#he's reading the news... cruel happenings all around no mans land... have to keep up to know where to go next and where to avoid

[ruporas]

in a mood (ID in alt)

[urspiritualnurse]

•Pick a pile. (Left to right.)

"The drop of sun in you, speaks."

Pile 1.

In this pile, I see a man working hard to climb up the grand hills, years of dedication to a certain cause, project, relationship, beliefs, self-image, perception, etc.

He successfully reaches the summit, and he becomes part of the tall mountains.

Yet one day, he falls from his hard earned grace. He stumbles on his own two feet and crashes down, reaching down to the very low of his start.

And I see the man reasonably in despair and drought, dreadfully mopping around life, too exhausted to even begin again.

But I'm being told by the drop of sun in you, that prosperity and success that you planted in the fields of a tall mountain can also be planted to the steep lands of a start.

Sometimes, we prefer a tall altitude and perceive everything of it as the most glorious and admirable, but that's the nature of life, height......will always fluctuate.

Such measurements of what is better or worse rarely are permanent.

When the belief and trust is in your own capabilities to create, regardless of the place you are in.

You will be prosperous in all.

For the height is to a man, a wearable garment, he might willingly forsake or be......forced to.

But a man can not unwear himself, tragic it is sometimes for we are intolerable to ourselves.....

Where did you fall from? It must have been something brilliant that you worked hard to build.....tragic it is that it was stripped away from you.....

It will sound very discouraging, but it is not my intention to corner your hope.

Our created success, sometimes, is like a table cloth lay bared, we put on top of it, all of our earnings and crafts......years and years of dedication decorated on a bowl, we place it all in it......but.....we are often not so far reaching in our sight.......the cloth that we spread on top, sometimes is but a hem of God's cloak......he walks away on his own freewill but what we lay bare on it, gets ruined .....with each of his forwarding footstep, spilling all of our earnings......

It's not his fault, neither yours.......

Same with circumstances and heights, they are but a cloth you have spread all of your hopes and dreams on, you can not nail it in one place....to acquire certainty....stability.......it will eventually slip away.......

It's a cruel thing to experience, you meticulously walk into life......that is like an enormous dining hall, there are many tables, empty and bare.......we pick and choose one, depending on our intelligent judgements,and then place all our crafts on top of it.......time goes by and suddenly some beyond entity walks in and pulls away the porcelain cloth, with insensible strength..........knocking down all that you had worked on so hard.

That has happened, unfortunately to us all, more so, you at this very moment.

This knowledge, let it be your empowerment to further reclaim your independence.....it is not the height that made you competent......it was your own two hands, mind, heart and essence.

What if you are no longer in the mountains? What if you have reached a pit less low?

Nomatter where you are, you can make, time and again, what you had made before, you can make happen, time and again, what you once made it happen.

Losing things sucks......no amount of assurance and wisdom can change that.....

But sometimes your circumstances are like being drowned in a volatile sea, you who is struggling to breathe, desperately wants to touch the surface.....but no effort keeps you afloat......so such wisdom, that doesn't necessarily give you the open air or freedom from the waves of water, are like oxygen tanks......yes, you will still be drowning....but with something to survive on......

My intention is to give you a new perspective to survive the losses you are going through........

You will be alright....you always have.

That's how capable you are.

Pile 2.

In this pile, the drop of sun in you, is telling me a story.

Kind of like a morale tale....I used to read about in my 5th grade.

I'm simply making up following my intuition as I go, so bear with me.

There once was a world where anything round was deemed precious, worth thousand treasures.

And in it, lived a boy, who was taught young.....where and what round things to pursue.....the surrounding crowd who all had their head glued to the ground as though only the surface of the earth provided such luxurious finds.

He, too, begins adapting such leaning head, tracing all of his sight only at the floor.......

Tirelessly with his people, who looked and looked for the miraculous glory, everywhere but the sky.....

The boy one day hears a serene whisper from above........

"Little child, what are you searching for?"

The voice asks,

"Anything round!"

Says the boy with his head glued to the ground..

"Why then, meet my gaze child."

The voice utters back,

"I mustn't.. each glances I let stray away from the ground...I lose what I could have possibly found."

The boy refutes,

From then, no matter where the boy went, the voice above kept pursuing him, whispering songs and melodies to earn his head sight, such stubborn enthusiasm irritates the boy, and in fit of agitation,he roars back up to the sky, for the very first time, lifting his heavy head up to it, and there he sees, with his hitched breath.......

Utterly magnificent and round, gloriously lit, pale, and blue moon..

That's it.

All I got is this story, from here take it as you must.

But I think sometimes what we refuse to believe in is like a village granny who has no concept of fast food, working so hard to create the food "burger" she had once heard from her grandson.....to appease him....

The little child may look at what she made, and find millions of things that are not upto par......I know....it is very reasonable.......we have a certain thing in mind that we want and those who cannot meet it, disheartens us....

But I think....we no longer are a child..........so it is time we see what that thing is presenting us and for once.........appreciate the thought......

It may not be what we pictured.....but at least......something or someone tried.....

Who is that someone in your life?

And what do they have in their hands?

For ages, holding it up to you and your unresponsive hands.

Sometimes, to us that something or someone is God.

To him who lives on the edge of all, where we come from, he can not fathom.

Our precision and stubborn taste of perfection, he knows none of it.

So here we lay down on earth and ask him for McDonald's and he who has zero concept of humane sensibility, or taste....begins creating something he gathered from his scattered intelligence....and there he creates a thing, far from what we asked....and he presents it to us proudly with innocent optimism.......

And we are left dumbfounded by his......naive ignorance when it comes to our precision and image of perfection.........what matters to us, doesn't matter to him.

Sometimes, for god, his only source of attachment to the things we are attached to are us....

But as clumsy as he is, he does indeed tries.....always has been.

Pile 3.

So here in this pile, a bizarre scenario comes to mind.

The drop of sun in you is bombarding me with images of conflicts.

So I will try my best to explain it in humane words......

It is like,

There is a kingdom of some sort, where said threat of a dragon lurks in every corner.....and that dragon has many, many heads.....so the whole continent has found only two salvable swords, that can ever slice through the fiery beast.

In such lack mentality regarding solutions, there is given a huge importance to those who acquire the faith of all, and receive the honor of being the one who slays.

I see some sort of matriarch withholding the two honorable swords.

And raising plenty of children in an empty environment where all of them desperately seeks honor......constantly bantering with one another, forging disharmony amongst all, as everyone wants to be the one who is bestowed upon, the beast slaying sword.....not necessarily because they aim to free the fearful people terrified of the beast....but because they want to prove something to the matriarch who holds in their hands......"proof" of their self worth.....

They are 7 of them and only just two rare swords to prove from.....

Obviously conflict will arise... if this fantasy themed description is too out there for you to grasp. Let me phrase it in modern economical way.

So imagine there are 6 siblings whose parents own a business, and the parents create an environment of striving for those young saplings since the beginning of their milky teeth days.

So all of them who have been taught that only if they attain the honorable position given by their respective guardians, will they ever....be considered worthy.

Unfortunately, there are 6 of them and only two seats of authority, they have to fight for.

You can only imagine what happens from there.

But that's the thing, I see no hatred between those competing people......none.

It's like....they are not out for blood....but just........a drop of water that they were promised before.....and in thirst.......nobody......is your friend.....your brother, your sister.........you simply wish to quench your thirst and in it there is no sin......

It's a sad scenario but I hear the drop of sun in you, simply wanting to drop this lore.

Maybe you relate, maybe you don't.

But I hope something from this clings onto your lonely heart and accompanies you from now on.....to whatever life you are living.

What should you do?

You will come to find, at your own pace.

For now, just assure your mind....everyday as though a ritual....that....this is not the only way I can attain what I believe I lack.....they are not the only ones who can give me what I believe I lack.......

For you, right now the whole push to, "you are worthy! You don't need to seek." Is outlandish.....there are certain things that needs to fall into perspective for you to reach that state.

Think of it as a falling domino.

Right now, a card is falling and that card will push another and then another......

This very card, let it be you outstretching the limits and lacks.

Indeed, there are plenty and plenty of swords and seats.

Generously giving withholders.

And competitors who will not starve if you eat.

You will be alright, I know you will.

Pile 4.

In this pile, I had gotten an extra card.

So what I'm getting here is,

We humans have the ability to transform depending on the state we are in,

If we are in the lands of the present, out there living reality, we are men with legs.

If we are in waters of our internal self, deep within the fluid abyss of anything that is inside, whether in thoughts, emotions, head, heart, etc.

Anywhere that isn't the lands of the present outer reality becomes an ocean of abstraction, where one turns into an aquatic being.

I sound outlandish but have patience I'm trying my best to deliver my downloads.

I see, someone trapped between two worlds both water and land.

With each feet on the grounds of other, one in land, one in water.

So the feet on the land makes him a man who suffocates on water and the feet that is also dipped in the water make him suffocate in lands.

In each places we visit, there is a time and turn that comes to play.

But when a being dwells in both his internal and external cycles, it becomes difficult for him to keep count.

So in this pile I see you struggling.

The main struggle being the lack of life and air that gets stripped away from both places.

What I'm hearing from the drop of the sun in you is for you to learn how to take turns, decide when you want to dive deep in the slumbering waters of your internal self and swim across your abstract possibilities, and just do that.

But do not neglect the body that is stitched to the lands, to be ever present, whether you wander off to the shore or the bottom, your body will be living on the lands regardless.... while you dwell on your internal waters, the clock forever ticks the time to get up eventually comes, the time to walk towards the kitchen counter to make some food eventually meets, the time to attend to your humane chores and duties will eventually greet.....so don't leave your body all alone, while your mind wanders off to somewhere internally deep.......

Do you know how it feels to be disassociated from your ownself?

I think you do......

It feels really scary.....lot of the times in the past......my body would attend to my job...all alone....without me.... that was really scary.

I felt like I couldn't trust my own empty flesh that functioned almost automatically but I also couldn't bring myself to step on the lands again.........

I felt safe in the waters so I always hid and hid....but reality persists.....it never gave up on me....kept on waiting and waiting....and how irritating it was, it waited....with empowerment.....it never stopped its task while it waited......life kept rolling on and it never stopped.

So, please be conscious.

Take your time, divide the portion of your days and nights, efficiently and decide when to swim and when to walk....

Don't leave your body alone, it's a very scary thing to experience.

This example is going to sound funny but I think we all have experienced once, when we went to supermarket with our parents and while we are at the counter getting our stuff totalled, our parents go somewhere to take a call and the cashiers fast paced hands that already countered it all, waiting for us to pay.......

It's very scary situation isn't it? Our parents were the one paying but at that moment they were not with us,but the cashier doesn't stop their task....they keep on going....and we feel our nerves spiking....we are all alone...and we don't have money to pay.......we are not capable of handling things on our own.....

Where is our parents? We grow scared and agitated....

That's how our body feels, when our mind wanders off somewhere far....out of reach....leaving the body all alone to go through life......

Does it make sense?

At this point, bruh! I tried.

Take care of yourself.

You will be alright, you know you will !

[bon2bonn]

Paper Hearts

Pt.2

MMA!Max Verstappen x female!reader

Words count : 2.7k .

Warnings : violence , dipshits starting problems, blood , insomnia , grammar, not proof read .

*you can find P1.here or visit my 🌿Secret Garden🪻

She willed her feet to run as fast as she could towards the building right down the street, panting as she finally reached the gate greeting the guard as she took off running once again to the front door, bursting through the door with a dramatic entrance getting the attention of the reception desk occupants, making her smile sheepishly at them while she apologised, heading straight to the desk to greet linn and Taylor who took the day shift that week , signing herself in and hastily making her way to the stairs leading to the second floor, waving off linn who scolded " no running! "

She knocked on the door and waited patiently , Louis Armstrong could be heard flowing from behind the door and when she found no answer she knew she's screwed , so she pushed the door slightly, enough to peek her head in , looking at the vast room and let out a breathe where her eyes landed on the back of the rocking chair facing the window .

Now, in normal circumstances she'd burst in and declared her arrival but since she already late might as well keep quiet for the sake of peace.

She headed to the table by the window and greeted cheerfully " what a nice morning we have today ! Would be great for a stroll in the garden , don't you think Mr Davis ? " . Taking out the welting flowers to replace them with the new ones she bought on her way , then turned to greet the man with a smile only to get glared at with a statement of " you're late " .

She sighed knowing her attempt failed miserably " I know, but come on , it's once in a lifetime, and I promise you it won't happen again " she pleaded but received a scoff " lies " , she gasped " Mr Davis! Are you accusing me of lying!? " He nod making her hold her heart as if in pain " you wound me! , how could you do such thing to me !. My poor fragile heart can't take it! " She kept weeping until he called over her dramatics " oh cut it out ! , you and your theatrics " then he huffed " you start with being late and the next thing you'll forget all about come here at all " he looked away in a mix of anger and hurt making her pause and straighten her back at his words , then she moved to the small foot rest and sat down, taking his hand gently and smiled softly when he looked away with a frown . " You know that you're stuck with little old me right? , it'll take more than a missing alarm to get rid of me " she tilted her head to give him a teasing smile " not to mention , who's gonna get you these books , sneak you that god's awful , terribly bitter coffee from your favourite dinner and run around to dig up your favourite vinyls ? ".

He waved his other hand indifferently " I could send James to do all of that " she made an offended sound with an actual frown " James !? You gotta be kidding me! . You're replacing me with big ears James!? , I'm offended ! At least pick someone else! " She slumped in agony " after all these years I'm being replaced with James, life is cruel indeed " she sneaked a glance at him and smiled internally when she found a smile make it's way to the corners of his mouth .

She stood and made her way to the door after picking her bag from the floor much to Mr Davis's confusion " where the hell are you going? " She wiped away an imaginary tear and declared " I'm running for the hills, and sending James to take my place ! " He rolled his eyes and waved his hand dismissively as he settled back on his comfortable chair " tell him to bring me coffee while you're at it " her face contoured into one of bewilderment before glaring at his back " Oh you! ... You know what ! . I'm staying just to spite you " he shrugged and hummed along with the music as she let go of her bag and started to rummage through it for a moment, picking out an old hard covered book and a notebook.

She went back to foot chair and sat while handling over the book " I had to bribe, blackmail and probably threaten a sixty years old lady to get it " she shuddered at the memory and glared before handing him the notebook , " and this is the juice " he gave her a unimpressed look " you and your words " , she challenged " what else do you want me to call it !? , cause trust me I got worse" making him give a pained look " you are an academic scholar ! At least act like it! " She shook her head proudly " nope , I rather act like myself, thank you very much " he gave a huff then put on his reading glasses that were hung around his neck while asking pointedly as he started with the notebook " and does acting like yourself includes staying awake up to ungodly hours? " .

She gave him a suspicious look " who snitched? " , He glared back over the pages " the bags under your eyes " making her groan as she rubbed her eyes " it was a once in a blue moon " he hummed flipping the page " that caused you to wound up late , for the ...... Remind me again how many times you've been late this week? " She threw her head back , almost falling on her back from the force and flailed her arms to grab anything to support her , crying out when she found none and groaned when her head made a thud . She got back to her seat while rubbing the back of her head " Which won't happen again " . He called her out without hesitation " more lies " and gave her a pointed stare when she looked up , both maintained a stare down until he looked back at the note in hand and pointed at the shelves filled with books covering the wall to the side " get volume 3 " he paused then added " and 8 too " making her stand to make a little dance on her way to retrieve the mentioned books . She asked over her shoulder " where's the binder? " receiving an answer " second door to the right " , " got it " she grabbed it and shut the door behind her swiftlly.

••••••••••✿••••••••••••

Max opened his locker's door and was about to shove his bag in but remembered the flower he pick earlier and gently reached to get it out , giving it a long look before deciding to leave it on the top shelve for now , getting his wrapping tape before shutting it and headed to start his warm up for the day .

Keeping his head focused as he made his way to his usual spot . Paying no mind to the looks he was receiving and the mumbles and proceeded with his work, pausing in between to take a break before resuming . And it went like that for the following hour until a distinctive loud voice called " oh ! Didn't know that our resident princess is back boys ! , could've told me , I would've got some flowers, or maybe a little sparkly crown" the three idiots surrounding him burst into laughter, clapping or nudging him on the shoulders as he nods . But his words didn't receive the desired effect as Max kept quiet as if he didn't hear anything .

He secured the tape over his knuckles after he took a big sip of water and resumed on the punching bag , sending kicks and punches that echoed through the open floor making the others look over at the sound , it was a form of warning to keep out of his way but that didn't last for long as the one with the shrill voice decided to take it a little too far , ignoring his friends and made his way over to lean on the bag with a smug face " I was talking to you princess " he then held the thudding bag with a grunt , he was pushed back when Max threw a kick at it but tried to play it off with a glare .

Max spared him a bored look before looking away uninterested " fuck off " , but that didn't play well with the guy who stepped in Max's face with a threatening voice " when I talk to you I expect you to answer" , then moved another step to shove Max back , but found himself thrown on his back on the floor as he looked in bewilderment at Max who shoved him with one arm and scoffed at him with a glare, he directed his glare at the other three who stepped to defend their fallen friend , and when they were about to step up a voice called out " what's going on here ?! " The voice boomed from the railing of the second floor where the manager stood with his arms crossed , glaring down on the two he gave a warning when the one on the floor attempted to take the chance to get back " don't even think about it Jacob " thee said man glared up , then back at Max who stepped back and turned to his work , leaving Jacob seething in his spot , slapping away the hand of his friend who tried to get him up and scoffed at Max's back " this isn't over yet " turning on his heels and leaving through the door .

Not five minutes later the manager made his way over, nodding at Max who paused his practice to see what he wanted , " appreciate you holding back there " Max nod " wasn't a problem , he isn't the first knob and won't be the last " the man acknowledged and turned to let him go on but stopped and called over his shoulder " just a word of advice , stay away from Jacob and his trolls , they're trouble , the sticky kind " Max nod absentmindedly and resumed with the managers words in the back of his mind . Louder thuds echoed as his punches got harder , each shook the bag and sent a loud rattle through the chains holding it up .

••••••••••• ♪ ••••••••••••

Her day dragged on till noon when she left with the notebook and the now well revised book , and a promise to return with more juice, much to Mr Davis's agony and her enjoyment of teasing him constantly and reached her next stop of the day right on time .

The centres metal gate stood tall and ever vibrant with colours , high walls adorned various graffiti pieces and abstract paintings from the kids , not to forget the contrasting flower beds along the high walls.

2 minutes of Waiting at the booth by the entrance for the security to checked her in , then headed to the main dining hall where almost everyone was already seated, she smiled sheepishly while grabbing a fruit cup and dashing to the table by the vending machine under the scolding gaze of Mrs Edith who glared when she saw her trying to discreetly sneak a bag of something to the table besides hers on the way, emitting a loud cheer from it's occupants at the contents before they quiet down with a sheepish smiles of their own when she looked over with narrowed eyes .

The group then nod amongst themselves before signalling to her to which she signalled back with a nod before finishing her snack and moved in a haste to the dorms , where she waited down the hallway for a minute before any of the kids showed up, looking around for any eavesdroppers then shut the door to their secret meeting behind them .

" When do we start ? " One of the boys 'luke' asked her after bringing over the board they were scheming on for the past week, 'lyle' chimed in with a frown " I've got a test on Monday and another one wednesday " she hummed and asked with her own notebook in hand " anyone got any upcoming tests by then ? " Four raised their hands " biology " Luke noted , " math on Tuesday and English Wednesday " Amy grumbled , followed by Adam to her left " biology " , the rest shook their heads and looked at her as she marked on her note nodding with confidence " we can make do with that . Study sessions are on time , we won't change that , the rest of us can work the gap you've got and we're almost finished anyway, so , we have nothing to worry about " . Danny pointed" except getting caught " , the group shared a dreaded look before she assured them " just go on with your days like usual and leave the rest to me , I'll distract Mrs Edith till next week and there shouldn't be any set backs ". There was a hurried knock on the window , a signal that someone was on its way over making everyone scramble to dispose of every evidence in their hands.

The board was discarded and the occupants of the room hurried to pick around anything giving away their plans , succeeding just in time when the door cracked open and Mrs Edith stood with her hands on her hips , eyebrows raised with a suspicious look on her face as she scanned the group smiling innocently at her .

••••••••••✿••••••••••••

Max heaved a sigh when he reached the gyms front door when evening came , bag across his shoulder and a bottle in hand , but not even halfway across the parking lot someone decided to block his way with a truck painted an awfully bright shade of neon red , and low and behold out came Jacob with two of his lankies asking for trouble, Jacob stood before Max with a scowl " you thought you could just walk away ? " , Max rolled his eyes and turned to leave but Jacob made the mistake of grabbing the back of his hoodie, receiving a fist to the face , emitting a crushing sound when it collided with his nose , blood seeping as he fell down clutching his now definitely broken nose , the remaining two lunged forward, trying to overpower Max but he reacted faster , one foot kicking one back and a punch to the other slamming him against the window of parked car , his friend recovered and marched again, this time with a blade raised to swing at Max's side , who asked with a raised eyebrow " really? " Then sidestepped and grabbed the assailant's arm , twisting it till a 'pop' was heard followed by a shout of pain from it's owner as he fell after he dropped the blade with his free hand clutching his shoulder in agony .

Jacob watched with boiling anger before he hurried to grab a crowbar from the back of the truck, trying to find an opening to swing at Max , he swung at his back in a sloppy hit , making Max stumble in a step before he planted his feet , arms ready when he saw the bastard's leg going back to deliver a kick at him , so he grabbed the leg with one arm and a fistful of Jacobs shirt in the other and slammed him on his back .

Sirens were Heard rapidly with it's blaring lights seen from the distance as Max stood over the three men , he turned to look at the approaching officers but his eyes fell on his bag discarded on the ground, the zipper was undone and the flower he picked up earlier peaking out , it saddened him to see it's petals damaged even more when one of the officers stomped on it on his haste to reach the scene .

[cybrscreem]

Epic: The Musical inspired OC/CC fic SIGHGGFG

This is a sloppy fic based on a song i adore that reminds me of ocs hhhh

Heres the info and tws, then ill post the story

btw some lyrics are omitted? uhh and the cannon characters are at LEAST a little ooc just because i was having fun with it

Song Inspiration: Little Wolf - Epic the Musical (Wisdom Saga)

Fandom: Death Note (+ OCs)

Antinous = Light Yagami

Telemachus = Rascal Cyrus (younger brother of Royal)

Athena = Ghost (L's spouse)

Penelope = Royal Cyrus (Wife of Noel)

Odysseus = Noel Graves (ghosts son)

Trigger warnings: Misogyny, violence, implied transphobia(?), death of a loved one/parent, murder

Read at your own risk yall SIGH

Rascal Cyrus. The younger brother of Royal Cyrus, who had married Noel Graves. During the Kira case, their small family took the guise of being the parents of Rascal and his sibling Rebel - using aliases of John (Noel), Faith (Royal), Feisty (Rascal), and Frisky (Rebel). 

Light Yagami had already killed Noel. Yet Rascal was ordered by L to be calm and not let his emotions overtake him, which was needless to say, difficult for the young man.

As Rascal kept to himself in the task force, he repeated Noel's words in his head over and over: I will be back for you.

Yeah, right.

He looked up finally as he heard footsteps approaching. Seeing Light, he had to focus on not revealing his anger. The man who’d caused his sister so much pain, the man who had reduced her to a grieving widow in the next room; A sister struggling to keep it together long enough to worry about her siblings.

“So, Feisty, when’s your tramp of a mother gonna choose a new husband?”

“Don’t you dare call her a tramp!”

The words left Lights mouth light and casual, as if Noels death was nothing more than an episode of a television show. Rascal tried desperately to soothe the unparalleled fury that pushed through his bones - failing within a second.

Rascal shouted, face contorted by unconcealed anger and sorrow. His fists clenched, and he looked to Light with nothing but resentment.

Ghost had been watching, curious to see how their grandson would handle such confrontation. Hearing Yagami insult their late son, and his wife, they nodded to Rascal with a terrifyingly calm gaze.

“I just did. What are you gonna do about it, champ?”

“I’ll fucking kill you.”

Rascal whispered, voice shaking as he tried to gather his racing thoughts.

Wanna entertain me?

“Really?”

Light hissed, voice adorned with amusement and doubt,

“Then… Fight, little wolf, fight

Bite, little wolf, bite

Let’s see how you take this

Strike, little wolf, strike

Wanna be a man? Then

It happened quickly, Light had Rascal by the hair, tossing him to the ground and glaring.

fight, little wolf, fight, little wolf, fight!”

“You’ve made your worst mistake here,

Might be your last one too.

You’ll have run out of bones to break

When you and I are through

I’ll teach you all the lessons 

Your daddy never could

This cruel world doesn’t give out presents

“Fight, little wolf, fight

Just for being good, so,”

Light pulled Rascal up again, hand wrapped around his throat as he held the Cyrus sibling in the air mockingly.

Wanna entertain me?

Bite, little wolf, bite

Let’s see how you take this

Strike, little wolf, strike

Wanna be a man? Then

Fight, little wolf, fight, little wolf, fight!”

He shoved Rascal down again, kicking him in the stomach with all the force he could muster.

“Or, Die, little wolf, die,

Don’t you know its fight or 

Fly, Little wolf, fly, all because you had to 

Try, Little wolf, try

Run away before you 

Light was shoved back by Ghost, who then held him down as they addressed Rascal;

Die, little wolf, die, little wolf, die!”

“Need some help?”

“Is your plan to sit there? Because I suggest fighting back.”

“I don’t understand.”

Ghost released Light and stepped back to the sidelines,

“I dont know how..”

“Uppercut, now.”

Rascal did as Ghost said, shaking with fear and anger. It landed, and Light was knocked back with blood seeping from his nose.

Ghost nodded to Rascal, a faint smile hitting their expression.

“Fight, little wolf, fight

Show them that you've got some

Bite, little wolf, bite

Take advantage now and

Strike, little wolf, strike

Don't go down without a

Fight, little wolf, fight, little wolf

Get up and fight”

Rascal continued his fight, letting his emotions push him forward and the adrenaline take control. When Light stopped moving, he slumped over and let a few tears fall.

Ghost put a hand on Rascals shoulder, trying to be comforting

“Fuck you.”

He whispered, taking a deep breath

“Noel would be proud, standing up for your sister like that. Good job.”

[gravityglitch-blog]

"The New Kid"

(N does receive a name here, but to keep things simple, the story will keep referring to him as "N".

Also gave the schoolteacher a name, because the man sees so much chaos, he at least deserves that.)

Chapter 2

ao3 version here

first chapter here

The corpse spire was the dread of Copper Nine, a reminder to every Worker who saw it of the threat that hovered over them.

It had been built upon by different squadrons over the years, meaning the interior was divided into wandering, disjointed segments, like a hive crafted by insane bees. Many Disassembly Drones had lived there before, but it was currently home to the young three that had stormed the spire when they first landed.

Well, now only two.

"Tell me I heard you wrong," Serial Designation V hissed at her squadron leader through gritted fangs. She had never feared J, and wasn't about to start now.

"Fine, I went too far," J answered, her tone flat and cold. "I was tired of that factory defect screwing things up. We took a beating today and only got away with enough oil to fill our reserves for a week. Now that he's gone, it'll last longer. You're welcome."

"You left him out there to die! We have to go after him!"

"And why is that, V?" asked J, one eyebrow lifted curiously. "Why are you so upset over this? It's not like you treated him any better."

V cast her gaze down, shame and anger coursing through her. "He was all we had left from our life before," she said finally.

She met V's glare. "Don't tell me you never think about that time."

J's hand had been replaced by a long blade and was already at V's throat.

"Never speak to me about that again," J's voice was rough, a warning scratched in stone.

Pulling the blade away after a long minute, she continued, "Even if I wanted to go after him now, there'd be no point. Sun's up. He's nothing but a pile of ashes by now."

V sank to the floor, as though the blade had actually hit its mark. Something like pity crossed J's expression before vanishing.

She turned her back and marched toward her own quarters."I suggest you get some sleep," she threw over her shoulder. "Now that we're shorthanded, we'll have to work double-time to beat the other squadrons on this rock."

V didn't hear her. Her senses were consumed by memory. All the cruel things she'd ever said or done in her stupid attempts to keep N at a distance, to protect him from the evil that had infested their lives.

Most of all, she was remembering a lonely manor house long ago and far away.

She was remembering a kind little butler Drone who used to sit beside her and read facts about dogs.

She shut her eyes against the simmering tears. "I failed everything," she whispered, so quiet she could barely hear herself.

"I'm sorry, N."

---

N's internal clock told him he'd been in the infirmary for about a week now.

The first few days were a long, foggy dream. He'd thought about his past life. He'd wondered if V would miss him at all. They had been friends once. At least, he thought they'd been.

The worst was when he remembered what J had done, the pain tearing through him like fresh wounds all over again.

According to Miss Nori and Miss Annie, he had lain in a coma-like sleep while his systems reset themselves.

A new sensation had gradually begun to shine through the fog. The girl, Uzi, coming to visit him every day. He could sometimes feel her hand wrap around his. Sometimes she would read to him, or tell him about whatever had happened at her school that day.

She'd become an anchor point as he drifted between life and the abyss, and he'd held on to that with all his strength.

However long or short his life would be, he'd never forget waking up that first day without the fever.

The craving for oil was gone, at last.

He'd looked down at himself and seen his body as it had been, in bygone days when he'd been a Worker, not a weapon.

There'd been a small crowd around his cot, eyeing him nervously. N had locked onto Nori and thrown his arms around her shoulders.

"Thank you," he'd sobbed. "Thank you, thank you," until the words ran together into a babbling chant.

He was the only patient in the infirmary now.

As days kept passing and no disaster erupted, the other residents of the colony were less anxious around him, but they were a long way from trust. He didn't blame them. 

They were running diagnostics on him again today, the band wrapped around his head beeping at intervals. He was walking slow laps around the room, one arm tucked around Uzi, the other around Miss Annie as they guided him through each footstep. He still getting used to his new body. Smaller but still strong, without the burden of bladed wings on his shoulders. During his recovery, Uzi had been reading her comic books out loud to him.

("Manga," he corrected himself. No way was he making that mistake again. She'd looked so offended.)

Right now, she was excitedly acting out the most recent chapter they'd left off.

"Okay, so he winds up his fist like this," Uzi pulled back her free arm, as if preparing to battle an unseen enemy. "And then he lets it fly!"

She gave the air a devastating uppercut, sending a wobble through all three of them.

"Delaware Smash!"

"Now, Uzi," Miss Annie said gently. "I'm not sure such an exciting story is the best thing right now for...Nico?"

N smiled and shook his head.

"I...don't really feel like a Nico," he said apologetically. He liked Miss Annie. She was kind and quiet in a way that soothed everyone around her. She was also determined to find him a name, but none of her suggestions had fit quite right.

"I'm running out of ideas, hun," she said, "Just one more today. How about Novah?"

N tilted his head a little, letting the name roll around in his head.

"Okay, that one sounds pretty cool," Uzi said.

Miss Annie smiled. "I've been doing some reading. In some ancient human languages, 'Novah' meant 'newcomer'. I thought it might suit you."

"Novah," he played with the sound of it. "Know-vah." A wide smile dawned on his face.

"I'm Novah!"

"Yes!" Miss Annie laughed and offered her hand to Uzi for a victorious high-five, which she gladly returned.

"I think I'd like to keep my letter, though. Maybe as a nickname?"

"Of course."

By this time, they'd made a full circuit around the room. A male worker Drone with smiling white eyes and black hair leaned in and tapped on the wall.

"Knock, knock."

Uzi waved. "Hey there, Mr. Haven."

"Hi, kids. Just here to collect my wife."

"Just a second, Edmund," said Miss Annie as she helped N back onto his cot and returned to her work station to print his readings.

Mr. Edmund walked inside, ruffling N's hair affectionately as he passed.

"How are you feeling today, buddy?"

"Better!"

He gave a warm smile, then turned to Miss Annie. "I know you're busy, honey, but the meeting has already started, and--

"Annie's eyes hollowed. "Oh, that's right! Um, okay," she hurriedly gathered things from her station and followed her husband out the door,

"Uzi, you're in charge! No playing with the defibrillator, please! We're still trying to get the marks off the ceiling!"

"It was one time!"

---

With most residents of the colony somehow crowded inside the classroom, Nori could feel every pair of eyes drilling into her like lasers.

Never did like school, she thought wryly.

Khan kept a supportive hand on her shoulder as he stood beside her.

The schoolteacher, Linus, kept his usual place behind his desk, but the tap-tapping of his pencil betrayed his anxiety.

Most of Nori's attention was on Yeva, once Subject 048. She was her fellow Cabin Fever Labs survivor, another holder of the Solver (though she'd been cured by an older version of the patch that Nori's own systems had rejected),  and the closest she'd ever have to a sister.

And right now, she was looking at her with something between sadness and anger.

"Nori, how could you do this? Bring one of those...monsters into our home?"

"I didn't see a monster," Nori answered plainly. "I saw a kid in pain. A kid like my Uzi. Like Doll. I did what I thought was right."

"Child or not, that boy is a threat to everyone!"

The door to the classroom opened, and there was a small disturbance as Annie pushed her way inside, followed by Edmund.

"Now, now, maybe not!"

She was almost yelling to be heard over the agitated murmur of the crowd. "I've been running diagnostics on Novah every day since he's been here, and--"

"Wait," Yeva's husband, Adam, spoke up now, confusion in his eyes. "Novah?"

Annie briefly looked down, a little embarrassed. "Yes, that's the name we've given him."

"We've become rather attached during the boy's recovery," Edmund explained.

Annie continued, "There is no hint of Disassembler code anywhere. Since Nori installed the patch and made her repairs, he's as much a Worker as any of us."

"Khan, you're leader of the Worker Defense Force. What do you think?" Linus asked.

Khan took his time before answering. "I think a lot of progress has been made. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried about the danger."

"I was dangerous when you found me," Nori said, her voice dark with bad memories.

Yeva rubbed her arm. "So was I."

"We didn't have any choices then," Nori continued. "They'd been made for us."

She tried to meet the gaze of everyone in the room. "But you all gave us a second chance. To build new lives. It feels wrong to deny that to someone else."

Nori took both Yeva's hands in hers.

"You looked out for me while we were trapped in that hell. I'll look out for you now. For all of us. I swear on my life."

They stayed frozen like that for a very long time. Sighing heavily, Yeva lowered her forehead to Nori's.

"I don't trust the boy," she said quietly. "But I trust you."

---

N leaned back in his cot, staring at the ceiling with hands tightly folded over his chest. He was so nervous, he didn't know what else to do with them.

Sitting at his bedside, Uzi had the same problem, endlessly fiddling with the edges of her hoodie.

"What do you think they're talking about?" he asked.

"Whether or not to let you stay."

"Oh."

Purple eyes blinked at him. "What was it like...before?"

"It's hard to explain. It's like the kind of nightmare you have when you're sick, only it's real. You're still you, but you're also...something else. Something bad. And all you want is to stop, but you can't."

Struck by a terrible thought, he quickly turned to look at her. "Did I ever hurt you?"

Uzi shook her head. "No. I never saw you before my mom brought you in."

Relieved, he returned to contemplating the ceiling. "I've hurt others, though."

"Yes. And I won't lie, you'll have a tough time living that down, if you stay."

A beat of silence. "Do you want to stay?"

"If they'll have me," he sighed. "Being around Miss Annie, Miss Nori...you...I've never felt so safe." N glanced at her again.

"Would you want me to stay?"

She smiled at him, and his chest felt warm.

"It's been nice having someone to talk to," she said. With a little smirk, she added, "Even if you can't keep your manga stories straight."

"Yes, I can! Um...the Demon Slayers guard the Dragon Balls, right?"

"Okay, now you have to stay. Someone has to make sure you get a good education."

Both of them sat up when Uzi's parents, followed by Annie and Edmund, came into the infirmary. Uzi bolted out of her chair to grab her mother and father by the hand.

"Well?" she asked, bouncing slightly on her feet.

"He can stay," Nori announced with a smile.

"But we do have a question for N...Novah."

She stepped aside to make room for Annie and Edmund.

"Novah, you're strong enough to leave the infirmary now. Edmund and I were wondering...if you would like to come and live with us? We don't have any children, and...we'd be happy to be your parents, if you'll have us."

So many emotions were flooding him, he thought he might blue-screen.

"Parents? I-I'd be part of a family?"

"And we'd be neighbors!" Uzi chimed in. "Mr. and Mrs. Haven live right across from us."

"That is," Edmund added gently, "if you want this."

N looked at Uzi, standing with a parent on either side. Shielded. Loved.

And now the same was being offered to him, a monster that had been reshaped into something like normal.

He didn't deserve it.

He wanted it more than anything.

"Yes. Yes, please," he finally breathed.

If those first days had been a dream, the ones that followed felt like a prayer answered.

He had never dared to imagine this kind of life for himself. Gentle smiles to wish him good night that were still there in the morning.

Warm baritone singing while doing chores on weekends.

Watching two Drones silly in love waltz around the apartment for no reason, and then sweeping him up into the dance until his clumsy feet tumbled them all into a giggling heap on the couch.

A best friend who lived just across the hall, so he could see her every day. They played old video games and built pillow forts and made crazy plans about what they'd do if they could fly away from the world.

Sometimes he wondered if he had actually died that first night and was mistakenly allowed into heaven. Because if there was such a place, surely it felt like this.

---

In the darkest part of the farthest shadows, a heart of flesh and a silicon soul kept up a relentless search.

Like almost everything alive, it craved to reclaim what it had lost.

Not because of anything like love or affection.

The Solver of the Absolute Fabric was above such mundane pursuits.

This was pure obsession.

"Where are you, big brother N? Come out, come out, wherever you are..."

<callback ping>

<callback ping>    

[see-arcane]

In hindsight, the thing that really gets me about how things worked out during Dracula’s time playing host to Jonathan is that he could have been completely normal about, like, everything

Sure, sure, play up the eccentric elderly gentleman act, but just skip the whole ‘invade Jonathan’s privacy and give away the No Reflection problem followed by throwing his mirror out the window’ thing.

Maybe don’t actively entrap your nice solicitor friend who had, up until recently, been surprisingly chill with your general weirdness despite all the locals wailing at him to Beware Your Freaky Castle

How about using your own front door to go grocery and victim shopping instead of going scuttling in your lizard fashion? Or! OR! Turn yourself into mist like all your vampire lady friends can clearly do so as not to risk Jonathan seeing you act like a gecko on the cliffside

All these giveaways and his general spooky bullshit were entirely avoidable! Even being caught doing the housework by Jonathan could be explained away; or better yet, turned to his favor. Just say all the locals who were moaning about monsters are just so superstitious that he cannot pay anyone enough to stay on as staff (bar a certain carriage driver, but he does not have to live on the grounds). And he is not so feeble an old man that he cannot manage the company of his new friend, who has forgiven so many eccentricities of his already

Cue Jonathan ‘I Will Put Work and Manners Before My Own Life’ Harker immediately folding back on his suspicions like a deck of ashamed Victorian playing cards. To think he’d thought so ill of some lonely old man doing his best to keep up appearances for pride’s sake, his money only good in a faraway land because the place around him is so fearful of bogeymen! It would have flowed so easily from there--Dracula would’ve suckered (ha ha) him into redoubling on his social allowances, maybe even wheedled a proper introduction from the good solicitor on his return to England

Here is Count Dracula, who played attendant to a young man so below his station, simply for the sake of being a proper host. A noble! Taking care of the needs of a commoner just a half-step into the middle class! It’d read as eccentric bordering on endearing, if nothing else

But no. He had to pull the monster card at every turn. Had to play mind games. Had to actively fuck around and be a big obvious bloodsucking jerk about it.

Now, the obvious reason he decided to imprison, toy with, and ultimately promise Jonathan to his ladies as their new blood bag/boytoy is that the guy’s a sadist. Just plain old Capital E Evil. Just for giggles. Which doesn’t make sense when compared to his actions as a host. 

Because this is fucking Dracula. He could’ve broken every bone in Jonathan’s body but his right hand, forced all the information and paperwork he wanted out of the guy, and chucked him in his Girlfriend Cellar. The End

The fact that he does go out of his way to be charismatic, chatty, and caring of Jonathan’s needs and wants suggests something like a very warped earnestness. He doesn’t just want Harker for his plans. He wants Harker. Whether we go all the way down that homoerotic road with that want or not, it’s made clear in later chapters (and his own covetousness during the scene with the vampire babes) that Dracula isn’t just out to kill people off, he’s cherry-picking new members to add to his harem/collective/colony/Hematophagous Club

However bizarre or cruel or friendly*** he is about it, Dracula wants Jonathan in his thrall too.

Which, again, could have been done in a less obviously, pointlessly traumatizing way. Seeing as the Count is clearly not an idiot, this must have occurred to him too. So what the fuck happened, Vlad? My theory:

He might--might!--have originally planned to be much more lowkey about the vampire business. Maybe he even planned to let the dude go back to England, make his friendly intro of his good buddy the Count, and then get on with the biting. Instead, he got hit with the same impulse that will inevitably strike him when he get’s an eyeful of Lucy and Mina. Namely...

Dracula, pre-Jonathan: Okay, everything’s in order. No windows for the girls to get through, doors locked, rooms ready, kitchen full. Good, good. I’m ready to be extremely normal about this transaction.

Jonathan, handsome and winsome, warily trusting, radiating the hopeful good vibes of 1000 golden retrievers: Hi? <:)

Dracula, rewriting his entire game plan on the carriage ride back: Ohhh I can’t not be weird about this

[manjiroscum]

pregnancy diaries: teddy bear

summary: the journey of motherhood is never easy from the first morning sickness to when the water suddenly breaks. such precious yet arduous nine months deserve to be recorded for memories.

character/s: bonten!sanzu haruchiyo

warnings: f!reader, mature language, pregnant sex, attempts of sexual assault (not by sanzu), light angst, reader gets anxious a lot, pregnancy, mentions of murder, blood, canon typical violence, mentions of past drug use, sanzu keeps weapons in his house, sanzu tries to be a good husband and father, ooc sanzu (?), lots of fluff, and use of pet names. Minors do not interact.

masterlist

wc: 4.9k

note: this entry is dedicated to bby cat @sanzucide 😚💖

MONTH 0: WEEK 2

My dear baby peanut,

A kind old lady I met at a bakery told me to write down my thoughts about you as you grow in my tummy. She said that you might like to read my journey with you one day and I couldn't help but feel happy at the idea of it. No words can describe how excited your father and I are to see you. I was quite surprised when I found out that you’re here—our precious miracle. I swear by the stars that shine that I’ll protect you as fiercely as I can, even if it is against those who I love for you deserve everything good life has to offer. Please, please stay healthy and well inside there. I’ll do anything for it to stay that way.

I love you, my precious starlight.

Strong arms were wrapped around your trembling body. The same arms that you missed sleeping in last night for your husband went missing once you broke the news to him about your pregnancy. Sanzu Haruchiyo was—still is—a very closed-off individual since you met him. Rarely does he indulge you with his troubled thoughts or those scenarios that bother him enough to stay awake during the late hours. You figured, as his wife, he wouldn’t be so shy about sharing his fears with you.

But when it came to special and sensitive matters, like how you wanted a baby and failed multiple times, your beloved husband was sometimes a lost cause. You couldn’t really blame him for it either, having isolated himself from his own family due to his own personal reasons he dare not say aloud. Still, you couldn’t bare the responsibility alone, scared to death that he might leave you with the baby and decide not to be a part of raising it.

Yet, Haruchiyo wasn’t that cruel to do that to you—his love and the only piece of heaven in a land that reeks of death and betrayal. To do so would be akin to dying.

“Please… Don’t cry, baby. I’m sorry,” Sanzu sighed into your hair, eyes closed in exhaustion and sorrow for the stress he has caused you in the last few hours. He knows he should do more than console you through words. Beg or kneel for your forgiveness. “I’m sorry. Sorry I did that… I’m sorry I made you worry, baby. It won’t happen again. I, uh… I got so overwhelmed at the thought of becoming a father and needed fresh air—”

An angel you were. No one else could compare to your bountiful mercy and love. Normally, anyone in your situation would ask him to go. You were content to cry, two of your clenched fists banged against his chest. It never dealt much damage, unlike the tears that streamed down your cheeks as you sobbed. Haruchiyo really messed up this time. “I-Idiot! Idiot Haru! All you had to do was tell me that! Not disappear on me like that… I was so worried sick—”

“I know, baby. I know.” His arms pulled you close once again, embracing your trembling form as try and steady yourself. Your husband couldn’t help but feel anger towards his actions. He should do better—never make you cry like this again. “I’m sorry… I love you, yeah? Do you know that I love you, mhm? Baby stop crying, what will peanut think if he hears you?” At the cute nickname he gave the baby, you blinked back the tears and glanced up at him in surprise.

“Peanut?”

MONTH 1: WEEK 5

Hello, baby peanut,

Your papa is such a sweet man. You might say it is impossible to see or disagree once you’re older, but he truly is. Today, we went to check how you are and we’re so happy you’re making yourself comfortable inside. Whatever you want to eat, I’ll make sure you can taste it, yeah? Even if it is weird. Plus, your uncle Takeomi asked about you when I visited your papa at work. He might seem like an aloof man but he is good. Your papa says he is better than your uncle at everything but I can’t testify to that. What I do know is that your papa is a hard-working man. He tried to assemble your crib today and it was a funny sight. Don’t tell him that though, okay?

I love you, peanut. Keep growing!

“Are you even sure it’s gonna be a boy?”

Rindou’s question stayed hanging in the air due to Haruchiyo not listening to his colleague. The walls were recently painted in the hue of baby blue by your husband, leading the visitor to question why. Tongue stuck in between his lips, your husband was too caught up in reading the steps written on the flimsy paper about assembling the crib you two bought the other day to pay the younger Haitani any attention. Rindou must’ve realized this and sighed, shaking his head before diverting his gaze at you. You merely laughed at his curious stare.

“It might be. Haruchiyo is quite sure, though. Says he can ‘sense’ it.”

The younger Haitani couldn’t stop the strange expression twisting his handsome face at what that implied. “He… can ‘sense’ it? What the fuck does that even mean? And why name your baby after a nut?” Those purple irises threw your husband a suspicious look, slightly tilting his head to the side. “Are you… on drugs again?”

Concentration snapped into two, Haruchiyo glared at Rindou at the accusing tone. “Hey, what the fuck are you talkin’ about? I’ve been clean for two years. My mind is perfectly working.” His finger reached up to pull down his eyelid and stuck out his tongue. “You’re just jealous I can sense that my baby is gonna be a boy. What’s the matter, Rinny? Having a hard time conceiving boys like Ran? Perhaps you should fuckin’ check if your balls are broken or if it runs in the family.”

You ignored the banter occurring in front of you, content at sitting by the side. Whatever his reasons were for being able to tell his child would be a boy, it is still endearing to hear. And somewhere, deep in your heart, you wished Haruchiyo’s intuition would come true. Your hand reached down to caress your belly, mouth parting as you lightly scold Haruchiyo not to antagonize Ran’s brother any further.

MONTH 2: WEEK 7

My lil’ peanut,

I tried to convince your papa the other day to write an entry in this journal for you. He refused because he was afraid he’d mess it up which I don't think will happen. Your papa has been extra careful lately that sometimes I wonder if he is the one carrying you or me. I can’t blame him, though. You are our miracle baby.

Can you hear him humming at night? I don’t know if listening to Mozart will make you smarter and where your papa heard that tidbit from, but I just hope you like the music if you do hear it. It calms my nerves and fears of what has yet to come.

I can’t wait to have you in my arms, darling.

Tonight's dinner was flushed down the drain while you brushed your teeth. Whether it was because of what you ate or how you have been going around the house nonstop to clean the apartment that made you dizzy, your nausea got too much. Haruchiyo’s tall frame was leaning against the bathroom door’s frame, worry etched on his equally tired features after a whole day of running to and fro for another grand scheme of Bonten. You couldn’t help but furrow your brows slightly. As much as you wanted him to stay and be here with you all the time, it would be quite selfish. And yet, the thought of going into labor without him by your side would be an absolute nightmare. The crime organization didn't really have some sort of paternity leave and you were sure your husband would rather shoot himself than ask Mikey for it.

“You okay?”

Nodding at Haruchiyo’s reflection in the mirror, you then shot him a weak smile. “I’m alright. Just… tired of puking.” In hopes of lifting the solemn mood, you poked your tongue out. “I guess little peanut didn’t like the pasta.” You took an empty cup and filled it with water, about to gargle the last bit of your vomit’s aftertaste until you felt arms wrapping around your torso and a warm chest pressed against your back. Your eyes glanced up to meet Haruchiyo’s gaze through the mirror.

“Peanut should learn not to be picky about his food.”

“I was only kidding, Haru,” you whispered, leaning back on him. “The pregnancy is making me nauseous.”

Nuzzling his chin on your shoulder, your husband laughed softly, the puff of air released was ticklish on your neck. “I know, baby. I know. I just don’t like seeing you vomit since you just ate. I’m worried that you’re gonna get sick or something. Do you wanna order something? That favorite cafe of yours is still open at this hour. How about some cupcakes, mhm? Or maybe you wanna get cheesecake?”

At the mention of sweet desserts, your eyes perked up and a smile spread across your lips. “Sure, not gonna say no to cupcakes. Let me finish gargling then we can order, okay?”

MONTH 3: WEEK 9

My dear peanut,

I have to be honest… I’ve been afraid of what kind of world you’ll be growing up in. It is no secret what your papa does and I am fully aware of the possibilities that may happen in the near future. Your papa has been nothing but kind to me. He may have his ups and downs, yet that is part of being human. The people he has to deal with, on the other hand, are not so good…

Still, I swear that I’ll keep you safe. Your papa and I will keep you away from harm's way as best as we could. It may sound pointless, but as long as I live and you cannot defend yourself, I will always protect you.

I love you so much, my sweet peanut.

Iron. The smell of blood wasn’t overpowering yet it somehow invaded and assaulted your nostrils. But the scent akin to rust was not the most overwhelming thing to experience at this very moment. Fists meeting the pervert’s face with a sickening crack and the crimson liquid dripping from the man’s lips were nothing compared to the murderous look painted across your husband’s face. His heart that was hammering earlier out of worry and fear was not beating to the thunderous tune of rage and vengeance. He can’t believe someone really tried to touch his pregnant wife on his own turf, much less a nobody who was only thinking with his dick. All you could do was heave a heavy sigh and continue to look away as the man’s limp body was dragged out of the room.

The new recruit, whatever possessed him to try and touch a Bonten member’s wife, was surely regretting it now—wherever his pathetic soul is. Frankly, neither you nor Sanzu cared.

Haruchiyo never noticed your form shivering until he embraced you, his lips in a grim line while he inhaled your familiar scent he got so used to waking up that it would be torture to never be able to smell it again. Any bastard who tries to harm you and his son should be prepared to receive his undiluted wrath. That man was just an example of what he can do and a glimpse of what he can do more if anyone would be stupid enough to mess with him.

“You’re okay, baby. I’m here. No one will try to fuckin’ touch you again.”

“T-that fucker…”

You supposed you were as insane as him at this point—any mother would probably result to the same way of thinking after going through this. Images of the man burning and wailing in agony filled your mind while you clung to Haruchiyo. The unwanted touching and disgusting words that were thrown at you weren’t the horrifying part of this whole ordeal. Compared to that, the insults he hurled at you the second he saw you were pregnant made you sick. The ride to your husband’s office for a simple desire to eat lunch with Haruchiyo with that creep was a long one that was filled with suffering until those metal doors opened. The heavens definitely answered your prayers when Haruchiyo was waiting for you by the elevator, hoping to welcome you with arms open only to see you trying to push away the sicko. The rest was history.

“H-Haru, it happened so fast and I was so scared—”

“Shh, I got you. He won’t hurt you anymore,” he whispered into your hair. “Remember? I’ll always keep you and peanut safe. Nothing will harm you or the baby, okay? I’m sorry you had to experience that, baby… I’ll cut off those filthy hands and burn them. Would you like to see that, babe?”

MONTH 4: WEEK 15

My darlin’ peanut,

Your papa is ecstatic. I supposed anyone will be once the baby’s gender is revealed but your papa is beyond that. He has been busy buzzing around buying you baby clothes and toys. And yet, when I asked him if he wanted to reveal the gender to his friends… I guess I can’t go into detail about what he actually said to me. However, it goes along the lines of wanting to keep it to himself for now.

The doctor was smiling weakly the entire time we listened to your heartbeat because your papa was glaring at him until the sound of your beating heart echoed around the room. I admit I shed a few tears. Some mothers had the idea of keeping the sonogram pictures of their babies in their wallets for good luck. I’ve asked yours to be printed a lot because I know I’ll be placing them all over the house. You’ve grown quite big, peanut.

I can’t wait to see you soon, love.

Haruchiyo couldn’t stop grinning. Even when he was in the same room as Mikey and the other members of Bonten, he had to hide the curl of his lips with his hand so Ran or Rindou wouldn’t tease him. However, he can’t help it. Soon, his good mood was news to the entire staff in the building. Those who knew him well were aware of your pregnancy and weren’t all that surprised. The people who didn’t, on the other hand, were living in total fear that Bonten’s number two may have lost his mind and could go on a killing spree when provoked.

“Are you gonna tell them tomorrow?” you questioned softly. Upon hearing no reply from your husband, you glanced in the direction of pink and stifled a giggle at the sight. Sanzu Haruchiyo, the fierce second in command of Bonten who has slitted far more throats and is known for being the most ruthless one, was giggling softly at the photo of his baby’s sonogram. To say Haruchiyo was ecstatic over the confirmation that his baby was a boy isn’t enough to be a description.

He’s fucking over the moon.

“Babe?”

“Yeah?” Haruchiyo still couldn’t put down the photo, his eyes clear as day while staring at the black and white photo. He can’t take his eyes off of it. Did he and you really make such a cute baby? Haruchiyo couldn’t believe he was going to be a dad in a few more months. Will the baby look like you? Or him? Your husband’s lips stretched even more at the thought. “What is it?”

Adoring the scene, you turned back to the sizzling meal you were making for two. It will be for three in a couple of months. You couldn’t wait for that day, smiling at what that meant.

“Nothing, babe.”

MONTH 5: WEEK 18

My baby peanut,

Your room is ready and filled to the brim with things you might need. It’s almost as if you’re already here. Your papa said that if you’re not a good boy, he’ll take away all your toys and exchange them for boring posters compelling nutrition posters to encourage you to eat vegetables. He’s very funny.

The other day, we were looking to buy strollers and your very own car seat. I’m too embarrassed to go back to the store after weeping at the sight of those cute items. Your papa merely laughed so I hit him on the back for doing so. Peanut, whenever a lady cries or feels sad, comfort her. Okay?

Love you!

“Are you still mad?” Haruchiyo slightly winced at the cold expression you shot at him, instantly regretting his actions earlier. Silly as it may be, he knew your irritation was amplified due to the hormones and shouldn’t be messed with. You normally would have laughed when he teased you, but today wasn’t like those days. His hand reaching out to you was ignored when you brushed past him in the direction of the bathroom. Scratching his chin, your husband tailed behind you akin to a lost puppy while a stream of apologies ran out of his mouth. To shut the door on his face would be too harsh so you spun to face him before entering, surprising him a bit. To tease your husband, however, was another story.

“Haru, I have to be frank,” you muttered, putting on the best face you can that could be the epitome of disappointment. “I may take this as good fun, but for you to merely laugh at me earlier… it hurt my feelings.” Hands reaching up to cover your eyes that were void of tears, you could tell Haruchiyo was starting to panic. He did vow he will never make you cry again or be the reason for the waterworks. Especially now that you were experiencing mood swings due to the pregnancy. For him to see you start showing signs of weeping had your husband at the tip of his toes, hoping for you to forgive him. The last thing he wanted was to sleep on the cold couch tonight.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t know it would make you feel sad—look, if it makes you feel better, I can buy you anything. Or maybe a massage? Do you want a massage? I’ll massage your feet and back, plus do all the dishes this month. Please—” he paused in his ramble the second the first laugh slipped past your lips. It wasn’t soon before Haruchiyo figured out you were messing with him, crossing his arms across his chest while observing you laugh with your arms around your tummy. He couldn’t believe he fell for your tricks. You didn’t even notice him leaving until you heard the door to your bedroom closed shut.

“Haru? Come on, I was just kiddin’! You were laughing at me earlier and I couldn’t help but tease you. I love you, okay?”

MONTH 6: WEEK 23

Darling peanut,

You are growing bigger and stronger inside that I can’t help but cry. The doctor said I might feel you kicking soon and your papa is looking forward to it. It still amazes me that you’ll be coming out soon and I’ll be meeting you.

I saw a shooting star the other day. Your papa was already snoring on the couch to see it while we were in the middle of watching an old film and I was slightly bored. I wished for you to come out healthy. That is all I want.

Haruchiyo took a clean towel from the nightstand to wipe off the sweat dripping down your forehead, unable to take his eyes off of your belly and the undeniable glow your face had. His free hand even refused to move from its spot on the obvious bump, rubbing on it softly. His cock twitched at the idea of getting you pregnant again, which did not go unnoticed by you since he was still inside your creamed pussy after sex. Gentle and slightly afraid he’ll hurt the baby, your husband has been nothing but the sweetest. Even after marriage, Haruchiyo was still doting. Fears of him leaving you for another woman and giving up on the relationship did haunt you all those years where nothing significant happened. Perhaps it’s human to think that way.

Your husband did not understand why you had such thoughts, kissing every worry away from your face so soothingly as if he didn’t just paint your gummy walls white that it oozed out the moment his flaccid cock slipped out of your pussy with a small pop. He was mesmerized at the lewd sight that his cock was twitching, growing hard once again. You felt it too, groaning at how eager he is. Haruchiyo was sheepish.

“Sorry, I can’t get enough of you, baby.”

“Haru, I’m tired…”

“You sure you’re not up for another round?” he mumbled into your ear, slowly grinding his cock now half-mast against your thigh. “You tend to get needy whenever I’m just about to fall asleep.” When you shook your head, he pouted. “I’m not gonna offer the same thing once we’re finished bathing even if you ask me nicely, pretty.”

Playfully glaring at him, you lightly scoffed. “Really? How sure are you?” Not waiting for a response, you got up and sauntered over to the bathroom while making sure not to hide the way his semen ran down your legs. You gave your entranced husband a glance and cheekily gestured for him to follow you. Damn your depleted energy, teasing him is always a fun challenge. “You’re not opposed to washing my back without touching me down there, right?”

MONTH 7: WEEK 26

My adorable peanut,

I hope you are well. Sometimes I get surprised whenever I feel you kick, especially when I eat. Your papa said it is silly to worry that you might be kicking a lot during meals because you didn’t like the taste of them. I can’t help but wonder about it.

Whenever you kick, your adorable papa comes running to check. He’s like a puppy, but don’t tell him that. He might worry his colleagues will think the same way. I’m just confident in writing it down here ‘cause I know he doesn’t read what I write here. Something about privacy and that this journal should be read by you. He really cares about you, peanut.

We both love you so much, baby.

“Do you think we should babyproof that room?”

Haruchiyo glanced up from polishing his katana, his eyes following your line of gaze to the one room where he kept all his guns and other dangerous things. At your suggestion, your husband couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

“Come on, babe. There’s no way an infant could even enter there. I keep it locked at all times, ‘ya know? Besides, once he does grow older, we’ll move to a bigger place. I’d want one with three bathrooms.”

The talks of moving once you had a kid were not strange to this household. Even back then when you were still struggling with conceiving, Haruchiyo was already open to moving out of the apartment once the kid was big enough. There wasn’t anything wrong with the current apartment, but you do wish to have more space for the child and that it was nearby a school. However, there was his job at Bonten to consider. Moving out meant he would be further away from headquarters and that might not suit well with him.

“You sure? I mean, about moving.”

Haruchiyo was back to polishing the blade, nodding at your words. “Yeah, it’s totally fine, babe. We can’t stay in this apartment forever, plus there are better apartments or penthouses out there where peanut can run around freely. If you don’t wanna live in a building, we can always get a house. It’s no big deal.” Hearing no response from you, his attention shifted to your form, and raised a brow. “What? Did… I say something wrong?”

“No, nothing wrong. Do you think peanut is gonna be such an active kid?” The grin on your face never faltered as you listened to Haruchiyo ramble away on how his son would probably be a menace if he had too much sugar.

MONTH 8: WEEK 30

Hi sweet peanut,

You’re definitely not as small as a peanut now, that’s for sure. You’ve grown so much that it is making me a bit emotional. I often hear mothers saying that children grow so fast that if you don’t look hard enough, you’ll never notice it. I’m a bit terrified that I might do something wrong, specifically in raising you. Reading books and watching videos on motherhood sometimes call me down, but experience always varies.

I don’t know about your papa and his fears. All I do know is that he might be sharing the same thoughts as I am. We both have never tried raising a kid before and taking care of someone else’s is a different thing. I just hope the two of us manage to pull it off and be the best parents we can be for you.

I love you so, so much.

Haruchiyo sighed. This was the fifth time this week that you couldn’t stop fussing around. He knew it was because the due date is dawning nearer and nearer as the weeks go by, but he was worried you might burn a hole on the carpet with your pacing. Ever since you started experiencing Braxton Hicks, you couldn’t help but grow anxious. No matter how many times he had consoled you, that these were normal as the doctor said, you can’t help but feel scared. Scared that something will go wrong.

“Baby, please sit down. It’ll be much better for you to just relax, yeah?” he said, reaching up to stop you in your tracks before pulling you down to sit next to him. Thankfully, you complied but the concern for your son was still swirling in your mind. “Hey, look at me, babe. Babe.”

“Y-yeah?” you mumbled, meeting his eyes immediately. The television playing in the background white noise in your march of apprehension that lasted much longer than the previous ones. Your gaze was then blocked by a shock of pink, your husband hugging you. “Haru, what—”

“I hate seeing you like this. Makes me feel fucking weak, to be honest.” Haruchiyo whispered, his hand running soothing circles on your back while the other was on your huge belly. Just as you were about to ask him why when he beat you to it. “I don’t know how to make you feel better. I’m not the pregnant one here, yet I understand why you’re so worried. Still, we should have fate on little peanut, yeah? And you should listen to your doctor. You should be relaxing—no, you should be resting a lot. I’ll do everything now, okay? I’m sure Mikey won’t mind me being absent. Let me do this, okay? Let me take care of you and tell me about your problems. I won’t laugh at you.”

“Haru…” As if his words were some spell, you relaxed into his chest. Eyes shut, you took in deep breaths before nodding. “Alright, yeah… I’m sorry for worrying you. Didn’t mean to make you feel this way…”

“Don’t apologize, baby. We did promise to do this together.”

MONTH 9: WEEK 39

My peanut,

This is your papa. You will probably notice due to the change of font. Your mama wanted me to write something here. I don’t know why but writing something in this journal seems… weird. Don’t get your papa wrong, but I’m used to reading the entries than writing on them. My curiosity gets the better of me so don’t tell your mama I’ve read most of what she wrote her. Ugh, it’s probably pointless ‘cause I’m sure she’ll see this. Anyway, it has been a long journey of keeping you and your mama safe. I won’t trade those days, good or bad, for anything. Your uncle and cousins are looking forward to seeing you, too. Don’t let them intimidate you.

Very excited to see you, little man. Come out soon, but not too soon, okay? Be kind to your mama.

Takeomi left the room, giving you and Haruchiyo privacy after saying hello to your bouncing baby boy now sleeping soundly in his father’s arms. The solemnity of the space lifted the moment Haruchiyo entered the room, sweat evident in his temples at the long hours he waited outside during your delivery. Hearing your muffled screams brought him on edge, wondering what was happening behind closed doors and whether peanut was alright. When the wait was over, he immediately rushed to where you and his son were. Takeomi followed behind with a small smile. It was a miracle his younger brother agreed to see the new addition to the family, although he was suspecting it was because of you.

“He’s so tiny,” your husband whispered, gently rocking the baby. “Look at his cute fucking nose and those cheeks—we should make more babies. I wanna give peanut a sister.” Ignoring the way you let out a sigh and mutter that giving birth wasn’t easy, Haruchiyo continued to coo at the baby. The smile on his face matched yours, happier than the first day you discovered you were having his baby. The teddy bear Takeomi bought as a gift sat on top of the hospital’s bedside cabinet, mirroring the unexplainable joy on both of your faces.

taglist: @bunnyjiros @chronic-claire-universe @wakaslut @ranilingus @eroscastle @tobidabio @zuuki @chloee0x0 @leavemealonebutinpink @kamisoria @keijisprettygirl @httphaitani @marism @stffychn @riszu @tokyometronetwork @festive

[6mommymilkers9]

If your comfortable with this, how would the four lords react to fem!reader being pregnant?

As soon as I read this, I knew I had to write it! Thanks for the request :)

The Four Lord's With A Pregnant S/O Headcannons

Alcina Dimitrescu

° Alcina is extremely ecstatic. Considering you both...lacked the necessary equipment to have a child of your own, it was planned, so it was nothing but happiness for the Lord and yourself.

° Lady Dimitrescu, having daughters of her own, knew nothing of how to care for an infant or child no more than the size of her calf. Her daughters were born from Cadou; this was something new. She won't say she was nervous, but her eyes told her lies.

° The pregnancy was a very 'on the fence' type. Life in the small village wasn't as boring as everyone thinks, so the constant excitement was a bit of a problem. Thankfully your daughters let their antics subside (The mom look Lady Dimitrescu gave them scared the shit outta them).

° With that, there were maids, of the highest order per Alcina's request, that took care of you. They had helped you walk around when your baby bump grew heavy, making you wobble. As well as with getting up the stairs and such. You never touched a single broom or dusk cleaner during this time.

° Alcina took care of you in the more intimate ways. Putting away her books and drama with Mother Miranda, she gave you her iconic smile as she helped you bathe or rub your back when it was a testing day. She always made sure you wore a face around her.

° Over all, she may be nervous, but absolutely in love with her unborn child, ready to see them any moment to spoil the hell out of them. It's mother instinct you know.

Salvatore Moreau

° Moreau, as soon as he heard the news, was scared AS SHIT! Before his mutations, he was a doctor, the birthing wasn't what bothered him. It was the part of "I'm a dad?"

° Only Mother Miranda knows how he landed you as a partner, but you carrying his child? Oh boy that was something new. Him being insecure, this made it worse, but at the same time made him happier than ever. All he ever wanted was a family, and looks like he was getting it, even if he had the personality of a wet towel.

° He would stalk up on books about parenting and pregnancy to help you at any point he physically or mentally could. Since he is physically disabled from his reactions to the Cadou, he isn't that much of help with walking around or such things of that sort. He is more than happy to help you talk your head off. Even if he can't speak well, he musters the longest conversations he could with you to get things off your mind.

° He gives you tons of offerings and gifts. If you mentioned you liked something, he would get it for you. Though, he found you much preferred to be wrapped in his coat on the large bed you two shared in the mines. He would smile everytime he walks in on you napping in his coat, his pride shows through.

° With his happiness, he worries about his child's conditions. Would they be the same as him? Would they have his same complications? With the little technology he had, he couldn't know the answer and that scared him.

° What he suffers from was preventable, he doesn't want his child to suffer from something they were born with. To him, he saw it as cruel. This ends up with you having to comfort him until you convinced him that whatever happened, your child would be loved the same. Things will be alright.

Donna Beneviento

° Well, it's the same concept with Lady Dimitrescu. It was planned with some help. Now, in contrast to Alcina, Donna had dealt with a small child, bearing her own. Do to an accident, her child passed away, which made her dive into her work as a doll maker.

° She was extremely scared. Not for you, but your baby. Her failure to protect her child in the past projected to her child now. What if she couldn't protect the baby? What would she do in an emergency? In summary, she is a big worrier.

° All the corners in the houses and sharp objects were child protected, and you were only in your first trimester! That's not the worst of it, she was always by your side. It sounds nice, but she was way too clingy. After some talking, she gave you room to breathe.

° As a doll maker, she also had a hobby of knitting clothes, making outfits for your child. They arranged from dinosaurs, to dolls, to even herbs. You watched as she knit and even tried it out for yourself. Let's just say you ended up with a deformed sleeve. You let Donna handle the clothing from then on.

°She is always there to comfort you in any way possible. If she is off for a meeting, she makes sure Angie stays with you to keep you company and help with anything you need. Angie sees you as her mother and treats you as such. She can't wait to see her new sibling.

° When you are in pain, you bet Donna is on her way to make some tea with special herbs to help with it. Her green thumb is something special in that garden of hers. You couldn't thank her enough. Better than a prescription from a doctor anyways.

°She and Angie take great care of you and make sure your needs and wants are met. You have two amazing people..and dolls by your side. Just wait until the little one arrives!

Karl Heisenberg

° He is on the fence about it, really. It's not like he doesn't want the child, but he doesn't have the best parental figures. He doesn't know if he would be a good father or not.

° Over time, he would ease up, listening to your encouraging words about your future family and events. Though he still has moments of doubt when he wanders around the factory to tend to the Soldats that were malfunctioning.

° He ain't soft and he ain't a sissy, but that facade is thrown down the drain when he would curl up behind you to wrap his arms around your baby bump and whisper to his unborn child. He isn't much of a singer, but he hums songs from his childhood against your bump, thinking the baby could hear him.

° Karl absolutely gushes over you and the baby when he can feel a kick. He can sense the strength the little one has already. "Atta champ! Just like your old man." He is going to drag for days to his machines about the strength of his child and how they will grow to be a great leader someday.

° He is overprotective as anyone could think. Especially when Mother Miranda is around. Her, thinking it's her grandchild, decided one day to pay a visit. Karl wouldn't have that, nearly tripping over his own feet to drag her ass to the bottom of hell's tunnel.

° No one is going to mess with you and he makes sure to everyone that is clear. The Soldats don't even try to bother you. In a factory of killing machines, you are the being they are most afraid to even look at. Just wait until your child is born. Those poor machines.

[prettyboypucey]

Weird ~ G.W.

Summary: George is gorgeous. Charlie is a meddler. The snow is cold. (this summary sucks...just read it) 

Pairing: George Weasley x Y/N 

Word Count: 2,404 (who do I think I am?) 

Warnings: mentions of bullying. mentions of food/eating. george is unknowingly triggering? reader cries. idk? let me know if i missed something. 

A/N: part 2? maybe? translations are for romanian via google translate. do not come for me if they are hella wrong. 

Translations: draga - darling; dragoste - love; tampit - stupid 

     I had never been normal. From the time I was a toddler I had stars in my eyes and dirt on my knees. While the other kids in my grade were playing with dolls and dressing respectably, I was riding imaginary dragons and wearing mismatched socks with dungarees and a butterfly headband. Normalcy evaded me even further when at 11 years old, I got a letter declaring me a witch.

     When I first came to Hogwarts I spent the majority of my time alone. It appeared that even children who could wave a stick around and makes things fly wanted nothing to do with the colorful little girl. Meeting Luna Lovegood in my second year was the best thing that had ever happened to me. Here was a girl who allowed me to be exactly who I was with no judgments. And then she introduced me to Neville Longbottom and Ginny Weasley, and suddenly that little girl who thought her only friends would always be the rocks she painted faces on, had found her people.

     Of course, being friends with Ginny Weasley meant knowing her many brothers. So after graduation when I went off to Romania to work with dragons it made me feel slightly better knowing Charlie Weasley would be there. He quickly took me under his wing and became the older brother figure I had never had. After working together for three years, and electing to stay at the sanctuary for the last two over the holidays, he had finally convinced me to come home with him. I was reluctant to leave the sanctuary - the one place I truly feel safe (despite the massive fire breathing creatures).

     Charlie had warned me that being with one or two of the Weasleys was very different from being with the entire Weasley clan. Obviously I knew Charlie and Ginny, Ron had always been nice to me, and I had met Molly a handful of times in passing. However, Bill was known to be quite intimidating, Percy was supposedly very no-nonsense, and the twins (albeit never cruel) had a reputation of being hell-raisers.

     Apparating to the edge of a marsh with Charlie by my side I could see the rising structure haphazardly balanced slightly ahead.

     Pausing, I glanced at the back of the familiar red covered head, “I don’t know Charles, maybe I should just go back. I really don’t want to be a burden.”

     Charlie very quickly rounded behind me to continue guiding me towards his home, “No, no, no, no, no. No. You’re not a burden to anyone draga. Keep your head up and if any of them give you grief - remind them of the giant, winged beasts you can feed them to.”

     Quickly placing a kiss to the side of my head Charlie bounded ahead again to open the door and announce your arrival. Before I could toe off the first boot to leave next to the dozen other pairs in the entryway, a pair of arms had flung around my neck.

     “Y/N! I missed you so much!”, Ginny pulled back, keeping her grip on my shoulders, to inspect for any major injuries.

     I held onto her elbows, keeping her close, “Hi Gin, I missed you too. A lot. I’m loving this new look by the way.”

     She reached up to brush the now short locks behind her ears. A grin on her face as the two of us looked the other over for the first time in months. Ginny was wrapped in a pretty baby pink sweater with shades of red and white running through it. The material was soft against my palm as I hooked it around her crooked elbow to follow her into the living area.

     “You know”, she started, “I was starting to think maybe Charlie had let you get eaten or burnt to a crisp in the land of dragons. It’s been so long since you’ve come to see me or left the sanctuary.”

     “I’m sorry Ginny. It’s just that after everything, I had to keep myself busy.”

     Ginny’s smile softened into one of understanding. The war had taken a part of all of us. Although Fred had recovered after many months, that fear of almost losing such a vital part of their family had rocked the entire Weasley family to its core.

     “I get it, I do, but I worry about you. I just want you to know you’re not alone Y/N.”

     I pulled the girl into another tight hug, “I know.”

     Ginny pulled away first, clearing her throat, “Okay! Now that’s out of the way - it’s time to introduce the one and only Y/N L/N to the Weasley’s.”

     I hummed, “Hmmm and which of us should be more scared?”

     “Oh definitely the Weasleys.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~

     Meeting the Weasley family had gone much better than expected.

     Molly had opened her arms and home to me as if I was one of her own children. By the time the night was over she had me stuffed full of warm food and drink and donning my very own coveted Weasley sweater, the lavender initial in the middle marking it as my own. Arthur had been very interested in my muggle parents and upbringing, questioning me about the functions of a rubber duck. Bill and his wife Fleur were the most stunning couple I have ever seen, and not nearly as intimidating as people portrayed them. Fleur was pleased when she found out I spoke a bit of conversational French and promised to have me over to Shell Cottage (apparently they have an amazing collection of wind chimes that I am dying to see). Percy was a bit more refined. Completely polite and friendly but he seemed reserved. Ginny had explained in one of her letters how much guilt Percy carried after the Battle of Hogwarts over how he had behaved in the years leading up to that day.

     The twins were much different than I remembered them being from the few times we were around each other in school. The physical differences were clear - George’s missing ear and Fred’s dragging limp were both signs of the prices they paid in the war. More than that however, they had matured greatly. They were still happy and made sure to pull at least two pranks over the night, poor Molly nearly lost her voice after they blew up the turkey. However, there was something in their eyes that had been dimmed. Especially in George.

     His twin almost died that night, and it reflected in George’s eyes each time he looked at his older brother. It was clear that he was still afraid because whenever Fred left a room George followed, never letting his brother out of his sight, and if he happened to lose track of him a panic began to swirl in his brown orbs.

     I was in the middle of watching as George yet again made his way to Fred’s side, clapping a large hand on his twins shoulder and throwing his head back in laughter.

     “So which one are you staring at dragoste?”, Charlie whispered as he appeared out of nowhere.

     I ignored the burning in my cheeks as I looked away from the scene in front of me.

     “I am not staring at either of them tampit.”

     “Mhmm, sure, absolutely, I believe you.”, after a quick pause he said, “It’s George isn’t it?”

     I turned and scoffed at him, “No!… How did you know?”

     Charlie let out a chuckle, “Because I know you my little dragon. I also know my brother, and just between us, he definitely likes you as well.”

     At this I let out an incredulous laugh and glanced back to where George was now telling a story, his hands moving animatedly. There was no way that George Weasley had even a remote attraction to me. He was kind, strong, clever, and so bloody gorgeous it truly was a privilege to look at him. And I am…me. Nothing special. Just a girl who had more dragon friends than human ones and whose hands were covered in scars and callouses and whose socks never matched and had never even kissed a man before. So no, there was no way that George Weasley would ever like me.

     “Hey. I know that look Y/N. Stop those thoughts right this bloody second.”

     “Charles it really is annoying when you read me like that.”

     Throwing his arm over my shoulder he began to lead me towards the twins, “Yes I know and I am sorry in advance but this needs to be done. Fred!”

     Charlie’s voice had gone from a rushed whisper to a jovial shout when we reached George, Fred, and Ron by the fireplace. George’s smile as he turned to look at us sent a million butterflies off in my tummy.

     “So Freddy, I was hoping you could help me out with a top secret project tomorrow for mum and maybe show me around the joke shop. I heard you added some new displays that I want to check out.”

     “Sure Charlie”, Fred glanced at George as he spoke, “I’m sure we can make some time for our favorite brother.”

     Ignoring Rons protest, Charlie gripped my shoulders and pushed me in front of him, “Actually George I was thinking you could stay here and show Y/N around the area. She mentioned wanting to talk a walk tomorrow and I would hate to disappoint her on her first Christmas out of the sanctuary.”

     “Um-”

     I interrupted the rejection coming from George, “No please, I would hate to be a bother and make you be stuck with me all day. I’m sure Ginny can take me.”

     George smiled and shook his head, “No it’s completely fine Y/N. I would be happy to show you around.”

     “Okay great! It’s settled then!”, Charlie looked rather too pleased with himself and obviously missed the look exchanged by his identical younger brothers.

~~~~~~~~~~

     The next morning the Burrow was a flurry of movement as everyone began their day. Apparently Charlie and Fred weren’t the only ones on their way out. The others still had some last minute gift shopping to do and Ron was spending the day with Hermione’s muggle family. After breakfast, a quick wink from Charlie, and a slam of the front door - George and I were alone in the house.

     The two of us stood facing one another in the living room for a few awkward moments before George spoke, “Well, um, did you want to head out as well?”

     “Oh sure! Yes, let me just grab my boots really quickly.”

     George led me out the door and onto the snow covered path towards the small, iced over river. Nothing was said for a while, the only sound was the crunch of snow under our boots and the occasional sniffle from one of our red noses. I was mentally imagining all the ways I was going to kick Charlie’s ass when he got back for suggesting a walk in the middle of winter when we came to the top of a hill and stopped.

     Everything as far as the eye could see was blanketed in sheets of white. Stomping my boots down into the fresh snow, I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped as the snow gave way underfoot. Feeling a pair of eyes on me I remembered that I wasn’t alone and turned to see George watching me with an unidentifiable look on his face.

     “Sorry, sorry. That was - I don’t know why I did that. I liked the feeling of the crunch of the snow I guess. Sorry.”

     George grinned, “You don’t have to apologize. It was cute.”

     I could feel my face flush at his words. His smile grew even wider at the sight of my heated face. My gaze dropped from his pretty face down to my boots. I could feel the thick socks I had on beginning to grow cold and wet from how long we’d been outside. Looking back up I could see George’s deep eyes glaze over. Assuming it was because he had been apart from Fred so long I glanced out at the view one last time before turning back the way we came.

     “We should probably get back. We’ve been gone a while and my toes are getting wet. I feel bad enough that Charlie forced you to do this anyways without you getting frostbite or something. I’ve had frostbite, it’s not fun. And now I’m rambling. I’m sorry. Sorry”

     George was shaking his head at me and said, “You are so weird.”

     Ouch. My chest tightened and the small smile I had been wearing dropped from my face. If I had been able to see past the tears forming in my eyes that were making my sight blurry, I would have seen George’s face do the same. Unfortunately, all I could focus on was that word. Weird. Strange. Abnormal. Freak. 

     Weird weird weird.

     The walk back was silent. A thick tension surrounded you both as thick snow flurries began to swirl down in the midmorning air. Just as thick was the lump forming in my throat as I fought back tears. I know I shouldn’t let his words affect me. He’s just some guy. But deep down I also know that he’s not just some guy. This is George fricking Weasley. With his stupid perfect face and gorgeous eyes and his loyalty to his family. I couldn’t help but be enamored with him from the moment I walked in the Weasley’s front door. So it hurt to hear the man I liked call me that nasty word that has haunted me my entire life.

     When we finally reached the Burrow, George tried to reach for my arm but I pulled away and ran into the house. I could hear that some of the others had returned and really wanted to avoid a confrontation. Once again, luck wasn’t on my side. Charlie came walking out of the kitchen and saw me in the entryway. His face immediately became concerned at the sight of me and he lowered the sandwich he had from his mouth.

     “Draga?”, Charlie’s voice followed me as I finally reached the stairs and launched upstairs.

     As I reached the first landing I heard him speak again, his voice rough and hard.

     “What did you do?”  

[starshipsofstarlord]

Hey! Could I request a fic where the reader and Bucky like each other and she has to pretend she’s Zemo’s girlfriend for the Madripor mission? Bucky gets jealous and all that jazz and they confess their feelings :)

Madripoor Muse

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary | Bucky harbours feelings for you, but despite Sam’s inflatable encouragement, refuses to inform you of them. However, seeing you pretend to be Zemo’s girlfriend whilst on a mission, more so when the criminal knows what strings he is pulling at, happens to infuriate him inevitably.

Warnings | jealousy, violence, references to sex work (there is nothing wrong with it, everyone is free to do what they want or need to do to get by, angst, mentions of death, grief, smut, unprotected sex, fluff, swearing

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

“I mean, if he looks like a pimp, then I look like one of his workers.” Sam snorted at your words, as Bucky’s eyes trailed down the skin that was exposed through the small piece of fabric, that in modern days, was considered a dress.

Zemo simply sighed at the pair of you, shaking his head as though the former winter soldier would understand his point. “It’s Madripoor, not an american graduation. You are not going to be clothed in long robes in this place, expression is in the body, and how it is clothed.”

“Or not clothed.” Bucky retorted, frowning at how you shuffled beneath the criminal’s gaze, crossing your arms, which definitely did not help the situation, considering that it did nothing more than make your breasts rise. Admitting defeat, you let them fall, holding them to your sides, outlining your hips, which once more, was not how you wished to be portrayed as you walked through the illuminated air, careful to keep pace in your heels.

“We all have a part to play, winter soldier.” Helmut spoke, his accent causing waves to ripple through the euphoria of lights that lay up ahead. “I am me, you are you, Sam is the Smiling Tiger, and...”

“I’m a hooker?” Once more, Zemo showed disappointment, pinching the bridge of his nose as he turned to you. It seemed that tonight, you, a smart and well coordinated avenger, was absolutely adoring testing his patience, but that was his trick.

He was the captive here, forced to help the forsaken superheroes that had prompted him with the idea of escaping from the government’s ensured facility. And it was without a doubt that he would mess with their minds each chance that he got.

“No, think of yourself as more personalised to one person than that y/n. Your as you people say ‘arm candy’.” He used quotations with his fingers, causing you to reach for Sam’s arm to assume the role. “Oh no, not his.” Zemo made a come here motion, making you gulp.

“You’re kidding, right?” Bucky huffed, glaring unimpressed towards the Baron, who only tutted in reply, implying that he indeed was serious. “This is stupid.”

“Stupid would be allowing this hurrah of new age super soldiers to continue their war path, don’t you think James?” Zemo asked condescendingly, holding his arm out for you to grasp onto, so that you would look more than an associate, or a serum induced bodyguard.

“Me posing as your sugar baby is stupid.” You muttered, as you walked, Bucky on look out behind you, as he glared frustratedly at where you and the mass murderer were touching.

Zemo tugged you by the arm for the comment, causing you to roll your eyes at the man that had tried his best and succeeded, at destroying your team; your family. Nevertheless, you followed his stride, well aware of the sharp eyes of the man behind you.

As you entered the club, a spectrum of blue lights illuminated your skin, as you stared around in wander. There was a variety of all didn’t people, born from different virtues, wealths and races all intermingling around in the space.

If Zemo didn’t have a leash on your arm, you’d have stared for a little longer, perhaps even gotten purposely lost in the sea of bodies that flashed with such ambition and prospect. All were designed to suit their surroundings, and you wished that you could fit in that easily too.

But you were lost, roped into this journey by the Falcon, the man that denied Steve’s wishes and passed on the shield to firmer hands, still uncertain of where you were planning on going. What you needed was a fight, a reason to keep roaming upon the earth. If you came up empty, you may have well have taken up Thor’s offer, and accompanied him with his new friends.

The avengers were disbanded, dotted with different services. You’d heard nothing from Wanda, it appeared that her phone had been cut off, leaving you gravely confused, but you understood that she needed time to mourn. But you couldn’t give yourself the same pampering, if you did so, then all purpose of life would slip through your fingers, and you’d be left vulnerable, a hero that willingly fell from their graces.

Finally you reached the bar, with the shadow of the winter soldier hovering over your shoulder, watching as Zemo’s untrustworthy hand trailed along your furthest collarbone, using it as his sway to grab your attention. He set his sights upon his touch, glaring harshly at it.

No one would question the expression that he wore, it was only natural for his reputation to be proceeded with such a dagger like gaze; he was supposed to be playing the killer that he once was after all.

“My lady, what would you like to drink?” Helmut asked, turning your gaze towards his, gripping your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forbidding you from even try to look away from his sly eyes.

“White wine will do the trick, my love.” The words felt like spew falling from your mouth, but you withheld the impulse to grimace, instead, flashing him a flirtatious smile, fanning his face with your eyelashes as you were still held to face him.

“Fine choice.” He smirked, nodding towards the bartender, who had just presented the Smiling Tiger imposter with a shot that had the intestines of a snake floating around in its liquid. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as Sam hesitated to drink it for a moment, before throwing it down the hatch, treating it as an old trick.

Madripoor, for an island trapped in violence, didn’t appear that bad on the outside. That was, until the shooting began, causing the lot of you to leg it from the citizens targeting their rifled hardware towards you, running with your lives depending on it.

You had temporarily lost Zemo, as you put head your own safety, your pace and spot being just between Sam and Bucky, as the first man’s arms flailed as he insisted that he could not run in the heels that he was wearing. Huh, you’d be running in heels all your life, maybe he shoulda learned how to do so earlier, it came as a great talent.

Gunshots rang out, as a hooded figure unveiled themselves, introducing the older face of a blonde that you had once knew. It had been quite some time since you had last seen her, all having gone your separate ways to evade the law, and its cruel jurisdiction. “Sharon?” Bucky spoke, instantly recognising the woman that had aided them in the past.

Once you were all reintroduced, and met with her annoyance, which was surely understandable, she led you to her property, where you were able to part from the Sokovian, and share your distaste to the man, as well as remove the skimpy dress.

It pooled at your feet as you tossed it from your ankle, leaving you in nothing more than your underwear. As you squinted, searching for some reason that you were continuing with this foolishness of thinking that the world still considered you a hero, an echo of a knock rattled against the door. It was metal upon wood; Bucky.

“Come in.” You spoke, as you tied a spare robe around your waist, watching as the super soldier, who appeared less stoic, and more human stepped into the room, closing the door behind his emerging shadow. “You alright man?”

Bucky’s eyes drifted down for a moment, before they splintered back up towards your face, his jaw physically tensing, the notion well visible. He breathed in a long breath through his nose, as he stepped closer, his brow harsh and lined upon his forehead.

“I didn’t like Zemo putting his filthy hands on you.” He admitted aloud, the words of Sharon, teasing him for pining after someone that he had once thought of as no more than a friend of Steve’s. But now that man was gone, and so was the one that he used to be. Instead, he was left standing on his own feet, having to find balance by himself somehow.

“Neither did I.” You informed him. “It was like he was pulling back the images of his collapsing country, pouring every ounce of pain and hatred upon me, evading my mind with guilt, and the memories of what it all amounted to. None of it had been worth it, living like this. We’re treated like animals, no longer idols or heroes, people under the big thumb that keeps pressing down on us.”

“Well we’re both pressed down, limited to our rules and the outlines they want us to obey.” He nodded, raising his flesh hand to your collarbone, wanting to mark his touch upon it to remove that of Zemo’s. At his action, your breath hitched, but you allowed him to sweep his pads over the flesh, shuffling indefinitely closer so that you were chest to chest.

“We’re dangerous in their eyes. That’s a mindset they have in common with our prisoner out there.” You whispered, frowning from the thought. Two monarchies, one still whilst the other already fallen, served the same opinions, though, only one could continue to take action. Zemo was a Baron, but of what country now?

Like all, his home had been vanquished into smithereens, the foundations collapsing into rubble, the history disappearing with its lands, having thrown its dusty remnants in your face.

“I’m fine with being considered dangerous so long as I’m not alone.” He pinched your chin, tilting your head, this time though, you felt in his grasp. It didn’t belong to that of an enemy, it was one of an ally, a friend. “Tell me I’m not alone y/n.”

“I’m here James.” You stared up at him with focused pools, biting your lip as your mind went haywire over everything. “The Wakandans will come for him, you do realise that, right?” He hummed in reply, briskly bringing his metal hand to toy with the belt of the white wrap around.

“Do you think that you could show me that I’m not alone?” He nervously asked, shuffling his weight from foot to foot, as he awaited a reply. But instead of words, he earned himself the sensation of your lips upon his, collaborating in a touch starved jumble of grunts. “You’re beautiful, like...”

“Like what Barnes?” You prompted, brushing your palms onto his shoulders, easing his tenseness. Expectedly, you watched him through half lidded eyes as you leant up to plant supple kisses upon his neck, sucking his skin into your mouth, as though you were trying to thread it gently with your teeth.

“A muse.” He sighed, thinking for a momentum, before dragging your hair through his vibranium fist, lightly grinning as he heard your breath wither from the sensation. “A beautiful muse, one that reminds me to be better everyday. I want to become someone better for you.”

“You shouldn’t.” You unlatched your mouth from him, frowning lightly at the brunette man. “You should become better for nobody but yourself Buck, each day, it’s about self growth, fixing everything that you have ever been taught so that you can learn to do better next time, so that no one else will die because of your expense.”

Bucky nodded, allowing your words to sink in. His fingers returned to playing with the waist band on your robe, his eyes gazing into your own, as he fiddled with the material. “Can I?”

“Go ahead.” You granted him permission, allowing him to push the coverage from you, his eyes widening at seeing you in nothing more than your underwear. His sight traced every curve and bump and dip that was upon your shape, licking his dry lips to make his gawking less subtle.

“You’re killing me doll.” He leant his head back, as he raked his contrasting fingertips down your shoulders, all the way to the small of your back. You smirked, grasping him through his jeans, earning yourself a moan from the elder man.

“I said it’s all about self growth, didn’t I? It seems that you are taking that in quite a literal sense.” You rubbed him through the denim, finding it unsurprising as the man backed you towards the bed, your knees hitting the end sending you falling onto the mattress.

Bucky crawled his way atop of you, rutting his hips against your own. It had been so long since he had been permitted to be this free, and he knew for sure, this would be a secret that he would not inform any therapist of. This was private, the sentiment making it close to his weathered heart.

His lips returned to your own, as your hands scaled beneath your shirt, lightly tracing the scars. He wasn’t as insecure as he thought he’d be about someone touching them, perhaps it was because many of your own materialised stories were written in your skin, or that you understood what it meant to be a soldier, serving under orders.

It didn’t matter too much, he wasn’t overthinking it. Instead, he was yearning as he grasped at the straps of your bra, trying to pull it over your head, as was done with the dames back in his day, but the effort seemed more difficult. Lightly leaning away from him, you reached around your back, unclamping the contraption before tossing it out of his sight.

He didn’t care to ask what the modern day had done to the garment, he was far too focused on your pert nipples, and how they stood to attention before him. The super soldier reached forwards, running his smooth hands upon the underneath of your breasts, before interacting with the present buds, softly tugging at them with his whimsical fingers.

“You’re wearing too many clothes.” Released from you as a sign, instantly becoming pleased as Bucky stripped himself from everything but his underwear, leaving a nest of his clothes upon the wooden floor, as he leant his head down, capturing your left nipple within the warmth of his mouth, moaning lightly as your hands weaved through his locks, tugging lightly at the short roots. “Stop teasing Buck.”

He didn’t miss the way your eyes roll from the slowness of motions, and thus, he reached down, and snapped the band of your underwear, the ripping noise audible, as he then pulled his boxers down, revealing his bobbing cock, that was directing its tip towards your entrance.

With a glance down, he lightly drooled at the way your cunt clenched around nothing, quickly swiping his fingers through your slit, as he brought them up to his lips, humming contently at the flavour that graced his tastebuds. “Need to be in you doll.”

“Need you in me soldier.” You taunted back, digging your knuckles into his shoulders as you pressed him against you, pushing your tongue into his mouth, as he suddenly bottomed out inside of you, waiting for a moment for the pair of you to adjust to the sensations.

He was in you, filling you to the brim, as you tucked your heels into the base of his back, lightly rotating your hips up, as your tongue chased his own, sucking on it as you nipped at the end, causing him to unintentionally jerk his rigid cock into you.

That had prompted him to start moving, screwing his hands into the satin sheets either side of your head, as your bodies succumbed the others to waves of pleasure. It was a luxury, having an outlet to all the stress that your duty brought. If you could just pass the mantle on like Steve had done, and Clint was in the process of doing, you would.

But it was all you had known; the gritty route, that had spanned the entirety of your tale. And Bucky now became a part of it, as he became a part of you, unravelling your vulnerabilities with sleek thrusts into your cunt, and smooth words that had swept you from your feet and had landed you in a bed.

A bed thats structure was creaking from the strength behind the animalistic carnage that you spent on one another. His teeth pulled at your lip, opening your mouth so that you could use him as an oxygen mask. Neither one of you had noticed the door opened, and an unimpressed Sharon standing in the entry way, her agent arms crossed unamused.

She cleared her throat, which made Bucky still inside of you, and you to clutch onto his back, to cover the decency of your chest. “You let me go on the run, then you fuck in my bed. It’s like I’m not allowed to belong anywhere.”

“Sharon-“ she halted your speech by raising a finger, her eyebrows pointedly telling you not to bother trying to speak, as sweat beading down your body. Bucky subtly rolled from atop of you, quickly pulling the sheets over you both, giving Sharon views that she neither wanted nor appreciated.

That was grittiness, she was a hustler, not a once avenger. A part of you wished she would understand that, as much as it would be painful to hear, she hadn’t been the top of anyone’s list. She had disappeared, and from so, she had became unreachable, practically falling off the face of the earth.

But she had been here, in Madripoor, the island of bones and whatever else Zemo had described it to be. “You two fucked in my bed. Okay.” She remained cool headed, her eyes trailing through the various fabrics among her floor. “Thought I’d tell you to get ready, and to blend in, though you two have that part already figured out. There’s some clothes in the wadrobe, and from what I can tell, you’re going to need new underwear.”

She bothered no longer once she had informed you of what she had told the other men. Instead she simply left, only for you to brace your head back into the quality pillows, slumping, and dreading the journey ahead.

Though you seemed restless, Bucky still thought of you as a muse. His hands grasped your chin, leading your lips to his own, as he sucked on your bottom one, his right hand grasping one of your breasts, as he pulled you atop of him, your skin flushed as you steadied your weight over his tough thighs.

“Now this is a dangerous sight.” He clicked his teeth, trailing his large hand down from your jaw, surpassing the middle of your chest, to your hip, which he grasp, as he shuffled you up just a little, so that you were seated upon the base of his cock.

“I can show you dangerous Barnes.” You smirked, adjusting the both of you so you were ready to sink down on his length. Your hands softly stroked his erect shaft, as you tapped his tip upon your pussy, before pushing down, filling yourself up one more.

Madripoor was a bad place, but good things could come out of visiting the skull island. This was the job, though, breaks were prompted, and were you glad that Bucky had became your little bit of calm in the arising trouble in the world.

“Fuck.” He groaned beneath you, his balls clenching as he felt you writhe all the way down to his base, beginning to bounce upon him, the years of training that you had endorsed coming in handy as it had helped your stamina. He was a super soldier after all, you were surely going to need it.

[cinnbar-bun]

Diluc Finding Out S/O Had Their Vision Taken

A/n: spoilers for Genshin Act 2, I just my fave cuz.,,, big love for him. Also angst. Reader is not the traveler!!

He is not one to harp on you or tell you where you need to go or what you should do. He trusts you fully. You are his lover, and as such, he puts his complete faith in you. You are strong, brave, and kind. Surely nothing too grave could happen?

As much as he tries to delude himself with detached statements of how you’ll be fine, he does worry. Sometimes he worries about what would happen if he couldn’t help you.

Work and business keeps you both preoccupied, and many times you both would be estranged for many days- perhaps even months- at a time.

But he tries to assure himself. You were his most trusted spy and intelligence agent, and you are his lover now. You are more than capable of handling anything.

You informed him you would be joining the Traveler on their journey to Inazuma. You had become attached to the poor thing after helping them a few times, and you felt it invaluable to learn about the situation in the closed off Land of Eternity.

He knew of the dangers. You knew of the risks. He wanted so bad to tell you to forget that place. To tell you it was pointless, unnecessary, absolutely worthless compared to the utter horror you would have to face.

But he held his tongue. He was a man of few words, instead pressing a kiss against your forehead and hanging his ring around your neck on a chain. You did the same back. A reminder you both were connected, no matter how far.

He expected rough travels and perhaps a few scars coming back. He expected new information, your smiling face and tired yawn over how exhausting the trip was.

What he didn’t expect was to see Paimon and the traveler return to Mondstadt with anxious expressions on their face.

“Traveler. Paimon. Is something the matter? Where is (Y/n)?” He asks. His heart beats quicker. God. Please. Don’t let his nightmares be true.

“Well… you see…” the traveler begins. They can’t face him.

“Hehe… it’s um, a super funny story. Haha, you’d never believe it. Almost as much as believing that (Y/n) got their vision stolen!” Paimon awkwardly added.

“Paimon-!” The traveler hissed, frowning at them and Paimon covered her mouth.

“I mean! Um! It’s not that bad!! At least they’re alive… right?” Paimon tried to fix her slip up but Diluc couldn’t hear a thing.

“They… what?” He can’t believe it.

“It’s best you see for yourself.” The traveler took Diluc to the bar where you were sitting, a drink in hand as Kaeya and Venti were trying to tell a terrible joke.

Your eyes were faded. Dead. You looked like a zombie, a hollow shell of the person he loved. You did not smile, you did not even look at the two trying to get any sort of emotion out of you. Just as Paimon said, your vision was gone.

“Do you mind…? Please leave me. I have a terrible headache.” You murmured.

Diluc walked towards you, and Kaeya and Venti knew better and stood aside.

“(Y/n)?” He asked, unsure if this was truly you. He swallowed his pride. “My love?”

It was the first time he had ever publicly said something like that. Your relationship was shrouded in mystery and kept quiet beyond a few people.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” You asked.

His heart shattered. He couldn’t talk, couldn’t even form a sentence to respond to what you asked. Please be a cruel, sick joke. Please tell him this was a lie and that-

“I don’t remember ever meeting you. Actually, I don’t really remember anything. This young adventurer over there and their floating partner has taken me here, saying I was from here but… truly I can’t recall a thing. It’s all a haze.”

“I’m sorry. I must have mistaken you for someone else.” Diluc said. He stared down before he quickly walked out of the tavern, slamming the door behind him.

How was he supposed to react? How was he supposed to act with you knowing you remember nothing about him? Nothing about the two of you and all you’ve done?

He cursed the gods and everything around him. If this was their idea of a joke, he did not find it funny. Time after time, everything he loved was taken from him. Was he ever allowed to be happy and love, knowing he was cursed?

“How could he say that?! What a jerk! Who does that to someone they love?” Paimon angrily huffed.

The traveler nearly followed him out the bar before Kaeya placed a hand on their shoulder.

“Be gentle with him. He’s hurting incredibly bad. I know him very well, and he may not admit it but he’s truly heartbroken. I don’t want to hurt him more so… take care of him for all of us, okay?”

They nodded before catching up with the young lord.

“Diluc! Please! Wait-!”

“Leave me alone, traveler. I have work to complete.”

“Please-“

“This has been a complete waste of my time. I will not ask again for you to leave me alone. I do not wish-“

“I’m sorry!” They shouted, tears streaming down their face as they sobbed loudly. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

He stopped walking. He stood still for a few moments as the traveler cried and begged for forgiveness.

“You’re sorry? Sorry for what has happened to them? Truly?”

“Huh?” The traveler looked up to see Diluc clench his fists tightly.

“You think sorry will fix this? You think sorry will give back their vision, their memories, their ambitions? You think sorry can help them remember what had happened to them?”

“I-“

“You’re wasting your breath. Save it. I do not wish to hear anymore. It’s not me you should be apologizing to. You took their life. Not mine.” He glared coldly. He walked away, leaving the traveler alone as his figure slowly grew smaller.

He goes home and immediately reads the letters you sent him. Whether they were business or personal, he kept them all.

Diluc came across one letter. One that changed your relationship forever.

“I love you, Diluc. Nothing will ever stop me from coming back to you and being by your side.”

He couldn’t control himself now. His eyes watered as all his feelings burst like a dam.

God, he should be grateful you were alive. Why couldn’t he be content knowing you were back here?

The tears fell onto the letter, dampening and smudging the ink on the old paper.

Why did this hurt worse than anything ever before?

In an instant, he grabbed a match and lit it up, placing it near the letters and setting some of them aflame. Watching the letters burn sent him spiraling.

‘My lord’ ‘I love you’ ‘great news’ ‘I have been thinking of you’

The words flashed in his head before he threw them to the ground and stomped out the flame. Many were charred and burned, and he crumbled to the ground.

God. Why? Why did it have to be you? Why did it have to happen? Why did you go? Why didn’t he just say anything to keep you here?

[headcans-oneshots-and-stuff]

A sweet life

Fandom: DC Pairing: Baby!Batsis x Batfamily Word count: 1.2k Summary: A little excerpt of a day of baby!batsis lifes and all the sweetness Requested by a sweet, fluffy Anon: Are they requests open if so can u write a batfam x baby!batsis reader like something fluff you decide

Our story begins on a nice, sunny morning in Gotham city - a morning that had a rare feeling of peace and calm to it - and in the bedroom of local billionaire and vigilante Bruce Wayne in Wayne Manor. Only a few of the golden sunrays found their ways through the almost closed blinds and landed on the man himself, laying on his back on the mattress with one arm stretched out beside him and the other protective wrapped around the little bundle that was laying on his chest - snoring ever so quietly. Y/N Wayne, newest and youngest addition to the family, would usually be found here in the mornings, even if the evening before she was brought to bed in her own room only a few doors away by one of her family members. It was a lovable, if maybe sometimes a bit frustrating for Alfred, trait that Bruce could not help himself but take the sleeping Y/N to his room when he came home from patrol and saw her lying there in her crib. He just wanted to feel her warmth, know that she was safe and protected at his side, that he would be there to keep her away from all the darkness and the horrors he experienced everyday in this cruel world. It was rather fortunate that over all the years of training and fighting Bruce has build up a habit of staying completely still in his sleep and it seemed that Y/N had somehow inherited that, because she too was always completely still - except for the occasional wiggle - on his chest - both things that helped calm Alfred down slightly every time he thought about what would happen if Bruce turned unluckily in his sleep and she’d be crushed or thrown off the bed (not that that had or would ever happen). But, no matter how often he advocated that she had to learn to sleep alone sooner rather than later, Alfred couldn’t find it in him to actually tell Bruce to let her be in her own bed, so the routine stayed steady and Y/n always woke up on her fathers chest. Or rather that she was woken up. Because, just like Bruce who came to her at night to make sure if she was okay - only to take her with him - Alfred, who was unsurprisingly always awake first, no matter what was going on, quietly made his way into the room to make sure Y/N had survived this night as well. And, as if she could sense him coming him, Y/N’s cute half-squeal-half-yawn made him aware of her now awake state so - seeing as Bruce needed all the sleep he could get and he wanted some time with his granddaughter as well - Alfred did the same he did almost every morning and pulled Y/N out of Bruce’s embrace, exchanging her with a pillow so that Bruce wouldn’t wake up, and went with her to her own room while she was slowly waking up completely. When they had arrived in the room Y/N was completely awake and squealing in happiness at Alfred’s funny faces he pulled to entertain her a little bit. “How about we’ll get you ready and get you some breakfast after, does that sound good?” The only answer Alfred got, and needed, was your happy giggle as she clapped her chubby, little hands together. As always, Y/N (who was used to that interaction by now) tried to help as much as she could as Alfred changed her diapers and put her in a cute onesie with a bee-pattern, before picking her up and carrying her through the manner. In the kitchen he fed her, letting himself be a little more playful as he played the airplane-game with her spoon, delighted by the little giggles and the gigantic smile on her face. After that Alfred went to clean the small amount of dishes he had used to prepare Y/N’s food, thinking about what to do after, only to turn around and find her chair empty and the sound of steps that definitely belonged to a certain little demon. Sighing, Alfred shook his head but decided to let Damian have that win and get on with his daily tasks, knowing that her brother would take good care of Y/N. Damian, who was glad that he had been able to ‘abduct’ his baby-sister without her making a sound - something that he had spent weeks training her for - knew it was all worth it when she smiled up at him and raised her hand to pat his cheek. Happily entertaining her with peek-a-boo, Damian showed his softer, kinder side that had mainly developed thanks to Y/N’s presence in his life, before going to the entrance room where her stroller was standing and - like he had sensed it - Titus came padding towards Damian and Y/N with his tail wiggling happily. “You wanna take titus out for a walk?” Damian asked her seriously, even though he knew not to expect an answer, before helping her into a cute coat, shoes (even though she wasn’t walking yet) and a cute self-knitted hat by Martha Kent, strapping her into her stroller and getting Titus on his leash (which was more for the public eye than the actual use, because Titus was very well behaved with Damian and Y/N). The trip to the park was a pleasant one, not a lot of people were out so he didn’t have to worry about being talked to or someone coming to close to his sister, and Y/N seemed to be delighted by everything around her, especially once when inside the park her eyes landed on a familiar person. “Grayson, what are you doing here?” Damian asked, already annoyed at the prospect of his brother taking Y/N over. “Alfred told me you were off with the little one and I guessed you’d be here. Me and Barbara wanted to take her to buy some new clothes.” “She has enough clothes already, doesn’t she?” “Uhm..Well, I mean-” Dick scratched his neck, aware that he was caught, “-She’s going to grow bigger soon, so…” Damian sighed, aware that he didn’t have much choice, no matter how stupid Dick’s reasoning was, and rolled his eyes. So Damian said his goodbyes to Y/N and gave Dick the stroller before going back on his way to the Manor. Dick brought the little one to his car, strapped her into the baby-seat and drove to the mall where Barbara was already waiting for the two of them, happily taking her favorite ‘niece’ onto her lap as Dick took the liberty of rolling her wheelchair through the mall and through all the cute little baby stores where they bought two bags worth of clothes, toys and other baby-things for Y/N who kept on being her excited, happy self until she got tired and fell asleep in Barbara's arm. Later that day, when they had brought her back to the Manor where Cass was already waiting to watch Y/N’s favorite cartoons with her and when Tim came home in the evening he managed to win himself the right to put his little sister to bed and read her a story. And then, the cycle began again. Soon Bruce would come home from Patrol and everything would start again. All in all, Y/N’s life was pretty sweet and she herself sweetened the lives of her family in return.

[caelestis-composition]

killshot anon! YEAH i totally agree w/ your view on kaeya. it's so weird to me that people will blame him for his role in a situation he was forced into as a child through no choice of his own. that itself had to be traumatic, not to mention everything that happened later. i hate when people say he's untrustworthy - like yeah, he's lied, so has everyone? it's clear he does it mostly to protect himself. not to mention that (& sadism) can be symptoms of trauma. kaeya deserves nothing but happiness

take a seat folks it’s time for a “brynn should’ve been an english major” lesson! today we’re gonna learn some literary theory; specifically, we’re gonna apply psychoanalytical trauma theory to kaeya’s backstory and current character. killshot anon i bet you never thought this would result in a whole ass essay.

disclaimer one! you are allowed to dislike kaeya! i am not saying you need to like him or his character, you’re entitled to your opinion and i’m not here to change your mind.

disclaimer two! i am in no way an expert and this is all for fun! this is just my silly little analysis of one of my favorite characters as someone who’s studied literary theory and rhetoric and can also apply personal experience. seriously analysis is like a hobby to me and this is just an excuse for me to ramble about kaeya.

disclaimer three! this contains lots of spoilers! basically for everything we know in-game, general knowledge as well as stuff from his voicelines and character story. don’t read this if you don’t want spoilers.

since this is going to be filled with spoilers and is about to get really long, everything will be under a cut. for those who wanna read my dumb super informal essay: enjoy!

final note: yeah this is over 2000 words long can you tell i like analysis

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let’s start by getting a quick rundown of trauma theory out of the way. to begin, what is “trauma?” in this case, trauma is going to refer to an experience that greatly affects and changes one’s life; attitudes, memories, behaviors, mental state, etc. while not all changes may be bad, per se, the overall effect of trauma is generally a negative one, which is why it’s so significant. literary trauma theory, then, explores these changes and the impact of trauma in literature. it analyzes the psychological and social effects of trauma, explaining what those effects are and why they happen. in the context of a specific character, trauma theory breaks down said character’s behaviors, feelings, and general mentality in relation to their past experiences; trauma theory hopes to explain to others the reasons for why a character may act or feel the way they do, all based upon the character’s experiences, particularly traumatic ones. our character today is the lovely kaeya alberich, with the “literature” being genshin impact. i’ll be referencing kaeya’s wiki page to ensure i get all details correct for his character story and voicelines.

it would be good to review kaeya’s backstory before delving into the actual analysis. though we don’t know much about his life before living in mondstadt, we’re told he was sent as an agent of khaenri’ah. and by “sent,” i mean his biological father abandoned him in a completely unfamiliar land to serve khaenri’ah’s interests and fullfil his mission—what this entirely entails hasn’t been revealed. mondstadt, however, welcomed kaeya “with open arms when they found him.” crepus ragnvindr took him in as his adopted son, with diluc as his adopted brother. kaeya and diluc were “almost like twins,” so close they “[knew] each other’s thoughts and intentions without a word.” he’d began a new life in mondstadt, one surrounded by friends and family that loved him; one that was completely shattered by crepus’s death. kaeya arrived at the scene of the disaster, and was led to believe diluc was the one who killed their father to “set his father free” from the effects of his delusion. there’d always been one big question in kaeya’s life: if it came down to it, who would he support? the nation that abandoned him, but he still felt loyal to, or the nation and family that took him in and really loved him? overrun with guilt, kaeya confessed his purpose to diluc, sparking a fight between the two brothers. in this fight, kaeya receives his cryo vision. though both brothers stepped away alive, they’ve never been able to make peace with one another. now, kaeya is the eccentric and charming cavalry captain of the knights of favonius; a man who gets his way by using any means necessary, regardless of whether or not it seems right.

kaeya’s not evil; he’s morally ambiguous, and that stems from what appears to be a general distrust of others. his life is one shrouded in secrecy. from the moment he stepped foot into mondstadt, he was surrounded by secrets. even now, he doesn’t talk about a lot of things, namely his past, vision, and feelings. though he’s always willing to get information out of others, kaeya never reveals anything about himself. he repeatedly tells the player they can confide in him, but whenever you try and pry into his life, he deflects your questions with some sort of witty comment or flirty remark. anything he does reveal is vague, or spoken in some sort of “code.” for example, his “interesting things” voiceline. he tells us about the owl of dragonspine, how it “seems to look right through you, while letting go of none of its own secrets,” and then tacks on a “quite fascinating, don’t you think?” it seems like an awfully accurate parallel to himself; kaeya does all he can to get information from others, but never gives anything about himself. now, this whole thing—his relationship with diluc falling apart and his need for secrecy—could have probably been avoided if he had just come clean about his mission years ago. so why didn’t he? to start, kaeya was a literal child. not only are children unable to properly tell the difference between right and wrong, but they’ll also typically follow their parents’ orders blindly. kaeya had just been abandoned, and he wouldn’t want to risk being cast out by mondstadt as well if he came clean right away. you see, there’s this thing about trauma, something that trauma theory states. traumatized people feel a sort of shame or guilt regarding their traumatic experience; they’ll keep quiet because they don’t want to cause problems or bother others with their issues. of course kaeya wouldn’t tell the truth about his past, he doesn’t want to destroy the genuinely loving relationships he’d built in mondstadt. his fight with diluc only proves what he was afraid of: if he’s honest, he’ll be abandoned again. and if kaeya’s used to all the lies, why should he bother changing?

another thing, if he’s not going to tell the truth, then why would he have initially gone along with his father’s plans? again, he was a child. he really had no choice, and was forced into a very wrong and cruel situation. there’s a good explanation for this, too, which is also stated in trauma theory; traumatized people will still do their best to please their abusers. especially if said abuser is a parent, that will drive traumatized people to work even harder to please them. although his father hurt him by ruthlessly abandoning him, kaeya still sought to make him and his homeland proud. he was willing to be used as a tool for their gain; that is, until he found people who actually cared about him. he was an impressionable child, of course he’s going to obey orders. but as he gets older, he feels torn. does he serve those who abandoned him, or those that took him in? his father—and arguably, khaenri’ah as a whole—hurt him, sure, but he still feels some loyalty and connection to his former home. instead of revealing anything, he lets the situation play out. that way, he can’t be blamed when things fall apart.

the thing about claiming he’s untrustworthy is that hardly anyone in-game believes that. he’s adored by the older folks in mondstadt, and foes and allies alike find him easy to talk to. despite seeming lazy and uninterested in work, kaeya takes his job very seriously. in fact, his story states that crepus’s death was the “first and only time kaeya failed in his duty.” the “only time” is especially important, because it signifies kaeya still fulfills his duties successfully. he’s had a total of one slip-up, and hasn’t failed since. no, kaeya is not untrustworthy. rather, kaeya finds everyone else untrustworthy. it’s not unlikely that this is a direct consequence of being abandoned as a child. although it’s been established that kaeya and diluc were very close as children, when crepus dies, kaeya assumes diluc is the one that killed him. in order to jump to such an extreme conclusion against someone he was so close to, there had to be some underlying sense of distrust. furthermore, kaeya expresses feeling as though he doesn’t belong anywhere. he was abandoned by khaenri’ah, and then worried he wouldn’t be accepted by mondstadt. he is, but there’s still that worry. if you place him in your teapot as a companion, he tells you that your home feels like someplace he belongs, following it up with a “heh, who’d have thought…” kaeya still feels as though he doesn’t belong in mondstadt; despite the fact that he’s a high-ranking knight of favonius and rather popular, he still feels like an outsider. he doesn’t trust that anyone actually wants him around, and he finds joy in testing peoples’ trustworthiness. it’s noted in his story and through his voicelines that the beloved cavalry captain has a rather sadistic nature. he likes putting people into difficult situations, to see what decisions they will make. he does this to both opponents and allies, testing to see who’s going to back out and who’ll keep fighting; in the sake of allies, who can he trust? or who will turn tail and abandon their teammates at the slightest hint of danger? i mentioned it previously, but kaeya doesn’t care what measures he has to take so long as his job gets done and he gets the answers he wants. it’s a sort of self-preserving mindset, putting himself above the safety of others. kaeya’s trying to protect himself, which makes sense with all he’s been through. he doesn’t want to be hurt, and instead finds pleasure in threatening harm upon others. it’s twisted, sure, but it’s because he can only trust himself in a world that he believes is out to get him. he’s got as many enemies—if not more—as he does allies; of course kaeya focuses on protecting himself first, whether physically or through keeping his secrets, well, secret.

his most obvious traumatic effect is definitely his alcoholism. but he uses it as a distraction, not just to wallow in self-pity. this is seen again in his story, particularly in story 3. it’s found that when his favorite drink, death after noon, is out of season, mondstadt’s crime rate is decreased drastically. at face value, this just means kaeya spends more time working when death after noon is low in supply. but kaeya doesn’t skip work to go to taverns; it’s already been established he takes his job very seriously, so this means he actually patrols and tracks down threats while off work when he can’t indulge in his favorite alcoholic drink. he doesn’t get drunk simply because he’s depressed. if he did, there wouldn’t be a drop in incidents when death after noon is out of season. no, kaeya uses both the alcohol and fighting to distract himself. after all, it’s a little hard to think about feeling sad when you’re either drunk out of your mind or fighting for your life.

despite being so secretive, kaeya gives us glimpses of his true emotions from time to time. as previously mentioned, his flirty attitude is nothing more than a mask to hide how he really feels; and kaeya is terribly, terribly lonely. that may be why he seems so extroverted. constantly being around people should, logically, drive away that feeling, but it doesn’t work like that. when he talks with the player, he frequently expresses disappointment when you have to leave. each time, though, he dampens the weight of his words with playful or flirty language. he’s lonely, but doesn’t want you to know that, like he’s afraid of asking you to stay. he takes the seriousness of his feelings, and basically bends it into some sort of lighthearted joke. kaeya hides his true feelings—negative feelings, to be exact—so that he doesn’t bother anyone. which is, again, something that happens with traumatized people. he displays that hesitance to reveal his true feelings, because there’s a shame or guilt that comes with his past. he doesn’t want to bother others or hold them back, so he puts on a smile and amps up the charisma. one other very important thing—but very small detail—i would like to note is his feelings toward family. his fell apart not even once, but twice, and kaeya still holds familial relationships in high regard. we know he doesn’t exactly care how he goes about getting his work done. he doesn’t pay attention to what’s “right” or “wrong,” so long as he gets what he needs. but one of his informants, vile, notes that the cavalry captain has one exception: he won’t work with those who threaten others’ families. in fact, kaeya claims those who do should be hunted down and destroyed. even though his own families have caused him so much pain—and he ended up estranged from both—he still understands the importance of having people who love you in your life. because he didn’t get that.

kaeya’s not evil. ultimately, as a knight of favonius, his goal is to protect others, because no one was there to protect him. and because no one was there to protect him, because he’s been hurt time and time again by people who were supposed to love him, kaeya has taken to protecting himself. he hides any and all negative feelings with a charismatic, friendly façade, because he thinks it’ll drive away his persistent loneliness. any “bad” actions of his were hardly his fault; he was forced into a life of secrecy and lies, and then abandoned by the first people who truly loved him. kaeya’s a multi-faceted, tragic character, one that toes the line between good and evil, and that’s what makes him so interesting.

[burnedbyshoto]

seven

Rich and powerful men can marry seven different women in a wild attempt to produce the perfect heir. Todoroki Enji is one of these powerful men, and you’re his seventh bride.

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pairing: todoroki enji (endeavor) x fem!reader

warnings: edo period!endeavor (king henry viii inspo), forced marriage, alcohol consumption, 18+, smut, non-con, dub-con, size difference, breeding kink, rough-sex, pain, degradation, & mind break

word count: 5,750

a/n: fuck that family who started the fire in socal. my campus is literally raining ashes up in oregon. im so tired. two exams monday. im going to be going on meds for anxiety and adhd soon, so thats new. uh,,, this is like LOL its a bit bad,,, but I really, really lust over asshole enji who only wants to breed bitches and thats it. this is for the bnharem fantasy au collab, i wan’t that creative sorry see ya later skaters.

PLEASE CAREFULLY READ THE WARNINGS. PLEASE CAREFULLY READ THE WARNINGS. PLEASE CAREFULLY READ THE WARNINGS.

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One.

Fate: Spared.

Two.

Fate: Executed.

Three.

Fate: Died during childbirth.

Four.

Fate: Spared.

Five.

Fate: Executed.

Six.

Fate: Executed.

Seven.

Fate: Unknown.

Silks and expensive cloth held a scent that was irreplicable.

The smooth smell of the layers upon layers of fabric wrapped around your body did nothing to quench the building layer of ice in your stomach.

You were scared.

Rightfully so.

Six women came before you, and if you wanted to live, you would have to do better than them.

Marrying the Todoroki Clan head was something that most women could only dream of accomplishing in this day and age. The Todoroki’s, after all, are strong, rich, powerful, undefeated. They held the real power in this age, more influential and notable than the emperor that repeatedly begged the family for support, be it in power, strength, or money.

But, it was also known knowledge that the man who sat at the head of the clan, who held the power of the Todoroki name and future, was a man not to be trifled with.

Todoroki Enji was an endeavor of a man.

There had always been whispers about the head of the family, how he stood eight feet tall, and how his body was not lean like most warriors, but thick and savagely sturdy. His hair was red, blessed by the sun some claimed, or cursed by the devil others alleged. His temper and barbaric nature on the battlefield were, of course, rumored by the people on your lands, who had been indebted by the Todoroki Clan because of their protection and profits. 

Todoroki Enji was not a man to be trifled with.

Especially not if the rumors were true.

He was painted as a demon by everyone. Still, Enji was no demon, he was human, and if he was to allow the Todoroki Clan's legacy to continue, he needed an heir… but since he was human, he was aging.

Six women.

You knew that it was six women because you had been alive to experience five of them.

You remember the newly married couple being paraded through the streets.

Todoroki Enji remained hidden within his vehicle's confines while his new wife, doe-eyed, smiling, effervescent, would greet the gathered crowds. You often wondered what they thought when you would conjure in respect for the man who ensured your childhood and adolescence were not corrupted by thieves and horror.

You wondered what she thought when promising the village elders that she would produce a strong, male heir. You raised an eyebrow at the thought that maybe, just maybe they believed that they would be different -- be able to birth a strong, capable male heir.

Six wives.

Twenty children.

Two weak, sickly boys.

A whole clan of girls.

Were they idiotic, blind, or batshit insane to ever believe that they would be different?

You undoubtedly didn’t know.

Three of the six had been executed.

Three of six had been proud to state they would produce a strong male Todoroki heir, noting that his two sons -- Touya and Natsuo -- would be removed from the family as soon as their strong son was born. 

One of those three birthed a weak, sickly baby boy. She passed in childbirth and took him with her one day after.

Another of those three birthed four girls, two sets of twins because, of course, they were given two chances. She was executed on treason.

The final of those three had simply pissed him off; rumor had it. Her pussy was too tight, unwilling to sheath the thick massive cock that belonged to him… no point in breaking something that wouldn’t bend when there was more pussy out there (you remember she had been ugly too).

But what you didn’t expect was for his clan members to come through your village's streets with an announcement in hand.

Of the six women before you, three had held significant political power -- the three that survived.

Of the remaining three, there was a poet, the other a woman soldier of his, and the last being a clan member.

You had never known what the decision process was, not even a little bit, so when men dressed in dark robes with the Todoroki sigil and katana’s strapped to their sides infiltrated your village, you were on edge.

“All women who are fertile and beautiful, line up, and no, we don’t care if you’re married,” was the short, almost taunting order, and you had never felt sicker.

You were among the seventy females in your village that matched the requirement they demanded. 

Your sight was almost glued to the floor as they walked through you all, your fists grabbing your light blue kimono as the men groped the women in line, teasing the breasts of the pregnant women, rutting their poorly concealed cocks through the valley of asses, shoving between some girls thighs with loopy, proud smiles on their faces, beating any man who attempted to protect any one of their honors. 

But you were towards the end of the line, standing where they decided to save for last, and you were helpless to it all. You watched knowing that of the sixty-something women ahead of you, none of them remained. 

The whimpers, cries, and whines grew louder by your ear, your spine rigid and sore with its tightness as the girl beside you dropped to the floor in her fear. You couldn’t bother looking at her as the parting of their robes seemed to be akin to gunpowder going off in your ears. The horrified squeal on her tongue being silenced when a cock slammed through her lips, the tears pouring down her face useless, if anything, only encouraging their roughhousing. 

Your lip curled at the sound of her pathetic whining, the incessant need of her to tell them that she was not okay with this was nails on an iron plate. It annoyed you, it pissed you off.

“Look at this one,” the snickering laughter of a man breathed by your ear, instantly stilling and freezing the anger that was once radiating like fire from your chest. “She doesn’t look ashamed��� she looks like she’s jealous. Maybe these common bitches do have someone good enough for Boss.”

Spluttering gasps and hiccuping cries came from the ground, and you couldn’t even bother glancing at the woman you had known all your life laying on the floor, kimono ripped open, and white, sticky cum dripping from her mouth.

“Well, there’s nothing like taking her out for a test run,” came a sleazy smile, and when two hands gripped at your clothed breasts, you didn’t so much as raise a brow at their perverted actions.

You had won in the end against them. Each perverted, twisted intention they placed against you, dirt crusted fingernails digging into your arms, purpling, throbbing cocks pressed into your backside… it hadn’t mattered.

You didn’t budge.

You didn’t cry.

You didn’t make a noise.

A simple smirk remaining on their faces at your inevitable victory against the other women in your village -- against the crying, cum stuffed women who stared at your victorious and stubborn form without a clue on how you managed.

And where did that land you?

In a room with only one window too high up for an average person to reach, white silks and fabrics adorning your body, and ceremonial ornaments in your hair.

Six women came before you, but today, you would become the seventh.

With you, there would be seven women to have wed Todoroki Enji, but you weren’t scared because you feared the fate of the six before you. No, you were much better than them; you already knew that for a fact.

The anxiety that coursed through your veins created that ice pit in your stomach came from one place and one place only.

Your cunt already sobbed at the thought of even attempting at taking his thick, veiny cock you knew was the size of your thigh later tonight.

A virgin like you had no chance of survival.

The doors to your room soon slammed open, and your back stiffened at the sight of a familiar face of an escort you had. His eyes didn’t meet yours; they were focused at the wall, his face tense and tight.

“It’s best we leave now, y/l/n, Todoroki-sama doesn’t like waiting.”

The weight of the white silk on your body felt like a brick when you stood up from your position, and you wondered if the sweat from your pits and palms would damage the kimono -- if it was noticeable. But you had a duty, and as number seven, you had no motive to be executed before even getting the chance to prove yourself.

You knew how wishes worked; the secret was in being silent about your desire… never reveal what your wish was, or the world wouldn’t grant it.

Or at least, that’s what you told yourself every time you heard the all too familiar words of: “I’ll produce a fine Todoroki heir,” through the lips of the dead and the divorced. They had spoken it to the universe, acknowledged what they needed, and the cruel world failed them each and every time.

You were so wrapped up in your thoughts, so consumed by the idea of what would happen tonight, you hardly realized that with the heaving puffing breathes you took to keep up with the man’s ridiculous strides, that you had made it to the shrine that you had been brought to wed.

But you couldn’t even take in the beauty of the shrine to your left because you were more interested in who was standing in the pathway towards the shrine.

Todoroki Enji.

He stood on the stone-paved path, his bulky, beefy arms folded across his chest, the fabric of his kimono taut and tight against his flexed muscle, and a sour frown on his face. It was as the rumors had spoken, you realized when you stopped mere strides away from your future husband, he was a man that looked both godly and cursed.

Bright red hair glistened like copper pans under the sunlight, waving and flickering like a raging fire with every small burst of wind. He stood at almost eight feet high, maybe eight feet, you had no idea. All you knew is that as your feet stumbled when getting near to this man, you were dwarfed, feeling like a child next to their father as you gazed up at his unmoving, scarred face. His eyes didn’t look down at you, but even you could see the clear, sharp blue in them, and for the first time, you questioned reality.

Was this man truly human? Was he genuinely Japanese?

Seeing him before you made your knees buckle in fear, arousal, and anticipation.

You wanted to see what had made the sixth scream to stop.

You wanted to see just what he was hiding behind the ridiculously tight fitted kimono, but your thoughts were yanked away when his hand -- no doubt bigger than your head -- pressed to space between your shoulder blades and pushed you.

“We’re on a tight schedule,” he merely growled, his eyes burning at something a million miles away, and with a small, pitiful whimper, you allowed him to lead the way.

The wedding ceremony was… odd, to say the least.

While you had never been married, you had attended a few weddings within your lifetime already, and never once had it felt so disturbing dead and raw as it had today. This Shinto ceremony, typically doused with symbolism and motifs for the greatest possible outcome for the union between you and Todoroki Enji, was stripped from the shrine walls, leaving the walls barren and cold as both he and the priest proceeded through the ceremony at breakneck speed.

It wasn’t something Enji wanted; you realized that clearly the moment he refused to meet your gaze; his blue eyes remaining on the priest.

Everything the both of you performed together was done haphazardly, the lack of symbols you had always wished to see in your wedding ceremony forgotten, undoubtedly seen as a farce by a man like Todoroki Enji, but still, your heart ached.

You hadn’t noticed when the ceremony had ended; Enji never once allowing you to move, or do anything for that matter, by yourself. There was no use in fighting against a man who’s entire hand fit around your forearm, his thumb even resting against his fingernail -- oh yes, this man was huge.

There was no telling when he paraded you through the streets of his territory, allowing you to numbly speak to the village elders, to allow your parents to press their sweaty palms to your cheeks because god, please, please survive this, their touch practically sobbed. You smiled at them, eyes numb with the reality of what this was going to be for you, but the cheerful tone on your tongue remained optimistic and bright with every passing word. 

The scornful thoughts of the sixth woman being too weak to handle Enji had dissipated, and you wondered just what the other five did to survive what you knew was a massive fucking cock hidden beneath the shrowds of his black kimono.

You would survive, you would survive, you would survive.

But far before you were ready to, you arrived back at the Todoroki front, the wooden estate standing sturdy and strong, the air of power and aura almost tangible. The samurai and clansmen who had undoubtedly awaited for you and your now-husband (that was still odd to think about) to return. Pairs of warm, weathered hands helped you from the carriage, and without so much of a whisper of thanks, they escorted you away, heads bowed at the mercy of their leader.

Once more, you were abandoned in your room.

The window no longer allowed the streaming setting sunlight in, your room was in the eastern part of the estate, and with the nighttime coming, the setting sun was merely a memory to you.

And in that room, the tiny, unspacious room that seemed much more for a prisoner than the seventh wife of Todoroki Enji, you tried not to cry.

The door slamming open hours after you had fallen asleep had taken you by surprise.

Enji had left you to your own entertainment, and long after you were served dinner, and informed that no, Todoroki-sama would not be visiting you right now because he was busy, you had sat on the bed in your silks and robes, numbly looking at the star-filled sky. Sleep was the only thing you could do, and with the last servant visit being past midnight, you took to sleep.

Except that you forgot a sparing, important detail.

This was Todoroki Enji’s world, and you were merely his legal fuckhole.

The heavy footsteps of Enji entering the room echoed in your ear, and the door closed behind him, solidifying the end of the beginning of what you once knew. 

“Seven,” he growled into the night, and your spine snapped straight.

He loomed above you, the tatami mat suddenly feeling like a brick wall against your side, and you swallowed pathetically at the way his deep, raspy voice sent shivers down your spine.

This had been the first time you had heard him speak, all other forms of communication between him and the priest and he and his clan members had been nonverbal, solely told through those piercing blue eyes that only let you dream of what he sounded like -- of what he was demanding. But you lay confused, your eyebrows scrunched at just why he had called out the number seven?

Seven what?

You twisted where you lay, your eyes meeting his own, and despite the lack of light in the room, you could see the cold, distant glint in his eyes.

“Oh good,” he mocked, his voice low and dangerous, eyes squinted in his apparent lack of approval. “You can hear.”

“S-Seven what?” you stammer, your elbow pressing into the mat, pushing you up so that you could look at your husband, uncertainty and discomfort scorching every nerve in your body. 

You didn’t know what to do.

Then, it hit you. The bitter, numbing smell of alcohol coated in a fine layer around his skin, the small puffs of angry air from his mouth letting you know that your husband was inebriated, and your throat clenched when he began to dismantle his kimono.

“T-This isn’t a good idea!” you stammer, the white silk robes you were still dressed in because they refused to allow you a set of sleeping clothes because the marriage needed to be consummated, felt stiff and not protective enough. “You won’t produce a proper heir if you’re intoxicated.”

Enji raised an eyebrow at you, and your thudding heart failed to cease as his robes hit the floor with an unceremonious thud. 

Whiskey dick wasn’t something foreign to you; the countless men you had sucked off in your time, the numerous sex stories you had been shared with always had some instance of a man getting drunk and being able to get their cock hard, but this…?

If this was Enji’s whiskey dick, you weren’t sure what to expect of his sober cock.

His cock was already hard, the veins in his cock large, plentiful, and bulging in many areas. It was thick, without a doubt thick enough where it would take both your hands to circle around his cock, and it was long, the swollen weeping tip leaking against his abdomen. His cock was magnificent yet deadly, and your pussy spasmed in fear of having that monster all twelve plus inches shoved into your virgin cunt.

“The fuck are you doing, seven?” Enji snarled, his powerful naked legs moving toward you, his feet pressing into the mat, and his hand reaching out to you. “I didn’t marry you for you to just stare at my fucking cock like some piss-shit baby.”

There was no time to panic, protest, or even prepare yourself for the sudden sharp, dull ache in your jaw when he pressed his monster cock past your chapped, chewed lips. 

Immediately, it was overwhelming.

The engorging cock had barely passed your lips, but you were already gagging against the unwelcomed size, the horrid ache sending spilling tears down your cheeks, doing nothing but annoying the man before you. His hands gripped your hair, his eyes not even bothering to look at you as he fucked your mouth.

“Stop fucking resisting,” Enji snarled, his hips coming to meet your mouth in a vicious, unpleasant snap, the head of his cock pressing down your clenched throat, and so much of his cock still remaining far from your mouth. “Take my cock like the fucking whore I know you are, seven.”

You gasp for air, but with his cock ramming further and further down your throat, the scalding heat emitting from his skin burning your throat, making you gag and choke around him in your fear. You couldn’t breathe, you realized in a panic, and your eyes widened in fear, drool and spit spilling down your chin pathetically as Enji hums contently.

“Don’t feel so scared, seven,” Enji cruelly smirked up at the ceiling, his hips lazily, sloppily, yet powerfully delivering his cock into your bulging throat. “I heard what you did to my men, how you let them fuck you however they saw fit, how you scoffed and scowled at the other pathetic weak bitches who couldn’t handle a little groping… I thought you would like this? What is it? Never had a real fucking cock before? A little whore like yourself only gotten shitty little cocks?”

Wordlessly, you begged to be shown mercy, your vision blackening as he choked out all forms of oxygen, his war weathered body unbothered by your clawing fingers on his thighs. No, you were too weak for it to hurt him.

His hands left your hair, and you collapsed back onto the bed, gasping for air, choking, and coughing for oxygen that only burned all through your system, sitting unpleasantly in your lungs while tears and saliva mixed on your throat.

“Where the fuck are do you think you’re going, seven?” Enji barked, his body suddenly looming over yours, and you felt trapped, unable to move as the mountain of a man trapped you between his sturdy arms and legs. His cock, warm and sticky with your spit and his precum, sat heavily on your stomach, the size difference between the two of you even more pronounced when the tip of his cock rested at the bottom of your ribcage. “All you did was lube up my cock for your stupid, tight pussy. Don’t think I was satisfied with that childish blowjob -- next time, if you want to cry, make sure it’s loud enough that I feel it against my cock.”

You pathetically moan at his words, the tears still falling from your eyes because your throat and jaw hurt. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt.

“Please,” you gasped as his cinder hot hands pressed to your breasts against your kimono, he quickly enveloped your tender flesh in his hands despite the fabric. “Please, no more.”

“I don’t remember this marriage being about you,” he mocked, and with no more of a glinting snarl of his mouth, he tore the kimono straight off your body. The horrified scream that left your lips was silenced by the echoing slap across your face.

Pain blistered at the side of your face, and the resulting tears couldn’t be felt against your numbed skin as Enji continued his conquest, his fingers pulling and ripping any and all fabric pressed against your body.

“Get away!” you weakly whimpered, body trembling and twisting as you attempted to escape the man looming above you, finally ridding you of all dresses, hands pressing to the back of your thighs to push you into a position that he liked. “Leave me alone, leave me alone…”

There was no fire in your words, nothing but the aching fear and undeniable terror.

But the words did nothing to Enji, who continued to move you so that your tight, virgin cunt lined up with his throbbing, red cockhead. Even like this, your face was pressed into his chest. His body unworldly larger than yours, incredibly goliath compared to you.

“You know, seven, if you keep trying to escape me and you keep trying to save yourself, then why are you so fucking wet with everything I’ve done?” he growls down at you, his piercing blue eyes staring straight through you, the tears falling down your face doing nothing but encouraging him because he was right… your cunt, just like his cock, was wet, dripping with the undeniable pleasure of this all. There was a fire, a shameful fire, in your pussy, throbbing in time with the stinging pulse in your face that begged for Enji’s cock despite it all. “You fucking tiny little slut… I can feel just how my actions -- how my words -- affect you, getting you off like a bitch in heat! Your efforts to hide it are pathetic, fucking useless.”

Pain.

If you thought you knew what pain was before right now, you had to be wrong. 

Enji’s girth was overwhelming, nearly splitting your shuddering tight walls while he buried his cock entirely within you. Nausea builds in the back of your throat, a soundless shriek breaking past your bleeding lips, your hips bucking in their relentless attempt to adjust to the way that he was splitting your walls in two, and your face flushed in pain and lust press into his chest, the only part of him you could touch. 

Fuck, fuck, “fuck!” you cried, fat and painful tears pushing past your eyes, dripping down the apples of your cheeks while Enji sighed at the feeling of your hot cunt against his cock, blood seeping out of your pussy in such a pretty way he couldn’t help but smile.

“You’ve got a really tight cunt,” he observes, his hips slamming against you without warning, his mind only caring about him, setting off another round of painful screams while he situates within you. “Mhm, this is nice. A tight, young pussy always means a good womb, you’ll give me the heir I need… I’ll make sure to fuck you full of my cum.”

His hips then begin to thrust upward into you, the tip of his cock unable to reach the beginnings of your walls that he seemed to attempt to get to with each powerful blow. But it was his girth that had your body tensed, back arched in pain, eyes clenched in nothing but pain.

Pain.

Pain.

Pain.

“Hey.” SLAP. Your head snapped to the side, a burning, stinging pain on your cheek, alerting you that your eyes were closed. Your piqued breathing spluttered and so spaced between it was as if you were having some sort of asthma attack. Enji looked down at you, blue eyes burning demonly down at you (you wondered if this was the same look those who survived to see him on the battlefield claimed he had), his lips curled into an unapproving snarl while his hands pushed at the bottom of your knees. You pressed further into the tatami, the angle of penetration only furthering with your desperate screams to be gentler. “Shut the hell up, you’re annoying me with all this fucking screaming. Don’t waste my time.”

You whimper loudly, the feeling of his forcibly moving hips not becoming any easier on you, no longer a wave of intensive horrifying pain, but still a throbbing pain than had your fingernails cutting into his skin. “You have to be gentler! Be gentler, please be gentler! You’re so much bigger than me!!! My pussy can’t… my pussy can’t handle this!”

The fabric of the kimono under your body seared with heat when Enji shoved you further onto the mat, your legs twitching almost pathetically around his waist while your sight nearly blackened with his next action. He slammed your knees into the mat, increasing the angle of his penetration by a tenfold, sending you into another round of howling pain and pleasure as his cock slammed into your cervix -- bruising and scalding your puffy, sensitive walls with every powerful thrust. With his drilling hips and snarling speed, your screams and shouts of pain and pleasure and fear were cut off by an enormous fist around your neck, and his voice echoed from above you.

“Didn’t your dad teach you fucking whore to be quiet, seven?” Enji hisses, his thick hand clenching around your neck. Oxygen refused to flow to your lung, you went light-headed and limp, choking noises emitting from you while he continued to slam his cock in you, your clenching and splitting walls unable to keep up with the speed of the esteemed nobleman of Japan. “You’re my breeding whore, do you understand? You have no value to me except to be breed, to be full of my cum, to carry my child. You are nothing more than an object. Do. You. understand?”

Your head throbbed, the blood forcibly kept in your head, and the lack of oxygen made your world spin. 

“Y-Yes!” you choke on your tongue.

“Repeat it!”

“I’m your breeding whore! Fill me with your cum, I wanna… fuck, I w-wanna carry your children! I’m your object, I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours!”

“There we go,” Enji sighs contently, his broad chest pressing your thighs further into the bed, cutting off what limited oxygen you had left, and increasing the jabbing pleasure within you by a tenfold.

“Shit, such a filthy fucking cunt you have,” he groans, your walls spasming against him with his wild, obscene thrusts. He moves his hands further up your legs so that they press against your knees, your legs then wrap around his body, shaking as he makes no effort to slow in his advances, your finger drawing blood from where they raked down his back because he was burning an outline of your body into the mat. Your strangled scream goes unnoticed by Enji, a desperate plea for him to be softer.

But he wasn’t someone who cared.

You were only here to be bred, to give him a son, the strongest son the entire country of Japan -- nay, the world -- has ever seen.

Pathetically, your hips attempt to rise up to meet him, a prayer that it would ease this brutal force he was using. It was too much -- his cock easily overpowering your throbbing cunt.

The sounds of his cock slamming into your sopping pussy created loud wet noises that made you cry in embarrassment. Your face felt like it was seconds from popping out, Enji’s weight crushing you on top of the abhorrent position he was fucking you in, but he found it as an excuse to speed up. His rugged grunts are warnings in your ears as his cock finally hits your cervix with consistency that makes you wail. The stretch he gave you was boggling, and you were progressively less cognitive aware as he drilled in harder. His slams were so hard that the sound of his thighs hitting your ass let out a continuous and loud slap.

His fingers gouge into your skin, and you cry his name like a hopeful prayer as he is fueled by your appraisal, your breath hot and sticky between the valley of his chest. Your tongue pressing against his skin akin to some infant looking to suck their mothers tit.

The force in which Enji slammed his hips to meet yours. Above your ear, the growling pants that mocked you for enjoying this demeaned you for thinking you were anything more than his breeding whore sent a liquid fire that could never match the heat of a conflagration to your core. When your head smashed against the mat because you could no longer keep your head up. 

“That’s fucking right,” he laughs, drool pouring past your lips with your mindless babble, your eyes fluttering closed. Pleasure drowned in pain sobs expelled from your lips, invigorating something powerful within the entire family who watches on with impatient stares at the sight of your squeezing cunt around Eniji’s cock. “Take my fucking cock, bitch, don’t fucking pass out yet, we’re far from over.”

Enji was raw power, destruction, and strength. He pistoled into your sobbing core with the intent of getting his sperm into your cunt, to get his sperm that would get him a son into you, other than that, he was uncaring, unmotivated by your pathetic whining and crying. Your thrashing and wailing do not stop Enji, nor do they lessen the pace and the force he’s settled in as the floor begins to creak with every powerful thrust.

“I needa — holy shit, r-right there! M-More, more, more, more--”

“What? Do you need to come already, seven?” Enji mocks you pushing up off you so his back is curved, and your body so small underneath him. “Do you really think I’ll let you cum before me?”

Your eyes can no longer stay open as the only noises leaving your mouth are whines and begs for more. You forcibly clench around him to stir a reaction from him, but all he does is snarl quietly as he continues his rutting force. The pounding is rhythmic. His balls bruising your ass where he hits you. The feeling of Enji’s cock entering and leaving you draws your eyes to the back of your head as you pathetically whimper his name, his thighs hitting your ass at bruising force, only adding to your pleasure. 

Each powerful snap of his hips sending your back arching to the heavens, the balls of your feet digging bruisingly into his back. In and out he goes, your cunt nothing more than a cocksleeve for him, and your wanton screams and mewls taking him further and further.

Enji all but laughs into your ear, his hand moving from pressing onto the tatami mat and pushing into your opened mouth, pressing onto your tongue. “Suck my fingers like a good whore, show me that you’re not gonna disappoint me. Suck my fingers.” you sob in the thought, not because you’re fearful of disappointing the man, but because the feeling of his fingers in your mouth makes your cunt throb ludicrously, your tongue desperately wrapping around the appendages, pushing through the space of his fingers. “I’m going to fill you up so good, breeding whore. You’ll be leaking my cum for days. I’m going to make sure you carry the Todoroki gene, and I hope that it’s my son you carry.”

The words incite clenching heat in your core, your lips unable to form anything but a weak, pitiful moan because the thought of being filled to the max with Todoroki cum makes your mind spin. More, you want to milk them all dry. You want nothing more than that. With a ragged breath, a consecutive full thrust that sends his cock slamming against your cervix, Enji cums fully within you. His load is long and heavy, your belly feeling like it’s bulging when he finally emerges from your cunt. His once hard cock limping in his hands while you lay there defeated, his and your intermixed cum spilling from your pulsing cunt. 

Your mouth opened, sobbing at his absence, a need for him to return despite your core's undeniable tremor and ache. He’s off your body as well, and oxygen floods your lungs in dizzying and shallow pants, your vision fuzzies out, and you stare almost brokenly at the window painted with the rising morning sun.

Your room was in the east wing, after all.

You didn’t even protest when he pressed a smooth wooden plug into your cunt to “ensure you were bred to succession.”

He would soon leave your room, stumbling out with a drunken hiccup, leaving you to lay on a once white kimono… a once white kimono drenched in cum, blood, sweat, and tears.

You wouldn’t know until two weeks later, but Todoroki Enji had succeeded in breeding you, and you would eventually lay in a birthing room with blood and sweat and tears soaking your skin as a silent baby boy was placed in your arms.

“And what will his name be?” the midwife asked, her eyes wide with joy for you and Enji.

“...Shouto.”

[dangerous-realms]

Send 😮 and I'll introduce an NPC in My Muse's life!

//Ya get two

//though technically everyone's a muse if I decide to play em

---

This guy's name is Wivon, he's 4283 years old, he stands at 6'6, and is from the race of Luret from the Uremos Realm. He is a one of the Captians in Vinupra's branch of the army and has been for quite a few centuries. He came from a line of headstrong craftsman and joined the Vinupra army after the small town he was born in was ransacked by the Pirate King and his crew. His father was killed by Pirate King after he refused to yield and submit which would have led to his life being spared.

This led to Wivon seeking vengeance for his father's death as afterwards his mother fell into depression like state an would kill herself as she was unable to cope with the death of her husband. Wivon was about 282 years old at that time. These events led to him becoming a rather stern and harsh man, expecting absolute perfection from his crew as he rose through the ranks.

About 550 years ago he came across the Eoclivar Realm during a rather long mission that was taking a few years to complete. Landing on Tevotera to give his crew a rest, the would encounter the beastly Evolinaa who is now known as Azura. Managing to convince the strange teen to join him and his crew they would take off.

Over time, Wivon would give the Evolinaa a name, Romine. Of course he made her earn her keep, after all he was teaching her how to read and write as well as many other things like how to fight with an energy blade and shoot a gun.

A few years would pass and a fight would happen. They had caught the eye of the Pirate King and he wanted their ship and whatever was on it. The rules were simple, those who submit get to live and join his crew while those who didn't got killed. Wivon chose the hard route, and the fight was bloody.

As the fight went on things were taking a turn for the worst, and in an act of desperation he would sacrifice the girl he had taken in to create an opening for his crew to flee. Slashing Romine once, once across the her abdomen and throwing her overboard was just what he needed to get the ship and crew out. Unkown to him that she had started looking up to him as a father only to be betrayed once more just like Ragnar did centuries prior.

Unknown to him, Romine/Azura would become the pirate queen. A vengeful women who's holding a deadly grudge towards the man who betrayed her and left her for dead slowly picking off those of the old crew and those Wivon loves.

---

This guy's name is Vavengra, also know as the Pirate King. He's a fallen angelic from a race of angelics that belonged in a realm that has long since been poofed from existence. He was 53 920 years old at the time of his death and he stood at 7'4. He's the biological father of Azura's first born daughter Kira and her first lover as well. The sin that made him fall was that of greed.

Vavengra was a fair man who could be cruel at times. Running a criminal empire that spaned several universe's and being the on top of the most wanted list in all of them ment he had many contacts he could go through and sell black market items for a high prices.

He had a rule when commandeering ships that he desired to have and add to his fleet. A simple rule, those who submit and join him got to live, those who didn't died. Though while it was rare for those caught in the trap to flee, it did happen. And one day it would happen in the most unexpected way, an army captain slashing and throwing overboard one of his own crew to make an opening to escape. That was something that royal pissed Vavengra off.

After collecting what he would discover to be a young teen, Vavengra would nurse the girl back to health. Noticing that she didn't like being called the name one if his crew told me that Captain called her he gave her a new name, Zaishvaer. She was rather standoffish around the other's of his crew, not trusting them or him in the slightest.

But thanks to the fact that he treated them all like family and since they treated them like family as well, he would eventually break through the cold glare Zaishvaer gave everyone. To his delight, she would start socializing with the crew and bonding with them, becoming part of the family.

Over the next good while he and Zaishvaer grew closer and eventually became lover's, she rose to the rank of first mate. Soon she would fall pregnant after a passionate night and birth their daughter, Venniinkah. A little girl with his honey blond hair and Zaishvaer's golden eye's, a cute little thing with her draconic appearance and little flaming halo.

Sadly he would never get to see his adorable little girl grow up into the proud Evolinaa she is today. Having died a few days after a battle due to major injuries. He would pass the mantle to Zaishvaer, making her the Pirate Queen. And to this day she still holds strong to Vavengra's way of doing things.

[bakingandbooks3]

A Court of Song and Serpents

A bit short but the begging of a project I'm SO excited for- hope you love this as much as I do.

Summary: What a time to be alive as Nesta Archeron, going backward to move forward and finding that the places she once called home are now empty tombs.

Nesta

Nesta held her breath for a moment, a pause, and stilled entirely. The Court of Nightmares. She knew the verdict would be severe, but never would she have expected exile to a world of terror. The horrors of that place, of how it was once the main residence of the High Lord- till Rhysand.

Rhysand, the man who boasted of lands bountiful with choice and reason, now sat across from her donning unmasked hatred. A look he kept shielded from his mate, reserved just for Nesta. The kind that rips one apart from the inside out, would carve out the belly of a beast, burn a witch on a wooden pyre.

Nesta felt nothing, she always did. It wasn’t hard to see what he was thinking of her, how his beautiful wife’s wretched sister was little more than a gambling thief who slept her way through his glorious city. Now, fingers smeared that blank canvas so pure of her darkest shades.

Eyes flicking back, she studied that same sister. The Cursebreaker, the Savior.

How small and insignificant she became next to the glimmering shining thing Feyre was. The lands spoke of her beauty and kind touch, and how she sacrificed everything to save a world of people, and Fae that she was raised to despise.

Nesta wished it’d be known that her touch wasn’t always kind.

She built her bricks firm enough that her house of grace never shattered; Held firm, it was all she had left in her. Too many eyes on her filled with grief, excitement, retribution-Nesta was keenly aware of how this Court of Dreams felt of her.

“This is an exile.”

Rhysand's smirk peaked so slightly, his mate tensing.

“No, no. This is an intervention, a chance for you to find yourself away from bad influences and habits. You can’t keep living like this, and I refuse to let it continue happening and I take the fall for it. Your decisions are impractical and immoral. You are sober much less than you are drunk and-”

“If you’re going to condemn me, do it. But don’t sit here and act as if this is out of kindness.” Nesta snarled. She hated the barbed words, but it’s what she felt. “Who are you to question my morality?”

“I think I can speak for my wife when I say that your presence here is….” Rhysand growled but pulled back, like he forgot Feyre was right there, too.

Nesta wished he would’ve let go, so maybe that facade Rhys reserved for Feyre was broken. No, that’s cruel. As much as she hated this and him, he was making her sister happy.

Something Nesta could never do.

“I do not give a shit what my presence is doing. The decision has already been made, so stop scolding me like a child and make good on your word, Rhysand.” Bile rose in her throat, the words feeling nothing but slimy and disgusting. Foreign, yet habitual all the same. Sometimes, she forgets there once was a woman called Nesta who was so much more than the viper living in her now.

Sometimes she remembers that she can’t ever be her again.

Home was nowhere for her, not in a person, not in a place, certainly not in this bombastic group of “heroes”. Nesta didn’t need a hero, she just needed someone to care. But Nesta knew better, no one would. She was taught to be unlovable, just a woman to be sold off and married- to climb her mothers' ever-growing social ladder.

But Nesta on her own was never enough, even with her mother six feet under and rotted away there were unsung expectations unmet. She was a catastrophic failure and a dark smear on a family name that never truly held weight to her.

Nesta looked up, felt everything all at once again, could only see one man pacing a worn-through tether between them. He wasn’t going to stop this, but she could see it, how it looked like he wanted to jump out of his own flesh, the veins of his arm prominent and knuckles normally so brown a new fresh fallen snow.

There was no prince to save Nesta, much less any will to save herself. So when Mor took the pleasure of bringing her to a living Hell, Nesta did not fight.

She was tired of fighting, after all, she fought an inescapable fate for the first twenty years of her life…

Flowers always made Nesta sneeze, but Elain lit like lights during winter whenever she could thread them through her hair. They all symbolized something, Laine would say. There are ones for good days, and hard storms, for sunshine and stars.

Nesta was always adorned in flowers that paralleled the estate. Astute, cold, tired, where she was warm, comforting, and smelled like cookies- ones that Celia normally baked for the sisters. She never asked Laine why she picked the ones for her that she did, her reasons would stay silent for now.

Spring was a high time of activity in the Archeron estate. There was always a flurry of activity, from preparing their mothers' obscene balls, to guests at every corner in every room. The halls were sprinkled in candles and on walls hung frames nearly kissing it was packed so tight.

They were in the gardens. It was an Elain day, as the girls would call it, and no matter how boring or mundane her wishes were they’d be fulfilled. Nesta was propped on the floor in front of Laine, who was bunching handfuls to weave in tangled auburn coils that gathered on Nesta’s head- as a bird's nest would.

Eventually, Nesta would have to learn braids or risk knotting the curls entirely.

The eldest basked in the silence she created from mentally muting her middle sister, and spared a glance at Feyre. What she saw was not surprising, but required far more willpower than she expected to not burst into laughter and risk the flowery rat's nest on her scalp.

Feyre appeared to be so bored out of her mind she was eating discarded flowers of Elains. Actually, ingesting them, as if she was a critique. When Elain wasn’t looking at Feyre, she’d grab another couple and study them- analyzing her next experiment. Glaring at the blues and yellows as if she was speaking to them, “Which one of you will make me puke the fastest so I can run away?”

In time, Feyre looked up from her taste tests to see Nesta grinning at her so violently you’d think Feyre hung the moon.

And Feyre beamed back, crossing a pinkie across her chest and pointing it back to Nesta. Then she viciously spit out the grass she’d just finished chewing, crying directly at Laine, “This MUST stop at once, my stomach hurts far too much to continue on here.”

Elain, in a garden so quiet, simply ignored her sister's poor attempts at escape. Making Nesta work even harder to stifle the shaking of her shoulders, covering her mouth and nose before she started wheezing. Elain would hardly hurt a fly but sent Nesta a glare that could’ve easily killed a man.

Nesta cleared her throat, “I do believe there are more of the blue flowers down that hill near the pond. Would you mind getting some more for Laine?”

Feyre was already on her feet, mouthing her thanks as Elain turned her back to get the next bunch of flowers, “Why of course I will!” And with a very bad curtsey, Feyre threw off her shoes and was rolling down the hill, spinning wildly, her laughter sure to be heard in meadows far beyond theirs.

You would find the Archeron sisters all together, or never in the same place.

Laine was the easiest to find, by the waters or pond on the east side, in gardens surrounded with bugs and willows calling to the young girl. She could hardly read but if the text included any mention of colors and blooms, suddenly she was a scholar. Elain was not simple or dull, but rather a passive spirit, like a summer wind- brief, fleeting, but teeming with love and hope.

Feyre, as their mother said, was a reckless wild child. Far too young to care, far too small to be whipped into shape. If you were sent to find her and your life depended on it, may the Mother bless you. Feyre liked the kitchen, because of the immaculate food and maids who would shove any sweet down the littlest Archerons throat. But, also for the immeasurable amount of sharp items to be found in there. If it was pointy and could stab a wall or scare their ice-cold mother, Feyre would be running the halls with it in hand or making targets of her fathers old trade route maps.

Then there was Nesta, the firstborn. Molded to be another woman that she somehow couldn’t fit, as if her feet were too big or hair too long, Nesta was outgrowing the standards forged into her being. You would see her as a ghost, floating in and out of rooms, comfortable in silence and slumber, but never escaping people. She loved the maids and could recite all of their names like clockwork, and the workers loved her in turn. Always stuck in new worlds between pages or willingly dragged by the two youngers, Nesta teemed with liberation. She was often alone, but never lonely, and found new loves in the library or in the fields beyond marble confines.

Adela was constantly dissatisfied with her eldest's progress inside these walls, as if at eight she should’ve already been engaged to a prince. Granted, Adela knew better. Nesta would never truly find another kingdom to buy into when she already had a crown waiting for her elsewhere. She was known as fair and beautiful beyond her years, would age like fine wine, and become so much greater than Adela ever was. What Nesta saw as fit would normally come to be, an instinct Adela was unprepared she would inherit. Nothing left her more confused than this daughter only by blood, who was hated by both her parents for reasons far from the same, and how at less than ten years had an entire mansion wrapped around her fingers.

But Adela would wait, and simply leave them be for now. When viper's strike, they kill. And even though the Matron of the house wanted her little queen gone, she had other ways to see this through.

Anyways, children's blood on her hands would stain her diamonds.

---

Cassian

Cassian was violently fucking ill. Watching whatever the fuck that was did not help in the slightest. The second she was gone, so was he.

The General and High Lord were not on speaking terms, his presence was an obligation and not a request. When Rhys first displayed his plans, Cassian just about murdered him. Had his brother on the table in a chokehold that the Shadowsinger had to come and release Rhys from. The way his so-called family planned her exile was… horrific.

Cassian was full of light and humor, but not dull the way his family made him out to be. He could see this for what it was, punishing an already broken female for not meeting every damn need of a fully grown woman that was no longer her responsibility. Cass knew better than to downplay the sacrifices Feyre made, but he was also well aware that Nesta's habits were hardly a financial problem and more of a reputation scandal.

That’s what the High Lord did best, when his Court was breaking at the bonds, the mess would “disappear”. Just like the Illyrians hidden in the mountains, the displaced families of Spring, the homeless warriors of Night.

Cassian loved his brother, but more often than not he wondered when Fate would come to bite them in the asses for Rhys’ neglect.

Now, here he was, in his mothers' cabin, wings dragging behind him wiping tears long since shed over a woman who was thrown to the wolves and torn into so many scraps he wasn’t sure how he could put her together again.

He missed his Nesta, the one who threw glares and begged for her people, not this one who hardly spoke and caved into herself enough that she couldn’t see where she was heading.

Cassian fingered for his mug in the wooden cabinets and hit his mark, soon placing water to heat over a small fire over the counter.

He was not okay, not okay at all.

When you look for something in the dark for too long, you eventually find what you need but not always in the way you expect. Cassian coped the same as Nesta Archeron in his first years post-war. It was suffocating trying to be the happy one while dying inside. He watched men he looked up to fall and a lover he admired take her last breath- too much in far too little time. Cassian was not an idiot, he was simply perplexed. Why was he allowed to grieve in unacceptable manners, but Nesta was a sinner in holy clothing?

Bright walls and unlit rooms in the house were silent, only the winds of the mountains singing outside. The newly dusted snow wrapped the dirt in a delicate kiss- a forbidden touch. It was the peak of winter, just after Feyre’s birthday and another insufferable party.

One that Nesta wasn’t invited to.

Cassian wished he wasn’t invited either.

The cup in his hands was dwarfed in comparison to the bulky Illyrian holding it, but at least it was warm. At least it wasn’t empty.

Because if there was one thing he knew, it could always be worse.

Cassian knew that if things were a little different, he’d be the one sitting in a prison of darkness and Hell because of mistakes made as a child. He’d be exiled by family, cast away by the only living remains of a life once lived.

Nesta didn’t know but long before this he had called it even, their sins atoned for in hurting each other equally.

She was the only one in the world who could tell which smiles he was faking.

To anyone on the outside, one kiss was merely that. How curious it was, the iceberg went far deeper.

So when the mug crashed against the wall, and in its wake resembled his inner turmoil, Cassian took to the skies and found himself at the door of a place far too familiar.

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