#// 'this will be short' I said like a liar

[fairy-verse]

can i ask for more uh kross interaction? or fun facts? like what do they do together? does cross ever like get cuddly, the only way cross can, and just hold onto killer?

“Killer, I swear—”

“Hah! Then you must swear a lot, Crossy,” Killer sang as he continued to dance circles around the black-and-white hybrid, shuddering from the cold but having far too much fun to feel bothered by it. The winter winds might be on Cross’ side when it came to warning him about the oncoming freezing night, but he just couldn’t help the way he loved the sight of Cross outside in the light of the setting sun. That white-yellow light just made Cross’ wings shimmer so beautifully, and the faint colour of purple sparkled brilliantly as he moved, like gemstones.

Killer loves to tease Cross and it drives the black-and-white fairy mad with annoyance! Rarely will he have peace and—and—and oh… The sweet kisses Cross receives when he finally catches Killer is the loveliest reward in the world.

Cross yearns for companionship and is secretly very clingy. Killer yearns for attention and is openly clingy. Cross + Killer = Profit.

Even though Killer takes clear pleasure in driving Cross up the wall with his shenanigans and mischiefs, he loves it even more when he has Cross so flushed and so smitten that his wings flutter on their own from the overabundance of emotions he’s experiencing.

Cross can easily be persuaded to not rise early in the morning from having his usually feisty mate nuzzle up to his chest and purr in blissful slumber.

“You know you purr in your sleep,” Cross said, smiling fondly as he cradled Killer’s cheek, enjoying the sight of his sockets seeming bleary despite the lack of light within them.

“I don’t purr in my sleep,” Killer objected, yawned as his wings quivered when he stretched, and immediately slumped back down onto Cross’ chest. “Maybe you just heard me kiss your bosom in my sleep,” he teased but immediately faltered into a light blush as he looked up at Cross’ face, seeing only a tender smile filled with fondness and affection. It made Killer’s exposed soul flutter.

Cross would hold onto Killer and never let go if he could, but Killer gets restless after a while and Cross cannot forgo his duties, so it is with great shame that he must release his little mate.

“I am not little, you’re just freakishly tall.”

“Oh…”

“Psh, not in a bad way, you big softy. You know I love the way you tower over me when you get all protective and possessive; hmm? Criss-Cross,” Killer sang.

Cross blushed.

Killer got to see firsthand how strong and intimidating Cross can be when engaged in battle or when protecting those he loves, and by the stars, he felt a primal need to just immediately take him back to the nest and have a faerling with him. He immediately choked at his thoughts and blamed his spring fairy tendencies for that.

Cross pretends to not notice how much Killer stares when he’s training, but he knows; he knows all too well and he’s purposefully showing off.

Killer is insufferable when it comes to bragging about how he caught Cross before anyone else could. After all, what fairy wouldn’t want a Warrior/Knight fairy for a mate? There is hardly any better for making strong and healthy faerlings!

“I would love to have a faerling with you one day, Killer.”

“Ach! W- wh—hehehe, what is this about, Crossy?” Killer choked, laughing nervously even as he blinked in shock as Cross’ hand came to trail the edges of his soul, touches so light it almost tickled.

“You don’t have to answer me yet, I just want you to know that… That I’d really love to have a faerling with you. I could even be the one to carry it if you’d like.”

Being rendered speechless for the first time in ages, Killer found himself unable to answer for a moment. It wasn’t that he didn’t want a faerling… He just didn’t think anyone would ever want one with him, being a hybrid and all. But then… maybe Cross had that same thought hidden within that thick skull of his, though unwilling to reveal such insecurity in this tender moment where he just wanted to show Killer how much he wanted to bond with him.

… A faerling.

“Heh…”

Cross lifted his gaze to meet with Killer’s.

“Maybe I’d like that… one day,” Killer said, and the smile that broke over Cross’ beautiful face made Killer’s façade slip as his brows furrowed and his lips quivered with emotions. He couldn’t help but smile, too.

[strangersteddierthings]

No Regrets - Part Five

Part One🦇 Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six

This beautiful fic cover you see below was made by the fantastic, wonderful and lovely @skepsiss <3 Thanks so much!!! I'm still crying about it.

He jolts backwards, the burning in his chest hurts, it fucking hurts but- but it doesn't? He pulls in a deep, shaking breath and feels no pain.

"Steve?" Nancy asks from off to his right, so he turns to look at her. She looks concerned, and scared in a way he hasn't seen her in years. (Except it's not years, is it? Not anymore, or not right now?) "Are you okay?"

He shakes his head before digging his palms into his eyes. He's dying, dying, dying- he's dead, he has to be. The Storms are so toxic and he-

"Steve," Robin's voice is accompanied by her hands around his wrists. She pulls his hands from his eyes and he lets her. He blinks at her worried face. "Steve, what just happened?"

"I-I was. I think... give me a moment" Steve says. Robin nods once, a confirmation, but she doesn't move away or release his wrists.

He pulls in another deep breath and closes his eyes to think. He's trying to remember. He thinks he promised to explain everything after... after Pennhurst? Yes, he remembers. Promised that after Robin and Nancy got back from their trip to Pennhurst, he'd tell them everything he knows. It's... it is after, now.

It was yesterday that Robin and Nancy went to Pennhurst and spoke to Creel. They learned about Creel, and the music. They still got found out as fakes; Steve didn't remember what caused them to be discovered last time to be able to warn them against it this time.

He still ended up being bullied into driving Max around. This time, though, he already had an hour-long loop of Running Up That Hill in his car. They'd let Max go to speak to Billy alone, like last time. The boys paced around the car and this time, when they realize that Max isn't responding, Steve's already loading the tape into the cassette player. He shoves it into Lukas's hands and tells him to put it on Max, press play, and to not stop begging her to come back until she is.

Steve saw he had questions, but Max was more important. She floated, and fell, and Lucas had caught her. Then...?

Oh, right. Then, he did explain, yesterday evening, after everyone had crowded into the Wheeler's basement. Went over Vecna winning, Hawkins becoming ground zero for the apocalypse. Talks about a future with a lot of loss, but won't say who, as well as the slow decay of the air and earth. That you could breathe the air for small moments of time, but long exposure would make you sick. That even though they'd finally killed Vecna in 1989, too much damage had been done, too many gates opened, kept opening with every new death by demo-creature. El alone would never be able to close off all the gates. They were working on trying to create a reverse of the machine below Starcourt, meant to close gates instead of open, but the world would probably be a complete wasteland before they could complete it.

No one had reacted well to the news, but the yelling was a minimum, which had been a pleasant surprise.

In the end, Steve had told them they needed more people, more help. That he was going to tell Wayne about the Upside Down.

He opens his eyes, now, and looks around. The place is small, familiar almost. Wood paneling and- The Munson's home. They're in Eddie's home. Because last night Steve had come over. He'd come over and told Wayne everything because he couldn't do this again. Not alone, not as the only responsible adult.

The Wayne in the future had been so willing to help, when Hawkins ripped open at its seams, and Wayne in the present was the same. He didn't- he didn't even call Steve crazy. He'd said he believed Steve, that some government lady told him they were going to pay for him to be in a hotel since his home was an active crime scene, but Wayne'd refused. Eddie wouldn't know where to call when he got out, and what if he just showed up and Wayne was gone- well, Wayne found that unacceptable.

Now, Wayne should be his way back from Indy in Eddie's recovered van with the Byers and Mike, and they're here waiting on a call from Eddie.

Steve's not dying, or, he's not anymore? Or maybe he is, and this is just. What the end is like? Getting to put an end to your regrets or something.

Whatever. It doesn't really matter what or why or even how. He knows what is in store for the future if they don't stop Vecna today.

"Sorry, sorry. I'm back," Steve says, opening his eyes to look at Robin.

She scrunches her brow. "Back?"

"Back from the future," Steve gives her a lopsided grin and in return she squints at him, leaning in real close to his face like the closer she is the more of his mind she'll be able to read.

"You're a different Steve. Again."

"What?" Nancy asks.

"Again?" Steve asks.

Robin scrutinizes his face some more before backing off, just a few inches. "Yeah. It was- Saturday, when you just walked out of our shift after Dustin and Max showed up, you were different then. Not. It was- you know how we were just talking about how if only we could combine, our love life problems would be fixed?"

Steve does, but only after having to think about it for a moment. It was so long ago, but it wasn't. Not for the Steve he's replaced, not for Robin in front of him. "Yeah. I remember."

"It's like I didn't realize how much we'd already combined until we weren't anymore. It was like... like you were a completely different person. I thought it was just, maybe, a reaction to learning the Upside Down was back. But you got different. More haunted."

"You noticed a difference?"

Robin scoffs, "of course I did. You're you but it was. This whole week it's been like... each day brings a new you. With different quirks. Except yesterday was still all the same old-new you so I thought- I thought maybe we'd succeeded. Fixed whatever it was that needed changed because you hadn't changed. But we haven't yet. 'Cause you're back."

Steve shakes his head. "No. No, we haven't. But this time- we'll have the manpower."

"No, I mean, I just-" Robin huffs, falling back onto her butt rather than staying in an uncomfortable crouch. "I just noticed, is all."

"Are we making it better," Nancy asks, "or worse?"

Steve looks from Robin to Nancy. "I-I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I mean I don't know. I don't- I don't know what we've changed. Or if it's been for the better. Because I don't remember."

"Oh," Nancy says with a nod, the look on her face morphing to one Steve knows means she's working out the puzzle of it all. He'll leave her to it.

His attention turns back to Robin, who has her head tipped back, looking at the unopened gate on the roof of the trailer. It definitely cannot be mistaken for water damage anymore. "What are you thinking about?"

Robin tips her head back down to look at Steve. "Exactly that."

"What?"

"Sorry," she says with a frown, "I was just thinking about how we can't- we don't really read each other's minds anymore. I know we should be worrying more about the end of the world but I'm just, just being selfish. Worrying about our friendship."

"You are the only constant in my life, Robin Buckley," Steve confesses, a fierceness to his tone he doesn't even recognize. "You have been, and always will be, the person I need in my life to bother even living it. I swear to God, Robbie, that if anything ever happens to you, I will walk into traffic."

Robin lets out a laugh. "That's a bit extreme."

Steve shoots Nancy a look; he can see she's in her own world. He stands then, offering a hand to Robin to pull her up. "Come on. I have something to tell you. A soulmate secret."

Robin's eyes light up with delight and he pulls her from the ground before leading her to the only place they can get privacy. Eddie's room.

It's two steps into the room that Steve realizes he's never seen Eddie's room before. Or, if he had, the memory of it is lost with the time line it happened in. In Steve's memory, the front half of Eddie's home gets obliterated, and when Eddie and Wayne went back to gather the things that survived the gate opening, Dustin, Mike, and Lucas had gone with the help pack it up. Steve had been helping fortify the high school.

It seems ridiculous, to be hit with the thought of never having seen Eddie's room, with the threat of the apocalypse still looming.

"Alright, secret time," Robin sounds delighted, and her voice pulls him from his thoughts. She shuts the door and turns, eyeing the bed skeptically. "Hmm, standing room only I think."

Steve huffs out a laugh as he takes in the mess of a room, a room that looks lived in and shows Eddie's personality and the things he cares about. Nothing at all like his own room at the Harrington house; perfectly clean and matching and devoid of anything distinctly Steve. "Like you ever make your bed."

The noise Robin makes is clearly offended, and she smacks his arm lightly with the back of her hand, "uncalled for! Unprovoked, even!"

"Yeah, well, you're judging a guy who's been in jail this past 48-ish hours. Not like he had time to tidy up," Steve says.

"I think the state of his bed -whole room, really- is not because he didn't come home to clean up. In fact, I think he just lives like this."

"At least his room looks lived in. I mean, look at all of this on the walls. You think he drew these?" Steve says, hand reach out to brush against a drawing tacked to the wall nearest him.

"Your room could look lived in, too, if you weren't afraid of a few tack holes," Robin replies, crossing the room. Steve watches her go, approaching the mirror and the guitar mounted in front of it. She examines the guitar before picking up the red yoyo atop the amp.

"And here you were worried about not being able to read my mind anymore."

She turns to him and gives him a quick, genuine smile before turning her attention back to the yoyo. "So, what's the soulmate secret? You really good with a yoyo?"

"What? No. I didn't even know that was in here," Steve says.

"I thought you knew the future," Robin teases as she gets the yoyo to successfully fling from her palm and back into her grasp. She makes a little pleased noise before she creeps around the room, gawking at all of Eddie's things.

"I know one, specific future that we are trying to change, if you'll remember. I didn't know you could yoyo."

"Neither did I- oh my God, there's an Alf costume in his closet!"

"A what- no, nevermind. You can snoop and-"

"I'm not a snoop."

"-and listen as the same time, so I just. I'm gonna say something and please know that I have had five years to figure this all out, and also know that the apocalypse has a way of putting things into perspective."

"Mhmm," Robin hums an acknowledgement as she moves back to where she picked up the yoyo. "Why does he have a pepper shaker in his room?"

Steve ignores her, choosing to believe that was just her thinking out loud and not actually asking him. "Actually, the apocalypse was full of surprises. And I mean, beyond the surprises one might expect. Like, so many of our old teachers are survival experts. Did you ever have Mr. Clark, that guy- wait, no. I had something I wanted to tell you."

The phone starts ringing in the living room. Nancy's out there, though, so neither of them move to the door.

"Anyway, this feels so... why am I so nervous about this? I mean, I've already told you once, but, uh, I. I'm a little worried, scared?"

"Hey, whoa," Robin has dropped her investigation and turned fully back to Steve. "What is it?"

"I like Eddie," Steve blurts, needing to get the words out. "I like Eddie, and I died so now I think this is my only shot, like last last shot but I don't even know if he'll still like me back and I'm, like, ridiculously nervous to see him because, and this is the soulmate secret part because-"

"Whoa, what, what!!? Did you just say died?"

"- you cannot tell anyone, but I'm the reason he's been in jail. I called Hawkins PD and told them where they could find Eddie, 'cause if he was in jail then he couldn't be blamed for Fred's murder, but I've never had to fess up to that because, like, Hawkins exploding and life becoming an actual nightmare for years made it not important. Like, what's a criminal record in the face of no surviving government?"

Robin is staring at him, eyes wide and face slightly pale and it's now that Steve thinks that, maybe, he's not doing as well with everything as he thought he might be.

"Am I... okay?" Steve asks himself out loud, and that has Robin throwing herself across the room to clutch at Steve, drag him into a crushing hug. He hugs back, trembling and finding it hard to breath.

"No, no I don't think you are," Robin whispers, squeezing tight.

"Hey, that was- oh!" Nancy says as she flings the bedroom door open. "Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt-"

"It's just a hug," Robin says.

"Right. Umm, the phone was Officer Callahan. We can go pick up Eddie."

"Right," Steve says, pulling away from the hug and pulling himself together. He can have his mental break down tomorrow. "Let's go get Eddie."

Provided if that, this time when he closes his eyes to rest, he'll wake up here and not. Well, either in the future or not at all.

-

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @a-little-unsteddie @sevenmerrymagpies @steviesummer @queenie-ofthe-void @mycatsstolemybiscuit @lololol-1234 @synonym-for-strange @tchackdaw

[beanghostprincess]

A tale of daisies & larkspurs

For @sanusoweek || Day 2: Fairy Tale / WLW (pretend this was posted on time)

Relationship: Sanji/Usopp (F/F)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Recommend reading on Ao3 but the main ones are: Transphobia, gender dysphoria, child/domestic abuse, and violence (I swear this is happy too don't get tricked by my angst)

Chapters: 14/14

Summary:

‘I love you’, her mother always says. ‘My precious daughter. My angel.’ But her father’s words are still louder. “It is the only thing he will never be able to obtain.” He turns around to approach her numb body, as she uses her last efforts to hold on to Pedro’s armor. Judge doesn’t smile, but he has all the fun in the world when he frowns with disgust at his son. Son. “A true love kiss.” — Usopp smells like wild berries, daisies, and wood. Like ancient books, fire, and dirt. Like chemicals, poison, and deadly flowers. Like sunlight, wet grass, and thousands of thousands of songs Sanji hasn’t been able to hear. It is impossible to know what a song smells like, but she is quite sure they all have the scent of that music box Usopp made for her. She always brings gifts whenever she comes. It makes the princess feel less trapped and more… It wouldn’t be more, since she isn’t even a bit free. But it makes her feel free. Liberation, that’s what she smells like. Freedom.

Read on Ao3!!!

More of my works!

Check out @aimtodraw's fanart here!!! I loved it so so much and I had to hold myself back from screaming in the middle of work when I saw it--

Also @the-orion-inexpirience's art I asked them to draw quite obviously inspired by this fic!!!!!!! It inspired me so much to keep writing!!!

[anawrites3]

Hello, I woke today wondering whether Slade and Dick sleep together in royal au and when they started sleeping in one bed at all 👀 Did it surprise Dick etc

Have a good day 💕

Hi, love!! Thank you for asking -3-

At this point of the story (the one on tumblr of course) they haven't shared a bed yet! As big of an asshole Slade is, he is anything but well prepared and so he knows Gotham customs pretty well - he just chooses to ignore them most of the time. He knows that Dick could actually start to hate him if he forced him to sleep in his bed before they got married and as tempting as it is, he gives Dick his own rooms.

Dick was meant to move into Slade's chamber after the wedding, where they'd consummate the marriage and then Dick would just stay there permanently. Buuut as you know, in the last part Dick got stabbed so he wasn't really in a shape to do anything of the sorts. After Villian allows Dick leave the hospital wing, Dick returns to his old rooms. They should be sharing bed at this point, yes, but Slade wants to make sure that Dick's wound is healed properly. Instead, Slade visits Dick in his room pretty much everyday :3

So, the short answer is: they haven't slept together yet and they start sleeping in one bed after Dick is completely healed 💕

A short scene because this just got into my head:

------

Dick walked further into the garden, wrapping his cloak more tightly around himself. The snow was reaching his ankles even in the boots with thicker soles and he cursed Defiance's weather under his breath before quickening his step.

He wanted to talk with Slade and he had to do it now, before he lost his confidence.

Just as the guards told him, Slade was sitting by the now frozen fountain in the middle of the royal gardens, like he often did since their marriage celebration. No one really knew the reason for those outings but Dick suspected it had to do with him and the fact that they still didn't know who sent the man responsible for the stab wound in Dick's chest. The cold, biting air was a great way to clear one's head and help you think.

That is, as long as it wasn't turning you into an icicle, like it was happening to Dick right now.

Only, when Dick got closer to where his husband was, he noticed that Slade wasn't actually alone. Sir Wintergreen was sitting at the bench a few steps away from Slade, talking to him with a smile on his lips that was almost completely covered by his mustache.

Dick was about to turn away and go back inside the castle - he didn't want to interrupt them and it's not like his case couldn't wait - when Slade looked up. Their gazes met and Dick's breath left his lungs in a white puff.

"Richard?" Slade asked, visibly surprised to see him there.

Dick sharply inclined his head, "Your Majesty."

Wintergreen glanced at Dick with a knowing look in his eyes. He got up from the bench with a little groan of effort and patted his king on the shoulder with a smile.

"I'll leave you two to it then." He said.

"Oh no, sir Wintergreen, I didn't want to interrupt you." Dick said hurriedly. "Please, continue. I can come later-"

"Nonsense, Your Majesty." Billy waved his hand dismissively. "I was about to head back anyway."

"I'll see you later, Billy." Slade nodded at him and before Dick could try to protest again, Wintergreen disappeared behind the hedge.

"I apologize, Your Majesty." Dick said quietly, watching Slade stand up as well. "I wasn't aware you had company."

"Don't worry about it." Slade stopped before him to take his cheek in hand, stroke his thumb along the skin. Despite sitting outside in the snow for at least an hour now, his skin was still warmer than Dick's. "Did something happen? You don't usually seek me out like this."

"No, I just-" Dick started then stopped quickly and pressed his lips together. He searched for the right words in his mind because everything he wanted to say earlier suddenly disappeared from his head.

He could back out from this. Say something completely else and Slade would have no idea about what was going through his head in the first place. But Dick knew that he would never gather enough courage again if he didn't say it now.

Beside, Slade had an annoying habit of always knowing when Dick lied.

"You shouldn't stay out in the cold for so long." Slade scolded him, not unkindly, after another moment of silence. He adjusted Dick's cloak. "You're shaking, little bird."

"I'll be alright." Dick smiled. "I should be getting used to this kind of weather anyway."

Slade's lips twisted in a frown as he shook his head. "It's not good for your health. And specially now, when you're still healing. Let's go back inside."

"A-actually..." Dick stopped Slade when he tried to guide him back towards the castle. He took a deep breath and felt the cold air dance in his lungs. It was now or never. "Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. I'm completely healed now. Villain said so himself. So now I'm... I'm finally good to move into your rooms, Your Majesty. The way it should be after the celebration."

For a moment Slade just looked at him. If he was surprised by Dick's words, he didn't show it in any way. He just looked at Dick without saying a word and if it weren't for the cold wind already biting at Dick's cheek, the young consort would surely blush.

"Your Majesty?" Dick breathed out.

In asnwer Slade took his own cloak off his shoulders and carefully wrapped it around Dick. He leaned down to press his lips to Dick's cheek. "Walk with me."

"B-but you... aren't you cold?"

Slade smiled. He reached for Dick's hand and intertwined their fingers together. "I'll be alright." He echoed Dick's words. "Walk with me. We'll worry about moving your things later."

And so, Dick allowed him to guide them through the garden.

[nyaagolor]

I was thinking about the SV rivals and their first pokemon (pokespe manga does a lot with a character's first pokemon and it's one of my favorite things about it). I like to think that for all three of them, their first pokemon came from their parents and kinda reflects their relationship in a way

Arven got Maschiff from his parents after they got a ton of money from the Tera Orb patent thing (the pokemon was the first thing they bought). Even tho their actions showed that they cared about their research more than him, Arven was always at the forefront of their minds, their love and care for him being the driving motivator behind everything they did. Arven's Maschiff (named Buddy) is the physical representation of their love for him and the ways they tried (and mostly failed) to show it to him. By contrast, Arven's relationship to Buddy represents the ways Arven is grappling with his relationship with his parents-- rejecting traditional notions of gratitude and care for family in favor of loving those who were present and spent quality time with him. Arven values that far more than blood relations, and ultimately puts value in the actions of those close to him, not their words. Tldr breaking up with my parents now my dog is my new guardian

Nemona got Pawmi from her parents, though they weren't actually there to give it to her. She's somewhat aware of the fact that this pokemon cost a LOT of money, as Pawmi (named Níspero after a tiny yellow fruit) is a trained physical therapy pokemon intended to alleviate the pain from Nemona's nerve-damaged arm. He was definitely never intended to be a battler for her. But ultimately, when it boiled down to it, Nemona was willing to take or refuse her parent's gifts in ways that actually suited her, training the pokemon to champion status. She loves them, but is more than ok with stepping around and over their intentions and expectations for her to chase the dreams that ring true to who she is. It's both a show of how Nemona takes her parents' absence in stride, but also in the ways that their distance means they don't understand her at all

Penny got her main Veevee (calling her Mewmew) from her dad (Peony) after she came out to him as trans. Peony is a huge gift giver and very big on elaborate shows of affection, so after Penny came out to him he wanted to make sure she ABSOLUTELY knew how much he loved and supported her. She came home one day to find a female Eevee on her desk with a big pink ribbon around her neck and a card attached that had the catchphrase of her favorite magical girl on it in her dad's distinct cursive. "Shine Bright Like the Starry Sky and be who you want to be! Love, Dad <3". This is the Eevee that Penny ultimately evolved into Sylveon, who can only evolve thorugh ~love~, representing how even though she grumbles about her dad's overbearing nature, she is really grateful that she has someone like that in her life and loves him lots (whether or not she'll say it out loud)

[demolitionistic]

did they really need to put in that cliffhanger who is that who could it be when will i see my sons white and tan again please are one of them the guy or is it someone else who is it who is it i am so normal about this show

[queerregulusablack]

Me, starting the Reception Teacher AU in October: yeah I'm gonna make it a long one shot, I don't think it's going to be that beefy

Me today, having planned the next thirty six parts: .....hmm.

[femmespoiled]

I hate how tonight I'm forced to think about the weird dynamic it is when for most of your life the only person who ever cared about you is also the person who traumatized you the most

[hexiewrites]

i may uh

i maybe am accidentally writing a ted lasso fic LOOK WHATEVER ITS FINE ITS TOTALLY FINE

[lualamina]

Worse Than Death

Midsommar starter for @ulirblood

It had started as a way to pass the time. Jeritza was, unfortunately, both a professor at the Officers Academy and a Knight of Seiros in name, and alongside the immunity those titles conferred came expectations and a certain degree of responsibility. His savior did what she could to see that he was spared from the more mundane aspects of the life, but she was still just a student herself; she held little sway over the way things were. And Jeritza was contracted to play his part all the same.

His name should have been the last picked to be a guard for Midsommar’s festivities though. The sheer number of visitors in town made his skin crawl. Their voices were like nails dragged down a chalkboard. And everywhere he turned, children were weaving in and around the legs of festival-goers, hands full of sticky sweets or strings of firecrackers. He managed to find some quiet, out-of-the-way alley where two barrels of rejected turnips for the carving competition were awaiting their fate and stood there for some time, watching the sky change colors with the passing afternoon. His hands twitched and tingled though, desperate for something to do, so eventually he plucked one misshapen turnip from the bunch and, leaning against the wall, set to work on it with his hunting knife.

Jeritza had dabbled in woodcarving before - it had been a pastime preserved from childhood - and the turnip reminded him of birchwood. Firm and solid, yet soft enough to work. He made a few test cuts, white skin curling easily before the edge of his blade and dropping in long strips at his feet, and finding them satisfactory, allowed himself to focus wholly on the project. Within moments, the entirety of the festival, its crowds, the nail-on-chalkboard voices, and all the rowdy children disappeared around him.

He had finished a cat and was notching feathers into a bird’s wing when he felt the eyes upon him. He glanced up, his own shadowed and cold, and the pair of children watching him half-hid behind one of the barrels. His blade stopped against his thumb.

“What is it?” he asked gruffly. One of the children hesitated, but then pointed at the cat carving sitting on a nearby crate.

“... Th-that looks like my cat, Snowball,” answered the child. “Can I have it?”

Without saying a word, Jeritza picked up the carving and handed it over. The girl’s entire face lit up with a smile as she clutched it to her chest.

“Oh, thank you, Mister!”

Jeritza merely grunted and returned to his carving. The children dashed off with their new toy, and he thought that would be the end of it. Another child soon came, requesting the bird. Then a fourth, wishing to see a trout. A new pair wanted two bears - a big one and a small one. Jertiza found himself entertaining each request, and the children, for the most part, were quiet as they watched him. But the crowd grew larger, and adults soon gathered around as well.

“Mr. Knight-- Mr. Knight--” This one was the voice of a middle-aged woman, waving a white handkerchief for his attention. “My boy is at home sick this evening and couldn’t make it to the festival. I’d like to bring him back a trinket. A swan would do, if you-- Hm?”

Jeritza grimaced and stood up without a word.

“Mr. Knight? Mr. Knight, where are you going?”

The crawling sensation was back again, and the woman’s voice had transformed into the creaks and scrapes of rusted screws twisting into place. He couldn’t hear his own thoughts, only that the pounding of blood in his head meant he had to get away. His shoulder collided roughly with that of a blonde cleric as he rounded a corner at the end of the alley, but he neither stopped nor looked back for apology.

“Mr. Kni--” The middleaged woman was still hot on his trail, waving her handkerchief. “Oh, miss!” This time she called to the cleric. “Please stop that man!”

[erabundus]

@momijiba &&. said... 📂 📂📂📂 !!!

after  awakening  from  his  coma,  scaramouche  had  to  relearn  how  to  move  independently  of  his  own  will.  he  wasn't  supposed  to  ever  leave  the  machine  again  —  and  the  manner  in  which  he  tore  himself  free  was  effectively  the  worst  possible  way  he  could  have  ever  gone  about  doing  it.  the  tubes  were  attached  to  his  vitals;  he  damaged  much  of  his  internal  mechanisms  to  such  an  extent  he  very  well  could  have  "bled"  to  "death."  (  frankly,  he's  fortunate  that  he  didn't.  )  it  wasn't  only  the  shock  of  detaching  from  the  robot  that  made  him  fall  into  a  coma;  it  was  his  body  putting  all  unnecessary  functions  on  standby  so  it  could  focus  everything  it  had  on  making  what  repairs  he  needed  to  continue  living.

when  he  regained  consciousness,  he  could  barely  move.  everything  was  numb  —  the  most  he  could  really  register  was  unpleasant waves  of pins  and  needles.  (  which  understandably  distressed  him  even  more,  as  someone  who  relies  so  heavily  on  touch.  )  eventually his capacity to feel returned. however, he  had  to  slowly  build  up  the  strength  to  do  literally  anything  —  and  even  when  he  finally  could  pilot  his  own  body,  he  needed  to  figure  out  how  to  walk,  run,  jump,  everything  all  over  again.  he  doesn't  like  to  talk  about  it  because  it's  a  massive  blow  to  his  pride,  but  he  had  to  go  through some fairly strenuous  physical  therapy  to  make  a  complete  recovery. thanks nahida.

there  was  at  least  one  occasion  wherein  a  complete  stranger  thought  it  would  be  a  good  idea  to  (  flirtatiously  )  grab  ren  by  the  waist  /  hips without permission  and  his  first  instinct  was  to  punch  them  in  the  face  so  hard  they  swallowed  their  front  teeth.  at  the  time,  all  he  could  really  think  to  do  was  awkwardly  speed  walk  away  —  but  in  hindsight  he  feels  it's  amusingly  well-deserved.

and  speaking  of  ren  being  awkward ...  ren  is  very  awkward!  i  don't  know  if  i'm  able  to  properly  convey  just  how  off-putting  this  man's  vibes  are  in  any  given  social  situation.  it  probably  doesn't  come  through  as  clearly  in  threads  because  those  are  outliers  wherein  he's  forced  to  interact  with  other  people  by  design.  as  a  default,  he  just  perpetually  lurks  on  the  very  outskirts  of  any public  gathering.  (  the  "they  don't  know  [  insert  shitpost  here  ]"  meme  of  someone  standing  in  the  corner  at  a  party,  but  that's  just  ren  24/7.  )  mind,  he  isn't  necessarily  shy;  he  merely  possesses  absolutely  no  desire  whatsoever  to  interact  with  most  people.  if  you  try  to  make  eye  contact  with  him,  smile,  wave  and  so  on,  he  probably  won't  engage.  he  might  stare  at  you  a  little  —  don't  take  it  as  an  invitation  to  strike  up  a  conversation,  because  it  isn't. he's probably calling you names in his head. he's awkward, but he's not the glamorized cutesy kind of awkward. he's the weird guy who occasionally forgets to blink kind of awkward. if he wasn't small and relatively harmless looking, he would probably terrify a lot more people. scara certainly did.

he's  always  been  like  this,  too.  the  kabukimono  is  the  only  one  who  would  actively  put  forth  an  effort  to  interact  with  others  —  but  even  he  was  strange  and  unsettling  in  his  own  way.  scaramouche  and  ren  just  do  it  deliberately.

ren  is  actually  surprisingly  good  at  gambling  —  or  at  least,  what  aspects  of  it  are  skill  based.  luck  is  entirely  up  in  the  air  (  and  often  against  him,  all  things  considered  )  but  reading  other  people,  knowing  when  to  make  a  call,  weighing  probabilities  and  so  on  he  has  an  innate  proclivity  for.  he's  never  touched  genius  invokation,  but  if  you  tried  to  challenge  him  to  a  game  of  something  more  traditional  (  like  poker  )  there's  a  very  good  chance  he  will  destroy  you.

SEND 📂 FOR A RANDOM HEADCANON

[carrieway]

in other news i bickered with ethan over whether or not im chronically ill . i think i lost .

[crimewrought]

“   i can give you a demo on how to reply to text messages,   if you’d like.   or on how to return missed calls.   ”     maria’s words are scalding,   but her tone is a far cry from legitimate cruelty.   one look tells her @umbrs​​​​​​ can’t take anything too venomous;   vic looks as though a light breeze might just topple him,   so maria won’t make him face her hurricane.   though righteous in her annoyance,   this particular crusade can wait.   greene lets her barbs melt on her tongue,   lets her features ebb from choleric to concerned.   the hand that reaches to stroke his cheek is a kind one,   and a guiding one.   vic’s endured his fair share of harshly guiding hands.   from her,   he can be certain of softness eternally.

   “   i’m glad you’re here.   come inside–––i’ve got tea.   or fireball.   ”

[licantropa]

OH MY GOD????

[ravenslvt]

☆ ryomen sukuna x f!reader ☆

cw: college au! smut! rough! degration! drabble

first thing you thought when you saw this man:

‘oh. i wanna fuck him.’

the way he acted like he absolutely hated you, always hiding a smirk when he caught you staring at him. his arms, his face, his muscles, his fucking tattoos.

“jesus. stop staring at him like that.” megumi would groan at the sight of you oogling the man. you’d blink up at him. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

your mind went crazy at night thinking about him. picturing him relentlessly pounding into you until you’re crying. a strong hand around your little throat.

don’t get started on his voice. the way he’d casually degrade you made your legs quiver.

“what the fuck are you looking at?”

the way you’d go over to him and yuji’s shared apartment just to hear him go “why the fuck is this bitch here?”

oh you loved it. and he knew it too.

that’s why when you stayed on yuji’s couch after a night of drinking, you casually thumbed at your phone, sending drunken misspelled texts to your friends.

‘hed so ficking hot giys’

‘seroudly i bet his duck is huuuuge’

your insistent typing got interrupted by a sudden groan behind you.

“why the fuck are you here?” sukuna stood behind the couch, looking over your shoulder. you quickly shut your phone off, turning to him.

your eyes almost popped out of your head at the sight of his shirtless chest.

you hadn’t even changed out of your bar clothes yet, still in a short little skirt and a low cut top. you don’t miss the way his eyes drop to your attire.

“dressed like a slut too. are you begging to be fucked or something?” he scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. your cheeks heat, looking away from him.

“no… just didn’t bring extra clothes” your thighs clench together to calm the heat from down there.

he hums, walking to the fridge for some water.

“and i’m not a slut!” you work up the courage stand, to practically yell at him, despite how weak your voice sounded. this makes him turn around.

“really? you sure look the part.” he chuckles.

“fuck you.” you spit out at him, making him smirk.

“you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” he quirks his head, eyes raking over your now standing form. the way your skirt hiked up just above your thighs.

okay, you were fucked.

“fuck! s’too much.” you mewl into the cushion of the couch, sukuna’s big veiny cock pounding into your tight little cunt. his hands gripping tightly at your hips, his pelvis meeting your ass with a loud clap at every thrust.

“you wanted this, didn’t you?” he laughs at your cries, his tip kissing your cervix every time he enters you, fucking you from behind.

he leans closer to your ear, his consistent deep trusts along with your moans were the only thing that filled the silence of the living room.

“runnin’ that fucking mouth and can’t even take dick.” he growls, grabbing your wrists and pulling you back to bring your bare back against his chest. you were covered in a thin layer of sweat, panting, all while he still had his full stamina, fucking into you ruthlessly.

you were embarrassed by the sheer wetness of your cunt, how the squelching noises proved how insanely bad you wanted him.

you whine when he lets go of your wrists, bringing his free hand to your throat, pressing you against him. using his other arm to wrap around your middle to hold you in place while he pumps into you.

“s’kuna!” you cry out, tits bouncing with every thrust. it was borderline painful the pace he was fucking you, but you loved it. you craved it. you spent countless nights fucking your little fingers imagining it was him.

“your pussy’s suckin’ me in like a fuckin' slut. thought you said you weren’t one? guess you’re a liar too.” he chuckles, hand tightening around your neck, partially cutting off your airflow. your hands go to reach behind you to tug at his hair, but he stops you.

“don’t fucking touch me.” he seethes, your cunt uncontrollably squeezing around him from the degration, making him groan and roll his head back.

“fuckk, you like that don’t you? so pathetic. suckin’ me in so well, though.” he grunts out between each thrust. you were so close, and he could sense it.

“g’nna cum.” you whine, hands gripping the edge of the couch.

“no, you’re fucking not.” he lets go of you, your upper body falling back onto the cushion below. you let out an exasperated scream when he suddenly pulls out of you completely. you crane your head back as far as you could to look back at him. he just has a smug ass smirk on his face.

“want you to beg for it.”

your mouth falls agape for a moment, but immediately closes.

“p-please, wanna cum so bad!” you try grinding back into him, but he holds you steady.

“surely you can do better than that, baby” his hand comes down to place a firm smack on your ass, making your eyes squint closed for a moment. you huff, pouting up at him.

“need your cock so badly, sukuna! p-please let me cum i need it!” you pathetically plead. you could feel the way you clenched around absolutely nothing, missing the presence of him inside of you.

“that’s more like it.” he quickly presses the fat head of his cock to your entrance, slowly easing in, stretching you out all over again.

“my own personal slut" he groans, feeling you clench around him.

his pace is even more brutal than before, his dick easily finding your sweet spot and hitting it over and over until you were practically drooling on the couch. his eyes glued to where you two meet, a ring of white around his cock.

your nails dig into the cushions below you, heat pooling in your lower abdomen. you were probably tearing the poor fabric apart at this point.

his fingers grip at your hips, pushing you up and down his cock. you were sure he was holding you so tight there will be bruises the next day.

suddenly his pace gets faster and sloppier, his cock pulsing inside of you. you bite your lip to prevent yourself from screaming out, feeling blood bloom from where your teeth meet your lip.

“gonna let me cum inside? be my little fuck toy i can do anything i please with?” he pants out, groaning at the way you clench around him.

“yes! yes, please do! o-oh my god!” your vision goes hazy as you cum around him, milking his cock fully as he follows suit, pumping his cum deep inside your weeping cunt.

you were pretty sure you blacked out for a second.

you collapse on your shaky arms, trying to move away from his unending thrusts. he pulls you back with a growl.

“the fuck are you going? we’re not done.” he starts back up again.

masterlist

[writtenfangirl]

Hungry For You

Another TikTok trend has sparked an idea in me.

Another (short) Charles Leclerc Fanfic

Y/N spooned the food carefully on to the two plates, casting the hidden camera a wide grin as she did so. While the plates were similar in size, one had a significantly larger portion. The grilled chicken on one of the plates was practically the size of her palm, the pesto pasta still steaming as she dumped it on the plate. On her own plate, she placed barely a handful of food, the chicken cut into three small strips and the pasta’s serving size so tiny, not even a small cat would feel full.

“Babe, it’s time to eat!” Y/N called out as she shot her phone another wink. She’s placed the devise inside one of the cups of utensils, hidden away from Charles’ keen eyes. The camera had a full view of the kitchen island, where she and Charles frequently ate their meals when they were alone.

She heard his footsteps bounding towards the kitchen, the door to his gaming room slamming shut behind him.

“I am starving and it smells delicious.” He practically beamed at her as he took his place on the kitchen isle, oblivious to the camera that was filming his every move. “I don’t know how you manage to impress me with your cooking every time, cherie.”

“You haven’t even tasted it yet.”

“It’s pesto. I already know I’ll love it.”

Pesto pasta was one of his favorite dishes and with the aromatic smells of the basil and garlic hanging in the air, Y/N had no doubts about his statement.

She circled around the isle taking her seat next to Charles, placing the plate with the larger portions in front of him and the smaller sized portion in front of her. But Charles paid the food no heed.

He grinned up at her, placing a kiss on her cheek. “Thank you for cooking for us, cherie.”

He did this every time she cooked. Thanked her for her efforts and grinned up at her like she hung the moon and starts. And every single time, without fail, her heart skipped a beat at the sight of that smile.

She handed him his utensils, his food finally snagging his attention before his eyes wandered to her plate. He frowned at the sight of it. “Why is your food so little?”

“What do you mean?” She asked innocently as she took the pitcher of water she had set and carefully filling their glass.

“Your food, it is so little.”

“Yeah, this was all we had,” she shrugged. “I forgot to stop by the grocery store this week and this was the last of the chicken and the pasta.” She took her utensils, getting ready to dig in when all of a sudden her plate disappeared. 

“Charles? What are you doing?” Bewildered she watched as her boyfriend dumped the contents of her plate on to his already full one.

“Eat,” he said as he pushed the fully loaded plate in front of her. There was no annoyance in his eyes, no hint of his previous hunger as he looked at her in earnest, waiting for her to dig in.

“Babe, I’m not even really that hungry,” she protested. “Come on, you need to eat.”

“I’m not hungry either,” he shrugged.

Liar. He’d been complaining the whole time she was cooking about how hungry and excited he was to eat. He always got that way after a training session and he’d been training since 9AM. Whatever lunch Charles ate during a training day was usually only enough to get him going and by the time he found his way home, he was always positively starving. And Y/N knew today was no exception.

“Just five minutes ago you said you were starving,” she deadpanned.

“You spent two hours on your feet, cooking. I know how tiring that is. I really am not hungry.”

She rolled her eyes, even as love bloomed at her chest. “You came from training.”

He waved off her concerns. “I promise, I am not hungry. And tomorrow, I will go to the grocery, buy our stuff and cook you a meal.”

It was a true miracle that Y/N didn’t grab her boyfriend right then and there and drag him to the bedroom. How she managed to snag a boyfriend so thoughtful and so selfless was beyond her. “You’re sure you’re not hungry?”

He grinned at her, his voice going deep and husky as his eyes darkened. “I’m hungry for you.” He gave her what he probably thought was sultry wink but that only served to have Y/N howling in laughter.

There was no denying how in love she was with her boyfriend but she had always been immune to his attempts at flirting. His charms would no doubt have worked on other girls but Y/N only found them cute. 

She was shaking her head as she took the other plate and dumped half of the food onto it. She ignored his protesting as she pushed the other plate towards him. She had given him the bigger chunk of chicken and the bigger half of the pasta but the piles of food were still more or less equal to each other. She doubted he even noticed the slight difference, especially since she pushed the other plate far away from him. “If we’re still hungry at the end of the meal, we can go to the cafe down the street.” 

He raised a brow at her, a smirk pulling at his lips. His face was barely an inch away from her, his green eyes practically glittering as he spoke. “Is that your move, cherie? Starving a man so you can take him out on a coffee date?”

She didn’t even try to stop her laughter, not as Charles pulled her chair closer to his own until she was pressed flushed against him. His arm automatically pulled her to him, his own lips pulled into a smile before he lowered himself on to her mouth. Their kiss was sweet, as sweet as this moment was. A moment that Y/N was sure she would never forget.