foot and crossing your arms, nearly meeting him chest-to-chest.

“None of your business,” You grumbled, feeling petty. “ Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“I’m here for the grub,” Snotlout scoffed down at you, “That’s where I have to be. Not my fault you’re too busy skulking to watch where you’re going.” 

“I don’t skulk?” You asked incredulously. 

“Not in a million years, and unless you’re offering to pay, then I got no time for you, small fry.” He grunted.

You hid your wince. That was a nickname born only after Snotlout had trained his dragon and the Riders had fought larger battles. You resented it, sometimes, just as much as you embraced it. It was a token of something else, a name perhaps mostly meant to show you how little you meant in the grand scheme of things.

“Like you’re much of a catch, either,” You shot back gleefully, roughly huffing away your discontent. It was easy to smother as you rolled your eyes and grinned for the first time in what felt like a long while, forcing the ends of your mouth tightly upwards.

Snotlout scoffed at you condescendingly, looking up at you with his arms crossed and stance stout, cocky as ever.

“I don’t have a dragon,” You grumbled under your breath, feeling scales catch against the rough padding of your fingertips, struggling to keep a hold as tough muscle writhed like silk between your fingertips.

You tossed down the Terror perhaps a bit too roughly, wincing as it caught on to your sleeves with dull claws, spine twisting as it made a valiant effort to land on its feet. It was by some miracle that it landed anywhere else, meeting flesh instead of dirt or hand, quickly grabbing hold of Snotlout’s face.

You hid your grin behind a pitiful wince, watching an already grumpy, irksome viking become frantic below. The Terror screeched as Snotlout hurried to try and push it off, shouting and irritated, both of them flailing around, fingers scrabbling at claws which dug into his jaws and cheek in turn.

His pain brought you joy. 

It was a malicious joy, one born partly from the feeling of victory, something small and petty left over from an old, fading rivalry, the other majority born from the fact that you'd been dragged along on a chore that had never been yours to begin with and it was his fault.

Your thighs relaxed slightly as you shifted, straddling a thick bark body and wooden spine. You sat up high in the trees, leaning against an old, heavy trunk, feeling the points of any branches and the folds of leaves pressing against you through your clothes, feeling quite loathed to make things easy for him.

It was by the hand of a tall, burlish woman that you’d been rushed into your quest, lips nagging with such an intensity you’d been startled into silence, pushing as if the crying mouth of her child had been a timer by which she had been bound and had then bound the two of you.

She had been quite standoffish and brash, preoccupied and frazzled, yet sharp- one of the more warrior types, covered in armor with large spiked helmets. The kind who, when they eventually had children with the least suited fathers, looked awfully out of place, busy and regretful. 

You were sure, in a few years, her kids would be quite the hellions. You almost felt a little bad for them, between your efforts to wipe their spittle from your face and back far enough  away with enough time to spare to keep your hearing intact.

So, you almost hadn’t held it against her. 

Of course, you were about the right age to be a Rider, the only demographic who was, in name, saddled with a duty to manage the dragons, to change the minds of many in favor of the good of all. However, you weren’t one, though you doubted she cared much at all what creed you belonged to as long as someone got her job done and it didn’t have to be her. 

You found conflict in the sentiment the same way you found conflict in the fact that you’d been robbed of any of the benefits of any title that came from living on Berk- you failed to understand why their hardships fell to you as well.

In regards to Snotlout, this was the one instance in which he’d offered no rebuke.

So, instead of leaving, which you supposed would have been a very viable course of action, and not at all because you had nothing better to do, you settled for trouble.

You smiled as the Terror left a particularly hard bite on Snotlout’s nose.

“You know what you need?” Snotlout complained, roughly tugging a branch from his shoe, hopping on one foot as he kicked aside a particularly feisty yellow-and-purple Terror.

“What?” You hissed, glaring at him stubbornly. Privately, for all the trouble it had wrought, you thought it served the little pest right. 

“You need a dragon.”

You snorted, looking down at your hands. You wondered when you’d stop being dragged along on chores with Snotlout. It was becoming a pattern. “A dragon?”

You glanced upwards. You had an idea of the load- of the tasks, the jobs, the chores, but good Gods. It was nearly getting to be too much.

“It would make things a lot more convenient. For me.”

“If you can get me one,” You rolled your eyes and your neck, shoulders cracking as you picked a long stick-with-leaves out of your hair. “I would be happy to have it. But I’ve not had very good luck yet.”

“Then-” Snotlout seemed to pause, but only momentarily before yelling again as the Terror launched itself at him again. 

You shook your shoulders loose then winced, stepping  forwards again, a pain both dull and blooming bursting through the sole of your foot. 

You lifted it up, hopping and pulling up your sole to see a hefty thorn stuck right in the middle, squinting, using dull nails to pick fruitlessly at it, efforts half hindered by the setting sun and dimming light. 

“Meet me back here tomorrow. If I’m going to be stuck with you, then-” Snotlout lifted a finger into the air, quite clearly still off-put by the terror’s attack, something odd and purplish bleeding where it had split skin.

He inhaled deeply before stumbling off the path.

You waited for a moment, watching, before shrugging gaily and deciding that it was probably fine. The paths here weren’t that steep, you knew.

“Sure,” You said simply, continuing on your way walking down the path. You decided that whichever foul soul thought Terrors would be a great starting dragon for the children deserved to be hung. 

You promised yourself you would give Hiccup a piece of your mind later.

“-Right, yeah, uh, so, I- well,” Hiccup said, shifting from one leg to the next, before stilling completely.

It looked like you’d caught him fresh from flight-and-crash as the browns of his leather were more mud than hide. His hair was a mess, more of an ugly bed-head than wispy and windswept, though you found it endearing all the same. 

“Hey,” You scuffed your feet awkwardly into the dirt. You had dressed lighter for the occasion, something less green and blue- you glanced down before staring straight ahead, meeting Hiccup’s eyes head-on.

There was an odd, reddened, blotchy quality to his face in a way he hadn’t had since he’d just started riding Toothless, before soft, land-bound skin had gotten used to the winds whipping past his cheeks.

You were careful not to stare too long lest you somehow accidentally revealed your affections, thin as a spider’s web though just as elegantly woven, spreading wide and reaching many parts of you you’d rather keep hidden. In many instances, you found it entwined with a braid of bitter something, knotting and pulling, weighted. In the moment, you were most focused on keeping your basket, and therefore its contents, out of view and out of discussion. 

Your nose twitched.

Dragon-training, to you, at least, felt as if it was a personal affair. In that sense, to involve hiccup, someone who was, at this point, an outside part, felt most definitely like interloping, and so, in that sense, he was most definitely not welcome.

Though you doubted he would, if he asked, you would loathe having to explain, or having to come up with an explanation for, well, anything. It felt sort of wrong to share something your heart urged you to hold so preciously, Snotlout aside, and so, in that sense, like most of your precious things, it was of the utmost importance that you keep it hidden.

From Hiccup to dragons, precious thing to precious thing, an affection prone to hurt and a bond intended to be, new and violate- perhaps it was exactly Snotlout’s apathy that made him easier to deal with, the certainly that each of his words would be just as biting, an equal amount sharp, all just as meaningless. The lack of hope a balm, each word more flat ground than a toe teetering on the edge of a string, wobbling and ready to fall either which way.

“Let me just-” You shifted to the side. The two of you were standing face-to-face in the open door to the newly minted dragon stables.

There was plenty of space for you to move, though you did so more to graciously cut through the awkward atmosphere, to split the spell that had broken between the two of you as of late, though you were hard-pressed to understand why.

You met each other step-for-step as you attempted to pass, and through that there was born a sparking frustration in your lower stomach. 

You weren’t sure where the feeling had come from, or maybe you were, but in that moment, you felt foully towards him. You cursed him, who had shown his face just as you had begun to muster up some excitement for something new, with the audacity to look so dazed and joyful after having the gall to leave you feeling so alone for such a long time over and over.

His fruitless search for things nearby would lead him to leaving, you were sure- leaving permanently without so much as a care or a goodbye, leaving you destitute, with nothing better to do than butt heads with petty cousins… if he didn’t take the cousin with him, that was.

“You should stop giving the children Terrors.” You wanted to say something worse, feeling sort of haughty, mouth twitching as you made a considerable effort to smother all the bitter feelings broiling in your gut.

“Uhm,” Hiccup nodded, twitching to life suddenly, as if he’d just come back into himself, “Right?”

You crouched behind a sizable rock, one hand clutching tightly at a sharp, pointed ledge, nose wrinkling at the sour smell of fish which had followed you even long after you’d discarded your hefty basket.

You were on the far side of the island where most of the dragons here lounged, unclaimed. 

Dirt and sharp pebbles ground into your palm as you peered over the top, rocky ledge giving way to reveal a vibrant, blue-looking Thunderdrum. It was standing in a way that was quite posed, on all fours stout as it nosed around in a small clearing, strong breaths pushing against a healthy dusting of grass with each exhale. 

Despite its oddness, it was quite frightening. The dragon was sort of small in the back, but its jaw was large enough to make up for it, and it had a large, beefy set of arms for a Thunderdrum, which made you a little nervous.

Its mouth opened oddly to grasp the small strands of grass and leaves, its neck clearly not built for that kind of consumption. It ended up tearing up dirt whenever it pulled too hard or bit too deep, and whatever it could get ahold of was only roughly nibbled before being quite accidentally dropped.

Thunderdrums didn’t come into the forest that often, so this was your lucky break.

Maybe it will work this time?

“Are you sure this isn’t going to be too much for us to handle?” You shifted, scales shifting against your own hand, which was feeling both quite damp and warm, slime dripping from the ends of your fingers onto the dry crushes of grass by your feet. 

You hoped you’d be able to please at least something with your meager offering before it gave your fingers wrinkled, though you were afraid you were much too late. 

Most of your morning was spent speaking away from Hookfang, who gorged himself quite readily on your catch, watching cautiously all the while as if he knew the two of you were about to do something stupid, yet too bored to do much to stop it. The rest of it was spent putting your ancestors to shame, failing at a great number of things- finding a dragon most particularly.

“Like I said. I’m not gonna help you tame some lame dragon,” Snotlout scoffed, “I don’t do small fry, small fry. So are you going to get it or what?”

“Alright, Chief, keep your trousers laced,” It took you a considerable effort not to make an ass of yourself as you spoke, scowling.

You furrowed your brows with determination, setting your jaw assuredly, shifting on your feet behind the rock. Snotlout peered over the top too, horns sticking out obviously over the edge of it.

“So I just, what- give it the fish?” You asked, half in a whisper, “Should I, like, toss it, or hand it over, or…?”

“How should I know?” Snotlout asked exasperatedly, at a pitch that was perhaps just a bit too loud, “Do I look like the ‘Dragon Master’ to you?”

He asked that last bit mockingly, shrugging his shoulders exaggeratedly, using his fingers to make air quotes.  

“Are you serious?” You asked, gritting your teeth. “But you have a dragon.”

“Well,” Snotlout shot back. The two of you turned to gripe at each other, barely noticing as you were overshadowed, though not caring very much as to what was doing it, “That’s wimp stuff. Hiccup did all the taming.”

You opened your mouth wide, tongue lit with a scathing rebuke. Before you could respond, a loud, malicious, echoey rumbling seemed to fill the air around the two of you.

Slowly, you looked up, shivers, dread and the phantom of a cold sweat gathering around your temples and your spine. You heard the shifting of fur against helmet that dictated that Snotlout was doing the same. 

“Oh, Thor.” You managed to squeak, staring up at a long row of sharp teeth and a wide, angry blue face.

[chaewberry]

the art of touching.

diluc x reader. wc; 6k. tags; friends to enemies, enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst and hurt/comfort, blood and injury, reconciliation, when your love language is being annoying asf. epilogue; part 1. read on ao3.

Shuffled to one corner, shoulder to shoulder with other young ladies of high society, a teacup balancing on your head, and young impressionable minds being dilated with piths of old literature, the core values and ideals of what governed over man and woman — this is what an etiquette class consisted of.

Art was next; the studying of paintings on textbooks as they’ve been sketched and photographed over the years, their history, the way the marble is cut and shaped, the way the bronze hero was melted to make weapons and coins in times of hardship, the way the stony goddess of love shied away not from the viewer nor from her nudity. Gods old and new, dead or alive. Decarabian and his circular castle, his tomb, the would be tyrannical winds that bend to the whims of no one but the few ticklish chords of a harp. The statue of a lover holding onto masterfully crafted fingers, fingers made to match, yet laying underneath the earth for years on end without his beloved, an old poem, indecipherable still, crafted at the heel of the mourning stone, tears of mud in silent agony. The masked fools of unknown origin, the star shaped sword found deep within a dreary chasm, sharp as celestial rage throughout the aeons.

The old madam teaching art was very old indeed. Her glasses laid dormant on the small stool table next to her, thick white hair braided like a crown atop her wrinkled head. She was recounting the story of the lone girl in the clouds again, word for word, not a syllable set adrift by the roughness of her scratchy voice, uttering each sentence like a musical concord. It was an old story, spun through the years, centuries, this way and that way, fitting whichever era’s moral standard of the time in order to teach impressionable young ladies the do’s and don’ts of society and lull children into sleep – the girls toyed with by mere men even as they sat at the hand of a god, wind shifting their fates at the drop of a ball; a lesson about sacrilege, perhaps, though about what? The fair women, or the carved palms which held them up for all the world to see? If this particular god was real, then the ball would surely float or drop out of bounds. Or, the maiden would go through a metamorphosis and take off into the sky. Maybe the lesson behind the story was to learn from the past and try to be better than the forefathers.

If so, it was proving to be a hard learned lesson.

The old lady at the front of the room cleared her throat, gulped the lukewarm tea from her cup, and entered the last few paragraphs of the story.

She wasn’t from any “elite” family in Mondstadt, but she had taught nearly five generations of young ladies now. Having hailed from Snezhnaya, the old croak was bitterly cold, steely eyes cutting even now as one dropped and the other was half closed, neck adorned by old family jewels and fingers heavy with rings gifted out of gratitude – her stern, stiff demeanour when it came to “breaking” the girls – as well as the young boys, occasionally – was looked upon with much reverence indeed, and though now that crown had lost its lustre, the way she still moved about in her old age inspired both awe and fear. With her cane, she hit any giggling girl and knocked a teacup over the head if she thought the gaggling ladies weren’t walking with the right sway. One word from her and anyone one of you in this room could be confined to a house for a month.

You tried to stifle a yawn for the third time in the span of ten minutes, leaning to the side, behind a girl’s back, to hide it. The old bat was more than half blind, but her ears were as sharp as ever.

Her head swivelled towards where you sat. You feared, for a moment, that the weight of her braided crown would snap her neck.

Such fears were always unfounded, however, for wicked old dogs always die last.

It was Friday. You were tired, wanting nothing more than to go home and sleep the rest of the day away or attempt, at first, to take interest in one of the boring books your lady mother had set out for you; even more pamphlets about all the esteeming accomplishments a woman were to have to deserve to be regarded as such — music, dancing, drawing, the occasional child rearing lecture, the knowledge of languages. Surely, she didn’t want you to spend the rest of the rest of your precious weekend in a similar fashion? It was truly impossible, unfathomable even. You could already feel your body, your nerves, thrushing this way and that way to move; the corner of your lips, your eyebrow, a finger or all of them, a change in position, a look in another direction. You longed for this dreary business to end, you yearned for something to wake your sly interests. Anyone and anything would do, as long as this wretched, meaningless class ended this moment and the party proceeded with the usual “walkabout” around town. This activity, one where you’d be forced to walk around with another girl or two for company, dressed in fine silks and linen fabrics, made to socialise with people you wanted nothing to do with, would be an activity most detested by you. This day however, the promise of stretching out your legs seemed like an everlasting winter.

Of course, there were other options besides a promenade, and as long as you could slip away from present company you would be able to fill up your daily quota of bad deeds easily enough. It’d be unfortunate if the day passed without you committing a small sin or another, a miniscule disgraceful act to satisfy you.

The heavens seemed to have smiled upon you then — the old croak cleared her throat, again, and tapped the gilded end of her blackwood pipe at the edge of the round table where a couple of books and her tea, which by now must’ve grown cold, sat. “That is all for today, young ladies,” she dismissed promptly, taking the time to filter through the faces amongst her crowd. As the ice of her gaze drew near you you made sure to straighten up your posture, keep your face as tightly still as possible, imagining your skin stretching over too much bone, hands folded neatly on top of your lap. If you could will your eyes to shine as brightly as the stars in the sky you would. Alas, whatever dullness she found in them either did not raise her particular concern (the seven forbid if your mother and father received from her another letter depicting the crime of the mediocrity of your interest in her and her words) or perhaps you did willfully enlightened your eyes through the mere thought.

In any case, you wasted no time after that in jumping up from your seat, grabbing the book you’ve been handed, a theological monstrosity wrapped around a predictable love story written before your grandmother was even born. 

You could never understand the thought what lurking danger could be behind a kiss on the cheek by a ‘fair maiden’, and yet this book certainly vexed you enough by the mortification such an innocent touch brought to the literary masses dubbed with ink in those pages as to think that yes, perhaps a simple kiss was a cursed thing to give to a lover if it were going to enrage the masses, so much so, in fact,  that they’d resort to stoning you or burn you alive as a witch, or accuse you of such ridiculous crimes that brought you the urgent want to use the pages of the book as a fire starter. The meaning behind the story, you thought, was so painstakingly clear that the old hag herself would have grown bored of it by now. Perhaps, if she lived for another half a decade, she could request a more salacious book, one where a woman and a man held hands even, and shared a kiss under a cherry tree, or in between the bushes, or wherever else a lover’s kiss could be freely given to the beloved.

“Miss Wolfram,” a most inconvenient companion called out to you, going as far as to even link arms with you. “Walk with us?”

Drat.

You smiled. “Of course. Where to?” you asked, trying to show the proper enthusiasm as you curled your elbow around hers.

She giggled, her other friend following suit at her other elbow. “By the training grounds - there is more eventful game to be found there, no?”

“How shameless, Anna.”

There was no bite behind your words, of course, and she knew it — hence the reason she continued to smirk, even as her shy friend at the other side started growing red with realisation. “Perhaps,” Anna hummed, blonde curls shining beautifully under the sun. “But I would like to think that the satisfaction of ocular senses is much more elegant than those of the more depraved ones. A sweet tongue like yours, Wolf, would be much better suited to remain sharp rather than bland.”

Ah.

“If so, then I pity old lady Klavdiya. You clearly don’t know the dangers a passing look could hide. Just read the book, it should tell you all about it.”

“Mm, if we were still in the old ages then perhaps I would’ve been more shy. As it is now I am more than certain that passing looks can be fruitful for one’s constitution, isn’t that right, Maria?”

The shy brunette nodded, growing even more red. You couldn’t resist poking fun at her. “I see. They say it’s always the quiet ones.”

Anna laughed. “Something like that, I suppose.”

By now you had arrived at the fountain. There was a kid in it, trying to give a bath to a fluffy, plumpy looking house cat who had its claws hooked to the kid’s sleeves and meowing like all frightened house cats did. Its bushy tail was curled between its hind legs, and no matter how many promises of tasty and sweet scented fish the kid gave, the feline persisted against the ill advised idea. Anna went on then, as you three walked towards the stairs leading up to the Knights headquarters, how amusing it was to keep pets at one’s house, commenting on how to tend to them, their fur, their fussy attitudes when it was time yet again to cut their nails. Maria agreed heartedly with her friend and appeared to gather some confidence in her shoulders as she marched on.

You stayed silent for the most part, simply humming along in agreement - what did you know of pets, anyway - all the while thinking of all the dangers walking by a dozen or so young boys and men, all of whom were, surely under this scorching sun, in some state of undress, and the fits of blood breaking in the face if that outcome shall come to pass. Perhaps Anna had some vested interest in the flowers wilting under the sun, though in your humble opinion, none of those flowers would ever grace your window, none of them, even in their throes of blossoming beauty, could ever tempt you to dirty the hems of your skirts, to bow down and pick one up, indulge in their colours and smells. 

On your way up you met the old man Alchemist. He was holding on to his cane and trying, with his arthritis riddled bones and nerves, to gather a soil sample for some reason or another. Anna stopped, while still gripping your elbow around hers she suggested Maria help the poor man with his work. “Once you’re finished, we can meet up in the plaza?” she asked in a way that was too soft, too mellow. If honey could rot, resting upon that tongue would be one way to do it.

Despite the scowls but still polite spoken refusals from the old Alchemist - he was old and thus equipped with little patience about the vices of a rich girl such as Anna Lionheart - Maria, partly due to mortification at the clear dismissal from her more influential friend, and also probably due to her good nature (and this you firmly believed, for never had you seen her committing a grave sin which would befoul her honour and title as a lady, always cradling the broken boned bird in her soft, petite hands, and because people have always confused kind, nice gestures with stupidity), made quick work of soiling the fabric around her knees by kneeling down on the dirt since the old Alchemist couldn’t. Admittingly, his old and wrinkled complexion took a hit, for he seemed now more appalled at the notion of not only receiving help with his soon-to-be-over-indefinitely work, but to also receive said help from a girl who would gladly “debase” herself enough to dirty herself. 

Whereas Anna Lionheart’s family was in the same circle as yours was, merchants which had the means to sell products to half of Teyvat and more, Maria’s family was a family of only old money and not much power. They owned part of a field the town used for agriculture, getting some pretty coin every harvest, but no more than that. Your family and Anna’s the Leonhearts and the Wolframs, had the means to apply pressure where pressure needed to be applied if given reason, had the power (which consisted of mostly gall and putting up airs, you were of the belief) to block this vote on such matter or another, to push  for that vote in this discussion or another and even introduce one.

Of course, the Knights of Favonius were no fools.

Varka was an especially devious one; a remark which your father had groaned and whined about for no more than at least two dozen times the past year for some reason. Whatever governing power he held out in front of the faces of the elite class, he did so with his various degrees of amusement and mischief, and only allowed them to smell the intricacies of said power before he pocketed it away. When it came to social power — well, the public wasn’t especially gracious in their behaviour towards any of them, sneering or side eyeing them with no small degree of scrutiny. This abuse (and you used this word lightly) was a smudge in an otherwise unbroken, white paged book which the Ragnvindrs didn’t have to suffer; always the darlings of this free city since ancient times, with beautiful daughters and equally handsome sons, all the exemplary manners and everyday etiquette, painstakingly unblemished morals, and the annoying habit of being genuine believers of the god Barbatos.

Now, if only your brother managed to win the favour of Varka as well as that one of the good and young Captain then perhaps your family too will be able to taste the saccharine treat of being a societal ‘darling’ in this city. 

(he was doomed to fail, of course — your belief in the existence of Barbatos was begrudgingly one towards acceptance, if only to prove that the family’s sins of the past had cost you now, in the present time, your future. As it were, the impression of a family curse being laid upon the bones of your forefathers and now upon yours as well had not made its existence known, even of your father’s eyes were always lurking here and there for a speck of it, and your mother’s Sumerian blood chuckled at the ridiculous notion of it.)

Why, one of those priceless sweethearts was but a few mere steps away, instructing his knights to run this way or the other, to drop down and give him their laboured breaths, their sweats and tears.

“Oh my,” Anna hummed, flicking her fan open and hiding her smiling nose and nose behind it, “aren’t we in luck? Look, Wolf, starlings, so many starlings.” She admired and mocked in the same breath, a prominent characteristic from which she derived love and, thus, hate. “Don’t you want to bite some?” 

Ah, the shortening of your surname to its basic animalistic meaning seemed to amuse her as well, for some obscure reason or another, but of course, this was a test, you surmised with surety, for the lion and the wolf were both dangerous, and if the brave one wanted to tease, the cunning one need only play along and wait.

“I am afraid I’d starve,” you went along with her metaphor, because of course you’d be forced to be reduced to such driveling cliches. You'd roll your head straight out of your skull if it weren't considered rude.

She hummed. “You’re right. Your teeth are much too sharp for those little bones, but you must indulge me just this once. Today was dreadfully dull.”

By now, the presence of two ladies standing next to the training grounds garnered some attention from the knights. A few of the other ones, presumably recognizing when they were being sized up for a particular kind of slaughter, suddenly seemed as spry as spring. Someone blushed, someone coughed scandalously while scrambling to wear one of the piled up, discarded shirts (clearly, someone needed to hold a seminar about proper hygiene), while others started picking up speed, making a show of flexing whatever attributes they thought were their best possessions. It was no secret that a lot of young ladies seemed to have a particular interest in frequently adding the Ordo Favonious headquarters in their daily walks, especially at times such as these, when October sun was beginning to dip underneath the earth sooner and sooner. 

It would be unfair, however, to include the ladies and not the gentlemen which too came to ogle, either at their closest male companions and friends - the seven knew if undressing your closest friend was considered pure platonic comradery or a sign if true friendship - or to enchant the female knights with their usual smiles or annoy them with their scepticism. Case in point; a raven haired knight wedged her axe over her head and brought it down on the wooden dummy with adequate ferocity, all the while glaring at your direction. You ignored the poor display of intimidation, but was greatly surprised when Anna winked at the woman, who then proceeded to miss her next swing and end up almost embedding the axe into her own foot as she sputtered and blushed.

You smiled, said nothing for a moment.

The captain himself was now throwing you a calculating look as he gave instruction on the next set of exercises.

“Fine,” you conceded. “Should I go first?”

“Before you do, you must tell me what your appetite consists of.” 

“Oh dear,” you fanned your face, full of faux modesty, “you can’t possibly expect me to admit to that.”

“I surely can - I must know if we are eyeing the same man.”

“Well, I am certainly eyeing a man.”

The grip she had on your elbow loosened. Turning her head to you now, she said, “go on, then.”

Out of all the knights here you were sure that more than half of them had warm, strong hands, charming air that could make you think twice as hard about the words you spoke, the way you acted, and maybe even all of them had been blessed with the good looks of mediocrity and beyond that. More than half of them had sense and the taste for responsibility a woman - or a man too - would look for, especially if one shared the same lazy characteristic as you. Why do anything when you had a strong presence next to you, kindled by the flames of duty and sensibility, kindness (even if that kindness was shown in a way that passed as roughness) and delicate sensibilities for you to grab on and twist?

Many of these knights held such esteemed characteristic traits, indeed, but you only had the need for the one.

You dislodged yourself from the lion and walked forward, ignoring all the puzzling, vexed looks thrown in your way. Your target was familiar with you, your antics, and some of the things you got up with his other familial relation — which was why you excused the frazzled, yet still polite, gaze he threw at you, arms coming to rest at his side, exactly as he was taught.

A proper gentleman, this city’s darling and your current target upon whom you’d inflict your half hearted villainy.

You stopped in front of him, smiling as brightly as you could, and said, “Captain.”

“Miss Wolfram.” 

Despite the fact that the good and honourable Captain was but seventeen years of age his voice sounded out firm and sure, without any of the teenage awkwardness and cracking quality it held only three years prior in his birthday party. Back then you had been just an inch taller than him and took indeed great pleasure in torturing him in that regard, taking his hand and leading him into the middle of the ballroom for the purpose of granting him his first dance that day, all the while berating yourself silently in a vain attempt to stop your face from cracking in two as the boy squawked and sputtered with non of his current grace. Oh, you had twirled him this way and that, dipped him low on the floor and gifted him a glass of orange juice and a kiss to the knuckles that left them red in the end.

Your mother had berated you the next day, your father had stayed ever so blessedly silent and shut himself into his office while your brother had adopted such a wonderful shade of fury you could still remember its taste it left on your satisfied, thrilled younger self — and when Kaeya invited you over to the Ragnvindr manor the next week for a history studying session (a session which you spend playing cards and fooling around the house if you remembered correctly), you had the personal pleasure of seeing the young heir stomp past you with little to zero grace, all pouty lips and affronted brows. You and Kaeya giggled, and his father was thankfully a forgiving man with a sense of humour, much to Diluc’s dismay.

Unfortunately, that would be the first and last time you’d tease him so, for in the next six months or so he sprouted up like a Sumerian fungus and you could no longer drag him at will to here and there.

“I am in need of your assistance,” you said, inching closer to him still, “and there are important matters I wish to discuss with you, seeing as you’re a knight, and so the only one who can help me shade some light into this particularly questionable choice of literature.”

The Captain, holding true and steadfast to his training, didn’t diminish your rather childish whims, evident as they were in the tone of your voice, in the way your eyes squinted as you smiled and blinked, but he did, however, chose to put them aside for the time being. “I am quite busy,” he said with a tone so mellow it rivalled the warmest of spring days — but did not satiate your desire for his attention at the present moment. 

From the corner of your eyes you saw the beats that dogged your steps open  her frilly umbrella. It was much harder to ascertain if her eyes were trained on you or away from you. Still, that mattered little. You didn’t want to spend the rest of your free day entertaining Anna Lionheart.

It was with one particular goal in mind that you decided to refuse his refusal on attending to your problem -- your intolerance to his intolerance when it came to you did nothing but egg you on, swell your cheeks with giggles and teasing remarks. It was one thing to fluster a much younger Diluc, as fun as it was, but it another matter entirely to cause him to fluster in front of his brave knights. 

“I insist.” You looked back towards the sun beaten knights. “I doubt a break will do your hounds any harm.”

He frowned. “Don’t call them that.”

“Mutts, then,” you compromised.

His crown of red hair was pulled back into a low ponytail as it usually were, but some strands had managed to escape their hold, framing the youthful yet stern face of the Captain. His bangs look dishevelled, sticking to the left and to the right, forming a part in the middle. His eyes, of course, seem content in harvesting the sun’s rays into them, which only seemed to serve in making the Captain look even more a twinkle eyed than usual, and though the usual scowl hanged from his face - no doubt brought on by the insult against his knights - his face remained a smooth marbled testament to how truly young Diluc was.

“You betray your origin,” he simply said.

For a moment, you were too stunned by the thinly veiled insult to react, but then you laughed behind your closed fan. “ Ah, no, it’s merely my family name.”

He was too familiar with you to act like a proper gentleman, and yet foreign enough to not speak the harsher words brewing around that mind of his. In return, however, your answer only made him look that much more upset, or perhaps ashamed due to his words, or maybe yours. It wasn’t good etiquette to insult someone so bare-faced, even if the words spoken rang true.You couldn’t resist teasing him then. “I assure you Master Diluc, the view from down below is quite lovely. Never has the sky looked so regal, so perennial.”

“I said your origin, not your family name.”

You remembered, if only for a second, why you hated the man - the boy - standing right in front of you. “You can be so naive sometimes, Diluc. I am my family’s name.”

You were anxious, for a moment, that he was going to reject you again altogether and you’d be forced to stand under the lion’s vindictiveness. 

The Captain only stayed silent for a mere minute, sighing before turning to his knights to dismiss them. A weak chorus of happiness rang out into the courtyard and you had to press your lips together to beat back a smile as Diluc’s face spasmed. One by one, the knights emptied out of the courtyard. When you turned around you found Anna nowhere near the vicinity. You’d be annoyed at having been given the slip, especially since she was the one to drag you all the way here in the first place, but you were most eager to leave now. Today Kaeya was working at the tavern. If you were lucky enough, he’d be able to slip you a cool glass of cherry liqueur before you had to head back home. After all, shouldn’t you indulge in the freedom Barbatos himself toiled so hard to earn for his people?

“Okay,” Diluc said, grabbing his winter coat and seething his standard Favonius sword away before passing it off to a knight. “I presume you’ll be wanting to go to the tavern then?”  he asked, slipping in his coat, “and what is this about questionable literature?” 

He made to take a step forward but stopped when you slapped his bicep with your closed fan. Dumbfounded, he looked down at the offending item in your hand. “What?”

“Is this how you treat a lady such as me? A simple let’s go ?” you huffed. “If I had been informed of your caveman like manners I would’ve abandoned you post haste young master Diluc - or is the gentlemanly air of appearances you go on about with just a game for appearance’s sake?”

A muscle in his cheek jumped -- and you knew which prize you desired most. 

“If anyone here is playing a game I’d rather think it would be you.” 

Nevertheless, he offered you his arm, like any gentleman would. “You are right, of course, so play along!” You curled your elbow around his. “Whatever little standing I may have in your eyes, whisk it away for today and play this game of pretence with me.”

Wisely - or perhaps more foolishly - Diluc didn’t react much to your jib, only managing to glow a faint red which could be attributed, surely, to the effect your irritating wiles had on him. Having gathered his wits, he turned to you swiftly. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

You opened your fan, hiding the lower part of your face lest he saw the way your lips quirked. “Let us examine that statement for a moment, shall we?”

“Let’s not.”

“Who was it that refused to help me , an unchaperoned lady, when she asked the first time, and had to thus resort to insisting a second time?” 

Incredulous now, Diluc opened his mouth to speak — you pressed your fan against his lips to shut him up, ignoring the flare of his vision hanging from his hip between you. “And who was it, once again, that rather rudely stated that I was betraying my origin? What other origin could you possibly mean but me ? You are, now, indicating that not only do you know my person but that I have also significantly lowered my position in your eyes with nothing more than a benign comment,” - as if calling his knights mutts warranted such treatment, ha! - “and now, lastly, you see fit to presume my destination which, for me, an unchaperoned lady of seemingly high status would bring nothing but shame and horror to my family name if I were ever to be found out in those kinds of establishments.”

The young Captain was, once again, foolishly staying quiet, all suffering.

“Where does that particular presumption lead, if not to belittle me and debase me as an everyday street wench who loves sweet wine and has naught opportunities to write red letters?”

Finally, the young Captain’s face crumpled and the corners of his eyes creased with laughter. Taking a hold of her wrist, he lowered the hand that was holding the fan up to his face. Why, he was smiling truly now. “The airs of rich innocence don’t suit you.”

“Perhaps,” you admitted. “ Perhaps. Yet, I have not failed to notice the lack of rebuttals regarding my apt observations.”

He stayed silent, urging you instead to start walking towards the plaza with the little fountain and the myriad of aroma’s coming from the food stalls. 

The month of February was in reality no less harsher than that of January, and even as early in the day as it was, the sun was beginning to sink beneath mountains and rivers, painting white clouds with the first droplets of pink — always a sight, those pink clouds, and then after the fiery orange spreading over the celestial sky, breaking out in stark white stars.

In truth, you’ve wasted so much time with Lionheart and her friend, and now with Diluc too, that taking a short trip to the tavern was near impossible if you wanted to make it home before dark. You could only hope that the footman waiting by the family carriage hadn’t been carried off by his wiles yet again, lest you find the fool decorating the bushes outside the Ragnvindr’s Tavern once more with his foul stomach content.

The long, white-grey coat was whipping around your legs, Diluc’s dark one doing the same; dancing in the winds, slapping against each other and against the windas you walked on, the whipping cold numbing your unprotected nose. You had refused to wear a hat, however, even in this weather, for it would ruin the perfect head of hair you had toiled over, and although the air current was certainly doing the same, you preferred whipped like hair instead of the frizzy monstrosity the hat would have introduced.

The heat emanating from Diluc’s vision was nearly leaving steam as it drove away the cold, allowing a mellow warmth, liquid, as it set into your bones. There were days where nothing in the world could warm you after succumbing to a cold, no matter how close to the fireplace you lay, in your own room, entombed with your own will and touch. Your fingers would grow stiff from the cold, leaving you thus unable to write with comfort and fluidity — and you so hated scratchy letters, unmoving and petrified down onto the page, nothing you hated more than the pain on your back as your muscles locked into themselves as you shivered. 

Winter was most foul. Beautiful in its own unique way, yet foul nevertheless.

You could offer a complaint to the man - boy - next to you, but sort of lighting himself on fire there was nothing to be done. Besides, the last dying embers of the sun would be able to sustain the sound mobility of your fingers until you arrived home.

And while you were buried under the nonsensical musing of cold and winter, of hot soups and fire whiskeys hidden in your father’s library, Diluc stopped, abruptly, at the top of the staircase leading down to the plaza.

“Do you really believe that?” he asked, staring into your eyes in a way that made you squirm.

“What?”

“Do you really believe I hold naught respect for you?”

You narrowed your gaze. “Who said anything about respect?”

Affronted, he repeated your own words back to you. “I have not failed to notice the lack of rebuttals regarding my apt observations.”

“Ah, that.” You waved him off. “That was me simply teasing you; you know it to be my favourite pastime.

“Good,” he said, resolutely, and so began your descent down the stairs. “As annoying as you are sometimes -” excuse me!? “- you must know I hold you in the highest regard.”

The words flowed so easily out of his mouth it nearly made you stumble and for laughter to burst out of your mouth. The tight knot in the pit of your stomach whipped itself around your lower ribs. “Such words should be given a bit of thought before given so freely - like I said, dear Captain, you are still somewhat naive.”

For a moment he regarded you with absolute earnesty (because the boy had always worn his heart on his sleeve), and you considered tripping him down the stairs.

“Maybe I am,” Diluc said. “But I am not prepared to give up my position in this matter.”

“I see.” you hummed, certain you were delirious. “Very well then. You must promise me, however, that when and if you’re ever proven wrong in that regard that you won’t reproach me; after all, I have clearly stated your faults in your opinions of others, and so I have washed my hands of consequence when it comes to your person.”

He sighed, a glimmer of his childhood self shining through with the pout that followed. “You are needlessly dramatic.”

“I am not,” you rebuked, and then, because the rope around your intestines felt as if it had wrapped its rough, itchy limbs around your fragile ribs, you demanded, “say it again.”

“Say what again.”

“What you just said.”

“Needlessly dramatic?”

“ No. Before that.”

He flushed, and the dark pink colour in his cheeks was beautiful against the harshness of winter. “Why must I say it again?”

“Do you need a reason to pay a compliment to a lady such as myself?”

“A debt I've already paid off.”

“Kaeya would do my bidding,” you changed tactics, knowing full well that the other Ragnvindr brother would absolutely not do such a thing - he’d be more prone to cooking a fish on your lips than doing what he was told.

You felt lightheaded at the prospect of Diluc doing the same.

“He would not !” the redhead almost stomped, looking down on you with mounting vexation. The blood red of his eyes blended with his whipping hair, black eyelashes long enough for the first flakes of snow to clutch onto.

“He would, ” you kept on, stubborn in your lies. “Kaeya is a good boy who knows that all good things must be said thrice.” 

That was the reason he lied so much, after all.

Diluc was a portrait of scandalization. “Let’s change the subject.”

“Only if you say please three times in a row.”

[solar-bean]

Jut found out that the full Touchstarved game might not be out till 2025 so here's a scenario I imagined with Ais. Has the others interact with mc too, but Ais is the main love interest. Hope this doesn't feel too much like my oc. I chose the Unnamed route so that may be brought up.

Worth The Trouble ( Ais x GN Reader )

( Content Warning: Violence, Blood, cursing, Ais being Ais, Remember what he did to that guy in the demo )

MC = Y/N ( I'm too tired from finals to type the slash, sorry 😭)

It started off as a normal day in Eridia, or at least as peaceful as things could be in the hellscape of a city. MC went to the market for some light grocery shopping, their small tote bag half full, when a group of kids zoomed past them. For a flash they could see that the kids' arms were full of produce, a few stray fruits leaving a trail in their wake. It was mere seconds before an enraged yell from a man was heard.

" Get back here you little shits!!!" the a man, a local produce seller, barreled down in the kid's direction. Nearly knocking down passersby, MC included.

One of the smaller kids tripped, dropping all of their stolen goods. They called to their friends for help but it was too late. The seller had already grabbed them by the collar like a stray puppy.

" Stupid maggot! I'll show you what happens to thieves around here!!" He pulled back his meaty fist to strike them.

Without thinking, MC ran to grab his wrist before the blow landed.

" Hey! That's going way too far."

The seller looked down at them and snarled.

" Stay out of this! This is between me and this little thief here."

" I get that but look at them." MC pointed to the kid's dirty clothes that were holding on by threads. " Clearly they aren't stealing for the fun of it. Can't you let them go?"

The seller scoffed at them, foul breath fanning their face. Thankfully they held back their disgust.

" I'm not running a charity. If the kid wants to eat the kid's gotta pay."

MC thought for a moment as they stared at the child, who was still curled in a protective ball. Although their face was covered, it was clear by their trembling that they were crying. MC immediately remembered all the times they'd been hungry and in need after they fled the temple. While they survived they couldn't imagine doing so at this child's age. How long had they been suffering?

" I'll do it."

" Do what?"

" Pay." MC reached into their cloak and pulled out their coin purse. " I've got plenty to spare." which wasn't true but they'd manage. The seller gave them a long, calculated glare before sighing.

" Fine."

He put the kid down. They gave a quick glance to the seller then the MC before grabbing their haul and scurrying off to where the rest of the group went. MC wasn't expecting a thank you, but the last look the kid gave to them over their shoulder was enough.

" Ok," MC counted the coins in their palm, leaving the purse nearly empty. " Will this be enough?"

The seller took the coins. Counting each while scratching his stubbly chin.

" Yeah, almost..."

MC looked at him confused. They were sure that they gave him much more than his nearly, spoiled produce was worth. They almost didn't notice his arm go up. But they did feel the strike across their face. Everything went white for a moment as they stumbled. Pain flared over the entirety of the right side of MC's face. They pressed their palm to it and whipped their gaze back to the seller stunned.

" What the fuck is your problem??!!" they shrieked at him.

" Don't look so confused. You said you'd pay for everything. That includes punishment. " He let out a dark chuckle and walked pass them. " Maybe think twice next time you wanna be someone's savior."

MC gawked at his back. What kind of asshole pulls a stunt like that. He got his money fair and square. Clearly he just wanted a reason to cause someone harm. They wanted to let it go and move on but crap that hit really hurt. His hands were big enough to crush their skull and they were pretty sure that his ring cut their cheek. There was no way they were gonna let him walk away so easily.

" Hey!"

The seller turned around and was met with a fist right to the nose. He reeled back, giving MC enough time to land a kick to his kneecap. He fell to the city floor with the gracefulness of an old dying ox, MC's coins going down with him. They grabbed a handful of them before making a break for it back to the Wet Wick.

Out of breath, energy, half their coins and what little faith they had in humanity, all MC wanted to do was go to sleep in their room and maybe have some of their scraps for dinner. It could've been made into a full meal but they hadn't realized they'd dropped their tote bag until it was too late. Thankfully, the bar sounded empty from the outside, so at least they could avoid the headache of possibly socializing.

" Hey sparrow."

Shit.

There right in his usual spot at the bar sat Ais, accompanied by Vere and Leander.

" Hey Ais..." they said weakly, pulling up their hood even more to hide the blooming bruises.

" Um Excuse me. I'm here too dear. Goodness has being here already dulled your manners?" came Vere, tail playfully swaying.

" Hey Vere." they said quickly as they tried to flee to their room, but that would've been to easy.

" Oh MC how was the market did you get anything good?" Leander asked, conveniently getting in front of them and blocking their path. They didn't look up at him and did their best not to adjust their hood again.

" Yeah, yeah it was good."

" But where's your tote ba-"

" It's getting late I'll see you guys later." MC swerved around him, nearly home free.

" Sparrow."

They stopped. Ais' piercing gaze burning into their back.

" Come here, please." he instructed in a soft yet stern tone. They couldn't resist him. He'd only pry more if they did, so reluctantly they sat next to him, avoiding eye contact.

" Take off your hood."

They stayed still. The air filled with a tense silence.

" Ais come one. They've probably had a long day. I'm sure their fi-" Lenader nearly choked when MC took their hood off. " What the hell happened?! Are you ok?!"

" Obviously not." Vere scoffed. " Thought I smelled blood but that's nothing new for you. Do tell, what mess have you found yourself in this time, MC?"

MC let out a tired sigh. Leander's worrying and Vere's teasing made for a sickening combo on an already shitty afternoon.

" It's nothing. I just ran into a bad guy at the market. Nothing interesting." They were about to get up to leave when Ais' hand was placed firmly on their shoulder.

" Humor us would ya? What really happened?" While the slight smile on his face was meant to be assuring, MC knew he was up to no good.

" Really it's nothing. I just saw some kids steal some food and one of them got caught by the seller. So I thought hey why not be nice and help this clearly starving child. But nope! As usual the situation blew up in my face. Apparently coins weren't enough payment for the guy so he- " They mimicked the back-handed slap motion they'd been a victim to. " The asshole didn't even have the decency to warn me first, so I thought it was only fair to get in a few blows in myself then run like hell before things got too heated. So yeah that's it. Nothing special."

After what they hadn't meant to be a ramble there was another thick silence. Crap maybe I said too much. Then a low chuckle came from beside them. Oh good Ais found the story amusing, maybe they were worried for nothing. But that was quickly put aside when they turned to look at him.

His grin was downright dangerous. Fangs gleaming and all. His eyes were even worse, glowing with a bloodlust that would scare a soulless shitless.

" I'll be right back." he said, getting up from his seat and stretching out his tired joints with a pop.

" Ais." Leander warned. " Let's think about this, ok buddy."

" Nothing to think about. Now," He stood in front of MC and leaned down to their level. " Which seller was it?"

MC felt their pulse quicken. Not just from being at eye level with Ais, but also from the immense violent aura he began to exude.

" Really Ais it's fine. I hit him pretty hard so we're even."

" I'm sure you did. But this is purely for my own selfish vices. I can't rest easy knowing this jackass is going around threatening kids and hitting customers. So who was it?"

" Ais. It's not worth the trouble just let it g-"

Ais' hand swiftly taken ahold of their chin. With a gentleness that greatly contrasted his character, he tilted MC's face to better examine the damage. They couldn't help the heat that rose within them.

" Plenty worth the trouble to me." He tilted their head back to face forward. " Who was it, MC."

Maybe it was the softness of his tone or the way he said their name instead of Sparrow, but they confessed. Even down to what stalls the seller's had been next to. He gave them a small, genuine smile and went on the hunt.

" Well, there's no stopping him now. Let's get some ice on that bruise, hm." Leander went around the counter, paying no mind to MC's breathless expression. In no time he came back with clean rag and another with ice inside. " Alright let me see."

Before he could attend to their face, Vere cut in.

" Leander, didn't the doctor leave some magic elixir or whatever for minor injuries in the backroom?"

" Oh you're right. He did. I should go get it."

" Yes you should." Vere smiled sweetly then frowned once Leander was out of sight. " Good I couldn't tolerate him for much longer without Ais here."

" Don't get too excited, he'll be back soon." MC reminded him.

" No he won't," Vere swiped the rag that Leander left on the counter near the ice bag before turning back to them with a mischievous smirk. " I poured those nasty medicine bottles out weeks ago."

MC gawked at him.

" Why would you do that? What if someone needed those?"

" What like you? Don't be such a baby you'll be fine. Now hold still. I can only take so much of you blood smelling up the place."

With a similar gentleness as Ais, Vere took hold of their chin and began to dab the blood away from the cut that was already beginning to close. MC didn't have the energy for anymore shock today, so they relished in the care.

" You know. This pacifist act you're playing won't do you any good in this city"

MC sighed and grabbed the ice bag to put on their bruise once he was done with the cut.

" I'm not a pacifist. Trust me I've got nothing against that jerk getting what he deserves. I just don't want Ais to get in any trouble because of me."

" Hmph, now why would Ais get in trouble?"

" Because, he's a monster. What if the Senobium punishes him for being too violent?"

Vere hummed to himself. He carelessly tossed the bloody rag on the floor and leaned back against the counter, tail swishing languidly.

" Oh don't fret dear. The Senobium's too up their own asses to care about a few lowtown brutes getting torn apart. Besides I highly doubt Ais would do anything so dreadful as to get a punishment like mine. And if he did..." Vere's eyes turned a bright pink, his fangs seemed longer as well. " I'd tear this city to the ground before they laid a finger on him."

MC just stared at him for a while. The primordial fear in their gut was unmistakable, but they couldn't help but feel a bit relieved.

" Well I'm glad Ais has a friend like you to look after him."

The fox scoffed.

" I'm not his friend."

A bit confused by that response, they were sure he was joking. The duo seemed as close as Mhin and Kuras if not more.

" Ok then I'm glad you're his very close, foxy furry acquaintance."

Vere's ears went down as he scowled at them.

" I can break you like a twig. Don't forget that."

They merely chuckled at that although they weren't entirely sure if he was serious or not.

" Sorry for the wait!" Came Leander's chipper voice. He rejoined the two with a small container of bandaids and a bottle of unknown liquid. " Took me forever to find this elixir. I could've swore we had more bottles. Thankfully, I always stash a spare."

" Wow how great is that Vere." MC gave him an innocent smile that in turn got them glare. Vere definitely meant that threat now.

----

Ais arrived back at the bar late into the night. He wreaked of blood despite his best efforts to clean himself. He didn't want to make another bad impression on his new...new friend? Acquaintance? Whatever they were he wanted them around him more often. Which would be hard if they were scared of him. Did he scare them before when asking about the seller? They seemed nervous, but most people were around him, especially after knowing about his brutal tendencies.

Perhaps they didn't mind. He got a good look at the seller's broken nose, and what he could assume was an injured knee that made it all the easier to catch and corner him. The sparrow really did have a tough side after all. He was almost sad that he sullied their work with his own. No one would suspect that what was left of the asshole was the handiwork of two pissed off individuals. Maybe returning their tote bag full of goods and the coins that he'd swiped from the guy's pockets would be a good enough apology gift.

The barkeep was cleaning shot glasses when he arrived. Out of no where a wave of unease hit him. Maybe he came back too late and should just leave their stuff here.

" Got something for MC. Can you give it to them for me?"

The barkeep only spared him a quick glance.

" Do I look like a delivery boy? Drop it off at their door yourself, I'm busy." She replied with a bitterness that he always found amusing.

" Yes ma'am."

He was in front of their door when the doubt came back, sweaty palms too. What the hell was he nervous for? He doesn't get nervous. This was just a small favor for a frien-aquaintance. Just put the stuff down and go. But what if someone took it? Maybe he should see if they're awake first. Maybe not what if he wakes them up.

Annoyed by his rambling thoughts he did least smart thing and opened, which should've been locked, door. It was dark inside, aside the moonlight from a small window. His higher than average vision could make out a small bed with a lump under the covers. Next to it was a dresser. He made his way to it quietly, mentally cursing the metal on his boots for the creaks they made in the floorboards.

Finally at his destination, he set the tote bag and coins on the dresser and turned to leave. But curiosity got the best of him. He snuck a peak at MC and it was all over. The covers were up to their nose. There was a small bandage on their cheek. The bruising seemed to have healed a bit. Ais had never seen them look so peaceful. It was actually pretty cute. Then he realized how creepy this whole situation was and made his way to the door.

" Ais...?"

Shit!

He stopped mid step, looking over his shoulder at them. Their eyes were barely open and their voice was quiet and soft.

" That you?"

He sighed.

" Yeah it's me sparrow. Don't worry just wanted to return your bag. I'm leaving, go back to sleep." he kept walking.

" Are you ok?"

He stopped again, wide eyed.

" What?" he asked.

They yawned.

" I smell blood."

Oh, he thought. They were worried about him? That's actually really sweet. When was the last time anyone got worried for him? Vere and Kuras maybe. But they knew he could handle himself. It's what's he's good at. Looking out for himself when no one will. When everyone else leaves eventually.

But maybe MC wanted to stick around.

He smiled, unsure if they could see his face so he made sure they could hear it in his voice.

" I'm just fine sparrow. It's not my blood you're smelling."

They smiled back before yawning again.

" Good. Well see ya later I guess..."

They curled back into their blanket and pillow, already drifting. He took in the sight one last time before leaving and closing the door.

" Yeah see ya later."

The barkeep and every wander through the night had no idea why the feared demon renegade, Ais, had the softest smile on his face all the way back to the wastelands.

[antimatterz]

lucky day

luka x gn!reader

summary: you found the cutest plushie in a claw machine, but can't get a hold of it. fortunately, a handsome stranger shows up to help you out.

cw: modern au, first meeting, probably ooc luka ?

content under the cut | masterlist

today was not your lucky day.

for the nth time in such a short span of time, you popped yet another coin into the slot, once again purchasing three attempts to get that adorable plushie from the claw machine at the local fair. you lost track of how much you'd already spent, and maybe that was for the better. you were pretty sure it was getting out of hand, but you were this far in and you didn't want to walk away empty-handed after putting in so much time, money, and effort.

a small group of kids was looking at you curiously as your hand moved to the joystick, navigating the robotic claw to be precisely above the desired plush. they'd been staring at you for quite some time now, because it must've been obvious how desperate you were to win. for you, it was torture, but you guessed it was pretty entertaining for them.

as you deemed its position to be correct, you slammed the button with a little too much enthusiasm, and the claw began its descend. hope filled your being as it gnawed at the plush, dragging it upward a few inches. but then the weight came to be too much to carry, and the stuffed toy fell down again.

it went like that for a good twenty minutes at this point, and although you've been stubborn for the past fifteen minutes, you were about to give up. you were out of coins, and the utter frustration you felt wasn't aiding in the game. yeah, it was time to head out and go home and forget about this stupidly cute plushie. you'd just find it online and get it way cheaper.

with a huff, you turned around, ready to stomp away from the cursed machine. but you nearly collided with a body that stood there and stumbled back in surprise. afore you was a guy with vibrant red hair and a smile that was evenly radiant. striking blue eyes gazed at you, and you momentarily forgot about your previous endeavors.

that guy was handsome.

"i'm sorry, i didn't see you," you brought out. "excuse me."

before you could get caught staring, you ambled away, but his voice calling out stopped you from moving any further.

"you wanted that stuffed toy, right?" the guy asked, his index finger pointing at the plushie you so desired.

"mhm," you nodded. "i just suck at... this." you vaguely motioned towards the clawing machine, smiling awkwardly.

"gimme a moment," the red-haired spoke, reaching into the left front pocket of his jeans and whipping out a coin. he tossed it up, flipping it mid-air before catching it again and popping it into the slot in one swift motion. he offered you an easy smile before he turned his back towards you.

the machine came to life again, emitting beeping sounds and lights flickering enthusiastically. you watched in awe as he confidently moved the claw towards the right position, and you realized what was going on. this dashingly handsome but unfamiliar guy was trying to win you the plushie you wanted so badly? you blinked. things like this didn't happen in real life, did they? then, why was it happening to you right now?

"alright, let's go," the guy hummed, before the palm of his hand met with the button. a buzzing sound followed, and the claw dipped deeper and deeper until it grabbed the plush.

together, you held your breaths as you gazed at the plushie's journey. the machine dragged it up and up, and with each stutter and hiccub, you feared that it would fall down – like it did when you wasted countless attempts. but it didn't, and it moved to the left until the stuffed toy dangled right above the square deposit. the claws opened, dropping the toy right where you wanted it.

victorious music came from the machine, and the handsome stranger bent down to retrieve it. he got back up, and when he was about to hand it to you, he seemed to think of something and retreated his hand.

"as a thank you, i think you should name it after me, hm?" he smiled cheekily, and it was such a contagious smile that the corners of your lips also curled up.

"that's fair," you agreed. "then, what should i name it?"

"the name is luka," the red-haired guy, now known as luka, introduced himself. he finally handed you the plushie, and you were quick to hug it against your chest.

"thank you so much, luka," you grinned widely. "you have no idea how much i wanted this one."

"oh, believe me, it was kinda obvious," luka laughed. "that's why i was like, okay, alright, i see a cutie and– oops."

he quickly slammed a hand over his mouth, but you had heard him clearly. for the second time in such a short time, you gazed at him in awe, and he looked back awkwardly.

"t-thanks," you uttered.

"w-what's your name?" he asked. "i don't think i asked."

"i'm y/n," you told him. "thanks again for the plushie, i'm–" you didn't know what else to say, so in order to emphasize your words, you rubbed your cheeks against the soft fabric lovingly. "i think the name luka suits it really well."

"well, y/n," luka began, scratching the back of his head in a cute, awkward manner. "if you want, you can return the favor by meeting me here again tomorrow? maybe we can play some games here together and–"

your gaze lit up at his words, and the shift in your expression allowed relief to ghost over luka's face. your answer was clear before you had spoken, and the red-haired guy smiled brightly.

"great, meet me here at seven pm?" he asked, and you nodded happily. now, you were really looking forward to that.

not only was this guy strikingly handsome, but he also was a sweetheart, judging from the way he stepped in and won you the plushie you failed to obtain by yourself. and now he kind of asked you out? it made your heartbeat pick up in joy, and you couldn't help the massive smile that almost split your cheeks.

you thanked him another time, and again, and again, until he jokingly shut you up by putting his index finger against your lips. after that, you bid your goodbyes – or rather, you parted ways with a see you tomorrow. on your way home, you were afloat in dreamland, because aeons, that guy stole your heart instantly.

maybe it was your lucky day, after all.

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Every Lifetime - Part 2

Astarion x Y/N - drabble - 1.1K WC

Masterlist

Warnings: emo Astarion, guilt, mostly fluff tbh

When Withers told Astarion he could bring anyone back. His mind flit to you immediately. The thought of you coming back. He felt a sliver of hope, something he hadn’t felt in ages. 

“She died… 130 years ago…” Astarion mumbled, afraid the animated skeleton would turn him down.

“Thou must have the proper payment…” Withers spoke. 

Astarion fumbled, shoving coins into the boney hand. “I strike thy name from the archives… rise…” Withers spoke, moving his arms while saying the incantation.

A shimmery blue outline of a body appeared, you slowly came into focus. There you were. You felt confused. Like you had just woken up from a deep sleep. Your eyes slowly adjusted, focusing on the pale elf in front of you. Astarion? Arms encircled you in a crushing grasp, crumbling to the ground. You noticed strangers watching you, all looking at you two with faces of confusion. You slowly brought your arms around his waist. This felt so unreal. Astarion kissed your neck and face before landing on your lips. You kissed him slow and deep. You never wanted him to slip away from you, not even for a moment. Leaning your foreheads together you both sat there a moment. Fresh tears coating each of you faces.

“How?” You asked with a stuttered breath.

“In every lifetime. Always.” He kissed your cheeks, you smiled loosely. 

“Do you want to try standing up?” Astarion whispered, holding the undersides of your arms, ready to pull you up with him. You nodded. You were wobbly, every part of you cracked and stretched deliciously. You gave a tiny wave to those around you who were still watching. Astarion ignored them, finding time later to explain what just happened sounded like a better idea than trying to do it now. Astarion gently led you over to his tent, sitting you gently on his bedroll, he sat in front of you. You admired one another in a comfortable silence. You let your hand reach out for him, your fingers caressing his cheek. He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes and kissing your palm at the action. 

“What do we do now?” You asked, a hint of apprehension in your voice. You’d been in the ground a long time, the fear of re-entering society seemed daunting. 

“I suppose we… carry on?” Astarion laughed slightly at the end, it sounded so simple but he knew the challenges ahead. 

You held his hands, smoothing your fingers over the backs of them. “Can’t believe you brought me back.” You smiled up at him briefly.

Astarion’s smile faltered, “Why’s that?”

“I just thought… maybe you’d... Forgotten about me? Found a new love, a new life. I wouldn’t blame you if you had, you know that right?” You didn’t want to be dreary but the thoughts weighed you down slightly. Astarion’s happiness is all that mattered to you, even if you weren’t a part of it anymore. 

Astarion shook his head roughly, “You’re my only love, my only life. My position is by your side no matter what. No matter where.” 

You kissed him again, skidding the shoulders of your shirt down so your chest was revealed. You had waited so long to have him again, and judging by his reaction, he was just as eager. He pulled you close, grabbing at your exposed flesh. He worshiped every part of you that night. As you did him. Centuries had passed and he still knew your body like it was his own. You found pleasure and love in one another endlessly that night. 

When you awoke, you found Astarion gazing at you, running his fingers deftly over your face. “Hello little love.” he whispered, kissing you. 

“Ya know… I never thought we’d get to do that again.” you blushed a bit pulling the blanket closer to your chest. 

“Alas, I never gave up hope of getting to enjoy all of this again.” he said in a flirtatious tone. 

Astarions smile faded when he ran his thumb over your neck. Moving your hair he saw the scar of two puncture wounds. Even in resurrecting you, it could not destroy the evidence of your cause of death. Astarion felt sick about it. He remembered the taste of you. He could taste your fear, and worst of all, he liked it. It drove him to the brink of insanity, it wracked him with guilt. 

You took his hand in yours, kissing his fingertips. “It wasn’t your fault.” you whispered. 

“Doesn’t make it haunt me any less.” he pulled you into his chest, trying to radiate his apology somehow. You could see how horrible he felt and it broke your heart. You kissed him softly, pecking his lips over and over again before he relented and kissed you back. He threw your leg over his hip, pulling you closer. 

“It was never, and will never, be your fault. The past is gone. When you open your eyes, the world will be a better place.” You whispered to him while you thumbed over his cheek bones, kissing the tip of his nose before he opened his eyes.

You’d always know how to talk to him, ever since you were children. Nobody had a way with him quite like you did. He smiled at you softly, how was everything always so easy with you? You’d been gone for so long and yet, it felt like you had never left. You picked up right where you left off. He adored that about you; he adored everything about you. 

He kissed your shoulder, “Come.” He said as he got up, finding his clothes. You did as instructed, trying to think of where he’d take you. He led you through the city until you reached where the mountains met the beach. You followed him inside a cave and found a cottage. No sun shone here, you could see rays of light peeking in from the cave mouth but that was it. The sun was never out of reach here. “Our house, unfortunately, is long gone… so…. Maybe this can be our new home? Close to the water for you, in the shadows for me. A pleasant compromise I think.” 

“How did you even find this?” You asked, walking around the outside of the cottage. Sea shells adorned it in random locations, almost as if it had been submerged once upon a time. 

“Cazador had very deep pockets that I’m now privy to. Nothing is out of our reach darling.” He winked at you slyly. 

You rolled your eyes, chuckling at him. He pulled you inside gently. It was quaint and simple, everything you could want or need. Not too extravagant which surprised you. Astarion always did have expensive tastes. But for you he settled with things you would both like. You wrapped your arms around his waist, leaning against the kitchen counter, “How did I get so lucky?” 

Astarion didn’t reply, he simply smiled before pulling you into a deep kiss. “Stay with me?” He whispered on your lips.

“In every lifetime…” you promised. 

“Always.” He kissed you as the word floated out of him, elated to have everything he’d ever wanted.

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

Naboo's Note:

Hello darlings! Here is part two as promised, I hope you all enjoy. I go back to work this week and am still recovering from surgery so it might be a little dry during the week but I am hoping to post one more fic today to keep everyone tied over. Thank you for all the likes, comments, reblogs, and requests! Ilysm xoxoxoxo!!!

[pauking5]

Addicting Taste Chapter 5

Pairing: Enishi Yukishiro x reader oc

Genre: strangers to lovers, sunshine and sunshine protector, comedic relief, slow burn, a lot of fluff, smut (in premiere)

Word count: 8.9k+

A/N: This chapter was a ride. Parts of it were sitting in my drafts for the past few weeks and I'm happy that it's finally out. Breaking Up With Jesus by Reve is to blame for the way I wrote the smut. Hope the spice is to your liking since it's my first time writing it ;) Enjoy lovelies, Paula.

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Dumplings. Oh, how delicious and soft they all look. Dozens upon dozens laid out ahead, waiting for you to dig in. You reached out for one and another one, and kept going until all you could feel on your tongue was their sweet taste. This was heaven.

As you were sitting on the ground chewing away multiple dumplings at once something caught your eyes. On the right, sitting on top of a pillar, sat a dumpling bigger than the palm of your hand. It looked so plump and you bet your last coin that it tasted delicious. Getting up from the ground you went over to try and grab it but each time you jumped after it the pillar rose higher.

“I’m gonna have you and you will taste amazing," you say struggling to reach for the dumpling.

Putting more force into it you jumped and you got the dumpling off the pillar, floating back down to the ground. This was it. The moment you’ve been waiting for. You lifted the delicacy to your mouth and placed your lips on it to taste it when…

The sound of what appeared to be a pot and a pan hit together woke you up from your dream. You rolled in bed trying to cover your ears with the duvet to stop any more of the noise coming in.

“WHO THE FUCK-“

“It’s time for training,” said a rather enthusiastic Enishi, putting the pots away moving to stand in front of your bed. You opened your eyes to look at him, staring daggers at him violently. No one had the privilege to wake you from your precious dreams. Not even the heavens above.

“Get. the. fuck. out. of. my. room.”

“Someone’s cranky," he said, signature smirk sitting proudly on his face.

Well of course you were cranky. You couldn't sleep after the whole encounter in his office. You made a pact with the devil without thinking it through and it came to bite you in the ass. When you got back to your room you sat on your bed trying to think of a plan of attack and you came up with nothing. You practiced a few basic moves you normally used to get them under control, staying up until the early hours of dawn. So it was no surprise that you were currently annoyed at him for waking you up so early in an idiotic way at that.

“Enishi, I swear to god—“

You didn’t get to finish because he leaned down and took your pillow from under your head in one swift move. The movement made your head fuzzy, letting it fall flat on the bed. He got up just as quickly and ran out of the room with your pillow under his arm.

“I’M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU,” you said as you got up and ran out after him.

You ran around the mansion hallways, closing in on the kitchen area. Stopping on opposite sides of the kitchen island you tried to block off his escape routes. Taking one quick left to fool you into reaching for him only to switch to the right, he successfully avoided your arms. Puffing out your chest in annoyance you took off after him again, following him to his office this time. He stopped in the middle of the room with nowhere to run, shifting to hold your pillow high so you wouldn't be able to reach it. You looked like a cat as you tried your hardest to jump after it.

Focusing too hard on getting back your precious pillow you jumped too high and lost your balance as you came back down. Before you could fall to the floor, strong arms wrapped around you, keeping you steady. Looking up, you saw Enishi’s face mere inches away from yours.

“You’ve got no space awareness at all do you?” he asked, a grin taking over his face. You really weren't in the mood for his antics today.

“Go fuck yourself," you say as you pushed him away. You made your way to the door and stopped when he called your name.

“You forgot your pillow—“ you cut him off whacking him over the head with it, storming back to your room. You had to get ready for the fight of your life.

—————————————————————————

This was it. The moment you would find out if the past weeks of training paid off or not. Nerves were taking over with every step you took. It wasn't too late to turn back and lock yourself in the comfort of your room. But you needed this. You needed to see if there was a chance for you to become the best without bringing her back.

Pushing open the doors to the terrace you stopped on the doorstep. Enishi was already there, stretching his arms, blue kimono resting on the back of a chair. Your hands got stuck on the doors as you thought it through again. You weren't ready, getting cold feet in the worst way possible.

Ah fuck. I can't do this.

Before you could turn around in defeat, a pair of eyes fixed on you. He picked up on your nerves from a mile away and flashed you a soft smile in hopes it would help. He knew this was a lot in such a short time, but he believed in you. He wanted you to get better and if you didn't do well today it wasn't that much of a big deal. You could always try again tomorrow.

His smile felt encouraging, giving you some hope that you could do something productive today. Taking a few deep breaths to slow down your accelerating heartbeat, you stepped away from the threshold of the cooking area, making your way to the middle of the garden. Reaching a few feet away from him you stretched your limbs, mind darting over the moves you practiced. Once you were done you straightened your back and took your place.

I didn't train so hard for nothing. I can do this. Let's beat his ass.

Enishi sensed an energy shift around you. You were ready to go, hands standing on the defensive, body angled for attack. He thought you changed so much in the last few weeks. When he met you that night at the precinct, you looked determined to skewer anyone who crossed you in the slightest. But there was this part of you that was afraid. Getting to know about your past made him understand why. You needed to get out of your head which is why he trained you this way. It only took a small push from his part to make you come out of your shell and he felt proud of what you accomplished so far.

He was proud of you.

Getting into a fighting stance of his own he watched as you started circling him. Your eyes narrowed in on him, preparing to read his moves. Just like he taught you.

"I won't go easy on you."

"I don't expect you to," you said and with that you launched yourself at him.

Lean muscles seared with force as your fist collided with his palm, slightly throwing him off balance. So your strength did get better. Latching his palm on your wrist he pulled you to him, pushing you down to the floor with his other hand. You landed on your hands and quickly hauled yourself back up.

"Your aim improved, but it's still not the best," he said as he charged at you. You ducked just in time, sneaking behind him to land a kick to his side. He reacted fast and turned, catching your leg just before it could hit him. He yanked on it getting you closer to him. You gripped his sturdy shoulders to balance yourself on your other leg.

"Hitting from the back is low, even for you," he said, fingers stroking your leg trying to throw you off balance. Little fucker.

"I wasn't planning on being civil today."

Pulling yourself up using his shoulders, you pushed off the ground and threw your other leg around his torso hanging to him like a koala. Twisting your body around his middle, you used all your force and tugged on your legs to pull him down as your hands reached for the ground. Your move caught him off guard and he almost hit the ground beside you if it wasn't for his annoying amount of balance. He turned his fall into a spin in the air landing in kneeling position, smirking at you. You threw your head back in frustration.

He's reading me too well. I have to change the strategy.

This time you let him come at you. His punches rained from all sides, moving relentlessly to land a blow on you, but you were just too fast for him. You noticed that he put a lot of strength into minimal movement and you used that to your advantage. Your small form proved to be a huge help as you darted around his robust body. He was getting frustrated with your tactic and you were enjoying every bit of it.

"Stop defending and attack!"

"Someone's getting impatient," you smirked. He was getting tired of swinging and that was exactly what you wanted.

He was going a little easy on you but his patience wore thin. He gave you the benefit of the doubt as he thought you were unprepared to take on him but you proved him wrong, pushing his buttons in the process.

Fast punches came your way and you caught every single one of them. The adrenaline that coursed through your body gave you inhuman strength as you pushed him backwards, making him stumble. You matched his pace and turned his own moves on him.

While your ego was filling up, his was slowly cracking. He came at you again, arms tightly clamping down on yours, throwing you off balance. You tried your hardest to get out of his hold but his grip wouldn't budge in the slightest. Locking them even tighter, he swung your arms and sent you flying to the other side of the garden. You landed on your shoulder, pain shooting down your arm. You got too cocky and it backfired on you.

Groaning to yourself, you got back up and rolled your shoulder backwards, wincing at the discomfort. You weren't going to back down, not when when you got this far.

Your marched back to him, slow steps turning into a full sprint. Jumping high enough, you brought your leg down into a kick, which he ducked. You dipped every time he tried to lay his hands on you, delivering a few quick punches to his abdomen that he failed to avoid.

You caught him by surprise as you ducked and swiped your leg behind his to throw him off his feet. Finally, he landed on his back accepting defeat, but not without latching a hand on your arm, tugging you down with him. Your body fell on top of his, arms securely wrapping around you. The feeling of his chest pressed flush to yours made your stomach flutter. You tried to steady your breathing that only picked up the more you gazed into his eyes.

"You did it," he exhaled. A smile took over his features as he looked at you.

"I did it," you said with a giggle as you laid your hand came to rest on top of his chest. His hand that was resting on your lower back trailed up to lightly grip your shoulder, causing you to wince. You suddenly remembered you were in pain. Worry flashed in his eyes as he checked you over, sitting you up.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," you tried to convince him but the frown on your face told him otherwise.

"Let me have a look."

"I said I'm fine- OUCH!" you cried as he touched your shoulder again and you flinched away in pain.

"Stop being so stubborn." He leaned over and took your arm in his, turning it around slowly to avoid causing you more pain. "It looks dislocated."

"What do you mean dislocated?" The adrenaline in your body started to wear off and the throbbing in your shoulder intensified, making you unable to hide it anymore.

"I can put it back, but it's going to hurt. Ready?" Your eyes snapped at him.

"You mean now? Hell no-" he pushed your shoulder back into place using your rambling as a distraction. You cried in pain holding onto it, forehead falling to rest on his shoulder.

"I hate you," you groaned, mumbling into his chest.

"I know you do," he chuckled, rubbing away at your shoulder to try and help with the pain.

"Is this a good moment to tell you we're going on your first mission?" You lifted your head, face beaming with excitement.

"You're joking."

"I'm dead serious. I think you're ready," he said as he got up and gave you a helping hand, gently pulling you to your feet. "I know you probably have a lot of questions, but I think it's best you go get some rest first."

“Okay. I'll swing by later," you said walking towards the kitchen.

"Put some ice on it," he shouted from behind you and you shot him a thumbs up with your good arm.

—————————————————————————

You tried to take a quick nap. Keyword: tried. No matter how hard you tried to sleep you couldn’t contain your excitement. It felt surreal that you were back in business so soon. My first mission here.

Deciding that it was no use to spend more time in bed, you got up and walked to the vanity table. You pulled out your pistols from the top drawer and ran your fingers on the golden rose crests that decorated the frame. They needed a little dusting off and tinkering, but they looked ready for some action. It’s been a while since I put these bad boys to good use.

The golden light filtering in through the window told you the sun was setting. You figured now was as good of a time to go over the plan with Enishi. You made your way to his office, stretching your shoulders to get rid of the previous strain from your combat session.

You thought back to the fight. As much as you improved, you felt like he did manage you a little, at least in some parts. Even if he did, he wouldn't admit it out loud if he wanted to keep his balls in the same place they are now. Anyhow, you were glad you got the opportunity to kick him off his high horse a tiny bit. He could be all "I am the god of martial arts" sometimes, but he knew when to tone it down.

You remembered the proud look on his face as he pulled you to the ground with him was enough to add ten years to your lifespan. There was something about it that made you feel confident in yourself and maybe that was what he wanted to accomplish. He seemed to have this empowering complex, always talking you out of your head when you needed it the most. It was like he knew what made you lock up and what made you open in such a short time and it kind of terrified you. He met the broken version of you all those years ago and now he knows the real you to a certain degree.

But you met him too. The present, real him. The Enishi that doesn't stray away from his goals, who does everything in his power to help people. You didn't want to admit it but he grew on you, latching onto you like a string of hearts. They are plants that need moderate care, often wallowing in sadness when they don't get enough sunlight or water. But looking at them makes you feel hope and warmth. As cold as the veins in their leaves appear to be, the green surrounding them embraces it in the shape of a heart. As weak as its stems look, they try their hardest to hold the hearts up so people can admire them and feel at peace. Enishi is like that too. You connected like the strings of the plant and you didn't want to untangle yourself from him just yet.

Your train of thought was cut short as you came to a halt in front of his office. Knocking on the door he beckoned you in. He was sat at his desk looking over maps and plans. The sleeves of his kimono were rolled up to his elbows, allowing you to see his arms, veins popping and twisting the more he moved his hand around. He looked deep in thought as his eyes were casted down on on the papers in his hands.

"How's your shoulder?" he asked without looking up from his work.

"Better. Thank you." You moved to stand next to him. "So... what's the plan for the mission?"

"There's a mafia playing at a casino in the city tomorrow night. They're called the Dao," he said as he pointed to a few wanted posters laying on the desk. "They're carrying the shipment we... failed to steal a few weeks ago," he continued.

Wait. The shipment I saw them loading off the docks that night?

"The plan is to go in and keep them distracted while the others load the goods onto our carriages. Once they're done we can leave quietly like we weren't even there in the first place." You nodded at all the information you were receiving, but you were failing to see what your role was supposed to be in this plan.

"So what do you want me to do?"

"You'll be inside with me. We're going to buy our way in to the usual poker game they host privately and play them a little."

"That's great actually."

"And why is that?" he prodded, eyebrow lifting in confusion at your sudden excitement.

"I'm great at poker," you confidently stated. He nearly laughed at you if it wasn't for the way you narrowed your eyes at him in a death stare.

"I guess we'll have to see if you are tomorrow."

—————————————————————————

Tomorrow couldn't come fast enough, finding you in a bit of a situation. You had no idea what to wear. The duffel bag you carried was basically your only wardrobe and your outfit choices were limited. Another issue was that you were going to a casino, which called for a little class and finesse.

After wafting through every outfit combination that was sprawled on your bed, you set on a shirt with a corset on top and a skirt matching your red corset. There was just a problem though. You needed help lacing up your corset. In the process of rethinking your outfit for the hundredth time, a soft knock echoed on the door.

“Come in.”

“I came to see if you’re ready,” he said, eyes going wide when he saw you. Your hair was made in an updo, long strands of hair cascading down your shoulders. The cotton shirt showed off your collar bones, while the velvet corset pushed your chest upwards, showing the tiniest sliver of cleavage but not too over-the top. It matched the ruby skirt that fell just a few inches above your knees. He thought you looked breathtaking.

“You have perfect timing. Could you help me lace up this thing?”

“I.. Yeah, sure," he breathed out.

He walked to your spot in front of the mirror and stopped behind you. Fixing your gaze through the mirror, you watched as he picked up the corset strings wrapping them around his slender fingers. He pulled on them until the corset looked tight enough on you but you motioned him to pull it tighter. He laced the rest of the strings up in a bow and smoothed a hand on the crisscross pattern, icy hand coming in contact with your warm back as you dragged in a shaky breath.

“You’re going like this?”

“I don’t really have anything else to wear.”

“Make sure you put a coat on.”

“But it’s a casino. I’m supposed to show off these goodies," you gestured to your chest as he tried his hardest to avert his eyes to somewhere else.

“Coat on or you’re staying here," he said and walked away, leaving you dumbfounded. What has gotten into him now?

The truth was that he thought you were showing a little too much. Once he was out of your room, he leaned on the wall besides the door and released a breath. You looked absolutely beautiful. But that was a sight he wanted to reserve for himself. You weren’t his. But he was damned if he would let anyone else see you like this tonight.

—————————————————————————

The carriage halted and Enishi stepped out first, holding a hand to you. He wore a white shirt under a blue qipao, intricate patterns reflecting in the dim light of the night. You took his hand and he helped you down from the carriage, fingers lingering on yours for a few moments before he let go.

"Is everyone in their places?" he asked Wu, who was driving your carriage. He nodded and left, hiding the carriage in the woods nearby.

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

The casino was on the outskirts of Shanghai, which made escaping a possible mafia war easier. The outside of the building looked like a normal warehouse, but the inside was far from it. Carpeted floors in red and gold greeted you as you walked in, paving the way to the main area filled with sitting booths. A reception bar sat at the far end of the entrance, buzzing with customers. To the right was a corridor that was guarded by armed men. That must be the way to the poker rooms.

You made your way to the bar ordering a drink for you and Enishi, scouting the premises. How are we supposed to get in there without getting broken in half like a toothpick?

Your question was answered as a woman approached Enishi and beckoned him to follow her to the corner. Her blonde hair fell behind her back as she leaned her hand up on the wall, putting all her goodies on sight for him. He replicated her flirty gazes as he trailed a hand up her exposed arm.

Her black corset was laced tightly around her body, pushing her bulky breasts together. You looked down at your own, a little disappointed that you lacked in that area. The high slit on her purple skirt showed off her legs. She wore the tallest heels you've ever seen.

She looked so much more feminine than you and it made your confidence falter slightly. You didn't really care about looks before so why did it affect you so much right now?

You felt really self-conscious ever since you met Enishi. The loose clothes you used to lounge around in changed to tighter fitting clothes. They were better for training, that's what you told yourself. You fixed the bird's nest in your hair more frequently, braiding or putting it up in sophisticated styles. It made training easier, you told yourself again and again.

"Any chance you could get us in there?" you heard him ask the woman as she twirled her hair around her fingers.

"Depends on what you're willing to do for it," she said leaning further on the wall, flaunting her cleavage at him. Can she choke or something?

It wasn't strange that she found him attractive. Enishi was eye candy, holding himself like the gods sculpted him. Who wouldn't want to get a chance to explore the defined physique under his clothes?

He pulled out a handful of money bonded together and handed it to her discreetly. She took the money with a disappointed huff and went on her way to the men on guard. She whispered something to one of them and motioned you to follow her. Leading you down the long corridor she stopped showing you a door with the number 7 crested in golden. Well that was so hard.

After she left, Enishi turned to you seeing you look rather displeased.

"What?"

"Nothing." You leaned a hand on the wall and copied blondie's earlier position, hand on your hip as you batted your eyelashes at him. "Depends on what you're willing to do for it," you say mimicking her annoying voice. He couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him.

"Why are you laughing?"

"It looks like someone is jealous."

"Who? ME?! No. Not me. She can have you for all I care."

"Is that so?"

You nodded determined to show him you weren't affected in any way by the flirty exchange that took place earlier. Sparing you one more look he turned towards the door.

"Let's get this show rolling."

——————————————

The smell of opium hit you like a train, smoke hanging briskly in the confined air of the room. In the middle at a round table sat three men playing poker. You recognised them from the posters on Enishi's desk. The one in the middle was the boss of the Daos, the other two were his henchmen. Armed men sat behind them and around the room, busying themselves with their drinks.

There were no cards on the table yet which meant they just started the game. The dealer was a woman dressed just like the one you encountered at the bar. She looked scared as she mixed the cards, probably because she was here against her will. All heads turned to you as you walked in and sat down in the empty seat at the table.

"This is a private game," said a gruff voice from your right, belonging to the boss.

"This seat is empty, isn't it?" you asked, taking your coat off.

"What does a girl like you know about poker?" the one on your left asked after looking at you, licking his lips of the narcotics he smoked.

"You'd be surprised. Deal me in," you said confidently, hand held out for Enishi to hand you some money. He hesitated at first, but after seeing the determination on your face he sighed and dropped five thick stacks in your hand.

You shot the woman dealing the cards a look. She looked at the boss for approval and he nodded. A curious glint in his eyes told you he was curious about you and how far you could go. He had nothing to lose, especially with the amount of money sitting by your hands.

You quickly figured that the boss was the strongest player. His only flaw was that he bet everything knowing that his men would never go against him. He deemed you a weak player in the first dealings, but that was only because you were holding back on raising your bets on purpose, playing the weak damsel act to buy you some time.

Once you got your fourth card, you dealt all your money in, raising the bet double the amount. You smirked looking at the four cards in your hand, red hearts smiling back at you. A ten of hearts, a jack, a king and an ace. All you needed was a queen and you could play your hand in a royal flush, the highest card combination in the game.

"What's got you so happy, sweetheart?" asked the boss, confused at the smile pulling at your mouth.

"You'll see," you mumbled to yourself as you got your fifth card, completing your hand.

The dealer called the hands and the man on your right went first, placing his cards on the table. He had a lucky three of a kind as he turned to smirk at you. The other man in front of you showed his, grinning as he got a better hand than the other one, a strong full house thrown on the table. These guys were strong players despite having to yield in to their boss.

The boss took a long drag of smoke and smiled creepily at you. He placed down his cards, a straight flush of spades sitting idly on the table. He started reaching for the money in the middle before you cut him off with a look.

Enishi sat behind you, mouth slightly agape, until he took a look at your cards. "You're joking," you heard him mumble before you placed down your cards, a sheer of gasps erupting around the room.

"A ROYAL FLUSH?!" yelled the boss, the men sitting around the table just as surprised. You chuckled and turned to Enishi, a proud smirk taking over his features. You went all in and won against one of the most ruthless mafias in the country. He felt a little embarrassed for second guessing you without seeing you play.

You were about to reach for the earnings on the table as a man stumbled in the room.

"The shipment! It's gone," he said as he approached the boss. The earlier shock on his face was replaced by anger as he stood up to strangle the man, lifting him off the ground.

Enishi tapped on your shoulder, eyes motioning you towards the door. You had to get out of here now, whilst all the attention was on the man being choked. You made quick work of putting your coat on and got up quietly, reaching for the money in the middle of the table, before Enishi stopped you shaking his head. But I won them fair and square, you said with a look. We have to get out of here now, he pressed.

"How did this happen?" yelled the boss shaking the life out of the man. He pointed a trembling finger at you just as you were about to walk out of the door.

"Hold it right there," said the boss cocking his gun at you.

"This was an amazing game," you said with a hand on the door handle. "By the way, YOU SUCK," you yelled as Enishi pulled you down the corridor.

"Did you really have to?"

"The look on his face was priceless," you giggled. You came to a halt in the main area as everyone turned to look at you. The shouts of the boss were heard down the hall as the whole gang closed in on you.

"Don't let them get away."

There were about twenty armed men circling around you and there was only two of you, the only one actually armed being you. You reached for the pistols in the garter under your skirt, sitting back to back with Enishi.

We are so royally fucked.

—————————————

Guns were fired your way and you dodged them, shooting your pistols relentlessly. You managed to reduce the gang members to a half, while Enishi took to breaking limbs left and right.

You were shooting your gun at a taller guy when the clicks on your pistols locked and you realised you were out of ammo. He went to tackle you but you ducked before he could lay hands on you, going for a sweep, knocking his feet from under him. Another one got hold of your coat and you spun around taking it off your shoulders, using your arms to twist it in the man's hold. You pulled on it making him fall forward and you kicked him, projecting him into the bar island. Your coat ripped down the middle from the force. My only coat, gone. You served me well.

The guy got up from the floor and started throwing the glasses sitting on top of the bar at you. You barely dodged a cocktail glass aimed at your head, catching it mid-air. You sniffed the clear liquid recognising it to be vodka and you downed it in one go, throwing the glass behind you.

"That would've been a waste of good liquor." He sneered as he charged at you and you ran behind the bar taking hold of a beer bottle. When he got close you smashed it on his head rendering him unconscious.

Fire was opened again, this time towards you and you sunk to the floor taking cover behind the bar. Enishi joined you from the other side, reeling in next to you.

"What now?"

"We wait until they run out of bullets."

As if on cue the gunfire halted and you got up from your spots taking on the remaining members. Enishi slid over the bar landing a kick to someone's face mid-air. You took hold of a broom and used it like the bo staff you trained with.

Swaying the wooden stick around you cleared the path for him. Two goons jumped at you, trying to take your weapon. You were busy holding one of them off trying to shake his hands off the broom and failed to notice the chair heading straight to you.

"Miyu, watch out!" You turned just before it smashed into your back and dodged out of the way, letting the chair fall straight into the guy you were fighting off, both of them knocking into each other.

Enishi was fighting another pair. One of them pulled out a knife and tried to stab him. You intercepted the sneaky attack and caught his hand, kicking the knife away before yanking him towards your fist. He punched the other one and they both fell to the floor in sync.

You looked around at the mess you caused, trying to get your breath under control. The boss was nowhere to be found and you assumed he scurried off somewhere with the tail between his legs.

Spotting it among the pile of bodies, you went and picked up the shreds of your coat from the floor, smoothing a hand over it. Enishi took off his qipao and put it on your shoulders heading to the exit, without saying anything.

—————————————————————————

He didn’t speak a word on the way back. The only gestures he made were to direct Wu to take you back to the mansion. He didn't even look at you when you asked him about the mission. All he did was sit in complete silence, eyes closed in meditation, jaw clenched in irritation.

You went over everything that happened back at the casino. The blonde flirting with him, the poker game, the fight. Nothing stood out enough to be a problem and you certainly didn't do anything wrong, besides taunting and stealing off a mafia boss. Regardless, his silence was driving you crazy to say the least.

Why do I even care? I went and did my job and we finally got the weapons. What could possibly make him this mad?

You were snapped out of your thoughts as the carriage came to a halt in front of the mansion. Enishi quickly got off without sparing you a look, leaving the door open for you to get out yourself.

Wow. Fucking diva.

You stepped down from the carriage with the help of Wu and took off after him. You were determined to find out what made him this mad. His steps were fast like he wanted to get away from you but you weren't going to give him the satisfaction. You weren’t going to let him push you away again. He opened the door to his room and before he could close it shut you sneaked in.

He stopped in the middle of the dimly lit room, shoulders rolled in annoyance. You took in his room from your place by the door. His room seemed to be a mirror of yours, the only difference being that his was as dark as room décor could get. The cool light of the night washed the room in an even darker shade, currently reflecting its owners mood.

“Why are you here?”

“I want to know why you’re mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you.”

“Cut the bullshit, Enishi. You haven’t said one word on the way back. Did I do something wrong?”

With a sigh he turned around to face you. His eyes were visible to you even in the heavy darkness. They seemed to drink you in with greed, debating on whether he should say something or keep the thoughts raging in his head quiet. He settled on the former, the adrenaline of the fight still pumping through his veins. If he didn't say anything now he knew he would regret it forever.

“You didn’t respect the plan,” he said taking a step towards you. “We were supposed to go in and get out,” another step, “not provoke a fight,” he stopped in front of you.

“Fuck the plan! We had them right in the palm of our hand. We got what we wanted, right? What else matters?”

“You! You matter,” he growled as he closed the distance between you, pinning you to the door. “You… drive me up the fucking wall,” he said as he settled both of his arms on either side of you.

“What?” you mumbled under your breath.

“I can’t take it anymore,” he exhaled and the next thing he did caught you by surprise. Warm lips landed on yours, moving with burning desire against your clueless ones. Your eyes widened in surprise and you froze, leaning a hand on the wall behind to keep you steady.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for so long,” he said as he pulled apart just enough for you to get a breath in, before he leaned in again, this time with much more hunger.

It was like your body caught on fire. You didn’t know what you were supposed to do so for the time being you settled on kissing him back. His hands moved from beside you to card through your hair, the other moving to sit at the base of your neck, pushing your face impossibly closer to his. His breaths were running wild across your skin as he moved down to your neck. Every kiss leaving his mouth was tightly sawn into your skin making your breaths heavier.

You craved and were afraid of his touch at the same time. Enishi could be both gentle and rough and you had no idea which one was sitting before you right now. Your mind was in constant tug of war between restraint and giving in to him. He didn’t let you wallow in your thoughts too much as a butterfly kiss to your collar bone brought you back to earth. He stopped and looked at you to make sure this was something you wanted too. Tracing your eyes to his, you saw the previous hunger in his eyes turned into sincere want. That was the only confirmation you needed to know as to which Enishi was with you right now, wasting no time in capturing his lips, a little rougher than he did.

Your mouths fought for dominance, none of you wanting to give in and submit to the other. The way his fingers worked to undo the corset he tied up for you just a few hours ago turned you on and you couldn’t wait anymore.

“Rip it off,” you whined.

“After I struggled so hard to tie it up—“

“Enishi, I don’t give two flying fucks. Rip it to fucking shreds.”

“Someone’s getting impatient,” he chuckled. Seeing you so worked up amused him. He didn’t want to make you wait any longer so he untangled his fingers from the strings and in one brisk move he pulled apart your corset, breaking it in two together with the white shirt underneath. The poor pieces of fabric fell to the floor, revealing your chest.

He revelled at the sight before him. You were exactly what he imagined in lewd fantasies at night, when his head was webbed with only thoughts of you. What set him on fire the most was that he knew you thought of him in that way too. Your eyes gave you away way too many times for him to not take notice of it. He just hid his a lot deeper so you wouldn't notice it. He failed to keep the thoughts away each time his hand found yours, or your waist, or your face.

You consumed him and you didn't even know it.

Tracing his hand down your arm made tingles dance all over your body. You couldn’t take his teasing anymore, not when you were this bare in front of him. If he's not going to move, I’ll do it myself.

With maddening frustration, you launched at his lips, capturing them wildly like they were the very essence of life. He responded to your attack with pleasure rolling off his vocal chords grunting into your mouth. Taking the opportunity, you pressed your hands on his clothed chest and ripped away at his shirt too, soft cotton turning into a mere rag as you pulled at it. Enishi was taken aback by your rawness and broke the kiss just enough to take another breath to be able to fight your mouth for his share of dominance.

He pulled you closer to get the skirt off of you just as you worked on his pants. You didn’t even notice you were already leaned back on his bed, spread wide for him to see all of you. Thoughts of every fantasy he had of you were spinning around in his head and he struggled to pick just one.

“Draw a picture it will last longer,” you say sitting up on your elbows.

“I’m gonna fuck this attitude out of you.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

The whole thing turned into another competition you both couldn’t get enough of. He wasn’t going to back down and neither were you. Most girls got shy whenever they saw this hunk of a man stand above them, ready to turn them to whimpering wrecks. But you weren’t most girls and you planned on showing him that.

He was spending too much time observing you and you were growing desperate. Deciding to take the reins, you sat up to mirror his kneeling position on the bed and laid your hands on his chest, pushing him backwards until he fell on his back. Straddling his lap, you leaned down to take in his gasps of surprise in a chaste kiss. A kiss so slow that it made his insides burn with lust.

“Miyu, stop fucking around,” he groaned between kisses.

“That’s what you were doing a minute ago,” you say smirking through the kiss. He responded by raking his hand through your scalp and gently pulling at it, drawing a moan from you.

“I love seeing you this needy for me," he said, biting down on your lip. "I haven’t even done anything to you yet and here you are, ready to pounce on me if I don’t give it to you.”

You were begging. All for someone who’s never touched you to do just that. Because you knew he would do it exactly the way you wanted.

Enishi was chaos. He was like a drug to you, a damn good one at that. Once you got a tang of it you kept wanting more. The more time you spent with him the wilder your delusions got and you realised you were addicted to his taste.

You continued the makeout session, rolling around in the bed, tongues fighting for power. You sat on his lap, skillfully pushing into him without a breath. Every time you came up for air he pulled your head back down to him. He was just as addicted to you.

“My turn,” he smirked taking your lips in his. His hands trailed down your shoulders to your chest and he held your breasts, softly squeezing them. It turned you on beyond repair and you couldn’t help the whines escaping your throat.

“What do you want me to do?” he whispered, lips stopping a few inches away, teasingly grazing yours.

“Anything,” you replied, moving your head up to catch them, failing as he moved away from you. You dropped your head on his pillows, feeling lightheaded from the anticipation. He could do whatever he wanted to you as long as he did something.

“I need words, Miyu.” The way he spoke your name made goosebumps raise on your arms. His voice alone managed to undo you.

“I want you to ruin me. Take me to God or to Satan for all I care.”

He didn’t waste any more time and took to trailing the most teasing kisses down your body, from the dip in your neck down to your navel. He savored every part of you like a priest chastising the Sunday mass. He preached your body like a prayer, prepared to sink you in the depths of his hell. He only knew sin and he was going to taint you in his darkness tonight.

His kisses got slower the closer he got to your throbbing core, the part that was aching for him the most. You couldn’t believe he was performing your wildest dreams. You made the mistake of rubbing your legs together to create some friction, wanting him to touch you already, only to have him pull your knees apart spreading you back out. He caressed your thighs, fingers running from the base of your knees all the way to your hips, missing your core by just a few inches. The waiting was driving you mad, turning you into a whining mess.

“Enishi, stop messing around.”

“I haven’t even started darling.”

Securing a hand around your torso, he dipped down to kiss your thighs the same way his hands caressed your legs. His kisses stopped just before your opening and he blew on it, making you shudder under his hold. With one more look at your face, he dove into you. He worked his skilled tongue inside your walls as you wrote your moans in his pillows, gripping the sheets tightly. The hand on your torso rubbed circles on your stomach adding to the ecstasy you were feeling. You surrendered your body to him, letting him worship you the only way he knew.

His strokes turned haste as you neared your release. You came fast and he devoured your juices like it was the nectar of the gods, leaving no drop go to waste. You were seeing stars, sweat sticking to your skin as the heat became too unbearable. The only light in the room came from the moon and as dim as it was it was blinding you, senses overwhelmed by the man at your feet. He came up to capture your lips, letting you taste yourself the way he tasted you. He wanted you to know how good you were and how much he wanted to savour you.

“Enishi…," you gripped his head and kissed him arduously. "Fuck me," you begged and that was enough to finally get him going.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” With a swift kiss he slid inside you, length stretching you out sore.

He pounded into you at the speed of light. You closed your eyes to get rid of the stars you were seeing, but he made you to look at him. He wanted watch as he broke you apart and put you back together.

“Be a good girl. You can take it.”

His praises made your body quiver as he annihilated your insides. He was a god in bed, toned body shining in the moonlight as he took you to heaven. But he was also a devil, his thrusts branding his name inside of you like a mark. The more he delved in the better the pleasure he gave you. He knew exactly how to make you feel just right and you felt a surge of energy taking over as you flipped your bodies.

"My turn," you said, wanting to make him beg for you like you begged for him. Calloused hands worked their way up your sides as you took his lips once more, sitting on top of his lap. Your hands were messing around in his hair, grabbing at it every time he bit your lip.

You chased the dips in his neck with sloppy kisses, hands digging into your sides. Your hands massaged and pulled at his hair, moans rolling off his tongues like music. Your touch felt divine, awakening his cold body like the first sunlight of spring. He wanted you to be the queen of his hell, to fall in and out of grace together.

"I need you," he grunted. He got so turned on by this savage part of you and he didn't want to admit it, but it made him so weak. He craved all of you, even if he had to swim in your ocean endlessly just to find every piece of you.

"Your wish is my command," you said, sinking down on him with a grunt, feeling him stretch you out again. Once you felt comfortable you started rolling your hips, a string of curses leaving his mouth.

You were taking your sweet time and he felt you going agonizingly slow. His hands gripped your hips to move you faster and faster until your rhythm grew frantic, leaning to support yourself by his shoulders. Your head was spinning as you felt yourself come close to your release for the second time tonight.

"Enishi," you whispered breathlessly.

"What do you need?" he asked, fingers grazing your ear softly.

"You," you say seizing his lips. Your pace picked up as your moans combined in each other's mouth. He was twitching inside you, sign he was close too.

He would do anything if he could have you on top like this all the time. He would let his pride go to shit if he could feel you like this again. To see your hair stick to your face, locks tangled over your shoulders. To have your hands grip him like he was your lifeline. To see your eyes lost in the abyss that is him as you come undone together, bodies intertwined drunk on a high, on top of his bed.

—————————————————————————

Warmth. That's what you were feeling right now. Muscular arms held you securely, gaze focused solely on you. One of his hands was stroked your hair in a gentle rhythm, head laid on his shoulder as you stared at the ceiling. A piece of your hair fell over your face and his hand moved to place it behind your ear, his husky voice breaking the comfortable silence.

"Why are your ears so small?" he asked poking fun at you, only to get kicked in the shins by your leg. "Okay, I deserved that."

You turned around and his eyes caught a glimpse of something behind your ear. A tattoo. His fingers smoothed over the skin, making out the word yume. And there he thought you couldn't surprise him more than you already did tonight. He reached for your hair to move it out of the way to get a better view at the inkwork. His eyes turned curious as he ran his hand over the mark.

"Yume," he whispers, just enough for you to sense the question on his tongue.

"It means dream. I got it done before I left Japan," you sighed.

"Why yume?"

"I didn't have any dreams for myself. I still don't. All I wanted was to find my parents and that felt like a good enough dream at the time," you said, eyes slightly tearing up at the memory of your parents.

"But as I got older it became something that drove me. I suddenly wanted to find a dream for myself just so I can give this life meaning."

Silence hung in the air again as he mulled over the information. He wanted to know more about what happened to your parents but this definitely wasn't the time to ask. You were too vulnerable right now and he didn't want to pry into your head more than you did it to yourself.

You got up from the bed, his shirt sitting snugly around you. Stretching your sore body, you headed towards his bathroom. You noticed that blue was a recurring aesthetic in the place. The finish on the sink was just like yours, the only difference being that it was dressed in dark motives. He bathroom had a shower in the corner, surrounded by black granite tiles and a glass wall.

"Any other tattoos I should know about?" You turned around to him. He had his arms behind his head, biceps flexing the more he leaned back. The duvet covered his lower part, chest fully exposed to you. You bit your lip as you looked at him.

"If you join me for a shower I might just tell you," you giggled, leaning against the frame of the bathroom door.

"You can say that again," he said as he got up from his bed and ran to you, picking you up in his arms.

"PUT ME DOWN YOU'RE SWEATY!"

"SO ARE YOU BUT YOU DONT HEAR ME YELLING ABOUT IT."

"You're so annoying," you said, linking your arms around his neck so you wouldn't fall.

"That's not what you were moaning a few hours ago, babe," he said walking towards the shower with you in his arms.

"Eww, don't call me babe."

"Sure... babe," he smirked.

"Oh, dear lord."

—————————————————————————

Next

Thank you for reading! As always, comments, notes and reblogs are welcome :)

[jackiezenauthor]

Maria's fairytale ending

Context that led to the creation of this story here

Thank you @laurasimonsdaughter for the inspiration and support.

Special thanks to my two fairy friends who endured through proofreading and editing with me, blessing us all with precious advice such as cutting off the suspension points that I so much love dropping everywhere in my writing.

Story and art by Jackie Zen (me)

Trigger warning:

people and a dragon getting very hurt at some point

no nsfw

magic and sorcery

author liberties (tried to stick to russian fairytale lore as much as possible but I'm not sure about the bird)

Maria’s fairytale ending

„This was the first completed sculpture that this artist ever made.” he explained, pointing at a crude representation of maybe a bear, maybe a pig? Maria walked around, trying to figure it out. „And the first piece of my own hoard” he said proudly. He went on explaining about the stone itself, the complicated nature of sculpting in it and how young and absolutely confused the artist was when he offered an entire silver coin for it.

She watched him over the little statue’s pedestal. He was just as handsome as the first day she’d seen him, across the fire lake conjured for her and her brother’s safety. Unlike the Bear King, this man could have easily flown over the flames on his own. She was certain now that he knew the fire was an illusion. But he hadn’t... he’d just kept showing up every time she’d walk around the banks, trying to strike up conversation from afar...

In truth, that had been the wiser choice. Aside from his dashing human looks, his true shape, and the one he could fly in, sported a rather intimidating bouquet of heads. Each overflowed with fangs and horns, each able to spit some terrifying element, from fire to what looked like acid... Her heart would have abdicated, no question, if he’d just plopped right there, on her side of the bank, from the very start.

„Am I going in too much detail?” he paused, noticing her glance.

She had indeed lost focus for a second, but that was because he’d mentioned minerals and tools that she’d never heard of before. She already had a mental note to hit his library and look them up later.

A man-sized statue with many hands framed him from behind, sculpted so skillfully that she found herself expecting it to come to life at any moment. The sculptor’s name under it was the same as for the little nondescript animal they had been looking at.

„No, just enjoying the view...” she smiled. „I knew that your kind loved collecting things, but I had no idea how much meaning each of them holds...”

„Let me know when you tire, however...” he grinned, his back just a bit straighter, reaching for her waist. „I hear that your kind is rather short on patience...”

„You’re one to talk...” she scoffed, playfully. „This would have been maybe a day’s wait, at most, if you just waited for my brother to return...” she brazenly moved her hand in his general direction.

If she were anywhere but here, it would have been seen as outrageously improper. Instead, as soon as she started acting and speaking appropriately for her upbringing and gender, he’d started fretting about her health, as if she was hallucinating thanks to some illness. She was getting used to speaking her mind clearly, as of late. Saved her from being fed all the questionably healthy concoctions he kept bringing in, and she was starting to enjoy it too. 

„I still don’t get why I’m supposed to ask anyone other than you...” he snorted, gently brushing the edge of her chin. “It’s not like I’m marrying your bother.” he rolled his eyes ever so slightly…

„Still not married...” she giggled, putting her palm between their lips, as he leaned over to steal a kiss.

He’d been growing rather impatient in the past few days. While he did put up with her human traditions, it wasn’t without grumbling. In truth, she was starting to have second thoughts about keeping up with this too. After all, even with Ivan’s blessing, what priest or church would even agree to marry her to a dragon to begin with? Would money really make a difference? Despite being the Tsar, not ever her uncle would be caught alive publicly blessing a union like theirs…

Her brother was supposed to have arrived by now, she’d even left him a note... a bit rushed, true, but still... What was he doing?

The dragon kissed the line between her fingers and her palm instead, his breath warming the little space between them, making her question all human rites and traditions, and her own sanity along with them, as their eyes inevitably met. Her heart challenged the spirits of thunder, deafening against her ears.

“You really should wear more rings…” he purred.

She found herself questioning whether that thing called ‘virtue’ was really worth keeping… it was becoming harder and harder to remember what that word even meant, lately…

A loud knock restored sovereignty to her head… not without her heart kicking and screaming about it first.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice oscillating between pleasant and annoyed.

“There is a matter requiring your attention, at the gates…” a servants voice broke through the closed doors, just as Maria slipped out of his arms, straightening her dress.

Nobody was allowed in his hoard room without explicit permission which, according to the maids, had never been given. Everyone was supposed to speak clearly too, however, which was a bigger challenge for the newest hires, of which, currently, there was just one.

“Dmitry?” he sighed, heading for the doors.

“My liege!” the soldier bowed as he stepped out.

“Speak!” he commanded. “Use all of your words!”

Dmitry dared a glance towards Maria, who was just about to reach the door as well: if this matter required him to leave the room, visiting was clearly done for today.

“It shouldn’t take long…” the dragon turned as he noticed her approach as well. “You can look around some more if you want, tell me if you have any favorites.” he smiled sweetly, trying her heart again. “Maria, my love, all that is mine, is also yours…” he added before she could argue, her name sounding magical in his voice.

“We’re not married yet…” Maria sighed, irked at how she still had no name to call him by. It was so odd, referring to him as ‘the dragon’, but it was impossible for her human throat and mouth to reproduce the sound that he declared as his name. Despite his excitement at having her choose a name herself, she just couldn’t think of any that did him justice… All the names she could think were simply… not good enough.

He grumbled something about human customs again. As far as he was concerned, the entire event had already happened, when he asked her for a bridge to reach and marry her, and she cast said bridge. He’d even brought up crossing that bridge on his own two human feet, as if the sturdiness of her magic hold somehow matched her resolve. And she had to admit, she’d never cast anything as sturdy in her life before.

For a construction cast entirely out of a towel, it not only held, but it could have easily been mistaken for something built under the Tsar’s architects. If only she could brag to anyone about it too… Other than her nanny, who had taught her the basics and was still at the Tsar’s castle, nobody cared to listen… especially not Ivan.

The dragon had been the first man in her life not needing to be babied about her magical abilities. Even with her own brother, she had to give a nearby ox a voice and make it claim to be doing all the saving and the conjuring. If he would have thought even for a second that it was her casting, he’d have just surrendered to the Bear King right away…

Ivan never saw her as anything but a dainty little sister who needed protection against the entire world. Had he not gone out to hunt every other day, she might have ended up locked in the hut in the middle of the lake for God knew how long… Every time, she’d wait until he left before unlocking her room and going out exploring, up until the dog started wagging its tail, anticipating his return… Heaven forbid, him ever catching her talking to a man, too, even with the acre of lake between them… She was grateful for the care, but it really was too much, sometimes… Maybe, now that she was marrying a dragon, he’d finally get the peace to focus on his own duties as a prince.

“There is a man at the gates.” the soldier spoke again as the dragon motioned him to. “He is rather angry about something, or someone, being stolen from him… He’s also rambling about some dog?”

Maria perked up. This had to be Ivan.

“About time!” the dragon cheered up as well! “Let him in, treat him with most care, make sure his room is cleaned again and have the cook fire up the ovens and crack open the barrels, he knows which! We’re celebrating tonight!”

“He looks rather… hostile…” the soldier said, conflicted.

“Ah, yes… I’ve left room for some misunderstandings, apparently…” the dragon laughed drily.

“Let me talk to him first…” Maria offered. “I’m sure that he’ll calm down once he knows I’m safe and well.”

“Of course, my love. I’m sure you’re eager to catch up with him too. I will apologize for the matter with the key myself, however. It had been rather unnecessary of me to do that, indeed…” he nodded, then paused for a second before turning to the guard again. “Did he bring the dog along?”

He hadn’t…

That made for one less thing to fret over as they headed for the castle yard, to greet their long-awaited guest. They started with almost a skip in their step, but it gradually wore off as the reality of the situation dawned on them… There was plenty to regret, on both ends, about how they’ve left that hut in the middle of the lake… Hopefully, Ivan would be willing to listen…

…

He wasn’t.

As they stepped outside, the atmosphere crashed hard on them. Not only was Ivan refusing all hospitality, but he kept his sword unsheathed, glaring at whomever would dare even shift their weight towards him. His expression only changed once he noticed Maria, but even then, it was short lived, as his eyes fell on the dragon.

He wasted no time before rushing him with his sword.

“I don’t think this is helping…” Maria held onto the dragon on pure instinct as he grabbed her and jumped away from Ivan’s slicing blade. “Let me go to him! He won’t harm me.”

“You go to him once his sword is sheathed and no earlier.” the dragon hissed, moving once again away from Ivan’s reach. “I have never seen a reasonable man behave this way, and I will not risk your life like that.”

The guards moved to block her brother, but he shook them off easily: he was a skilled swordsman, after all. It did give the dragon time to shift, however, and carry her to what he considered safety, which, in typical dragon fashion, was a tower… all the way in the southern garden.

“Throw this at him!” she handed him her handkerchief as he went to face her brother once more. She had no time to explain what it would do. A cry of pain let them know that Ivan had started hurting the people in his way, and the dragon took off in a rush.

She watched him fly away, his seven heads bumping into each other, as if having a disagreement, which they probably did… It was something that she had yet to wrap her only head around: how he could function as one person, in human shape, and seven minds, as a dragon. They all seemed to agree that they liked her, but she wasn’t sure if they also agreed on how to show it. How many of those minds were willing to capture Ivan unharmed? Could he even be captured when he became like this?

Ah, if only she could wield a sword!

‘Swords are men’s toys…’ her nanny used to laugh. ‘They go around, waving them around at the world, as if they bring anything but fear and pain…’

She could feel them both right now… the fear, and the pain… her heart ached as the dragon… her dragon roared and her brother bellowed. She couldn’t see a thing from the tower: the entire castle fenced her view like an overbearing mother hen. Here too…

Every single moment of her life, she’d been nothing but someone to protect, to care for, to keep away from any possible harm. Whether it was her brother, her cousins, her servants, and now, her dragon too…

Not even her nanny would leave her be, even when she’d insisted to learn at least protective spells… All she was willing to teach her was how to animate and change animals and objects, to various stages between illusion and reality.

When she’d summoned that lake, it had been the greatest day of her life, and it was still hard to remember how exactly had she done it, in fact… All she remembered was how tired and absolutely done with being chased around she was, especially as the ox under her spell started wearing thin, under the relentless Bear King’s pursuit.

Her dragon roared again. No, that was not a roar. He sounded hurt…

Of course, the fight was not fair. He was trying to capture Ivan without harming him, while Ivan had no reason to restrain himself, at all. There was no way that this would end up well… She had to go down there now!

The trap door under her feet unlocked easily enough, but it still took some time. It led into another room, closed with yet another trap door… if this was how this entire tower was, it would take too long to leave it. She had to find another way, and fast.

There was straw and rope in the second room… it would do. She grabbed a few handfuls of each and got to working as fast as her fingers could keep up. Blood stained the straw as she worked the ties tight and the rope cut through her skin, but she paid it no mind: if anything, it seemed to help the enchantment entwine faster along.

Another pained growl resonated through the castle yard…

“Come on…” she urged the little straw doll, blowing some of her own life into it. She’d have to slay a couple of rabbits to get it back later, but they had plenty of those around the place…

The enchantment caught and the doll flapped its straw and rope wings, pushing its head placeholder ahead, as if trying to screech. No sound came out, since there was no mouth, and the doll turned its faceless head towards her in a mute complaint.

“I’ll finish you later, with emeralds for eyes and steel for a beak!” she promised. “I’ll even make your wings out of leather and your feet of iron!” she added, as the doll seemed to consider her offer.

It accepted, flapping its wings and rising to the air outside the window. She had to climb the sill to reach it, but she was planning to leave that way all the same…

The distance to the ground seemed thrice as large, now that it was right under her feet. She took a deep breath.

“There’s nobody else who can finish you, so you better make sure I reach the ground unharmed!” she warned, before letting go of the windowsill and grabbing entirely on the doll.

A building crashed in the distance, horses neighing in distress…

She jumped, her fingers digging deep within the straw. She really, really, really should have thought about putting something sturdier in it and even some handles…

She cried in regret and terror as the doll threatened to come apart under her weight, way, way, way too high above the ground.

Flames burst alive under her fingers, setting the doll ablaze, and her hands with it. That was the last thing she needed right now. She prayed to any gods or spirits that might be listening, tears sizzling against the burning flesh, straw and rope, as she started plummeting towards the ground with increasing speed. Her fingers wanted to let go, but her mind forced them gripping for as long as possible, fighting for survival.

There was no telling, with the terror and pain, how long she’d been in the air, by the time her dragon slid backwards into view, avoiding a raging Ivan once more. She realized too late that she was screaming aloud, as her dragon turned all seven heads towards her, mirroring her despair.

He shouldn’t have. The cost for looking away from his opponent was too steep.

Seeing nothing but his target, Ivan closed the distance between them and sliced through the nearest head, cutting it clean off. It didn’t even have time to understand what was going on as it tumbled to the ground, under the horrified eyes of Maria and the six remaining heads. It tried to scream as pain registered at last, but there were no lungs to carry any sound.

“NO!” she yelled, but her voice didn’t carry either, a dull screech filling the air around her instead, fire licking at her face like flapping wings, as she found herself turned in the air and dropped right where she wanted: between her brother and her dragon.

The fire didn’t burn any longer. She barely had any time to register letting go of a flame shaped vaguely like a bird, before her eyes landed on her brother, who watched her, not with recognition, but measuring, as if assessing whether she was an obstacle or not.

“STOP THIS INSTANT, IVAN!” she yelled.

He barely spared her another glance before rushing her dragon once more… of course…

Cold realization dawned on her as she pulled off her one ring, waiting for him to stop in his track just for a moment. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her abilities, or that he was protective of her. He didn’t listen nor see her… ever. Her voice carried, he always nodded when she spoke and seemed to hear her words, looked her way, but he never listened to her. Nobody did, not even her dragon… although at least he saw her.

“HALT!” she commanded, throwing her ring at him. It hit the ground instead of his body, but it was close enough for the enchantment to work anyway, wrapping around his legs and throwing him entirely off balance, a loud, bony sound telling of a chin hitting the ground and teeth crushing against each other.

“YOU TOO!” she barked as the dragon, who was coiling to strike, overcome with pain and anger. “Did you even TRY to use that handkerchief I gave you?” she glared, her arms to her hips. To his credit, all remaining heads froze in their track, looking sheepish. Half of them were still angry, the other half were throwing her bewildered glances. Neither dared say a thing. She didn’t risk looking at the seventh head, lest her anger gave way to sorrow.

She stomped to her brother before he could come out of the falling daze, stepping on his wrist as he was still gripping the sword, ready to swing it once more.

“It’s all about these blasted things with you, every time!” she pressed her weight on her foot until he finally let go and she could remove the cursed sword out of his reach. “Weapons, fighting, hunting… never talking, never listening… Here! All yours!” she threw it to the bird-shaped flame as it hovered nearby, faceless but eager, like a puppy waiting by their master’s table. “Steel for your beak and leather for your feathers.”

The bird caught the sword with its body and soon enough, it’s screech went sharp and painfully vibrant. She’d expected it to store it, but it could build itself up instead… That was unheard of, but she wasn’t going to complain now…

“Give me iron!” the bird spoke. “Give me emeralds! And more leather!”

“I will, as promised!” she nodded, stepping on Ivan’s back and reaching for the remainder of his weapons.

He tried to shake her off, as she used the dagger to cut off his sheathe belt and his quiver.

“Halt! Yee of ears that do not hear!” the bird screeched and Ivan moved to cover his ears instead of fighting her off. No… he touched them, as if trying to see if they were still there.

“Did you take it?” Maria glared at the bird. It was hard to say if it noticed anything other than her tone, with just a beak on its face. “His hearing?”

“What use does he make of it anyway?” the bird cawed coldly.

“Return it!” she commanded.

“As you wish…” the bird scoffed.

“Unhand me, wench! What have you done to my sister?” Ivan sneered from under her knee, as his hearing returned without a sign, not even a glimmer of magic.

“I have always been your sister, you oaf!” Maria pulled at the hair in the back of his head in anger, like she always did, since they were kids. Only now it wasn’t about a biscuit he wouldn’t share, so she pulled a lot harder, until some hair snapped under her grip.

“No… you can’t be!” he sounded outraged, but unsure.

“Here! A bonus! Use them for your nest or something…” she threw her earrings and the entire quiver, brimming with arrows, at the bird, watching its wings spread wider as it consumed everything. “That fence is made of iron. Take its gate…” she pointed. She’d handle the apologies later.

“My sister… she would never…” Ivan almost sounded as wailing.

“Right, your dainty and demure sister…” she hissed, stepping off him after making double sure that he had no more weapons. “Maybe you should have thought of me before trying to kill my boyfriend…”

She dared look at the fallen head at last, her heart breaking loudly in her ears.

“I can help, master!” the bird hopped by her, pushing its head under her arm, like a puppy, looking to comfort her, watching her with many eyes made of more gems than just the emeralds from her earrings. Ivan must have hidden his gem stash in the quiver again. “Give me one more part of you, and I will bring you the Water of Life and the Water of Death before you know it!”

She looked at the bird. It was smart… too smart for a doll made of straw and rope, even if she counted the blood too… Whatever was animating it, it was no longer her life behind it, but something old and knowledgeable… She wondered what the cost for its name would be…

“Would an arm do?” she asked, looking at her hands, deaf to the chorus of protests that the dragon’s heads broke into, at her words. Ugly scars stretched all across, halfway up to the elbows, as if she’d burned not just a few minutes, but many years ago. She didn’t need both of them to cast, and she could always build herself a replacement, with enough time and dedication…

“You already gave me your blood, flesh and tears…” the bird said. “And I have no need for your bones. Steel and iron are better.” it cackled proudly.

The dragon almost lost it when she moved the negotiation to her eyes, tongue, ears…

“You’d give your eyes for that?” Ivan was outraged.

“That is your brother-in-law, so I’d watch my tongue if I were you!” Maria was livid. “What were you even thinking? Coming into someone’s house and…” she swallowed, unable to finish the sentence. “If you were raised in a cave, you’d still have better manners than this!” she took her handkerchief as a concerned dragon head reached over her shoulder, gently.

“Give me your hair.” the bird said, its many eyes measuring her with sharp intelligence. “A strand is enough…”

“We’re fine…” the dragon head on her shoulder said carefully, swallowing often as to avoid blowing ice on her while it spoke. “There’s still six of us…”

“It must be a long journey, and I’d rather you return faster than later.” Maria ignored it, untying her hair. The iron pins, that the maids had so carefully put in it this morning, became food for the bird too, since she wouldn’t be needing any for a while ahead… “Take it…” she held most of it out for the bird to cut it, with its new sharp steel beak.

It didn’t wait for a second invitation, taking off with the hair without another word. Whatever she had brought to life, it knew what it was doing.

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“Are you both sure that this is enough?” she asked the bird as it returned with two heads on its body: one carrying the Water of Life in its beak, the other, the Water of Death.

“You just wait a little longer, master… It would have worked it I just brought a single drop, even.” the head who brought the Water of Death spoke proudly as the other one just nodded, focusing on not swallowing their delivery.

They had realigned the head to the neck, but it seemed to be taking forever. The other six heads dozed in a semblance of patience on the floor, his tail slapping against the ground like a mildly annoyed cat.

“Where is your belligerent sibling?” the idle head asked, looking around the hallway.

A couple of days had passed since the fight, and the place was going through repairs already. Her dragon was getting rather hissy about not being allowed to turn to human, but if he did, the now reattaching neck would have disappeared entirely, according to the head maid, who seemed more knowledgeable about dragons than even the dragon himself.

“On his way home.” she said, checking the head for the twentieth time. “I’ve had a talk with my uncle and we agreed that Ivan’s not to touch any weapons again until he learns manners.”

“The Tsar agreed?” the bird’s many eyes glinted with interest.

“Of course.” Maria stood tall. “Hard to disagree with a sorceress who can put a curse on your bloodline at any time, since she carries it around within herself… especially after she set fire to your entire garden from three kingdoms away.”

“But nobody can cast fire that far…” the bird leaned its head, looking intrigued.

“You know that, and I know that… my uncle doesn’t…” she winked. “Alright… bring the Water of Life!” she rushed the bird closer, the other heads popping up from the floor like flowers in spring.

“How will you know if the Tsar keeps his word?” the birds second head spoke as soon as the Water of Life spilled over the lifeless head.

“The same way that I set his garden on fire…” she grinned mysteriously, looking at the nearby mirror. Her nanny’s face reflected on its surface for just a moment, a proud smirk blooming in her cheeks as she went on with her daily royal servant chores.

The bird’s many eyes blinked, looking her over with growing amusement, a laughter erupting from its burning body as the two heads rejoined into one.  

“I answered you out of a whim.” it said, wiping at its many eyelids as if it had teared up. “But it looks like I’ll be having the time of my life, in your service, Sorceress Maria.” it leaned into a deep bow. Its iron feet clinked against the stone floor as it took off, cackling as it circled around the hall in merry acrobatics.

“That was quite a nap I took…” the head next to her spoke, blinking drowsily as it moved against her arm for the first time in days.

“You would have napped long and hard if my canary wasn’t here to help…” she kissed his forehead.

“Me next!” said one head.

“Me next!” the others echoed in turn.

“Hmm… Canary…” the bird mused, flying over the heads as Maria took turns, kissing each and every forehead. “I like that! I’ll be that!” it chirped right by her ear, landing as the cutest fire-orange Canary that she had ever seen.

It’s eyes were black and beady, like one of her nanny’s expertly made dolls, but if you didn’t look too closely, you could easily mistake it for a regular bird.

“Well, find yourself somewhere else to perch… This shoulder, along with its owner, has a lot of catching up to do with one, very impatient dragon…” her dashing human-shaped dragon chased it away, pulling Maria to his arms. He’d waited as much as his last dragon forehead getting kissed before turning, no more.

“Isn’t impatience something of my kind?” she teased, moving her arms around his neck. A thin line stretched right across his right collarbone, almost invisible.

“I can admit when I’m proven wrong…” he huffed against her lips, hovering, just about to touch them with his own, but not quite.

She closed the distance, their noses bumping into each other. She chuckled with him, but didn’t pull away, tilting her head just enough to avoid repeating the impact. His lips were just as soft as she’d imagined, and she indulged in exploring their every corner. She wasn’t sure what else to do, but by the amused look in his eyes, it was clear that it this wasn’t quite it.

“I didn’t get your brother’s blessing” he teased, pulling away.

“Ah, it’s not like you’re marrying my brother too…” she rolled her eyes, ever so slightly.

And they lived happily ever after…

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Thank you for reading all the way through my little story. I hope you enjoyed it!

This is the first story that I ever made public, so I am a little nervous.

If you have any suggestions or know any guides that could help my writing improve, please feel free to let me know.

[pearlofthesirens]

For My Princess Only: Chapter 2

summary: You did not expect yourself to fall for a commoner, that too a bandit out of all the men who wanted you. But what happens when your safety is threatened and your father, the king, learns about your secret lover? pairing: Bandit!Kyle Gaz Garrick x Princess!Reader warnings: she/her pronouns used, reader of arab/south asian descent, slight cursing, historic misogyny and objectification of women mentioned now playing: Nainowale Ne by Neeti Mohan word count: 1283 words(one thousand two hundred and eighty three words)

"How much for a dozen of these apples, brother?"

"36 coins, madam."

"36? I swear you people are raising the prices, last month it was 24 coins."

"These are from the new harvest, dear. They arrived fresh this very morning."

"Fine, fine. I'll take it for 36 coins."

The fruit vendor happily received the payment and handed her the dozen apples in your bag, totally unknown to him that he was talking to the princess. How would he? Her face was hidden by a stole wrapped around her head and face. Women in her kingdom never failed to practice modesty through clothes and to blend in, she had to do the same. It protected her from the immense heat too.

It wasn't until she walked quite a distance from that shop to another one that she heard a commotion. Turning back, she was more than enthusiastic to see the same man from the day she was out with her father. He seemed to be in trouble, the fruit vendor holding his hand which had an apple in it.

"You thief! You think you can just take my fucking fruits and walk off without paying?!"

"Of course, he didn't pay." Princess laughed to herself and walked towards them to solve the issue. Raising a hand, she stopped the vendor from almost killing the man out of anger and took the apple from his hand.

"Don't worry, I'll pay for his purchase."

"Madam, this is a thief you're wasting your coins on!"

"Thieves don't steal something they don't consider a need. Food is an essential everyone deserves. Please add two more of these to the tally."

The 'thief' was dumbstruck seeing someone pay for him. He looked at her in awe, wondering who this generous woman was. Her eyes seemed familiar, he swore he had seen them before. After spending a few more coins on the extra fruits, she handed them to the man and proceeded to walk away, thinking that he will not recognize her since her face was hidden behind all the fabric. But he followed after her, with the biggest beaming smile on his face.

"Wait! Kind lady, please!"

She turned around again to find him tailing after her and this time, she could see his grin up close. He was like a fresh breath of oxygen, like a flower blooming in a desert, like a drink of chilled water in scorching heat.

"How do I repay you? You did more than just help me!"

"Consider it as a kind gesture, sir."

"You didn't just save me from that guy, you got me more than what I needed! I cannot just walk away without any recompense."

She took a deep breath in, hesitating to attempt what she wanted to. But she shook off all her negative thoughts as her fingers slowly rose up to her face, unclasping the fabric which concealed her features. And he saw, eyes wide at her identity being revealed.

"P-Princess..? Your Highness, I-"

She immediately covered her face back, putting a finger against his soft lips. She let her fingers wander up on his face, letting her palm fully rest on his cheek. For a moment, it seemed as if both of you found whatever you were looking for in each other. He found kindness in her and she found liberty.

"Let this remain a secret between us, hmm?"

It was enough to silence him, the only thing he could hear at that moment was her voice and the pounding of his heart in his chest. Every other noise faded away when her eyes scrunched up in a smile. She was just as beautiful in regular attire as she was in royal clothes, draped with the finest silk and jewelry. The lack of glamour did not take away her beauty or her kindness.

"R-Right, yes...I'm terribly sorry for burdening you with my troubles."

"It's nothing. I'm happy to help you."

She continued to browse through shops as he followed her, now with her consent. She stopped in front of a jewelry shop, checking out the trinkets laid in front of them. Her eyes wandered towards a specific jewel, something she thought would fit the rogue she had already made a plan to heal and set on a good path.

"Since you already know who I am, may I have your name?"

He felt the blood rush into his cheeks when he realized he did not even tell her his name. His hands shot up to his chest and he held his head low, earning an inaudible chuckle out of the jewel merchant who thought he was being courteous towards the lady.

"Kyle Garrick, Your High-"

She gave him a quick glare, reminding him that she was still in disguise. He coughed and collected himself before embarrassing himself in front of the princess anymore.

"Ahem- it's Kyle Garrick, madam. My friends call me Gaz."

"Kyle, hmm...got a nice ring to it. I hope to see you often."

"Of course, ma'am. Anyti-"

"Not while you're stealing something. I don't want to see you do that again."

"I-I..of course, yes..."

She saw the way his smile dropped and he appeared ashamed, and let out a brief breathy laugh. He looked adorable, almost like a little boy who got caught doing something he shouldn't have.

"Do you have a job? Anything you do for money?"

"N-No, ma'am..haven't had a stable one."

Nodding, she noted it down in her head before buying a gold chain with a bright garnet pendant from the merchant. With a swift movement of her hands, she swung the chain over Kyle's neck and stepped back to see how he looked with it on. "Definitely handsome", she thought, "but a few changes could do."

"Do you know how to ride horses?"

"I do, ma'am."

"Fend off an assailant?"

"Yes."

"If given a sword or a weapon of sorts, would you be able to safely use it?"

"Of course."

He could only stand with his hands behind his back, feeling her eyes trail from his face down to his abdomen. Her gaze felt scrutinous, as if she was making a conclusion out of his visuals. He definitely wasn't wearing his best, a tattered shirt and dirty trousers. His shoes were on the verge of falling apart, hair messy and unruly.

"Come to the palace tomorrow. I think I can get you to do something that you'd be whole-heartedly devoted to, for a hefty wage of course."

For Kyle, shocked would be an understatement. He was getting a employed at the royal palace? That too because of the princess, Her Highness?

"But I'm just a-"

"You're a man who is competent. And it would hurt me to not fix you with an occupation which could possibly bring you enough money so you won't have to resort to improper ways again."

He opened his mouth to protect, but the sympathetic on her face made him stop on his tracks. It was the princess of his kingdom herself pleading him to become better.

"Please, Kyle...let me."

And who was he to refuse the princess herself? He let out a chuckle, feeling defeated. Running his fingers through his hair, he met her eyes again and nodded. If it made her happy, then he was ready to do anything.

"Then I shall visit the palace tomorrow at your request, Your Highness."

He whispered the last part, making her giggle. She was successful in making a decision of her own which would benefit a man, it was a small step towards freedom. Her eyes, rimmed with kohl, crinkled as she smiled, and he felt as though he could never look at anyone else with such adoration.

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