#i’m not sure what the proper etiquette is :’)

[elviraaxen]

new characters who dis

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 5: What I Want

Summary: You begin your training with Ghost, but not everything goes as smoothly as you'd hoped. At least you're learning how to want things, and that it won't kill you if you ask for them.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader, some Ghost x Soap

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, oral sex, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, suggestive content, language, brief violence, reader has a breakdown

A/N: I know I was supposed to rest, but I couldn't help myself. I just had to get this one done. I was feeling it. We're finally getting into the good stuff here. Things will kind of pick up after this part, so I'm really looking forward for that.

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(Gif pulled from google)

You tug nervously at your sleeve, feeling exactly as you did when you had to sit in the director’s office at The Institute. Only, you never got in trouble there. You had never been summoned because you misbehaved. You made it a point not to get into trouble, avoiding it at all costs. 

You’ve been here just over a week and you’ve already messed up. 

Price is staring at you across his desk, leaning on his elbows as his blue eyes bore into you. You’re not staring at Price, you think. No, you’ve come face to face with The Captain. He’s angry, though you can’t be entirely sure. You’ve never seen him truly angry. You’re waiting on the reprimanding, the punishment, for him to tell you they’re sending you back because you’re too much trouble. 

“I want you to tell me exactly what happened.”

You flinch at his voice, half expecting him to start shouting but he sounds almost calm. There’s a strain to his voice, like he’s restraining himself. He’s doing it for your sake, you think. 

“Ghost and I were walking back from the mess when one of the alphas called out to me. He...he asked if I was going to go spread my legs for ‘that freak’ and he said he could offer me a better time.” You swallow thickly, Price’s shoulders tensing just slightly. “I don’t know what happened...I just suddenly felt so angry and it’s like I lost control of myself and I went up to him and he asked if I was gonna take him up on his offer and that he’d like to bend me over and stare at my sweet ass all night...and then I hit him, sir.” 

“Good.” 

You look up at Price in surprise at his answer, your eyes widening a bit. “S-sorry, sir?” 

“I have little tolerance for alphas that think it’s alright to speak crudely to omegas, especially those they were explicitly told to let be. You saved me a lot of paperwork today. Simon would have done a lot worse had you not gotten to him first.” He moves the papers on his desk aside, holding out his hand. “Let me see.” 

You stare at his hand for a moment before you realize he’s talking about your hand. You push your sleeve up, putting your hand in his. Your knuckles have swollen a bit and bruised, tender to the touch as he runs his thumb over them. 

“Simon told me you asked him to teach you to fight.” He says, closing his fingers around your hand. 

“Well, not so much fight, sir.” You say, staring at your hands. “Maybe just how to throw a decent punch.” 

“I’d say the one you threw today was at least half-decent. Corporal Allen is sporting quite the bruise on his face.” The corner of his lips lift in a smile. “You won’t have to worry about him anymore. He’ll be properly dealt with and they’ll all be receiving a lecture on proper base etiquette.” 

“So...am I in trouble, sir?” You ask, pulling your hand back slowly as he releases it. 

“No, you were simply defending yourself after Corporal Allen made a pass at you. Just don’t make it a habit of going around punching alphas.” He smiles. 

“I’ll try not to, sir.” You say, relieved that you weren’t about to get punished for your mistake. 

“Go on.” He nods towards the door. “I’m sure the boys are waiting for you.” 

“Thank you, sir.” You say, standing up from your chair, heading towards the door. 

Price leans back in his chair as the door closes, the sweet scent of caramel and strawberries still permeating his office. He breathes it in for a moment before pulling out his phone, scrolling through the contacts. 

“You’ll be delighted to hear our girl punched an alpha in the face today.” He says once the other line picks up. 

“She did what?” Laswell asks, genuine surprise in her tone. 

“One of the Corporals made a pass at her, and she left quite the bruise on his cheek. She’s turning into quite the spitfire.” 

“I told you she would fit right in. Underneath all that institute-taught BS there’s quite the personality. How is she settling in?” 

“She’s softening up to the betas already. Still a bit fidgety, but she’s found a way to get Simon to warm up to her.” 

“Oh? How so?” 

“She asked him to teach her to fight.” Price grins. 

Laswell chuckles. “I told you she’s smart. Just make sure he’s gentle with her.” 

“Don't worry, I reminded him to go easy on her. I think it will be good for both of them. Some forced proximity will be good for Simon and she’ll get to learn a few things that could be helpful.” 

“So long as she doesn’t go around trying to fight more alphas.” 

“She’s already promised not to. The Corporal got off easy. I can only imagine what Simon might have done to him.” 

“I’m glad to hear things are going well, John. I worry about her sometimes, but I know you boys will take good care of her.” 

“We’re doing our best.” 

“If you ever need anything, you know you can call.” 

“I know. I’ll keep you updated as her heat gets closer.” 

“Good. I’d hate to have to file that paperwork.” 

Price grimaces. “I know. I hope you don’t have to.” 

You’re tying your shoes as the knock sounds on the door. You’re not sure how they manage to do it, always seeming to catch you at the perfect moment. You’re glad Kate thought to get you some more active-wear type clothing, though perhaps she expected you’d be getting involved in their training or at least start a bit of your own once you arrived, just as she had thought to get you outdoorsy clothes too. 

You open the door, staring up at the hulking form of Ghost. 

“Come on.” He grunts, turning on his heel to walk down the hallway. 

You quickly close your door, hurrying after him. Not much has changed since your request for him to train you, though you didn’t really expect it to. Not at first, at least. You still have to prove yourself to him. Simply existing and getting involved in their lives would not be enough. 

He escorts you to the gym, a building you haven’t been in yet. There’s a few soldiers milling around, most of them in the weight room. There’s a pool across from the weight room, for more than just swimming, you think. Your father had talked about his own water survival training. You can only imagine the kind of water training they go through. 

Ghost leads you towards the back of the gym, unlocking a door near the exit. It’s set up not unlike a dojo, mats on the floor and punching bags and other training equipment along the walls. Ghost empties his pockets, setting his things on a bench before removing his sweatshirt. 

You can’t help but stare, only ever having seen him in long sleeves. His muscles bulge beneath his t-shirt, the first bit of skin revealed to you besides his neck, chin, and hands. Your eyes are drawn to his arms, taking in the sheer size of them. 

Tattoos. 

He has a sleeve of tattoos on his left arm. You have a desire to look at them closer, to trace each one but you wouldn’t dare. Not right now. You pull off your own sweatshirt, folding it and setting it on the bench, leaving you in just a t-shirt and your leggings. 

You fail in your attempt not to stare as he walks towards the center of the mat in his t-shirt and sweatpants, swallowing nervously. He turns to face you, motioning for you to approach with two of his fingers. Your face warms as you hurry onto the mat, coming to stand in front of him. 

“Let me see.” He says, holding out his hand. 

You stare at it for a moment before your brain catches up, and you put your right hand into his. You ignore the feeling of his fingers wrapping around your hand, lifting it so he can inspect your still bruised knuckles. 

“We’ll start with dodging.” He says, releasing your hand, taking a step back. “Let me see your stance.” 

You part your feet a little, bringing your fists up to your face. His shoulders shake in a quiet huff of a laugh as he stares at you. 

“You need to stagger your stance more.” He says, circling you. “Otherwise,” Hands push you from behind, and you nearly avoid face planting into the floor. “You’re too easy to knock over. The last thing you want is the fight to end up on the floor. You won’t be getting back up if you let your opponent overpower you that much. Again.” He motions to you. 

You set up your stance again, widening your feet just a bit. 

“Good.” He says, moving to stand in front of you. “These protect your face.” He says, hands wrapping around your wrists, raising your hands just a bit. “You get hit in the face...” 

“I won’t be getting back up.” You finish for him. 

You know most fights end up with both opponents on the ground. You’d watched your brothers wrestle and play fight enough to know that. You’re not here to learn how to win a fight, only how to protect yourself enough until you can find space to run. 

You barely have time to stumble back as his fist swings at you, nearly losing your footing. “Hey! You could warn me first.” 

“You think someone attacking you is going to warn you?” He asks. 

He has a point. 

“Use your legs.” He says as you set yourself up again. “Move side to side if you can instead of ducking under the punch, but if you have to, don’t let your eyes leave your opponent.” 

You see this punch coming, ducking to your right to avoid getting hit. 

“Good.” He says, repeating the motion with his left hand. “Stay focused.” 

You continue with the same motion a few times, already starting to feel a bit fatigued. Running is one thing, but strength is another. Most omegas aren’t naturally strong, nor are they inclined to increase their strength. That’s what alphas and their packs are for. It’s not unheard of, though, for omegas to increase their physical strength. Perhaps you’ll need to consider looking into doing that as well. 

Ghost takes a step back, letting you rest for a moment. You’re breathing heavily, though he’s hardly looking fatigued at all. He’s used to this, you remind yourself. He probably throws more punches in a day in the field than he’s thrown at you so far in 30 minutes. 

“Now, let’s make it a bit more realistic.” He says, a low rumble at the edge of his voice. 

A wave of scent hits you, your brain nearly short-circuiting. Fear pulses through you, ozone burning your nostrils. You stumble backwards, landing on your back on the mat. You’re breathing heavily, every cell in your body screaming at you to run or submit. 

“That’s...that’s n-not fair!” You say, your hands trembling from the adrenaline coursing through you. 

“Any alpha you fight is going to use every natural advantage they have over you.” Ghost says, stalking towards you. You can practically see it, the purebred alpha within him coming through. “You need to learn to protect yourself against them.” 

“That's...that’s not possible.” You say, the edge of a whine detectable in your tone. 

He kneels down over you, crowding into your space despite the souring of your scent. It doesn’t even seem to phase him as he forces you flat on your back, his hands coming to rest on either side of your head. You stare up at him, every fiber of your being screaming at you to bare your throat, submit, give in. 

Don’t back down. 

Don’t back down. 

You push past the fear, the instincts screaming at you as you drive your knee up into his stomach. He lets out a grunt but it doesn’t phase him, his hand wrapping around your leg, using his sheer strength to flip you onto your stomach under him. He presses against you, body folding over yours. You resist the urge, the instinct to press back into him, to be a good omega. 

“If an alpha gets you onto the floor...” He says, warm breath fanning your ear through his mask. “You won’t want to get back up.” 

His face presses against your neck as he inhales deeply before he pushes himself up, grabbing the back of your shirt and hauling you to your feet as well. You’re shaking, your heart thumping in your chest. Your head feels fuzzy, your brain buzzing a bit. Your omega is confused, poised to strike but she’s not sure against who. Ghost isn’t a threat, and you know that, but he had just proved how easily he could be. Any of them could be, with a simple scent change and their sheer strength. 

“Again.” He says, getting into a fighting stance. 

“You can’t expect me to fight after that.” You say, your voice breathless. 

“If you’re in a real fight, you won’t have much of a choice.” He says, the rumble still audible around his own voice. 

He’s right. If someone is attacking you, it’s likely going to be to kill, or to try and take you from them. Your omega shifts uncomfortably as you raise your shaking hands to guard your face. You continue to dodge punches, hitting the ground more and more as you continue to get tired. You’re going to be sore, still feeling your hike through the woods a bit. 

The door opens, giving you a moment to breathe. Soap enters, a grin on his face. 

“Ah, the wee lass is still breathin’.” He says, leaning against the wall. “Came tae make sure ye hadnae killed ‘er.” 

You can practically hear Ghost roll his eyes, his back turned to you as he says something to Soap. You can’t hear what it is, the ringing in your ears too loud. Your omega is still worked up, still poised to strike, more so now in your exhausted state. You push yourself off the floor, not having a moment to think things through before you’re throwing yourself at Ghost’s back. 

He turns before you hit him, catching you and flipping you onto your back on the mat. You hit hard, the breath forced from your lungs at the impact.

“Christ, Simon!” Soap shouts, hurrying to your side. “Ye tryin’ tae break her, ye numpty?” 

“Don’t do that again.” Ghost growls at you, stomping over to grab his things before leaving the room. 

“Easy, hen.” Soap soothes you as you gasp for air, his hand gently rubbing your shoulder. “Be over before ye know it.” 

Slowly the paralysis of your diaphragm begins to lessen, your stomach still aching but the air comes easier now. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to fight the tears. You’ve messed it up. One day and you’ve already done more damage than you would have had you not asked him to teach you to fight. 

“Don’ worry, hen. He’s just worked up, that's all.” Soap says, brushing a damp strand of hair from your forehead. 

“It’s his fault.” You murmur. 

“Maybe, but yer scent...surprised you didn’t notice, hen.” Soap wiggles his brows. 

Your face warms. You hadn’t noticed the uptick of muskiness in the room, the heady scent of arousal before now.

It’s not yours. 

“Me?” You ask, letting Soap help you into a seated position. 

Soap smirks. “It wasnae me that tented his breeks this time.” 

Your face warms even more, your body feeling like it might explode. 

“Come on, hen.” He says, slipping his hands under your arms to lift you to your feet. “There’s still time tae shower before breakfast.” 

“I can assume you know why you were called in here sooner than our normal weekly meeting time.” Dr. Keller says as you sit in her office. 

“Because I punched Corporal Allen.” You say with a wince. 

Dr. Keller nods. “Indeed. I just want to make sure you’re feeling alright, after that. Getting into an altercation with an alpha can be tough.” 

“I don’t think I’d call it an altercation.” You say quietly. 

“Maybe not,” She says, shuffling her papers. “But standing up to an alpha can be daunting.” 

“I wasn’t alone.” You shrug. “Ghost was there.” 

“I saw both yours and Lieutenant Riley’s account of what happened. I’m wondering, would you have confronted him if you were alone?” 

Her question makes you think for a moment. Would you have stopped? Would you have confronted him, much less punched him if you were alone, or even with one of the others? No, you likely would have ignored him and kept walking like you did with Gaz. You’d likely have gone straight to your room and cried a little out of embarrassment and disgust. 

“No, ma’am.” You say quietly. “I don’t think so.” 

Dr. Keller nods. “You’re aware of Lieutenant Riley’s status.” 

You nod, a frown pulling at your brows. How did she figure it out? “Yes, ma’am.” 

“I know because I have access to their medical records.” Dr. Keller says. “It’s required for statuses to be present in medical records since purebreds have to be treated differently, just as alphas, betas, and omegas have to be treated differently.” 

You do know that. You know that an injured alpha can get defensive if they feel cornered. You know omegas can die from stress if they’re not taken care of correctly. You know betas can get overwhelmed by large groups of injured people all in the same place without proper training to filter out the scents of agony and suffering. 

“I think you reacted to his scent.” Dr. Keller continues. “You mentioned feeling a sudden rush of uncontrollable anger. Do you remember smelling anything at that moment?” 

You nod. “Ozone.” 

She nods, the pieces beginning to come together in your own head. “I’m sure you’ve figured out how different purebred alpha’s are and how much more potent their scents are. Your own status makes you more susceptible to their scents and the changes in them. You were reacting to the change in his scent. Your omega sensed a threat, and took over for a moment to defend you. It’s a natural response in omegas towards those they see as protectors, or even packmates.” 

Your eyes widen a bit at her words. Ghost is technically your packmate. He’s an alpha in your pack, but you’ve never considered that you see him as anything but. He has defended you, and he had defended you not long before your altercation with Corporal Allen. Had your omega begun to cling to him out of a sheer need for protection after something like what happened in the mess? 

You would like Ghost to see you as more than just an omega in his pack, more than just Price’s omega. You know he’d never claim you, but you’d at least like to get onto friendly terms with him. Soap said it had taken proving himself before Ghost started to accept him. You’re hoping your time spent learning how to fight helps you prove yourself, that you’re not a threat or even a risk. That maybe you can be an acceptable omega for his pack. 

“Aside from this incident, how are you settling in? How are things going with your new pack?” 

“Fine, I guess.” You shrug, starting to pick at your sleeve again. “Ghost is teaching me to defend myself.”

“Oh? Does this have something to do with what happened with Corporal Allen? Or is there a different reason?” Dr. Keller asks. 

“I mean, partially that but also, Ghost, he’s...hard to get along with.” You grimace. “I know that in relationships, a good way to bond with people is to get into their hobbies so you have something in common. Ghost...ghost speaks in violence and I think it would help ease some of my fears if I can at least defend myself.” 

“I think this is a great idea. It allows for some bonding time between the two of you, and it can also be beneficial to ease your anxiety a bit. As long as you’re being careful and you don’t get hurt.” She says, giving you a pointed look. 

You think back to Ghost flipping you onto your back on the mat, narrowly missing getting hit, how he’d pinned you down using his own scent against you. “He’s being careful.” You say, clearing your throat. “Price would put him through the ringer if something happened. Even just as an accident.” 

“How are things going with Price?” She asks, writing something down. 

You shrug. “Fine. He involved me in some training this past weekend. We hiked out to a watchtower and the others tried to follow my scent. We got to spend some time together while we waited.” 

“Have you done much of that? Spending time together?” She asks. 

You shake your head. “Not really. He’s...busy. A lot.” 

“You should start making an effort to get to know him more.” Dr. Keller says. “It’ll make it easier once your heat hits if you’re familiar with him. Have you knelt for him yet?” 

You shake your head again, not wanting to answer out loud. 

“Why not?” She asks. 

“He still hasn’t asked me to.” You murmur. 

“Do you know why omegas kneel for their alphas?” She asks. 

You nod. “It’s good for our brains and bodies. It helps relax us and soothes our omega, makes it easier to process stressful events and can prevent stress related diseases later in life.” 

Dr. Keller nods. “Correct. It’s an important first step in building that bond between an alpha and an omega, when it’s done correctly.” 

Bad alphas can use kneeling to control omegas, put them in certain mindsets, make them more subservient. You know this, you’d heard stories from your fellow omegas after watching their parents. That’s not kneeling. You never had the heart to tell them it was so much worse. 

“Do you want to kneel for him?” She asks you. 

That word again. 

You do want to kneel for him. You’ve wanted to since this past Saturday in the watchtower. You’ve felt that urge, that drive to drop to your knees beside him and let yourself go, let him carry everything you’ve been feeling over the last week. 

You nod slowly, ripping one of the strings off your sleeve. You’re fighting the tears, fighting the emotions welling up inside you. You can feel them building, pushing against your stomach and your chest, threatening to burst right out of your skin and leave you nothing but an empty carcass. You’re breathing has picked up, shaking a bit as you inhale deeply. 

“Why haven’t you asked?” Dr. Keller asks, her brows furrowing as she stares at you. 

“I don’t know how!” The words tear from your lips, almost echoing as they bounce off the walls like projectiles. You haven’t so much as raised your voice in years, much less to a person of authority, but you can’t stop. The dam has been breached. “Everyone keeps asking me what I want, but I don’t know how to want!” Tears cascade down your cheeks, your breaths coming in sharp gasps. You cover your face with your hands, muffling your sobs. “I’m not supposed to want.” 

“Hey,” Dr. Keller’s voice is soft as she kneels in front of you, her hands trying to gently pry yours away from your face. “Who told you that?” 

“That’s what we’re taught!” You hiccup, letting her pull your hands from your face. The tears are still falling, lips trembling as you sob. “We’re supposed to be good omegas. Obedient and serve our alphas. We don’t want anything, we’re only supposed to give.” 

“Well that’s a load of bullshit if I’ve ever heard it.” 

Dr. Keller’s words shock you into reality, your sobs halting with a sharp inhale. You stare at her, the tears still spilling from your eyes. Your hands are closed into fists, your sore knuckles aching from the strain. 

“You’re an omega. It’s in your nature to want, to need. You can’t help your alpha if your own needs aren’t being met first. It’s okay to need things, to want things. Are there things you want?” 

“Softer blankets. Fluffier pillows. A nightlight. Something to put on my walls. Strawberry scented body wash. Some goddamn authentic Mexican food.” 

Dr. Keller chuckles lightly. “I can agree with you on that last one.” She squeezes your arms gently. “You’re allowed to ask for things. You’re not a soldier, and even they are allowed to have things of their own, comfort items, with them. It doesn’t have to be material things either that you ask for. I’m sure your pack would find a way to bend over backwards if you asked them.” 

She’s right. The book says omegas can hold great power over the members of their packs if they try. A mix of playing their instincts and the right behavior and temperament can have betas and alphas wrapped around your finger. The idea of having such control over four powerful men makes your head spin. 

“I want Soap to kiss me.” You blurt out, your face warming as you hastily wipe at your tears to hide. 

“Oh?” Dr. Keller’s eyebrows raise as she looks at you. “This is a new development.” 

“We...we almost did...a couple days ago.” You say, burying your face in your hands. “But I stopped it because I thought maybe Price...but then he said he didn’t care...” 

Dr. Keller gently wraps her hands around your wrists, lowering your hands. “It’s okay to want that, and it’s okay to want to kneel for Price. I bet he’d be delighted if you asked him. I bet he was waiting because he didn't think you were ready for it yet.”  

The calming beta scent washes over you, Dr. Keller projecting it to try and help you calm down. Your tears have stopped, your breathing starting to slow as the gentle almond scent goes straight to your brain. 

“I’d like us to still meet for our regularly scheduled appointment this week, but I’m giving you an assignment to complete between then and now.” Dr. Keller says. “I want you to ask one of the members of your pack for one thing that you want. You can pick what it is, and who you ask, but I want to hear about it when I see you later this week, understood?” 

You push back the nerves twisting in your stomach. “Yes, ma’am.” 

“Good.” She pushes herself up to stand. “You can stay here as long as you want. Just let me know when you’re ready to go back to the barracks. Take your time. You are my only patient.” 

She grabs the paperwork off the couch before moving to her desk. You watch her for a moment before letting your eyes wander. You wipe at your face, your cheeks feeling puffy from your tears. You’re glad she’s giving you time to relax. The last thing you needed was to run into a member of your pack like this. 

That’s not a conversation you want to have right now. 

You take deep breaths, letting the beta scent permeating the air calm you down. You sink down further into the chair, letting it surround you. It’s soft, the cushions pressing around you like a hug. You wonder how she managed to get it in the hard, “function-above-all” world of the military. You wonder how she got most things in her office, or maybe if she’d brought them with her. 

It was likely Kate’s doing, you think. The office space was made for an omega, set up to be as comforting as possible. Though, you don't doubt Dr. Keller would have argued her case for having these things fearlessly if she had to. 

You stay in her office for a while, listening to the clacking of her keyboard as the soothing beta scent washes over you. Your eyes are still burning a bit as you force yourself out of the chair, out of the soft comfort you could spend days wrapped in. 

“I’m ready to go now.” You say quietly. 

“Okay.” Dr. Keller says, finishing what she was typing before she stands, grabbing her keys. 

She locks the office behind you before you leave the medical center, pulling up your hood to protect you from the drizzling rain. You’re growing used to the perpetually grey skies and sudden rainstorms. 

Dr. Keller squeezes your arm gently as you stop at the door to the barracks. “Remember what I told you. I’ll see you in a few days, alright?” 

You nod. “Thank you.” 

She smiles softly. “You did good today. I am proud of you.” 

You slip into the door of the barracks as she makes her way back to the medical center, your shoes squeaking on the tile floors. You head back to your room, the silence in the barracks telling you they’re not back yet. 

You kick off your shoes, pulling your damp sweatshirt off as you sit on the edge of your bed. You stare at your ruined sleeve, the seam split to the edge of the cuff now. You got the sweatshirt from one of your fellow omegas at the institute, and you’ve worn it almost every day since. It’s turned a bit raggedy, and your picking at it hasn’t helped any. 

Ask for one thing that you want. 

It would be easy to ask for a new sweatshirt. You’re sure if you asked Gaz, he’d give you the one right off his back. Everything you can think to ask for, they’d have to buy. If you asked Soap, he’d likely commandeer the closest vehicle and drive straight to town and buy you one in every color, even if he didn’t have permission to. 

You could ask for something that’s not material. 

Warmth floods your face as you think about it. How would you even ask? You can’t just ask directly. You could, but you might die of embarrassment if anyone heard you. There’s nothing to really be embarrassed about, but you can’t help it. It’s a bold thing to ask for, and you’re not sure you’re feeling quite so bold today. 

You chew on your lip as the barrack door opens, their voices echoing down the hallway as they return from their morning training. They pass by your door, their own doors opening and closing. You get up, moving to stand in front of your own door, holding your breath. You could just step out, knock on his door and ask. He’s probably changing, though. You’d never get the words out if he thought it was one of the others and opened it half dressed. 

You have to do it, though, before you lose your nerve. If you don’t do it now, you’ll never do it and you’ll have to tell Dr. Keller that you failed. You’re allowed to want things. It’s your nature to want things. It’s human nature to want things. There’s nothing wrong with having needs and wants. 

You can want this. 

You repeat it over and over as you slowly open your door, letting it close behind you. You smell the air, finding the trail of his scent. It disappears down the hall and around the corner towards the rec room. Your legs feel shaky as you follow it, your stomach twisting anxiously. You can want this. It’s okay to want this. 

You turn the corner, finding him coming out of the rec room. He grins at you, eyes sparkling. 

You want this. 

“Hey, lass, was just lookin’ for ye. Are ye ready for lunch-” 

His words cut off as you grab his face, standing on your toes to press your lips against his. He makes a surprised sound against your lips, his body tensing. It’s quick, only a couple seconds before you’re releasing him, taking a big step back. Your eyes are wide with shock, almost as wide as his. His lips are parted in surprise still, his shoulders tensed. 

“Sorry.” You blurt out, your nerves only heightened. What if he hadn’t wanted it? “Sorry, I just...I wanted to do it and I wanted you to do it that day, but I’ve never had a real kiss before and I thought maybe Price would want to...but then he said he didn’t care-” 

Your words cut off as he grips your chin, lifting your face so you’re looking at him. The tension has melted from his shoulders, the surprise gone from his face. His eyes are soft as they stare down at you, his thumb brushing your lower lip. 

“I didnae know it was yer first kiss.” He says softly. “I wouldnae pushed it so far if I did.” 

“It wasn’t technically my first kiss, I kissed another omega at the institute but I don’t really count it cause I did it for her.” You shrug. “I’ve regretted pulling away since that day and Dr. Keller said I should start learning to want things and she gave me the assignment of asking for one thing that I want before I see her again at the end of the week and I could have just asked for something simple but-” 

Your words are cut off as he leans down, pressing his lips to yours again. It’s soft and sweet, his hand sliding from your chin to the back of your head, holding you against him. Your fingers grip his shirt, and you lift yourself onto your toes to press back against him as his lips move against yours. 

His forehead presses against yours as he pulls away, your breaths mingling as you continue to hold each other. “Gaz will be upset he missed out.” He says quietly, lips tugging up in a smile as he squeezes your waist. 

“He can kiss me later.” You say, pressing a quick kiss to his lips once more before pulling away. “After lunch.” 

Soap chuckles quietly, slipping his hand into yours. “After lunch.” 

You hesitate outside the door, shifting nervously on your feet. You could turn around and go back to bed, pretend like you hadn’t spent an hour convincing yourself to walk down here, like you haven’t been thinking about this all afternoon. You had already completed your assignment for the week. You’d kissed Soap, done something you wanted. You’ve fulfilled that desire, and it didn’t kill you. You hadn’t dropped dead afterward. If the others noticed, they didn’t say anything. 

This isn’t a want. 

You knock softly on the door, half tempted to turn and run and hide under your covers until you inevitably have to get up tomorrow. 

“Come in.” 

Your hand hesitates on the door handle for just a moment before you’re turning it, stepping into the office. He doesn’t look surprised to see you, though you suppose if nothing else, he had smelled you standing outside. The thought makes your cheeks warm in embarrassment. How long has he known you were standing out there? 

“What can I do for you, sweetheart?” He asks, setting down his pen. 

You shuffle nervously, clasping your hands in front of you. “I-I was wondering...I..um...” You take a deep breath. “I was wondering if I could kneel for you.” 

You bite your lip as he stares at you, the words having come out fast, almost meshing into one long string of nonsense. His eyes darken just a bit, his scent thickening in the air. 

“You want to kneel for me, sweetheart?” He asks, his voice low and rough. 

You nod, shifting your weight again. “Yes, sir.” 

“Grab a pillow.” He nods to the couch. “I won’t have you hurting yourself.” 

You grab one of the pillows from the couch, wondering how often he’s slept in his office. How many nights he’s spent awake, pouring over files, his mind working too hard for him to find any rest. You set the pillow on the floor before kneeling down next to him, facing his desk. You shift until you’re comfortable, sitting back on your feet. You let out a long breath as your eyes slipped closed, your fingers twitching anxiously in your lap. 

Price’s hand is gentle as it comes to rest on the top of your head. You relax into his touch as he strokes your hair, working his way down towards your neck. You force your mind to relax, easing away the desire to tense your shoulders, to draw them up around your ears. It’s pure natural instinct, one that will fade the more you practice, the more you bond with him. The more you trust him. 

“Ready?” He asks, his voice sounding far away despite the fact you’re right next to him. 

“Yes, sir.” You murmur, pressing your head into his hand. 

His hand slips lower, curling around the back of your neck. You inhale sharply as he finally makes contact with the sensitive area. His hand is warm, the tension slowly easing from your body as he presses his thumb lightly into the side of your neck. The back of your brain begins to buzz, your mind slowly filling with static. You relax even further, your head bowing just slightly as you feel the weight of the last three months lifting off your shoulders. 

All the emotions, all the fear, all the unknowns suddenly feel far away. All the apprehension and the anxiety are soothed to nothing as he holds you, the hand on your neck a firm reminder that you’re not alone in this anymore. You have an alpha now, a strong alpha that you can trust in, that will carry it all for you. 

You don’t need to be stressed or afraid anymore. A warmth begins blossoming within you, spreading from your core out to your fingers and toes. You feel a bit dazed, but not in a bad way. You’re not afraid of the feeling, not with your alpha’s hand around the back of your neck keeping you safe. 

You’re not sure how much time passes, how long you kneel there. It could be five minutes, it could be two hours. Price continues to go over his paperwork, his other hand steady on the back of your neck. It’s not until he’s done that he carefully pushes his seat back, kneeling on the floor next to you. He releases your neck, catching your body as it slumps over, drawing you against his chest. 

“Easy, sweet girl.” He murmurs, pressing your face into his neck. 

You’re shaking a bit, brain still dazed and flying as you breathe in his scent. Earthy, trees, petrichor. The warm muskiness of a content alpha. You made him smell like that. You invoked that scent. 

“Feeling alright?” He murmurs into your hair, gently stroking your side as you begin to come back into your body. 

You hum in affirmation, wrapping your arms around his neck. You haven’t been this close to him yet, not since the scenting and that was more of a formal closeness, a required closeness. This is because you want it. 

“Don’t let me go.” You murmur into his neck, clinging to him tightly. 

His arms tighten around you for a moment before he slips them under you, lifting you into his arms easily. He pushes himself from the floor, moving to sit on the couch with you on his lap. You let yourself go lax in his hold again, feeling calmer and more relaxed than you have in months. You feel safe in his arms, not that he would have let anything happen to you before. 

You’ve always been safe, you think as you let your eyes drift closed again. 

The water is hot as it runs down his back, contrasting the cool tile against his forehead. His eyes are closed, breaths slow and steady through his nose. He can’t get that damn scent of vanilla and sweet, sweet omega arousal out of his head. He drives his fist into the wall with a growl, cursing the blood rushing south. 

He can’t forget the way you felt under him, pinned so easily and helpless beneath him. He hates the way his cock twitches at the thought of the pout on your lips as he’d swung at you, narrowly missing you too many times. The way you tried to jump him. 

He lets out another frustrated growl, slamming his forehead into the tile. A hand presses against his bare back and he turns on his heel, hand wrapping around Johnny’s throat, slamming him back against the shower wall. 

Jesus Christ, he’s going to kill the mutt one of these days. 

“Easy, Lt.” Johnny rasps, not fazed at all by the alpha’s actions. His eyes flicker lower, to the hard cock standing at attention. “Bit worked up, eh?” 

He lets Johnny go with a growl, stepping back under the water, turning it all the way to the right until it’s nearly freezing. He almost groans in frustration as the water shuts off completely, his eyes cracking open as Johnny’s hand trails up his chest. 

“Easy, big guy. Let me help ye.” 

Simon moves until his back is pressed against the tiles, eyes not leaving Johnny’s sapphire ones as the beta slowly kneels in front of him. Johnny’s hands trace over his hips, outlining scars both old and new. Johnny’s fingers finally reach his cock, wrapping around the thick length. Simon sighs in quiet relief as Johnny slowly pumps his length, their gazes still locked. 

Simon stares down at Johnny through his blonde lashes as Johnny leans forward, dragging his tongue along his head. A low growl rumbles through his chest as the beta circles his tongue around his head, smearing precum on his chin. He’s painfully hard now, breaking his gaze as his head tilts back, eyes fluttering closed. 

His fingers sink into Johnny’s mohawk as the beta takes his cock in his mouth. He breathes through his nose, relaxing his throat as Simon’s cock sinks deeper and deeper, Johnny’s hands closing around his hips to hold himself steady. Simon grips his hair tightly as he begins to move, bobbing his head along his length, his tongue pressing against the bottom of his cock. 

Simon squeezes his eyes closed as an image comes to mind, a smaller hand fondling his balls. His hand wraps around the base of his cock as he imagines soft lips on his tip, Johnny’s tongue tracing the parts of him that you can’t fit yet as you take him in your mouth. The sweet whines that would be pulled from you as he choked you on his thick length, Johnny whispering sweet encouragements to you. 

He can picture the two of you, you and Johnny with your tongues entwined, his cum stringing between your lips. 

He growls, yanking Johnny off his cock and pinning him to the tile wall. Johnny’s lips are parted as he breathes heavily, eyes blown with lust as he stares up at his alpha. Simon’s hand tugs at his hair, tilting his head back to bear his throat. Johnny lets out a quiet moan as he sinks his teeth into the delicate skin, leaving a mark he’ll wear proudly for a few days. 

“Turn around and bend over.” He growls to the beta, his cock still hard and throbbing. 

“Sir, yes sir.” Johnny says, smirking wickedly as he slowly turns to face the wall. 

Fucking christ, Simon groans. They’re going to be the death of him. 

You’re going to be the death of him. 

NEXT ->

Taglist, part 1:

@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx @protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @hanellokey @thatonepupkai @redwites @kattiieee @141trash @ghostlythots @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @thychuvaluswife @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @bisky-business @smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @cadotoast @linaangel @rancid-wasp @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows @puppyel @ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10 @cassiecasluciluce @darling006

[ozzgin]

Hii I was wondering if u could do a yandere Kazuya x yn x yandere Daitou I’m not sure if u do character x yn x character tho

Yandere! Yakuza x Reader Spinoff

Two yakuza men who have fallen in love with their new foreign tenant. A what-if spinoff to the original story for that love triangle spice. Happy Valentine's Day!

Content: female reader, NSFW, organized crime, obsessive behavior, violence, BDSM themes (choking), threats

Credits: My boyfriend for giving me the Daitou smut idea

[Main Story] | [General Headcanons]

Kazuya is sitting on the sidewalk, checking his watch occasionally and tapping his foot. The cigarette seems to have been forgotten, hanging lowly from his lips.

"Sorry I'm late." Daitou speedily makes his way towards his friend, smiling awkwardly.

"Where the fuck were you, man? We don't know how much time we have before the cops arrive."

"Uh uh, leave it to me." The cheeky grin doesn't leave his face as he pulls out his gun and carefully but swiftly inspects the barrel and safety one final time. "(Y/N) needed some help with the mailbox. I couldn't just say no, ya know?"

The blonde man's eyebrows raise for a second, but he quickly recollects himself.

"I see. That's good."

"She asked me to show her the area tomorrow, so I'll be working extra hard tonight. Hehe."

"That's good."

Daitou glances at Kazuya, somewhat wary.

"You okay?"

Stupid question. What's he supposed to answer? Yeah, he loves waiting like a dumbass while his friend flirts with the new tenant, who conveniently happens to be a cute foreigner, who's been unexpectedly nice and relaxed around them despite them explicitly stating they're part of the Japanese mafia. Fucking hell. It doesn't help that this idiot is as obvious as a blaring, blinding cluster of ads smack in the middle of Kabukicho. He can tell from miles away that Daitou's completely fallen for her. Just like that, in an instant.

They've been partners and best friends for years now, so the natural reaction would be happiness, right? Daitou has always been one scary motherfucker. Even the seniors scramble when he's in the room, let alone women. For him to find someone that isn't bothered the slightest by his appearance or background should be a celebratory occasion. Kazuya should be rooting for him. Except, well, he fell for you just as hard. Tough luck.

The Bushido moral code, often used as guidance within their own lifestyle, covers matters such as loyalty and honesty quite extensively. A true warrior remains fiercely faithful to his master or companions. And yet, love interests are more of a grey area, especially if they happen to overlap. Who dictates the proper etiquette for this dilemma? To whom is loyalty directed towards? Truth be told, Kazuya couldn’t care less. He’s always been a man of vice, impulsive and greedy. If he wants something, he takes it.

The trouble starts when the other person is of the same mindset. Two ferocious predators eyeing the same victim.

***

You fiddle next to the tall, dark-haired man. Similarly, Daitou is avoiding eye contact, looking around in hopes of finding something to focus on. It’s the first time he’s come over since the incident. After his little mission with Kazuya, he was tasked to “interrogate” some of the remaining members to get even more names for the hitlist. He’d completely forgotten about his promise to show you the neighborhood. Hands sticky with blood, he was in the middle of his signature act of benevolence, putting the lad out of his misery.

It was around that time you decided to be the one picking him up instead, for your grand tour. Your knocks on the door remained unheard, however, so you decided to politely make your way in.

“Sorry, I hope I’m not-”

You froze in place. A man (you assumed at least based on the few visible traits left), tied up on the chair, canvas bag roped around his head. Daitou’s hands were secured around his throat. In the few seconds of silence, you could hear a muffled wheezing, as the stranger’s chest heaved in short convulsions.

“-intruding.” You mumbled, regaining your speech.

He messed up, didn’t he? Daitou sighs and slicks his hair back. He can’t blame you if you’re now terrified of him. He had to come over for some tenant checkups and you’ve been maintaining a safe distance from him during his entire visit. What can he possibly tell you? “Hey, I know I threatened to chop you up and you’ve now witnessed firsthand I’m a legit murderer, but, uh…I have a crush on you? Dinner at seven?”

You’re terrified alright, but not of his deeds. Rather, your newly discovered perversion as a consequence of the gory scene. It’s not that you relished in the torment of another. It’s the other details that left you reminiscing. Daitou’s imposing frame, the unbuttoned shirt revealing his traditional tattoos glistening in beads of sweat, his flexed, brawny arms, and large hands. You’re scared of your shamelessness. It can’t be normal. Yet you can’t stop thinking about it. Just a glimpse into this memory and your cheeks become burning red.

“I’ll be on my way then”, the yakuza announces politely.

Though he immediately stops in his tracks, and you realize you’ve unconsciously grabbed onto his sleeve. Uh oh. What now? You mumble an apology without releasing your hold. Being this close to him makes your heart drum inside your chest.

To hell with it.

“I might say something terribly inappropriate right now, but…”

“Sorry?” He stares at you, dumbfounded.

“Do you have anything planned after this?” You ask quietly.

“N-no?”

“Would you mind staying over?”

“Huh? Sure…w-what for?” His mouth is dry, and he searches your eyes in confusion.

“You know…” Choke me until I pass out and such, you think to yourself sarcastically.

He turns to face you, lips pursed awkwardly.

“You’ll have to be clear with me, Miss (Y/N). I’m not good with all this tiptoeing around and I might get the wrong idea.”

Your ears perk up hearing his final words, a deep blush now spreading over your flustered features.

“What wrong idea?”

Daitou fidgets with his glass prosthetic nervously.

“Well, uh, a man can only dream, ya know? Especially around a cute girl like you.” He reveals with a stutter.

“Suppose I’d be willing to go along with anything on your mind. What then?” You twirl your hair, gazing shyly at the floor. Not even you can believe the audacity leaving your lips.

The tall man steps before you, towering above with a certain gleam in his eye. It’s yearning. Your knees weaken.

“Don’t tease me, please. I can hardly control myself around you as it is.”

You release his sleeve and instead cling onto his shirt with both hands, looking up through your lashes.

“I’m dead serious.”

He ponders his next move with a click of the tongue, then cups your cheeks between his hands and lowers himself until his hot breath tickles your nose.

“Are you? There’s no going back after this. Can you handle it?” His voice is suddenly deeper, raspier.

Before you can respond, you feel yourself lifted and you yelp, surprised, instinctively wrapping your limbs around the yakuza. In between the greedy kisses that leave your lips bruised and swollen, you don’t notice the movement back towards the seating area.

As you pull away to gasp for air, he throws you onto the couch, flipping you over in the process so that you’re kneeling away from him. Your nails dig into the soft fabric of the sofa. You hear Daitou unbuckle his belt and you squeeze your legs together, heavily aroused. He presses his palm gently into your back, arching it. You sense his fingers grazing over your core and you whimper.

“G-go on, please.” You beg, swaying your hips tentatively. “I really can’t wait anymore.”

“As you wish, Miss.” He reassures you with a grin.

He adjusts himself and carefully makes his way in. You don’t have time to enjoy the feeling; following almost instantly is his belt looped around your neck, tightening under his grip as he pulls the ends towards him. Your head is forced back, and you groan. You can hear the leather stretch and creak over your assaulted skin, the constriction briefly cutting your oxygen intake. Hot drool trickles down your chin and your eyes almost roll back in pleasure.

“Look at my little Miss (Y/N), taking it like a champion.” He bends over and bites your earlobe playfully. “Does that mean I can be as rough as I want?”

You nod erratically.

The grip around your throat intensifies and your vision becomes blurry.

“Hey, don’t pass out now.” He inserts two fingers in your mouth, pulling you by the cheek and tilting your head to look him in the eye. “Not before you show me that you understand your situation. You’re mine. Is that clear?”

He drags his fingers downwards, aiding your response as you struggle to contract your muscles.

“Attagirl.” He concludes, satisfied.

In the morning you wake up with a dreadful soreness, and you can quickly see why. Your body is peppered in bruises. Daitou is smoking by the window and promptly flicks his cigarette out once he realizes you’re no longer asleep.

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” He begins, remorseful, and squats in front of the bed. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

“I will need a day or two to recover before the next time, but otherwise I’m fine.”

He beams with delight upon registering your words: next time. You can’t help but snicker at his childish enthusiasm. It’s a mystery how Daitou can switch between ruthless killer and cute partner with such ease.

Although it’s no secret, really. It’s you.

***

“Thanks for driving me home, Kazuya.”

You smile and unbuckle your seatbelt, reaching for the door handle. Daitou has been busy with work for the past days, so Kazuya took his place in looking after your needs.

“Huh?” You rattle the grab handle one more time to make sure. “It’s still locked.”

The blonde raps the wheel impatiently with his fingers. Is he to silently accept his loss? Does it even count as a loss when he hasn’t even had the chance to present his piece? Daitou has been quiet about it, but he can read that bastard like an open book. Something definitely happened between the two of you and the mere thought drives him insane.

Ah, this is so unlike him. There are few things he cares about. His pride, his Family’s honor, his freedom. Women aren’t exactly on that list, yet somehow, you’ve snuck your way to the very top of priorities and he’s realizing it just now. It’s becoming harder to ignore his maddening urge to have you. Out of all the things…He’d give Daitou the world. But not you. He can’t. He can’t.

“Kazuya? Are you listening? You forgot to unlock the door.”

“Say, (Y/N) …ever fucked in a car before?”

“What?” You ask, baffled.

“Come here for a moment.” He swiftly slides his seat all the way back and pats his thigh.

“Are you out of your mind?”

He answers your inquiry by pulling out his handgun and lazily pointing it towards you.

“I’m only going to ask once.”

You clumsily climb over the center console, straddling the yakuza with a slight pout.

“Someone’s in a sour mood, that’s for sure”, you complain. “It’s not even loaded.”

“Even I’m not crazy enough to risk shooting my Princess.” He smiles apologetically, throwing the gun on the backseat. “I thought it’d be more threatening that way.”

He removes a strand of hair from your face, gazing at you intently. His hand lingers for a second, before sliding its way down, tracing the side of your body. You shiver.

“Can you truly blame me when there’s such a pretty girl right before my eyes?” The blonde exhales and focuses on your shirt instead. “Won’t you let me prove myself?”

From this distance, despite the dim lights, you can discern his features in agonizing detail. His long lashes, his fleshy lips, currently parted, the luscious locks of hair casually thrown back. Kazuya has always been effortlessly handsome. It’s not just his good looks, but his overflowing charisma. He always knows exactly what to say and do. A devilish power to have over people, and you’re presently his victim.

His slender fingers play with your first button and cheekily undo it. You can only observe it, entranced. Your legs are weak, and your arms are stuck in place, resting limply over his broad shoulders.

“May I?” He glances up at you with a pleading expression. “I won’t be able to hold back afterwards.”

You bite your lower lip, distracted. Whether or not this is a wise choice, you can’t currently tell. You squirm in his lap and suddenly feel the pressure coming from below.

“Go ahead.” You finally confess.

He doesn’t hesitate and slithers his hand underneath your shirt, popping the rest of the buttons open. Like a hungry animal that has stumbled upon a feast, he sinks his teeth into your neck, leaving mean, wet kisses on his way down.

One hand is greedily kneading your curves, encouraged by your soft whimpers, while the other strokes your thigh in anticipation. With a bit of readjustment, he finds the right spot between your trembling legs. You jolt at the sensation of his cold fingers.

“My, you’re already dripping. How lewd.” He whispers between breaths. “Do you want it now?”

He nonchalantly slips out and undoes his own pants. You lift yourself expectantly and let a moan escape your lips upon feeling the erection throbbing right below.

“Well then, can’t forget our manners, can we?” He announces, visibly excited. “What should I do?”

You glare at him, feverish.

“Stop teasing me.”

“Come on, be a good girl. Tell me what to do and I will do it, Love.”

Why, this…You lower yourself to his ear and answer in a lulled whine.

“Isn’t it obvious? I want you to fuck me.”

Words enough to send the blonde man over the edge. He abruptly clutches your thighs for support, easing himself in before continuing with increasingly aggressive thrusts. Husky whimpers roll out of his mouth, desperate and starved.

“Oh, I’ve waited so long for this. My darling, perfect little (Y/N).” He presses his forehead into your chest, indulging in the moment. “Now say that you’re mine. Please. Please say it.”

“I’m…ah…I’m all yours, Kazuya.” You manage to blurt out, growing dizzy.

“That’s my girl. Such a good girl.”

Once the deed is finished, you flop your head over his chest, trying to catch your breath. Kazuya smoothens your clothes meticulously, holding you with one arm for support. Can’t leave a lady all disheveled, after all.

“Won’t Daitou be upset?” You point out, somewhat anxiously.

His muscles are tense for a second and he furrows his brows.

“That’s one strange way to thank me for making you come at least twice. Mentioning another man’s name.”

“I’m just…” your words trail off.

“What? Worried? You think I can’t handle it or something?”

Far from the truth. Both Kazuya and Daitou are violent, dangerous men. Given their stubbornness, you’re rather certain they’d end up killing each other. Not your favorite outcome.

“I don’t want either of you to get hurt.”

He sighs loudly.

“I’ll tell you what. Under normal circumstances, I’d probably dismember whoever had the guts to even entertain the idea of meddling with you. But…just because it’s Daitou, I might be willing to share. Nothing more than that.”

Kazuya ruffles your hair and chuckles.

“Aren’t you glad I’m such a diplomat, Love?”

“More like batshit crazy, both of you.” You retort, stretching.

[theemporium]

Just a thought but Sirius or someone having a thing for you for ages and at some point you finally get together but Remus James and Peter just don’t believe it because you’re so opposite and Sirius just trying to convince them but they don’t believe him until they walk into you kissing or something. Love your work btw <3

kinda changed it to sirius being with someone they never expected but i hope you enjoy it! and thank you!!🖤

.

“Pads is dating her?!”

Remus and James stood in front of Peter, lips parted in shock at the rumour that just left their friend’s lips. They had been in the common room, respective textbooks sprawled around them when Peter came rushing in, eyes wide and cheeks flushed at what he had just seen.

At first, they thought their friend was taking the piss and waited for Sirius to jump out from the shadows with a grin on his face, claiming it was all a prank. But no Sirius had appeared and Peter kept talking and—fuck, they just couldn’t quite believe it.

In all honesty, it was shocking enough that Sirius had settled down with one person, let alone that he was dating you of all people. 

You stood for everything they assumed their friend hated, purely because you would’ve been Walburgha Black’s number one choice to marry her eldest son off with. 

You were raised with the pureblood etiquette, speaking prim and proper and not even allowing yourself to use slang as you spoke. You were a Slytherin, and proud to be so. You were crazy smart and you were the image of pureblood royalty, though the cold shoulder you usually gave people and the snarky attitude didn’t exactly make it easy for even those with a pureblood complex to approach you. 

Even if for some bizarre reason their friend had fallen for you, the fact that you liked him back was shocking enough to keep both boys seated on the couch as Peter retold the story for the thirteenth time. 

“I’m calling bullshit,” James said with a shake of his head. “This must be some elaborate prank he’s pulled off.”

“And what? Got her involved?” Remus asked. 

“Maybe it’s someone with a polyjuice potion,” Peter supplied. 

“Or maybe Pads is actually dating her,” Remus said before his nose scrunched up. “Yeah no, he’s definitely up to something.” 

It took less than five seconds to work out where Sirius was with the help of the map that was quickly shoved in their pocket as all three boys began rushing towards the courtyard, so sure that whatever Peter had seen had to be false. 

Because there was no fucking way that Sirius Black was—

All three boys quickly drew to a stop when they noticed you both. You were sitting on a picnic blanket, leaning back on your hands as you nodded along to something. Sirius, however, had his head propped on your lap, talking away as his hands moved animatedly to the point they could have sworn they saw your lips twitch into a smile. 

“Holy shit,” James gaped at the sight. 

“It could still be a prank,” Remus said, though he didn’t know how much he really believed that himself. 

And just when they thought they couldn’t be shocked any further, you leaned down to press your lips against the wizard, his hand coming to grip the back of your neck as he deepened the kiss. 

“Moony, are you seeing this?” 

“I’m seeing this, Prongs.” 

“Right, great because I think I’m gonna faint.” 

What they couldn’t see was the way Sirius’s lips twisted into a grin as he continued to kiss you, his fingers expertly pulling the clip out of your hair until it cascaded around you both. 

“Your friends are still staring,” you informed him, the words whispered against his lips as you began to pull back but he was quick to chase you. 

“Let them stare all they want, love,” he murmured as his thumb lightly brushed over your thumping pulse. “I bet they are fucking confused.” 

“Such crass language,” you hummed. 

Sirius smirked. “Gonna punish me, love?” 

You shook your head in amusement, pulling back fully despite the way Sirius playfully pouted in response. “You wouldn’t be able to handle my punishments, Black.” 

His eyes gleamed at the challenge. “Is that so?” 

“You are all bark and no bite,” you informed him and the boy was quick to scramble up, his hands darting to your sides as he crawled over your squirming body. 

“I can show you just how hard I bite, love, you just gotta ask.”

.

[mythicmanuscripts]

(I’m not sure if this counts as poor bdsm etiquette but if it does tell me so I can try and make it better)

Literally just thought about it but the brothel ladies using aegon as a sort of way to get their anger out as they cant do it on their other clients. Practically abusing him and degrading him so badly but he takes it cause they praise him after and he thinks it’s the only love he deserves. It’s sort of talked about in the brothels that if you need a way to release your anger aegons the one to do it on.

But then he meets his love and it all turns around and he realises how bad that treatment was and how much he deserves to be pampered like the pretty prince he is and be

Oh my god I love this!! So while this is absolutely what I had meant by bad BDSM etiquette, I realise I was a little too vague about it in the rules. I am more than happy to write anything in to do with characters having experienced bad BDSM etiquette in the past with someone else. What I won’t write it the reader having bad BDSM etiquette because don’t want that stop of thing promoted. As you all know, I have a weakness for angst and anything to do with bad relationships in the past really makes for some of the best angst. Apologies for the confusion there! I’ll update the rules to be clearer about it after I finish this.

Anyway, there is angsty sub!aegon below the cut but fear not, it ends happy :))

So there are two scenarios that I think this would work with. The first is just that Aegon went to the brothels until he let you and was shown how he deserves to be treated. The second is when you’re already married to Aegon and you two fell into something akin to a dom/sub relationship and Aegon craves full submission so badly but he bring himself to ask you about this because he’s so scared you’ll reject him and so instead he goes to brothels where they mistreat him and then you find out when he came to your quarters in. This ask seems to be hinting more towards the first one so that’s while be discussing here, but I’m happy to share some thoughts about the second idea and to hear your own thoughts about it so let me know!!

Anyway, on to this specific idea.

Firstly, as we all know Aegon is a bit of a slut, but only because he so desperately wants to please and be told he’s good. He enjoys the sex, sure, but there’s plenty to aspects of it that he doesn’t enjoy but he does even anyway because it means he’s doing something that someone actually likes, even if that someone is just a brothel worker he’s paid.

I think that Aegon would have originally gone to the brothel workers for affection and care and love but well… he can be a little pathetic. He can be very whiney and teary eyed and very very needy, just a weeping pathetic little thing who needs someone to care for him.

But when this side of him comes out with the brothel workers, they call him pathetic and laugh at him, because they’re not used to this kind of thing. Aegon freezes, but then the workers seem to enjoy humiliating him? So he just lets them, and he lets them push it further and further and further until eventually he’s gained the reputation of someone all the sex workers can abuse.

When it’s over, he always just crawls to them and tugs at their clothes, trying desperately to be allowed into their arms. Some of them let him, most of them don’t. But they do all say he did well, some even stroke his hair or wipe away his tears.

That’s what he comes for. That’s what he pays for, just that moment of praise.

Of course he always feels horrific when they leave, because no one ever gives him the proper aftercare he needs. Well actually, he doesn’t even know what’s what he needs. He just knows that even though he loves the praise and love, he feels awful once they leave?

Secretly he wishes they’d stay and help him recover. He wishes they’d wash his hair and kiss his forehead and let him cuddle into their arms, maybe even give him a soft hand job. But he never asks for that, because he’s too scared to see the rejection and disgust on their faces.

When he marries you, he doesn’t tell you about what he does at the brothels. He knows you know he goes to the brothels, but he’d never tell you what actually happens there because he’s so sure you’d refuse to give him an heir entirely.

I think maybe you’d start to see his submissive side when you try to be nice to him? He quite literally bursts into tears the first time you bring him a cup of warm milk for the kitchen the night after he told you he’d been having in trouble sleeping. And not small tears either, he’s literally sobbing into his cup of milk.

He starts to spend more and more time with you, because he realises how much he loves just talking to you? You make him feel all warm and safe and sometimes even loved, so he’s always following you and listening to your every word.

The first time you initiate sex, the first time it’s proper sex and not just trying for an heir, he basically melts into you? He’s just so pliant, and he’s so so so happy when you immediately start to lead him and direct him rather than trying to make him get back in control.

You weren’t planning on going as gently as you did, but then when he was laid out before you, you knew that gentleness was what was required. Cause he’s just… so open? He’s laying on his back, breathing hard and whining every time you touch him his crotch. He’s letting you play with him without even a word of protest, and so you promise yourself that you’ll keep him safe.

You ride him and you hold him when he cums and when Aegon realises you aren’t leaving immediately, it makes him cry again. You wipe his tears and kiss his head and tell him he was so good.

He goes stiff then and looks up at you, all teary eyed and confused.

“Good?” He asks, his voice so so soft, “but I…you didn’t hit me?”

You try to ask what he means by that but he’s far too out of it, so instead you end up just shushing him and cuddling him until he calms.

Once you start giving Aegon the pillow princess treatment, you can’t stop. He is just perfect for it. When he realises that you’ll never hurt him, he’s practically always free use for you. He gives over his entire body because he knows you’ll make him feel good.

Needless to say, he stops going to brothels.

[myfandomrealitea]

hi! just asking your opinion on RPF, i’m very very new to the proship/fanfic community and really don’t know how to feel abt it. i haven’t heard anyone’s takes on it so far so i’d love to hear your thoughts!

RPF is just another form of fiction. Its no different to any kind of other fictional literature, fandom space, creative action, ect. The people are, essentially, just characters. You're using them to tell a story.

A lot of people's issue with RPF comes into play because of individuals who ignore the proper etiquette behind RPF and ruin it for everyone. The general concern is that unlike fictional characters, real people are capable of seeing what you create and getting upset, offended or angry over it.

This is where its important to remember the following rules regarding RPF:

Never send RPF to the people whom it concerns, people close to them or people in reasonable contact with them. Personally, even if an actor has said they don't mind RPF about themselves, I wouldn't push it on them. Accepting something's existence isn't always the same as wanting to be invested or involved in it.

Similar to above, make sure you're not tagging them or using searches the person is known to frequent. (E.g; if you're posting ship art, don't tag the people involved.)

Where possible, keep RPF to closed-off websites like AO3 and Tumblr where the people involved would actually have to go looking for it in order to be exposed to it. (Sites like X are next to impossible to actually curate and monitor and are awful for this kind of thing.)

Ensure you are properly tagging and marking your content so in the instance it can't fully be prevented from reaching the person/people, they are explicitly aware of what it is. (Another reason why sites like Tumblr and AO3 are simply the best option.)

Anyone who is famous will be aware that there are people who view them and use their image sexually. Every single famous person knows this. In industries like kpop, even, bromances are actively marketed because they know its lucrative and sought after.

Famous people are also more than aware of how to avoid content they don't want to see. They're aware of sites like AO3 and know once they go there its a lawless (albeit well tagged) wasteland of hardcore smut and the unimaginable. They know if they don't want to see certain things they simply have to stay away from certain platforms, tags, key words, ect.

Famous people aren't helpless little ducklings accidentally stumbling upon twisted non-con fanfic of them and their colleagues on an hourly basis like some people assume.

Although RPF is just another form of fiction is does require a bit more respect, conduct and consideration. That's all.

[synamartia]

I promise I haven't forgotten about this! Things have been a bit hectic in my personal life, and it feels like the hits just keep coming. But as a sign of good faith, I'll leave you all with another little snippet! Hopefully, it'll be the last one before I release the full story. On another note, as much as I LOVE the title Smutmus, I don't think that it's a fitting title anymore with the direction the story is taking - it's becoming a fully fledged fic with plot (which is one of the biggest reasons it's release has been delayed). So I will be renaming it in the future; just not sure what, yet. If you have any ideas, I would love to hear them! 🥰

Content Warnings: Again, none really. Afab!Reader ; No pronouns used ; Suggestive situations ; Nudity ; More light banter. If there's a warning anyone feels should be listed, please let me know!

Divider © cafekitsune

“Alastor, is that a tail?” you blurted out without thinking, immediately slapping both of your hands over your mouth right after. “Oh- that,” he said nonchalantly, moving to stand between your legs once more. Your body tensed as you awaited his reaction, so sure that you had just earned yourself a good scolding for such an impolite question. You hadn’t meant to be so bold or outright, but you’ve come to find that your body and your brain hadn’t been on the same page since the moment all of this began. “Yes, it’s a tail,” Alastor responded and turned slightly, swishing the puff of fur side to side a couple of times to amuse you before turning back. “I’m sorry, that was rude- …!?” you tried to apologize, but a surprised squeal interrupted your speech when his sharpened claws sunk into your posterior and he hoisted you up off the desk, your legs wrapping around his waist in the process.

“It’s alright, darling,” Alastor reassured you, spinning around and taking a few long strides to the rarely used bed. “While I’m not particularly fond of it, my tail isn’t something that I’ve ever gone out of my way to hide,” he explained, dropping you onto the mattress and climbing on top of you soon after, nestling himself in between your legs as you breathed a sigh of relief - albeit a short-lived one. He leaned down to whisper in your ear, causing your body to tense right back up with each word that left his mouth. “Although, you are correct - it was rude to ask such a thing,” he clicked his tongue in mock disapproval, his pointed teeth nipping at the shell of your ear then tugging on the lobe. “Perhaps I should give you a lesson in proper etiquette, hm?” Alastor mused, rolling his bare hips against yours and sending a shiver down your spine, not missing the flash of panic in your eyes when his words finally registered in your brain. 

‘Shit. Shit, shit, shit- fucking hell, fuck my life!’ you thought, trying to reel yourself back in and failing miserably. If this ‘lesson’ of his was anything like the punishment he had doled out earlier, you knew you were in for a rough night - one that would leave you physically incapable of walking out of his room come morning. “No- …! Al, no, no… i-it was just a slip of the tongue, I swear!” your pleas fell on deaf ears, his lips ghosting over the carotid artery in your neck, then over your collar bone and traveling further down to your breasts. “I’m sorry, please- …!” you spoke, only to be interrupted by Alastor’s stern gaze, looking up at you while he placed butterfly kisses to your chest and his teeth grazed your erect nipple. “I know you are, dear,” Alastor started, kissing further down to your navel, not breaking eye contact for even a millisecond. “But if ‘sorry’ fixed everything, there would be no hell, no demons, and we certainly would not be in this hotel,” he smiled wickedly, knowing that you couldn’t argue with the point he had just made - your silence proved as much.

Alastor continued to move south, soon reaching the delicious mound between your thighs which he had not known could be so fun, so intoxicating. But, as much as he wanted to devour you and everything you had to offer him, he was on a self-imposed mission now and couldn’t let himself get distracted. Heated breath fanning over your soaked core, Alastor lightly kissed and nipped at the insides of your thighs, past your knees and down your calves - stopping momentarily for a taste of your blood that was still seeping from your self-inflicted wound. He groaned as his tongue was coated in the coppery flavor of his new favorite thing, one hand wrapping around your ankle, his deft digits unclasping the strap of your heel and pulling it off, repeating the process with the other one and discarding both seconds later. 

Sighing softly, you wiggled your freed toes while Alastor began to kiss his way back up to your face. “W-well then… what would this lesson entail?” you asked nervously, resigning yourself over to your fate. Alastor chuckled darkly at your question, not bothering to answer you as he pressed his lips against yours harshly and pinched one of your pert nipples. “Mmph-phh!” you whined, your body flinching at the pain his digits were causing as he twisted the sensitive flesh between his thumb and forefinger. Alastor pulled back, his teeth dragging your bottom lip with him as far as it would go, releasing it and your nipple a few seconds later.

"On your knees."

[bucketsofmonsters]

I was wondering, in Proper Etiquette (my favourite of your writings) Reader is wearing dresses and corsets all the time (which is Wonderful and corsets are Not Evil Actually they're literally a bra that supports the weight of heavy layers of skirts BUT I DIGRESS) but how would Rygel react to his wife, feeling a little cold as fall comes along, asks to have a sweater like he's wearing and some warm pants or a wool skirt and petticoat to wear with the sweater, rather than her usual fine clothes that clearly aren't built for the weather in her new home

You’re so real for the corset thing, I will defend corsets until the day I die. Also sorry this took me forever

Rygel ran hot. You were well aware of that fact by now. Every time you pressed up against him he radiated heat, more than any person you’d ever been near, although to be fair you didn’t have much of a frame of reference. 

What had taken a bit longer was realizing they all did. 

When you’d first arrived it had been summer, a little colder than the summers you were accustomed to, but nothing too severe. 

But then winter had come, and with it, something unfamiliar to you. With it came the snow. 

It was a perfect coincidence for them because while they seemed largely comfortable in the cold of your new home, you were not. You were instead accustomed to a little rain in the winter, maybe some cold winds, but nothing an extra layer or two couldn’t combat. 

This was far from that. At first, the snow had been delightful. You’d only ever heard stories and caught glimpses of it on the peaks of faraway mountains, but here it was all around you. 

As the novelty faded, it became a bit more of a problem. 

You tried what you’d always done, adding layers and bundling up, but you just didn’t have enough. Nothing you had was built for this kind of cold and it wasn’t like you could borrow clothes from someone, you’d drown in the sheer amount of fabric.

So instead you stood, bundled under layers that were helpless against the biting cold. You’d barely been outside for a few minutes before you’d rushed back into the warmth of your room but the cold had settled in your bones and couldn’t be snuffed out so easily. 

Your jaw was clenched to stop your teeth from chattering, your whole body wound tight, trying to preserve what little heat you had. 

“I’m not built for this,” you said with a huff as you collapsed backward onto your bed, wrapping yourself in blankets. 

Rygel huffed out a laugh from his desk, his attention still focused on whatever he was reading. “Not built for what?”

“Winter. Not here at least. I think I might go into hibernation.”

He froze, eyes widening before he turned to you. “Oh my god, you’re cold. Of course you are, I should’ve prepared for this.”

You cut him off. “No, I’m fine, really. I’ve been keeping inside as much as I can, the layers have been helping, it’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

He did not seem convinced. “We don’t have any clothes that’ll fit you. Hell, we don’t have warm enough clothes anyway. Shit. You should’ve told me.” His words were dripping with concern as the full implications of his mistake hit him. 

“Rygel,” you said, trying to cut through the worry and reassure him. “I’m fine, really, it’s not a big deal. I can stay inside for a season, god knows there’s more than enough fires and blankets in this place to keep me warm.”

“I should have realized. I forget how fragile your kind are, I should have seen this coming, gotten you some real clothes. As much as I love those dresses, we have to get you in some furs. ”

 “We are not fragile, you are just all far too sturdy. And besides, I like my dresses.”

“Mmhmm,” he hummed dismissively with a smile. “Sure we are. I really should have been more careful with you though. Your safety is more important than anything. I will keep you warm if it’s the last thing I do, even if we do have to cover up those pretty little dresses. Now, how will I ever manage to keep you warm until we can get you some better-suited clothes?”

You climbed onto his lap, ducking underneath his shirt, and pressed up close to him, absorbing his heat as you felt a chuckle run through his chest. “Maybe I shouldn’t get you warm clothes,” he said as a steady arm wrapped around you. “I think I prefer this.”

You hummed in agreement. “Plus it’s very dignified.”

His hand scooped under you, lifting you while keeping you close to him. “Very.”

You happily nuzzled further into his chest and he returned to his work, his arm still firmly wrapped around you. You were sure he’d find something for you, get you warmer clothes and make sure you were safe and warm and happy. His concern more than convinced you of that. 

And when all else failed, at least your husband ran hot.

[moraxsthrone]

Hello! I'm not sure if requests are open, so ignore if they aren't.

Could I request Hu Tao finding out that Zhongli is married after meeting a lovely lady (reader) who asks to speak with him?

hi hi! yes, i'm taking requests and SLND;LNOMG THIS IS SO CUTE 🥹 PLEASE i would wife the geo daddy down so hard. 😩😤 my blog is still new so this is the first ask i've gotten PLUS i just hit 200 followers, making this a v special 2-for-1 milestone deal for me sskkssssskkssk! thank you for brightening my day and for entrusting me with your idea, my dear. 💗 there’s quite a bit of crack bc that’s just where my brain went with this…i hope that’s okay. 👉🏼👈🏼

✧˖° pairing — husband!zhongli x f!wife!reader

✧˖° wc — 1k

✧˖° notes — sfw with a teensy little suggestive moment. crack. fluff. slight pda.

you enter the funeral home, allowing the door to close behind you with a soft click.

“oh hi! welcome to wangsheng funeral parlor! i’m hu tao, may i help you?”

you smile warmly. you’d heard your husband groan a lot about her. but he’d always given her the benefit of being nice and eager to please. “yes, i’m here to see zhongli, please,” you reply.

“oh, our consultant! ah, actually, i’m the director here and if you’re interested in planning for your special day, i’d be happy to help you with that! we have several attractive packages to choose from. in fact, if you prepay for your final arrangements today, i’ll give you a 20% discount!”

“umm…no, thank you. i just came by to bring him this,” you say, brandishing his dark brown leather wallet.

“aha, his wallet?!” she extended her palm, “i’ll make sure it’s returned to him! i’m certain mr. zhongli will be most grateful!”

“actually, i was hoping to see him…is he busy?”

“ahh, give me a moment. i’ll go check,” she says suspiciously.

as tao makes her way back to zhongli’s office, she wonders what else you could possibly be here to speak to him about if not funeral services. ah, yes! perhaps you want to request a reward for the ‘lost-and-found’ item! as often as he forgets his wallet, it’s about time he pay up for having it returned to him, if he even has any mora in it. “unlikely”, she scoffs to herself.

zhongli chokes on his tea and nearly jumps out of his skin at the loud, abrupt intrusion when the director bursts through the heavy, dark oak door. but before he can remind her, once again, to please knock before entering his office, she’s already speaking.

“mr. zhongli, there’s a lady here to see you! she claims to have your wallet?”

his amber eyes go wide as he pats his chest before opening the left side of his waistcoat and reaching inside the empty pocket. “ah, again?” he mumbles, standing from his desk to make his way towards the front of the house as tao follows.

his expression softens the moment he lays eyes on you. “oh, hello darling.” he smiles warmly, closing the distance between you just as naturally as it is for him to breathe. “thank you so much for delivering my wallet. i’m so sorry to have troubled you,” he frets before leaning down to kiss your cheek. 

you return his affectionate smile and hold his elbows as his fingers squeeze your shoulders lovingly. “think nothing of it, dea–”

“MR. ZHONGLI, WHAT’S GOTTEN INTO YOU??!! THAT IS ENTIRELY INAPPROPRIATE!! YOU CAN’T JUST WALK UP TO A LADY AND KISS HER LIKE THAT!! THERE’S THANKING A LADY, AND THEN THERE’S THANKING A LADY!! JEEZ…HANDSY MUCH??” 

torn from your loving exchange, you and your husband turn to look quizzically at the ashen director as her rant continues.

“DO YOU EVEN KNOW HER NAME??”

“ah, right,” zhongli says, straightening up. “hu tao, this is my wife, y/n…”

the girl's eyes nearly pop out of their sockets…

“y/n, i understand you made hu tao’s acquaintance upon your arrival?” he goes on, oblivious to his boss’s shock in favor of displaying proper social etiquette.

hu tao blinks twice before doubling over with laughter. “wife! th-that’s so funny, mr. zhongli! you had me going for a second there!”

clearing her throat, she does her best to straighten up. “ma’am, on behalf of wangsheng funeral parlor, i sincerely apologize for my employee’s untowardness. you’ll have to excuse his bizarre sense of humor. i honestly don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

you chuckle. “while it’s true that zhongli has a rather…unique…sense of humor, he is indeed my husband.”

tao’s smile drops and her eyes narrow. “prove it.”

you think for a moment then lift your left hand to enter the fact that you’re wearing a wedding band into evidence. but hu tao’s scrutinizing gaze shifts to zhongli’s hand to find his fingers devoid of any rings, save for the ones on his thumbs.

“aha! mr. zhongli isn’t wearing a wedding ring!” she points out, unconvinced.

“oh! i nearly forgot!” you exclaim, unclasping your change purse before fishing out your husband’s wedding band. “you left this on your nightstand as well, dear.”

“aha! so that’s where it was!” zhongli slips his ring onto his gloved finger where, much to hu tao’s chagrin, it fits perfectly. “what would i do without you, my love?”

“probably lose your head and forget to put on clothes,” you tease, wrapping your hands behind his neck. “not that i have any complaints about seeing you naked…” zhongli chuckles lowly as he leans in closer, folding his arms around the small of your back to pull you in before placing a gentle, yet deliberate kiss on your lips.

the director's paled expression turns bright red as she stares in shock and awe, hardly believing her own eyes. having been subjected to the intimate display of affection for long enough, she shields her eyes and clears her throat dramatically. “okay! i believe you! please stop now!”

you and your husband part, him straightening his tie while you smooth your skirt in an effort to compose yourselves.

“i apologize, hu tao,” zhongli says, a light pink blush dusting his cheeks. “y/n and i only entered our matrimonial contract a little over a month ago, so we’re still enjoying the honeymoon phase.”

“matrimonial contract? see, mr. zhongli, this is why i was convinced you’d die a bachelor. you lack any semblance of rizz!”

“oh, you’d be surprised how much rizz he possesses behind closed doors, miss hu tao,” you say in your husband’s defense with a mischievous lilt to your tone.

perplexed as ever, zhongli props his chin between his thumb and finger. “what in the name of archons is rizz?”

“exactly,” hu tao jokes, leaving him to look on in confusion while the two of you giggle.

“i’ll explain it to you later, dear husband,” you assure him, patting his chest. he may have six millennia of history under his belt, but you’ll never cease to be irresistibly charmed by his quaint oblivion on such contemporary topics.

zhongli m.list | main m.list

✧˖° if anyone reading this enjoyed it, please consider reblogging !! zhongli will give you another kiss on your cheek if you do teehee.

[skriblee-ksk]

“I checked the drinks… Princes’ outfits are up to code… Grimmy’s with Ryoko right now… I didn’t forget anything, did I?”

“Okay. Ready as I’ll ever be…! Let’s make this ball a success!”

Set to Home Screen: Are you ready? I’ll wait for you, if you need me to.

Home Transition:

1: Woah… The chandeliers are so bright and sparkly… 12 arms from the bottom bowl, which are four more than the one in the Mirror Chamber, but the top… Ah, sorry!

2: Deuce called me Lady Kiyuu earlier, which really made me happy. I would have worn a pretty dress, but these clothes are a lot warmer and comfier. I think I managed to make myself look feminine either way!

3: Kalim’s really enjoying talking to the attendees. He seems to be getting friendly with everyone, including people from RSA! Must be because he’s familiar with hosting parties.

4: So many attractive people are here… I wonder if I’d be bothering them if I said I wanted to take a picture of them…?

Home, after Login: This ball is really fun! If I lean back on this wall and squint, it just looks like a blur of blue, white, and gold. I think it’s nice that there’s a time these schools can merge like this.

Tap Home:

1: I’m excited to vote for the Belle of the Ball! Huh? Oh, no, I never had any intent to participate. I just enjoy seeing pretty people.

2: Ah, what? Oh, I’m just reviewing my notepad to make sure I’m not forgetting any etiquette. I’m doing perfectly well, so far! I reviewed it before I entered too, but just in case, you know?

3: Oh, no, wait, Grim’s gonna devour the entire table of finger foods at this rate. I’ll be right back!

4: I know I’m supposed to be helping the princes out, but I’m not sure if I’m doing a proper job here… Hm? You think I’m doing pretty well? Mm… Hehe, thanks!

5: It’s a little bit harder than usual to catch the attention of the attendees here since there’s so many people… Well, I guess I just have to find better ways to make my presence known!

Glimmering Soirée is a twst fan event hosted by: @starry-night-rose!!

Groovy Lines: Unlocked

Notes and stuff under cut!!

Groovy art coming soon!! maybe. hopefully. i have the sketch done so hopefully i can finish lol. I slightly tried imitating the twst shading style, but idk.

I searched up men’s victorian era clothing and ended w making this design. few obvious design changes in the end (color) result, mostly the gloves.

Here’s the pic without the SR thing! And the sneak peak for the groovy (which i rlly tryharded on so maybe i should’ve listed it as an ssr but whatevs i’ll leave that to my friend + ryoko because ryoko deserves that ssr title)

And tag list for my friend who rlly wanted to be tagged in Kiyuu stuff (if you wanted be added, just tell me!!): @kathxrat-01

[esggs]

Obeisance to the Arrow - Noritoshi Kamo

#2 - The Ring Ceremony

[noritoshi kamo, 12 is engaged to his bride, 7. gojo satoru says hi.]

tw: forced marriage, child marriage (yes I'll age my characters up, let's have the angst for now), angst, Zenin clan being Zenin clan, noritoshi x reader, no use of 'y/n', fluff a bit, no smut.

#1 - Omiai #3 - Menarche

Growth happens sporadically. For example, you had not grown much in the first eight years of your life. Not much reason to, really. Your cursed technique became clear surprisingly early, at about 3 years of age, and since then you had lived the proper Zenin life. One of abundance, joy and familial love. If you said you wanted that cake, or that flower, or this or that, you had it in your hand immediately. Your father even talked about you being the clan head someday, impossible as it sounded to you. 

It wasn’t like you didn’t know anything about the flip side of it. Your dearest cousins Maki and Mai weren’t as special as you, you noticed. Nor was your mother as important as your father, in fact no aunty or grandma were as important as their husbands. But you were special. Surely you were.

There had been talks about your powers recently, before the Kamos visited you. Your family, the whole horde of them, would test you. It wasn’t very difficult. Curses would be brought out and you would have to use Distillation to choose the best cursed weapon to kill them. You would be shown a missing person report, you had to figure out where the person was. A funner game was the Maze Game, where Grandpa Naobito would leave you in a maze, or labyrinth, or anywhere you didn’t really know, and you would have to find your way out. Compared to school, this was actually more exciting to do. Especially the praise you would get afterwards from everyone. The prodigy of the family. The princess of the castle. 

You, idiot child you were, never really wondered how your family would react if you had happened to fail the tests. You never failed. You never disappointed. 

So it was quite sobering to be sitting in the Pit of Punishment after your attempt to run away. A failed attempt. You were disappointing both yourself and the Zenin clan. 

Naoya Zenin was lounging near the door, not actually letting the curses eat you – just enough to scare you. It was working. You were fucking terrified really, but somehow your cousin being there allowed you to not piss your pants. Naoya was a kind man. 

Mai. Mai come save me. Please. Nii-chan, please come, I can't move. Maki, mother, father, grandpa, please help me. someone, please, help me out.

“Really, little Zenin- oh, should I call you Kamo now?” He laughed. “Is this any way for a lady to behave?”

I’m 8, idiot. What lady are you talking about? 

Was it the ten minutes you spent in the pit, or the past two months of lady-training (as you called it), that made you grow up so fast? Somehow, after your marriage was fixed, handling tea-sets and cooking tamagoyaki became insanely important. But the worst was the lessons on womanly etiquette, on the ways of wifely manners, behaviours and duties. Unlike you, Maki and Mai were free to do as they liked, talk about being sorcerers and travelling to America. Not even they helped you, no one did. Hence came the plan Run-Away-From-Home. You got surprisingly far actually. Distillation was great for this: you could see every lapse in your home security, everything that you needed to carry, every route you should take. You had made it to the Kyoto train station before your family could get a hold of you. 

No longer were you a precious child, but you never really were, were you? You were nothing more than a lucky asset to have. The Zenin clan did not hesitate to earn the returns on you as soon as possible. Unfortunately soon. You are eight.

Naoya walks down the steps into the Pit where you lay curled in a foetal position and prods you with his finger. “Up, Kamo-chan” He grins, “Back to your chambers”. The curses melt away into the darkness. 

The days go by in a blur. Obedience, subservience, wifely duties, be agreeable, be quiet, be attentive, the domain of the kitchen and bedroom, marriage, husband, Noritoshi Kamo. You want to drive a machete through that man’s chest. He’s the cause of all this, yes, it’s all his fault. Now that your marriage has been fixed (and a bride price of 60 million yen wrestled from the Kamo clan) there isn’t actually any care or concern for your previously much praised cursed technique. When you think about it, it isn’t really great in any way, is it? Distillation allows the user to understand everything within the span of their eyesight. Every question answered, every mystery solved, the cloudy waters distilled – as long as you can see it. You suppose Sherlock Holmes would love this power, but you are fated to be a wife and mother, nothing more. Maybe it’ll help you find the broom closet faster. The days and months are all plagued by the same thing: Noritoshi Kamo.

—- 

Satoru Gojo walks about the lavishly decorated garden. Megumi would’ve liked the food, he muses, his stark white mop reflecting sunlight over the heads of the celebrating crowd. A Kamo-Zenin engagement, and all the festivities that came with it. Ah, the celebrations of higher-ups, nothing gets them happier than child marriage. Thank fuck I saved Megumi. He didn’t have much choice in attending this. As the Gojo clan head, there are some things you must do, regardless of personal feelings. To not rock the boat. To keep the status quo as it is. 

The ring ceremony is over, bride-to-be and groom-to-be having identical rings on their hands now, and they have retired back into the inner chambers of the Kamo estate. Blood Manipulation and Distillation? Satoru smiled, worth a visit. 

Satoru Gojo wasn’t expecting any resistance from anyone, because A. he’s Satoru Gojo and B. he wasn’t technically doing anything wrong per se, it’s just that people distrusted his movies meeting the young couple. For good measure, what if I teach the kids the concept of free will?

He found the two sitting by themselves on a veranda, apologising to each other about the marriage. Clearly, people were too busy merry-making to notice the runaway pair. Besides, where would they even run away to? There is nowhere to go. Satoru frowned. They’re too young to be behaving like this. 

“Ah, young love!” He happily startled the two with his sudden appearance, “Do you two turtle-doves have space for a dashing older brother like me?”

They did not return his wide grin and wider arms. Satoru watched as recognition clicked onto both their faces (your father had shown you two a picture of Satoru Gojo and told you to avoid him). The Kamo boy, a lean young man of 12, got up slowly and bowed to him, welcoming him with such formal words. The Zenin bride, a literal child of maybe 8, nodded her head, trying to quickly hide her tears. She said nothing, seemingly hiding behind her brand-new fiancé. 

Satoru laughed at the sight. One day I’ll grind down these motherfucking old ass clans who do this shit to kids, I swear to myself. “Scared of me, little brat?” The poor child, look at her. “Aren’t you the sorcerer with the immense Distillation technique?” 

You glance up at him, eyes still watery. Gojo Satoru is startling to look at. Shocking white hair, a full head taller than most people, blindfolded in broad daylight, the palest skin on his handsome features. And his abounding cursed energy, it stuns (and maybe scares) you. The blindfold doesn’t stop much, his gaze can be felt searing into your skin. There is nothing you can do. Helpless, pitiful, sold like sheep by your own family. And yet– 

“Immense?” 

“Aren’t you the one with all the answers? A prophet of sorts, no?”

What? In all your life, you had never thought of things like that– Could you? Were you?

“Her technique is brilliant, Gojo-sama.” Noritoshi lends a hand. “The way I understand it, a bit like your Six Eyes, yes?”

And before you could remember your wifely training, you found yourself contesting him. “Not really, the Six Eyes help him see, in the physical sense. I understand things that aren’t there really. For example, Gojo-sama can see me through my wataboshi, I am certain, but I can see Gojo-sama’s thoughts on this wedding.” Despite everything, you can't not be you.

Satoru claps his hands together, “Perfect explanation, even though that was a bit creepy” He laughs. “Can you really hear my thoughts?” 

“I’m not sure”

“Try–”

Cursed Technique: Distillation

The crowds outside suddenly falls quiet, so do the other two in your room. There is no movement, no sound, no thought except for yours. Satoru Gojo’s formal shirt is from Junya Watanabe’s recent Summer Collection. His molars hurt because he ate too much daifuku at the dessert station. He disapproves of your marriage, but this is a hill that he cannot die on. He’s had some meaty ginger chicken packed from lunch for his adopted son, Megumi Fushiguro. He thinks Noritoshi is too tall and too mature for his age. He truly is impressed to see your technique. He thinks this is all nonsense, and that you are a child, and that you should enjoy your youth to the fullest as a young girl, not as a wife. He promises that no matter what, he will arrange for you to attend Jujutsu Tech School. 

—--

Satoru Gojo left soon after. After a long time, you saw hope in your future.

#3 - Menarche

pics:

sftish_

2. anime screencap

[A/N: honestly i recently binged the whole manga, i cant cross chapter 210 ish, a beloved character of mine seems to face imminent death, im just not ready for it. plus im procrastinating on an assignment, a viva voce test, 300+ pages of reading and a research project due this month, so have at my random burst of energy

do lemme know if u like it, or if i can make any changes? like chapter's too long, or my writing is a bit unclear, id love to hear feedback :)) ]

[your-yandere-bestfriend]

　　　　　ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.Wet dreams.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

Todoroki Shoto

Based off the song Wet Dreamz by J. Cole.

(Guys do I drop this after a 2 year hiatus or no )

。。。 Though it was the second day of school already, there had already been talk of a new student—most likely gossip overheard from the U.A. staff. Typically a new student wasn’t of much appeal, this was a huge school after all, even though it was prestigious, but what made the U.A. students so chatty about this new student was the fact that she was a foreigner. There had only even been three American students in the long history of U.A. high school, so getting a transfer was not only impressive, due to the fact that she wasn’t required to participate in the entrance exams, and also exciting.

The bell chimed for second blocks end, and next for the students of class 3.A., was the drowse inducing subject. Math. The teachers filtered out in order to teach their proper subject, after all just because this was a hero school didn’t mean that they were excused from engaging in normal, more uneventful subjects. Todoroki sat with perfect posture in the back of the room, awaiting the teachers entrance. His ears perked up when he heard Midoriya speak of the new girl who might’ve been making her first entrance today, though he didn’t quite care for a new student, it honestly had nothing to do with him, he hadn’t found a need for more friends, Midoriya, Uraraka, Iida, and Floppy felt plentiful.

The door slid open, the chattering of the class going still. In walked Cemento, but it wasn’t just him, it was also the new girl, and now that he has seen her with his own eyes, he could understand what the excitement was for. She had mesmerizing, smooth skin, she was delicate looking, with the such pretty eyes, they put his heterochromia ones to shame. Along with her pretty eyes and gorgeous figure her hair was long, around 30 inches, and red just like his left side, Todoroki couldn’t care less if it was real or not. He was sure his mouth was keenly open, but he knew he wasn’t alone, even the girls in the class were shocked at her appearance.

Cemento guided her to the front of the large classroom, in front of the expensive smart board that wasn’t yet displaying geometry problems, thankfully.

Cemento was preparing to give her the go ahead to start speaking but she already took that initiative for herself.

“Hi everyone it’s an absolute pleasure to meet you all! I’m … and I look forward to getting to know each and every one of you,” she beamed.

Sure she was already beautiful but todoroki could feel fire coming out his right side when she smiled revealing a straight line of pretty, white teeth. His multicolored eyes glanced around his classroom, and even the notorious Bakugou was in awe, a sight he has never yet seen.

“It is an absolute honor to have you here … ! Your Japanese is impressive!” Iida stood up moving his arm in the odd robotic like motions, but todoroki doubted anyone missed the telltale pink blush flushed across his pale face.

… bowed in response, traditional Japanese etiquette that she had obviously studied along with the language.

His eyes followed her long legs as she walked to the only empty seat in the room. Right next to him.

[muzzlemouths]

Were the DMD boys ever witnesses to a baby's firsts? Like first words or first steps?

Superstar Shopping Center, circa 1977

“Did you need help with that?”

Sun moseys up to a mother who looks like she’s got her hands full – literally. Four shopping bags balanced on one arm and a baby in the other. A second child — five or six, if he had to guess — clings to the tail of her mother’s jacket in lieu of a free hand, dressed in her Sunday Best. She ducks behind her mother’s arm as Sun nears and addresses him with a look tied between awe and apprehension.

Contrarily, her mother regards Sun with nothing but relief, handing over all but one of her bags the moment his hands extend to take them. “Well, thank you!” She reorients the remaining bag to sit at her elbow so the little girl at her side has a proper handhold and gently scolds her for continuing to hide.

“It’s quite alright,” Sun assures her with a kind smile. He crouches to be more at eye-level with the child and offers her a little wave, taking no offense to the way she peeks only slightly out from behind her mother. “That’s a very pretty dress,” he says. It’s a Carter's collared plaid, Christmas-time red, with a white dog-eared collar and rabbit embroidery. Perfectly suited for the season. “Are you headed somewhere special?”

“Just down to Shutterbug,” the mother laughs, answering Sun’s question when her daughter doesn’t budge. “I know it’s still early in the season, but I have an endless list of things to get around to before the month’s end, so we’re just going to get our photos done now, and the family will just receive their cards a little early, this year.”

“Oh, certainly,” he nods sagely, as if he’s even once sent a Christmas card himself, “better to get it over and done with before everyone and their mother realizes they’ve forgotten to sign and seal their envelopes!”

“Exactly!” She laughs again. “I figure, well, I might as well get some gift shopping done since I’m already here, but–”

Right on cue, the infant in her arms begins to wail his poor little head off, and she grimaces.

“Finding it hard to get anything done with your hands full?” Sun asks, waiting for her nod before continuing. “Well, that’s nothing I can’t fix! I could carry your other bags for you, or–”

“Could you babysit?”

He straightens with a jolt, nearly dropping the bags he already carried in the process. “Oh! Well, um, company policy doesn’t exactly allow me to–”

“It would just be for a few minutes. An hour, at most.” She gives him a pleading look. “You’re coded with childcare protocols, aren’t you?”

“I–” Sun scrambles for an answer. “My training extends to some childcare etiquette, but–”

“Perfect!” She lofts the infant into his arms like he is nothing more than a small sack of potatoes. “This is George. He’s nine months old as of last week, was just changed, and ate an hour ago, so he should be an angel for you.”

“W-What about his shoes?” He tucks the child against his shoulder and gestures worriedly towards his itty little toes, clothed in nothing but the navy blue footie he wears.

“Oh, don’t be silly, he’s still too young!” The woman insists, “George has only just learned how to crawl, I doubt he’ll be walking any time soon. You have nothing to worry about!”

“But–”

“I’ll come find you in an hour when I’m all finished up. Thank you again!”

The mother turns on her heel like she’s being chased out by fire, leaving Sun there in the center of the mall aisle, still as a statue and stunned into silence.

There was a kernel of truth to his words. Both he and Moon had been programmed with the know-how in terms of child rearing basics, and in fact it was the very first frame of coding that he recalls having. For what purpose, he isn’t sure. It has lied dormant beneath layers of more relevant protocols for years and only ever makes an appearance when he’s interacting with the few children the mall sees from time to time. Even still, it is nothing in the way of proper training for how to care for an infant so small, and for so long.

Needless to say, he was panicking.

The first thing he does after quieting the infant’s cries is find another employee and hand off the bags, instructing them to be brought to Shutterbug and kept behind the desk for the time being.

With his hands freed he can focus all of his attention on the child who, for what it’s worth, has been a perfect angel in the short time since he was haphazardly carted into Sun’s arms. Quiet as a church mouse after that first little outburst, and just as cute, too, the little bundle of joy looking up at him with big brown eyes full of wonder.

Sun returns his gaze with a long sigh. “Now then, what are we going to do with you?”

The protocols that once were dormant now rose to the surface and screamed at him to engage the child in “stimulating activities“, whatever that meant. Instructions for playtime involved everything from games like peekaboo and patty-cake to more developmental activities, such as playing music, coloring, or toying with building blocks. Sun doubted that Bee Gees’ hit single “Stayin’ Alive” was anything in the way of educational for the tiny tot as it played over the speakers, and — to the best of his knowledge — he can’t recall ever having access to building blocks or coloring books. That left nothing but the traditional baby games, tried and true, and easy enough!

He borrows a small blanket from a store nearby and finds a cozy spot on the floor, tucked safely between two plant boxes, to set him down. Sun finds that playing these games comes almost naturally to him — but that’s a given, isn’t it? He follows the instruction manual in his code to the letter, pride and joy overwhelming his stint of uncertainty each time he comes out from hiding behind his hands to the sound of shrill laughter, every “Peek-a-boo!” earning him a motley of giggles and a baby-toothed smile.

Distraction arrives in the form of an employee struggling to carry a stack of boxes into the store behind him. He’s on his feet and across the room in an instant as one protocol briefly overrides the other, and it’s only for a moment — just a moment — but when he turns around again it is to the sight of an empty blanket.

His charge has gone missing.

Panic overwhelms every one of his sensors, rushing along his circuits like adrenaline through veins gripping him with a fear so potent it threatens to shut down his system right then and there.

No, think! His mother said he had only just learned to crawl, which meant little George couldn’t have gone far. Unless the infant hadn’t gone anywhere by himself at all, and rather, someone had come along and–

Sun shut down that train of thought the moment it struck him. He would never forgive himself if something so terrible happened on his watch, saying nothing of what management would do to him if a child was abducted right from under his nose.

He decides the best course of action right now is to follow the same protocol he would use for any other “lost” child. Yes, lost, that’s all they were. It’s so easy to get lost in a mall as large as this one. Sun comforts himself with the knowledge that he has never let a lost child go unfound before. His success rate is a perfect 100%, and he intends to keep it that way.

First, he scans the security cameras for any sight of the child. He is sure to look in every nook and cranny, and he deflates with growing dread when that little navy footie doesn’t appear anywhere on the screens. His voice cuts through the employee radio a moment later and describes the child with every possible detail he can think of, asking that any sighting of the little straggler be reported to him immediately. He hopes against every star in the sky that the mother doesn’t happen to overhear from an employee nearby.

Lastly, he heads out in search of help.

Moon is meant to be working on the upper floor today, helping Sun handle the usual holiday rush, and his lack of response to the radio call is concerning. Not too concerning, though, given that Sun finds him right where he’d been expecting to.

That is, sprawled atop the lockers in the employee break room, one arm dangling over the side, the other resting casually over his waist, and a VOGUE magazine draped over his face.

‘Lazy’ doesn’t even scratch the surface of the words Sun wants to use. They’ve talked about this, the bad habit having put Moon in trouble a number of times already, but that’s an argument for another day.

There’s no time to mince words right now, and so he doesn’t. Instead, Sun stalks across the room and slams his fist against the lockers beneath his sleeping coworker, who sits upright with such force that his head makes contact with the ceiling and crashes through like a train into glass.

It might have been funny if Sun wasn’t as whipped up into a panic as he is, but as it stands he can hardly even keep from raising his voice when he addresses Moon with a scowl. “Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Sun hisses, arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently. “I take it you didn’t hear my radio call?”

Moon serves him with a glower of his own, snarling deep within his voicebox as he runs his hand over the glassy side of his faceplate to ensure that it’s still intact. He has the decency to look a little guilty, if only for a moment, cerulean blue eyes lowering to the radio attached at his hip that is visibly turned to OFF.

“Of course not,” Sun tuts.

Griping, Moon dusts the ceiling powder from his shoulders. “What could be so important that you had to–”

“I lost a baby.”

The words render him speechless, a long, uncomfortable silence taking up the space between them for all of a minute before Moon blurts out, “Sun, you don’t have a baby.”

“That’s because I lost him!” Sun shrills, beginning to pace. “I was helping a mother with her bags, and she asked me to babysit, a-and I know we aren’t technically allowed to, but– but it all just happened so fast!” His arms flailed for emphasis. “She said he wasn’t even walking yet, I thought it’d be easy! Everything was going so well, too, we were playing a game of peek-a-boo and then – then someone needed help. I only had my back turned for a minute, Moon. Maybe even less! But then I turned around, and…”

“You lost a baby,” he mutters to himself. Moon runs both hands over his face, sighing into his palms. “You lost a baby,” he repeats. “How do you lose an entire child?”

“I don’t know!” Sun answers, voice cracking with guilt. “Will you help me find them?”

“Obviously.” Moon hops down from the lockers (pointedly ignoring the massive hole in the ceiling – he’d come up with an excuse to tell management later) and is already crossing the room when he speaks again. “Management will take it out on both of us if they find out, so you need to get a grip. Your face looks like you just watched someone plummet to their death, for fucks’s sake.” He pauses at the door. “Did you get a scan of their face?”

“O-Of course!”

“Good. Transfer the image to me along with any other information that might be helpful. I’ll search the exits, you take the first story department stores.”

“What about the second floor?”

He fits him with a quizzical expression, going as far as to form an eyebrow with the stars on his faceplate screen and arch it pointedly. “You said this kid wasn’t walking yet,” Moon reminds him. “If someone ‘napped the little guy, they aren’t going to stick around, much less be caught shopping. They’ll head for the exits, first.”

“I guess that’s true…”

“And if you just coincidentally happened to have been babysitting the world’s fastest crawler, they would still be stuck on the first floor,” he continues, “which is why we’re checking there first.”

“Right. Right. You’re right.” Sun’s nod is shaky at best. His hands wring together with a tension that threatens to pop the joints out of place with each anxious tug.

Moon sighs and crosses the room again to place a hand on Sun’s shoulder. “We’ll find him,” he comforts, giving the shoulder a gentle squeeze, “but we need to go now. You won’t fix anything by standing here worrying.”

“Right,” he repeats, working to smother his nerves for the sake of focusing on the task at hand. “You check the exits, I’ll check the department stores. We’ll meet up at the fountain in thirty minutes if neither of us find anything?”

“Ten minutes,” Moon asserts. He wastes no further time, leaving Sun with only that and a firm nod before pacing out of the room.

Sun hopes they aren’t already too late.

-

Their search yields nothing but more disappointment. Ten painfully long minutes of searching that ends with them meeting at the fountain equally empty handed and with no further leads.

“We’re too late,” wails Sun, already catastrophizing. “How am I going to explain this to their mother? She’ll never forgive me, I’ll never forgive me–” His fingers hook around the rays beside his chin, the thin metal groaning beneath the force and threatening to snap right then and there, “–and management — stars, Moon, we’re going to be dismantled over this!”

“Lower your voice!” Moon snaps. He looks around, ensuring that that their crime — Sun’s crime — hasn’t been overheard. Luckily, it appears the fountain has drowned out their conversation sufficiently. “You need to calm down,” he continues. “I’m sure they’re somewhere around here.”

“We’ve checked everywhere!” His left ray bends under the pressure, molding to the shape of his fingers, slowly but surely. “I should have never let this happen. What was I thinking, turning my back on them? Now they’re all alone, o-or hurt, somewhere, or–”

“Hey, hey.” Moon takes him by the wrist, careful yet firm as he pries Sun’s fingers away from his mangled ray then holds his hand at a distance, so he can’t hurt himself further. “You made a mistake,” he agrees, “but it’s not fair to hold all of that blame yourself. You have no frame of reference for this sort of thing, we aren’t meant to be taking care of children in the first place.”

“I should have known better!” Sun insists. “How can I be expected to run a daycare if I can’t even look after one kid?”

Moon freezes, his optics flickering in a blink. “We–” slowly, he releases Sun’s wrist, “–we aren’t a daycare, Sun. We’re a mall. Are…are you feeling okay?”

“I…” Alarms and notices flood his screen, blocking Moon from view. Corroded files long since forgotten behind firewalls and newly instated protocols. He looks for answers in their overwhelming code and finds nothing but more questions; a lingering sense of awareness always just out of his reach. Then they’re gone, swept away all at once as his system tidies itself up, and he can think clearly again. “We’re in a mall,” he echoes, nodding to himself, “we run a mall. We’re mascots, not – not–” He faces Moon with a calmer disposition, forcing a smile, “I’m alright, now.”

“I always preferred the term Icon,” says Moon, “’mascot’ makes us sound like those people in animal suits waving around signs outside of businesses.” He laughs, and Sun laughs, too, but it’s strained. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

He sighs with the last crumb of uncertainty. “I’m fine, just…confused, I guess. I think the anxiety is getting to me.” When he straightens again it’s with newfound gusto, a determination to make things right. “None of our employees have reported seeing anyone carting off with a baby that fits George’s description, so he must still be here. Do you want to try the second floor after all?”

“I guess it’s worth a shot,” says Moon. He takes another look around, eyes scanning the area for any possible lead, until his star-studded eyebrow arches downward. “You said he was wearing a blue footie?”

“Navy blue,” Sun nods his confirmation, “with a little white pocket on the front.”

“Like that?”

He follows Moon’s point all the way to the escalator, where good ol’ George is sat, halfway up to the second story, already, suckling at his thumb like this is any other Tuesday.

“That’s–” Sun feels like he’s going to scream, “that’s him!”

“Huh. Baby on an escalator,” he mutters inquisitively. “Never seen that before.”

“Moon!”

Not wanting to risk any more dillydallying, Sun rushes past him and beelines through the crowd, anxiety pulsing through him tenfold as he gets caught up in a group of customers gathered on the escalator themselves.

Moon takes an alternative route, opting to skip the escalator steps all together. Instead he leaps directly onto the handrail, steady and practiced, and carefully avoids his customer’s fingers as he races upward.

Sun meets him at the top an excruciating few seconds after and feels his composure slip further upon seeing him empty handed. “Where–?”

“I don’t know,” Moon interrupts, looking just as confused. “He was already gone when I got up here.”

“Seriously?” He braces both palms across his arms, hugging himself tightly so he doesn’t just rip out his rays all together. “He’s a baby, for Pete’s sake. How far could he have gone? How does this keep happening?”

“There!” Moon points a little ways off, where little George — somehow, someway — is spotted riding a runaway janitor’s cart, its wheels spiraling uncontrollably forward and headed straight for the wall.

“Stop that cart!” Shrieks Sun, already halfway across the room and hot on the cart’s tail.

The crowd is thick, clusters of customers all aiming to get their holiday shopping in before the real chaos begins, and it makes the already out of hand situation that much harder.

Sun hears the crash before he sees it, and feels his battery operated heart sink. The sight he’s met with upon finally reaching the end of the balcony is disastrous at best. The cart rests in a broken mess on the floor, having evidently bounced into a pair of trash cans rather than collide with the wall. One of said cans has toppled onto its side from the impact, and the trail of garbage leading out of it paints a perplexing picture.

Moon catches up with him a minute later, fans whirring like he’s out of breath. “Is he–”

“Gone,” Sun answers, aghast. He points to the breadcrumbs (literally) that trail out of the toppled can. “I think he fell into the garbage.”

“Well, that’s better than the wall,” hums Moon. “Maybe it cushioned his fall? And then the trashcan fell over…” he trails off.

“And he just…crawled out?” Sun finishes the thought, then raises his chin. The two share a dumbfounded expression.

“Sun, what kind of mutant child did you agree to babysit?”

“Don’t be rude!” He chastises. “George is just…special.”

“Yeah, specially designed to outwit us. They should have called him Curious George.” His eye follows the garbage trail until it peters out a few feet down. “Where do you suppose he went now?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Sun groans. “Should we split up?”

“Good idea. You take the east wing, I’ll go west. Reconvene in thirty minutes?”

“Ten,”‌ corrects Sun, grimacing at the deja vu. “His mother promised an hour, and it’s already been over half of that. If we can’t find him in ten minutes, then we - we–”

“We are going to find him,” Moon assures, bolstering Sun’s confidence as best as he can. “We just need to focus, alright? No more running around like chickens with our heads cut off.”

Sun nods his agreement. “Right, okay. You’re right. I won’t let a baby run me in circles around my own mall.” His frazzled expressions calms, at that, and he smiles. “Just a nine-month infant who crawls a little faster than normal, that’s all he is. Easy peasy!”

-

What happens next is neither easy nor peasy. In fact, calling it ‘running circles’ is an understatement. In the next ten minutes alone, little George sends both of them out on nothing short of a wild goose chase, appearing in nigh impossible positions each and every time and always just out their grasp.

Sun is the first to find him. Tucked into the one corner of a store that the cameras don’t reach, donning a pair of sunglasses of all things (upside-down, mind you), and playing with a silicone whisk from the kitchenware section. Sun is only a short distance away when a customer taps him on the shoulder and asks where they can find the bathroom. Of course, the little tot is already gone when he turns back around.

A few meters down, Moon discovers some discarded sunglasses on the floor. He spots a familiar pair of white padded feet a moment later and finds George climbing the side of an information kiosk. The employee inside is busy with a customer and doesn’t even notice the little rascal scaling the grounded kiosk sign like he was born to climb Everest. They notice Moon, though, and are all too eager to introduce one of the mall’s very own mascots to the customer who is, apparently, visiting for the very first time. It’s all Moon can do just to act polite in front of the woman as his guest-orientation protocols take over, keeping him paralyzed there even as the infant merrily drops from the sign and disappears from his sight.

Five minutes later Sun hears a shrill of laughter and turns around a corner to see George playing in the plant trough like it’s a sandbox, his navy footie all but smothered in dirt. An internal scream rips silently through his system as he grapples with the knowledge that he’s now going to get an earful even if he does successfully get his hands on the kid.

True to character, George is nowhere to be found when Sun winds up in front of the planter. He calms his nerves and protocols alike by fixing the poor flowers back into their proper position from where they had been carelessly plucked out and thrown aside. He knows there’s no saving a few of them, and he’ll need to reorder more seeds to make up for it, but that’s a headache for another day.

The current source of his vexation appears to have shown some mercy, at least. Sun finds a trail of muddy footprints leading out of the trough and down the aisle. An employee glances up from their storefront desk upon seeing him and points to the right, towards the candy store, knowing exactly what he was looking for, already. For the life of him, Sun cannot understand why they — or anyone else for that matter — hasn’t thought to stop the runaway infant. Apparently, a nine month old crawling around without parental supervision is nothing to bat an eye at to anyone in the mall’s entire vicinity.

Moon is passing by Waning Lights theater when he hears a small commotion inside. On a hunch he peeks in, expecting nothing in particular, and instead sees two enormous baby hands covering the screen. That is, two very small baby hands waving in front of the projector.

He’s up the steps in a matter of seconds, mechanics racing with the adrenaline of having finally caught the little devil, only — of course — the little hands have already disappeared, and the seat is empty, leaving only a confused employee where he once was. “You’re joking…” Moon whispers, exhausted. An already irritated customer shushes him from somewhere downstage. Distantly, he hears the telltale sound of infant babbling and begrudgingly follows it out of the theater again.

He bursts through the door and right into Sun, colliding with a loud clatter of metal and recoiling, each holding their heads respectively and groaning in perfect unison.

“Did you find him?” Sun asks around a wince.

“Technically yes, but–”

“He got away from you too?”

Moon nods. “What is it with this kid?”

“I don’t know, but we need to figure out a different plan soon. We’re already over our ten minutes.” He looks around once more for good measure, knowing the child couldn’t have gone too far, already, if they had both just spotted him a moment ago.

That’s when he sees it. Little George, nine months old, walking down the balcony aisle. Rather, the little tike is running like he’s off to the races.

“Well, that explains why he’s been able to get everywhere so fast,” says Moon, following Sun’s gaze. “I thought you said he was only starting to crawl?”

“He’s, um, a fast learner?” Sun answers sheepishly. He watches George go for all of one long, lovestruck moment — feeling like a proud parent himself — before the swell of pride in his chest shatters to make way for circuit frying terror.

See, little George has shown himself to be quite the impressive little acrobat. He can walk, he can run, he can climb, and at that very moment he is making quick work of closing the distance between himself and a stack of boxes pressed up against the balcony railing.

The only thing awaiting him on the other side is a long, long fall.

Sun darts forward without a word, but Moon is faster, weaving through the crowd with a nimble speed that he cannot compete with. “We aren’t going to make it,” Sun gasps, announcing it to himself, mostly, as horror grips him throughout. Even if they reach the railing on time, George is already at the top of the stack, raising himself onto unsteady feet and peering out into the great beyond. He’ll be over the edge before they can stop him, and they won’t make it to the first floor on time to catch him there.

But then Sun hears it; the whir of a wire, quick and sturdy as it races through its ceiling track to Moon’s beck and call. He watches its metal hook begin to lower from a few paces away, just as the infant topples up and over, and his body seizes with fear as Moon leaps over the railing after him.

He hears a click, the wire latching out of sight, going taut. Sun holds his breath until the sound of giggling follows. Peering warily over the railing, hands shaking, he sees Moon dangling halfway to the floor. Little George bounces in his arms, clapping and cheering and laughing away like this is all just another game.

Moon lowers himself the remaining distance to the floor as Sun scrambles down the elevator to meet him. He looks rightfully shaken, his faceplate screen blank of even stars, but his grip remains persistent. He’s not going to risk putting the kid down for a moment, even if he feels like he’s going to bluescreen any second now. Their landing is celebrated with the undeniable sound of George taking the world’s largest shit, and though Moon wants to be angry, all he manages to come up with in response is “Me too, kid.”

A voice calls over their internal radios right as Sun’s feet hit the floor.

“Can someone ring the mascots?” Asks the employee, “I’m stationed at Shutterbug with a customer and she says they have her baby…?”

“I’m on my way!” Sun answers the radio aloud. He takes the baby from Moon, who extends George to him from a distance, grateful — now more than ever — for their ability to turn off their nose receptors.

“What about the footie?” Moon gestures to the dirt-soaked clothes once his hands are free. “I don’t think she’s going to be happy if he’s brought back all dirty – or naked. That might be worse.”

On a whim, Sun turns George over to check the footie’s tag. Relief floods his system when he reads the name. “We carry this brand – I’ll bet anything that we have this exact footie somewhere in the store. Can you go find it?” He makes a face and turns his own nose receptors off a moment after. “Maybe a pack of diapers, too,” he laughs. “Oh! Can you also pick up a rabbit from Fluff-&-Stuff?”

“What about you?”

“I’m headed to the bathrooms so I can clean the little guy up.” He holds George up, then, wielding him like a stinky little weapon. “Unless you want to try changing a diaper?”

“Navy blue footie with a white pocket, got it,” answers Moon, already turning on his heel and heading in the opposite direction.

-

Ten minutes later, Sun exits the bathroom feeling like a brand new person. A scarred, mortified person, but new all the same. Who knew baby poop could be so traumatizing?

Moon had returned a moment before, toting with him the items that Sun had requested, and together they figured out how to dress the freshly cleaned child in a new diaper. Whoever said it wasn’t rocket science was right. It was somehow worse. Still, they persevered, and at the end of it all they had a clean, happy, freshly diapered baby to show for their efforts. Now it was just a matter of delivering him back to his mother.

“Why did you want the rabbit?” Moon asks as he trades over the stuffed animal, happy to hold little George now that the little tike isn’t a stink grenade.

“You’ll see,” answers Sun, refusing to elaborate. He rounds the corner with Moon following at his heel and steps into Shutterbug, greeting the mother with his best customer-pleasing smile. “So sorry for the wait, ma’am. George here had a bit of an accident on our way back.”

The woman tuts guilty, but is happy to see them all the same. “Oh, goodness, how embarrassing. I can pay for the diapers you used.”

“Nonsense!” He tells her with a casual wave of his hand, “We’re happy to lend a hand, and it’s not like the little guy could help himself.”

“You’re a sweetheart,” she smiles. “And he behaved for you, otherwise?”

Sun glances over his shoulder at Moon, and the two share a look.

Nodding, Moon steps forward and hands the child over when his mother extends her arms for him. “He was an angel,” Moon tells her.

They had both already agreed to keep their mouths shut on the entire ordeal, including and up to George’s newfound capabilities. Aside from how much trouble they would both find themselves in if anyone ever found out about the chase this single child had put them through, it simply wasn’t their place to mention it. Sun, especially, didn’t want to take away that special moment when his mother rightfully deserved to have it to herself.

“Well, I’m glad to hear it,” she sighs with relief. “Thank you again for watching her. You two are a real blessing, you know that? I wouldn’t have been able to get all my ducks in a row without your help.”

“Anytime!” Sun answers. He spots a plaid dress hiding behind her, and lowers himself into a crouch. “Hello, again,” he calls to the little girl using his kindest voice, and extends the stuffed rabbit for her to take. “I noticed you had some bunnies on your dress, so I thought you might like this.”

Behind him, Moon relaxes into a fond smile.

“That’s very kind of you,” says her mother, who nudges her forward gently. “Go on, it’s okay,” she reassures her. “It’s a gift.”

The child hesitant, but eventually she peeks out from behind her mother just enough to take the offered rabbit, which she tucks against her chest in a great, big hug. “Th…Thank you,” she whispers. Then, feeling brave, she rewards him with a gap-toothed smile.

Moon clears his voice-box. “Well, we should let you get to it,” he says, full-well knowing that Sun would stay here cooing at the children all day if he let him.

And Sun, for what it’s worth, knows exactly what the vocal nudge means, and detaches himself from the family with a wave and some merry goodbyes before the two of them depart together.

“That was sweet of you,” Moon comments once they’re out of earshot. “You aren’t hoping for kids of our own, are you? I don’t think I’m ready for that level of commitment.” He elbows Sun with a smile, getting a hearty laugh out of him.

“Moon, I’ll be honest. I will be the happiest bot in the world if I never have to change another diaper again.” This time it’s Moon’s turn to laugh, and he laughs until his vocals strain with effort. “But, you know, it wasn’t too bad. Taking care of a baby, I mean. I think we make a pretty good team – and decent parents.”

“I’m the better parent,” Moon says around a wide grin. “You’re too much of a stick in the mud.”

“And you’re too spoiling!” Sun laughs, “Don’t think I haven’t seen you giving out candy to the kids that sneak off without their parents.”

“I’m teaching a valuable lesson,” Moon insists, hand flying over his heart like he’s offended by the notion. “If parents want to leave their children unattended, they have to face the consequences. It won’t be me dealing with the inevitable sugar rush.”

A gasp in the distance interrupts their playful bickering. They turn halfway, back towards Shutterbug. 

“Did you see that?” Chirps the mother, loud and clear. Her giddy voice followed immediately by the shutter of a camera. “Look – look! He’s walking!”

Again, the two share a look. Surprise becomes amusement becomes pride, then joy, and they laugh, and laugh, and laugh.

[miserymerci]

Fluffy February Day 9: Storm - The Gaiwan

Fandom: Lego Monkie Kid

Characters: MK and Sun Wukong (Sunburst duo)

(Mentor-Student, some sick MK, allusions to Wukong’s trauma in Heaven)

No Season 5 spoilers

Summary: Set before S1 E10 (The End is Here!), and then after "Day 7: Some Assembly Required" after the timeskip. MK's hiccups caused earthquakes, his sneezes caused strong gusts of wind, and if he aimed a cough incorrectly into the nook of his elbow, the nearest tree would burn up to a crisp. The turmoil he could see was easy to pinpoint, but the truest tempests manifested deep in the heart and mind. MK wished that he could see into his mentor's storm.

“…and then the cast iron shot through the window, and I think the power circuits must’ve fried because the time on the stove went back a minute– aH –!” Monkey King lifted the small table by its legs and held it up like a shield, “– CHHOOO! Huuhg…”

Monkey King tossed away the newly-split-in-half table.

“That sounds like quite a morning,” he said to his successor, smiling. “From the way you were talking, it sounded like you were shooed off until everything’s fixed.”

MK blinked, considering that.

“No, you’re right. I’m never allowed to help with spring cleaning– I just thought I could’ve helped this once,” he said. He tried to clear his throat casually, but a tiny, traitorous cough rattled the phlegm building in his throat. “But it’ll be fine. I mean, I’ve torn down a wall before. This wasn’t so bad.”

“I’m sure,” said Monkey King.

Monkey King set the broken table aside and took one look at a close-by hoard before his tail freed another table from the pile. The deep red-brown of the wood was hidden by a thick layer of dust (and possibly a small ecosystem of mites). He snapped his tail against the air like a whip, and all of the dust shot off like a shockwave.

“ah–AUG–!” cried MK.

“FACE AWAY FROM THE–!”

MK cupped his nose.

In the next second, Monkey King’s ears popped, went deaf, and then rang back to life.

“I– hugh,” said Monkey King, blinking away the stun. He shook his head. “Wow, okay . You alright, bud?”

MK’s hands slid carefully from his mouth, drawing up to press the heels of his palms into his eyes. He whined pitifully.

Monkey King placed the table down in front of him and settled down onto his knees. “MK?” he tried again.

“I’m not feeling great,” said MK. He rubbed down onto his eyes and then blinked heavily. They squinted, shut, squinted, and then turned to Monkey King again. “What’s that?”

“Tea. It’s supposed to help with all sorts of human pains.”

“How did you get that all so fast?”

Monkey King snorted, but took pity on his protégé, “I got up. I told you I’d be right back.”

Hm. Well, MK didn’t remember that . He winced and rubbed at his temple, but he didn’t accomplish anything more than a worse ache.

MK was more prone to hiccups than anything else. He ate too fast, laughed too hard, and choked on peppers more often than Pigsy would approve (he was always about proper noodle-eating etiquette; not to be confused with fancy Dragon Clan family etiquette). Ultimately, the most dangerous enemy to MK’s immune system was himself. And spring.

“Even cramps?”

Monkey King’s eyes flitted up from the jar of tea leaves, but didn’t do much else.

“Likely, if you want,” he said.

“Oh…”

“Have you eaten?” continued Monkey King, placing a set of cups and a pitcher (that could easily shatter from another one of MK’s sneezes) onto the low table. The leaves in the jar wafted delicate, floral scents over to MK, who decided that the smell was stirring uncomfortable sensations in his head.

“Yeah. Some pancakes,” he said, “but I’m still hungry, I think.”

The truth was that his stomach grumbled at the thought of food. MK wasn’t sure if it was a hungry grumble, a protesting one, or a grumble for the sake of grumbling. (Pancakes were one of MK’s favorite snacks. They were flaky and savory and always had a spicy kick in the ones Pigsy made. The thought made MK’s stomach growl again– maybe he was hungry. But more pancakes didn’t sound very good right now. Maybe something sweet to balance the savory. Like a cake or something– but without any frosting, just the cakey bits– did that sound good?) MK’s stomach rumbled again.

He watched his mentor pour water into the cups, swirl it, and then let it all spill onto the ground. The water lay there uselessly; its every attempt to seep into the mud thwarted by a push and pull that MK couldn’t see. The day was warm.

It had just rained yesterday; heavy, like a true force of nature; so the precipitation had become trapped in the crevices of the cliff. MK had spent most of that day hunched over the serving counter, stalking the clock as far and few customers came in. He had gone straight to bed that night.

So why in the world did he still feel tired?

“Why did you do that?” asked MK.

Monkey King simply raised a brow.

“I mean… with the water. You poured it onto the ground.”

“Err… well, I was just rinsing it out. All water comes back to the ground anyways. I was just speeding up the process,” Monkey King said. He put the leaves into the gaiwan, poured the water into it, and placed the lid on top. “I’m not much of a tea-maker, but I know how to do it. It was one of Master Subodhi’s lessons on the soul.”

“Your first master?” asked MK, perking up.

Monkey King gave him an unimpressed smile and a quirk of his eyebrow.

“Ah– I mean, that’s cool. That’s cool.”

MK turned to look at the gaiwan. It was a pretty, white porcelain rimmed with cyan; some of that bright paint rubbed away by time. Lotus flowers decorated one side of the bowl, but was left blank on the other. Monkey King shifted the lid back, one careful finger pressed into the dip of the lid, and poured the water onto the ground.

“Rinsing again,” he said at MK’s darting pupils, “the leaves this time. That’s how you do it.”

“That’s a lot of rules,” said MK.

“Mmhm,” hummed Monkey King, looking distastefully at the gaiwan as he poured in more water. He fixed the lid and then looked back up at MK. “I’ll go order something. Could you pour the tea into the cups in uhhh… twenty-ish seconds?”

“Uh–”

“Thanks bud.”

And then, with a swish of his cheeky tail, the Monkey King vanished into the house just a few steps from the training grounds (likely for his computer. MK had never seen him with a phone before. Did he have a phone? Like some retro one with the curly wires and the spinny numbers? Or would the legendary Monkey King have a flip phone? Like a Nokia or something. Were Nokias flip phones? MK’s first phone was a flip phone he inherited from Pigsy. Maybe he could dig it up somewhere in his room, and it would be a Nokia. Once, when Mei’s parents had gone through an enterprise phase, they had tried to develop mobile phones. Mei was their beta-tester, and after the phone had overheated on an unbearable summer day and mistaken MK as a burglar, that was the end of that . Maybe lasers weren’t the best self-defense tool on a phone).

…

MK blinked and looked down at the gaiwan.

“…Oh crap!”

MK picked up the lid, watched it slip from his fingers, and went for a mad dive onto the dirt after it, his hip shoving the innocent table as he did.

Everything tumbled to the ground.

‘…CrrsnAP’ went the table leg after it was all over.

“Shut up,” groaned MK.

“Uhh, yeah, you know what? Make it a to-go. Just leave it where it begins to go a little off-road. I’ll know where to find it,” said a voice above MK.

He peeled his face off of his shameful grave and glanced up to where Monkey King was looking down at him, phone snug against his ear.

“You do use a Nokia,” said MK faintly.

Monkey King’s face pinched.

“Yup. Thanks. Bye,” ‘ beep’ .

MK sighed, eyes drifting down as his cheek pressed against the humid ground. Now that he was there, it was beginning to get comfortable. His abdomen, securely pressed onto the warmth of the sun-bathing mud, didn’t even hurt as badly anymore.

After a moment, Monkey King began to move. His footsteps were soft and careful as they went around MK and stopped to assess the damage from the other side. Then, either with his tail or hands, he righted the table (albeit missing a leg), which croaked along. MK finally lifted his head up at the sound of tinkling ceramic.

“Is it broken?”

“Not anymore,” said Monkey King.

The quaint little gaiwan clinked pleasantly against the table as Monkey King set it down. Not a single crack, scratch, or blemish remained– not even the smudging of the paint that hadn’t even been MK’s fault. The cyan paint streaked along the edges like an endless sky; a sky that, in MK’s opinion, felt unnervingly fake.

“I didn’t mean to break it,” said MK. He carefully got up to his knees, the mud coming with him as he went. The comfort MK had before in his defeat had worn off. Now, the mud was only a grimy shell on his skin.

“It’s okay to have an off-day,” said Monkey King, distantly. His somber expression, though something MK had drawn countless times in his sketchbook, looked wrong on the real thing. He sighed and then smiled, “It’s why we’re sitting here having tea.”

MK winced and looked at the puddle of tea being consumed up by the mud. Monkey King quickly knelt down at the table to distract him.

“That’s okay, bud. We’ll just make more, okay? No shortage of tea leaves any time soon.”

So Monkey King, eyeing the gaiwan more than he was looking at MK, eventually succeeded in brewing a cup of tea. MK had the first sip (he learned that it was oolong tea. It was fresh and slightly sweet in the way roses are to the nose, going down MK’s throat like the purest of water) and then he watched his mentor take a sip with not nearly as much vigor.

The cyan of the gaiwan, in the corner of MK’s eye, phased into teal to cerulean to turquoise as the afternoon went on. His headache could have been making him see things, but he dared not to mention it anyways.

On that day, the gaiwan was in one perfect piece; not quite a balance, but some strange mix between duty and acceptance.

MK was by no means the norm.

He wouldn’t call himself a completely law-abiding citizen (he got into fights often (with demons) and sometimes drove airships without a license (not like that mattered, but there was probably a law for that somewhere)), but the complications that came with it wasn’t something MK could explain.

Teas that are brewed differently taste differently, even if they share the same leaves.

The gaiwan was never something Pigsy had taught him how to use. Pigsy never brewed tea often, and defaulted to an open cup when the situation arised. MK drank oolong tea a number of times in his life.

The taste of oolong was clear, but never airy; sweet, but like how cane sugar is to coffee. Sometimes it was fruity. Sometimes it wasn’t.

“You okay, bud?” asked Wukong.

MK blinked and looked up at Wukong, who was loitering around the mouth of the waterfall, favoring one foot over the other, but looking otherwise better than he’s looked in the past few weeks. The water rumbled on and on. It sprayed him and his mentor and left specks of rainbows in its wake.

“Yeah,” said MK, “just trying to figure out how to use this.”

The gaiwan looked as perfect as the day Monkey King fixed it. MK, in his curiosity, had taken the time during Wukong’s recovery to return to the training grounds in search of it; the nostalgic, little place just on the side of Flower Fruit Mountain. The house, half-crumbled from the battle, had taken him all day to sift through. The gaiwan trapped underneath it shone and winked in the setting sun like it had found the whole thing amusing.

Maybe it had been broken, but MK hadn’t been there to see it. Maybe some kind of friendship magic brought it back together. Maybe it was something completely out of their control, unexplainable and unblameable. Whatever the case, MK tucked tea leaves into the bowl now and experimentally put the lid on for it to brew.

Wukong neared, spooked-like but curious, his tail twitching as he eyed what MK was doing. Maybe he had missed a step or used the wrong technique or something, but Wukong didn’t say anything.

MK’s muscles felt worn; like they hadn’t completely woven back together. Now that he wasn’t worried out of his mind about his lack of company after Azure’s defeat, his body was quick to remind him of its current state: completely and utterly sore and unrested (The monkeys of Flower Fruit had been very cross with him. That was how he ended up in a dead sleep for almost half the day).

“You said some time ago that Master Subodhi brewed tea as a lesson for the soul,” said MK.

“It was more complicated than that.”

Wukong unstuck himself from his spot and crossed his arms, looking down at MK’s little setup. It seemed for a moment that he wouldn’t continue, but then he took a breath, and MK easily recognized it as one preparing to carry heavy words.

“It was more about the gaiwan than the tea; and not really about the soul, but about… well, where oneself stands, I guess. I thought it was a boring lesson– I mean, it wasn’t any of the cool stuff that I had wanted to learn at the time– but I remember it was brought up again when I was a stableboy in Heaven. Some fancy shtick, maybe a party, was going on, and they favored the gaiwan for their tea making,” Wukong sucked air between his teeth as he thought over his words, “It was– hm . Well, I was just about done with lessons. I mean, I spent all that time with Master Subodhi and then blam I’m in Heaven and I still feel like I’m in school? Yeah, okay.”

The waterfall casted a cooling mist around its base that MK suddenly found it difficult to breathe in. He swallowed at his mentor’s downcast expression and sent his tail to snap the building mist into the other direction.

Wukong looked up at him. He leaned one way to catch a glimpse of MK’s surprise appendage, but it had already gone away.

“That’s new,” said Wukong, gently, “where’d you learn that?”

MK pursed his lips, poured the tea into his cup, and then said, “Myself. Was an accident, actually. Couldn’t get it to go away and wrecked my room before I figured it out. Um… what did you do?”

“What?”

“In the story? During the party. Did you… do something to the gaiwan?”

Wukong scoffed lightly and shook his head.

“No, nothing like that. It's just… Something about it, like it couldn’t help but exist, I guess? ‘Hold the gaiwan like this, Wukong. Handle the lid with care, Wukong. You haven’t covered it properly, Wukong.’ There was always something that bothered me, thinking about it– but I’ve never broken a gaiwan before.”

“Because you’ve always cared about it?” asked MK.

“…No,” drawled Wukong.

MK stared down at the oolong swirling in his cup. It was a warm, sweet orange: like caramel glazed over flan. He ran one finger on its rim, found that it was chipped somewhere, and raised the cup to his lips.

Wukong sniffled the same time MK’s face pinched painfully.

The oolong was watered-down and acrid in his mouth, attacking his taste buds there and then moving its unpleasant attack down his throat. It was like the tingle of cough medicine– lacking its syrupy texture, but intrusive all the same.

“Did you know I was gonna do that?” gagged MK, shaking his head at the bitter, watery mess stinging his tongue. When his mentor didn’t reply, he tilted to look more closely at him, “Monkey King? Did I do something wrong?”

“ No ,” said Wukong, almost immediately.

MK flinched. His hold on his cup, lax and careful at first, tensed until it was pressed into his chest. He looked up at his mentor and then back down to his failed brew.

Wukong, who had found himself standing over the table defensively, slipped down to his knees.

“Oh– sorry… about that,” he cleared his throat and leaned back onto his hands. “I meant that you didn’t do it properly, so… yes . The first brew is just a rinse, remember? It won’t taste as good. Let’s try again.”

MK nodded, taking the gaiwan and emptying the water into a spare bowl he had dug up from Pigsy’s cupboard. He shook it for good measure (he got a slightly worried look at that) and then plopped off the lid to replace the water.

Wukong was beginning to relax now. He dared to rest his head on his palm, following MK’s movements so intensely that he was beginning to get stage fright. Then, before MK could crumble under the pressure, Wukong said, “Brewing tea is a skill. It doesn’t matter if you don’t get it right. Sometimes, getting it wrong is better.”

With an innocent blink, Mk replied, “Do you really think that?”

The monkeys of Flower Fruit ruffled the leaves of trees around them. If MK listened close enough, he could hear every chirp and coo and squeak between the residents. Monkeys loved to be mischievous– not through any ill-being, but because they were clever enough to recognize things that even he took some time figuring out.

MK was mischievous. MK cared about Wukong.

Carefully, he picked up the gaiwan and pressed his finger improperly onto the dip in the lid as he poured. The lid trembled. Maybe, if it had a mouth, it wouldn’t use it for speaking; maybe, if it did, it would only use it to snarl and sneer and smile with all its teeth. Maybe MK would have bowed down to its authority and taken everything to heart as if it were a world and not just a step on a staircase. MK tripped on air often; not by his own fault, but only to bend to the unpredictability of ground and man.

The tea spilled into Wukong’s cup. The lid, in his recklessness, tumbled behind it. Wukong leaned out to catch it. It bounced, twisted, and spun in his hands, like a little cloud that split despite all efforts. Helpfully, MK sprang up to help him.

MK caught the lid on one side the moment Wukong caught the other.

“Well, would you look at that?” laughed MK, about to say something about his impeccable reflexes– and then the lid cracked and split through the middle.

“Ah…?”

“Ooh...”

“What even…?”

“ Snrk ,” Wukong’s head snapped up in surprise, watching MK break into a fit of laughter, “PHhh– ahahah ! I didn’t even know that could happen ! Pigsy calls me clumsy, but I think this might have been the weirdest one by far. Um… maybe it was already beginning to crack?”

“I…” stammered Wukong. “I… don’t think…?”

MK pulled close his half of the lid. He tossed and turned it in his hand and peeked sheepishly at his mentor.

“I think we might be able to fix it,” he said, puzzling back his piece to Wukong’s, who had left his hand out hovering in what was probably shock. “With tape, maybe? Glue?” he tilted his head with a smile, “magic?”

Wukong’s face suddenly felt warm in embarrassment, as if something was going on that he wasn’t quite aware of, and he had just-so-happened to be the main attraction of the whole thing. He blinked once, then twice, and then brought his hand down to really look at the lid.

It was strange to hold it like this. The ceramic where it had cracked was crumbly as he ran his thumb over it. The open wound did not bleed; there was no crying or great summoning of mountains or curses or golden fillets. Wukong blew lightly and watched a puff of dusty white gaiwan pieces get lost in the waterfall’s light mist.

“No, it’s okay,” said Wukong, putting it down on the table and cradling his full cup with both hands. He looked down at the warm tea and took a tentative sip. Something like honey swished in his mouth, punchy and passionate like the first fruits of the summer season. He swallowed, smacked his lips, and then passed it over to MK to share with a smile. “It’s a little unnecessary anyway.”

[xeenybobean]

"Feelings."

Pavitr Prabhakar x Reader

Prompt from anonymous on google forms: Y/N returns to their hometown and realizes they still like Pavitr. 

Word Count: 3k

Tags: @bluenotes75

Note: To be honest when I thought about writing this I instantly thought about the little mermaid's original back story where the prince falls in love with another girl and the little mermaid was tasked to kill him to stay human, if she couldn’t she’d remain a mermaid forever, but since she loved the prince so much she couldn’t bare to do it so she jumped into the ocean. To me, I feel like the lyrics of the song just match this whole idea about feelings and Pavitr doesn’t feel the same way. 

Lowkey don't see barely any stories on my lovely sweetheart darling Pavitr so here you go, my baby! :)

Summary: you've liked the cute boy Pavitr for quite some time ever since you guys became friends you instantly started to like him with his wide smile, his warm positive energy, and the way his family accepted you into their family with open arms just made it better. Having tea time with Pavitr and his aunt just made your day. You thought you guys had something serious together, but you couldn’t have been more wrong than you’ve ever been in your whole life. Soon your heart was crushed you found out you were moving and that you might not ever see the man you love ever again..the day you left was heartbreaking for both you and Pavitr, he was heartbroken and didn’t want to let you go, he loved your company and you were his only friend from his universe, he couldn’t bare to lose you. But yet you slipped through his fingertips like quicksand... 

You never thought you’d come back to your hometown until it was summertime, just to be heartbroken once more like the night you left just to come back to your hometown to see the one you love with someone else... 

⚠Warning!!⚠: Sadness |Lots of angst|Sadly no fluff |Moving on to some type of closure?|Maybe? I’m not sure lol|

How long has it been since you left your hometown? The man you loved to the moon and back? It's been 4 years. Ever since your parents got a new job and you got accepted in the most prestige school ever and in those 4 years you’ve learned proper etiquette, manners, ways to respond to certain situations, learning to correct your posture, learning the difference between a desert spoon and a soup spoon. And throughout all those 4 years you’ve changed from a carefree person to a more strict and proper young lady but in those 5 years there was only one thing and one thing only that made you push harder towards your goals, it was him. 

Pavitr..he made your heart race, he made you, you,  he was hurt the other half, well you’d like to think of it that way at least. The night you left just tore a hole in your heart as you hugged your best friend and your long-time crush as he cried into your shoulder holding you as close as he could ever hold anyone. He begged over and over again begging you to stay with him, that you needed to stay, he offered you to stay at his parent's place but you couldn’t accept, not because you didn’t want to but because your parents didn’t want you to stay here in the first place. 

“Please don’t go N/N” you heard your best friend begging you to stay as his hold squeezed around your body. You didn’t know what to do o say, your words were stuck in your throat as they grew dry all you did was hold your best friend not knowing when you could ever see him again. Here is his voice. Seeing his smile. Feeling his touch. This was the final time you’d be seeing all those things and hearing all those things. 

That night still haunts you to this day as you walked out of the train station with a language in your hand as you dragged it off the train as began walking to find the nearest cab. You were finally home. After 4 long years, you couldn’t wait to see him. After so long you missed playing with his hair, holding him close, seeing him smile, laughing with him, smiling with him, and heck even talking to him!! Even though you were now proper you knew you could loosen up all those 4 years of hard work in one second when you saw him. 

You scrolled through your phone through your old texts with Pavitr and you found the address he sent you a while ago. You walked out of the crowded station and called for a taxi cab and to your surprise one came right away, something was looking up you could feel it in your stomach as butterflies emerged from them filling your body with joy and excitement.

The only reason you were back home in the first place was that you had a 6-month break and you couldn’t wait to spend it with your best friend who was still a crush you’d longed to see for so long.. Even though you both texted here and there it wasn’t the same... The taxi driver took your leagues as you sit in the back seat of the fresh-smelling cab handing him the addresses and he began to drive and of course traffic. But you couldn’t help but smile you missed every single detail of your home town from the food, heck even the traffic that you hated the most living here made you smile! You were in such a good mood nothing could stop or change your feeling. 

You looked out the window falling in love with the city you grew up in all over again as you decided to rest your eyes to pass the time and to your surprise you were now in front of your favorite place in the whole city his home. You got out of the cab and tipped the driver as he handed you your belongings, you thanked him and bowed slightly as you quickly ran up the stairs to knock on the door only to be greeted by the woman who’d watch over you the most. 

Her eyes widened as she quickly pulled you into a huge tight hug not even letting you speak as she held you close to her pressing kisses all over your forehead. 

“Welcome back N/N! It's been so long! How was the flight huh? Did you get here safely?” she pulled away and cupped your face moving your face back and forth. 

“My you have gotten prettier over the years I see! Does Pavitr know you here? he’s going to be thrilled!” she said as she squeezed you tighter. You smiled and hugged the Pavitr’s aunt tighter as you both pulled away she quickly took your stuff. 

“It's nice to see you again aunty..” you spoke softly as you walked in taking your shoes off as your body melted with the scent of the species you’ve missed so much. You finally felt at home again as you closed the door behind you gently as Pavitr’s aunt put your stuff near the couch.

“He’s on the balcony per usual! I’m sure you know the way hm?” she said flashing you a smile as she went back to the kitchen, she knew you had a thing for her son but she couldn’t bare to tell you her son has fallen in love with the police captain's daughter Gayatri. She couldn’t bare to tell you the sad news since you knew it would crush you like a rock...

You quickly nodded as your heart began to race faster and faster with each step you took up the stairs you found yourself practically running up the apartment complex’s stairs to the main balcony where you saw the man you loved and missed the most. You smiled widely, you were going to say his name but you stopped. Your eyes grew wide as you saw him kissing a girl.

The man you loved... For the longest time even when you were apart were kissing another girl. You bit your cheek harshly as you stood a good distance between the two of them watching them. The way he stared at her. The way his hand was placed on her cheek caressing it ever so gently like she was the most precious thing in the world was what you’ve wanted all your life. You were conflicted with emotions. You've waited so long to tell him. You waited so long, 4 years for god sake just to come back to your hometown to see him kissing another girl. How you wished it was you.

You didn’t even notice the tears running down your cheeks as you touched your cheeks to wipe them gently. You didn’t know if you wanted to call out to him anymore but.. God you missed him so much. You shifted slightly causing his spider senses to go off as he turned around to see you.

His eyes grew wide as he rubbed them thinking you were just an illusion but no you were real. He quickly got up on his feet as his girlfriend Gayatri looked at him in confusion she then looked forward to seeing you. She's heard about you through Pavitr. 

“N/N?.. Is that..really you?..” he asked as he felt a lump in his throat as he started at you from a distance. You couldn’t form words all you did was cry as you opened out your arms for him widely and boy did he run.. He ran like no tomorrow..he tackled you to the cold hard ground as he cried his heart out. He was so happy to see you again. To hold you..to hear your voice. To smell your sweet scent. He’s missed everything about you.

You lost your balance when he tackled you to the ground, you instantly wrapped your arms around him hugging him tightly as you humanly possibly could as he dug a hole in your neck laughing slightly as tears rushed down his eyes as your hands made their way to his hair as you ran your fingers weakly through them. 

“I’ve missed you so damn much you have no idea how long I’ve waited to hold you again..” you mumbled softly as you felt him hugging you tighter, he didn’t care that his girlfriend saw him like this he just cared about you right now. You chuckled slightly as your tears ran down your face faster, you felt like you were in a dream. Not the best dream but you were glad to hold him so close to you all over again. 

“I’ve missed you more. I-i thought you’d never come back again..” he whispered into your ear as he looked at you and wiped your tears slightly as he pressed his forehead against yours as you both laughed, just happy to be in each other presence after years apart. Well everyone except you, boy were you crushed.

You were crying for two reasons. One because you were happy to see the man you liked for years but you were sad and crushed..like a building had fallen on you and crushed your whole heart because his heart doesn’t belong to you.

He noticed that you were still crying as he continued to wipe your tears then getting off of you and helping you up. You got up and saw his girlfriend walking to the two of you. She looked nice and had a warm smile on her face, you noticed Pavitr walking away from you to wrap his arm around his girlfriend's waist as he introduced her to you. 

“Babe this is my beast friend Y/N! The girl I told you about!” he said smiling widely at you as she did the same extending her hand out to you. God, you wanted to slap it away and run but you maintained composure and smiled weakly

“Hey, my name is Gayatri it’s nice to finally meet the girl my boyfriend has been talking about nonstop!” she said chuckling slightly as you shook her hand gently and then pulled away. You felt your stomach in knots, that was supposed to be YOU not HER, YOU. you inhaled gently and tried to put a smile on your face but god was it so hard. 

“Nice to meet you... Didn't think Pavitr could manage to pull someone as beautiful as you.” you teased slightly as the three of you laughed slightly you being the last one to stop as you looked down to the ground, Pavitr and Gayatri noticed this as she kissed his cheek telling him she’d be downstairs with his aunt. 

“It was nice meeting you Y/N” she spoke softly as she left the balcony leaving you two alone. When she left you instantly felt a pair of warm hands caressing your face making you look up. You met his warm gaze and god that was your breaking point... You couldn't help but cry as his expression turned into a worried one as he moved closer to you continuously wiping your teasers trying to calm you down. 

“Hey hey... What's wrong... Talk to me..” he said softly. Now was your chance to tell him how you felt for him after all this time..you inhaled sharply as your eyes grew red and puffy, and you bit your inner cheek harshly as you looked away from his warm gaze you’ve missed all of this time. You took a mental note and tried to hype yourself up telling yourself you could do this, this was your chance to tell him how you truly felt. Here it goes... 

“I love you,” you spoke quickly as you moved his hands away from your face, your back turning to face him as he stood there making sure he heard correctly. 

“Y-you love me N/N?..” you heard his voice and his tone sounding confused like he never thought you would ever like him, you were like a sister to him, and he never thought those moments spent with you were because you had romantic feelings towards him. He placed a hand on your shoulder gently and made you look at him and his heart broke, he could see the pain and anger in your eyes... You were a mess and you knew it. You didn’t know if you could even say another word to him without breaking down as you put your lip harshly trying to hold your tears back. 

“Yes, I love you, you idiot! Who wouldn’t love you? You are so sweet, kind, and caring, you always know how to make me laugh! Cheering me up! Being by my slide!..being you..” You looked away as you wiped your tears, his gaze fixated on you made the knot in your stomach grow, you felt like you were going to throw up right here right now. Pavitr didn’t know what to say but all he did was stare and try to process how much you loved him... He moved his hands from your shoulders to hold your face in your hands as he stared into your glossy eyes... He could tell how bad this was eating you up. 

“I love you so much... But.. but you have someone else..someone who you love and it’s not me..” You got out of his grasp and he hesitated... He wanted to hold you so bad but you slipped out of his hands like grains of sand like the night you left... He felt a knot in his stomach as he saw your back facing him. 

“She loves you..and you love her. I’m glad you are happy you deserve it, my love..” you mumbled softly as you completely broke down you needed to leave now. 

“I need to go,” you said quickly as you ran off of the balcony onto the staircases your hands gripped onto the railing to support you as you were now downstairs, Gayatri looking at you with sadness in her eyes.. She felt bad but decided to say nothing. Pavitr chased after you and watched you grabbing your luggages. No, he couldn’t lose you again. He stood in front of the door blocking it as your eyes met his. There was no way in hell he would lose you and not do anything... He refused to go down that path once more but you knew deep down you needed to get out of here..you shook your head. 

“No. I am not losing you again N/N..please.” His cheeks were stained with tears as you looked at him your heart just broke into a million pieces as you tried to pry him off of the door he wouldn’t budge..his voice was cracking as he cried, and he stared at you begging for you to stay. 

“N/N I can’t and will not lose you again. Please... I-i’m begging you.” you stared into his eyes searching them as your own grew glossier by the second... You couldn’t bare to see him like this... You caused his pain and you just couldn't live with someone you loved knowing you still had feelings for him. You knew deep down he will never love you, not in any universe were you two together..and you knew it... You were destined to love him and he was destined to love someone else...

“I’m sorry Pavitr... B-but it’s for the best. I-I’m sorry I love you with all my heart..” you said as you placed a kiss on his forehead. His eyes grew wide as he stared at you. He was about to say something but before he knew it you knocked him out with a combat technique he taught you a while back before you left your hometown. You watch him falling to the floor as his girlfriend rushed to his side.

You gathered your belongings and rushed out of the apartment tears stinging your eyes as he quickly gained consciousness once more and got out of his girlfriend's grasp as he chased after you calling out your name over and over again but nothing. He tried to grasp your hand but you were too quick to get into the cab as he watched you drive off... He lost you again...

Even though I am not happy... I'm happy to see you happy..even though it is not with me... 

[tezzbot]

Okay.. so... fairly long post under the cut with the sort of background to my Sonic Underground AU!! If anyone's interested fjdgv I have thought about it a Lot lol

So basically, The background is that Eggman has definitely been up to shit since before Sonic was born lol and one of his sort of things when he I guess started out in villainy ? was he started trying to claim land and take over so that he could build his cities and theme parks and factories and what have you and rule over everything. So, after claiming some untouched land he started attacking “Mobian'' settlements, (not sure whether to stick with Mobian or what but the word gets my point across so I’m using it now sfgdh) and I guess started working his way up until he found Christmas Island, which is the small Kingdom Aleena ruled over at the time. This caused the Kingdom to fight back and started a war with Robotnik. However. Obviously the warzone was no place to be raising the Very recently born heirs to the throne (the three who would grow up to be Sonia Sonic and Manic, they might’ve had different names back then lol) and so Aleena with a Very heavy heart sent the three Far away, they had them sent to a dinky little orphanage in a fairly distant zone, intending to pick them back up when the war was over.

Unfortunately, Very early on in the triplet’s stay at the orphanage, when they were still practically babies, an unfortunate cot placement led to Manic being kidnapped sometime in the dead of night (don’t ask why they did it I just think it’s funny love and light). He was taken to a nearby city, and somehow managed to endear himself to Ferral, the leader of one of the larger sort of crime rings active there. This is where he learned to get by and live and thrive, little crime family they love each other and rag on each other so much smile smile smile.

Sonic stayed in the orphanage a lot longer than Manic, but doesn’t really remember his time there all that much. As soon as Sonic figured out how to, he ran. Ran as fast and as far as he was able. Ran until he had no idea how to get back. But he'd not a guilt on his conscience. He was free, for the first time felt truly free. He learned how to survive on his own and met a little two tailed fox cub and his life played out pretty much exactly the same as it does in the main line continuity :)

Sonia is the only one of the three who has any memory of staying in the orphanage and was the only one to leave there by regular means dgfhfg. At about five years old, she was one of a few girls from across the continent to be chosen to attend and live at an all girls school where they would grow into proper ladies™, being taught etiquette and manners and so on. She managed a fairly cushy lifestyle here but was never truly happy there. She obviously has her besties like Mindy, but it always felt far too restrictive and (figuratively) cold. So while she does do well there, she is slightly prone to getting in trouble and feels kind of belittled and invisible among her peers at times

So in the triplet’s maybe 3rd year? The war on Christmas Island ended and the Mobians were unfortunately forced to go into hiding. Aleena made it out and went into her own hiding in the form of laying low in a residential area in a nearby city, and attempted to blend in there for a few years before making the trip to finally reunite with her children. Unfortunately by the time she gets there, all three are gone :( Even though the orphanage may know where Sonia is, she feels as though she has failed all three as their mother and wouldn't be able to face any of them (despite the fact they're like. 6 year olds lol), and so retreats back to her city home.

Until, over a decade later, Aleena sees the world renowned hero Sonic the Hedgehog that she hears so much about, (maybe he’s just saved that part of the city from a badnik attack or something like that) and there is just… something about him that is so uncannily like her Bernie… His heroism and humility right down to his mannerisms, the being blue also adds to the effect. And… Aleena is not one to get her hopes up, but the chance of this being one of her missing children after all these years…

Then I’m thinking maybe, she is wearing the equivalent of the three medallions and, maybe as she gets closer to Sonic one of them has some sort of magical reaction ? or something I’m not actually sure. But something DOES confirm to Aleena that This is one of her kids oh my god!! And he’s just like his (other) mother… Aleena gets overwhelmed and ends up not talking to him. Sonic maybe notices someone in a long flowy jacket running away from the crowd, but gets distracted by the many other thankful citizens around him to really take note of it lol

This is when Aleena writes her letter to Sonic. She looks him up, tries very hard to find out where he lives. Ultimately coming up with nothing she’s like IS MY BOY HOMELESS?? But then what comes up eventually is a plethora of small garages and laboratories under the name Dr. Miles Prower and is like Oh! An apprentice maybe :) lol and so she rolls the dice and chooses one of those locations at random and hopes her message gets to him soon.

This is just the leadup to what would be the "main plot" of the AU and I do have more for it!! So if this like. Text based way of explaining my ideas is alright I can share more from the google doc if ppl are interested!! And maybe I'll doodle some stuff for it here n there who know (seems likely tho lol)