#im not even in the winter village!

[lavaburnsso]

wearing our Christmas best 🎄

[minglana]

so crazy seeing my cousins post aesthetic pics of my village street. maam thats a rundown house with the roof caved in next to the ugliest house in the village

[justatransman00]

Okay, but why does "Daybreaker Boogie", by The L-Train and 4everfreebrony, scream Heisenberg. Like not just his energy, that be him. And like emagine he's singing it to Ethan. And the part that's like "I hope I make it crystal clear, I'm just the better version of sister-dear~" he's totally flipping of Alcina. (And Alcina is doing that *Lin Beifong is over it* face)

[running-with-kn1ves]

BELONGINGS

Orc x Kidnapped human reader (Gender neutral)

A/N: Literally NO ONE asked for this but I kept seeing all those shrek/swamp romance tiktoks and got inspired to do some orc stuff. Man I love orcs... like big dumb bugs personified. (also ignore the experimental latin pet names idk what im doing)

CW: Kidnapping, forceful holding, arson, raiding, kind of just angst fluff?

Word count: 2600

You knew the excitement of your life would never move past the blandness of day-in day-out work to survive, not as one without any bestowed or taught brow-raising talents that could lift you away from the mundane daily life you held in the wispy fields of the woodlands. 

As a realist you concurred that you’d never be the breadwinner in your family, maybe not the strongest when hauling crops, or the smartest when it came to solving passed down arithmetic equations from your cousins’ old school books. But as a child you always took comfort in the thought ‘at least I won’t be chained down, won’t be tied to some ugly pig farmer for a couple shillings.’ Your family valued you that much; well-- your working hands, that much. ‘One more body is one more mouth to feed’ you were told time and time again, but you pulled your weight and then some. 

You had little time to think outside of planting, weeding, bathing and eating. Meals and getting rid of the dirt covering your soles that you were scolded for after hours of being in the damp pastures were the only down time you had to yourself, not surrounded by the screaming nieces and nephews you were expected to take care of when the elder of your family members eventually passed from whatever disease ran rampant in the village the coming winter. You prepared your life, prepared for taking care of others and continuing your hard work in growing what you needed to survive, and selling what you didn’t. 

Unfortunately, that humdrum future was wiped out by swirling flames and the braying of stallions of mountainous size. They came in, trampling the greening cranberry bush you were planning to keep all to yourself, and the cabbages your family would have relied on for meals for the next two months before winter fell. 

Persimmon trees were burnt to crispy thorned stumps, the lush of your family’s acres now shredded to flecks of dead grass and muddy hoof prints, along with humanoid footsteps far too large to resemble any of the humans or disfigured hybrids in your teensy rural hamlet. Who were these unwelcomed strangers, the enormous creatures of the night that disrupted the only human civilization for miles around? You remained clueless for the entirety of being ripped out of your bed, continuing to be hauled over some olive-colored shoulder and thrown into a sack on the back of a wagon. 

“This one.” You heard, right before your dirty finger nails were pulled away from your twin beds fading sheets you desperately tried to keep. You had even managed to bring a small, lumpy pillow along with you, the creature that slung you over their shoulder leaving no assumption of a notice. You witnessed the still-burning remnants of your frail thatched home, as the silhouette of a muscular man lowered a flamed stick to its leftovers. 

The entirety of the bumpy ride to wherever your captors were bringing you to, you could only think of the fires holding onto the greenery of your land, of the dirt and rubble and smoke that clawed at your feet when you tripped into the wagon, burnt air choking you as a baby screamed out for its mother. 

Hours must’ve passed before you were brought into this musky, dank room with other fading faces from your village, but it only felt like a few moments ago that you heard the crackling of a fiery tree crushing rows of perking crops. 

The snapping of fingers nearly as grimy as your own blocked your recollection of clouded smoke and angry flames, bringing your attention back to the leather hut you sat domestically within. It was damp and dark inside, the light of torches outside being the only form of light. That, and the reflection of the metal on the warrior in front of you. He turned back, thumbing toward you as he looked at a similar creature.

“Agh, its no use, practically fucking deaf this one. Sure you don’t want one of the mothers?” 

The other orc slapped his fellow warrior on the shoulder with a hearty laugh. 

“No, my friend. Besides, sweet things’ only other option is Brutus. Don’t think he could last with one of these poor creatures without splitting it in two; ‘specially this one.” 

You were suddenly and acutely aware of the orcs conversation, now that your fate was being so clearly decided in front of you. 

The first, far sootier orc patted his fellow brethren on the chest as he turned away with a look that showed he was hardly convinced. Yet, he still walked out of the tented hut, ducking slightly to fit under it. 

You watched him leave, feeling a sense of relief as the threat had been removed. And yet, there was still one so prevelantly in front of you. 

“Hey there.” A guttural, almost faltering voice murmured to you. 

Eyes growing wide, you gripped harder onto the smushed pillow in your lap, instinctively leaning your upper body backward to get away from the orcish face right in front of you. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” The orc gruffed, falling to a crouch as he watches you slide to the edge of the hut’s leather wall. “Just wanna see you up close.”

He consumed the entirety of your fearful attention, his existence like a heavy weight in the room as the quiet tension aimed at him. You pushed your head painfully against a wood pole behind the leather walls, trying to morph your body any distance away that would provide you a miniscule fraction of comfort. But none came, especially not when a sudden warm finger pushed into your cheek. The green thumb pulled your upper lip, showing the ends of your teeth. Your other cheek smushed into your eye as the orc did the same to the other side, observing your poor excuse for chompers compared to his large, well-groomed tusks. 

“Guess these’ll do. You can atleast chew meat, right?” he pulled your jaw open gently, making your lips part. “Don’t wanna have to feed you like a baby bird; though, that wouldn’t be the worst of troubles.” 

You slapped his hand away, grimacing at the idea of being fed by this beast-creature. 

“I can eat perfectly fine.” You grumble, noticing how stiff the orcs arm was, still holding out beside your face as it rests dejected. “What does that matter, aren’t you going to eat me anyway?”

You keep a frown on your face, glaring up at the crouched brute. 

He let out a hearty laugh, those around you turning away from their miserable memories to face the strident disturbance. 

“So cute, as if you’d be enough to feed an orcling!” He let out another chestful of a laugh, grabbing at your cheek this time with a pinch. “My little to-be spouse, I knew you’d be worth the trouble.”

Wincing in pain, your fingers came up to try and pry his rough, printless thumb off your salty skin. 

“So adorable,” He throatily squealed, dragging you closer by the cheek to stumble into his chest. The only thing covering the caverned flesh of deep holes and ravined slices in his skin were straps of bull leather, and the furs of cottontails sewn to form a thin shawl around his bulky shoulders. 

He smelled of a foreign musk, the slight piquant scent of his skin being swallowed in by your nostrils as your lips smushed against the dip in the middle of his chest. Something sharp poked into the side of your face as you were held tightly against the orc, making you muffle against him to let you go. 

“You’re right you’re right; we should have some privacy-- and you, should get a chance to see your new home. My home.” He huffed against your ear, humid breath making your neck sweat as tusks touched the top of your head. “Name’s Xerxes, don’t forget it-- make sure you tell it to any orcs that try n’ talk to you.”

“Wait now--” Your aimed attempt of protesting was cut wrongly short by the sudden grab of your ankles, Xerxes beginning to stand back up as he dragged you with him. Before you knew it you were upside down, hollering as fat fingers made their way around your tibia. A shoulder jutted into your soft stomach, throat heaving as Xerxes began to move. You saw your lone pillow left on the ground, growing farther away as the large legs belonging to your captor moved from below your vision.

With every huge step he took, the harsh necklaces of teeth (which you prayed belonged to animals) dug into your side-- huh, so that must’ve been what was scraping against your face earlier. They clinked together as he walked, his body so rigid and unorthodox that he made a sound whenever he moved, whether it be a snorted grunt or the stomp from his feet, or the shift of his clothes and sheathed weapons. 

Xerxes didn’t open the leather flap of the hut sahe carried you out, walking straight as it brushed across your head. You shut your eyes in an unavoidable flinch, but the orc hardly noticed as he adjusted you on his shoulder, grabbing right below your thighs to hold you steady. 

The brilliant idea of beating and scratching his back enough to get free was so enticing you were on the brink of trying it-- but the orc standing outside the hut you just left, the unfamilliar darkness of the grasslands surrounding you, made you think twice. 

And just like that, your world spun and you were tossed inside what must’ve been another tent, a blur of oranges from fiery torches and grey browns of animal hide entering your vision. Something soft hit your back as you let out an ‘oof!’ from the depths of your chest. 

You scrambled to get back up, alert now that you were thrown in some different environment. But as you clambered to look around, whipping your head from side to side, all you saw were reddish walls of leather and two warm torches, along with the occasional spread of a map or a scribed foreign language.

This tent was much smaller than the last, not meant for a community to rest in. Instead, it was about the snug and spacious size of a room for only one to sleep in. The softness of hairs touched your palms, layers upon layers of furs covering beneath you to create a small lump of a warm, makeshift bed. 

“Look at this,” An excited, guttural voice begged of you. “Been keeping it since forever; saw it in some… abandoned goblin grotto, once. Couldn’t help but take it with me as a memento. As soon as I saw it, I just knew it’d be the perfect gift for my future amasiuncula.”

You could taste the lie on your tongue, as if it was thick in the air once he spoke it. Orcs didn’t just ‘find’ things, the destruction of your teensy village showed you that much. But that didn’t matter, not when the piercing blue of a silk fabric dazzled at you. Why, you had never seen something so plush in your life. It was surely just a base blanket-like piece likely once spooled for the future of becoming some sort of clothing or undergarment; it was still so silkenly smooth nonetheless. Your fingers traced the perfect fabric, its sensation nothing you had ever felt in your years of living as a farming peasant. The softest thing you’d ever touched were the baby calfs your far neighbors had bred into existence. 

“See how soft it is?” Xerxes said with a slight sputter, bringing the silk to your cheek. “Like a cloud… it’s yours. My engagement present.”

You looked back up at him bewildered. “Engagement?” 

“A present. Orc tradition is to offer a gift of richness; the wealthiest thing I could get my hands on.” He covered you in the silk, wrapping your shoulders in it as he pulled you from the furs to his bare lap. You would’ve resisted given the chance, but the orc smugly kept the silk around your arms, bringing the other side of it to wrap around you, pulling it tight; you could hardly move yourself now, shoved in this warm softness of a cocoon; it frightened you. But the tusks pressed against your cheek, chewed lips touching your temple as a tongue gently poked out to swiftly press against your skin, made you fear something else more. “Always wanted a human..” The orc exhaled, audibly sniffing in the scent of your hair. “Been looking for a good once for a while now. One that’ll be nice and docile, a sweet little foal for me to enjoy--” 

You slid your arms against the suffocating silk that was beginning to build heat. “I don’t think i’m what you’re looking for, besides I’m not--”

“Oh but you are,” Xerxes cut you off, leaning his orcish face close to yours to make you look at him. “So.. soft, your skin is like obsidian smoothed and frosted by the tumbling of waves of the sea, so polished and spotted I can’t help but want to keep it in between my fingers.”

Beads hung low by his neck, attached to rings of metal that pierced large holes in his pointed ears. The black and silver balls that dangled would jingle when he moved his head to get a better look at you, along with the wire and metal ornaments wrapped around the braids in his hair. Despite the undercut he fashioned (that you could see better now), a great mane of thick brown hair traveled to his shoulders, tickling your neck as he squeezed you closer. You felt almost like a baby, swaddled and pressed close to his large beating heart that thumped against your shoulder. 

“And oh your dainty little fingers and toes, when I saw them peeking from your bedsheets I knew grabbing them with would be no mistake.”

The orc nuzzled into you with his flat nose, warmth spreading against your cheeks as his sunken face created friction. You always sort of thought your fingers were quite round, your toes a little mishappen, but compared to him, your entirety was merely like a child’s straw doll’s. 

“I don’t want to marry you!” You blurted, freezing as the orc kept himself nestled against you. “I wanna go home, I want to go back to my bed and forget this-- I'm not some little trinket to mate with!"

Xerxes gave you a look. It was so smushy, an embarrassed grin like some pubescent boy watching his crush undress. It was perverted, so snickeringly crude as he bit his lip at the word "mate."

Ahh, he heard his fellow warriors, his chief in command even, discuss their "mates" with lustful wonder and candied eyes that danced with images of their beloved, their spouse. He had never had a person, never had a soft warm thing at night to hold, for him to bully himself into; it was hard to contain the joy inside of him, even with your rapid repeating of "no no no!"

"Mate…" He repeated. 

"I said NOT to--"

"But you said it; and now… I can't get it out of my head, dulcis." Xerxes was snug against your wiggling chest, pressing his freckled cheek against yours to make your lips pucker. He was unbelievably, fiery warm, with a heat under his skin that you wondered was just a layer of embers. 

The mixture of the orcs body heat and the humid equinox night made sweat cling to your dirty skin, the satin coddling you now feeling stickier.  “Now, I s’pose its time we get you looking like a proper orc, smelling like one too. Like me,” Xerxes pressed his tusked mouth below your ear, protruding lips pressing a deep, slightly nipping kiss to below the corner of your jaw. “Get rid of this disgusting… exhilarating human stench.”

[ranbitteeth]

hiii i love ur art and ur fics!!🫶🏽

im desperateee for a reader rails mizu w strap fic😭😭 all the smut i see are of reader bottoming and that makes me hella dysphoric sigh

so so like reader stretching mizu out, lots of whimpering, mizu being nervous, mizu feeling full and claimed, just messy subby mizu taking big strap for the first time plssss😭😭😭😭 maybe some pussy eating foreplay idk, whatever u find best and fun to write. i just need mizu to be a subby bottom its plaguing my mind😵‍💫

A/N: Your wish is my command, dearest! Hhmmm I can never really tell if you guys want a modern/cannon compliant setting— but I find my words flowing easier for the latter. If this isn’t to your liking, I can always write another one! More modern and fluffy

Tags: Possessive!Reader, GN!Reader, Reader is besties w Madame Kaji, DomTop! Reader, Jealous! Reader, Straps, Tried to be historically accurate but one can only do so much research on ancient japanese dildos, takes place sometime before Mizu hops in the boat, Goodbye Sex, Misery.

About 3.8k word count, so I’ll highlight the beginning of the actual smut in red and a star! *

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Parting Ways— To London You Go

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You despised him.

The Blue Eyed Beast of Japan. The onryo. The bastard half-breed that killed the Four Fangs and cut through the Shindo Dojo. Now that was a man that deserved a dog’s death. A humiliating, painful, wretched thing— so much so that pity would spread like disease among even the most hardened of men. A white man had no business in your country. Much less some impure dog, chasing ghosts of white men who had long since fled the island paradise. You believed this yourself, once. The village gossip and fantasies of his approaching death entertained you, excited you. You’d hear of his dishonorable death one evening and you’d think —‘good riddance’.

But no one told you just how much of a darling he was.

You remembered that night to picture clear, the image of his slumped body in the snow so clear in your eyes and memory. His face was twisted into a pained grimace, eyes screwed shut beneath the colored lenses of his glasses— he reeked of blood even in the snowstorm.

Unbeknownst to your family, you brought him inside, ordered your guards to gently place his body in your quarters. The servants made no protest when they saw your insistence on saving this stranger. The wound was seeping a crimson poison onto your floor, red and hot and stinking of blood.

The two of you were alone when his eyelids fluttered open, pained grunts and whimpered muffled by his own teeth against his bottom lip. And you saw it. Blue eyes— unnatural, wrong, and positively lovely. You’ve seen oceans and ponds and skies with less of a dazzling hue. It disgusted you, initially, as the realization of who he was suddenly and violently appeared in your mind.

You hadn’t expected someone so…normal looking.

He did not have a pig’s nose or clammy, sun-abused skin. He was not a beast, giant and ugly— but a man. An injured man, you recalled once his blood stained your palm. Stained your floor, your bed and his clothes. You distantly realized your hands were moving on their own as they undid the binds of his old kimono, and there, beneath the worn, filthy fabric were binds. Not of injury, not of a warrior— but of shame.

Alone in your chambers on a cold winter night amidst the worst storm you’ve ever seen— you knew. The blue-eyed, vicious animal that had earned all of Kyoto’s scorn was in fact a woman.

You adored her.

Your home grew to be a sanctuary to her of sorts. For a being so well despised by the nation, the comforts you provided were scarce luxuries. A bed. A roof. Some semblance of protection. You cared after her like one would a feral pet, a feat which did not go unnoticed. With a blade to your neck and blood painting her hands, she demanded your silence— a vow to never break. As if you’d risk losing such a treasure to the hands of bounty hunters of white men.

The two of you danced with hate for months.

She was a silent spirit, a brewing storm on the distant horizon. At times, you’d catch her eyes on you, other times, she’d notice you doing the same. At times, you’d reach your hand forward and caress the scars on her skin. At times, she’d allow you to– going so far as to present herself.

At times, you’d make love to her. Your depravity was no secret to anyone with ears and working eyes— but your status and wealth made you untouchable. No one but your servants would hear her cries echo from your chambers, and no one but you would see her in the throes of pleasure, head tossed back, expression screwed into one of hesitant bliss and ecstasy.

Or so you thought.

She often returns to you like a dog would weeks after leaving. Loyal, endearing and silent. Whether it was out of some misplaced desire of courtesy or a genuine attachment, you did not know. You’d tell yourself you did not care, but Man would never be born without sin. Madame Kaji, the wonderful hag, would bewitch you in letters with tales of her ladies in the delights her brothel would offer. She mentioned a certain blue-eyed beast in her company in her most previous message. Her letter was pointed, concise, and utterly enraging. By its contents, you would piece together your Mizu’s night with a princess– of all wretched things. After months of silence, alone in your palace with no one but the one and off prostitutes you’d hire and the servants you paid deftly for their loyalty, and the samurai goes off to bed and abandone a lady princess of the Tokunobu clan.

Mizu would not show her face to you until spring. By then, your anger had solidified and festered into an untamable typhoon. As your servants led her to your chambers, Mizu would be standing dead-center in the eye of your storm. Something in her was different. Stronger, yet weaker. Kinder, yet crueler.

“You show your face here again?” You ask cooly, and at least she had the decency to look ashamed, removing her hat. Like this, you could see her properly. (You’d never admit to your anger cooling, but it did.) She does not harden her voice in your presence, but it is quiet, timid, shameful. Before she could open her mouth to speak, one of your servant men approach, head bowed deeply.

“[Title and Name]”, he’d say. Your eyes glance over to him, humming as you granted permission to speak.

“There is a white man inside, bound and immobilized.” He says quickly, bowing his head deeper.

“I only wished for you to be aware.”

Your cold, steely eyes turn to fix Mizu with a chilling stare. She only looks at you head on, taking the challenge. Oh…

“Leave us.” You say, but not before giving an order to boil water over a fire. The door is smoothly slid shut, and the two of you are under the illusion of solitude once more.

“I am to depart for London soon.” Mizu says bluntly, abruptly. You couldn’t have expected anything less. You give no reaction save for a short sigh and two fingers against your temple.

“I am closer to my mission than ever before. I have an informant, I have a boat, I have names.” She talks as if to explain herself, stepping closer in light footsteps, hesitant. “I may not survive through this. I only wished to say goodbye before I leave.”

For a moment, you say nothing. Your mouth is rendered useless as your mind rushes with curses. To the world, to the white men, to Japan, to Mizu, to the hellsite that was London itself. The poisonous concoction of rage and envy that had been brewing for months was bubbling and prickling beneath your skin– only now with the addition of grief.

“This would have been much more convenient in scripture,” you say, voice like hot iron. Mizu’s surprise is tangible, eyes flickering around your features, searching for answers to her questions.

“I adore letters. You know this.” You begin to say, moving from your initial position and circling the room, retrieving several items and placing them on the large expanse of your sleeping bed. You open a box, massive with weight. Inside is parchment, pounds of it. “I collect them.”

You suddenly and harshly shove the box onto the floor, a flurry of parchment and ink spilling at your feet. Mizu seems to shrink, but refuses to cower. Gingerly, you retrieve one excerpt sent just a few months ago from Madame Kaji. You hand it to Mizu, surrounding her. You wait until you are certain she understands what she is reading before you begin to speak.

“Never took you as the brothel-dwelling type.” You say, watching as those demonic, off-putting, oh-so-lovely eyes scan the characters on paper. Your eyes stick to her lips before you remind yourself why you are angry. You imagined those lips entangled with another, and your blood goes cold.

“Nothing happened between me and the princess.” Mizu says, turning to face you. The genuine confusion in her expression is almost insulting. “She meant to kill me that night. Our duel meant nothing. Madame Kaji knows nothing that is true.”

“Not every conflict between you and a stranger is a duel and Madame Kaji is a dear friend of mine.” You reply easily. The hurt in your voice was becoming clearer with each passing syllable.

“You truly believe sailing the seas will come so easy? Do you know how many men I’ve lost in my trades on those voyages? Do you even know what awaits you in London?” You begin to demand these answers, losing the control you pride yourself in as you continue to speak. As a man and a woman, Mizu was nothing but a stupid, lost soul, wandering the earth without an object to attach to. You then gently cup her face in both hands, watching in delight as she melts into your touch.

*“Do you even know how much I’ve wanted you these past months?”

Mizu cannot answer. Her hands raise over yours, fingers brushing against your warmer ones.

“I meant no harm in my absence.” She concedes, round eyes rising to meet with yours. Just like that, the room had shifted. Your eyes darken as they raked along her face and figure, recalling what lay beneath the layers upon layers of fabric she’d use to protect herself.

“You can’t imagine…” You whine, gently undoing the bandages around her neck to expose the delectable skin that lay beneath. Untouched, unseen by all but few. You bury your nose into the crook of her neck before your tongue darts out just to taste flesh and the blood that pumped beneath. Mizu sighs, noticeably relaxing into you. Her arms move to wrap around your neck in a gentle embrace, a position you’ve grown to love and grieve for.

“Gods, how I’ve missed you…” you say, assisting Mizu’s hands and hurriedly undoing her kimono before your hands run hungrily along her skin. Scars, so many more than you remember. A different rage boiled inside of you, protective and not directed to Mizu in the slightest. The two of you move in sync of tangled limbs and warm breaths against open lips. You push her onto your cot, the rage you had felt previously spilling out in the form of hunger. You attack her neck with the teeth in your mouth, suckling and biting down on her white-man skin until cherry-red marks bloom across her neck. She whimpers, coyly craning her neck and exposing herself further– presenting herself. Begging for it. Gods.

“You were away so long I’d almost forgotten what a whore you are…” you coo, undressing her wholly, spreading her legs around either side of your hips. As a surprise to no one, you noticed the particular shininess to the downy hairs on her wet cunt, groaning softly at the sight. Her smell, her taste, her color– you’d spend innumerable nights recalling these things in exquisite detail, going so far as to seek her in other women and finding not one suitable substitution. Your hunger had been building up for months, and now here she was, just as enticing as you remember her. Her teeth nibble down on her finger as she groans into the air.

“[Reader], I haven’t..” she starts, but you shush her before she can continue. Her loyalty only endeared you to her further, and you wanted to remain somewhat angry.

“I know, puppy. You already know who you belong to, don’t you?” You murmured, practically salivating at the sight of her glistening pussy. A whine catches in her throat, allowing you to see in real time her strength and tenacity fail her beneath you. The demon man was nowhere to be found here. You tamed that spirit and contained her in your chambers. You reduced it from a spirit to a man to a moaning, wanton little tart.

“Keep your legs spread and I’ll give you what you came here for.” You order swiftly, to which she nods and complies, spreading her legs further apart. You eagerly adjust your position so that you are resting on your stomach, Mizu’s thighs on either side of your head and your mouth just above her wet cunt. With only an aroused groan as a warning, your tongue descends onto her slick folds, eagerly lapping up the wetness that coated her lovely skin. It was positively obscene, the color and taste of her, the slurping sounds across the room and her whimpering cries as months of stress and anger fell away under your tongue. The poor thing couldn’t even keep her thighs from squeezing around your head, effectively trapping you against her pussy— but it was no matter. Your tongue swirled and massaged what it could reach while the tip of your nose rutted against her clit. Slowly, surely, readily— her raspy, hoarse voice bloomed into something far sweeter, and you could feel the ice around your heart melting. This was the Mizu you knew, without the clothes and glasses and false identity. This Mizu was the one you owned.

You feel her getting close, as it was always obvious with her. You felt her thighs squeezing around your head, felt them shake and tense while her hips bucked against you and her breathing grew more desperate. You feel it, she feels it— she wants it so bad she sobs into her palm. You both know better.

You pull away with a wet, obscene sound, ignoring Mizu’s frustrated groan into her fist. Your lips and chin are wet with her taste and both of your bodies are shining with sweat.

“What? Were you close?” You ask huskily, readjusting yourself so that your body hovers over hers, your fingers pushing in and out of her gushing warmth. You start with two, massaging her insides into relaxation, molding her to your desires. She impatiently pushes her hips against you, holding you in a desperate embrace. You do not hurry, you don’t even respond as you take her lips in yours, letting her taste herself coating your tongue. It was a messy, depraved display— one that made her noticeably wetter around your fingers. Her nails claw into the fabric over your body, tugging it off.

“Take yours off too…” she says in between breaths, eyes half lidded and watery with want.

“You think you can take it already?” You ask slowly, dead serious. Mizu nods, a slow and deliberate thing. Who are you to argue now?

“It’s bigger than the other one. You sure?” You ask again, making slow, hard motions against her wet clit.

“[Reader]…” she gasps, carrying a note of exasperation, her hands now trembling against you. “Please…!”

You laugh, breathless, exhilarated. Your lips gently press against her forehead, a soft ‘wait here’ and a quick trip to the corner of your bedroom later, you retrieve it.

You commissioned this piece long before you knew Mizu would return. Your very own harigata, hard as a tortoise shell, ribbed and heavy in size and weight. You expressed your desire to be able to attach it to yourself to please your lovers and so the artist complied. You held it up with one hand, allowing Mizu to gauge at the weight and size before stuffing it with warm cotton dipped in the previously boiled water at your side. Mizu hasn’t even noticed the servant come in, far too immersed in watching you align the phallus to her soaking cunt. She feels the heat through the tortoise shell and whimpers, hips trembling before she spreads her legs further apart. The head was already pushing against her hole, oh so ready to slip inside. Just as you mean to push yourself in, Mizu makes a strangled little noise and you cease in your tracks.

“Yes?” You ask, already breathless.

“It’s big…” she says, repeating the words you said earlier. You laugh, endeared.

“Yes. You want it smaller?” You ask again, but she shakes her head no.

She licks her dried lips before she swallows. “Don’t hold back.”

Unable to control yourself, you laugh, head falling beneath your shoulders and against her collarbone. Fuck.

“Tell me when you’re ready.”

You feel her nervousness in the tension of her body. As aroused as she was, it had been some time since she’s seen you. You begin with slow, shallow thrusts to get her accustomed to the feel, not going halfway until you hear her get noticeably impatient.

“Hold on, puppy. I don’t want to hurt you…” you say, but you push yourself in deeper to quiet her whimpers. The ribbed surface rutting in and out of her wet heat had its obvious effects. Her knees shake where they are around your hips and her head arches back as she moans, voice breaking. The harigata was doing everything it was designed to do and more. Mizu was falling apart so beautifully and you weren’t even fully inside.

Slower thrusts, still quick but less shallow, and she moves her arms to wrap around your neck in a tender embrace, holding your back to keep herself present. With you.

Some time passes, and you push yourself in further. You feel some natural resistance, Mizu’s breath hitching. You pause and pull away somewhat to check for her expression, finding her eyes wet with tears dripping down flushed cheeks. Her chest is rising and falling in ragged breaths as she struggles to compose herself long enough to get a sentence out.

“No! No, don’t stop. [Reader], please don’t stop,” she whines, cradling your face. You obliged and continued, though far slower than the pace you were going before. Mizu openly whimpers at this loss before she intertwines her legs around your hips by her ankles, keeping you close.

“Could that princess give you what I can?” You say suddenly, still feeling that burst of envy possess you as you rut your hips forward with a precision that only hours of fantasies and failed attempts to recreate Mizu’s body could give you. A shuddering, wanton moan later, Mizu’s hand flies over her mouth. You take that hand by her wrist and pin it to the floor, still thrusting your hips against hers with purpose and vigor. Not all the way in, not yet. “Well?” You ask. You demand.

“N-no…no she can’t…” Mizu damn near sobs, and possession coils in your gut as you push the harigata to reach new depths. Her moans are pitched and broken, you feel and see her falling apart. The poor thing felt so full, unsure what to even make of the delicious stretch your phallus provided or the hot arousal that being beneath you gave her. To some degree, she was yours, and you both knew it.

Feeling pleased with her state as she answered, you finally and gently push yourself in entirely, making her back arch and moans echo across your chambers like they did so long ago. The harigata’s other end pushes against you, makes you groan at the pressure. You look down at her whorish expression, her inky black hair spread like a halo around her head. You see her flushed skin shining with sweat, you see the tremble in her body and think about how much longer you’ll have to go without it.

“You don’t even know what you do to me…” You begin to ramble without thinking, words flowing like water from your tongue while Mizu moans beneath you.

You can’t help the way your hips begin to plow against hers, you can’t help the strength and ferocity that possesses you when you think of the distance that will be between the two of you. When you think of who she could meet and compare you to. When you think of yourself in the future, in bed, alone, aching for a body that will not be there. You cannot control the desire in your body when your hips move in a way that can only be described as primal, and she takes it all. Mizu has always taken what you give her so well, and it wasn’t long before you were both panting each other’s name against your skins, the room now hot and stuffy and reeking of sex. Her voice reaches a certain pitch, her nails claw into the silken fabric of your kimono, and you can tell she’s closer than ever.

A warm flower of pride bloomed in your chest as you realized that one day, if all went well, you could keep her for yourself. You’d no longer spend the lonely nights in your palace inviting women of the night to give you company. You’d no longer need to bear the crushing loneliness in your bed — not when Mizu’s mission would fail and she’d realize her rightful place at your side. Safe and warm. Protected. Yours.

You imagine fucking her day and night when she returns until she’s sore and trembling, unable to stand without your assistance. The mental image and the emotions it ignites inside of you make you openly and shakily moan in sync with her, and the two of you cum in each other's embrace. She’s damn near bitten through the silk of your kimono by now, drool coating the luxurious fabric. By now, she’s hardly the image of dignified, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You pull yourself off of her with nothing but a smooth roll of your hips and a near-violent shudder from the body beneath you. By then, it had all blurred together into a hazy memory of warm candlelight, golden skin, and warm, damp towels running along Mizu’s body and freshly fetched water poured into her waiting mouth. You only remember the rest you won for yourself that night, the two of you wrapped in a tangle of limbs and half torn fabric, warm.

But you wake up cold, and you recall why she came by in the first place.

“Would it be too burdensome to stay?” You implore, voice breaking with sleep and heartache. That worn, raggedy kimono is once again wrapped around her figure, her bandages back on. Her very aura is cold and distanced, and the weight of her decision truly settles into your skin.

“We can be happy, you know.” You say, almost pleading but with far too much pride to let it show. “I am in the mountains, far from the city. No white man could find you here,” You can’t being yourself to stand. You watch as her expression morphs from one of sorrow and pity to one of distrust, distaste, and near-resentment. Whether it is directed to you or her father, you cannot be sure.

With her back to you and her voice in the tone of a man’s, she bids you goodbye.

You find that— more than anyone— you want her quest of revenge to fail.

How you despised her.

And oh, how you missed her.

[rookiesbookies]

Hi, I really love the greek gods au for the boys, could I request some more hcs for them?

I was lowkey so excited to have an ask! Welcome Anon! I appreciate you! You have braved my inbox and im super excited to have you!

I saw you ask and wrote this as fast as I could with some of the other ideas for them that swim around my brain.

Let me know what you think!

Masterlist is pinned on my account as always, and my inbox is open!

Price

He had Hephaestus forge him a special razor so he could always keep his mustache in check after an incident where he tried to use a human razor and broke it.

He wears human clothes, he does have his godly robes but he prefers to wear something that may be comforting for whatever sacrificial woman he has at a given moment.

Has debated no longer accepting the women as sacrifices

for a long string of time the women were just the horniest ones or the village prostitutes. While they were nice for a week or two he did end up finding them homes elsewhere

Gaz says he fosters women like cats.

Price isnt looking at fostering anymore though. This most recent accidental sacrifice has by far been his favorite. She’s so warm, causes no problem, and isn’t like the last one he got who owned 8 cats.

Price likes cats, just not 8 of them.

He also worries Zeus will try to take his woman

Which is why the woman is hidden and protected by Price’s powerful shield from anyone who tries to creep on her. He doesn’t want his woman threatened by Hera.

Hera already knows he has decided to marry this one, as the goddess of marriage and is probably the most proud of him compared to Zeus’ other bastard children.

Soap

He most often wears his godly armor instead of his robes or human clothes.

The human clothes are really only to go see Price, the robes are really only for relaxing in his house, but the armor is for working.

He has to really just follow around his dad, Ares

He doesn’t know his goddess mom, and Ares wont tell him. Honestly he questions if he’s even Ares because the relationship isnt very father-son, they’re more just like Coworkers

He says his mom is probably Aphrodite but who knows

He spends most of his time with Simon.

Simon is relaxed and comes to work with him sometimes. Usually accidentally causing a cold breeze with his presence.

Soap linda digs the dark robes, he hates how shiny his white ones are.

Definitely hides amongst humans when he gets pent up or frustrated from work.

Gods are so demanding in bed, he’d rather have a human.

With Price looking like he’s going to settle down with his newest sacrifice, Soap thinks about finding his own woman. Price’s helps him cook and clean and look like she’d take it with no problems. Soap kinda wants that now

Ghost

He’s a very antisocial god.

Price has tried to get him to loosen up.

Price has offered him the best of some of the sacrifices that he didn’t get along with.

Simon just hasn’t shifted.

He buddies around with Soap, says its because their work is the most similar.

In reality Soap is the one person he favors the most. Keegan is also up there, but he’s no Johnny.

He never understood why Price took the sacrifices of women. He doesnt bother with the mountain god who gets on his nerves. He loves Gaz but his social battery just dies.

He doesnt see anyone loving that.

Not to mention, he’s the god of Winter. His fingers are cold, his robes are a dark black instead of a beautiful white because he’s from the underworld, and he spends a lot of time down there as well.

He refuses to kidnap a woman how Hades had. Says he had standards and is too attractive for that. Tells people he’ll get a woman when he wants one.

Persephone worries about him. Persephone wants a daughter-in-law who can bring her cold son out of this.

Even Demeter worries, and she loves when he visits. She has no more work when he comes into town, she just wish he didn’t reek of death from the underworld.

Konig

You think Konig was tall at somewhere between 6’7” and 6’10”? Now he’s like 8 feet tall.

He’s probably the loneliest of all of gods, he lives at the top of his mountain (which is kinda like the one of Olympus where it was kinda just a glorified hill) and doesn’t get much company, unlike the 141 group.

He does wear a veil because of his anxiety, being a lonely god makes you self conscious, what if all the other gods are much more handsome?

He wears robes, unlike the 141 group, he doesnt try to blend in with humans so he only has his godly robes.

He doesnt often get sacrifices either, since his altar is at the top of the mountain. Its why he doesnt intervene when the war people come often.

If only there was a way to sacrifice someone to keep him company, he’d never need much more again.

Especially with Atlas holding up the world.

Zeus told him he was born from a single drop of Atlas’ sweat hitting the ground.

Konig has never met Atlas. So he wouldn’t doubt he maybe is secretly a Zeus child? However he doesn’t mind not being a Zeus child. Hera doesn’t give him problems and he likes it that way.

He cooks, he cleans. He’d do anything for someone to spend a bit of time with. He might start scoping out the local village and town again. Last time he was disappointed by all the interesting ones being taken, so he stayed at a distance. But maybe he’d try again.

Keegan

Work is always calling Keegan.

As Thanatos says, “humans wont stop dying, birthing, fucking, or breathing”

Keegan doesn’t disagree.

He has black robes, similar to Ghost’s as they’re both from the underworld. He has spent a great deal of time with Simon as he has to deal with people suffering from hypothermia in the harsh winters.

Simon doesn’t cold shoulder him like most others. Compared to the gods from the underworld, Keegan is quite friendly. He just knows people dont live forever.

Or he hasn’t learned Price can protect humans and living things from death yet.

He has a solid relationship with Thanatos. He cant complain especially next to Soap’s and Price’s situations

He hasn’t ever really spent time with the 141 group because he’s worried he’ll have to get up and leave randomly due to his job.

He also doesn’t have human clothes like they do. He often wonders where they came from.

His home is in the underworld, so he worries about a human living there if he ever were to take on a bride.

Maybe he’d find a nice goddess like Hades did. But Price makes humans seem so nice.

He just worries he wouldnt be home enough to care for his human or he’d have to take his human to work to make sure she got enough vitamin D… i mean he can always gives you vitamin D but it’s a different vitamin.

He’s also worried about touching a human because what if he accidentally kills them or something ridiculous like that?

Too many risks. Maybe. Unless someone is brave enough to prove them wrong.

Gaz

He saves a lot of dropped babies from serious damage. He never shows himself, always stays invisible to the human eye, but he saves a lot of babies.

Also saves a lot of kids. Toddlers and young children fall quite a bit.

He has the whitest and cleanest and shiniest robes btw

But yeah he loves saving kids. Especially when he can show his form because adults don’t believe kids anyway.

Especially if they say they were saved by a god.

He also saves quite a bit of animals. Like bird eggs.

He just prefers saving kids.

He thinks they’re really darn cute.

Wouldn’t mind a few of his own

Doesnt help Hermes keeps teasing him though.

Hermes never misses a chance to remind him he came from him jerking it on a cloud and letting it fall to the earth.

Hermes thinks its really funny.

Gaz wouldn’t hate a partner. Nymph, Human, or Goddess.

He’s taken a couple of them to bed and has to say Human is his favorite.

Did he mention he saves a lot of kids?

Would you, maybe, like to save his, perhaps, for like 9 months?

Krueger

Sebastian makes Konig’s world a bit less lonely? However isn’t the most wonderful company.

Definitely defiles the virgins of random towns near by.

Has fun telling them he’s a god and was sent by their towns patron to defile them

Lowkey Hera had to ask if he was one of Zeus

He was actually carved from clay and given gifts from gods

Artemis made him a skilled hunter, Hades made him a quick thinker, Athena gave him tactical knowledge, Ares gave him strength, Apollo gave him impermeable skin, Zeus gave him a big dick, Eris gave him wild anger

The usual

His job is not terribly demanding and has quite a bit of free time to spend with Konig

He has big dark armor and a giant axe. Definitely has a lot of fun with it

his dream is to get a temple of his own and his own priestesses who would do his bidding and pray to him their city doesnt go on a hit list for the gods

He also dreams to get a virgin sacrificed to him.

He isnt greedy like Price when it comes to women, he just wants one. One is all he would need.

He’d never need to go around defiling random virgins anymore, he’d just get to have his virgin at home.

He’d love to have his own servant. He’d treat her well he promises. He’d love an embarrassed virgin for himself.

[cheval-grand]

If im being honest, I really think SSE messed up the holiday event. This year has been especially hard and depressing for everyone, and their big idea is to cover the cheery, winter village with a twilight depression filter that begs you to boringly and painstakingly grind-gather 18 THOUSAND snowflakes to remove it.

It's like. There's wars going on, talks about elections, shootings and murders everyday, not even mentioning personal issues.

I'm not even feeling the holidays, everything is so depressed, and SSE's like, "what if we made the winter village depressed too"

[trippygalaxy]

The Spring Keeper

An idea for a (GN)Reader x Twilight headcanon series? Fic? No clue, but I had this idea of the reader being like, the keeper of the Ordon spring and im lowkey loving it.

I'll expand on this more if people are interested!!

Pairing: GN! reader x Twilight Warnings: Mention of child abandonment,

Since reader was young, they always had a connection to the Ordon spring. Most of the village believes that because when they found the (human or hyilan) child in the middle of the winter, seemingly abandoned for goddesses knows how long, the child's cheeks held no flushness and was warm to the touch even when laying along snowy bank of the frozen over spring

As they grew, they became more fascinated by the spring, like it was a second home...a safe place. Always hanging around there, always in the water and always giggling even when no one was near. Though no one really saw anything, it wasn't uncommon to hear the splashing of hooves accompany the young one's wild giggles.

In Reader's early teens, they had many dreams with with the spirit Ordona in them. The two would relax in the spring, like two old friends catching up with one another after years apart but sometimes….sometimes the dreams wouldn't be in the springs and those ones...Those ones were far from 'dreams.' Reader would see many disasters that would pass over the village like a horrible blanket. (IE, big winter coming so stock up, monsters getting too close to the village, homes/structures in the village in need of repair that arent obivous at the first glance.)

At first Reader ignored these nightmares, not knowing what to make of them but too scared to speak out about them in fear of being seen as 'nutty' or just...crazy but there was one person Reader often confided to. Twilight.

The two young teens had always been close, even at a young age, and so when the teenage boy notices his closest friend walk around like they were a tired corpse, he was quick to check up on them.

So when Reader quietly confessed about their horrible dreams and their concerns for the villages safety, Twilight was quick to offer his aid to his dear friend, offering to be the one who tells others about these concerns but phrases it as his own concerns so his friend, reader, wouldn't be in the spotlight.

But soon enough, the dreams were found out and the village (mostly mayor Bo and a few other adults) started to piece together the reader's strange connection to the spring!

-FAST FORWARD BY MANY YEARS-

Reader, having been seemingly selected by Ordona as it's avatar, was now deemed the protector and caretaker of the spring! And as they have taken up the role, their once subtle abilities started to become much more prominent!

But as the years gone by, Twilight was ALWAYS by their side, always defending them and always making sure they would take care of themself even when they pour their heart and soul into taking care of the spring and the spirit.

[nametakensff]

Suggestible (D/isco E/lysium, M/M)

The first fic of a few I have for these two because I am deeep into this shit now lol. Ended up at 4K!

H/arry, whilst working on the murder case in M/artinaise and ever so slowly piecing his identity together, notices an interesting reaction in K/im to his budding cold. I guess the first part of a series that will become increasingly NSFW, but for now mostly just alluding to it!

Based on an insane little piece of dialogue in the game where K/im suggests that other people sneezing makes him sneeze

~~~~~~

Content:

Future/hinted M/M, cold sneezes, sympathetic sneezes, H/arry has a latent sneezing fetish that he doesn't remember having yet, spray, stifles, sneezing into handkerchiefs, slight elements of voyeurism but only because H/arry is a confused mess lmao

CW: lots of drug and alcohol mentions, lots of self-hatred

NB - I guess please don't read if you plan on playing the game and want to go in with no prior knowledge - it doesn't really have any plot heavy spoilers but takes place within the story

(also also - decided to write this in 2nd person narrative to somewhat resemble the style of game play - it's not perfect but it was fun to try haha)

Minors DNI please!

Lieutenant Kitsuragi trails behind you as you jog your way across the empty boardwalk and towards the fishing village. The air is piercing and bitterly cold – you are starting to feel the effects of it as the salty air whips against your face. It has been snowing on and off for hours, and you are woefully underdressed. This has not been a good day for you – few new leads, endless dead ends. And a hangover. The hangover to end all hangovers. Not even the frigid winter weather can distract you from the dull thud of a lingering headache, painful pulses beating in time with your heart. It feels as though your brain is too swollen – or your skull is too tight.

Suddenly, you feel it – the familiar, fluttering sensation of a building sneeze. You have been a little under the weather ever since you awoke in your hotel room several days earlier, having no recollection of who you are and woefully bereft of substances to abuse. You had put any subsequent discomfort down to just that – the miserable lack of alcohol, nicotine and narcotics in your system. This tickle, however – it is something all of its own. You stop dead in your tracks, practically skidding to a stop as it crests. You have no hope of holding back the encroaching sneeze. Your mouth hangs open, a great yawn of irritation, before – at last – release.

It comes out sounding more like a desperate shriek than anything else; a few startled seagulls scatter, flying away in a maelstrom of confusion and feathers. You didn’t mean to cause such a scene, but the cold air, the breeze, and now the beginning of a miserable cold – it all proves too much for you. You take in another shuddering gasp before you’ve even recovered from the previous explosion and do it all over again.

“HAAAEEEIISHHHHhhh!!!”

There are no seagulls left to scatter this time, but you hardly notice for the way this sneeze, even more violent than the one before it, sends you flying forward and staggering on your feet. You manage to catch yourself before you fall face down on the sandy ground, panting slightly in the aftermath. It practically tore itself out of you, leaving your throat more than a little hoarse. Perhaps a drink would be just the thing to remedy your misery…

You’re shaken out of your alcoholic deliberation by a familiar, soft voice. Lieutenant Kitsuragi is resting a gentle, gloved hand on your shoulder, hovering next to your crouched form. His voice is as placid as always, but you can’t help but notice a slight hint of concern. You right yourself immediately and snuffle at the mess that’s threatening to overflow from your nose, already a bright shade of red from years of alcohol abuse and the biting cold of the beach.

“Are you alright, Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor?”

The Lieutenant notices the thickness of the sound, a barely perceptible look of displeasure passing over his face. You see him reach into his pockets and pull out a large handkerchief – the very same you have seen him use before to cover his face as you performed a field autopsy together. He proffers it to you and you hesitate for just a moment - then your nose starts to run into your moustache. This prompts you to take it from him and snuffle into it apologetically. You realise this pathetic sniffling will do nothing to stem the flow – you surrender and blow your nose with as much conviction as you possibly can. The sound of it is devastatingly loud, almost as disruptive as the sneezes preceding it. You glance at Kim sheepishly from behind the material. If it’s as disgusting to Lieutenant Kitsuragi as it sounded to you, he doesn’t so much as flinch.

When you’re finished, you offer the soiled fabric back to him with an outstretched hand. He looks at it with mild dismay.

“You keep that, officer. I carry a spare with me at all times.”

Stupid. That was stupid of you. Why would you hand him a snot rag? You dismiss the thought before the negativity drags you down further into the already miserable grips of your hangover. But for whatever reason, you keep note of this new information regarding the handkerchiefs. It’s not as though this is out of the ordinary for Kim. He’s so organised and focused – a great cop. Not like you. Of course he would carry a spare. Moving on, you ask the lieutenant for his opinion of what you ought to do next.

“Hm…We should return to the Whirling-In-Rags. Try Klaasje again and see if she’s ready to discuss the murder in more detail.”

It sounds like a perfect idea to you. The wind is fiercely cold and you never did get round to buying a windbreaker. Your hangover is making it impossible to tell if the major discomfort you’re feeling is from the alcohol dissipating within your husk of a body, or the virus threatening to take hold of your sinuses. Either way, getting out of the cold is imperative.

You approach the vicinity of the Whirling-In-Rags Hostel – at last. Your chest burns. Normally, a brisk jog is nothing to you – if anything, it energises your ailing body after a particularly lengthy binge. But today, you feel miserably worn out. You pause for a moment, look towards the Lieutenant, and attempt to speak. You fail, nothing but a series of wheezing gasps issuing from between your lips, followed by an increasingly hacking cough. You buckle over your knees and continue to hack like the washed-up middle-aged man you know you are. Kim places a hand on your back - he seems worried.

“This isn’t good. You’re unwell, detective. Perhaps you should rest a while in your room?”

Something tells you this isn’t a suggestion exclusively for your own benefit. A perfunctory glance tells you that Lieutenant Kitsuragi is tired, and as miserably cold as you. He wouldn’t mind a break inside a warm building, thawing out over a cup of coffee. Nevertheless, you feel disappointment blooming in your chest. As if you weren’t already a pathetic excuse of a policeman - missing memory, decked head to toe in questionable clothes and with a penchant for drug and drink on the clock – you’re now so weak you can’t even handle a mild case of rhinovirus. Pathetic.

You stand upright in an attempt to signal that you are and always have been a perfect beacon of health. You tell the Lieutenant that time is of the essence; you’ve been working on this case for days and have no time for further setbacks. He acknowledges this with a small nod; he seems to appreciate this professional, business-like approach to the matter. He doesn’t say anything more but merely walks beside you as you stride towards the Whirling-In-Rags.

You barely manage to take a few steps before the tickle is upon you again. You tense your jaw and attempt to quell the sensation by taking in shallow, measured breaths, but no dice. In seconds, it tears its way out of you as before, echoing off the walls of the nearby buildings. It is so loud that you wonder if the scabs protesting outside of the Union can hear it over the sounds of their own angry chants. Again, you stumble forward under the force of it, feeling light-headed.

The Lieutenant reaches out to grip your shoulder, steadying you just in time. You wait and sniffle miserably in preparation for the following sneeze, lingering in the depths of your sinuses, but it never comes. You straighten up, blinking tears of effort from your tired eyes, when you become aware of a certain sensation. Kim’s hand squeezes your shoulder with a sudden flex. Could this be a gesture of affection? Reassurance? This is not the Lieutenant’s regular style. He is far too cool for that kind of thing.

You look over your shoulder in curiosity as the Lieutenant continues his grip, despite your having collected yourself. You can see that behind the lenses of his glasses, his eyes are unfocused and heavy-lidded. His mouth hangs slightly open, and he is holding a fist – expectantly? – before his face. The expression is…familiar. You’d seen it before, though not on Lieutenant Kitsuragi.

As you furrow your brow in deep consideration, reaching for an explanation that only just manages to elude you, slight movement from Kim pulls you out of your thoughts. You watch as his head tilts back, stays there for a just a moment before he’s jerking forward into his gloved fist, pressing it against his nose and mouth. His features contract severely, moulding his ordinarily placid face into a twisted, almost angry and unrecognisable countenance. You feel his fingers flex again. His entire body shudders, and as it does so, you hear him utter a tiny sound.

“-hHdt’!”

You blink, still not putting two and two together. Maybe this amnesia was worse than you had initially assumed it to be. Was he – seizing? No. Of course not. You continue to watch in confusion as he seems to uncrumple with a gentle exhalation. You think he might be done, but no. Just as quickly as one breath is exhaled, a replacement is sucked back in hurriedly. You watch as he repeats the action, ducking forward into his fist again, more forcefully this time. His shoulders jump with the effort and his hand squeezes substantially harder against you.

“h’Ngxt-!! hh…”

That strange sound again – this time followed by an uncharacteristically shaky exhale.  A moment later the Lieutenant straightens up and assumes his regular composure, releasing your shoulder as if nothing just happened. If you hadn’t watched this series of events unfold right in front of you, you’re sure you would have missed it altogether. He blinks several times as if to clear away tears. Still you have no idea what the fuck just happened – any remnants of the pained expression that cinched his features tight has vanished, leaving him to look as calm and collected as before. You stare at him, eyes roving over his face. This intrusive observation gives you the last bit of information you need to understand. His nostrils flare delicately as he indulges in a sniffle, moisture gathering around the irritated rims and glittering ever so slightly in the afternoon sunlight.

Had those been…sneezes? Those tiny little swallows of air?! You feel a grin spread across your face, any discomfort of your own forgotten for the moment. You bless him enthusiastically. Ignoring the inkling that tells you not to tease or cajole him, you also comment on how adorable the Lieutenant’s sneezes are. Like a kitten. A badass cop kitten.

He thanks you somewhat reluctantly, blatantly ignoring the kitten comment. He clearly wants you to move on from him and focus again on the case. You continue to make your way towards Whirling-In-Rags, but don’t miss out of the corner of your eye the sight of the Lieutenant covertly pinching his nostrils shut, before pulling down towards his septum. He is wiping the resultant moisture of those sneezes away with his gloved fingers. This realisation makes your heartbeat spike for just a moment. You choose to ignore this.

You walk into the establishment – the increasingly familiar sounds and sights greet you as you pass through the door. The Hardie boys are in their booths, an unwelcome fixture. You glance sidelong at them – Titus glares daggers back at you. You think you should puff up your chest and stare him down in a battle of warring machismo, but at last minute think otherwise. It would do nothing to repair your already abysmal lack of authority if you sneezed at him mid stand-off. You glance away. He smirks, arms crossed firmly over his broad chest, clearly enjoying this silent display of dominance. You get an all-consuming urge to spin around and put him in his place – but you feel shitty. Much too shitty. It would probably end with his fist in your face.

You approach the staircase leading to the bedrooms when you feel that familiar, irritating tickle blossoming anew in your sinuses. Not again, not here! Not in a busy room full of so many people. You want to maintain your cool cop image – sneezing is not a cool thing to do. You briefly think to yourself that Kim is cool, even when he sneezes - but it is a foolish thought. You’re not him. You fight to suppress the gasp that fills your lungs, fumbling in your jacket pocket for the handkerchief the lieutenant had given you – but you’re too late. Two huge sneezes rocket out of you, sending veritable clouds of spray across the base of the staircase. They practically break the sound barrier, two near identical “IIIIEEEESHHHHhhtt!!!” screams of irritation. Kim doesn’t steady you this time – you reach out and do that yourself with the help of the banister.

Jeers erupt from the Hardie boys across the cafeteria floor – you only just manage to hold back an embarrassed blush from creeping over your weary face. You have finally managed to extract the handkerchief from your pocket. You decide a honking performance will do very little to remedy this utter humiliation, dabbing softly at your aching nose instead. You begin to climb the stairs; a sordid walk of shame.

“That’s just what this establishment needs, following the hanging, bloated corpse – a biohazardous drunk anointing his plague unto us all.”

That snark came from Garte – the bartender. No, the Cafeteria Manager.

“Just ignore him.” Kim mutters close to your ear. You proceed to flip the bird at Garte instead. As you make your way upstairs, you swear you can hear a tiny gasp from behind you. Without the sensation of a hand gripping your shoulder and signalling the completion of a sneeze, you have to strain your ears to even confirm they happen at all.

“’Ngxt’ch! h’ddt’! Hh’Ggkt!!”

Those are definitely sneezes. Slightly louder than before, enough that you can hear the Lieutenant’s own soft voice blending in with the strained sound of them. Your stomach is suddenly alive with butterflies. In your mind’s eye you can visualise the way his face crumples with each of them – nostrils flaring outwards as he valiantly bites down against them. You are sure if you try to do the same, your head will explode. Or at the very least, an aneurism is a surefire possibility. You shudder at the thought of it. You want to offer a blessing to the Lieutenant, but based on the previous reception it received, you decide against it. This could be the start of a beautiful partnership – Harry’n’Kim, Du Bois and Kitsuragi. Disco Cop and Cool Cop. You can always brainstorm on your trademark duo name at a later date. Either way, you decide to ignore the Lieutenant’s strangled outburst. A soft exhalation behind you signals that he is finished – for now.

You reach the top of the stairs. With great dismay, you realise that perhaps for the first time in your life, you are experiencing firsthand the effect of all those years of chain smoking. The wheezing gasps bend you over for a moment. Lieutenant Kitsuragi stands nearby, just short of nervously hovering, waiting for you to recover. You finally catch your breath and stride as confidently as you can towards Klaasje’s room. You extend a fist to knock on the door when you feel the soft touch of Kim’s hand on your arm, stopping you in your tracks. This has to be a new record. He has touched you on four separate occasions – all in a span of under thirty minutes.

“Perhaps you should take this opportunity to rest after all, detective.” Kim offers. You sense by the firmness of his voice that this is less of a gentle suggestion and more of a request. He smiles wryly.

“You are not very likely to get her to open up to you if you deafen her with your sneezing.”

Your stomach flips at hearing that word come out of his mouth. It is confusing but not entirely unpleasant. Whilst he doesn’t laugh, you can see the amusement held in the subtle quirking of his lips. You think for a moment that you should tell him your sneezes are the pinnacle of masculinity – ladies dig a huge, manly sneeze. You choose instead to sigh, practically deflating as any will to remain poised upright seeps out of you. You know he’s right. The filthy sheets of your bed beckon to you.

You agree with him and turn heel to your own room. He looks pleased – perhaps a little relieved. How disastrous did he think the interaction would have gone, had you proceeded? He turns to face you as you stand outside your respective doors.

“Don’t worry, detective. I will wake you up in a couple of hours, and we can resume our investigation. There is no point in making yourself ill.”

You nod. You are both about to enter your rooms when you feel it again. The tickle. It is persistent and increasingly difficult to control. You feel a gasp inflating your chest, helpless to do anything other than let the sensation overpower you. There is no time to even lift the handkerchief to your face. You do manage to turn away from the Lieutenant as the sneeze rips through you, baptising your own door with a trembling “aaAAAAEEEEGSHHHHhh!!!” A cloud of spray settles on the wood, droplets of spray shimmering under the harsh lighting. Gross.

“Bless you.”

A blessing. You feel relieved – and slightly giddy. Your stomach flips again. It is likely out of politeness, but the Lieutenant has at least not run for the hills in response to your disgusting display. You start to thank him when – oh, sweet confusion - he interrupts you with another sneeze of his own. He isn’t fast enough to bring a fist to his face this time. You can see every minute twitch of his facial muscles as he suppresses the sneeze through sheer willpower alone.

“Hh’Gnxt!! Huh’NGxtt!!”

The second sneeze follows immediately – his head dips twice in quick succession. That look of desperation suits him just fine, you think. You decide to abandon the thought as quickly as it forms. You are only partially successful in doing so. His hand reaches into the pocket of his trousers – he succeeds in removing the handkerchief in the duration of that second sneeze, you notice in great appreciation. You would never have managed to pull that off.

You watch as he raises the handkerchief before his face for a final sneeze. This one looks more irritable than the ones prior – the expression plastered on his face is openly more agonised than before. He pauses for what is likely only a second longer before the tickle reaches its apex, but that is more than enough time for another thought to cross your mind – one of an entirely salacious nature. You think that the face he is making resembles the sweet agony of another kind of release. You try to unthink it, but it’s too late – you’re absolutely, undeniably thinking it. The second passes. At last, the lieutenant smothers his final sneeze into the waiting folds of the handkerchief. It is considerably louder than before, even with the assistance of the fabric covering.

“hHh’nNGgxtt!!..chu…”

The soft vocal exclamation that rounds off the sneeze sounds weary, like it took a lot out of him. He sniffles briefly into the handkerchief, rubbing at his nose before tucking the cloth back into his pocket. Is it your imagination, or is said appendage starting to look a little reddened from the effort?

“Excuse me.” The Lieutenant mumbles, sounding uncomfortable. Embarrassed, perhaps?

You bless him before you remember to bite your tongue. Luckily, he accepts it with a soft “Thank you.” You watch as he removes his glasses and swipes at a stray tear rolling down his cheek. He replaces them just as quickly, giving you hardly any time to take in the sight of him without the thick frames. It is for a brief moment only, but the word ‘vulnerable’ comes to mind.

It dawns on you quite suddenly that he must be sneezing because you have infected him with your disgusting, no good germs. You ask him if this is the case, unable to hold back the shaking guilt as you voice your question-cum-self-abasement. He waves it off immediately.

“Oh, no, it’s nothing like that, detective, I assure you. I’m fine.” He pauses for a moment, looking hesitant to say more. You say nothing. This awkward silence seems to prompt him to continue.

“Sometimes the power of suggestion is too much for me. When somebody sneezes in my vicinity, I find my body often wanting to do the same. And your sneezes are particularly…” He trails off for a moment, in want of an appropriate term.

Masculine? Sexy? Bad-ass? You go with the first one. He shakes his head gently.

“…Suggestible.” He finishes. You’re not quite sure you catch his drift, but you do recall that he had mentioned something like this before. ‘Dancing makes you dance like sneezing makes you sneeze’. He had said that, in the church – he had been enthusiastic to interject, and then immediately changed the subject. You had had no idea what he had meant at the time – not once had you ever heard anyone say anything even remotely similar. It had been easily forgotten. Until now.

You smirk. You hope it isn’t akin to ‘the expression’, but is happening nonetheless. You cannot help it. This. Is. Gold.

You manage to hold back from laughing, but what you cannot help is calling him adorable. For the second time that day.

“I’m a 43 year old RCM policeman. I am far from adorable, officer.” He states firmly, almost as if he is chiding you. You do not miss, however, the softness in his eyes and the momentary twitching of his lips into a tiny smile. You do laugh at that. Bad idea. The laugh quickly morphs into a painful, wrenching cough. Whatever light-hearted moment you’d been sharing, you have ruined it. Your throat burns with the effort. God, but you want a drink. And a smoke. Maybe some speed. You finish at last, wiping spittle from your lips with the back of your sleeve.

“Please rest, Harry. I will check up on you soon.”

He casts a final worried glance your way before nodding curtly. You watch as the door clicks shut behind him. After a moment, you make your way into your own room, not even bothering to kick off your shoes as you collapse onto the pile of twisted sheets. Far too tired to think about the past that eludes you, about the case, about any of it, your eyes start to slip shut.

But it is back. The tickle. You have no means of fighting it, and you’re not sure you want to. You sneeze, smothering it into your sheets at the last second.

“HHHRRMMMPPPSHHHh!!!”

You peer cautiously at the sheets. You have left a considerably large damp patch on the section that covered your mouth and nose. Gross – that should be your middle name. You feel disgusting, but before you can begin another spiral of self-deprecation the exhaustion overwhelms you entirely. A final thought passes through your mind as you surrender to it. Did the Lieutenant hear you?

Next door, settling into the chair at his desk, Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi tenses at the sound of your sneeze. It was loud enough to be heard not only the next room over – indeed, anyone on the second floor may have been startled by it. His breath hitches, once, twice, before he is tipping forward into his gloved hands, steepled around his face. Depleted of energy from the prior onslaughts, he is unable to hold them back at all.

“-hh! Hck’tshuu! Hupt’Tshhht!! ‘TSCHH’uu!! hm...”

He glances in unmasked irritation at the damp speckling of moisture now adorning the palms of his gloves.

“Merde!” He grumbles under his breath. The Lieutenant pulls the gloves from his hands, pausing to scrub at his itchy nostrils with his knuckles for one indulgent moment, before resuming the paperwork he had failed to complete the night before. He hopes, for both your own sake and his, that once he wakes you your sneezing spell will have passed – due to a temporary chill and nothing more. Neither of you have the time for this absurdity. He sniffles once more and begins to write.

[ghostofskywalker]

Hi! I just saw your winter ficlet request thingy, and I decided to ask for some! (Even though I read through the guidelines, I hope I do this right, never actually sent a request 😅)

So uuuh, what about

“Am I your favorite?” with Crosshair?

Like, it just screams his name, in my opinion! 🤭

Sending you love! 🫶🏻

i absolutely love that prompt with him, you're so right!! and it's also fitting that this was the first request for winter ficlets, im honored to be your first request! i changed the prompt a tiny bit, but i hope you enjoy it :)

words: 769

summary: For the first time in a long time, the crew of the Marauder gets to spend a little time relaxing, and you joke around with the squad's resident sniper.

A Quiet Moment

clone troopers masterlist

For the first time in who knows how long, things were quiet on the Marauder. The last few jobs that the squad had taken had all been completed, deliveries and retrievals for some of Cid’s more shadow-y clients (it was something of a miracle that everyone made it out with all their limbs, if you were being honest). It wasn’t anything near the luxury and decadence as a vacation on a more tropical planet would be, as the ship was currently parked in the middle of a forest on a nearly empty Outer Rim planet, but it was still something of a blessing for you, Omega, and the rest of the boys to be able to take a step back and relax for a few days. 

You were sitting under a tree, staring out in the direction of what you knew to be the closest village, though they were nowhere within eyesight. As you mind quietly drifted from topic to topic, you turned to watch Hunter, Wrecker, and Omega chase each other around the grassy field, while Tech and Echo kept score from the sidelines and called out bets on who was going to catch the others first. 

The sound of feather-light footsteps caught your attention, and you turned to see Crosshair making his way towards you. His hair had begun to grow out in the time since he had returned to his brothers, and he was looking more and more like his old self by the day, save for the scar on the side of his head that you knew would never truly heal. “Finally tired of the smelly ship?” you teased, smiling as he sat down next to you. 

“One could never truly be tired of that stench, you just get used to it,” was his deadpan response, but the barest hint of a smile began to peek through his gruff exterior. That was another thing that was returning about him: his sense of humor. While you were never quite sure what your exact relationship was with the squad’s resident sharpshooter, you were certainly sure that he chose to spend more time with you than anyone else on the squad. 

“So you were bored then.” 

He raised his eyebrows at you. “And you think that if I was bored I would come here, to talk to you?” 

You laughed, sensing the joking tone in his voice. “Point taken, but I have some bad news for you about your current location, grumpy.” 

A sigh escaped his mouth at the newly-appointed nickname, and he plopped down to sit next to you, both of your backs now resting against the trunk of a sturdy tree. Silence fell over you two for a fleeting moment, and you finally decided that you were going to ask him something. “Why do you spend so much time with me?” 

He stopped, turning to you with a slightly shocked expression on his face. “What do you mean?” 

“I don’t know,” you said, suddenly self conscious about the can of whuffa worms you may have just opened. “Like right now, you could be spending more time with your brothers and sister. Why are you over here with me?” 

A beat of silence fell over the space before he spoke in response. “Because you’re the calmest,” he said. “It’s more difficult for me to get back into that frame of mind sometimes, the way my brothers are able to let go and be goofy whenever they want. And besides, you’re my favorite.” 

As much as you would have liked to assure him that his brothers were experiencing similar worries and that they had also been changing with the galaxy, the last sentence he spoke completely caught you off guard. “Really?” 

“Yeah,” he said slowly, looking as though he was suddenly second-guessing the admittance. “Why, am I not your favorite?” 

“I don’t know, Gonky’s pretty much got the position on lock,” you said, a quiet laugh escaping your mouth. 

Crosshair turned away in mock annoyance, but you knew he wasn’t actually offended. Taking a big risk, you reached out to grab his hand, a smile growing on your face when you realized that he didn’t pull it away. Moving it into your lap so that you were holding his hand with both of yours, you gently coaxed him to lay on your shoulder. 

Yeah, maybe he was your favorite person on the ship, and maybe it was totally obvious to anyone with a little bit of insight, but you didn’t care. He needed someone right now, and you were more than happy to help out where you could.

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

[xxlady-lunaxx]

im bored so uhm have this sngy AU im brainstorming (jk i forgot about, i wrote this like 2 weeks ago yet only remembered when scrolling thru my writing) btw its just like the plot or whatever cuz most of it is supposed to be developing their relationship but i like being vague about that when writing the overall summary 😃 also i wrote this with the intention of only me seeing it so if there’s anything silly no you didnt — im kinda trying to incorporate the regular AU into this AU (which i do often lmfao) so some things are jsut me flailing around trying to make it pass off as natural

so like a song turned on when i was in the car today (2 weeks ago) and then i got this whole ass idea from it 😭

So! SaneGiyuu, modern AU.

Sanemi’s hometown was struck by a sickness that spread like a plague (ok it kinda was). Most of his family got it, except Genya and Sanemi. Wanting the two to have a chance, Shizu (the shinazugawa mother) gave Sanemi instructions and access to her bank account then sent him and Genya off to find a small apartment until hopefully the others recovered. Around this time, Sanemi had recently turned 18 (so it was winter when the family fell sick) and Genya was 13. Unfortunately, of course, the other Shinazugawa’s didn’t make it and Sanemi got a letter from some of the other villagers about this. Following the tragedy, Genya and Sanemi had to make a life for themselves. Obviously it was going to be hard and they were barely going off of what money they had left from Shizu. Sanemi ended up having to quit school so he could find a job, but he encouraged Genya to keep going, promising to help him along the way. Sanemi found a pretty solid job eventually, but as summer rolled by and Genya was out of school, he needed someone to care for him. Which is where Giyuu comes into the story!

Giyuu was living with Sabito—his childhood best friend—half renting half just being a roommate, struggling between university and trying to find a job. He (and Sanemi) were 20 by now. Tsutako had moved away some time ago with her husband and Giyuu wasn’t able to support their apartment by himself, so he had moved in with Sabito (who had assured Tsutako he would ‘take care of Giyuu’). Sabito also went to uni with Giyuu but, of course, had his own life. Giyuu was having trouble finding a job but he came across Sanemi one day, who spoke of needing someone to care for his younger brother while he was out working. Giyuu offered immediately to help and Sanemi was ever the grateful for it, hiring him as a babysitter. As it turned out, all Giyuu needed to do was be there and make sure Genya didn’t do anything stupid because Genya wasn’t of age yet and needed caring for. So Giyuu went on with school/finding small jobs here and there.

As time flew on, he became closer to the Shinazugawa’s. At one point he had fallen asleep doing some of his schoolwork while watching over Genya. Next thing he knew, Sanemi was shaking him awake. Sanemi was very forgiving about him falling asleep ‘on the job,’ and said Genya behaved anyway. Then he pointed out the homework Giyuu had been doing. As it turned out, Sanemi wasn’t going to school and had dropped out to support himself and Genya. Of course, if he had any other choice he would’ve stayed in school. So he requested Giyuu to give him some lessons—like tutoring—just so he could learn more. He promised to pay Giyuu double what he was already paying him so, of course, Giyuu accepted—rushing home and asking Sabito how to teach someone later.

Giyuu and Sanemi’s relationship progressed and they started referring to themselves as friends, even inviting each other over just for idle talk when they found the time. Sanemi probably started catching feelings first, touched by Giyuu’s willingness to help (whether or not it was for the money), and just finding it refreshing to have a friend. After leaving his village, Sanemi would’ve left his friends as well (Masachika?) and then he wouldn’t have anytime for things he deemed unimportant like friendship—though he did everything he could to make sure Genya had all the friends and freedom he wanted. So having someone just being there for him and actually helping him so much, both as a sort of job and just because he could? Sanemi definitely found himself drawn towards Giyuu, and it was more than just his lack of social life.

Giyuu took a little longer to come to terms with his feelings, which could be interpreted as falling for Sanemi a while after in one light. Most likely he had thought Sanemi as a ‘compelling individual’ but nothing more than a friend—at least consciously. He hadn’t thought about feeling romantic feelings towards Sanemi, simply because he had never come to terms with the fact that he was gay. In most of his life, Giyuu had tried forcing female love interests onto himself, confused about why he never seemed to like anyone. Tsutako had never been homophobic, of course, she was probably bisexual anyway, but the topic had never surfaced and therefore Giyuu was mostly sheltered from anything more than male/female couples. He never understood crushes so, expectedly, when he gained feelings for Sanemi, he ignored all the signs and called it close friendship.

However. Sanemi confessed to Giyuu almost a year after they had met. It would be summer, now, and the two had aged another year (both 21 and Genya at 16.) Giyuu was stunned silent but this is what got the little silly cogs working in his brain and he began the quick ascent towards coming to realizing that he actually liked Sanemi. Given that he’d never known he’d liked anyone before, Giyuu was obviously reluctant to get in a relationship now. But Sanemi was so sweet and forgiving with him that he wanted to try it out and then confessed to Sanemi, hoping the feelings were still reciprocated (and they were!)

And uh pretty much the end. Happy ever after ✨ (and sabito like: wtf are you getting a job or boyfriend.)

little extra! sabito and giyuu met through Urokodaki who was a daycare teacher and had adopted Sabito. The two had been practically inseparable since then.

[bakughosts]

SPARE VAMPIRE BKG THOUGHTS ??? SPARE VAMPIRE BKG THOUGHTS SIR MAAM ??

omg i have been traveling so it took me forever to respond to this because i wanted to be able to type out my Thoughts on the computer but WILLOW omg..... u spoil me by asking this. because i have so many and they constantly live in my brain ldfskjfslkdjf

i think what i love about bkg so much as a character is that he has desires but most of those desires take the form of achieving a goal. he has so many things he wants to be the best at and so many heights he wants to reach and yeah, part of this is because he's an ambitious person but part of it is because of his ego and his insecurity and the expectations placed upon him by the people around him/society at large. and i think bkg in any context has these things that he wants to achieve because his desire to reach his lofty goals is integral to his character.

and vampire bkg... think of all that time. what do you do when you've achieved everything you've ever wanted to achieve? what's left after that? for a century he has been achieving his goals, and now he has everything. money and power and even respect from locals in the villages near his castle (though that respect is tinged heavily with fear, because even if they don't know exactly what the handsome bachelor that lives inside the creepy but beautiful castle on the horizon is, they know he's something other... and not to mention he looks exactly like his father, and exactly like his father's father, and isn't it strange that none of us have ever seen their wives, have never seen these men at any point in their lives outside of their late twenties/early thirties?)

i don't think stagnation sits well with bkg. i don't think he's ever learned how to be still. despite having unlimited time, he had to accomplish everything as quick as possible, because he just wanted it all. he wanted to be the best so bad that it sung in his veins like adrenaline. and now, in the aftermath, he feels that same emptiness. adrenaline come and gone and only a hollow tiredness in its wake. now is when you feel the pain--nothing distracts you from it.

and one day... you, cat-curious, find your way to his castle. (this has gotten long lmao so im gonna put a read more)

maybe you're a traveler, or an adventurer, or simply someone in one of the nearby villages that doesn't believe the rumors. but no matter who you are and where you come from, you've heard the stories of his Otherness. though you don't know it yet, just like him, you thrive best with adrenaline thrumming through your veins--you thrive when you have something to want. and you want to know the secrets behind the Otherness that everyone else is so afraid of.

does that mean you're not afraid? god, no. of course you are. but you've reached his castle under an auspicious moon and you're sure this is a good omen.

here is why desire is such a dangerous thing: it is often insatiable. for a long, long time, bkg has survived from the blood of his livestock which he cares for, from game on his land. deer in spring, grouse in winter. to live like that for so long, and then to have something so much more tempting come directly to him, delivered to his doorstep--it's almost like a gift.

at the same time, i don't think bkg relishes the idea of drinking human blood, and certainly not killing a human. i think he could be a bloodthirsty vampire, but specifically when it comes to vengeance. he could hurt someone that wronged him, but not someone whose only crime is their curiosity.

you offer to work for him. to clean his castle, to tend his grounds, to care for his cattle. you know how to cook and how to bake (though you're unaware that this means little to him), and you have more fortitude than your appearance belies--his long-fallow farmland would thrive under your hands if he gave you the opportunity to work with it.

if it was years ago and he was still the same man, he might have said no. but it's hard to care when you feel empty. fine, he says. but don't expect fancy lodging or riches beyond measure.

you work, you investigate, you sleep. it's a cycle. and bkg watches you the whole time, though you're none the wiser. he's smart. he knows what you're doing. but you've broken up the monotony for him.

there's no food in his pantries, and you have to find him to ask for coin to go into town and buy groceries. he doesn't provide you the coin directly--a smart move, perhaps--but later that day, what you've requested has been stocked in the pantry shelves. and that's how you mainly interact with him for a while--weeks, maybe. you wake at dawn and clear the land and feed the cows and pigs and begin the monstrous task of cleaning a castle that has been left to rot and you go to the room you've chosen when the sun is long set, settle into your moth-eaten bed, and sleep harder than you've ever done in your life. if you need tools, feed for the cattle, groceries, supplies to clean, you relay this to him, often finding him in his study reading or in the greenhouse, pruning exotic plants. he never gives you more than nods and grunted words of acquiescence, but despite his temperament, he always provides what you ask for.

he's surprised by your tenacity. by your boldness, to ask for so much, even if it's not for your direct benefit. when you cook dinner each night, you make a serving for him as well. he can admit, begrudgingly, though you are in his space and disrupting his quiet, that he admires the way you chop vegetables so uniformly, that you're so careful with the way you measure out the spices he has filled his cabinets with for you.

and above all, for the first time in a long time, he feels something like desire.

he's never been intrigued by other people--he has friends, other vampires he has known for decades (kirishima and mina), but their friendship was foisted upon him until he gave in. he doesn't think he's intrigued by you. but your blood--

it has been a very long time since he has been tempted by something so sweet.

(i think there has to be so much context for this situation because i truly believe that the longer bkg is alone, the harder it is for him to let someone in. after a century of shutting himself away, it would be almost impossible for him to open himself back up in any significant way. it's the situation that allows for this desire to grow. the lack of anything else to hold his attention, the feeling of achieving everything you've ever wanted to achieve and having nothing left to strive for, the unobtrusive yet spellbinding nature of your presence. he remembers what it was like to want something. this, at first, is what draws him to you. nothing more.)

vampires are always hungry. even when sated, they know that hunger is going to return. there's nothing to stop it. it's the nature of their existence. so yes, at first, it's his hunger that draws him to you, though he wouldn't ever do anything about it.

he talks to you more. finds out things about you. your father was a drunkard and you never smile with teeth. you've worked on farms since late childhood and your right pinkie is crooked from a bad break. you read romance novels late at night and deny that you've been in his library when he asks you about it.

and after dinners spent together where he doesn't eat, after early evenings when he joins you outside to feed the cows, he tells himself this pull he feels is because of that hunger. because of that desire--not for you, but for the lifeblood that nearly intoxicates him just by scent if he gets too close to you.

(though you are aware of his Otherness, he is disarming to you. it's something about the earnestness in everything he does, despite his gruff exterior. he seems rusty at conversation, but his efforts are genuine. he doesn't eat your food, but he picks at it so as to not make you feel bad. you find this more endearing than you care to say aloud.)

and then kirishima and mina visit, and they meet you, his new human employee that lives in his castle and reads his books and touches his shoulder gently when he steadies a ladder for them so they can rehang one of the long-covered paintings in the drawing room, as if he has ever let anyone touch him, as if he has ever let anyone close enough to try--

and it's kirishima that finally asks what's going on, and when bkg says nothing, obviously, he asks again because he knows his best friend better than anyone else in the world--now, perhaps, better than anyone except you--and the truth is more simple than expected.

for so long, bkg had only ever experienced desire as hunger. hunger for blood, hunger for power, hunger for everything greater in the world. he was hungry to be the best. whatever that meant. because becoming the best meant that no one could question him. no one could doubt that he was powerful and all the things that came along with it. no one but himself. surely, he had thought, once he got to the top he would stop having those doubts because he would, unassailably, be the best.

just like hunger, doubt is something that can never be truly sated.

and for a long time he sat with that.

but then, to his own surprise, he was shown that desire can be something other than hunger. something softer, a smile with less teeth. desire can be vegetables chopped precisely, or dirt from the fields caked under fingernails, or a badly-healed little finger. desire can be a gentle hand on his shoulder, an act of trust: i know you'll be there to steady me.

he never knew he could want something without being hungry. never knew he could have his teeth to someone's throat without drawing blood. but now it's all he wants to do.

[musicoftheheart]

following the events in this post ive been listening to a few noah kahan songs (ive been picking and choosing a bit tbh, mostly the ones i recognise the titles of as well as a couple others) and heres what ive got:

(note: some of these opinions are based more on an unreleased wip i have, because some of these songs fit just a bit too well w it)

the view between villages - remus, obviously. this was an opinion i saw a lot on tiktok a while ago, and therefore this was one of the few songs of his id already heard. its so incredibly remus that i cant even try imagining anyone else.

homesick - its giving regulus tbh. i could maybe see sirius, to an extent, but i cant assign it to anyone else wholly but regulus.

northern attitude - sirius. 10000% sirius. i feel like i shouldnt even need to explain it, its just sirius.

stick season - look, okay. i know—i know—people have claimed this for wolfstar. i know. but i just hear regulus. i will explain if need be but its just... its regulus. im sorry but it is.

call your mom - this is one where context from the wip mentioned above would be useful, but spoilers, so all ill say is: sirius to james. the part of the fic im thinking of was originally inspired by forever winter by taylor swift but i actually think call your mom fits what ive written for it so far even better. thats all ill say. (yall know i love giving jamie issues <3)

fear of water - definitely regulus near the start of jegulus. it just makes sense in my head and its all i can think. admittedly, i did decide to listen to this one because my first thought was regulus and the cave because i cant see anything to do with water without thinking of him, but the song itself is 100% early jegulus from reg's pov.

dial drunk - regulus, again. yeah ik i talk about him a lot but ITS REGULUS. and the person hes calling is definitely sirius :( again im kind of relating this to part of the wip above, so maybe i have bias, but this song is regulus. it just is.

i didnt end up listening to many others because i wanted to listen to a pokemon podcast i was part way through yesterday so this is all ive got for rn

[forgottenroisin]

Malconaire Samain Traditions

AUTHOR'S NOTES

ok so!!! before i get into this too much, some author's notes, starting w fun facts abt irl samhain (which i wrote samain above bc that's the old irish spelling and we're mostly going w old irish spellings here -- caoimhe rather than keeva, etc) that im running w here are as follows: ancient celtic tradition holds w largely two types of major celebration on their quartered calendar: Beltaine and Samhain which occurred on opposite times of the year, and Imbolc and Lughnasa which also straddled the year. The latter set marked important crop rotations: sowing and harvesting the fields.

The former, however, are said to have been dedicated to the movements of cattle herds and their shephards. At Beltaine, the shephards and their flocks would wrap up their half year of having held their beasts at home amongst the village in the valleys where they were safe from winter snows. at samhain, the shephards would do the opposite: begin driving their herds home across the treacherous montain passes from where they had been grazing in upland pastures for six months, and heading home to the valleys. Both Samhain and Beltane were seen as liminal or threshold holidays. Yet, they were also seen as inverse of one another, with Beltane being a festival for the living and Samhain for the dead.

Many Irish and British Neolithic tombs are aligned such that they are illuminated by the light of the sun as it over Samhain and Imbolc.

In Celtic belief, all spirits appear to be interlinked, w ghosts alternately appearing as faries or gods and vice versa, so I've used guardians, gods, and ghosts here where I thought most appropriate as stand ins but yeah this is just my interpretation??? Anyway, fairy mounds are often literally burial mounds so make of that what you will! I did ultimately choose to include ghosts but I strongly considered restricting it to purely guardians and gods, but yeah! Lmk if you think I should go back and restrict it to just those two!

Samhain in Ireland and Scotland are pr similar, so there'll def bc riffs from both cultures but, bc Rosie's name means little rose, and the very related ancient Welsh tradition of Calan Gaeaf ties in both roses AND ivy v strongly, I'm gonna be pulling a lot from that, as well.

I'm also gonna steal some Venetian St. Mark's Day beliefs and practices and English St. Mark's Eve ones. I have zero excuse except that it dovetails really nicely, and that its frankly sooo fitting for our Miss Rosie.

all the 'tales' here are inspired and even drawn directly from ancient lore!

Cleansing fire and light, cleaning, divination, guising (dressing up and trick or treat-esque shenanigans), dancing, mummery, saining (blessings), feasting, belief that spirits (good and evil, human and fae and godly and demoic, etc) walk amongst us that night, and veneration of the dead are common themes, and it is believed that it is this time when the veil is thinnest between the various otherworlds and our own.

Samhain is a last deep breath before the plunge. It is a time of preparing for the death of winter to come. Interestingly, Samain, the Old Irish root word for Samhain, is thought to come from an ancient word for 'summer,' though it was celebrated in November. No one knows why, but imma lean into it as a rebirth kind of symbolism -- yknow that 'spring in winter' sort of concept. Another explanation is that Samain comes from yet another ancient word that means 'reuninion, assembly,' and imma lean into that, too.

There was initially a fortnight of celebrations for Samain, which overtime got cut down to our modern night of Halloween, so idk how long this celebration should last hahaha and i deliberately left the timeline vague bc of that

Conveniently, I'd already hc'ed that Rosie actually views autumn as more a time of rebirth than spring (weirdly enough, it was actually one of my v first hc's for her!), and all this will allow me to tie it in nicely with her character theme of wonder <3

(Also disclaimer that you might notice some similarities between this and my TFW not!halloween traditions in which case...no you didn't ;DDDDD its just that i was inspired by the same sources hahaha except here i pulled in welsh and venetian things as my secondary instead of ancient roman and greek things aklsjdflkjdfdf)

SAMAIN TRADITIONS

like her sisters, rosie was born around the time of an ancient astairan holiday, causing the celebrations to overlap in malconaire

hers falling near samhain, an autumnal festival celebrating the midpoint between the autumn equinox and the winter solstice, and is held to mark the beginning of winter

it is said that it is at this time that the veil between this world and the other is said to be at its thinnest and, thus, the guardians are feted in an effort to strengthen them during this most dangerous period, w seers and all the ppl of astaira gathering to do whatever they can to help

it is a time of unity and mutual faith, generosity and thanksgiving, of finding strength and hope and cheer in ourselves and in one another even as things grow their darkest

as twilight gleams its last, all the fires in the region are put out and a great bonfire lit by a seer at the local shrine. from this protective blaze, every fire in the region is relit so that cleansing, protective fire burns for the guardians against the gods in every home, every shrine, and every gathering place across all malconaire

it is said that on this night, sometimes even non-seers can hear the whisperings of the guardians -- and that, at times -- the howls of the gods echo across the world, but beware to any who hears ought, for gods can appear and speak as any being they wish and, it is said, one must never trust a stranger who arrives upon samhain who will not go into the light

according to ancient tradition, anyone who believes w a true heart may wield some of the powers of a true seer because the veil is so thin, and in addition to being able to hear the voices of gods and guardians, can also sometimes hear the voices of their deceased loved ones

sometimes this is said to be a trick of the evil gods, but many believe that deceased loved ones do in fact arise

in addition to the fires, many gifts of food and drink and harvest and flowers etc are offered to the guardians, in addition to gifts of delights and entertainments such as dances and plays

as it is said that ghosts rise from their graves at this time, whether crossing over from an otherworld or revived by the power of the wicked gods, welcoming feasts are held in every home and, during the feasts, in addition to offerings made to the guardians, places are set for dead members of the family who may be visiting their loved ones while they are able

hoping to thwart any wicked spirits or gods who might be walking the earth, many wear a guise each night when the protective power of the sun is snuffed out

bc it is said that everyone may have use of a seers powers, it is also tradition to go from house to house and give offerings and blessings back and forth there, and this is often when fires from the great shrine bonefire are brought to each home, as well

following feasting in homes, there is also a tradition of gathering around the great bonfire in the evening and sharing sweets

while there, dancing and plays go on with gift-giving continuing well into the night

traditionally, one carves their name into a stone and then tosses it into the fire. those stones that had had the name burned clean off of it will receive good fortune. those whose names are still writ upon the stones will do well to take care over the course of the winter, with death or misfortune said to hunt them

Myths, legends, and ghost stories are all frequently told around the bonfire, with some tales being considered specific to Samain, and others simply tall tales or simply invented stories, but whatever their origin, stories play a highly important role on Samain, both as offerings and as entertainment. i'll include one or two as a sample somewhere in here

traditionally, all across astaira, peace was delcared during samain and it was a great time of unification, of treaties, of mending fences great and small, neighbor to neighbor and nation to nation, alike, w any conflict or even grudge, save that against the gods, being seen as borderline blasphemous, and an insult to the guardians for all efforts must be communally poured into that conflict at this time

in this same vein, it is a time for housekeeping, both great and small -- houses are cleaned, spick and span, and great councils are called by the rulers to undergo yearly reforms

anyone who broke laws during this time would, therefore, be banished for the rest of the year for the grievous offence of having wounded the goodwill of the guardians

traditionally, astairans avoid crossroads during samain, said to be haunted by nefarious deadmen and gods

on the morning samain, young and unmarried people traditionally go out into the fields and collect ivy and autumn roses. traditionally, girls collect ivy while boys pick roses, after which they come together again, with the girls presenting the boys they admire with ivy and the boys presenting roses to the girls they fancy. if a couple's presentations are mutual, they then wind them together and create crowns of roses-and-ivy to wear. at the end of the day, each girls collects all the roses she has been given, and each boy all his ivy and mingle them till they do not know who gave which. then they toss one into the bonfire for the guardians are return home, placing the remaining plants under their pillow. it is said that they will then dream of their future and, if they remember any of the dream, some of it will come true in the coming year. it is also sometimes said that if they dream of a particular other person, they will likely wed that person.

unmarried women are instructed to darken their rooms in the evening, and then a married woman can look into the mirror to see the face of the future groom. If a skull appears in the mirror, the unmarried woman is meant to die within the year. If a future groom cannot be seen, unmarried women are instructed to peel an apple and throw the skin over their shoulders. The shape the apple skin makes is said to show the first initial of her future husband

just before midnight, any remaining children are bundled off to bed and, then, it is tradition for those who wish to see to gather on the holy ground of the shrine, for surrounded by the guardians is the only way one may safely witness what is to come. those who do not wish to see must return quickly home and close all their windows and close their eyes and try to sleep, for any not protected by the guarian who looks upon it shall die on the spot. those who stay at the shrine may see, but they must maintain absolute silence or it is said they shall never see again. at midnight, the dead walk. a whole squadron of them troop by, but if one should spot oneself or any known to one trooping with them, that person is doomed to die within the year. some say the cause of death may even be observed, drowned victims soaked to the bone or hanged men marching with nooses around their necks, and such the like.

games and friendly competitions around the bonfire are common, such as dares and apple bobbing

two hazelnuts roast near a fire; one named for the person roasting them and the other for the person the desire. If the nuts jump away from the heat, it is a bad sign, but if the nuts roast quietly, it foretells an excellent match. 

Items were hidden in food—usually a cakes and breads — and portions of it served out at random. A person's future is foretold by the item they happened to find; for example, a ring means marriage, and a coin means wealth

A salty oatmeal bannock was baked; the person ate it in three bites and then went to bed in silence without anything to drink. This was said to result in a dream in which their future spouse offers them a drink to quench their thirst

Egg whites are dropped in water, and the shapes foretell the number of future children

SAMPLE OF SAMAIN TALES

story of a seer who rushed up to the door to the otherworld in the repulsion of gods, but closed the door as the gods were sealed off on his thumb. he then sucked on his wounded thumb and, from that moment, was said to have gained otherworldly wisdom but the cost was that he was, too, a link that the gods had to this world so he ultimately sealed himself, too, away inside a tree using their own magic to bind himself so that he could harm no one, but it is said that the gods have no mercy and that they force his ghost to walk the world on the night of Samain and sow the seeds of their ill-will for the year to come.

the monstrous gods used to demand two-thirds of the ppl's crops and livestock and even children during samain before they were sealed away, causing many to starve

a certain god, it is said, would command three men to go to a certain goddess every Samain to seduce her. when they inevitably failed, he would take their lives and force them to walk the world as his undead vessels for the rest of the year, wreaking untold havoc upon the world till at least one did succeed and the goddess gave him her magical garter. before the god killed his two companions, the goddess' lover, said sometimes to be from the snail house and alternately from the frog house, warned the vile god that it would spell his own doom if he struck those men down. laughing, the evil god did so, and so the lover used the magic girdle to fight and defeat him and help the guardians seal him away ((fun fact, this is drawn from a story said to have been the origin of the bog men...hence the frog or snail house being involved!))

one samain night, before the veil was raised against the gods, the king offered a prize to any who could tie a band around a hanged man's ankle. each challenger after the other fled in terror to the king's hall but one. when the band was tied, the dead man asked for a drink so, feeling pity for the hanged man, the challenger carried him on his back, stopping at three houses. when they entered the third, the dead man drank and spat it on the householders, killing them. returning to the gallows to bind him again, the challenger spotted an army of the gods burning the king's hall and slaughtering those inside. the challenger pursued the host through a portal into an otherworld where he learned that what he had seen since touching the hanged man was only a vision of what would happen the next samain unless something was done. he returned to the hall and warned the king, and astaira began to arm themselves against the gods who plotted against them.

another tale tells of a man who fell deeply in love w a goddess before the veil was raised against them. so in love was he that he followed her to an otherworld, despite her warnings that if he followed her, he could never return home. they lived happily together for two years before he began to long for home. watching him pine away, the goddess agreed to allow him to visit the mortal realm on her own horse, but only if he solemnly swore never to dismount the horse which would take him there and then back to her. he hastily agreed and started on his way. yet, when he arrived, he found that in the mortal realm two hundred years, and not two, had passed and that everyone he loved had died. distressed to see their graves, he fell from the horse to kiss them, but as soon as he stepped upon the ground, mortality found him and he grew old and died on the spot, collapsing as no more than bones and dust upon the earth of the graves of those he loved.

according to legend, the tradition of presenting roses and ivy to a lover originated when a man of low social standing is said to have fallen in love with a lady of house malconaire known for wearing ivy in her hair. in order to win her father's approval -- who said he might only wed his daughter if he could prove his love for her was true -- he became involved in a distant war. he was mortally wounded in battle, but managed to pluck a rose from a nearby rosebush for his loved one. a companion was entrusted with returning the blood-stained rose to his lover, who cast the ivy from her hair and wore the rose until the day she died. from their graves, buried beside each other, ivy and roses still grow.

CHARACTER HC'S

it was during samain, many years ago, that domhnall and later his heir, eilionora, offered roderick a treaty but both efforts he rebuffed. to the first effort to achieve peace he did not reply. yet when eilia tried again, he did, sending her only a piece of paper that bore simply a list of the countries he'd already conquered, with astaira's name listed at the bottom. eilia did not try again.

on the samain before bran and sorcha began courting, he decided that he would woo her with the traditional roses. sadly, however, he wasn't able to get out into the fields until late and, when he finally did, all that were left were very, very small roses, indeed. fortunately, she had the same idea and presented him with ivy as well. when she saw the wee rosebuds, which he presented with some embarrassment, saying he ought to have given her something far greater, she laughed and declared that someday he would -- if they ever had a daughter born in autumn, her name should be roisin, for the first gift he had ever given to her.

last samain, rosie presented edmund with ivy, forgetting he problably knew nothing of the tradition (and would likely consider it heresy, if he did!) realizing too late that he probably didn't know what she was telling him, she laughed and made a joke of it, weaving him a ivy crown, anyway, saying that if he meant to rule over astaira, someday, he best pay attention as he would have to know how to make a flower crown. she never mentioned it again.

bran threw eggs into water with sorcha the year they were married. when her egg predicted four children and his six, he was terrified it might mean he would outlive her and she laughed and told him that was a ridiculous thing to suppose, for he'd come to their marriage with two children already: his raven, and malconaire.

the year of sorcha's death, she stayed out to watch the ghosts walk, hoping for a last glimpse of a loved one whom she had just lost, while bran took the children home to sleep. she was drawn and white when bran awoke the next morning and, though she made jokes of it when he mentioned it and proceeded about her day, she seemed distracted, but would say nothing of what she had seen. at the time, bran only assumed that she was distressed about her loss, but after she died, he always wondered if perhaps she had seen her own spirit on the march that night.

though usually done privately for their parents, rosie always enjoyed mumming with her sisters at samain, telling tall tales and dramatic ones alike amongst themselves

while she hasn't done any mummery since childhood, as she imagines its likely not dignified for a lady of her age and position, she does still enjoy guising and generally dresses as favorite heroines from fairy tales and other stories. she is convinced cassandra would enjoy this as well and wants to bring her to such an event one of these years. no o ne can seem to convince her this is terrible idea.

cillian stays out late every year to watch the souls pass and, every year, he informs saoirse that he has seen her go by, but she says she'll have her revenge one of these days, because someday he ~will see her, and then he'll be sorry when he has to tell her so and she laughs in his face.

[haddonfieldwhore]

unexpected- bela dimitrescu

bela dimitrescu x reader

warnings: brief violence, mentions of blood/blood drinking, potential stockholm syndrome undertones? this probably has so many plot holes, maybe hints of nsfw for like 2 seconds

you felt your knees scrape against the stone floor as you were thrown to the ground, along with 2 other people who were in the same position. you had been on a solo hiking trip when you got well… incredibly lost, to say the least. you weren’t sure what the case was for the other abductees, but you assumed something similar happened for them to end up in this enormous castle along with you.

your head felt fuzzy and your vision was slightly blurred from bumping your head, as you heard what sounded like… insects? in the middle of winter? you must have hit your head harder than you thought. the buzzing sound was replaced with the sound of laughter - the unfriendly kind - as three figures dressed in dark clothes seemed to almost materialize in the room with you, until one of them stood over each of you. you looked up at the figure, now able to see that it was a blonde woman, with dark makeup and was that- blood? dripping down her lips? regardless, you couldn’t help but think that you had never seen anyone so-

“beautiful,” you muttered, unintentionally saying the end of your thought aloud. she looked at you curiously, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of her dark stained lips. “i - im sorry.. i didn’t-,” you mumbled, as she leaned closer,her face now a few inches above yours. you could now tell that you had in fact heard insects; they were flying around her and crawling across her body. you found yourself unable to speak, both in awe of her beauty and terrified of whatever she was going to do to you.

“well,” she laughed. “i must say, that is not quite the reaction i’m used to from captured prey.” her dark fingernails traced along your collarbone, and you shivered. what exactly did she mean by prey? your attention was drawn to your left, and one of the other captives let out an ear piercing scream, and you saw one of the other cloaked figures biting into his neck. you felt the blondes cold hand on your throat, turning you head back to look at her.

“i’ll do anything you want,” you said, staring up at her with innocent eyes, and it sent an excited chill up the woman’s spine.

“i know you will, little one.”

•••

that had been three months ago, and you counted your blessings every day that you were still alive. you were the only one of the three humans captured that day, and you still were in disbelief when you woke up each morning. bela, the blonde who had taken you, had surprised even herself when she made the decision to keep you. maybe your blood tasted that good, or maybe she liked the way you looked at her, you weren’t sure, but you found yourself quickly growing fond of the eldest dimitrescu sister.

cassandra and daniela, bela’s younger siblings, were perhaps even more shocked when the blonde had said a week after you had arrived, that you were off limits; not to be harmed in any way. the specifics didn’t matter, whether you were her pet or personal blood bag, you were hers and hers alone. you have her blood when she needed to feed, and despite her mothers protests, bela had designated a bedroom near hers to be yours. her mother, alcina, was against keeping a human here for any reason other than to drain them dry of their blood, other than the maids. you offered to work, free of charge (keeping your life was payment enough in your eyes). the money was not an issue to the countess, but she surrendered and agreed after belas constant pestering.

her sisters were shocked; they had never seen their older sister like this, and frankly, it scared them a little. how could they trust someone like you- an outsider, a human? sure, you had very little chance of ever escaping the castle and even less of a chance of getting out of the village alive and alerting anyone of their existence. and who would believe you? bela kept you on a short leash, never letting you too far out of her sight; not that you were complaining. from the small amount you had explored the castle, you knew you would get lost in a heartbeat, or find yourself in inescapable danger.

you were sitting in the garden, admiring the flowers, your fingers tracing the delicate petals of the roses that somehow were still in bloom in the cold winter. one of the maids came out to find you, since the sisters could not go out in the cold.

“lady bela is asking for you, dear,” she spoke. the other maids were friendly enough towards you, but a little cautious, knowing you were so close to bela and not wanting to get on any of the dimitrescus bad side.

“thank you, mary,” you smiled. “do you have scissors with you?” you asked the older woman. she patted the pockets of her apron, and found a small pair of shears, offering them to you. you thanked her again, carefully snipping a single red rose from the bush. you have back the shears and headed inside, carefully carrying the bloom with you as you hurried to bela’s room.

you knocked on the door, hiding the rose behind your back while you waited for her to open the door. you smiled at the blonde when she appeared in the doorway, and she looked you up and down playfully.

“what are you hiding, little dove?” she asked, a smile spreading across her face as you presented the rose to her. “does mother know you’re stealing her flowers again?” she teased as she took it gently from your hand, admiring the crimson petals.

“no, but i’m hoping she won’t miss just one of them. and i thought since you don’t get to see them all winter…” you explained, and she smiled back at you.

“very thoughtful. thank you.” she sniffed the air slightly. “are you bleeding?” you looked down as she grabbed your hand, and there was indeed a pin prick of blood on one of your fingers.

“it must be from one of the thorns- im sorry.” you apologized, but she just laughed, bringing your fingertip to her lips and sucking gently it, until the bleeding stopped.

“all better,” she smiled. she walked over to the dresser and placed the rose in a vase, taking out a long dead one that you had brought her weeks ago.

“mary said you were looking for me?” you remembered why you came inside in the first place.

“do i need a reason to want to see you?” she teased. bela often danced around answering questions, but you had grown used to it at this point. “come here,” she said, now sitting on the bed. you obeyed, sitting next to her, before she tackled you into the bed, pinning you down.

“bells-“ you exclaimed as her weight on top of you knocked the wind out of you. she smiled at the nickname, and you could see her sharp canines.

“you know, i already ate this morning but i can’t help myself; you taste too sweet,” she laughed, but instead of biting your neck like you thought she would, she leaned down and pressed her lips to yours. your eyes widened, but you couldn’t help but kiss her back. her lips were surprisingly soft, and even as her teeth nibbled at your bottom lip, you couldn’t help but notice how gentle she was being.

her kisses trailed down your jaw, before you felt the familiar sensation of her fangs sinking into your neck. it hurt, but you had grown used to the feeling by now, having given her your blood many times. you were starting to feel dizzy, and almost as if she could tell, bela pulled away, smiling with red stained teeth at the way your fingers clung tightly the the fabric of her sleeve.

“rest, little human,” she muttered, pulling the blankets over your tired form and tucking you into her bed. you could barely keep your eyes open, but you could’ve sworn you felt the bed dip next to you.

•••

you awoke a few hours later, although you weren’t sure what time it was as the curtains in the castle were always closed to keep out the sun and the winter air. despite the castles cold interior, you were warm and cozy, and you looked at the bedding around you, delicate patterns of black and red surrounding you. the felt someone stroking you hair gently, and could hear a quiet humming from the person sat next to you. you looked up to see bela sat with her back against the headboard.

“good morning sleepy head,” she teased. “did you sleep well?” you nodded in response, although still tired. unable to stop yourself, you curled closer to her, wrapping your arms around her waist and laying your head in her lap. she made a small gasp in surprise, as never in her life had someone clung to her so adorably. how could she feel this way about a human? she thought to herself, surely her mother and sisters would berate her for going soft.

to say that bela never expected to be in this situation was perhaps the biggest understatement ever. but your soft little sounds you made as you snuggled into her, despite her lack of body heat, made her cold heart swell for the first time in what felt like forever.

“stay close to me little dove,” she cooed. “there are horrors in this world you could never even dream. but i will keep you safe.” she gently touched the two small puncture wounds on your neck where her fangs had pierced your skin.

“i will be the only thing to ever harm you.”

[racoonpookiedepartment]

Wholesome Dimitrescu Hospitality (Sub Ethan)

Ethan Winters x Male Reader

Bottom Ethan x Top reader

This is my favorite thing to write, I hope you all do enjoy :D

Do take this as rough draft, I will make better very soon! Once series complete I will make very long writing and post it all!

Part 1 of 3!

You were the youngest of the Dimitrescu family, you had your two brother and then your father Lord Dimitrescu, the tallest of the group.

When you were younger you were of the shortest in the family, and now you were the second tallest, your brothers were jealous of your height but even if they were smaller they certainly knew more than you.

Your father never let you leave the castle, you’d have to sneak out and farthest you’ve ever gotten was the front gate.

You’ve never been outside of the village, let alone outside of Romania, you didn’t even know much about other people.

You knew lycans were a thing, and other vampires but that’s it. You barely even understand your anatomy.

You can turn into a swarm of flies at will, you’ve never understood the power, but you can use it.

Your father taught you one valuable lesson, you can’t trust anyone outside the village, but you weren’t sure if anyone was outside the village anyway.

You made a secret promise to yourself that if you ever were to come across someone not from the village, you’d show them kindness and now be scary like Lord Dimitrescu was.

And the next thing was that you had to make sure they never crossed paths with Uncle Heisenberg, the second scariest of the lord’s (and your best friend)

Your father and your brothers had to leave to castle to handle something they had left you to guard the castle

“If you find anyone breaking into the castle grounds, hang them in the living room and we’ll have them for dinner tonight” Lord Dimitrescu ordered

“Yes father, of course” you replied, your father gently padded your head

“Good boy Y/n. Alright, we shall return soon” he said, they left the castle and you wasted a few hours doing various things around the castle.

You had just left a hot bath when you felt a chill from your room, you covered yourself in a towel and sniffed the air

“Lycan? No.. Brother?.. no it can’t be” you said in your head, you disperse and enter your room, a blonde man in a beige jacket is panting on the ground, he gets up and closes your window.

You sneak up behind the man and reform, you put on your deepest voice and bare your fangs

“You dare trespass in Castle Dimitrescu!” You howl, the blonde man yelps and backs up into the corner, his gun raised towards you. You didn’t know what guns were, the only weapons the castle had were either your claws or primitive.

“Who are you? What do you want?” He asked in horror

“I’m.. im Y/n Dimitrescu!” You said with your bravest voice, the man still looked scared. You put down your blade and reached out to the man, you didn’t realize your claws were still out until the man looked away and fired his weapon.

Of course your skin was bullet proof and they only left scratches, but you’ve never felt that before

“Ah! Why.. what was that for?” You asked offended, the blonde man looked back

“You.. you were trying to kill me” he said, you tilted your head

“I.. I thought you were trying to kill me?” You said, the blonde man lowered his gun

“Oh.. I.. I’m sorry I scared you” he apologized

“It’s alright, are you lost pup?” You asked, it wasn’t uncommon for a lycan pup to get lost in the village and seek the castle for guidance, your father was good friends with Urias the king of lycans and they’d often go to either of the men for guidance.

“Pup? I’m.. im not a dog” the man said slightly offended, you tilted your head

“You aren’t a lycan?” You asked curiously

“No, I’m a human” he stated, your eyes lit up with curiosity.

“A human? Interesting, where are you from human? Do you come from the village?” You ask

“No, I’m from Los Angeles, I’m lost” he said, you back up from the man who was still in the corner

“What’s your name Human?” You ask

“Ethan, Ethan Winters” he replied

“Lovely name Mr. Winters” you compliment, Ethan blushes at the comment

“T- thank you” he says turning away so you don’t see the blush on his cheeks. You forgot you were still in just a towel

“Sorry for the lack of clothing, here have a seat I’ll be right with you” you state, Ethan takes a seat at your vanity and you turn to your wardrobe, your towel drops the the floor and Ethan accidentally gets a peek at your rather large but soft cock swinging between your legs, you finish getting dressed and turn back to Ethan, he was blushing and looked away as soon as you made eye contact

“Are you alright?” You ask

“Y- yeah of course, but I” he grunts before finishing his sentence

“Can you help?” He asks, he raises his mangled hand and shows you the damage

“Dear Miranda, a lycan did this?” You ask, he nods

“I’m not gonna.. turn into one of those right?” He asked

“Worry not human, we have antidotes” you reassured, you search around in the room for a minute before coming back to Ethan, you sprayed down his hand and wiped up the blood, you have him the anti virus shot and bandaged his hand up

“Feel better human?” You ask, his hand still in your ands

“Much better, thank you” he said, you gently squeezed his hand

“Good, you’re very dirty human, may I clean you?” You asked, Ethan looked at himself then back at you

“I wouldn’t mind a wash” Ethan said with a nervous laugh, you take his hand again and lead him to the washroom

“Come with me human, I’ll help you” you said, you led him into the washroom and sat down beside the tub and started the warm bath.

“Shall I help you remove your clothing?” You ask

“I-.. a little, my shoulder is.. messed up” he said,

“Very well” you state, you help Ethan take off his jacket, and his sweater, you had to tear off his undershirt as the white button up was now red. Ethan reach down to undo his belt but whined and leaned back up

“Are you alright human?” You ask

“Sorry, my back is.. damn” he he whined, you pulled him closer towards you

“Worry not human, I’ll take care of you” you said, you undid his belt and pulled down his stained jeans, you now gazed up at the man, his torso covered in a light blonde coat, he was a beautiful man.

“May I?” You ask as your fingers gently tugged the Tommy hilfigure band on his boxers

“S- sure” Ethan said, as you pulled off his boxers his face turned a little red, his half hard on just an inch away from your face.

You test the bath water with your fingers

“All ready human, please sit” you instructed, Ethan climbed into the tub and leaned back

“This is.. so nice” he said, the warm water was giving his sore muscles much needed relief.

You gently washed the blood and dirt off the man, gently wiping his face earning a giggle from the ticklish man. He leaned up so you could wash his back aswell, you noticed the amount of scars he had, you even notice the large scar on his hand. You were taught not to ask about people’s scars, it was deemed disrespectful and nosey to ask about someone’s pain.

“Have you eaten at all human?” You ask

“I haven’t eaten in.. a while actually” he replied

“I shall cook you a meal, what do humans eat?” You ask, you knew what vampires ate, and lycans, but not humans. Ethan thought for a minute

“We do love chicken, cooked.. preferably” he said with a nervous laugh

“Very funny human, we do understand the concept of cooking” you said with a laugh, you give Ethan a small pan and a bottle

“Here human, you may use this for your hair, I’ll set fresh clothes on the bed. Once you’re ready, follow the scent of the food.” You explained you walked up to the door before Ethan spoke again

“Hey can you.. can you stay? For a minute?” He asked

“Of course human, I don’t mind” you replied, Ethan smiled. He continued to wash his hair and finished washing off

“Thank you.. f- for staying” he said

“My pleasure human” you said. You handed Ethan a towel and went off to cook some chicken for him. Some time passed and eventually Ethan made his way to the kitchen. You handed him his food and sat patiently while he ate. You noticed how his fangs tore up the chicken and the way he swallowed, just like a lycan.

“That was.. that was amazing” he complimented

“I’m glad you enjoyed it human” you stated, you took his plate and left it off in the sink. You were about to talk again before your ear picked up the sound of the front gates opening.

“Human you must be silent” you sir quietly, you dispersed and carried the man back into your quarters.

“Stay here, don’t make too much noise alright?” You said, Ethan nodded and hid in your wardrobe. You quickly dispersed and got rid of all traces the man left behind and reformed when you heard

“Y/n, the foyer.” Your father hollered, you got there as quickly as possible

“Yes father?” You replied

“Come here, I must see something” he said, you got up close to him.

“Try these on, we figured you might like them” your father said, he handed you some new clothing

“Quickly now, I must leave soo- he stopped mid sentence. He sniffed the air and looked around. His eyes wandered the large hall and fell back on you

“You smell like outsider” he said, he drew his claws.

“Who did you let in?” He asked, your father was only this angry when he would fight someone, and it looked like it was you that would be sliced to ribbons.

“Just the Duke father, I visited him while you were away” you lied. His claws instantly retracted

“My apologies, I hope he is well. Very well, go on try your garments. Quickly now” he commanded

“Of course father” you replied, you quickly made it back to your quarters. You tried on the clothes he gifted you and he gave us feedback. Soon enough he was gone again. You went back to your quarters in your new outfit. You immediately checked the closet

“Human?” You called out, but there was no answer

“Who you talking to N/n?” Your brother A asked, you were startled

“Oh, didn’t mean to scare you” he said, he walked into your room from the washroom

“What are you in my room Cass?” You asked

“I smelled man blood” he replied, your eyes widened

“No you didn’t” you tried to brush it off

“Oh really, then what’s this?” He asked holding ethans bloody bandage in his hand

“This is fresh.” He stated

“I spilled a vial ok, I just cleaned it” you lied hoping your brother would accept it and leave

“I’m not sure I believe you little brother.” He said, he stood up from the bed and was about to interrogate you farther until you heard your oldest brother calling out to you

“N/n? Have you seen Cass?!” He asked

“I’m coming B!” Cass yelled back

“This isn’t over little brother, I’ll see you later” he said, he left your quarters and you locked the door behind him. You waited until you couldn’t hear his footsteps anymore before you called out again

“Human? Human? Where are you?” You called out, you heard shuffling from the washroom, you ran to check what it was and it was Ethan. He had somehow squeezed behind a broken part of the wall, you practically floated to hug him tight

“Human! You’re alright, I was so worried” you said, he was wrapped tightly in your arms and you nuzzled deep into his neck, the smaller man wraps his arms around you aswell

“Sorry, I thought I heard you and I came out but.. I saw that guy and I just ran” he explained

“It’s alright human I’m just glad you’re..” you stopped your sentence, Ethan was sweating. And it got on your fingers

“Alright..” you finished, the temptation of trying human sweat overcame all of your senses, Ethan blushed and he saw your reaction to it.

“Are you.. are you ok Y/n?” He asked

“You smell.. so good” you said, your fangs popped out and your eyes were glowing. Ethan watched as you licked his sweat from your fingers

“You taste.. amazing.” You said, Ethan turned red at the comment

“T- thank you?” He said, you couldn’t resist your hunger anymore

“May I taste you more human?” You asked, Ethan noticed the more animalistic side you were taking on, and as much as he wanted to be scared, it excited him. You could hear his heart beating faster.

“Of course.. what did you want to ta- ah!” Ethan yelped at you swiftly bending down and practically licking his neck clean of sweat, you being that close to him made him sweat even more. You gently licked his lips, you’ve always wanted to do that.

“You taste.. amazing human..” you stated, ethan could’ve speak because he was so flustered. You noticed his blood was rushing somewhere else, you paused for a moment worrying about him.

“My.. apologizes human, I.. I lose myself sometimes” you apologized

“It’s ok... I.. I liked it” Ethan said quietly, you gently took Ethan to your bed.

“I do have to say human, you have.. very soft lips..” you complimented, ethans cheeks burned pink

“You too.. can I.. can I ask you something?” He asked

“Of course human, what would you like?” You asked

“Can I.. can I kiss you?” He asked, he instantly looked away and turned red after asking

“Kiss? You want to.. kiss me?” You asked, you’ve never been kissed before, it was something you often thought about.

“Yeah.. please? I’ll he gentle” he said

“Sure human, have at- your reply was cut off by ethans soft lips connecting with yours. And just as fast as it started, it was over

That was your first kiss. And it wasn’t the last. You covered ethans lips with more kisses, all over his cheek even his neck, you enjoyed all the groans and moans that came out of Ethans mouth during the barrage of kisses.

You kissed him so much you unconsciously pulled his shirt off and got on top of him, you realized and stopped

“I’m.. I’m sorry human, I didn’t mean to..‘I didn’t mean to do that” you apologized, ethan whined in disappointment

“Hey I.. I was enjoying that” he said with a sad whimper

“Oh, I’ll keep going” you said, you covered Ethan in more kisses, you gasped when you felt ethans hand touch between your legs. You weren’t exactly sure what your cock was for besides reproduction, and you’ve been a virgin your whole life.

“Human? What are you.. doing?” You asked

“I was.. giving you a hand job? This is.. foreplay right?” He asked, you titled your head

“Foreplay?” You questioned

“It’s.. what you do before.. sex..” he explained, you were still confused.

“Would you like me to teach you?” He asked

“Yes please.. please human?” You begged

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you” he said, Ethan climbed on top of you and gave you another kiss.

Part 2 soon :D