#[[ but then you look at the actual clothing and architecture of the place and it's right out of a medieval european castle ]]

[deedeeznoots]

The Deep Woods

➺ Update: If you enjoy this story, please feel free to also read some extra headcanons that delve into your life with Sukuna in the woods during the story as well as after the story takes place!

➺ Characters: Ryomen Sukuna, Fem!Reader 

➺ Word Count: 9.6k

➺ Genre: Slow Burn, Smut, Fluff

➺ Content: Fairy Tale!AU, True Form!Sukuna, Princess!Reader, MDNI, Arranged Marriage (not to Sukuna), Abusive Family (not super heavy though just average royal family bullshit), Swearing, Double Packed Sukuna, Oral (M!Recieving), Teasing, Begging, PiV, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Stomach Mouth used so Oral (Fem!Recieving), Reader Stabs Someone

➺ A/N: This is the perfect time to confess that the reason I started watching JJK was because of all the Disney Princess ships that were going around and I'm not ashamed at all, those ships were unironically cute. 

➺ Synopsis:  Far beyond the kingdom walls in the darkest parts of the forest, there’s said to be a monstrous beast with two faces and four arms. As the only princess in the kingdom, you ignore these rumors and explore among the trees anyways. Unfortunately, it seems curiosity got the best of you, and you come face to face with this exact beast. Though… after meeting him, you begin to question who the true monsters of the kingdom actually are. 

Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

Your footsteps can be heard echoing throughout the castle walls as you walk on the decorated marble floor. You take a moment to take in your surroundings. Beautiful pieces of art and architecture surround you as you walk through the place you call home. Despite living in the castle your whole life, you always found something new when you walked around. This time, you notice the tiny angels at the top of the pillars, seemingly staring down at you. Were those always there? You thought. It didn’t matter, but it was interesting to take note of. You had to take note of these things if you didn’t want to go insane. It was a good thing the castle was so large and had all of these tiny details, otherwise you would have put up more of a fight to leave than you already do. Sometimes though, you just wished your company wasn’t so terrible.

Taking a deep breath, you open the heavy doors leading to the dinner room. There, you’re met with two awfully familiar faces. 

“Father… Mother…” you say softly, bowing as you enter the room.

“You’re late” your mother curtly states. You look down half-apologetically, “I’m sorry” you mumble. 

She isn’t finished. “Your hair is disheveled as well, did you think this was the proper way to greet us?”. Of course, you haven’t seen either of your parents for the entire day, and during the small window of time when you did see each other, it’s surrounded with criticism. If it wasn’t your hair, it was your clothing, and if not that, it was the way you walked or talked. You’d be more angry about it if you weren’t so used to it. Nowadays, you simply pull up a chair at the comically large dining table where your family sat and quietly eat your food. Your father–the King– would follow suit. Either looking down at his food, or around the castle, or speaking with your mother. He did everything but look you in the eyes. In some ways he was worse than your mother. At least your mother criticized things in your control. Yet, your father’s distaste of you seemed to stem from nothing more than the cardinal sin you committed of being a woman. Your parents have no other children, so it seemed that your very existence continued to be a reminder of their failures– no, your failure to bring an heir to the throne. 

You finish eating your food, but it’s not over yet, because unlike previous dinners, you were on a mission this evening. Setting down your fork to grab their attention, you look at them both and ask “I’d like permission to go to the village”. 

Both of your parents simply stood in silence before laughing. In fact, this was probably the happiest you’ve seen them. “Oh please, what could you possibly get from the village?” your mother questions you, still with a stupid smile on her face. Trying to hide your offense, you straighten your back “I’d just like to see what’s outside of this castle”. 

Realizing you’re serious, your parents stop their laughs, and their faces contort into one of anger. “Don’t put such things in your head,” your mother says “There’s nothing outside of this castle that is of interest to you, a different Princess would already know that”. What she really means is a better Princess would know that. You already knew that they probably wouldn’t agree, but you were unable to stop yourself from wanting to put up a fight anyways. Irritated, you stood up from your chair “Please just– let me see what’s out there, one hour tops, and I’ll never ask again”. 

In anger, your mother abruptly stood up as well and said “Absolutely not. Who knows what the people may do if they find a Princess near their filthy surroundings. Especially those peasant men who could–” 

“You know what. Never mind” you begin to walk away, turning your back on your mother. She didn’t like this very much, “How dare you turn your back on the Queen! Come back here you damn woman” she yells out, but you’re already at the door. You push the door open and slam it closed behind you as you make it outside the dining room. There, you find your Lady in Waiting next to the door, listening into the conversation. Realizing that you caught her, she stood in stock. You simply looked at her before scoffing and turning away to go back to your room, and she scurried trying to follow behind you. 

As you two are walking, she begins to speak up. “You know Princess, maybe it’s for the best that you don’t go outside” she takes a short breath, tired from having to chase after you. “There really isn’t anything in the village that would be of interest to a noblewoman such as yourself” she laughs, but you simply ignore her and keep moving, walking even faster this time, to her dismay. She wasn’t getting to you, but she kept trying anyway, “Also…I’ve heard about a beast roaming the forest near the village. The people say he’s almost 9 feet tall, and has four arms! Isn’t that terrifying?” Now that made you stop, and you turned around to look at her. Yes! She thought, had she gotten through to you? 

“Don’t be stupid” is all you say before you make it to your room and abruptly close the door, leaving her outside. 

In your room, you peek through the large window showing the outside world. There, you’re also able to see the forest that covers the perimeter of the Kingdom. A 9 foot tall beast huh? You thought, oh to be able to see that. Maybe it was stupid to wish for such a thing, but you would be willing to see anything so long as it was outside the castle. You weren’t blind to your privilege, of course it probably wasn’t going to be the stellar experience you expected, but at least you would know, that would be more than enough for you. 

Still, it didn’t matter what you thought because you probably would be staying in this same castle every day for your entire life regardless of your thoughts about it. Turning back to look outside one last time, you walk to your bed and flop down, dozing off to sleep. 

The morning rays of sun stir you awake and nearly blind you as you open your eyes. Somewhat groggy, you slowly get washed and dressed as you make your way to the garden for breakfast. The gardens were the closest to the outside world you could ever get, and as such they quickly became your favorite place to spend your day. You say hello to some of the gardeners as you make your way to the gazebo where your breakfast is already prepared. Your mouth waters as you see the combination of scones and fruit laid out for your breakfast. You get lost in thought as you eat, thinking about how you’ll spend your time for the day.

Your thoughts get disturbed when your Lady in Waiting comes to greet you. You look at her, about to apologize for your behavior last night when she begins to speak “Your Highness,” she lightly bows, “The King and Queen have asked to meet you after breakfast, they say it’s important”. As she raises her head, you ask her what it might be about. Your parents didn’t usually ask to meet with you outside of dinner. You thought for a moment, hopefully this wasn’t about what happened last night. When she tells you that she isn’t sure what the meeting is for, you simply nod and tell her you’ll be there soon. 

Once she leaves, you finish up breakfast and make your way to the throne room. This was the place your parents spent most of their time, and where they held their endless gatherings and meetings. As such, you made it a point to avoid the place outside of times where they specifically ask for you such as this one. 

When you make it inside the throne room, you walk to your parents and give them a bow “Your Majesties” you say, greeting them. Your parents don’t waste any time, and get right to the chase. “We have good news” your father starts. “You’re to be married” he says, gleeful, you on the other hand were anything but. Slowly standing up from your kneeling position, you utter a small “What?”, not fully comprehending what’s coming out of his mouth. “It really should have happened before” your mother begins, “You have been more than old enough for a long time” she scoffs. “Wait!” you yell out suddenly, “I’m not getting married” you say, mostly out of shock at the revelation. 

Your mother sighs, not hiding her disappointment. “How many times do we have to say that it’s your royal duty to provide this family with an heir” she lectures. You simply look down. Damn it, you think, you really didn’t want to do this, but you suppose you had no choice, so you ask, “Who is it?”. This confuses your parents and they look to each other in confusion, so you clarify, “Who am I getting married to”. The fact that you have shown the signs of being willing (or at the very least, compliant), nearly makes your mother jump up with glee. Your father says “This young Prince in the neighboring Kingdom, his father has lots of good things to say–”

“What about you guys?” you ask. It wasn’t that you particularly trusted their judgment, but you trusted them more than some other King who most definitely had a conflict of interest, “What do you guys think of him?”. This makes your parents pause for a moment before your mother goes, “Well… we haven’t quite met him yet”. 

Now, you weren’t very particular about who you were going to marry. You knew it was going to come eventually due to the nature of your family, but this made you angry. To not even know who they were marrying you off to? Have they truly stooped to this kind of stupidity? “So you don’t even know who he is and you want me to marry him?” you question, now somewhat aggressively. 

“We can take care of all that later my dear–” your mother starts again, but you aren’t having any of it “No! Getting married to someone I don’t know is bad enough but someone you guys don’t even know? That’s just absurd!” you yell out, which makes your father angry. “What’s absurd is not having an heir to the throne!” he yells out, his voice booming throughout the throne room. “You are to be married to this man regardless of your personal feelings on the matter” he yells out again. You can’t look at him. You can’t look at either of them. Your brain is starting to hurt and you can’t do anything. So you take one last look at them before silently leaving the throne room. 

Making it back to your bedroom, you spend the rest of the day looking out your window, watching as the sun sets and the moon shows its full glory. Thankfully, no one bothers you for the rest of the day, but you still have a pounding headache from the conversation. Various thoughts fill your head, from I can’t believe they would do this to I don’t think marriage would be that bad, right? All the way back to I shouldn’t even have to question whether it would be bad or not. You eventually decide that you need to clear your head and get some fresh air. Fresh air outside of this damn castle.

Looking out the window, your eyes focus on the forest ahead. The luscious green leaves sway from side to side as you look out at them, as if to call you towards them. Surely, it would be nice to walk through those woods. 

What? No! That’s a stupid decision, you could get lost. Or worse, killed.

…

Well… dead people can’t get married off to strangers.

That thought in mind, you grab a cloak from your closet and open up your window. The cold breeze of the night hits your face as you look out toward the forest, toward freedom… at least for a little while, that is. The only issue that stands in your way is how to get down. Looking down at the ground from your window, you definitely wouldn’t be able to jump without dying or getting injured. Not liking either of those options, you look around your room for anything that might help when you eye a pile of blankets in the corner of your room. Perfect. 

Man, these blankets are long as hell you think as you tie the pieces of fabric together. Once you finish, you securely tie one end to your bed frame and bring the other end out the window. The end of the makeshift rope hits the floor, and you have a mini celebration of your success. 

Feet hitting the ground, you’re able to slip past the guards and make your way out of the castle walls. You aren’t scared, far from it. For the first time in your life, you’re free. You’re giddy for a while and that joy only grows as you get further and further away from the castle. You’re finally able to take a breath, even if only for a mere few hours in the night.

There are no lights in the forest, and you didn’t bring a candle with you, so you only had the full moon to guide you. This was alright though, and you bathed in the moonlight for a while, being at peace. 

Your head is finally clear, and you’re able to stay in meditative thought as you walk through the woods.

Then, you hear a growl. 

You snap out of your thoughts and turn to the direction where the growl was heard. 

You hear another growl behind you. 

Then another. 

It’s a pack of wolves. 

And they’re surrounding you. 

You’re able to see their faces as they step into the moonlight out of the shadows. Their hungry eyes showing you that they do not intend to free you. The beasts give you no path of escape as they inch closer and closer to you. You had no other choice, you were going to be their dinner. Knowing your situation, you simply crouch down and close your eyes. Hopefully, it’ll be a quick death you think as you hear their excited growls and howls around you. 

One of the wolves prepares to lunge at you, but just as it’s about to, another force tackles the animal. 

“Huh?” you audibly say as you slowly open your eyes. When you look around yourself again, there are no more wolves to be seen, all of them taken away by a mysterious force. You are frozen in place. What in the world just happened? 

You can’t think for long though, as you realize…You sense someone else’s presence. 

You slowly turn around to find a large beast in the distance. No, that’s no beast, that’s a man. Except… Why does he have four arms? 

You think back to your conversation with your Lady in Waiting the other day. 

Shit. 

He’s slowly inching toward you. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

The better part of your brain knows to run, but you remain crouched and unmoving, frozen in fear. Eventually, he stands in front of you, looking down at your small form. 

They say he’s 9 feet, huh? You weren’t fully sure if that was correct, but he definitely looked like it from the way he was hovering above you. 

This feeling. It’s pure fear. You weren’t even this afraid when surrounded by the wolves, whom you were fully expecting to eat you. But this, you aren’t even able to breathe. Hell, you can’t breathe, you don’t know what’s come over you. He did save you, right? Maybe he isn’t so dangerous. Though, maybe he’s simply saving you for himself.

The clouds in the sky that were previously covering the moon now moved past, allowing the moonlight to shine on the man’s face, and you’re able to see four bright red eyes looking down at you. 

Not knowing what else to say, you just scream out “P-Please! Please don’t hurt me!”. It was different with the wolves, they wouldn’t have stopped no matter what you said. With this though… Was he more man than beast? Maybe he understood language? You were going to take all your chances, so you continued begging for your life. 

He seemed to have no reaction to your qualms, and simply slowly raised up his hand, getting ready to strike you. He took his time, as if you were so small that he didn’t even need to fully put in any effort to try to catch you. You didn’t give up, you continued to beg for your life until the last moment, hoping to get through to him. You kept on screaming. Kept on begging for your life until the very last moment when he swiftly brought his hand down to your face and–

You knocked out. 

“Princess! Oh Dear– Princess!” 

The voice of your Lady in Waiting wakes you up. Your head is throbbing with pain, and her frantic tone certainly wasn’t helping. 

“Huh?” you groan, you feel the grass from under you, you’re in front of the castle. You begin to slowly remember the events of the night before. Right… you left the castle, but how’d you get back here?

You suddenly remember the wolves and that man that saved you. You begin to frantically look around. Did he bring you back? 

Your Lady in Waiting makes it to you and begins to help you up. She decides to ask “Why are you on the floor?”. She’s picking the stray pieces of grass off of your hair and as you’re about to explain what happened, you realize how incriminating against you the story was. So, you simply tell her, “I’m not sure…”. 

Thankfully, she doesn’t question you any further, and simply goes “Let’s go give you a bath” as she takes your hand and leads you inside the castle. You turn around for a moment and look toward the forest. What the hell happened? 

The hot bath was more than needed to help clean off the dirt on your skin. The steam also helped to relax you as you organized your thoughts. You remember the four-armed man, and his bright red eyes. You think about how he saved you from death. You sounded ridiculous. Was that… a dream? You thought. No… it couldn’t be, it felt too real to merely be a dream. Though, if that was true, why did he save you from the wolves, and why did he bring you back to the castle? Ignoring all that, a man of that kind of build is something out of children’s books. 

It was going to bug you for the rest of your days, you had to go back to find out what on Earth happened last night. It would just be a short trip to confirm, you remembered most of your steps from that night. Plus, it was broad daylight now, surely there would be no predators roaming around.

If anyone heard you, it would sound like you had a death wish. Hell, you probably did… but there was something calling you to go back to investigate that man, and you’d be damned if you didn’t listen. 

Letting the water drip down your body as you leave the tub, you dry yourself off with a towel and pick out a dress. You went for something simple, as you needed to be able to move in case the worse happens and you get attacked by another animal. Or worse, if your new “friend” turned out to not be so friendly after all. 

You’re able to sneak your way through the guards again, and it was actually much easier this time. Turns out, your parents were away from the castle, meaning not as many guards stuck around to keep watch. 

“If I knew it was going to be this easy to leave, I would have snuck out before” You thought out loud in a quiet whisper. 

You find your way back to the forest and try your best to follow the path you remember going on the night before. You walk for a while before you see something of interest. 

Red blood stains paint the dirt coupled with scratch marks, no doubt from wolves. You look around your surroundings. While brighter now, they definitely looked familiar. There was no doubt, this was the place where your life nearly ended. 

So it wasn’t a dream. In your heart you already knew that, of course, the extra confirmation definitely helped. 

You think about your savior. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt to look for him, right? You look around once again, as if he would be standing in the same spot. You start to walk down the path further into the forest. You should be able to run into him eventually, right? Wait, why were you even looking for him? 

Against your better judgment, you call out to the stranger, “Um… excuse me sir but I just wanted to thank you for saving me last night”. Nothing. “If you can hear me please come out, I promise I mean peace”. Still nothing. 

After what felt like walking for hours, you nearly give up and decide to cut your losses and go home. That is, until you see a stone figure in the distance. Looking closer, you realize it’s a well. Curious, you walk towards it. Your fingers touch the rough stone of the abandoned well, and you wonder about the last time it was used. You decide to sit for a while and ponder near the spot. You think again about your marriage, and slowly begin to accept the reality of the situation. Hopefully, in the best case scenario, the Prince isn’t so bad. Hell, you’d accept halfway bearable. At least now, you know that when times get rough you’re able to go to the forest to think. 

You ponder a bit more and as you look down at the well, various things cross your mind. Whether they were good or bad, it didn’t matter to you. You were simply allowing your mind to roam wherever it saw fit. You were officially lost in thought. In fact, you were so lost in thought, that you didn’t even notice the giant form standing just behind you…

“Are you stupid?” You hear a gruff voice coming from behind you. 

Shocked, you forget that you’re near a well and jump up, screaming whilst you flail your arms out. This causes you to lose your balance and you fall into the well, causing you to scream even louder. You brace for your fall but it never comes. Instead, you find yourself caught between four large arms. 

“‘Tch, idiot” you hear, though you’re just glad that you’re alive. You’re brought back down to the glorious land, and you’re able to look up at the man in front of you. Looking at him, you see the obvious signs of your previous savior. The iconic four arms and four bright red eyes. Though, now that he’s in broad daylight, you notice some more things. Like the markings on his arms, his slicked back pink hair and a large mouth directly where his stomach is. Forget about children’s books, this man was unequivocally a monster. Though, you couldn’t help but think about how handsome he looked despite this. A stoic expression painted his face, despite showing clear annoyance toward your antics. Yes, handsome was the word to describe him. 

“Don’t stare. It’s weird” he says.

Then again, maybe you simply haven’t met many men. 

You’re about to respond with a comment of your own, when you feel a sharp sting on your leg. Wincing, you look down and you see blood trickling down your thigh. You must have gotten scratched while falling down the well. 

“Ow…” you say quietly, lifting up your dress. The man heard your pains, but didn’t pay it much mind. Rolling his eyes, he simply turned around to another side of the woods and said “You’ll live”. 

“Wait!” you reach out, grabbing at his clothes. This annoyed the man and he attempted to pull your hand away, you don’t budge though. “It hurts!” you yell out at him. He continues to try to get your hand off of him, and he yells out, “Not my problem!”. Finally, he’s free from your hand and pushes you away, causing you to fall backwards. “Owww…” you say, again. Today was certainly not your lucky day.

He’s about to walk away from you when he turns around for a second. Looking at you, he saw your pathetic display, covered in dirt, crouching down afraid to touch your minor cut. It would be funny if it wasn’t so sad. Groaning, he walks toward you and picks you up, easily carrying you over his shoulder. “Hey what are you–” 

“Quiet.” he says, “Don’t make me regret this, brat”. You do as he says. You weren’t afraid of him anymore. How could you be? If he wanted to kill you, he had several chances to do so. Hell, there were multiple instances when nature nearly did the job for him. So you decide to trust him as he carries you through an unknown part of the forest. 

He places you down inside an open cave. Based on the various items around, you assume it’s where he lives. You look around and see makeshift weapons and pieces of cloth sprawled about in the area. It definitely could be better, but it was pretty good for someone who lived in the wild. 

You see him as he takes one of the clean pieces of cloth and pats it on your leg. It stung like hell every time he padded the white cloth onto your skin, but he didn’t seem to care much about your tiny reactions. After a bit you both settle into a quiet, almost intimate feeling as he caresses your thigh, trying to clean the blood off your leg. You were used to getting taken care of, but this, this felt different. 

You take your chance to speak. “Thank you, again…” you say. 

He doesn’t say anything back, only muttering a soft “Whatever” to himself as he continues patting the area.

You continue to try to initiate small talk, saying things like “So… this is your house, how nice” and “The woods are lovely aren’t they?”. This doesn’t earn much of a reaction from him, and it seems that the small smidge of a reaction that you do see, is one of annoyance. You decide to give up, but not before asking him one more question. 

“What’s your name?” you ask. 

He stops for a bit, hesitating, and you assume that he won’t answer, when he says “Ryomen”. 

Pleasantly surprised that he actually answered you, you excitedly ask “Ryomen what?” with a smile. 

He gives a short groan in annoyance and mumbles “Ryomen Sukuna” as he rolls his eyes, still trying to focus on padding down your wound. You no longer mind the pain, instead you’re happy that you’re able to get him to open up. 

“That’s a nice name” you compliment him, and he just gives a low hum in response. 

He finishes patching you up and begins to walk away as he stands, “You’re a big girl, now scram” he tries to be intimidating, though it no longer works on you. You thank him profusely and it seems to do nothing but make him more annoyed as he focuses on anything else but you. 

“Oh I have one more question!” you say as you stand up from your spot. 

“‘Course you do…” he says, you take this as an invitation to keep talking, and you ask him the one question that’s been bugging your mind, “How did you know I lived in the castle?” 

He simply looked at you and gave you a blank stare and said, “You’re asking me that when you go out dressed like… that? It’s obvious”. He looks you up and down as he says the words, causing you to look down at your choice of wear. Oh yeah… of course, you couldn’t hide it if you tried. Though, it at least helped bring you home. Getting your answer, you simply walk away, not wanting to press him further. 

His peace doesn’t last long, however, as you come back. Then, you come back again, and again, and again. 

It started with you bringing a basket of food to him. Something simple, such as some fruits. “I wanted to give you this to thank you for all you’ve done” you said. When you offered him the basket he took the food and left, planning to leave you alone. He didn’t even say a word to you, let alone a thank you. Somewhat offended, you yelled out a “Wait!”, which caused him to turn around. “I thought… we would be eating together” you said, looking down at the floor.

He stopped for a moment before sitting down, grumbling as he took an apple and bit on it. Well… bit is an understatement, he absolutely ravaged the apple, leaving not even the core. 

“You… you eat the core?” you ask him, genuinely concerned for what it might do to his health. 

He just looked at you, chewing on a seed, and said “I don’t waste food” before going back to abusing the rest of the fruits on the basket, all while you stay content with your single bunch of grapes. 

Outside of that short conversation, you two don’t speak to each other. When he finished eating, Sukuna got up and left, not even uttering a single goodbye. However, this was far from the last time you two spoke. 

Every day, you brought him food from the castle. Every day, you insisted that he sit with you to eat it. You weren’t exactly sure why you did all this, maybe it was an excuse to get away from the castle, or maybe you were simply intrigued by the man you visited. You two hardly ever spoke at first, how could you? Sukuna hated your presence, not for any particular reason, he just wasn’t very fond of humans. However, he loved food more than he hated you, so he never complained and was never outright malicious. 

One time though, after a few weeks of you two meeting, he snapped and said, “Stop coming here, brat”. You looked up at him, the bread you brought in hand, and gave him a simple “No”. This response caused him to growl under his teeth, but he didn’t push it. He didn’t want to admit it, but he started to enjoy being around you. It sucked being alone, and most people didn’t want to go near him. Plus, the small number of people who were brave enough to face him were in it to kill him, so he was willing to accept having you around, as simple minded as you were. Finishing the food, he got up as usual, except this time he said “You’re lucky this food is good”, before walking away. 

That small interaction seemed to open the doors for you two to get closer. Eventually, you two began speaking as you ate. Mostly small talk, sometimes you’d touch on your arranged marriage, but it was a topic you wanted to avoid as much as possible. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to mind brushing over it. 

Even after you two ate, you continued to speak to each other. Mostly walking around the forest, you would ask him about the various plants and wildlife. Something that he seemed highly knowledgeable about, always diligently explaining everything around the forest to you. 

You two sometimes met at night as well. You would steal some food from dinner (something that allowed you to actually look forward to the occasion) and bring it for the two of you to have. While eating, you would look up at the stars together, basking in the light they give off. 

“I can feel you staring at me” you say, looking at him through the side of your eye. He doesn’t let up, in fact, he grows more confident, turning his entire body around to face you. “Sorry, I just couldn’t help but notice something about your face”. You turn around to face him, curious about what he might say. “I swear to God if you say something stupid I will personally poke one of your eyes out–” 

“Your eyes shine more than the stars do,” he cuts you off. You look at him, his face is as calm as it usually is, he’s serious. You aren’t sure what to say, and you stutter around your words, until you hear a hearty laugh and Sukuna’s face scrunched up in a chuckle “Oh man– I can’t believe that corny ass line got you… you really do need to go outside more” he says as he laughs some more, crossing his four arms over his head. Your face is flushed and red from embarrassment and you tackle the man “Ryomen Sukuna!” you yell out, “That’s it, I’m poking your eyes out!”. Sukuna is able to fight you off with his superior strength, and when your embarrassment cools down, you’re able to have a bit of a laugh as well. 

“Well lookie here…” Sukuna says, looking down at you as you struggle being tangled up between some long plants. “Ain’t this a sight to see… so early in the morning too” he chuckles. The food you brought him for the day now on the floor, you continue struggling before you yell out “Ryomen stop staring like a weirdo and come help me!”. He laughs again and goes “I don’t know… there’s no more food so I can just leave you here” he pretends to turn around to leave you. You know he isn’t being fully serious, but in frustration you swing around and begin yelling his name some more. “Okay fine, fine…” he says, as he cuts the plants with his nails “Waitwaitwaitwait—” is all you say before you fall to the floor. It wasn’t a huge fall, but it was enough to hurt. “Ow…” you say, your arms absorbing most of the fall, and thus, most of the pain. Sukuna keeps laughing, “Oops…Hahahaha” he smiles as you stare daggers at him. 

You’re able to get up on your own and pat most of the dirt away. “You know man I’m not really in the mood today” you say as you try your best to look a little more proper. “Oh? What’s wrong?” he asks, still half-joking based on his tone. Still, you answer seriously “I’m meeting my husband today… my family’s holding some stupid party”. You say it like it isn’t a big deal, but Sukuna can read in your face that the thought seriously upsets you, so he lightens up a bit. 

He pats you on the head with one of his hands and goes “Come on… it’s about time I give you some food, yeah? Let’s go hunting”. He begins running, slow enough for you to follow, but fast enough for you to have to catch up with him. You mindlessly follow him before going “Wait… hunting? Wait, I don't wanna– RYOMEN!”. 

Ballroom music plays as you stand amongst the crowd of people, trying your best to keep up appearances. This was technically your engagement party, but with how far you and your future husband seem to be from each other, no one would be able to guess. That, and your “fiancé” flirting with every woman he could lay his eyes upon. Every woman but you, of course. You didn’t miss the way his face dropped the moment he laid his eyes on you. You didn’t mind this, as you weren’t too pleased with his appearance either. Still, the least he could do is suck it up and take it for the day the way you were expected to. Alas, it seems his favorite course of action for the night was to humiliate you by having a public display of his flirtation before you two are even married.

You try to use this to your advantage, “Look at him, mother…” you say to the woman standing next to you, she’s giving out her brightest and fakest smiles to all the guests “You can’t possibly expect me to marry him” you tell her. “You can and will…” your mother says through smiling teeth, she isn’t done though, she never is “If you took better care of yourself, maybe his behavior would be different” she drops her act for a moment, before going back to greeting guests. 

You let out a sigh of sadness and anger, everything felt horrible. Suddenly, the dress you’re wearing is a tad too tight, the music feels a bit too loud, and there’s too many people. Your mother’s comments as she watches your future husband embarrass you doesn’t help either. You need to leave, and you need to leave fast. You somehow find a way to slip out of the party without many people noticing and try to make your way to the only place you felt safe– the forest. 

You somehow make it to Sukuna’s resting spot despite the way you’re dressed. Your feet have blisters all over from your shoes but that doesn’t matter. You’re finally safe here… 

Sukuna immediately notices you and is prepared with a joke, “Woah who let the–”

“Shut up” you cut him off. You knew his comments were mostly in pure fun, and you enjoyed them for the most part, but today was not one of those times. 

Sukuna understood this, and simmered down. “Bad day?” he asks, though he already knew the answer. 

Tears stinging your eyes, you simply look down at the floor and nod. Sukuna pats down a spot next to him and goes “Tell me about it”. 

You take the invitation, and tell him all about your woes. The full story of your forced marriage, the pressure to have an heir, the humiliation you felt as you saw the man you were publicly marrying flirt with as many women as he could right in front of everyone. You were like a river on a broken dam. 

Sukuna didn’t say anything until you were finished, and even once you were, all he said was “Man, what assholes”. It seemed like a mindless comment, but to hear someone else finally say it was enough for you. You two sat in silence for a while before Sukuna looked at you and went “You don’t deserve any of that, I’m sorry”. He was actually fully serious for once. You two locked eyes for a while, not saying a word. You took a while to study his face. You realized this while first meeting him, but it really hit you now. His ever calming facial expressions, the way his eyes looked at you, the way his hair was perfectly slicked back, it was without a doubt, he was devilishly handsome. 

You kissed him. You weren’t sure why. Maybe it was frustration from this terrible day and you weren’t thinking straight, or maybe, just maybe, it was something more. Sukuna seemed shocked from the sudden kiss, but he held no complaints as he kissed you back. Opening your mouth, both your tongues intertwined for some time… a long time, before both of you pulled back for air, with only the string of saliva connecting your two lips serving as proof of what you did. 

Forget not thinking straight, this was the clearest your mind had been for a while. You reach your hand out toward his groin, he knew what you were trying to ask him… but still, you go “Please?” as you rub him through the thin cloth. He’s hard. 

Thankfully, he keep you waiting, and he stood up as you got on your knees. Before he let you pull down his clothing though, he said “Don’t be too shocked at what you see, alright?”. You simply nod, not understanding what he meant at first. However, pulling down his thin robes, you came face to face with exactly what he meant as two, almost comically large, penises slap against your face. You stare at him wide-eyed for a moment before you fully digest what’s in front of you. It should’ve been obvious, really. He had twice as many of almost every feature on his body, why wouldn’t he have two cocks?

Fully composed now, you take your tongue and drag it across his bottom shaft, licking all the way up to the tip of his dick. You try your best to suck as far down as possible while also jerking off his top shaft to keep your attention at both. Sukuna seemed pretty happy with this treatment, as you hear various moans and groans from the man standing above you. You try your best to interchange your mouth between his two cocks, trying to find just the right spots for his pleasure. You’re able to get his cock even deeper down your throat with Sukuna’s help, as he brings his hand to your head and begins fucking your mouth.

“D-Damn… Hah… You learn this in the castle?” he laughs in between his moans. You glare up at him, though all you can really do is give him an angry groan with his dick stuffing your mouth. This doesn’t deter him however, as he feels your mouth’s vibrations throughout his cock. Still, he sees your angry face as you suck him off, so he smiles and says a small “Sorry… hehe” as he pulls your mouth off his dick. 

You pant for a while, saliva coating both your face and his dicks. He lets you rest for a bit but not before bending you over. “There we go,” he says, as he rips the fabric of your dress from your body. You don’t care though, you didn’t care for anything else anymore, you just needed him inside of you and you needed it quick. He aligns his bottom cock with your pussy, but he doesn’t move. You try to move back, but he keeps your hips still to stop your movement. “R-Ryomen… what are you doing?” you ask, halfway begging for him to just put it in. 

He chuckles for a bit before he tells you “I want you to beg for it” as he rubs his tip against your slick folds. 

Right. 

He might be horny right now, but he’s still the same asshole. 

You play along, willing to basically do anything to get him inside you. You go “P-Please?” in the softest voice you could. This wasn’t satisfactory for Sukuna, however, as he slaps you ass and says “You can do better than that! Come on– try harder”. 

You’re getting frustrated, and you had half a mind to force his dick inside yourself, but with his hands still on your hips, you just keep begging “Please please Ryomen, please put your dick inside of me…please pleas– ahh!” 

He slammed his full length inside of you all at once, shocking you as your body tries to quickly get used to having him inside of you. “Ryomen! That was mean!” you squirm out, looking at him from behind you. He looked back at you and went “Shh… I’m sorry, it’s okay though, yeah?” he smiles softly as he begins to slowly thrust in and out of you. “It doesn’t hurt too bad, right?” he asks you, and you nod in approval, silently asking him to go faster. Almost as if he could read your mind, his thrusts get faster, and he goes “Yeah… Let’s go give those assholes the heir they want so bad, yeah?” he laughs as he abuses your pussy with his dick. 

He flips you around after a while, and you’re able to face him as he fucks you. You looked down at where your genitals met and saw as the dick that wasn’t inside of you stood resting on top of your body, almost as a way to show how deep in you he was, as if you couldn’t already feel it. It also rubbed against your clit every so often as Sukuna continued thrusting. You began to jerk him off as he thrusted against you. In and out, in and out, you were in bliss, it felt perfect, it was absolutely perfect. 

Perfect. That was the word Sukuna kept repeating as he kept fucking you, almost as if he wasn’t absolutely ruining you. No man was going to ever match him, you knew this just by feeling him. Still, he kept on going on about how perfect you were “You and this perfect fuckin’ pussy, hah, it’s going to be the end of me” he says as his thrusts get sloppier and faster. He’s close. It’s okay though, you were as well. 

Both of your moans and skin slapping against skin are the only things that can be heard as you both came. Both of his cocks came simultaneously, with one spraying cum all over your body as the other coated your insides. You were unequivocally his now, but that was okay, everything was okay. You were too fucked out to care about anything anymore, the world seemed so small now that you felt this pleasure.

You're getting dizzy, and your vision slowly goes black as you pass out from exhaustion. 

When you came to, you found yourself back in your room wearing a nightgown. You don’t recall ever coming back, so he must have brought you back on his own and changed you. You would have thought it was all a hazy wet dream, but looking at your night stand, you saw the little bit of ripped fabric from last night’s dress. Definitely not a dream. 

“You’ve embarrassed us!” your mother’s yells boom throughout the throne room. Turns out, going missing at your own engagement party is a big no-no to a lot of people. Your mother goes on and on about how no one was able to find you, and how you seemed to vanish out of thin air. How guards looked everywhere throughout the castle to no avail until someone found you sleeping in your room. 

“Thankfully…” your mother sighs, “The Prince is willing to give you another chance, and is still going to marry you”. 

Your stomach boils with rage at this, they weren’t worried at all! They just cared about the marriage, once again. With all the might in your soul, you yell out a big “No!” toward your parents. This shocks the King and Queen, and the latter slowly walks toward you, going “No? What do you mean…no?”. 

You stutter for a bit, before you go, in the bravest voice you could, “I…I’m not going to marry him”. 

SLAP. 

Your mother strikes you across your face before she turns around, almost as if she’s too disgusted to even look at you. As if you said something so treacherous. She doesn’t say anything, but calls for the guards. As they grab at your arms she goes, “Make sure she doesn’t leave the room, use any force necessary”. This makes your eyes go wide. The marriage was one thing, but not being able to leave was another. “Wait–Wait no…” you yell out, struggling against the guards “Stop! Mom! Stop them! Wai–”.

The doors slowly close in your face as you see your mother walk back to her throne. You continue to try to struggle against the guards to no avail, they throw you into your room and slam the door shut. You attempt to climb down the window but you see the guards posted out there as well. They must have realized what was going on you thought.

You begin to sob. Your first thoughts are of Sukuna. What’s going to happen now? You think back to all your memories of the past few months together, how you felt happy. It wasn’t the fake, saturated, happiness you were used to in the castle, it was real, and you might never get the chance to feel it again. 

Weeks pass…though they feel more like years. You spend your days looking out the window toward the forest, you think of Ryomen and wonder how he must be. You think of your last day together, how you never even said goodbye. Every so often you see him in the distance, and you wave to each other, but even he notices the guards by your window, you see a faint sadness in his face. It was alright, these brief few seconds waving to each other was enough to keep you sane at least, and you needed it as your wedding day inched closer and closer. 

On your wedding day, you saw yourself in the mirror. You looked beautiful, wearing a gorgeous white dress and a tiara filled with what seems to be a thousand jewels. Though, it’s hard to truly look at yourself and not feel the least bit upset. The jewels… They looked like the stars. You remember the time you and Sukuna laid under those very same stars, and sadness once again paints your face. 

You dreaded this day, but now that it actually came, you don’t feel many feelings toward it. You only feel numb as you try to dissociate as much as possible. You simply try your best to get the day over with, holding out hope that after the day is over, your restrictions are lowered and you’re able to sneak out into the forest again.

Making your way to the altar, you face your husband. He looks bored as ever, clearly wanting to do this as much as you did. You were okay with this, this means that he wouldn’t bother trying to find out your whereabouts if you suddenly disappeared in random spurts. As the marriage ceremony began, you zoned out. As they go through the traditions, you’re simply thinking about all the things you’d do if you’re finally freed. That is, until you hear the head guard interrupt the ceremony. 

“Apologies for the intrusion, but my men and I have a special gift for the newly-wed royals…” as he says this, the gates open showing a group of guards, and they’re dragging… no. 

“Behold! The four-armed beast! Can you all believe he was sitting right by the castle… how stupid of him to believe he wouldn’t be caught by our men”. 

The audience gasps as Sukuna struggles against his chains, the two of you lock eyes. If he weren’t in such danger right now, you would run to him in an instant to hold him close, making sure to never let go. 

Looking at the Prince, the guard asks “How does the future King feel about slaying this monstrous beast?” 

Shit. Fuck. 

You needed to think fast, you had to somehow stop this from happening. The Prince accepts the offer with a sinister smile, and he reaches for his sword as Sukuna continues to struggle. In your panic, you grab the sword of one of the guards and stab the Prince directly in the chest.

Blood trickling down his chest… he looks at you, no… he glares at you. Everyone stops for a moment in shock, as if this was the last thing any of them ever expected to happen. Suddenly, someone yells “TREASON!” pointing at you, and guards begin to surround you. Taking advantage of the messy situation, Sukuna is able to break free from his chains and run to grab you. Fighting off guards, you and Sukuna run as fast as possible to get away from the crowd.  

You’re both somehow able to outrun the people, mostly thanks to Sukuna’s speed, but this doesn’t stop people from trying to chase you both. Looking behind you for a quick second, you see nothing but a crowd of people yelling with weapons. Wanting to get away at any cost, you followed Sukuna into the shadows of the forest. 

Despite making it to the forest, you two continued running as fast as you could to the opposite direction from the kingdom. Thankfully, Sukuna’s stamina seemingly never runs out, and he’s able to run far. You two only stop after what feels like hundreds of miles, and you aren’t able to hear any people nor see any outline of the kingdom. 

You’re not sure if it’s the adrenaline from running, or if it’s the fact that you two haven’t seen each other for weeks, but the first thing you two do when you stop is make out. The two of you haven’t even uttered a single word to each other yet, but that didn’t matter right now. All you needed was his touch, for him to fully mark you as his. 

He seamlessly ripped apart your wedding dress as he kissed you. The very same dress that served to show the ownership your future husband would have over you was now in pieces on the floor. 

He carefully dropped both of you down on that same floor as you both continued locking lips. Taking his own clothes off, he wrapped your legs around his hips as he aligned one of his cocks with your needy pussy. Wordlessly, he began thrusting against you like a man starved, and perhaps he was starved. He thought he was never going to see you again, now that he had you, he had no intentions of letting go.

You still had your tiara on, though not for long. As with every thrust of his hips the tiara slowly slipped away. Eventually, it fell off with a loud clunk on the floor. This didn’t deter either of you, though, nothing could deter the two of you at this point. 

You continued holding him tight while moaning and giving him sloppy kisses until at one point, you felt something wet rubbing against your clit. Confused, you look down and see his stomach mouth in its full glory, its long tongue flicking against your clit over and over, making a moaning mess out of you. You held Sukuna tighter, making sure to not abandon his other cock and kept jerking him off as he went in and out of you.

“I missed you” is the first thing he says to you in between the pants of exhaustion and pleasure. You moan at him to let him know you heard. Looking at your face, he notices tears coating the corners of your eyes. Still feeling him in your guts and your emotions all over the place, you try your best to choke out a sentence, “I— I thought you were going to die” you finally begin crying out, fully digesting the terrible situation you two were in just a few moments ago. 

“Shh…” Sukuna coos, holding you tight “I looked for you at your window every day, you saw that, right?” He asked you, and you nodded, holding him even tighter. 

“Every. Damn. Day” he says, thrusting in your pussy in between each word. “I couldn’t believe that fucker was going to be married to you” he scoffs, looking away for a moment before looking back at your face “Pissed me off”. Still lost in pleasure at the combination of his lower tongue and dick, you aren’t able to respond.

He doesn’t mind this though, as his thrusts simply get even faster and even more desperate. He’s close, and you were too. “You’re mine… only mine” he growls in your ear as he cums all over your body once again. You follow suit not far after, still the same mess you were before.

It was in this bliss that he said it, the words that you both already had at the tips of your tongues…

“I love you” Sukuna whispered into your ear. He whispered it so softly, in fact, that you might have missed it if you weren’t paying attention. You grab his face and cup his cheeks, looking at the gorgeous man in front of you, and with all the love in your heart, you say it back “I love you too”. 

He let out a sigh of relief at your words, as if he almost didn’t expect you to say them, and touched your lips with his own once again. “You’re mine” he repeats, and you had no intention of proving him wrong.

The next few hours are spent with the two of you cuddling on the forest floor together and giving each other sloppy kisses. You knew in your heart at that moment, holding Sukuna’s large body against your own, that you had no intention of ever going back to that cold and lonely castle, and Sukuna wasn’t going to let you go either, with his four muscular arms holding you against him as you both laid on the floor.  

Once you both cooled down, you looked down awkwardly at your naked body. Sukuna noticed and asked what was wrong. Looking down at your wedding dress, you go “Uhh… those were my only clothes”. Sukuna chuckles, and picked up a ripped up piece of fabric, tying it around you to make a new makeshift “dress”, “There ‘ya go, perfect” he pecks your lips as he gives you a toothy grin. You both simply laugh and you lean into his arm. 

“Well… what do we do now?” Sukuna asks you, he was willing to do anything that you wanted. Hell, he’d run thousands more miles to the edge of the Earth for you if you really asked him to. You think for a moment, before going “Well I can’t go back now… I’m probably charged with treason.. Haha”, you say half-jokingly, though you most definitely would be dead if you went back. 

So… the two just kept walking, camping out in different spots of the forest. Thankfully, Sukuna had great survival skills when it came to this, and you turned out to be a quick learner when it came to having to live in the wild. 

Eventually, you two stumbled upon an old abandoned cottage, and were able to live there permanently after fixing it up a bit. At first, you two were worried at the prospect of people possibly coming around, but that fear disappeared as the days went on. You only had each other in these deep woods. Though, that was all either of you truly needed in this world. 

He was a monster. Though, at this point… you were probably one too. 

You never did find out what happened to your kingdom after you ran away. It no longer mattered though, as you were now finally free to live life on your own terms. 

There were no more duties to attend to, no Kings and Queens to please, no marriage to be forced into, all that was left to do was live Happily Ever After. 

–

A/N: I poured out my soul to this story so thank you so much for reading :,) 

[uplatterme]

false god

—sub!dainsleif/dom!amab!reader, priest!reader | reader is called ‘father’, throatfucking, cockstepping, first half is plot and then the other is filth.

—and after posting about writing for dain since january, i actually finally finished one for him!

This isn’t the first time that such a thing had happened to the Bough Keeper.

Such a thing was, accidentally teleporting himself to a place he didn’t mean to, partly due to exhaustion and sleepless nights.

It was often like these that the immortality cast upon him mocked him more than anything. 

Droplets of water started to fall onto his hair, then eventually onto his body. He stares into the dark sky, the coldness of the rain bringing more comfort than it does harm.

Dainsleif sighs, and instead of teleporting away to his right destination, he starts to walk and explore this newfound place.

There isn’t much to say about where he’s landed himself, and frankly, he’s thankful for that. Silence is a gift for him nowadays and even when he’s isolated, it’s rare that he isn’t plagued by awful memories that keep him from just closing his eyes for longer than a few minutes.

His slow steps are halted though, when he sees that he has brought himself in front of a very peculiar building. The rain continues to soak his body as the man stares at the white architecture and the statue that is displayed in front.

He chuckles. Of course, it couldn’t be that easy. His luck had never been the one to land on his side, he didn’t know why he expected otherwise.

It’s quite big for a chapel, especially since he doesn’t recognize the figure in front. Still, it’s one of a god’s, nonetheless. He supposes he shouldn’t be surprised considering the lengths that devotees had gone to.

His curiosity gets the best of him when he goes nearer the said building, wanting to examine the sculpture. However, before he could even get a closer look, the wooden entrance opens.

The Khaenri'ahn’s first instinct is to transport himself away but finds that to be useless as he meets the eyes of another. What he didn’t expect next, is genuine worry.

“My goodness! Are you alright?” 

He almost gets confused as to why one would react in such horror. He doesn’t have any blood on him, does he?

Dainsleif looks down, not wanting to traumatize a random stranger…and discovers that there’s nothing wrong with him?

He lifts his head back up, only to find you nowhere near the doors of the chapel. He wonders where you are for a quick second until he feels something warm covering his body.

“I hope my robe will make do…Come on, get inside. You must be cold.” His reluctance is evident in his face but before he can even say anything, he’s pushed inside the chapel, much to his distaste.

Him stepping inside such a place was too much for him already that he forgot the fact that he’s wearing a robe, one that he assumed was no ordinary one.

Dainleif wants to take it off and so he tries to, at least.

“Keep it. I apologize I don’t have any spare clothes at the moment.”

He really does not want to wear a priest’s robe. 

“Did you come here for the mass? I’m afraid it ended an hour ago…Ah, but you can still stay until the rain stops.” You offer generously.

“No. I just happened to be passing by.” He explains.

He watches as your mouth gapes, looking for the words to say after you’ve just brought him in here out of his will.

“That makes sense…I was wondering why I haven’t seen you before. Not that it matters, you can still stay. The Chapel of our God is glad to help any troubled souls.”

He takes offense at that. 

“Troubled, you say? That’s quite a big assumption of a man you’ve just met.” His tone is as monotone as ever, yet that doesn’t hide the disdainful look that lingers in his bright eyes.

You muse.

“Ah yes, a non-troubled person that enjoys looking gloomy and letting the rain pour all over them.”

Dainsleif bites his tongue at that.

“I’ll show you around.”

While it does interest him that this chapel worships a god that isn’t of the seven, that doesn’t mean that he wants to learn more about a dead god who was defeated in the archon war just like the others. Although he presumes that the way you tell of their tales makes it somewhat bearable.

Even if it’s not what he expected.

It’s not as overwhelming as he had thought, but perhaps that was due to the lack of nuns he usually sees when it comes to churches.

“Is there something wrong?” You ask fondly, stopping your rambling about your said god just to listen to him.

“Does this place have many attendees?”

“Not quite…but it’s a lot if you consider they’re followers of a God who isn’t one of the seven.”

Frankly, Dainsleif doesn’t get it. It’s not as if all these masses you lead would ever lead to something else. It’s just wasted hard work, if he’s to be brutally honest.

He can tell that there’s a lot of admiration and work you have put into this, but for what reason? What reason is there to keep spreading the word of someone you haven’t even personally met?

Would your faith waiver if knowledge of your god performing deemed evil acts is brought upon you?

“Should we continue the tour?” You ask.

He politely shakes his head, thoughts still lingering in his head.

“We must adhere to these values that our God has specified in their writings…that our way of living as a mortal is something that should be celebrated and not frowned upon…”

The non-believer sits at the last row of the chapel, somewhat half-heartedly listening to your words as you read passages from a book in your hands.

He only watches, observing the entire view in front of him. How people reply in unison whenever you say a certain phrase, an exchange that he finds to be quite strange. 

The mass isn’t that long, yet you still manage to lead that hour with grace, making sure that every part of it goes well without any fault.

How you stand to the side, leaning on the podium with a smile as everyone sings along with the choir.

Dainsleif’s eyes meet yours and he sees you mouth a greeting to him.

…He supposed that he can stay for a minute when everyone has gone.

He sees you grin as you start walking towards him, your robe neat and tidy as ever.

Surprisingly, he speaks first.

“I’m surprised you still have a recollection of me.”

“It’s only been a few months.” You reply, your voice soft and soothing, unlike the way you spoke as you preached earlier.

Most people would choose to forget. “You’re different in person than you are earlier.”

“Perhaps.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence in the chapel, the mosaic windows dim the bright sunlight from the outside but that only results in the colored glass reflecting stunningly on your face.

He takes the initiative and speaks again.

“Is it because I’m not a follower?”

Your breathing catches on his ear. “Maybe.”

He wonders if you know of his lineage and if that’s the reason why you had kept an eye out for him, suspicions rousing through your brain.

“Father.” The change of tone to formality shocks you a little that you were forced to question why he’s suddenly calling you that.

Your awkward chuckle echoes through the building. “What are you calling me that for?”

“Just seeing if your attitude would change. If you’re truly as honest as you present yourself to be.”

You click your tongue. “Is there a reason you came here?”

There it is. A snarky tone. He knew he was right to come back here. 

Why was he sent here before? Was someone playing tricks on him? The Abyss? The gods? He knows there has to be a reason for him being teleported here that day.

“May I ask how someone becomes a member of your church, Father?”

He hears you sigh deeply. Why?

Aren’t more members what you want and need?

“If that’s how you want to do this then…I’ll amuse you. Follow me, troubled one.”

Dainsleif’s fists close at the nickname.

He’s brought to a room that you once showed him the previous time that he was here. You never explained what exactly this room was for as he left just before you got to.

There’s a small fountain, clear and blue flowing through it.

“This is a small tradition we have. It’s based on one of the writings that…you haven’t read, but that’s alright. It’s not that difficult to follow.” You start to explain.

“It’s a symbol of starting anew, to wash yourself of the regrets you have.” 

“And if I do not have any?” He questions.

“You do. Everyone does, even Gods.”

“You think gods regret the things they’ve done.” His patience is thinning inch by inch. He almost laughs at the ridiculousness of that sentence.

“That I do. According to one of the passages that—”

“How exactly do I know whether what you’re saying is genuine or just out of a damn book?” He interrupts.

You stare at him with a disapproving look. “You’re deflecting.”

“Excuse me?” 

“What is it that troubles you?”

Nothing. He’s fine. He’s done with everything, there’s no use in pondering over what could’ve and should’ve been.

“Don’t act as if you’re superior to me.” He says, visibly upset.

“So much for becoming a believer.” 

That’s when the grin is swayed off your face in just a few seconds as Dainsleif pins you to the wall, your head slightly tilted up as he grips tightly on your collar.

“Who sent you?” His enchanting eyes cross yours, not even a shade of fear in them.

“What exactly have you gone through that you think everything is out to get you?”

He stills at that. You’re not trying to push him off.

Instead, you’re conversing with him like he’s a lost lamb who’s unsure of where to go. An amenable priest who listens and asks.

He lets go. Your robe is now crinkled, and the mark of his fist is clearly evident.

You sit on the bench near the fountain, patting the empty space right next to it. Dainsleif refuses the offer, choosing to continue standing while he searches for the next words he’d like to say.

You smile.

“You don’t have to apologize or continue this. It doesn’t mean anything anyways if you don’t take it to heart.”

It’s such a strange sentence to hear from someone like you. You’re not..forcing him nor are you trying to sell him your ways by threatening him of what he may face if he doesn’t.

The Khaenri'ahn sighs, the words of apology already at the tip of his tongue.

“I’d prefer it if we were to continue.”

“You would?”

“I can still change my mind.” He jests, seeing you beam from ear to ear.

Dainsleif slowly walks towards the fountain, sitting beside you and laying his head down on your shoulder. The gesture is surprising to the priest but it isn’t turned away.

“I hope you’re quite ready, Father. This might take a while.” He says with his eyes closed.

“Confess your regrets, my troubled one.”

Eventually, it becomes a habit of his to visit you whenever he’s plagued with thoughts that make him anxious and question his choices.

And each time, you’re there to give advice. To lend a shoulder, and sometimes a little more than that.

He will never worship a god, but he’ll sure as hell worship you.

Dainsleif always waits patiently in the last row, watching you and listening to how your voice sounded rather than the message you’re conveying.

It’s soothing, in a way.

He doesn’t say a thing and only waits as you walk down the aisle with a smile.

It’s a silent exchange.

You place your hand on his shoulder and Dainsleif rubs the side of his chin on your hand, his eyes shut. 

“Dainsleif.”

“Yes, Father?” He teases, a smirk forming on his face before opening his eyes.

Your fingers lift his head slightly before bending down to reach his soft lips. He doesn’t pull away, he presses them further as if it’s his salvation. 

It’s somewhat sick that he’s found comfort in someone like you. He contemplates whether he’s walking the path of failure that the gods have planned, if this whole thing will eventually turn over just to punish him even more.

In the end, it’ll all be his fault. He’s the one who revealed secrets that you’ve never asked for.

“You’re making that face again, Dain.” You speak.

“What face?”

“The kind you make when you’re overthinking things. The one I want to get rid of.”

Dainsleif reaches for your hand, asking even if he knows the answer. “Pray tell, how exactly?”

“It makes me wonder if it’s a turn on of yours to get fucked in a place of worship.”

“Like how it’s a turn on for you when I’m on my knees and calling you Father?”

You laugh, caressing his hair as you look down on him.

“You don’t even worship the God of this place.” He looks so sweet like that, his head between your legs. Such beauty ready to kneel for you and do whatever if you ask him kindly.

“What’s the need when I already worship you?” Dainsleif says and takes you in.

Dainsleif never imagined he’d gladly be spending his time inside of a chapel, right in front of empty seats where anyone can walk in through those wooden doors, acting as if the altar is your hips.

And yet he’s letting you use his mouth eagerly, so used to how you taste that sometimes he himself craves for it when you two are separated.

“That’s right, love. Just think of me.” 

He groans as you push further into his throat, his eyes wandering to you despite his breathing getting obstructed.

He loves the things you do. Whether it be hearing you talk so dearly to him, tugging his hair with the right amount of pull, or the way you fill his mouth nicely like this.

It’s yours.

The sound that escapes his throat when your foot presses directly on his crotch is loud and lewd, echoing through the empty chapel.

His cheeks lightly flush, grumbling something incoherent.

“Speak clearly, my lamb.”

He rolls his eyes at the mischievousness of your voice. You know he can’t, and yet you’re still asking him to do so.

He follows still, of course.

“M-Mo—ah!” 

Dainsleif chokes as he tries to speak.

“Too much for you?”

He shakes his head and tries again.

“Mow—Moah-”

It’s not working. He’s stuffed full to even say it.

“Come on,” Your foot steps on his cock again. “There’s another way to plead. I’m sure a smart devotee of mine can figure that out.”

His chest heaves, trying to calm his breathing from the pressure and whining as it stops.

That’s when Dainsleif moves of his own accord, taking you even deeper than you already were. You can feel the vibrations from when he slowly pants, breathing through his nose more so he won’t pass out.

He bats his eyelashes at you, with a face full of sin.

Tears are starting to form in his eyes.

Please.

Dainsleif gags on your cock again, moaning impurely when your foot begins to knead more aggressively on his pants.

Your shoe adds even more stimulation and his cock aches wanting, no, begging for a release.

“Such a sinful body, no wonder the gods haven’t been blessing you.”

Fuck.

He continues to whimper, sucking your cock needily and knowing you’ll stop if he doesn’t do well.

“You get on your knees to be a slut, I wonder if they’ve bruised already.”

They do. They always do when you fuck his throat like this.

His mind is hazy and he’s close, he’s so—

“Hmgh!—”

“Not yet. Be patient.”

His body wants to buck down when you remove the pressure just seconds before he cums, but your hold on his head keeps him from doing that and he’s left to whine painfully.

The tears in his eyes finally fall and he stares up at you to be merciful, to let him have this one since it’s been a month of waiting to finally have you get him off like this.

“You want it?”

He nods and whines, begging for you to hear him out.

“Alright.”

When he gets permission, he sobs out on your cock, cumming inside in his own pants and soiling the floor. You feel how warm his breath is, his body is tired and trembling, but he keeps trying to make you finish as if it’s the only thing he’s made for. Even if he’s barely doing it well, too drunk with his tongue tired already.

The sight of that is enough to get you off.

Dainsleif tries to swallow but he doesn’t do it fully, cum dripping down his chin and coughing on the amount he can’t.

He finds it a waste that he isn’t able to. He stares, wondering if he should clean it up.

“Dain, it’s fine. You did amazing.”

His heart softens.

“Let me help you out, love.”

His head rests on your lap, your fingers playing with his hair. A tradition that you two somehow have ended up doing each time you finish.

He thinks it’s sweet and funny that you act so soft despite the things you say when having sex.

“Tell me.” You say.

“Tell you what?”

“What’s bothering you?” You question.

Dainsleif only snickers at that.

It’s you, Father.

[thirstywoso]

LESSONS IN PHOTOGRAPHY

Jessie Fleming x Reader

A/N: a little short one that I wrote in an hour

W/C: 1k

Warnings: not really smut but a little suggestive and some masturbation so MDNI 18+

so if you're looking for hardcore smut this is not it

Will do a part 2 which will be actual smut if I get a request for it

After your girlfriend signed with the Thorns your life in London was uprooted and together you made the move to Portland.

You'd both been to the city on occasions in the past but after living in Portland for a month now yourself and Jessie realised neither of you had really explored the place you now called home.

Your girlfriend clad in some white shorts and a black tank top yourself in dark blue shorts and a loose fitting white shirt, you found yourself downtown with a checklist of places you "MUST" visit according to Jessie's teammate Sam.

No surprise to you, your better half had her camera hanging off of her shoulder with one hand in yours and the other holding a large cup of what she calls "liquid heaven"

As you wondered down the streets you noticed the way Jessie would stop occasionally, snapping photos of the roses, lining herself up to get the correct angles of the buildings she liked the look of. Jessie would spend sometime perfecting her shot at each place you went to.

Yourself a fan of history would read out facts from your phone about said buildings or architecture Jessie was capturing. Unbeknownst to you a few of those photos she captured were of you in deep thought or in awe of what you were looking at. You really were the perfect match.

Jessie loved her camera almost as much as you and was hardly seen without it. That being said one of the few things she loved more was capturing you, from every single angle.

She enjoyed capturing the way your lip would tuck between your teeth as you would concentrate on one of your crossword puzzles, the way that vein would pop out of your neck when you were frustrated with whatever had you occupied. She would never get sick of taking these photos, especially the ones capturing your smile and the warmth behind your eyes.

You'd never really known this about Jessie until the day was almost coming to an end and you'd caught her taking a photo of you. After questioning Jessie and adding slight pressure when she wouldn't tell you anything and mimicking zipping her mouth shut, locking it and throwing away the key. You finally broke her finding out all about Jessie's little habit profusely blushing as she told you.

Returning to the apartment later on that evening you has begged Jessie to show you the photos she'd taken of you. Opening her laptop you saw the folder titled 'My girl" and your heart swelled, then almost combust when you saw the number of photos in the album. 4,332 to be exact.

"Oh Jessie" you say looking at her

She returns your gaze nervously "too much?"

"You're perfect Jess" you say leaning in to kiss her.

Pulling away Jess can't help but look into your eyes as she fiddles with her fingers. "I have a question... well more of a request which I've kinda wanted to do for awhile"

She pauses for a breath unsure how to go on. "Go ahead?" You say anxiously waiting to see what the request was.

"Iwanttophotographyounaked" she rushes out, once noticing your confusion she repeats herself this time a little slower, taking a deep breath "I want to photograph you naked, if that's okay?"

"Yeah?" You question excitedly.

"Yeah"

After discussing how you were going to go about it Jessie led you into your shared bedroom. Kissing you before she helped you remove your clothes.

"Are you sure, if you want to stop we can at anytime"

"I'm sure" you confirm.

"I want you to lay on your side with your head propped up in your hand" she begins to direct you.

You do as she says and get into position, after a few clicks Jessie then asks you to change position. Repeating this for awhile as you pose in various ways for her, occasionally complimenting you, telling you how good your jawline looks or the way the light cascades down the swell of your breasts.

She couldn't help but be in awe of how beautiful you looked.

Getting more bold Jessie then started directing you to pose in some more compromising positions like with your head thrown back or your hands squeezing your chest.

You couldn't deny that it was turning you on being told exactly what to do by Jessie.

Eventually being more bold yourself you began to touch yourself for Jessie, the clicks of her camera becoming faster.

Your hand snakes between your legs finding your evident arousal.

You slid your fingers along your folds spreading your wetness, Jessie's mouth watering as she captured the way your sex glistened.

She made sure to take in the way you bit your lip, your legs as they spread wider, the way your hand furiously rubbed between your legs your finger tips as the swiped across your clit.

"Fingers inside" Jessie demands

You'd be a fool not to comply and with that two of your fingers are swallowed into your wanting pussy with ease.

You were embarrassingly wet but showing off for Jessie you didn't care.

"Curl those fingers baby I want to see the pleasure on your face"

Taking photos of every inch of you she couldn't get enough wanting to capture every single part of this moment.

After a few more directions from Jessie regarding position and how to touch yourself you were right on the edge.

Your girlfriend practically drooling as your face contorted in pleasure, snapping the pictures of your screwed up face as you came and the arousal spread across your thighs.

Taking your fingers and sucking them clean putting on a show for Jessie as she continued to snap away with her mouth agape.

"Fuck it" she groaned almost throwing her camera to one side as she pounced on you.

"I need to taste you"

Shoving your fingers covered in your slick into her mouth, her eyes roll back as she swirls her tongue around your digits releasing them with a pop.

"I think it's only fair I get to fuck you after that little show"

[sunny44]

All these years (Part 3)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Ex girlfriend! Reader

Warnings: slap, fights and maybe more things

Summary: Separated by a disagreement, Charles and Y/n meet again after years apart and all the feelings they had repressed come flooding back.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

My parents had already left for dinner at the Leclerc house and I was already showered and getting ready to order a pizza when the doorbell rang.

"I can't believe he really came." I said to myself and opened the door and saw Arthur standing there. “You really came here to get me. Seriously?”

"Of course I came, why didn't you came?"

"I don't want to see your brother, I didn't even want to come to the wedding so I wouldn't see your brother." He put his hand on his chest, feigning fake indignation. "I'm sorry but it's true and at the wedding I can still get away from him but there in your house with half a dozen people I can't."

"Y/n, he didn't even come, there was a problem with the plumbing in his apartment and the plumber couldn't fix it until today, so get dressed and let's go because my mother said I wouldn't have a wedding tomorrow if I didn't take you."

"Okay, let me just put some clothes on and fix my face." He agrees and I go to the bedroom.

I put on a simple black dress and sneakers, did a quick make-up just so I wouldn't look so bad and picked up my things.

I went downstairs and left my house accompanied by Arthur. As soon as we entered the house I could hear the laughter of my parents and his parents.

"Look who I brought!" he said, pulling me along.

"My God, you look beautiful." She says and hugs me. "How you've changed."

"Thank you, Mrs. Leclerc."

"It's just Pescale, darling." She smiles and runs her hand through my hair. "I missed you, it's been a while since you came to visit us, how is Milan?"

"I've missed you too and everything's fine, I've been promoted to head of the urban architecture sector."

"That's wonderful, I know how much you wanted that job."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why do you think?"

"That's great my love, I'm happy for you." My dad hugs me.

He always has a way of finding out about situations.

"Sorry I'm late, the plumber managed to get there early." he says as he walks in and stops as soon as he sees me there.

At that moment everything around me seemed to disappear except for him, it was the first time we'd seen each other in years, after all the best and worst moments of my life we were here.

Facing each other again.

"Hi darling, how are you?" My mom goes over to him and hugs him, and he takes his eyes off me.

"Hi Mrs. Y/l/n, I'm fine, how are you?”

"We're fine too." She smiles.

It had been years since I'd seen my mother smile like that, which made me roll my eyes.

"I thought you weren't coming." Lorenzo says, coming over.

"Actually, the problem was much smaller than it seemed and I managed to get the plumber to come early so everything was sorted. Where's Carla?”

"She's with her parents."

"Hi Y/n.”

"Charles."

"Greet him right Y/n."

"Don't push it, Mom."

"Well, shall we have dinner?" his mother says, changing the subject.

…

The only words we exchanged today were that greeting, then we distracted ourselves with other people on different subjects but always keeping a distance from each other.

"I think I'm going now," I said as I got up.

"Why don't you stay a little longer?" His mom asked.

"I really have to go; I haven't slept since I arrived early this morning, and I'm dead tired. I drove from Milan to here."

"Alright then, especially since tomorrow is the big day."

"We're leaving at 8 in the morning to go to the resort, okay?" Lorenzo said before I left.

"Well, in that case, I think it's best for all of us to go to sleep," Arthur got up from the couch.

"I'm going to stay around; I'm too tired to drive."

"Charles, your old room has your brother's things in it, so you can't sleep there."

"He can stay at our place." My mom said.

"Love, I..." my father tried to say it's a bad idea, but she obviously didn't care.

"Let's go, Charles, there's a spare room and no one will bother you there."

"That's great."

"Did you say something, Y/n?"

"I said 'that's great' in a very ironic way in case you didn't understand that as well."

I grabbed my phone and left there; I couldn't take my mother's jabs anymore or even look at him.

I took off my clothes and put on some pajamas, leaving the room to go to the bathroom and as I was about to open the door, Charles was coming out of it.

"Are you still going to use it?"

"Can you be less rude?"

"Are you going to use it or not?"

"No," he said and I went in.

I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and after going to the bathroom, I returned to the room, only to be faced with that jerk sitting on my bed.

"Excuse me, can you please leave?"

"We need to talk."

"We have nothing to talk about. You need to leave because I want to sleep."

"Please, love."

"Don't call me that. In fact, don't call me anything; forget that I exist."

"It's kind of hard to forget you." He looked me up and down with a malicious look, and I slapped him in the face. "What's your problem?"

"You're my problem, and you're a jerk, too." He laughed. "Look, we haven't seen each other in years, so pretend we never even met and leave me alone."

"I just want to apologize."

"And I don't want to hear it. Nothing you have to say changes what you told me years ago."

"I never meant to say those things."

"But you did, and the fact that you said them means that you considered them to be true, even if only for a moment." He fell silent. "You moved on with your life, and I moved on with mine. I don't want to go back to the past."

"I never wanted this to happen between us. You were the love of my life and I ruined everything out of selfishness. You would never have asked me to choose, and I had no right to do the same to you. I should have supported you as a decent boyfriend would, and all I did was say those horrible things to you." He spoke, and I could feel tears welling up in my eyes as I remembered. "I'm so sorry."

"I'm sorry, Charles, but your apologies doesn’t change anything. Your apologies don't change the fact that I feel disgust when I look at you. The anguish I feel in my chest when I see you is still the same, and that won't change."

"I understand, but I owed you an apology even if you don't accept it," I agreed. "Goodnight, Y/n."

He left and I locked the door. Those words were haunting my mind, and I swear if I weren't so tired, I would have stayed up all night thinking about it.

Tag list: @formulas-bitch @nuggetvirgo @lndonrris @cmleitora @janeholt3 @coffeewhore18 @blueflorals @agentadhd @eviethetheatrefreak @honethatty12 @lec-16 @ariamox @boherahpsody @ssararuffoni @leilani13gc @alldaysdreamer @minmira95 @dessxoxsworld @dessxoxsworld @vellicora @meadhbhcavanagh @viramila @lightdragonrayne @444elm0gizm0 @morenofilm @millinorrizz @leclercdream @buendiabebeta @ironmaiden1313 @julesandro @ssararuffoni @sialexia

[whereserpentswalk]

There are fallen angels all around your city. They don't do much, but they're always there. They're probably the most common cryptid in the city by far, they're almost a mascot for your city now. Your city used to be protected by actual normal angels, but history happened, now they're all fallen, their relationship with humanity forgotten, the ancient alliance lost. You don't think there was a betrayal, humanity just didn't need them anymore, they moved on, and now the fallen are just one of countless cryptids who landed here from another dimension.

Some look almost like humans, pretty humans, pretty humans wearing tattered and dirty clothing, but with wrong things about them, too many eyes, too many fingers, or just something off about them. Others look like their old angel selves more, but with time catching up to them, armor rusted, feathers unclean, the golden light turned cold and pale. Others look distorted, ghostly, like glitches in reality, sometimes monstrous and demonic in eldritch and terrifying ways. They say those were the most radiant before they fell.

Everyone kind of just knows to ignore them. Sometimes you'll see one, in an abandoned store, just on the street, in a subway station or an alleyway. But you know not to stop and stare like you would for other cryptids. They're common, and perhaps dangerous, at least unclean. And beyond that sad and unpleasant, and this twenty-first century world does not want to look at sad or unpleasant things. All the anger and little joy in the world is in a single cellphone, why bother taking a moment to pay respect.

There was that one time that one flew at you, with big, bloodstained wings, and a sword in its hands. It terrified you. But it was nothing, it didn't hurt you, you were just afraid. They set up traps for them, and places to make sure they don't rest. Little demonic sigils on pieces of architecture to make sure they don't perch there. Or pedants on shops so that they can never go in. Even a security camera, and a monster hunter's number, in case they're seen in the wrong place. They scare you sometimes, and to some creatures scaring a human is a crime that could cost them their lives. It's just how it is.

You gave some food to one, just some meat. She was small, would have looked like a pretty human girl wearing nothing but an old black coat she found, would have looked human if it wasn't for her featherless wings twitching in the rain. You let her come close to you. She didn't want to be touched. But you sung to her, and she liked your song. She told you that she used to sing before she was fallen, used to have shinning golden wings, and sing in the finest of restaurants. You let her sing back to you for a bit. You didn't ask her name. It would be weird to. But you hoped she was ok. Hoped she didn't pay the price of someone's fear.

You didn't see her again. But you think about her sometimes. It's silly to wonder if such a creature is ok. It's just a cryptid, the lowest and most forgettable of cryptids. It wouldn't affect you if anything happened, but you'd weep just to think of the possibility.

[mikanotes]

way home

xiao x gn!reader | 2.2k words

genre: established relationship, fluff, slightly suggestive

warnings: alcohol usage, kissing, reader is a bit drunk, reader is very affectionate, xiao is so in love help him, suggestive content (sorta!) takes place during the current event.

synopsis: xiao takes care of you and continuously prays to the archons to help him.

author's note: thanks to my best friend for the idea

Wangshu Inn has never seemed so tall.

You stare up at the intricate structure of the building and begin to think you’d be better off starting architecture studies by analyzing every detail around it than actually trying to get all the way up. Granted, there is an elevator, but you walked all the way from the Stone Gate to here, and you already feel like your legs will give out on you any time now.

So the very short walk to the elevator feels like it will seriously kill you, right now, and you swear it’s not the alcohol making it sound so dramatic. (It is.)

“You know drinking this much isn’t good?”

Before you can turn around, Xiao's arm is circling around your shoulders to support you and his free hand comes to hold your wrist, gently. “Let’s go.”

You don’t get time to actually reply before Xiao is teleporting you both to his room at the Inn. The Adeptus had considered simply going to the top balcony as he usually always did, but decided the height might do nothing good to your current state— If he was to judge by how wobbly your legs were as you walked up to the Inn.

Because he’d been watching, obviously.

He’d waited for you to call, sure, but eventually you seemed way too out-of-it for him to just stand by and no nothing but wait to hear his name on your lips.

��Xiao…”

And there it is.

He turns his face to look at you and, from so close, he can see the small details lost to the distance when he was watching earlier. Your eyes are half-lidded, lips a bit colored by the wine you’ve clearly been drinking. He brings a careful and hesitant hand up to your cheek and slowly presses against it, breathing out a bit shakily. It’s warm. Is that the alcohol? Or are you blushing?

“Xiao, you know…” you speak, and your words aren’t exactly slurred together but just enough to tell you’re not entirely sober. You bring a hand up to his shoulder, staring into his eyes with a look he’s struggling to find the words to describe— Though it’s painfully obvious.

He doesn’t want to think about it.

It’s a look of want.

“I missed you so much,” you sob, ever-so-dramatic. Your hand slides down his collarbone and your thumb runs back and forth against the fabric of his shirt. He has to take a breath. Your free hand moves to his face, not quite touching yet, just moving strands of his hair away with the tips of your fingers. “Ah… So pretty…”

Xiao is definitely going to die.

Your fingers move down to trace against the side of his face and his eyes flutter close for a moment, his own hand falling from your face and finding something to hold onto. He grasps at your shoulder, or the clothing covering it, his grip as weak as the rest of him. 

You make him feel so weak. He can’t bring himself to hate it, not even close. Not when it feels so surprisingly good.

“You should sleep.” he says, except his words come out much less firm than he’s intended them to, and much more breathy and compliant. He sighs softly, eyes closing again as he shakes his head, before finding any resolve he has in his heart and holding onto it for dear life. When he looks back at you, he has this strict look in his eyes. “Okay?” he questions, tone resolute but soft.

You pout a little bit, both hands moving to cling to the top of his clothing, now. Xiao takes a deep, trembling breath as he looks at you. Archons I beg of you, save me right now. 

“I’m not tired.” you sigh, almost sounding frustrated.

“The speed at which you got here begs to differ. Your legs are wobbly, surely you realized that much?“ he speaks quietly, raising his eyebrows. You scoff, and it’s a far cry from your usual annoyed scoffs. No, this is just… Cute. Xiao doesn’t realize he’s smiling before he finds you glaring at him. “What?” he deadpans, or tries to, because there’s a small hint of amusement betraying his tone. His gaze is fond as it meets your displeased one.

“You were watching me?” you say, pushing an accusatory finger into his chest. He gives you a look that says ‘Seriously?’ (you know he always does) but you do not relent. “Could’ve at least picked me up, then!”

“I didn’t think you’d appreciate being seen as weak enough to be carried all the way to your destination.”

“And you would be right!”

Xiao laughs just a little. “Then?”

You blink. “Um.” you look away, faltering. “I don’t know.”

“Mhm. You should sleep, see? You’re barely making any sense.” he says, holding your arm and squeezing it lightly. “Come on. I’ll lend you my bed.”

You groan in annoyance, head tilting back, before you reluctantly make your way over to the Yaksha’s bed. You plop down on the mattress, taking off your shoes slowly. Then your eyes widen as a thought crosses your mind, and you look up at him again.

“You claim an Adeptus doesn’t need sleep.”

Xiao is pouring water into a cup when he turns to look at you. His eyes narrow, trying to find where you could possibly be going with this. After all, this isn’t anything new. You and Xiao have known each other for a long time now. “That’s right.” he affirms, gaze moving back to the cup as he sets down the pitcher. “Why?”

You hold the edge of the bed and lean forward a little, and though the distance between the two of you is long, Xiao feels like stumbling back.

“Because you say you’re lending me your bed,” you start, looking away in ‘thought’, “Then you say you don’t sleep, so you’re not using it, right?”

Xiao blinks, looking to the floor further away, then back up at you. “… Right.”

“Then make use of it.” you say casually, tilting your head to the side. “Come on. Sleep with me.”

“I will not.” Xiao immediately says, eyes widening a little. Face reddening a little. What is with you, tonight?! He’ll have to make sure you never go near any alcohol ever again. He sighs and walks over to you, “Go to sleep. You’re doing too much thinking for someone this inebriated. And it’s clearly not doing anyone any good.” he speaks quietly, handing you the glass of water.

You take his hand and tug a little. “Come on.” you complain, looking up at him. “Xiao…”

Saying his name like that is just unfair.

He looks away. “Drink already.”

“What is this? The Conqueror of Demons is intimidated by his drunk friend’s invitation to sleep?” you tease, a small grin on your lips. You take the glass, finally. “That’s cute.”

Now he’s glaring. “Is that right.” he scoffs, watching you drink the water.

No. He shakes his head. You’re definitely trying to get under his skin. The worst part is that it worked, even if for just a few seconds. You hum, satisfied as you set the glass on the bedside table. Then you wrap your arms around his waist and put your chin on his stomach, looking up at him. He doesn’t move, except for his hand, which finds your face out of habit. “What now?” he sighs, and it would sound annoyed if it wasn’t for the love in his eyes.

You just smile, eyelids drooping and face tilting into his hand. “Mm… I wanna sleep next to you.” you say, almost too quiet to be heard. This time, Xiao sees the effects of your drunken shenanigans hitting your system in full force, and you clearly look a second away from falling asleep.

He smiles softly to himself. “Alright.” he says, caressing your cheek. “Then lay down.”

You huff and let go of him to roll over on the bed, sighing in satisfaction. You look like you could just melt into the mattress, with that comfortable air on your face. Xiao sits down and slowly moves to lay down at your side, moving a little to make sure you have enough space for yourself.

Except you don’t seem to be much for space, tonight.

You move so you’re half-hovering him, really just one arm over his chest and your face close to his. Xiao’s eyes widen at how sudden your movement is before relaxing. He wishes he’d read more books with flowery words. None that he can think of seems to be enough to describe how beautiful you look. He hums, tone inquisitive as he stares up at you, a finger moving against your cheek gently. “What were you doing to get so drunk?” he asks, voice a whisper.

You purse your lips in thought, before sighing. “The poetry event hosted by Liyue and Mondstadt. Venti was there and he somehow got me to drink with him…” you trail off with a sigh, “This feels like a set-up.”

Xiao’s brows furrow in confusion. “How so?”

“Because, it’s like he knows how I get when I’m drunk… I spent the whole time complaining about wanting to see you, and all he did was laugh.”

His eyes widen the more you speak. The idea of you talking about him to others, about missing him— It makes his heart flutter. He bites the inside of his lip, cheeks a bit warmer than before. “And you think he invited you to drink just so you could get like… this?” he asks hesitantly, to which you vigorously shake your head.

“No, he just wanted someone to drink with and be able to make fun of.” you grumble, “It’s all in good fun, I have plenty of things to mock him about during the times he gets too tipsy, too.”

Xiao raises his eyebrows, following your words idly. He is listening, really, he is. But the feeling in his chest is not going away and it’s clouding his mind. “You must’ve wanted to drink, too, then?” he says quietly, “I know you wouldn’t do it just to keep him company.”

“Mhm.” you hum, and it sounds so sleepy he thinks you might fall limp on his chest the second that follows. 

But no, instead, your face dips down into his neck and before he can say a thing he feels your mouth on his skin and his eyes are drifting close. It does not matter how many times he’s had the privilege to feel the touch of your lips on him. It doesn’t matter, because each and every single time, his heart stutters so much he feels like he might be dying— All whilst making all of his limbs relax so much they feel like jelly.

His lips part to exhale, head tilting back ever so slightly. The kisses you press to his neck are incredibly soft and somehow manage to make his skin burn with all that it makes him feel.

“What happened to sleeping?” he says, voice much too quiet and breathy to hide the effect you have on him. His hand moves to your back, tracing circles like he’s trying to calm himself more than you. “I don’t— Archons, I… I don’t recall this being sleeping.”

He doesn’t sound nervous, and he isn’t. He’s tripping over his words because you’re making his mind foggy. How is he expected to think when your lips are on the pulse point at his neck? No way.

You bite, lightly, and he makes a strangled noise.

It feels good.

“Are you complaining?” you ask. Your voice is a breathy whisper against the skin of his throat that makes shivers go down his spine. Xiao’s other hand is as tight as it can manage against the sheets covering his bed. He cannot tell if he’s more tense than ever or incredibly at ease. It’s always something in between, when it comes to this.

He looks down at you. “Not complaining.” he sighs softly, blinking, “You’re just a bit too affectionate when you’re drunk.” he breathes, eyes closing for a moment. He doesn’t think the Archons are on his side when it comes to answering prayers tonight, and he will have to rely on himself alone to not melt into a pathetic puddle of embarrassment at every single thing that you do.

“Am I?” you hum, moving up to face him. Your faces are close but he knows neither of you will make a move. Not now. Not in these circumstances. You just smile before chuckling and leaning down to lay your head on his chest. “Sorry.” you say quietly.

Xiao smiles softly, eyes drifting close again. He brings his hand to your head and rests it there. “It’s okay.” he whispers. Then he decides this isn’t enough, so he finds one of your hands atop his chest and intertwines his free one with yours.

He likes you when you’re affectionate. He loves it, even.

He likes you either way.

“Thank you.” you say, tilting your head so it lays on its side. Your gaze is set on nothing really and it’s clear you’re getting tired. “I mean it. For dealing with me.”

Xiao almost scoffs. You say it like it’s a chore. He’ll never mind taking care of you. He thinks it’s odd you would even think otherwise. Humans are odd. “You’re not that bad.” he replies, a tinge of laughter in his voice, “Don’t worry about it.”

The sound of wind chimes outside the window and the breeze over the leaves of the nearby trees seem to lull you to sleep, or maybe the sound of Xiao’s heartbeat does. He stays awake, eyes flitting towards the window every now and then.

He breathes out softly and turns to you, before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Sleep well. I’ll watch over you.”

[basichextechml]

Details

Wednesday Addams/Fem!Reader

Rating: Teen // 4.7K words // Reader uses she/her pronouns, no looks are described, rated teen bc the jokes are morbid and somewhat graphic, reader is a shapeshifter, reader is a touch insecure but don’t worry guys it’s good I swear, I’m sick w covid rn so if you spot a mistake no you don’t (but actually tell me pls), there’s a playlist at the end of this fic pls check it out love you guys <3

A chain reaction is set off when Wednesday realizes she’s not actually talking to her roommate

Pt. 2

---

     Wednesday wasn’t talking to Enid right now.

     Sure Enid was in front of her, sitting on her bed, in their room, wearing her clothes, and her face- but it had, embarrassingly, taken Wednesday five whole minutes to realize it wasn’t Enid. Her hairline was off, her smile was a bit too big, and her eyeliner wasn’t done with its normal flicked technique. What cracked the bell, however, was the fact that her nails were a different color. Wednesday normally couldn’t care less, but her roommate had been trying to find the perfect shade of green for her nails for the past month and had only repainted them this morning, blabbering on and on about it. A fact that made Wednesday want to open the large decorative window, and fling herself out of it.

     But her nails weren’t green. They were blue with pink polka dots. The same pattern she had last week.

     “You’re a pretty convincing fake,” Wednesday bit, and faux-Enid paused mid-sentence.

     You’d been caught.

     Wednesday continues, tilting her head down to glare at you through her lashes. Other than those minute details- you really could be Enid. Or, at least, someone lesser than her would believe so. “Who are you, and why have you chosen to impersonate my roommate?”

     Faux-Enid sighed, before sticking on her house slippers and stepping towards Wednesday, holding out a hand. After a moment of consideration, Wednesday took it firmly in hers and shook it twice. You clicked your tongue in satisfaction- a decidedly un-Enid thing for you to do. Wednesday never thought she’d see the uncanny implications of someone wearing another’s face so nonchalantly in person.

     “(Y/n),” You said, brows pitching up as you finally looked around freely, “I just wanted to see the great Wednesday Addams that everyone’s been whispering about.”

     “Whispering is for wakes, I prefer it that way, everyone’s been too loud since I’ve arrived.”

     You understood now why everyone was talking- well, maybe for different reasons. They were concerned about the attempted murder charges. You were wondering how someone could be so pretty. She was entirely ignoring you as well, a bold move considering you were a stranger, and you had impersonated her roommate and snuck into her dorm.

     Hm. That made you sound like a creep.

     Oh well.

     The newly occupied side of the room was sparsely decorated- a far cry from Enid’s colorful and cluttered abode. You couldn’t say it was bad, though, everything was organized, in its rightful place- and delightfully macabre, accentuating the architecture that encased it. Her bedsheets had hospital corners. Taking care not to touch anything, you glanced over the few trinkets she had, lingering on the heavy typewriter with a fresh piece of paper stuck inside its hold.

     As you take a step closer to her, she takes one back.

     You rescind your previous step, putting twice the space between you- and you catch a downward twitch in her brow.

     “A murder mystery?” You ask, looking her in the eye. Wednesday isn’t entirely sure you’re asking about her book, even though it is the topic of discussion.

     Wednesday found herself asking a question without thinking. “How could you tell?”

     You turn your back on her, this time. A dangerous decision, she decides, because she can see your neck from here. “Instinct, maybe?” You tease, turning back momentarily to wink. Wednesday’s lips purse tight, perturbed at those words coming from what seems to be Enid’s mouth.

     “If you’re going to act in such a way, I’d be much obliged if you stopped mimicking my roommate.” Her skin prickled as you sighed, rocking back on your feet as if contemplating her words.

     And then you begin to change, right in front of Wednesday’s eyes.

     Wednesday’s ever-present morbid curiosity waits for the cracking of bone or stretching of skin- reminiscent of other transformations she’d bore witness to. This was nothing of the sort- it was smooth. Too smooth. Like a hot knife through the doughy fat of a thigh. It’s disturbing as you take on a new shape, and she can’t blink, because she’ll miss it.

     Or maybe she won’t? How can she miss it when the familiar face staring back at her is her?

     You trot along to Enid’s mirror, fixing your newfound fringe and admiring how Wednesday’s face looks on you. She had dark brown- nearly black eyes, and a smattering of freckles over her soft skin. Her eyelashes are long, too, wisping against her brows and the apples of her cheeks, almost like a doll. “You really are pretty, Wednesday. Great cheekbones,” She sees the way your eyes look down at her lips in the mirror. “Nice-”

     “If you finish that train of thought they’ll find you at the bottom of the lake hog-tied with lead in your pockets.”

     You smile at her- and that’s how others would be able to tell you both apart because the muscles responsible for completing such an expression had died in her face long ago. It was like an out-of-body experience, or a successful trial after her many failed attempts at lucid dreaming. It made her feel something- something she couldn’t put a finger on- something she might not like.

     She wants to end this.

     But then you’d leave.

     She wants you to leave.

     Right?

     It may be too difficult to say no to her own face.

     You can see the twitch next to her lip, and know that maybe you’ve pushed the new girl too far- and thus, you borrow Enid again. “Don’t worry, Wednesday,” the way you say her name sends chills up her spine, like hypothermia setting in. It’s different from the way Enid would say it, like you’re pitching her voice differently, making it your own. “I won’t borrow your face if you don’t want me to.”

     And just as you make peace with plunging Wednesday into the ice-cold uncharted waters of discomposure, the door jiggles and swings open. Enid- the real one- stands in the doorway with shopping bags on her arm, ones that she nearly drops as she squeals over your presence.

     Wednesday takes a step back as the blonde entirely overtakes you, and she’s sure she’ll go blind from the embarrassingly emotional spectacle you both make. Clamoring and chattering as you discuss something undoubtedly trivial. Enid doesn’t seem to mind that you’ve borrowed her complexion. Wednesday doesn’t understand it. Maybe she doesn’t want you to leave. She feels her fingers twitch in the urge to lay you down and cut you open. Shapeshifters must have malleable cells, right? To aid in the transformation process? She wants to see what it would look like under a microscope.

     As if sensing her murderous intent, maybe you can see it in her eyes, you turn to her, a sly little smile. “It was lovely meeting you Wednesday. I’d love to hear more about your novel next time we chat.”

     The next time.

     How bold.

---

     When Enid posted on her blog about Nevermore gaining a new student and the scandal that would undoubtedly follow, you were hooked. The Addams were infamous at Nevermore, and now their oldest would be showing up midway through the quarter, tugging along attempted murder charges?

     You were itching to meet her.

     Heart practically beating out of your chest, you retreated from Enid and Wednesday’s dorm. Riveting. Absolutely riveting. Your fingers and toes were numb in excitement at the prospect of the rest of the quarter. Who knew a flash of braids and a homicidal edge was what this school so desperately needed?

---

     “I’m assuming you know her?” Wednesday asked, not bothering to look at her roommate as she pulled out her desk chair and began setting up her typewriter.

     “Oh, (Y/n)? Yeah of course! We’re like, besties!” Wednesday fought the urge to roll her eyes at Enid’s terminology. “I was wondering when she was gonna come around- when I told her you were coming to Nevermore she totally freaked.” Enid clipped her bangs back, getting ready for her nightly skin routine. “I can’t believe it took her, like, what, a week? to come say hi.”

     Wednesday hummed, barely hearing the words over the clacking of her typewriter keys, her brows furrowed in thought. Enid grabbed her caddy of soaps and prepared to head off into the bathroom. “I feel like you’ll be great friends. Ooooh, we should totally do, like, a group sleepover! I’ll be right back, think about it, okay?”

     The front door slammed shut behind Enid, and Wednesday grumbled, pulling out the used sheet of paper from her typewriter and crumpling it up. Thing looked up from his place on Wednesday’s bed, shutting the magazine he’d been leafing through to see what was troubling her. Wordlessly, she fed another piece of paper into the paper table.

     Perhaps Viper De La Muerte’s mystery would gain another character.

---

     You come to her next as Xavier in their shared botanical sciences class, and she can tell right away based on the doodle you’re scratching into his desk. It’s quite awful. Horrendous, actually- technically speaking.

     “Good morning Wednesday” You chirp, and that warbled tone is there again. Perhaps a side effect? Curiosity is creeping up on her in these spare meetings you both share, getting ready to strangle her in the best way

      Wednesday sets down her bag, and sits precariously on her chair, eyeing the etched drawing on the desk. It’s a raven, and when it doesn’t pop out of the table at her, she’s sure of her conviction.

     “(Y/n)” She states.

     You let out an affronted gasp, eyes crinkling at the recognition, before propping your chin up on your hand. “How could you tell? Was it my magnetic personality?” Wednesday focuses on the way your, Xaviers, fingers tap and fidget against the desk like you think she won’t notice. “Perhaps our first encounter has captured your heart- and you’ve fallen for me?”

     “I’d rather you watch me fall off a cliff.”

     “Sounds like the perfect date idea, how about seven tomorrow night?”

     You watch in excitement as her brows tick up a hairline of an inch and the way her cheeks look a little less dead. She most likely wasn’t used to someone receiving her sardonic personality with open arms.

     In place of answering, she chooses to counter it with another question. “Why are you impersonating Xavier?”

     Dramatically, you pull out a notebook. Not a sketchbook. A real notebook. And begin to take dutiful notes. Another way she would’ve been able to tell the difference between you and Xavier. “If someone doesn’t want to go to class, for whatever reason, they normally pay me to come and make sure they don’t miss an attendance credit, take a test, get homework-”

     “Cheat?”

     “If that’s what you’d like to call it, then yeah, cheat,” You shrug, “It makes me good money, and I get to keep the grade curve up. I’m sure you could appreciate that.” Your pencil nudges against hers, tapping against her meticulous notes.

     She’s not sure where to take this conversation, and that weird feeling is back. Normally, she’s itching to leave a conversation. Any conversation. Maybe it’s the fact that while she’s talking to Xavier, she’s also talking to you. There’s nothing to put to your voice yet, even when it’s masked and warbled by another.

     Wednesday is talking to someone, and she doesn’t really know who. The concept is eldritchtian in nature, that she could look over and not understand something that was right in front of her face. There’s no control. A masterful side eye keeps watch on you throughout the period. If she can’t put a face to a name, she could at least tack onto mannerism. Maybe then she could control that feeling in her gut.

     You liked keeping your hands above the desk and busy. You’d fidget with them often, picking at your nails. Your nose would involuntarily twitch whenever Thornhill pulled out a particularly foul-smelling plant. But was that you or Xavier? Wednesday’s pen taps the edge of her paper, leaving ink blots in the margins. She could argue that it’s you- at the end of the day it’s your brain, but another part says you could be subconsciously mimicking the mannerisms of whoever you’re impersonating. You’re a puzzle with one too many edge pieces that she’s trying to make fit.

      She’s adorable- thinking that you don’t notice she’s watching you. The thing about being different, for good or bad reasons, is that you can feel when someone’s trying to understand you. How their eyes linger. Maybe it’s masochism that runs your brain because you feel good gaining her attention- no matter how depraved it was.

     The game of ignoring and noticing each other continued throughout the period, like a dance you had practiced, making sure not to step on each other’s toes. You wondered if she was curious enough to ask now. You wanted her to ask. To be curious enough to suggest meeting up. To know you better. From what Enid had spilled about her, Wednesday was confident- and unpredictable. The ball was never in your court because she was never even playing her game with you, just hitting it against the wall by your head and waiting for you to flinch.

     You’d flinch if she wanted.

     Miss Thornhill wrapped up the end of class, the volume of the room slowly rising as kids began to talk about their upcoming plans for the weekend. You watched slyly as Wednesday packed up, flipping your notebook closed to give back to Xavier.

      “My room, tonight after dinner,” Wednesday murmured firmly, and your smile pulled taught, an ache in your cheeks. But your victory was short-lived, the lips you’d admired in the mirror spelling your crash.

     “Don’t come as anyone.”

---

     You were stupid to have not thought this far.

     Stupid, stupid, stupid.

     Getting so caught up in just trying to capture her attention, you didn’t even know what you were going to do if you got it. You thought it would take a couple more tries to get her fully into the idea of being around you- but you had underestimated Enid’s words.

     Wednesday knew what she wanted quickly, and she expected to get it.

     It would be hot if you weren’t mentally freaking out.

     She said to meet her after dinner, but that didn’t specify a certain time, right? Hypothetically, you could show up whenever. You could say you had a late dinner- but you know that wasn’t what she met. She’d already be upset at you for disregarding her last request, you couldn’t be late on top of that.

     As you walked through the hallowed halls of Nevermore Academy, you people-watched. There were so many interesting students here. No matter their disposition, they had rich lives that would no doubt continue on and only grow more complex. Intriguing powers that had so many quirks and kickbacks that you could only imagine what it felt like to have them come naturally to you. There were so many compelling people here- so why would you want to be you when you could pretend to be them?

     Shifting from foot to foot, you knocked on the door. Well, Bianca technically knocked on the door, but it was still just you. Enid answers, looking somewhat taken aback before realization dawns on her. “(Y/n)- come on in! I was just about to go meet Ajax, so it’ll just be you and Wednesday.” The way she says it sounds like she’s hinting something, looking at you with wide eyes and a mischievous little smile.

     ‘Subtle’ You mouth to her, nodding your head. Enid does a bashful curtsey, before grabbing her keys. She makes sure it’s loud as she locks the door behind her.

     And then it’s two.

     Wednesday looks positively deadly cut against the low light of the iconic Ophelia Hall window. The way she glares through you emphasizes her distaste for your actions.

     “I see you’ve decided on Bianca today. Odd, considering I asked for you.” You’re nearly prepared to say something, mustering up enough thought to figure out what she’d even want to hear, but it’s her who steps closer. And closer. And closer.

     She’s in your space now, looking up ever so slightly at you. “Take it off.”

     “You could at least buy me dinner first,” You stumble out, voice not nearly as confident as it had to be for that line.

     Wednesday only tilts her head, coy as can be, with a brow slightly raised. “I thought you liked my unconventional… date ideas.”

     You muffled a laugh, “I didn’t even get the first one. I was looking forward to seeing the rocks together-”

     Wednesday wondered if you do it- if you’d teeter into the violence of her earlier statements.

     “-If you’d jump, and if you did, how you’d hit them. Maybe, what it would look like when I followed after you.”

     You’d been lured into her trap. And by the way, Wednesday could feel the corners of her mouth twitching up, she’d been ensnared in yours. But she couldn’t let you win so easily. She couldn’t find herself letting you do it. Turning away, she marched to her desk, pulling out a thin, monogrammed book, and a pen. “I believe I made that commitment to (Y/n), not Bianca.”

     Frozen to the floorboards, you stare wide-eyed, having been put right back into the one spot you didn’t want to be. Wednesday could hear the hitch in your breath, matching it with her own to see how long it would take you to breathe again. The satisfying ache in her lungs proved that she had caught you off guard. “To make it up to me, you’ll be answering a few questions.” She points to her bed, telling you to sit.

     Relief wasn’t the right word to describe your state. Abject happiness? Pure and unbridled repose? Perhaps disappointment- because you wouldn’t be meeting your demise to the cold, small hands of Wednesday Addams. Though, a thorough interrogation will take a close second.

     There was a weird disconnect with the situation. You’d tell Wednesday anything she wanted to know. What you were, how you felt, your deepest fears, your middle name. But the idea of shedding whomever you had borrowed and bearing your face to the world terrified you. The idea that she could know everything about you and know nothing at the same time felt comfortable, but when Wednesday Addams was looking at you with a curious spark in her eyes, you felt it wasn’t the right choice at all.

     Scurrying over to the bed, you hurriedly sat down- only to sit on something soft. Not in the springy way, a bed was soft, but in the way people were soft.

     Wednesday watched in amusement as you yelped, jumping up quickly off of her bed. Thing angrily crawled his way out of the covers, obviously having been woken up from his after-dinner nap. Desperately, you apologized to Thing, seemingly unfazed by the fact that he was only a hand. She doubts he’s the weirdest thing you’ll see while you choose to associate with her. “Thing, this is (Y/n). (Y/n), Thing. Now stop apologizing.” Wednesday demands, grabbing Thing and carrying him over to Enid’s side of the room. Precariously, she tucks him in, before turning her back on him, leaving no room for argument. She pointed to the bed again. “You. Sit.” What were you meant to do? Say no? Perched on the side of the bed, you waited for her to begin her investigation a la (Y/n).

     “You can become anything?” Wednesday started, writing along the printed lines of her notebook.

     “Anything you want.” You tease.

     “I want a real answer.”

     “Anything I want, within reason,” You sigh, leaning back on your hands.

     She stopped writing for a moment, looking over the edge of her book, “And what does that entail?”

     “I can’t get too small,” You emphasize, making a small box with your hands and then gesturing to the rest of yourself, “Or else I feel cramped. And I can’t get too big, because then I’ll be stretched too thin, and everything’ll become unstable.” Wednesday narrows her eyes for a moment, hitting the nib of the pen against the paper before deciding what to write.

     “What about width?”

     “Oooh, that’s a good question- haven’t tried it? I guess? Not many things are wider than they are tall.”

     Wednesday hums in thought, before grabbing her desk chair and propping it up in front of you, sitting down herself. Your knees were knocking together, the only thing separating your skin from hers being her uniform skirts. Bianca always liked to roll her skirt up a bit, so you did too. “Does it hurt?”

     “Did what hurt? When I fell for you- Ow!”

     You rubbed at the skin of your knee where she had stabbed you with her pen, the broken skin healing itself within the blink of an eye. You could feel her gaze watching it.

     “We’re not doing that bit again. Your abilities seem to have a healing aspect.” She mumbles, furiously scribbling something down. You wondered what she was even writing. ‘Initial observation, healing aspect, eternal torture? Must review’. Yeah, no, okay.

     “Not exactly, It’s sort of like healing- but also a bit more complex. When you heal, you make new cells, right?”

     “Of course.”

     “But what I just did wasn’t making new cells- it’s just the same cells remembering what was there, transforming into that, and then moving accordingly.” Tentatively, you grab her hand. It’s cold and rigid against yours, like a corpse, and you move it to the skin of your knee. You’d never be able to tell that there was a hole there in the first place. “Of course, I still produce new cells like everyone else, it’s just if I were to sustain a large injury- a lethal one, being a shapeshifter wouldn’t save me. My cells would transform and move, but that would only be tearing me open in a different way.”

     There’s a smile on Wednesday’s face.

     It’s small, barely even there, like an apparition, but you can see it.

     Wednesday is enamored with you. Your skin was so warm. You were holding her hand so tightly. She had this disgusting, revolting feeling in her chest. One she wanted to keep there forever.

     “So I couldn’t crack your ribs open and crawl inside of you?”

     “If you had to keep warm, of course.”

     You were so close.

     Suddenly, she clapped her notebook shut, the chair screeching as she lurched out of it. Jolting, you leaned back a little, watching with wide eyes as she slammed the notebook into her desk drawer and shut it.

     “We’re going to see the rocks tomorrow.” She demanded, reminiscent of when she asked you to come here. “And I do want you this time.”

     Son of a bitch.

     “I…” Your mouth felt dry. It was amazing how she managed to make you feel so comfortable while trapped. “I’ll think about it.” And within the next moment, you were a mouse scurrying across the floor boards, and ducking right beneath the door frame.

     You didn’t stop running until you were down the stairs and in the main entrance hall- quickly changing back and collapsing against a wall.

     A mouse? Did you become a fucking mouse?

     Silently screaming into the hall, you hit your head against the ground, embarrassment flooding through your every nerve. Because what the fuck. You became a fucking mouse and you ran under the door.

     You knew what you had to do.

     You had to die.

     Life was over at this point- there was no use continuing. Wednesday Addams had (sort of) asked you out, and like a complete and utter loser, you ran away. As a mouse.

---

     You had been avoiding her.

     It had been a week since Wednesday Addams had last seen you. And a single question loomed above them all.

     Who did you think you were?

     You barge into her room, responding to her threats and homicidal tendencies in kind, making her interested, sticking her neck out onto the guillotine. Making her want to hold and touch you. Hold your warm hands. Run her fingers over your skin. And you’re hiding from her?

     To say she was positively murderous at this point was an understatement. Her rage was unconcealable. People avoided her in the halls, well, more so than before. Enid was neglecting to start conversations when they shared their dorm, fearing the wrath she may incur if Wednesday was even a bit more annoyed. She had already stabbed Xavier with her pen twice. He didn’t even have the nerve to treat her to a spectacle such as you did.

     Her cello was bearing the brunt of her bad mood this evening, pulling along the strings and bow to string together a much blunter rendition of Shostakovich’s String Quartet No. 8. The callouses on the tips of her fingers burned as she flew through the piece, a much-needed pain to distract her from her inner turmoil. It felt so right.

     As the last few notes on the page crept up on her, the quartet drawing to a close, there was a glint in the night. Brows furrowed and lips pouted, she closed her music book, setting down her bow and cello to approach the edge of the stoned terrace. A raven- big and beautiful, flapped its wings closer, a chain dangling from its beak with a pendant hanging from the end. Like it recognized her, it stalled in the air, almost waiting for Wednesday to hold out her hand.

     Tentatively, she did so, and the raven dropped the cold, sterling silver amulet into her hand. Ignoring its retreat, she turned the amulet around, peering into the glass class on the other side. Its contents puzzled her.

     “Don’t turn around.”

     Head snapping up, Wednesday felt a tingle run down her spine as she looked onto the horizon. She knew that voice.

     One that was normally distorted with another’s, warbled and lost in a tonal fray, was crystal clear.

     “I… I wanted to apologize.”

     “For ignoring my existence?”

     “Yes, I just…” She could hear your exasperated sigh behind her, and instead of turning around, she channeled her want into running her fingers along the grooves of the amulet. “I want to show you who I am. I do. I just don’t think that I… That I’m prepared for what that means. So I got you that.”

     It was a Victorian mourning locket. Inside its glass prison lay a small, cut stock card. Oil paints had been used to portray a single, lively and bright eye, laid deep into plush skin. Framing it, were strands of hair, glued and staged to look as though it would when hanging naturally. A single braid of the same hair wormed around and enclosed the portrait, snug against the silver. The hair, skin, and eye colors were unfamiliar to her- but Wednesday Addams was a smart girl, she could piece it together.

     She felt as if you had grabbed her heart and pulled it out of her chest, content to watch it slow to a stop in your hand, and all she could muster was- “Who painted this?”

     You muffled a laugh. “My dad, don’t worry.”

     Wednesday could hear your steps, and by the fourth, she could feel how warm you were against her back.

     “This is just my way of saying… that when I’m ready, you’ll be the first person I show. You’ve already seen more of me than anyone else here has.”

     Just like when you first met the infamous Wednesday Addams, your fingers were numb. Though, this time, instead of excitement, you were dreadfully, painfully, nervous. Nervous that the girl standing only a few feet in front of you would reject your declaration. All was silent, and the only sound you could comprehend was the thudding of your pulse in your ears as she held the locket out behind her.

     “Put it on for me.”

     Fingers shaking, you struggled to unclasp the chain, before pulling the chain around her thin neck. Securing the clasp again, you lingered, warm hands smoothing out the baby hairs on the nape of her neck.

     Wednesday watched unfamiliar hands flash in front of her eyes, and she knew that she had you at that very moment. “Sit,” she demands again, settling down on the floor of the terrace. One more moment and your back was entirely pressed against hers, the ridges of your spines kissing through your muscle, skin, and clothes. “Thank you,” Wednesday said quietly into the night air, “I’m… I’m pleased, that I’ll be the first.”

     She took your hand in hers, and the numbness faded.

---

Thank you guys for reading!! If you enjoyed it pls let me know, my inbox and mentions are always open and reblogs are always appreciated <3

This is a playlist I made for Wednesday, it’s got Latin American goth and orchestral pieces (including the one mentioned above), so if that’s your vibe pls check it out!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1CbNa8jneefleLKCK98HHC?si=0fc47154f345442d

[taesanluv3r]

well, soulmate.

han taesan x reader

soulmates au ♡*

wc: 2,510

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

taesan remembers his first encounter with yn all too well. i mean how could he not? the day that changed the whole trajectory of his life, the day it all came together, the day he found his soulmate.

and it went like this...

"c'mon dude, let's go out! get your mind off of things"

taesan sighs at his friend's endless bugging. to be honest, this past week had been absolutely awful to the young boy. he can't seem to write the right lyrics for his songs, his outfits never seem to go the way he planned and on top of all that he hasn't had proper sleep in days! luckily for him, he's got a roommate like leehan, who's always pushing him to get out more and be alive every once in a while.

"ugh fine. where are we going?" the tall guy's voice dragged as he stretched himself off of his gaming chair- the one he bought just because it was advertised as the most comfortable chair in the world but was actually just an extra hundred dollars down the drain for a regular chair. "i'm thinking we head out to that new shopping strip down the road, i heard they have a massive record store there..." leehan raised the pitch of his voice a bit towards the end, to ignite somewhat of excitement from his otherwise stoic best friend. "maybe you could go get a new record of that nirvana one or whatever you broke last time" he continues, leaning against the frame of the door and waiting patiently as the other boy began to throw on his jean jacket. "you mean the one YOU broke" taesan repeats, raising an eyebrow sternly at his friend while spritzing his signature scent against his slim wrists and near his neck. "whatever" leehan says, rolling his eyes back in annoyance. "you focus too much on the facts. now hurry up!"

and with that they were out the door, strolling down to just the edge of their street where they had opened up a brand new shopping strip to liven up their boring neighbourhood a little bit. "huh, this place is a lot nicer than i thought" leehan says, pushing the glasses he wore up the bridge of his nose as they walked through the pillared entrance. "yeah...it's pretty neat" taesan agrees, taking in his surroundings and admiring the stylistic architecture for himself. there were all sorts of shops around there; a pretty little flower shop which stood beside a french pattiserie, a bright yellow pet shop with the cutest array of cats, dogs and even fishes! and then there was the long line of clothing stores, from higher end to locally sourced small brands as well. "wait bro can you take a pic of me real quick, i like this wall" leehan says, stopping them right beside a grunge-y women's clothing store. the han guy chuckles lightly, grabbing the phone he was being handed. he rolls his eyes as his roommate begins to strike multiple poses, finding his attempts at looking candid and nonchalant absolutely stupid. "okay wait one more" his friend says, but just as he was about to click the white button the boy felt some sort of a tingle on his neck, as if he had just been zapped by a ray of electricity.

"ah!" he jumps in shock, a hand going up to caress the spot behind his neck that began to feel a bit sore. "yo dude, you okay?" leehan asks as he walks back towards him. he just nods, "yeah, it's probably nothing- just like, a tingle on my neck" his friend looks confused, maybe just as confused as he was. "maybe it's one of those sparks you know, like when you're near your soulmate or whatever" taesan scoffs at the suggestion, "yeah right, and that's just a myth- i don't believe it" the kim guy let's out a laugh, "what if it's me?" to which his friend just glared, "if you were my soulmate i think i'd just give up on love for the rest of my life" leehan shoots somewhat of a hurt expression towards him, a hand moving to clutch his heart. "ouch" he says, earning a half-assed slap from the other boy on the back of his head. "shut up, let's go find that record store and get outta here, i'm getting bored"

ding!

the bell that hung above the door rang softly as the pair entered the large record store. taesan's mouth fell open wide as he basked in what he would call, music heaven. the store was fully equipped with floor to ceiling shelves, all decked out with thousands and thousands of records upon records. at every corner stood rows and rows of CDs and vinyls of just about any artist from every genre possible. leehan was amazed as well, though it was more so because of the fancy chandeliers that lit up the place than by the outstanding variety of music. almost like a moth to the light, taesan found himself unconsciously wandering over to the very back of the store, a large section at one of the corners with a giant sign that read:

old rock & alternative

his eyes glimmered as he spotted all his favourite artists' works, almost crying at the sight of the organised mess of music. "leehan check this out! they've even gotten a limited edition- ah!" he cut himself off, bending over his knees as another sharp pain hit the back of his neck like a storm. "dude!" his friend called out, ushering over to make sure he was alright. he wasn't sure if it was just the ringing of his ear or if he had just heard a female voice yelp the same way he did from the section behind him. "you okay bro? this has happened like twice already, what's going on?" leehan sounded worried, his voice shifting from the genuine concern he had for his friend. "yeah...i don't know what's wrong either..." the tall boy sighs, catching his breath as he stood up straight again. "let's just find that nirvana vinyl and go home" he says, receiving a hum in agreement from the other.

"it should be...over...here."

his arm reaches out above his head to grab a copy of nirvana's in utero album but his hand is met with the flesh of another's instead. a gasp escapes his lips as another zap of electricity ran through his body at the contact. it's different this time though, it felt ten times stronger than the other two he had experienced before, yet it was painless. and unlike the other two times the sensation of this shock felt like a split second, but it left some sort of an unfamiliar warmth in his chest and a tornado-like feeling in his stomach. he stood there frozen for a second, just a moment before he began to turn his head around to find the source of it all. and that's when he makes eyes contact with her.

he gasps again. not because of another zap or anything, but just purely out of shock. he'd never ever laid his eyes on someone so enticing as she before. she had just the same blank expression on her own face, like she had been stunned out of her mind. simultaneously, they began to pull their arms away from where they were still touching one another against the nirvana record. their movements were slow, like whatever happened just now had taken their breaths away, leaving them in some sort of a bubble and drowning out the rest of the world around them in that shop.

"did...did you feel that too?" he asks suddenly, breaking the silence that was all too evident. she nods, her words not seeming to come out of her mouth that remained opened. "sorry" she manages to say, though her words came out with a slight stutter. he shakes his head, as if to let her know it was okay, but he didn't even really know what she was apologising for. "for what?" he decides to ask, the burning sensation in his heart seeping through his tongue urging him to keep going in the conversation with this stranger. "i don't know. i've been getting these random shocks since i stepped out of that grunge store today" she says, her eyebrows furrowing as she recalls. taesan's eyes grow wide, "me too!" he exclaims, almost too excited that it made her jump a little. "it started when i was taking pictures of my friend...at..the..." he dragged out until he became quiet, a look washing over his complexion as if he had just pieced a thousand piece puzzle together.

"at the what?" she asks, a hint of impatience in her tone as she did so. "at the cool wall next to the grunge clothing store" he says, in a way that made her believe there was something she wasn't getting. "and...?" she questions, head tilting to the side to show her confusion. "okay, it's gonna sound crazy but...you know that myth about soulmates?" the boy's inquiry has her eyes going wide. "you know like when you're near your soulmate you get all those shocks and-" she cuts him off, "so you're saying you're my soulmate then?" her tone is different now, like she had just unlocked a new sense of confidence. her aura had changed as well, from blank and lost to, witty and strong. it catches him off guard, the boy suddenly losing his ability to generate literate sentences. "well i mean i don't know but i'm just like putting it out there you know" he rambles and she smiles. a smile he knew he would never be able to forget. the way her eyes melted away, and the skin around her cheeks dipped into dimples, it almost turned the poor boy into liquid! "i'm just kidding" she says, popping the metaphorical bubble they had just been sitting in and allowing the sounds from inside the store back into their ears. taesan suddenly feels at ease, like there was just something about her that made him comfortable.

"well soulmate," she teased, the nickname turning his ears a pretty dark shade of red. "care to tell me your name?" she asks, that same smile still painted against her rosy lips. "i'm um i'm taesan" he replies, a hand moving up to stroke away the hair that fell against his forehead. "nice to meet you, i'm yn"

yn, a pretty name for what he would definitely call a pretty lady. she reaches a hand out for him to shake and he did so, hesitantly, in fear that it might send their bodies into another shock. to his surprise however, it was just the opposite. instead, a fluttery feeling had surrounded the two, like they were just transported to their own la la land and were being swarmed by a billion butterflies. he smiles at her for the first time- teeth and all, and she giggles softly. their moment of bliss lasts another second before the staring into each other's eyes became a little too awkward. taesan clears his throat as they finally turn away from each other, eyes floating back to where they were originally set. his long arm reaches up to grab at the vinyl once again, grabbing two this time.

"so..." he begins, looking down as he passes one over to her. yn thanks him as she retrieves the record, tilting her head once again so as to tell him to continue. the boy smiles gleefully, suddenly feeling shy when she makes direct eye contact with him.

"you like nirvana too?"

the girl smirks, "only more than anyone else in the world!" he scoffs, "that means you like them more than me, and i highly doubt that" and then she laughs, "listen, i'd love to argue over who loves nirvana more with you but i need to head home soon so let's cut this short" taesan nods, but a slight somber feeling began to seep into his heart, almost like he was disappointed she had to leave so soon. "i'll see you around?" yn asks, earning a hum in response before she begins to walk away to the front of the store where the register was.

"dude what're you doing?!" the voice of his friend, who he totally forgot was there the whole time, snapped him out of his trance. "huh?" he asks, almost stupidly, causing leehan to smack him upside his head. "go ask her out! that could be your soulmate right there!" his friend's statement makes him go wide-eyed once more.

"hey yn, wait!" taesan calls out, running to catch her before she gets to the counter. "hm?" she turns on her heels to be met with him again. "yes?" the girl asks the now out of breath boy, waiting patiently in amusement as he tries to speak while catching his breath. "i was- woo hold on- ah okay um" he inhales before letting out one last big exhale. "i was wondering if you'd like to go out sometime? you know...so i can prove that i'm a way bigger nirvana fan than you are, duh" the boy tries his best to sound confident, like he wasn't freaking out about asking this pretty stranger he just met out. yn lets out a sigh, a sigh that made his heart drop down to the bottom of his lungs for a moment. "listen taesan...you're sweet and all...and i know we might be soulmates...but..." the words almost make him drop down and cry like a baby. his eyes were about to water and his hopeful smile had simmered down to an uncertain frown.

"but i just don't think you can out-stan me when it comes to nirvana, sorry!" she chuckles, finding his reaction to her little menacing joke priceless. "yn, i know we just met but you CANNOT just do that to me, please" he sounds like he just lost his mind, but he laughs it off along with her. "you're pretty cute, taesan. i guess i wouldn't mind going out with you. i mean, you are my like soulmate or something" the girl says, reviving that sparkle in his eyes once more. "you think i'm cute?" now he was getting cocky, his chest puffed out like he just won a nobel prize. "mhm, but don't get too cocky or i might just change my mind about that date" taesan shoots her a slight nod in worry, slight fear of losing someone like her taking over his previous pride.

"so..." he says, following behind her in line to pay for the record he was here to buy.

"how does friday sound?"

and the rest was history.

the end.

i dreamt of this last night 🤓 hope u enjoyed this!!! ALSO tysm for all the sweet comments on my last fic 🥹 means a lot to me u guys r motivating me to write more often again <3 tytyty LOVE U MWAH

[hometoursandotherstuff]

What continues to make sellers insist on renovating their vintage homes into forced modern. If I wanted a modern home, I wouldn't buy this one regardless of the reno. 1901 Victorian in St. Louis, MO has 4bds, 3ba, $575K. The listing shows the rooms both Photoshopped and empty. I'm posting the empty ones, so you can see what they did, architecturally.

The doors and gothic light fixture remained, but the large entrance hall is modernized in bright white walls and new geometric tiles.

Why aren't they showing the stairs in the entrance hall? There's no molding in the sitting room, anymore.

The stairs must be on the right. They've been walled up. Not sure if the 2 shelving units were windows.

Walls were definitely knocked down and there's a very open ceiling.

And, you can now look up and see the 2nd fl. Could this be what was once a railing around the 2nd floor?

This has become the dining room.

Two openings were carved out of this wall to the kitchen. Plus, there's some sort of weird shelf in the middle.

The kitchen's modern, but why does it look like the cabinets were recycled?

Interesting configuration.

The large round counter is held up by 2 balusters, maybe left over from the old stairs. Is a table supposed to go under those upper cabinets?

This is now the home office and there's an odd door to the outside.

I can't help but think that this was once the open landing at the top of the stairs. Remember, this is a Victorian. Look at the shoddy work, too. I wonder if the old railing is under this wood.

Here's a new shower room.

The primary bedroom has a new ceiling, but what is that rod? Looks like the light fixture may be original.

The rest of the room has some new shelving.

A new bath with a huge shower.

Plus, they made a walk-in closet with lots of floor space, but no place to actually hang clothes. There's also a fancy new ceiling.

This bedroom is part of that middle thing they made, so it has a large opening. What a weird renovation.

Another large open bedroom.

A bathroom with a free-standing shower.

The back of the home is original and the large deck looks like an older build.

I thought that there was a covered patio.

But, it turned out that cars are parked under the deck, so there's not much of a yard.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/5164-Waterman-Blvd-Saint-Louis-MO-63108/347952248_zpid/

[cameronspecial]

Before The Last Petal Falls (Part 1)

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Talks about sex and drugs.

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.4K

Summary: Coming home is supposed to be a happy occasion, but it's hard to be happy with your ex-boyfriend lurking around the corner.

A/N: This is a sequel series to Thorn In My Side, Rose in My Hand series.

Masterlist

Going back home is the last thing Y/N wants to do right now. The Outer Banks is full of memories from a heartbreak she does not want to remember. However, she is no match for the force known as Cassie and Marvin, and that is how she finds herself on a plane back to North Carolina. For the past five years, Y/N has done everything in her power to not step foot on the island again and now, it is all for nothing. “Please fasten your seat belts, we are preparing for landing,” the pilot’s voice stirs Y/N from her slumber. She can’t believe this is actually happening right now. The elderly lady beside her smiles at her, “First time going to North Carolina?” “Uh, no. I actually grew up there, in the Outer Banks, but I haven’t been back since I left. It feels a little weird,” she answers honestly. 

“Ahh, so you were running from something.” 

“Yeah, I was. But it looks like I can’t anymore. I just hope that something isn’t there anymore.”

The plane lands and Y/N gets her bags from the carousel. She waits for Mason in the pick-up area, running towards him when she spots his car. Mason crushes Y/N in a hug, “It’s so good to see you back on American soil. This is long overdue.” Y/N pats his back while returning the hug. “Yeah, yeah. It’s good to be home. Did Lace get Sparky here okay?” Mason picks her suitcase up and packs it into his trunk, “Yep, he’s probably being a little energy ball in our living room as we speak.” They both laugh at the joke and then hop into the car. “So how’s your internship at the architectural firm? Is it different from the one in Toronto?” she asks her brother, bringing her hand to the locket around her neck. Heading back to the Outer Bank is causing her to be anxious and playing with the locket calms her down. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Mason that she still wears the necklace and is playing with it. 

“It’s going well. Most buildings that people look into getting built here are a different style than in Toronto. OBX wants beach boxes, while Toronto has a wide range of styles. It’s really fascinating watching how my boss’ designs still match to look different from one another.”

“That’s cool. I like the name beach box. It sounds fun. Like a giant sandbox. And are you enjoying it?”

“Yeah, I really am. Although, I do want to see if I can get an internship in an Asian country afterwards. They have a different style that’s interesting. How is the bookstore coming along?”

“A little stressful right now to be honest. Juggling my book edits and what I need to change or add so that the building is up to code and now being here. It’s all just a little too much. At least, I have a name Bookkeeper. It’s gonna confuse people who actually know what that career is but I think it’s funny.”

“It is a good name. It’s very punny.”

“Ugh, that was so bad.”

———

One of the worst places to be is her childhood bedroom. The countless days they spent cuddling on the bed haunts her. The love they expressed physically all over the room is practically engrained in her brain. She had never been able to feel that way again. She unpacks her clothes into her closet and goes to check on Sparky downstairs. He was left down there because she didn’t want him sitting on her suitcase like he did when she was packing her bags in London. He has gotten bigger and he has a little bit of an attachment issue. He doesn’t like being very far from his Mommy for very long. Y/N’s heart drops to the pit of her stomach when she sees the open front door and bolts out of it in hopes of catching her dog before he gets too far. 

She follows his barks like a trail of breadcrumbs to the sidewalk. If her heart wasn’t already giving her problems, it certainly is now. The sight before her is one she never thought she would see again. Rafe Cameron is kneeling down and petting Sparky. Beside him is a beautiful woman in a sundress. Her long black hair cascades down her shoulders and her brown almond-shaped eyes show such warmth behind them. Her makeup is done to absolute perfection. Y/N slowly approaches the trio without hesitation. She doesn’t want to go near Rafe, but seeing as it doesn’t look like Sparky is nowhere near going home, she had to go get him.

 “Hey Sparky, long time no see. It’s good to see you again, Bubba. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for ya. You’ve gotten so big,” she hears him greet. As she approaches, she accidentally steps on a stick and the crack alerts the others to her presence. “Hey,” she awkwardly begins. “I’m just here for my dog.” Rafe nods and stands up, moving to wrap his hand around the woman’s waist. “Uh, yeah. I remember a time when he used to be my dog too.” Sensing the tension, his companion introduces herself, “Hi, I’m Blythe Katsumi. I’m Rafe’s fiancée.” Blythe sticks her hand out for Y/N to shake, which she does. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N. Rafe’s- uh…this is Sparky.”

“It’s okay. I know you were his high school girlfriend. He told me about you.”

“Right. And he didn’t tell me about you.”

Rafe rolls his eyes and huffs, “Yeah, well it’s not like we were doing a lot of talking in the last five years. What are you doing here, Y/L/N?” 

“You mean besides looking for my dog, in front of my house? The better question is what are you doing here Rafe?”

“I have every right to be here because unlike you, I’ve been coming back home.”

Before Y/N can retort, Blythe stops the conversation from going any further. “Well, it was lovely meeting you, but we need to go. We have to get some stuff ready for the engagement party.” Blythe waves goodbye and takes Rafe’s hand to walk away. This draws Y/N attention to Blythe's left hand with the giant diamond engagement ring. This causes a stabbing feeling to shoot through Y/N’s heart. Her hand shoots up to her locket and she begins to rub it for some comfort. This action doesn’t go unnoticed by Rafe as he catches it from the corner of his eye.

———

Everyone has their own vices. Cheating. Gambling. Alcohol. Lying. Rafe’s is drugs. There was a period of time in his life when weed was not the outlet he turned to when in need of getting out of his own head. That one blissful year he had with her was his escape instead. But after the breakup, weed was the only thing that made him forget about her. Eventually, he became numb to the weed and he needed something stronger, so Barry introduced him to cocaine. Mason didn’t know that Rafe had stepped it up in the drug department because if Mason knew, he would’ve found some way to get Rafe to stop. And Rafe didn’t want to, he needed to escape the feeling of being consumed by her. 

Before today, Rafe had managed to go a month without thinking about her at all. It was his highest record in the past five years they had been apart. There was no bookstore he walked by with a girl quite similar to her standing at the window. No hard kombucha in Mason’s fridge to indicate that she had been there. No caramel ice cream at the parlour that she would beg him to buy. It was like the universe was giving him a break from being haunted by Y/N. It seems the universe is done with giving him that gift because as he drives to Barry’s house, he is drowning in thoughts of her. He loved seeing Sparky, of course, but why did she have to come back? He couldn’t get the smell of her hibiscus body wash out of his mind. The sweet but gentle tropical scent she wore contradicted the foggy and rainy place she had moved to. Her hair is held back in a claw clip he used to play with whenever she would leave them around. 

And the thing that had really caused him to spiral is her hand still holding the locket he had given her for their first Christmas as a couple. Has she been wearing it for the past five years? Had she worn it while she let other men make her feel good, but nowhere near as good as he can make her feel? Would she wear it when she told them she loved them? But most importantly, how dare she come back to what is now only his island and wear it as if she cared for him? She hasn’t been back in years or talked to him; she doesn’t get to pretend like she’s thought about him. It is driving him crazy and he needed something to stop him from going too deep down this rabbit hole. 

Barry hears Rafe’s motorbike and is waiting outside for him. “Well, well, well, look who came back from the dead. Thought you went sober on me for a second there, country club. What can I get you for you?”

“However much you got. I got a feeling that I’m gonna be needing it more often.”

He knew he would need whatever he got his hands on to help him forget about her because if he didn’t then he would remember. And it would probably kill him to remember just how his heart almost leapt out of his chest when he saw Y/N Y/L/N right before his eyes.

———

When they broke up, Mason told both of them that he would not be used as a source to find out more about the other. He said it was for his own sanity in not wanting to be caught in the middle of his sister and best friend, but it was also in hopes that it would cause discourse between the two that would lead to their reunification. So it made sense that Mason would keep an engagement from her. But she still needed more information that she would give Mason no other choice but to give her. “How long have they been together, Mace?” Mason closes his eyes in a silent prayer that he isn’t about to have this painful conversation with his sister. He lifts his head from his laptop and turns towards her, “A year and a month. They’ve known each other for a year and a half.” 

“How long have they been engaged?”

“Four months.”

“Did you help him propose?”

“He didn’t ask.”

“How come you didn’t tell me?”

At this, Mason can hear the sadness in his sister’s voice. He knew no matter how much she says she is over Rafe, it isn’t true. It’s why she still wears his locket after all. He knew she needed to know though. 

“You know I don’t want to get in between you two. Also, I just didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want to tell you something that would hurt you so much. I love you and I want to protect you from that pain.” 

“Yeah, I get that. It just would’ve hurt less if it came from you,” she whispers, not knowing what else to ask or add to the conversation. She turns around and goes to her room, where she finds Sparky waiting for her. He gives her a pouty look, asking how come he couldn’t go with his Daddy. She sits down on her bed beside him and places his head on her lap, “I’m sorry, Bubba. But I did what I had to do. Breaking up with him was necessary. I mean I set him free and look at him now, he is getting married.” It hurt. It hurt that he was okay with marrying Blythe before he turned twenty-five. He wanted to speed up his life plan two years earlier just for Blythe. How come he was willing to do that for Blythe but not for Y/N? Was Blythe really that much better than her?

Doing what any other girl would do, Y/N resolves to some internet sleuthing. It wasn’t that hard to find Blythe’s Instagram. She has a public account and Mason is following her. She has an impressive 500K followers; probably because she is the heiress to a popular Japanese hotel chain. All her posts have her makeup done to perfection and her clothes are all designer. One of her saved reels is of her and Rafe partying on New Year's Eve. At least Blythe can keep up with Rafe on that level. Y/N moves her search to Google and finds Blythe’s Wikipedia page. She was born in New York and raised there. She attended UNC for fashion. From multiple tabloid pictures, she can tell that the party scene is one Blythe frequent but she is also a sweet girl. In one picture, she is giving her jacket to a homeless person along with some money when she is returning home from a party. She helps out at soup kitchens and takes children out on shopping sprees. Y/N supposes that Blythe could just be doing it for the media attention, but the look in Blythe’s eyes tells her it isn’t true. 

After finding out possibly everything she could find out about Blythe, Y/N turns all of her electronic devices off to stop her from spiralling on social media anymore. She heads over to her bookshelf in need of a bookish escape. Her eyes glance over the different titles until her eyes find one particular book she had not thought about it in a while. She pulls the book off the shelf and opens it up to the title page with the inscription on it. The copy of The Lightning Thief that Rafe had annotated sits before her. She had left it here when she went to university because it felt too hard to bring with her. It held too much meaning. As she sits down on her window sill, she begins to read the book with a special focus on the inscriptions. She reads for hours, allowing herself to feel every bit of emotion that passes through her. God, it hurts to be back home.

Taglist: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @gillybear17 @f4ll-for-you

[sequencer987]

I kind of hate how ridiculously hostile people get when someone mentions historical accuracy in period set media.

Like people will dogpile and mock you for having the audacity to actually want accurate clothing/culture/architecture etc.

“Who cares about historical accuracy if the story is good?” Idk sometimes historical accuracy actually allows for a much more interesting story than just slotting in the generic theme park version of your setting; plus period media that actually gives a shit about where and when it takes place is frustratingly rare (especially for video games).

Like, the way AC Odyssey and RDR2 meticulously recreate the look and feel of the eras they’re set in is legit astounding. It absolutely does make the games better.

This post is about Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla.

[the0racl30fd3lphi]

High on Cloud 9

pairing: xavier thorpe x gn!reader

warnings: fullf, established relationship, slight nudity, ouid

summary: you stumble into your inebriated boyfriend, xavier, and have to take care of him.

a/n: once again, written at half past i should probably be asleep i have work and errands tomorrow. y'all love xavier and it feeds my addiction so please enjoy!

word count: 1.2k

•••••

You'd strayed too long in the gardens, feeling the rush of life fill your veins as the plants brighten up a little in your presence. Anything that seemed like it needed a little more care and attention sought out for your touch and influence. You clipped enough chamomile from the nearby pot for two cups of tea. Just enough to refill your stash.

When people said you had a green thumb, they were telling the truth in multiple ways. Could you bring anything to life? Yeah. Did you have an affinity with foliage and plants? Sure. Were your thumbs green? Yes. But so were your whole hands just above your wrist.

Strolling through the halls trying to hide from teachers, you heard the echo of a call from a few halls down. It sounded vaguely like your name. Actually, it sounded exactly like your name because it was your name. As fast as you could you ran towards it while trying to keep quiet.

"Xavier?" You almost whisper yelled. "Why are you not in your dorm?" You approached your boyfriend quickly watching him trip over his own feet and slide down the walls laughing.

"Hi, my pretty lady," he wrapped himself around your legs in a hug, hands sat in the crook of your knees.

"Hi love, you're- oh." You tried to pull him up, but when you got closer to his face, chin resting on your thigh eyes gazing into yours, you smelt something rather familiar. Something similar to the fresh crop you grew for Ajax after he complained about his last one. You told him to use the smallest bit and dilute it for the best experience, yet with the way it was wafting off of Xavier you figured he probably didn't. "Yes come on love, lets go."

It took a hefty sum out of you to drag Xavier to this dorm, since you had to make sure no one caught you. But between his mumbles and drabbles about his fingers, the floors, the ceilings "no one seem to appreciate!"

"That's all fine, just move your hand for me," you could barely entertain his rambles as you fished your hand in his pocket to grab his keys and unlock the door.

"Y'know, this whole place is built so wonderful and gothically," he slumped against the wall when you bent to pull his shoes off. "the ceilings look like something straight out of an architecture.. history book.. or something." You pulled the layers of him and left him in a t-shirt and his joggers to sit him at his desk. "Why doesn't anyone look up and appreciate it more?" He was laid down in the star position now, giggly and admiring the roof of his dorm.

"I don't know darling," you hummed and started heating up some water on the electric kettle you left in Xavier's room a month ago. Next to it was a mug, waiting to be filled. You searched through your bag for the jar of honey Eugene gave you earlier, and the lemons Ms. Thornhill gave you after class. You were known for your obsession with teas so you needed to have the hookups for everything you needed when you weren't at home, in your garden conservatory.

"Xavier, lovely, get up and shower yeah?" You urged him from the side as you pulled out some fresh clothes for him.

"Are you my mother or my girlfriend?" He muttered as he got up and stumbled towards you. He gazed at you from his height with those big green doe eyes as he grabbed your hands, laying a kiss to the back of your hands before pressing his forehead against yours.

"You've called me both," pushing to your tiptoes you planted a quick kiss to his lips before playfully tapping his ass and directing him towards the bathroom shower. He laugh loudly and tipped his head all the way back before floating into the shower and slipping out a "yes ma'am!" before closing the door.

•••••

You'd settled comfortably on his bed, picking up where you left off with your edition of Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf, when you heard a knock from the shower, and the soft mumble of your name.

Sliding off his bed and padding to the door, you creaked it open and slipped your head through, "Yes, love?" You called to him. Quickly you found his sitting form peaking out through the curtain, resting on the side of the tub. "Can you wash my hair please?" He pouted and pleaded with you.

"Of course Xavi, one minuet." The shower seemed to have relaxed him even more he almost fell asleep feeling the warmth. You peeled off your sweater and changed into a pair of his boxers in case you got wet. Which, knowing Xavier, he'd probably try to pull you in and you liked your outfit too much.

Kneeling down by the tub was the only comfortable position you could get in without being completely soaked. You put a dollop of shampoo on your hands, lathered it up, and started combing your fingers through his hair and scrubbing into his scalp. "Baby keep your head up, don't go loose on me now," you slipped a wet kiss on his cheek and he smiled.

There's something so intimate about washing someone's hair for them. The head, the scalp, its such a sensitive and delicate place that trusting someone with it blindly feels like such an honor. Xavier had a rough upbringing and some rough trust issues, and how he asked you to do take care of you made you feel privileged.

Carefully, as if he was fragile glass that would shatter at a cold breath, you wove through the knots, tangles, built up tenseness. It was such a wonderful and vulnerable experience. The woody scent of his shampoo and conditioner flew through the air and gave the room such a warm and inviting smell.

You reached for the shower head and softly rinsed all the soap out of his hair and wrapped a towel around his head to keep it all together until you could dry it. He helped you somewhat, drying himself off while you carded through his clothes, that he dumped on the floor with the clean pile, to find what was fresh to put him in.

Helping him into his clothes you than sat him down on the toilet while you grabbed the blow dryer. At this point he got cuddly and wrapped his arms around your middle, head completely buried in your stomach. Barely enough to breath but just enough to live. You kissed the top of his head and chuckled while you started blow drying his hair. It was a feat, he gave you very limited room for motion so it was tough to maneuver but you did it.

The two of you settled into a warm embrace as you put a movie on your laptop to lull you both to bed. Xavier, fresh and warm, drinking his sweet chamomile tea, quickly passed out. You had enough time to put everything away and get comfortable again before sleep quickly claimed you too.

You two always sleep better together, but something in the air tonight felt different, and the sleep was unlike any other rest you'd had.

And just like that night, just like the tea, the morning was just as gentle and loving.

•••••

@animesimp3456 @iovaki @navs-bhat @hellllloooosstuff @555stargirl555 @quinn165 @raeboo @heehooyeslol @leyseyb @aunicornmademedoit @regulus-black-223048 @o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o @pagesfalling @fanfictioniseverything @trickylittlewitch @baziutawrites @mxltifxnd0m @l-3rk @gumballsglassofmilk @bloodyziggy @ur-mom-is-h0t

[kkanabel]

caffeine addiction - chapter 11

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader / Coffee Shop! + Fashion? AU

directory/m.list

⇦ previous chapter - next chapter ⇨

words: ~2.8k

One espresso shot at a time turned into three shots of espresso at a time, but it was all being downed by you. Both you and Bakugou were currently in the back room of the Kindeki store next door for your daily work after your shift at the coffee shop, which Bakugou had to hire more employees for. The coffee shop was currently bustling– next door was loud and filled with chatter of something along the lines of “When will they be back?”

The cork boards on the walls were covered from top to bottom in a spread of photos of Gothic Architecture– rib vaults, flying buttresses, and elaborate tracery all framing stained glass windows. Papers with designs, patterns, and sketches were sprawled all over the mahogany desks. A couple of these papers had coffee stains on them. Bakugou leaned back in his chair with a sigh, flinching when the pencil tucked behind his ear fell behind him onto the polished marble ground with a thunk. You drank the last of your iced espresso shot before picking up the fallen pencil and placing your sketchpad onto Bakugou’s brown corduroy-clad lap. 

Bakugou in his zone was truly something to admire. He wore blue light glasses when researching online to reduce strain in his eyes, but did they suit him well. It was a blessing to see him in these moments– all focused while sketching up a storm– pencil lead all over his fingers from blending the graphite onto the paper. “Dramatic, but not overwhelming…” He’d mutter while taking a picture from the cork board and using it as a reference for a pair of pants. Each stroke of his pencil was so easy and well-practiced, making it look easy. He could transform something from his mind onto paper and then fabric like it was made for him– and it was. Red eyes narrowed in on a small imperfection on the paper, and it would disappear like it never existed. 

The entire day was filled with espresso shot after the other– and after that were your brainstorming sessions with Bakugou. Deep plums and jewel tones paired with blacks and grays offset with metallics filled the room along with intricate lace that you spent days designing yourself. The room was filled with a litany of different cloths and fabrics– some stiff and some flowy. Combining luxurious, draping fabrics with strong silhouettes that emphasize shoulders, cinched waists, and long, flowing elements reminiscent of Gothic cathedrals’ towering height with intricate embroidery mimicking Gothic rose windows and lace patterns that resemble wrought-iron gates.

You work on embroidery that mimics the stained glass windows of 12th century cathedrals, ensuring symmetry in the embroidery and a touch of asymmetry in the silhouette to imitate the cathedral as a whole. You’re planning on putting actual pieces of glass onto the dress’ corset later.

You take a step back and stand over the desk, arms crossed, eyeing the latest design Bakugou just sketched out. The jacket’s sharp, angular lines mimic the Gothic arches you’ve been obsessing over for weeks, but something feels off. “It’s too… aggressive,” you say, tilting your head. “We’re going for structured, but this feels like it’s about to stab someone.” “Tch. It’s Gothic. It’s supposed to look like it could stab someone,” Bakugou retorts, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. “You said ‘sharp,’ and that’s what you’re getting.” Rolling your eyes, you grab the pencil from his hand and start redrawing the shoulder lines, softening the angles just slightly. “I meant sharp in a stylish way. Not like... this is going to start a fight in the conference room.” Bakugou snorts, watching you make adjustments. “Isn’t that the whole point of fashion? Making people talk, starting shit?”

You pause for a moment, considering his words. “Okay, maybe. But I want them to talk about how good it looks, not how dangerous it is to wear.” “Some people like danger,” he quips, raising an eyebrow at you with a dangerous smirk playing on his lips. “Maybe you’re just scared to take risks.” “Risks?” You turn to him with a raised brow. “I’m the one embroidering literal stained glass into a dress. If anything, you’re the one playing it safe.” Bakugou leans in a little, his red eyes glinting with amusement. “Oh, yeah? I’d say I’m taking a pretty big risk working with someone who can’t even keep up with me.” You backup a little and scoff, ignoring the way your heart clenches at his teasing tone. “Please. I’m doing the hard part here. You just scribble a couple lines and call it a day.” His toothy grin widens, and he nudges the sketchpad toward you. “If it’s so easy, why don’t you do the pants, too?”

“Because I’m not trying to show off like you,” you say, pushing the pad back at him. “But if you need my help, just say the word.” Bakugou chuckles lowly. “Help? You wish. You just wanna see me sweat.” His eyes flit down to your lower face for a split second. You blink, not catching the double meaning in his words. “What? No, I just… ugh, whatever. Just finish the damn pants.” You check a nearby mirror to make sure you don’t have anything in your teeth– why was he looking there? He leans back, folding his arms behind his head, watching as you turn back to your embroidery. “You’re cute when you get all flustered.” “Flustered?” you mutter, not really paying attention. “I’m not flustered. I’m just trying to fix your mess.”

Bakugou chuckles again, the sound low and teasing. “Whatever you say, princess.” You pause but brush it off, assuming he’s just being his usual cocky self. “Just focus, Bakugou. I don’t want to be stuck here all night.” He smirks to himself, watching you concentrate on the embroidery, completely oblivious to the small ways he’s been trying to get under your skin. “Yeah, yeah. But don’t worry—you’re not getting rid of me that easily.” Rolling your eyes, you get back to work at your station. Your fingers glide over luxurious fabric, testing the weight, the drape. The wool you chose for the structured blazer clings to your fingertips, sturdy yet pliant under your touch. "It's still missing something," you mumble, tracing a pattern you’ve yet to commit to paper. Beside you, Bakugou furrows his brow, lost in his sketchbook, muttering half-formed ideas. The soft scratch of his pencil across the page fills the air, almost rhythmic, like a second heartbeat in the room. “Do you think we need a stronger contrast here?” you ask, holding up a swatch of deep plum silk next to the black jacquard fabric that’s been frustrating you all day.

He glances up, blue light glasses sliding down his nose. “It’ll look washed out. Try a metallics to bring out the color,” he suggests, eyes flicking back down to his sketch without waiting for a response. It’s so casual, so assured. He doesn’t doubt himself—not for a second—and the way his hands move from sketch to reference, it’s infuriating how easily his mind works through these problems.

Meanwhile, your sketchbook is a mess of crossed-out lines and question marks, drafts discarded before they even make it to the final page. You flip through your notes, eyeing the reference photos pinned to the corkboard. Flying buttresses and towering arches loom in the background, begging to be translated into the clean lines of a suit or a dress.

“I think I’ve got it.” You grab your sketchpad, pulling it back onto your lap. Sharp, structured lines—just like pointed arches—make their way onto the page. Your pencil flies, inspired. “This! Like pointed arches! Sharp, structured, but with curves!” you exclaim, waving the sketch in Bakugou’s direction.

He stops long enough to glance over. “Not bad,” he grunts, but his fingers twitch toward your sketchpad. “Let me fix the angle here. And you need a stronger taper at the waist.” Before you can protest, he’s taken your design and made a few deft adjustments that somehow elevate the whole thing.

You watch in begrudging admiration as he perfects it effortlessly. Each stroke of his pencil adds depth, structure—it's flawless, and somehow, irritatingly so. There’s no denying it: Bakugou was born to do this. 

You bite back the jealousy that nags at you, pushing yourself to sketch with renewed vigor. The stakes are high, and you’re not about to let him outshine you. Not when this collection—the fusion of Gothic splendor and cutting-edge business fashion—is yours just as much as his. 

Your hand flies across the pages, the scratches of the pencil against paper mixed with the trills of music sung in Middle English to truly encapsulate the feeling of the medieval architecture you were emulating on paper. 

Your hand cramps as you set the pencil down, finally satisfied with the latest design. The blazer dress, now meticulously sketched out with pointed arches forming elegant, sharp lapels, lies sprawled on the desk between the two of you. Bakugou leans back in his chair, one arm draped over the backrest, surveying his sketches with a critical eye.

“Looks like we’ve nailed the structure,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair, which has grown messy from hours of working in silence. You nod, rubbing at your temples, the espresso shots from earlier starting to wear off. Just as you’re about to suggest a break, Bakugou’s phone lights up on the desk, buzzing incessantly. At first, he ignores it—he's been too immersed in perfecting the collection to care about any distractions. But the buzzing doesn't stop.

He frowns, picking up the phone. You can tell from the sudden tension in his jaw that something’s up.

“What is it?” you ask, stretching your arms over your head.

“Tch. It’s my mom.” Bakugou’s expression shifts from mild annoyance to a mixture of confusion and disbelief as he scans through the string of notifications. He scrolls for a moment, and then his phone buzzes again, this time with a notification from the Masaki store’s account.

He glances up at you, his red eyes sharp. “Check your phone.”

A sense of unease curls in your stomach as you reach for your own device. The moment you unlock it, you see it—another flood of Instagram notifications, messages, and emails. All your social media apps are practically screaming for your attention. You swipe to your email, eyes widening as you scroll through the dozens—no, thousands—of pre-order confirmations. The Kindeki PR team has emailed you countless times– along with dozens of journalists asking for an interview.

“What the hell…” you whisper under your breath.

The notifications are relentless, and when you switch to Instagram, you finally understand. The Masaki Official account has posted the photo—the one from the café. The picture of you and Bakugou, mid-laugh, caught in a candid moment of camaraderie and partnership and… something else. The caption is simple but effective: “Fashion royalty at work. Coming soon: Masa x Kin x Deki collection.”

Your jaw drops as you read the comments beneath the photo.

“CUTEST COUPLE”

“fashion royalty fr… they a couple tho??”

“take all my money NOW.”

You scroll down further, but the app glitches momentarily, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of activity. Your phone buzzes again, but it’s Bakugou who breaks the silence first, reading from an email: “Sales are up by 65%. Pre-orders are through the roof.” You look up at him, wide-eyed, but he’s already dialing his mom. “Oi, what the hell did you post?” From behind you, another notification dings: Kindeki (aka your precious aunt) has just uploaded a behind-the-scenes video on the store’s Instagram. In the background, you hear a familiar cackle from Bakugou’s mom. You glance over at Bakugou, who catches your expression with an eye roll. “Looks like we’re not done yet.”

The clang of the last chair being stacked on the table echoed through the empty café, a quiet contrast to the buzzing streetlights outside. The Kindeki shop was already locked, but you followed Bakugou to his café to close. You yawned, rubbing your eyes as you pulled down the metal shutter halfway. The day had been long—filled with both customers and creativity. Bakugou was wiping down the counter, his movements deliberate, but you could see the tension in his shoulders. The quiet was almost comforting after the frenzy of the day. “I’ll lock up,” Bakugou grunted, grabbing the keys from the hook. You nodded, moving to flip off the last few lights when suddenly, the distinct murmur of voices outside the window grew louder. You froze, glancing toward the front of the café. You swore you saw a flash of light from outside the shop for a split second.

“Bakugou… what’s that?” you asked cautiously, squinting through the glass door. He moved past you, standing close enough for you to catch the heat radiating off him as he squinted out into the street. A low grunt rumbled in his throat, and you followed his gaze. Outside, you could see them—reporters, camera flashes lighting up the dusk, a couple of people holding phones up, trying to capture any glimpse of movement inside. The soft murmur had turned into a low buzz of voices and questions being thrown into the air. “Great,” you muttered, “exactly what we need.” “Tch, of course they’d show up now.” Bakugou rolled his eyes, glaring at the crowd. “Stupid vultures.” He crossed his arms, muscles tensing as he glanced over at you. “Stay behind me.” He moved toward the door, his hand clenching around the keyring in his palm, eyes narrowed like he was already considering breaking some cameras. “Are we seriously doing this?” you asked, following him but keeping a slight distance. The last thing you wanted was your face on a hundred Instagram stories and all over news articles.

Bakugou glanced over his shoulder, his lips curving into a smirk. “What, scared of a little attention? You’re the one who wanted to be in fashion, remember?” You rolled your eyes, biting back a retort as he unlocked the door just enough to speak through the crack. “Shop’s closed,” he barked at the crowd, voice low but sharp enough to cut through the noise. “Bakugou! Are you and her working on a new line together?” “What’s the inspiration for the upcoming season?” “Any truth to the rumors about your relationship?” You winced at the last question. Bakugou’s scowl deepened. “Back off,” he growled. “Get a damn life.” He slammed the door shut, locking it in one swift motion before turning to you. “We’re getting out of here.” You blinked. “And how, exactly, are we going to do that? They’re right outside.” His smirk widened, mischief dancing in his crimson eyes. “There’s two back exits, genius. You think I don’t plan for this kinda crap?”

Without waiting for a response, he grabbed your wrist and tugged you along. The café lights dimmed behind you as he led you through the narrow hallway toward the back door. The sound of your footsteps echoed softly, mingling with the faint buzz of reporters still stationed outside. Once outside, Bakugou paused, glancing around before pulling you along again. The back alley was empty, the cool night air brushing against your skin as the two of you hurried through the narrow path. The distant hum of the city faded slightly, replaced by the more familiar sounds of your breathing and Bakugou’s muttered complaints about the reporters. You exhaled in relief as you made it a few blocks away, the noise fading. “Guess we’re a hot topic now, huh?” Bakugou’s voice was teasing, but there was an undercurrent of pride in it. You shot him a look, shaking your head. “I didn’t sign up for this level of attention.” He shrugged, smirking as he crossed his arms. “Too late, princess. Fame comes with a price.” There was a glint of amusement in his eyes as he added, “You better get used to it.”

You were about to retort when you felt the heat of his gaze settle on you, a little too heavy, a little too intense. He took a step closer, just enough for you to notice the way his eyes lingered on yours, something unreadable in them. Before you could say anything, he dropped the teasing smirk and muttered, “I’ll protect you from those vultures. Grew up with it. But don’t expect me to be this nice all the time.” You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden softness in his voice. He turned and started walking ahead before you could respond, leaving you standing there, heart fluttering slightly as you tried to make sense of the tension in the air. “Come on,” he called over his shoulder, “we’ve got work to do tomorrow.” And just like that, the moment was gone, leaving you wondering how Bakugou could make your heart race with just a few words. As the two of you walked side by side, the city lights flickering above, you couldn’t help but glance at him, a small smile tugging at your lips.

a/n: we're back!

lol not beta read again please let me know if you see any typos or anything that's just like. wrong.

i had a looooot of trouble with writing this chapter bc describing clothing aint my best suit, but we're workin on it (thats why im writing this fic in the first place tbh) :> also, my taglist is open! thank you to @itztaki for being the first LOL-- just message me or comment on this if you'd like to be added!

thank you for reading & stay hydrated, y'all <3

directory/m.list

⇦ previous chapter - next chapter ⇨ Taglist: @itztaki

[cecilioque]

VOLO’S OUTFIT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE BAD. And here is why I think so...

To begin, we are not talking about the Ginko guild design, we are talking about the “final boss” fit. We all know that Volo’s outfit is dumb, but I’m mad because it  was actually thought out and VERY symbolic in the sense that it essentially represented things Volo said/wanted.

I, like everyone else looked at this outfit and went “wow, that is dumb” and then hated on it.  Although it is not the most appealing or cool outfit, there was actually a lot of thought that went into it. I could be really over analyzing this, but here is my interpretation.

To begin with, the concept art is a lot more revealing about the intention of the design then the actual game play.  On a surface level we see Volo in what I can only assume is a Arceus gijinka cosplay.  So the hair, the stars, and color scheme are all elements of Arceu’s  design.  Cool. Good job especially since Volo had in fact never seen Arceus before.

To fully understand this outfit we have to go back to Hisui and the remains of this so called “ancient civilization”. In the Pokemon world, there is this general idea that the ancient culture was either Roman or Greek inspired. We see evidence in Legends of Arceus by the obvious column heavy architecture and use of Greek Doric columns ( one of the earliest styles of columns used for temples) and in the ruins and temple. 

The Temple of Sinnoh is obviously based off of the Parthenon. It’s funny because game freak went as far as to even mimic both Ionic and Doric styles in the Temple of Sinnoh just like the Parthenon. I will go as far to add that the Sinnoh temple is much simpler than the Parthenon due to the fact that it was not embellished with an elaborately carved frieze or any decoration on the exterior for the most part.  Bizarre when even the broken ruins have evidence of some sort of ornamentation. It makes complete sense why the game developers chose this style seeing how is is know for being very simplistic.  But it also dates it in context.  It makes the Temple of Sinnoh the first temple that was build and the others that followed were build as the civilization grew ( thus more elaborate but we can only see the crumbled remains).

I will be ignoring the Snowpoint temple because it is a weird combination of styles and almost seems alien and out of place which very much fits the Regi theme.  It is also based on the early game design which was limited and blocky for game space sake.

Ok, heavy Greek and Roman influence. Back to Volo and his obviously Greek and Roman fit.  Volo’s name itself means “I wish”  in latin and could possibly be a reference to the phrase “volō, ergo sum” (I wish, therefore I am). Very in character since it is the wish for more” and he did everything he could to achieve that.

The actual influence for the design is more Roman in nature. This bothered me because we can see that research and thought went into it, but they just simplified it. And this actually has a point.

To begin with the obvious stuff, we see that volo’s shirt is definitely toga like. It even goes so far to be decorated with a Fibula (brooch)in a way that indicates a higher rank or status.  Cool Volo, we get that you think highly of yourself. Color choice is also same as Arceus, but we also know that white togas were also used by senators and high political officers.

Next , the shoes.  These are just the basic stereotypical Spirit Halloween Greek god/goddess type of sandals you can get at your local costume shop.  This was actually the most disappointing part of the outfit for me. But it makes sense they went with the most simplified and recognizable style.  They wanted us to look at this outfit and go “ Wow, Volo has been studying his myths and recreated an outfit”. This is what you could expect someone to create with just a written description of the clothing used during that time.

The necklace is interesting because it stands out so much compared to the gold colors. I am no sure what they were going for here by making it so prominent, but it brings us to an interesting thought.  If they necklace does have meaning, it is related directly to the design/shape.  The waterdrop could be the Greek symbolism for "tears of grace” or in a sense “gods grace”. The idea that the tears of god water the harvest and provide life. Alternate interpretations could simply be water as a source of life, or a symbol or sadness a mourning.  If it is a symbol of of mourning, this might be a clue to why Volo might desire to rewrite the world so much.

Last but not least, the pants. I think we can all decide this is one of the worst parts of the outfit, and to me it is just straight up confusing for two main reasons.  For starters, the color green is so prominent when green is an accent color on Arceus.  So maybe the color has meaning itself.  But if you look at the image above, the color mainly refers to life and “the harvest” (possibly like the necklace).  It has a weird connections to life and creation itself, which probably is why it was included in Arceus’ design and makes sense as Volo essentially wants to become the creator of life in a new world.

But this isn’t the part that gets me the most. The second thing that confuses me is the fact that the Greeks and Romans did not use pants.  This was because pants were associated with non-Roman/Greek cultures (the Germanic tribes and Vikings) who they looked down upon. On top of that, the Greeks thought pants were feminine and silly.  This could also just simply be a design choice because they didn’t wanna draw Volo in a full toga and accidently make him look like Christ. But this leads to my final point of the physical outfit itself.

VOLO’S OUTFIT WASN’T SUPPOSED TO BE GOOD. IT’S SUPPOSED TO LOOK DORKY AND BAD BECAUSE IT WAS FLAWED! This is based on the real world cultures it was based on. And although Volo may have done a lot of research, he still didn’t completely understand ancient culture.  It’s bad because Volo made it himself. His outfit was flawed just like his ideology. It is his own interpretation of a culture that he had idolized without truly understanding that this great and ancient culture crumbled. And based off of the architecture of the ruins and temples, it never even reached a prime before it fell.

But Volo thinks its correct/cool/accurate. He is being a fool about it because he didn’t understand the bigger picture and had become consumed with this desire for power and control.  This as an idea is really cool and I find it funny that you can also wear the outfit. Its essentially mocking him. If we look at the outfit in this light, the design was a success in getting us to dislike it and evoke this distaste. We didn’t know why, but this is why.

SO IN SUMMARY, OUTFIT WAS BAD ON PURPOSE. It wasn’t thoughtless, in fact there was a lot of research behind it and yet that seems to be thrown out to simplify the design in a way that looks like someone hand made it based off of what they had put together themselves.

But this isn’t my favorite part  of the concept art.  My favorite part is the hands.

Look at his hands. Why are they in those positions? Wouldn’t it have been easier to create more standard poses?  To me the hand gestures here are just too specific. So I started digging around for what they could be on a Art history level.  I looked at Non Christian art first and then Christian symbolism within their mosaics, illuminated manuscripts, and paintings. And I found some verrrry interesting similarities.  I am not trying to make this religious. I just found some interesting similarities between old Christian art and Volo’s design.  Which makes sense if we go back to this Greek/Roman influence because these cultures eventually converted to Christianity.  And Arceus is kind of a weird goat god Jesus.

The left hand is where the biggest symbolism is.  Basically, this hand gesture has been used to indicate “the hand of god” or the “hand of justice”.  Christ sometimes is draw with a similar hand position and could be a sign of the cross, but this would also refer to some sort of divinity.  I will also note that Volo is in no way making the classic “blessing” hand gesture.

As for the right hand he is making what I assume is a Greek/Roman orator (speaker) gesture. This would mean that Volo is calling for attention. Note, that I didn't’ compare this to prophets. That’s because orators speak for themselves and prophets for god.  And Volo thinks he is god.

Under this context, in the concept art Volo is essentially saying “I am God”.  If we add the symbolism of his outfit, it only further solidifies this idea.  Volo’s outfit/concept comes together and screams “behold, I am god , the hand of justice. I will be the creator or the new world”. Which is so freaking clever because that’s literally what he tells you. 

Sure his hands are switched and lowered compared to actual real world art examples (thank you Game freak for not throwing in actual religious symbols/gestures), but I think the intention is still there.  It’s so good that I am mad.  So as much as I hate this dumb outfit, I cannot deny that it was well thought out, that the character was well thought out.

To conclude, these are my assumptions. I am not an expert on art history or religion.  If you have further insights on this feel free to share. I’d be interested with what others had to add.  I the end this could all be wrong and just crazy for overthinking the designs of a pokemon character, but it just seems too intentional to be carelessly thrown together. This is just one possible interpretation.

Though its just more evidence in my mind that a lot of love and care went into developing Legends of Arceus. Despite their limitations and resources.

[monster-untamed]

A long post about my hearthome

Context- I must explain first… If you are an alterhuman that’s not familiar with my blog, I gotta explain I’m a turtle spirit/god

So take that information now because this post will make so much more sense if you know that about me lol

also please excuse spelling errors

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Intro-I don’t think of myself as a past life aterhuman, but I am for sure a spiritual alterhuman.

In short, my experience is knowing my species identity not as a “I was once this” but rather “I was supposed to be this”

My hearthome is a similar thought. I know I was supposed to be born (or hatched) there but something failed in a cycle of either reincarnation or karma.

I am certain that I belong there but I’ve never actually been to the place. All I get are glimpses of it.

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What it looks like- My hearthome is just one big  continent on an otherwise completely oceanic planet, with a few small islands scattered around the sea. It’s very similar to Earth’s Pangea.

I was supposed to be from one of the small islands but we’ll get back to that later…

The continent itself is very jungle-like and possesses bioluminescent rivers and ponds. Most of the architecture was built similarly to early eastern Asian architecture. As for the islands, most remained untouched but others were formed into small villages of huts and treehouses.

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Who lived there- There are a variety of creatures that inhabit the world but the major ones are humans, animals, and ‘animal gods’ or demigods.

Demigods are usually half animal/half humanoid but some demigods were even created to be a place of elements. (oceans, forests, mountains, stars, etc)

I am a demigod from this world and I mostly resemble a green sea turtle but sometimes I see myself as a red eared slider, I’m not actually sure

All demigods or elemental beings were created by dragons, who were complete gods. Some dragons became teachers for the newly spawned demigods to show them their ways and philosophies but very rarely.

They have to have a very big plan for you if they are going to teach you forbidden knowledge when you were just born.

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What was the culture like- Now that you know some information about the main continent, I would like to shift the subject to my island home. The name of the island was never told to me but I do know about the practices and beliefs we share.

Opalite is extremely important to us. My clan uses them to create  spears, bowls, and jewelry. The way we get these gems is not really possible in the current world I live in, because opalite here needs to be crafted by a human, but in my hearthome, the gems would be formed from the sand and would scatter the ocean floor until someone swam to the bottom to retrieve a piece. Grabbing your first opalite is very much of a ride of passage for my village.

Unlike the people/creatures on the continent who honor dragons, we chose another creature to be our symbol, Orcas. We know the significance of the dragons of course but we put more praise in the creatures we see everyday, rather than dragons that only resided in the main areas of the world.

Makes sense now, knowing that I’m orcahearted

The food we prepare on the island is always amazing. We usually hunt our own fish and grow our own fruits. Most of the fruits that exist on the island sadly don’t exist on this world.

Surfing and sailing is how my village got around to other islands or to the continent, but mainly we did it for fun.

Clothing is usually loose and silky. Mainly lots of beads, gems, and lightweight fabric. Shoes aren’t worn unless you are traveling a long distances, then you would wear geta shoes or something of the sort.

Our music is what I miss/yearn for the most. I wish I could describe it but it’s like it doesn’t want to translate into human words. I don’t think I can verbally illustrate it in a way that gives it justice. It feels like water…? It makes you feel like water is rushing around you, like you are in the center of a river made only of sound.

I think I should stop here, as I am loosing my words…

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I apologize if this one was an info dump but I appreciate you reading through all this, even if you are one of the sneaky critters that skipped to the end.

I wish I knew more. I wish I could truly be there but that’s not possible. All I have are visions that I hold close to my chest that I now share with you :)

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[indignantlemur]

My dear Indi, I need your expertise !

Do you have any ideas or headcanons for Andorian outfits, from lighter to warmer? What would they look like in general, what texture is most appreciated or considered fashionable ?

Thanks ! 💙

Hello Zier! Let's see what I can do for you! Fair warning, this one is going to be image-heavy.

For the most part, Andorian fashion in my headcanons isn't unified. Different folks prefer to wear different things, same as Humans, but there are broader elements that are quite common.

Firstly, we know from ENT and subsequent appearances in the modern Treks that Andorians tend to wear a lot of leather, often embossed or tooled to have a particular sort of feel. The samples below from Discovery give me powerful 2009-2013 Gareth Pugh vibes.

Beyond that, the only other time we see Andorians is when they're in Imperial Guard or Starfleet uniforms, which mostly just gives an overall impression of leather, suede, and future-kevlar.

The Andorian ambassador in "Terra Prime" had a very different feel from these, of course, and that shiny outer robe ultimately inspired Thoris' official get-up.

By contrast, some super early screen tests and comic book depictions for everyday Andorians look rather different, however. We've got draping fabrics, robes, tunics, some thigh high boots, and what looks like bits of armoured studding and chainmail. That's quite the departure from the other depictions!

And then, of course, we have Shran's post-Imperial Guard coat. This one gets its own mention, because that coat is fabulous.

Honestly, this isn't a lot to work with. It's better than nothing, of course, but the different depictions feel very disjointed and all over the place. There's no sense of unity in the designs across the board.

So, from there I looked to real-world fashion to help me build a better idea of what I wanted my Andorians to actually look like outside of a uniform. As much as their depictions would lead us to believe that Andorians have an oddly prevalent leather kink, that's really not practical. Leather is a useful material, and certainly a heavily carnivorous population would end up with quite a lot of it, but surely that can't be everything they wear. So, I started looking around for things that felt like they fit the vague aesthetic we were given to work with.

Below are some samples from the ungodly huge pinterest board I keep for ideas and references for Andorian fashion. I think these mostly hit all the key notes for my headcanons.

A lot of these images are very bland in terms of colour, particularly by Andorian standards, but I think you should be able to see what I've drawn inspiration from.

What I ended up with was a combination of future-fashion elements, and influences from places like Japan and India - with a heavy slant towards using leather, silk, velvet and occasionally soft, drapey fabrics. Heavy ornamentation, such as embroidery, is very common but lacework on clothing is actually quite unusual. Andorians tend to find it catches on their chitin and tears too often to be worth the fuss.

In particular, I really like the idea of layers, off-set or asymmetrical necklines, and elements of structural/architectural fashion for Andorians. Tooled leather is very popular, as well.

Another detail about Andorian fashion that I've mentioned a few times in other posts is that they like to show off their chitin patterns. Often this is done using leather as the medium, but embroidery is also a perfectly acceptable option. Often times, these articles of clothing (usually outerwear but not always) will have a Clan sigil somewhere on it as well, but it's not at all a requirement. These practices accomplish a couple of different things:

Firstly, it offers prospective playmates a tantalising 'preview' of what's underneath. Andorians are not shy about these things, nor do they understand why aliens think they should be. Some Andorians find particular types of chitin patterns very attractive, while some are averse to partners with what they perceive to be too much or too little chitin - or worse, chitin patterns that are far too similar to their own, which would suggest a shared lineage somewhere.

Secondly, it shows off Clan affiliations, especially for Clan members who were not born with their Clan's 'typical' chitin pattern. (Married individuals will often wear things that show their affiliation to both their birth Clan and their marriage Clan, as well, though these are usually ornamental items such as jewellery or hair pieces.)

Thirdly, wearing one's Clan affiliations stamped on their sleeves can sometimes serve as a conflict deterrent. Some Clans are just not worth picking a fight with, and knowing who's who ahead of time instead of after someone says something spectacularly stupid tends to save lives. Since the Unification, the need for these sorts of deterrents has dropped substantially, but it's never entirely gone from Andorian society.

This is not to say that I imagine that all Andorians wear the same things. Being able to express individual preferences is very important, especially in a society where most other individualistic pursuits are seen as counter-productive to the harmony and unity of a community.

Shral, for example, deviates from the norm by preferring dark colours and minimal ornamentation. To other Andorians, his sartorial choices are almost conspicuously bland. On the other end of the spectrum, Thelen adores vivid colours - neon oranges, shocking yellows, acid greens - and fully embraces the bombastic colour palettes his people are known for. Thoris is doomed to be trapped in billowing robes he'd much rather burn in a steel drum behind the embassy under cover of darkness, but he prefers layered tunics, boots, and breeches that don't inhibit his movement. Vrath is in the middle of the road, favouring bold colours and practical clothing but never quite able to resist bits of ornamentation that give her wealthy Tha'an Clan allegiance away. Miraal, on the other hand, adore soft, draping fabrics and wears very little leather, or any other similarly heavy materials, and she prefers to wear minimal ornamentation so as not to distract from her wares.

In terms of seasonal clothing, Andorians can tolerate very broad rangers of temperatures, and they have thermal regulators built into much of their clothing. They can get away with quite a lot, in terms of weather, but a heavily cultivated sense of caution generally prevents them from wandering out into surface conditions wearing anything less than full winter gear - though, naturally, their idea of full winter gear is rather lighter than what a Human would go in for. In extreme heat, Andorians have no problem wearing as little as possible - often to the consternation of other species who do not share their total lack of nudity taboos.

Regarding colours, I headcanon that much like how Vulcans view green as a traditional mating colour owing to the hue of their blood, and Humans view red much the same way, so too do Andorians with the colour blue. Just wearing blue alone isn't an invitation for anything, but it is very noticeable and considered a very attractive colour. Wearing a particularly fetching shade of blue while lurking in a bar and being very noticeably single, however...

Andorian silk is a luxury item, and one in high demand. Made from cocoons harvested from a domesticated relative of the infamous Andorian ice borers, it's ten times stronger than Terran silk, rendering it resistant to slashing and piercing damage. It can be woven into heavy brocades or crafted into a diaphanous, organza-like material, or blended with other fibres. It almost always has a slight iridescent or even metallic shine to it, a highly coveted property, and it is ludicrously expensive.

Hope this helps! <3