#they all had their own unique ways of winning their games

[fanaticsnail]

Play Stupid Games, Win Stupid Prizes

Masterlist Here, Pollen Masterlist Here

Word count: 7,500+

Synopsis: Doffy is attempting to gain the upper hand against you. He's longed for you, yearned for you - in his own unique way. Considering you never give in to his flirtatious advances, he takes matters into his own hands and attempts to spike your drink. The problem? Your quick wit and nimble fingers switch whisky glasses with him, causing unforeseen problems that he has no cure for…

Warnings: Doflamingo x f!reader, NSFW, 18+, Mdni, smut, pollen fic, Pollen!Doffy x Unaffected!reader, dubcon, size difference (Doffy is 10’, reader is 5’+), degradation - Doffy receiving, yandere Doffy, Doffy is a brat, mentions of drugging, mention of poison, Doflamingo is a conniving bastard, swearing, choking - Doffy receiving, Doflamingo is his own warning, Doffy begs, toxic relationship, Doffy is infatuated, love confession, marriage proposal. ‘Mi amor,’ ‘Mami,’ femme titles used for reader.

Notes: this may not be everyone's cuppa, and it was absolutely something different I decided to try for pollen. Please read the warnings before reading the fic.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @gingernut1314 @feral-artistry @nerium-lil @writingmysanity

Sitting at the lengthy dining table, Donquixote Doflamingo extended his glass out towards the gathering of eclectic individuals. Each person present had an array of wealth, titles and reputation; all represented with their names embroidered into their napkins and painted into their drinking glasses.  

Doflamingo had planned everything perfectly. He had plotted each element of the meal to have everyone relax into the welcoming environment: keeping the air light and merry. There was not a fork out of place, nor a knife unaccounted for. He wanted the mood light enough to have you not suspecting a thing to go wrong.

And everything was going exceptionally well, all according to his plan. 

“To a long and healthy relationship between us all,” Doflamingo's smirk grew on his face, him turning to you with a small wink, “And to casting aside differences in the face of humility. Salud.”

“Salud,” you and the crowd repeated in unison, all arms extended with beverages in hand. 

Your glasses all contained gold letters depicting your names and titles on the rim. The servers ensured the liquid was all topped up with your chosen beverage for the night. Your choice? Whisky, neat with no frills nor ice to taint the liquid. Just like your host, Donquixote Doflamingo. 

All according to your plan. 

As soon as you received an invitation to attend this dinner party, you knew Doflamingo was planning something sinister for you. His silly little mind games he used to attempt to get the better of you were always centric to his plans. To embarrass you, to humiliate you, to harm you, to ridicule you: this was always the aim. And you had had just about enough of this torment. 

Getting information out of his menagerie of guards and house staff was simple enough. Offer them enough Berry, and their lips would never stop moving. Hearing Doflamingo’s disappearance in the town square, halting over a small shop stocked with pills and powders, had you mortified at his cruel fate he had in store for the evening. 

You expected poison to meet with your lips the moment you raised your glass to meet them. Your little game would rise to the greatest crescendo yet, you clutching at your rapidly closing throat and pleading for reprieve. Considering Doflamingo was the one to purchase the powdered poison, he would likely only offer you the antidote if you begged for it. 

In lieu of following through with the action of swallowing a heaping gulp of poisoned whiskey, you decided to give the pink-feathered bastard a taste of his own medicine. You reap what you sow, was how you figured it. 

“Fuck around and find out,” you chanted internally. Your soft, knowing smile drew over your features; watching Doflamingo drain the contents from the glass in his hand with gusto. You mirrored his action, downing the liquid in a single gulp. 

Doflamingo shot you a smirk, watching your face for any immediate changes to your body. A flush of your cheeks, a dilation of your pupils, your lips parting and becoming both drier and filling with saliva in unison. He was shocked when you returned his smile: only warmth being offered to him from your place across the dining table before turning to the woman beside you. 

He initially thought drugging you with a form of poison would be a hilarious sight: watching you claw at your neck and beg for the antidote in front of a room of his wealthy guests gave him a sick sense of satisfaction. But to give you an incredibly potent aphrodisiac with no known cure aside from giving into your cravings? Why, the thought alone made his cock twitch in eager anticipation.

He wanted nothing more than to have you shed your fine clothes of their place on your body, tearing them at the seams and beg for him to finally fuck you. He wanted you so desperate for him, you'd care not of the fact the room was full with those in your same league of formal standing. 

As you had always turned down his prior advances of you; he wanted to claim you publically, and leave no room for misinterpretation for his ownership of you. He wanted you to want him, to yearn for him, to plead for his cock with lust oozing from your body in rapid waves. 

He wanted you to want him in the same way he chased his release into his palm every night since your first introduction together. He wanted you the same way he would pay concubines to pretend to be you: copying your mannerisms, immigrating your vocal cadence, wearing similar attire. 

It was never enough for him. He wanted the real thing, and he hoped this final push would have you want him back. 

His craving to have you on your knees and begging for his cock to fill you to the brink with his cum, your neediness flushing your face, the whines and whimpers you'd elicit was too much for his mind to catch up with. He was already feeling aroused by the thought alone, confused at how alite his body felt with just the simple flash of erotic imagery. 

Suddenly the room was hot. Too hot. His clothes were too tight, the lights were too bright; causing him to wince behind his rosy glasses. His cheeks tinted with a soft pink, his body immediately becoming ignited with the hot beads of glistening sweat. 

He attempted to process the feeling, the stiffness of his erection brushing painfully against his striped, leather pants. Eyes widening and teeth clenching, he hissed out a winced breath as the sensitive buds of his nipples grazed against the open jacket firmly clutched against his chest. 

Looking down at the glass in his hands, his lips parted with horror. 

Your name was intricately painted in perfect cursive on the rim, each letter sparkling in the light illuminating the room. He snapped his face over to you, watching as your smile climbed up at the corners of your lips. 

Remaining blissfully unaware of how much torture you narrowly avoided, you asked the waiter for another glass of whiskey for yourself and your companion beside you.  

The glass in your hand had his name “Donquixote Doflamingo” in coiled lettering on the rim. As the waiter filled it, you held your eyes firmly against your conversation partner before you slowly sipped at the contents within. 

The cruel reality of his situation now dawned on him. 

He had unintentionally spiked himself with the incurable aphrodisiac, in public, instead of you. And now his body was desperate to see his lust satisfied by any means necessary. 

“And what did he say, Maria?” you asked the woman beside you, your attention fully fixed on her eyes as she relayed her tale. 

“He said: ‘a goddess as radiant as you should have men falling to their knees in adoration’,” Maria mocked in a lower, masculine tone. You bit back your smirk, eyeing her dangerously. 

“And what did you do in response to that?” you urged her with an excitement in your knowing tone. 

“I let him worship,” she smirked at you. Both of you became overcome with a fit of giggles, laughing at the sheer audacity of her promiscuous nature. You tapped her forearm with your hand playfully, enjoying a soft shove in return from her shoulder. 

Of the guests amongst you: Maria and you had known each other the longest. Both of you felt out of place here, being two of the few women present. You were roughly of similar ages, both unmarried and unspoken for. She had a soft-spot for the marines, her latest conquest being the right-hand man of Vice-Admiral Garp. 

“You are incorrigible,” you tease her, with a soft, “Atta girl,” added, nudging her with your shoulder before elevating your drinking glass up to take a sip. 

“Speaking of,” she returned your gentle nudge with one of her own, “Doflamingo’s glass? How'd you manage that?” She gestured to the cup in your hand. 

“Bribed the server,” you smirked, clinking the rim of the cup with the one in her own hand, “Had a feeling a game was afoot. And you know what they say,” you leant against her shoulder, both fixing your eyes on the blonde man at the head of the table. 

“Play stupid games,” you both uttered in unison, “Win stupid prizes," concluding with a sinister chuckle,

Your host for the night was hunched over the table, his teeth clenched firmly shut and soft beads of sweat were rapidly now gathering at his temple. This only solidified your suspicions, noticing the silence he was presenting in lieu of his usual conversation. 

Raising your brow, you remained focussed on him as the grip his hands perched against the table made his knuckles flash white. Curiosity plagued you, unsure as to why he was not asking his staff for the antidote to cure him. He was obviously under the effects of some kind of poison, his heavy breathing and indicator of such a plight. 

Why would he not ask for help? 

His eyes meet with yours, his frown deep and teeth grimacing. Quietly raising your eyebrows at him, you gently extend his glass in the air to add further sting to the ridicule. His eyes drew up to glare beneath his pink glasses. His pupils were focussed on your body, noticing every exposed area of flesh remaining unshrouded on the neckline of your button-up shirt. His eyes attempted to undress you, his gaze scorching you beneath his rose-tinted glasses. 

Noticing his gaze, you hum in deep thought. Shrugging your shoulders back, you turn to Maria beside you and give her a short nudge. Upon finishing her final bite of dessert, she turned towards you. 

“I’m going to go and gloat for a minute at my quick swipe,” you smirk at the woman to your side, “I'll be back once I'm satisfied he's ‘faced his humility’.” 

“Be safe!” she giggled, ushering you on with two quickened waves of her hands. 

“I'll be so safe,” you mocked her in return. Rising to your feet, you tucked your chair beneath the table and watched as several others did the same. All mingling amongst one another, you made yourself comfortable in a now vacant seat beside Doflamingo. 

“Doflamingo,” you nodded your acknowledgement, crossing your knees beneath the table and nudging his calf with your foot, “You've been awfully quiet tonight.” Trailing your toes over his calf, you noticed the hitch of his breath as he balled his knuckles into clenched fists. 

“Something amiss?” You asked him, placing down your drinking glass for the night while circling the rim with your index finger, “Something not quite going according to plan, perhaps?” Your smile grew as you noticed his shoulders tense, his breath hitch and his legs began to shake beneath your foot.

Gently trailing your toes higher, you eyed his reaction cautiously. His body was as hard as polished marble, his hair now slightly damp with a small amount of sweat gathering on his forehead. 

“Oh, Doffy,” you hissed a small whisper, your foot now tracing the outer edge of his thigh, “What the fuck were you attempting to poison me with this time?” You clicked your tongue at him, pouting through pursed lips, “Doesn't look like it's quite agreeing with you.”

“Out,” he whispered in a gruff bark. 

The quiet growl cut through the air like a steel knife carving through tough flesh. All guests immediately drew their eyes over to the pink-feathered host with a snap of their chins towards him. 

“I said out,” he snarled, his eyes frantically darting between each member attending the dinner party, “Everyone out. Out now.” 

You flinched at his change of tone, jumping back in your seat but refusing to hede to his dictation. Doflamingo felt his blood ignite with a passionate lust he had never experienced. He needed the cure, and he needed it now. 

Each guest rose to their feet, murmuring amongst themselves as they hastily fled the space with caution. Against your better judgment to follow suit, you remained behind and rose the glass marked ‘Donquixote Doflamingo’ to your lips and finished the remaining liquid within. 

Whiskey burned its way down your throat, the honey-sweet notes lingering on your palate as you placed the glass down once more. You rose to your feet and grasped for the water jug in front of Doflamingo and poured your emptied glasses with the icy water. 

“You don't look so good, sweetheart,” you cooed in a mocking gloat, placing the water glass with your name in front of him, “Have a drink, you'll feel better.” Doffy remained unmoving, clenching his eyes tightly shut as his body fought against itself. 

He tried to convince himself he'll manage this. He'll get through it without asking for your aid. He'll be able to withstand the potency of the aphrodisiac without becoming a whimpering mess in front of you.  

But then you spoke. 

And you kept speaking. 

Your sweet voice cut into his resolve with expert precision. Haunting him, cursing him with the ridicule that you should've been experiencing. He attempted to control his urges by gulping back a dry mouthful of saliva and concentrating on slowing his breathing. 

“Oh, come now,” you scolded the tall, blonde, “Nothing to say for yourself, huh?” You leaned your hips back on the table and eyed him cautiously, “Not even going to order the staff to get the oral antidote for whatever you've-.”

“-There is no oral antidote,” he spat through gritted teeth. He tried to ignore the twitch of his cock at the mention of ‘come’ and ‘oral’ from your lips. The swelling blood pooling in his cock had the shiny tip brushing against his leather pants. He mewled at the small twitch of his oversensitive knob, attempting to disguise his whimper with a soft cough. 

The air grew thick and tense; silence swelling in an uncomfortable dance of fluttering heartbeats. After taking a moment to hone in on your thoughts, you slowly inhaled and exhaled alongside externally verbally processing. 

“You were going to have me drink a poison tonight that had no cure?” you uttered darkly, “And watch me convulse as I took my last breaths?” Down turning your snarl and drawing up your heckles, you placed your foot on Doflamingo's bare chest and kicked hard. You glared into his shrouded eyes. 

“You were going to publicly execute me in front of your guests?” you continued, “My friends, my colleagues, my potential clients? Doflamingo,” you continued, leaning down and pressing your chest into your knee, “You deserve your cruel fate. Suffer, asshole.”

A shaky, large hand slowly drew itself up and softly cupped your ankle. He cautiously lifted your foot off his chest and pressed his lips against the ball of your foot. As soon as that kiss ended, another was placed slightly higher up into your inner calf. 

He removed your shoe, casting it to the side of him as he groped at you with his large hands. Hastily drawing his hands down to collect your other foot, he rid the presence of your shoe from you before placing your toes down on his thigh. 

Shock wrote itself on your face as a flurry of several more kisses were pressed into you. Each kiss was accompanied by a strangled whimper falling from Doflamingo's lips: breath hitched, brows furrowed and throat humming out the calls of desperation. 

“It h-has a cure, mi amor,” he softly whined into your leg, “Just not a manufactured one.” His lips could barely part with your skin, each soft kiss growing hungrier the further up your legs he drew. Humming through several more of his kisses, you were too terrified to truly correlate his affectionate advances to any known experience prior. 

Donquixote Doflamingo had always been intrigued by you. Always finding some way to bully, vex and torture you. This was something you never anticipated. His desperation in need for you was now depicted as his tongue raked up your thighs: his moist organ dampening your pants with a long and lustful streak of saliva. 

“Absolutely not,” you spat, forcing Doflamingo back into his seat by pressing your foot against his chest once again. “What the fuck, Doflamingo?” He mewled as your heel grazed his right nipple, his body crying out in relief and arousing itself further. 

From this angle, you hastily drew your eyes down to the large polearm hoisting up his pants in a perfect peaked tent. His large cock left very little to the imagination beneath the shroud of his leathery pants. 

He whispered your name, the last syllable calling out in a soft sob. His breaths were both deep and shallow, his body hot and cold, his mind clear and cloudy - he had no idea how to process these emotions. All he knew is he needed you. He wanted you. He craved you. 

Disgust was now openly displayed on your features at his desperation, watching the mighty King of Dressrosa sob and cry for you like a child that had a favorite toy hovering just out of reach. His hands began opening and closing, the strings of his devil-fruit power beginning to hover in his fingertips; only to fizzle away as soon as they formed. 

“What were you attempting to spike me with tonight?” you hissed at the blonde king, adding an emphatic kick to his chest to regain his attention. 

“An aphrodisiac,” he admitted, choking on his confession as he attempted to withhold it, “One so potent, the only cure for it is s-sex.” He moaned with his hissed admission, throwing his head back and whimpering. 

You sucked in a horrified gasp, recoiling as you understood exactly what he was admitting to you. You took a moment to collect your thoughts and mull over your next actions. Hardening your resolve, you shook it off and removed your foot from his chest, before straightening up your clothes. 

“Fuck you, Doflamingo,” you spat, beginning to walk away from him and collect your discarded shoes. He spun in his chair, almost knocking the seat over with the haste he followed you with. 

“Where are you going?” he whispered your name, falling onto his knees and needily following you with desperate longing. You growled, pairing your shoes and beginning to attempt to exit the dining room. 

“Getting you your concubines,” you spat over your shoulder, “Only cure for this is sex, and there is no way you're getting that from me,” Your hand hovered the doorknob, halting as a large hand drew down onto your knuckles and held your hand firmly away from it. 

“Don’t,” he huffed a gruff growl, his body leaning unconsciously towards you. 

“You want the cure? I'm getting it for you,” you whispered, rage bubbling within your chest, “It's likely better than the fate you had in store for me.”

Silence was once again uncomfortable between you, your confirmation solidified in the quiet of his response. 

“You would've had me beg for it, wouldn't you?” you uttered darkly, “Have me grovel and plead for release in front of the entire dinner party.” His hand tightened over yours, bordering on painful. 

“Yes,” he admitted in an icy tone. He sucked in his bottom lip, clenching his teeth over them and moaned while inhaling your scented perfume. 

“And who was going to be the likely cure for this tonight?” you shot over your shoulder, noticing his face was hovering closely against your shoulder, “You?”

“Yes,” he whined, hovering his body behind yours and caging it against the door. 

“You bastard,” you spat, turning around to face him and breaking your hand away from his, “You don't deserve a cure for this-.”

“-I know,” he sobbed, dropping to his knees in front of you, “I know, I know. I just-...” 

“Just what, Doffy?” you growled at him, “What now? After all this, what-?”

“-I just wanted you to want me how desperately I want you,” he confessed in a single breath, his words fleeing from him with unbridled gusto, “I wanted you to want me so badly, your body couldn't stand another moment without me. And now that I've taken the fucking drug instead of you,” he lunged towards you, clutching at your thighs, “I can barely keep up with how much I want you.”

“Doffy, what are you-?” you began, your breath hitching in a shriek as he ripped off your pants in a quick swipe. “Doflamingo!” you yelped as he buried his nose against your clothed cunt. 

“Let me taste you,” he whined, nuzzling against your panties with his nose and greedily lapping at the cotton with his lengthy tongue, “Please, let me have you cry for me. I n-need you.”

“Doffy,” you uttered sharply, nudging his shoulders away from you - which did nothing to halt his enthusiastic advance. He instead circled his arms around your thighs and hooked them over his shoulders. 

Shrieking, your back was now placed against the door: Doflamingo's head buried deep between your thighs as he clasped his hands around your ass to hold you in place. Greedily bobbing his head, he began lapping at your cunt with his slippery tongue, paying no mind at all to the fact what he wanted most was shrouded by the fabric of your panties.

With each cruel swipe, a single word was chanted in a penance-like prayer. The word was music to your ears, your resolve crumbling with each whimpered petition. The song of his desperate pleading beckoned you to let go and give into him. 

“Please.” He hooked his lengthy tongue beneath the fabric, clenching his teeth on the elastic and noseying it aside with his chin. “Please.” Flattening his tongue, he gasped as he tasted your sweet nectar and swirled his organ over your clit. “Please.” 

The ache in his pants was so strong, he could barely take another moment not being buried to the hilt within you. He continued to make an effort to withhold his cravings, to ensure you were ready to take him, as he was twice your size in every way. 

Being the giver was not his strength. Doflamingo would take, take, take until there was nothing left to take from his bedmates. He wanted to chase his release, no matter the consequences his large cock would indent while sheathed within a partner. He simply didn’t care about them, but he did care about you. He wanted you to want him so badly, desperate to earn your approval and love. He needed you to know how far he was willing to go to ensure this was as good for you as it was going to be for him. 

You barely had a moment to adjust to what was happening to you. Replaying the events of the evening perplexed you with even more confusion. 

Doflamingo invited you to dinner with the intention of poisoning you. A poison that was an incurable aphrodisiac that made you desperate for sex with any willing partner. The reason he wanted to poison you with this was because he liked you, and wanted to pursue you romantically. And instead of asking to formally court you, he decided spiking your drink in public was the answer. 

You had every right to push him away, to tell him “no,” and to halt his advances. But at each skillful swipe of his tongue, you felt more of yourself melting away beneath his humility. His apology dictated to you with each intentional swirl of his lengthy tongue.

“Doffy,” you mewled to him, feeling his tongue dip into your slick entrance. His nose circled your clit, his skillful organ greedily flicking in and out of your cunt while hooking up within you to climb deeper into your body. Your walls clenched around his tongue, his chin spiriting you towards bliss as he ground your pussy against his face. 

“Please,” he muffled into your core, desperately lapping up your arousal like a dog parched for water, “Please, please.” You felt your stomach tighten, his aggressive chase of your high with his lips wrapping around your sensitive bud ushering you to your unravel. 

“Doffy, wh-what are you-oh!” your breathy gasp had his hands pawing at your ass, grinding your core against his face harder to urge you closer to your high. Your hands pawed at the wall behind you to brace yourself against it. You found the pit of your stomach wind tighter and shoot sparks down your legs. He moaned into you, expressing his gratitude at your body beginning to give into him and release your inhibitions onto his face. 

“Please cum,” he begged, slurping messily and lapping up your juices, “Cum on my tongue. I n-need it.”

Your hands shot down to his hair, clutching at the strands in heaped fistfuls. As the coil inside you snapped, your lips formed a perfect ‘O’ as he channeled his desperation into meeting your needy thrusts and grinds against his head. “Let go, let go,” he begged you, his face becoming coated by your gushing slick. 

“D-Doffy! Oh, f-fuck. Oh fuck, I'm cumming. You fucking prick, Doffy!” You mewled his name, crying for him with your eyes clenched tightly shut. 

His hair began to burn within your fists, but he truly didn’t care. His tongue lapped up your gushing cunt over emphatically while grinding you skillfully against his nose, lips, tongue and chin. Riding your high, Doflamingo continued to hold you against his face as your soul fell back inside your body. 

“So good,” the older Donquixote brother complimented you, looking up at you through his glasses, “Now let me fuck you.” He withdrew your hips from his head, attempting to wrap your legs around his waist and shepherd you over the waistband of his pants. 

He pawed at the front button, his cock immediately springing forth and glistening in the light. Eyes spread wide with worry, you shook your head after feeling yourself recover from your high. Your underwear once again shrouded your glistening core, protecting you from a small twitch of interest from Doflamingo’s aching and incredibly large cock. 

“No, Doffy,” you firmly commanded, wriggling yourself away from his hold over you. As you side stepped, his hands extended in longing with outstretched, splayed fingers. He whimpered, his body leaning down and shaking with desire. 

“B-But I-...” he didn't get a chance to speak, as you growled over his pleas. 

“-You pinned me to the wall, and forced me cum on your face after you attempted to poison me,” you barked at him, “And now you expect me to help you by what? What, Doffy?” you snarled intp his face, baring your teeth at him, “You want me to sit on your cock and ride you until you cum? Tsk, pathetic.”

A sound you were not expecting to exhale through Doflamingo's lips at this moment. He sobbed, his lips quivering as his hands shuddered. His lengthy digits hovered over his cock, desperately wanting to chase his high into his fist: only withholding it because he knew it would make his situation all the more severe. He knew he couldn’t cum without external, other bodily stimuli. He needed you to help him, and he bit back a soft sob as his eyes grew glossy behind his pink glasses. 

“I need you,” he whimpered, “I need you so badly. I needed you when you were first introduced to me, and I have needed you ever since.”

“I simply do not care, Doflamingo,” you spat in return, his soft sob doing nothing to break you away from your resolve, “The only thing I’ll do for you is get you a concubine to sleeve your cock in, but otherwise I am done.”

“I don’t want them, I want you,” he whimpered, shaky hands balling into his covered thighs. His cock twitched in the air, the veiny underside throbbing with pulsating longing. You fold your arms over your chest, looking down on the taller man with absolute disgust. He held your gaze with his shrouded eyes, disguising his longing behind their tinted hue. 

“You repulse me,” you snarled, walking over to his kneeling position on the floor.

“I adore you,” he mewled through his confession, gasping as you grasped his girthy shaft. 

“You don’t deserve this,” you began pumping his shaft, flicking your thumb over his glistening knob. 

“You deserve the world,” he confessed, a small release of tears began expelling from his eyes. You halted your fisting of his cock, focussing your unrelenting grasp over his tip and squeezing it. 

“I despise you,” you spat, using your unoccupied hand to pry his glasses away from his face; throwing them on the table beside you. As soon as your attention returned to his now unconcealed eyes, your breath was stolen from your lungs. 

“I desire you,” he whispered, blinking slowly with his lengthy blonde eyelashes. You understood now why he concealed them behind his sinister glasses. His irises were a pastel pink, eyes expressive now they were unshrouded by the coloured glass. There was no lie presented within his eyes, honesty being the only inhabitant lying within. He was a very pretty man, especially with his whole face now presented to the light. 

“You make me sick,” you lied through gritted teeth as you rolled your neck, stepping out of your panties and straddling his lap, “You are foul,” you anchored your knees against his hips, placing your heels firmly on the floor beside him, “Obnoxious and detestable.”

“Mami, stop teasing me with your horrible words,” he moaned, “I’ll cum.”

“You’ll cum when I allow you to cum,” you retorted firmly. The bob of his adams apple did not escape your notice, nor did the soft roll of his glassy pastel eyes. You clicked your tongue, lining up your slit with the tip of his cock. 

“Don’t you fucking move, Doflamingo,” you barked your orders at him, “You’re a great deal larger than I am, and I am no mere whore you paid to fuck yourself stupid in.” He sucked in a soft whimper as he felt your prior release coat his knob, “I don’t particularly enjoy taking partners twice my size, and I don’t want to get hurt because you decided you wanted to buck up suddenly.”

“I-I won’t, mi amor,” he stuttered, crying out a little with his lips parted, “I’ll be a good boy, I swear. So good for you.” 

“Pathetic prick,” you mewled at him, eyes wincing as your body adjusted to taking his tip inside you, “It hurts,” you cried out a little as your body began to sink onto him. Your slow descent atop his cock, impaling yourself on his thick shaft, had your breath hitch and a soft whimper leave you, “And you were going to rail me with it, weren’t you?”

He stooped low, covering his eyes by burying his head against your clavicle. He huffed out his restraint, his voice shuddering as he felt your walls stretch to accommodate him. Wrapping his arms around your back, his fingertips ghosted around your body to trace gentle encouraging circles against your skin. 

“Answer me, asshole,” you sobbed, slowly sinking down as you felt the blunt, mushroomed tip begin to kiss your cervix, “You owe me that much.” Anchoring your hands against his shoulders, you braced yourself as you continued to inch your way down his lance of a cock. The girth was almost the width of your forearm, your glistening walls struggling to stretch to accommodate him. 

His shoulders shook, his lips finding your collar bone and pressing gentle kisses against it. He winced as he disciplined his body to wait for you to adjust to him, sniffing back a small cry.

“Th-The pollen makes you-... nnnmpph-... Makes your arousal heighten,” he winced at his resolve, bracing you within his arms and snaking his large hand up your back, “You would’ve b-been too far gone to care.” 

“Is that what you are, Doflamingo?” you snarled at him, sinking yourself past your limit to suck more of his full length inside your body, “Too far gone to care?”

“I want you, mi amor,” he murmured into your shoulder, nose rubbing against your neck and brushing your blouse away from covering your chest, “Although, I a-am reaching my l-limit for tolerance. I need to fuck you. I need t-to cum inside you.”

“Don’t you fucking dare move,” you whimpered at him, “You’re too f-fucking b-big.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he exclaimed, tearing his face away from you to look into your eyes, “I am so sorry.” His expressive eyes pleaded for you to understand how hard he was trying to hold himself back. His pink irises were eclipsed by his blown pupils, his lips open and panting, his temple bleeding with drops of heavy sweat. He couldn’t help a soft rock of his hips, testing how your body adjusted to him. 

“Stop!” you barked at him, “Stop that right now or I’ll leave.” Doffy whined, prying open your shirt with one quick rip, tearing the buttons from the seams and revealing your bare chest to him. The buttons flew over the room, your nipples perking up now revealed to the cool of the air. Your sleeves fell down your shoulders and each inch of revealed skin was immediately replaced by Doflamingo’s lips. 

“I’m r-reaching the e-end of my resolve, mi amor,” he confessed, “I-I’m c-close, and I need you to bounce a little on me. Please ride me as you are now, you d-don’t need to take any more of my length. Please just bounce on what you can take. I’ll be so good.”

“Close just from me taking your partial length? You’re so fucking pathetic,” you degraded him, your voice solid and unwavering. You felt the twitch of his cock, his body revealing more to you than he would ever audibly inform you, “Oh, you like that, don’t you?” Doffy whimpered.

“S-Stop degrading me,” he attempted to growl, his voice breaking and turning more into a breathy pant, “Stop it or I’ll cum, mi amor. I’ll cum so fucking hard for you.” His whispered confession had you elevate a sinister smirk up your lips.

“Stop calling me ‘mi amor’,” you wrapped your right hand around his throat, your left perched on his shoulder as you sunk yourself down on him, “I’m not your love. You're a conniving and devious bastard, and I despise you.”

“Just like that, Mami,” he whimpered, hands falling to your hips as you began to bounce on his cock, “I know you hate me. I adore that about you. I wanted you for so long, and you’re so, so good.”

“At least your ears work, you arrogant prick,” you released your firm hold on his throat, glaring into his eyes as you continued to take more of him into you. You became more confident in riding his swollen cock, bouncing, writhing and grinding your slick cunt against his pelvis, “Maybe there is hope for you after all-.”

“-No, no,” he begged, pressing his throat against your palm, “No: I’m nauseating, I’m disgusting, I’m pathetic. Please, please choke me. Tell me how much you hate me. Ride my cock while you tell me you find me repulsive.” 

“Oh fuck, Doffy,” you bit back your moan, feeling the rapid approach of your second orgasm stampeed within your abdomen. You choked him harder, forcing his eyes to meet yours as you circled your hips on his cock. His eyes held firm to yours, feeling the tangible dislike against him from you. He fought back the urge to roll his eyes back in bliss, his balls sucked deep within his stomach the longer you rode him. 

“I abhor you,” you whined, feeling him hold back meeting your bobbed movements. You finally began encouraging him to thrust up into you, your motions now rhythmic and in perfect synchrony. 

“I adore you,” he whispered in return, placing his lips against your jaw and tenderly kissing you. 

“I f-fucking loathe you,” you felt the familiar sparks indicating the eruption of an impending orgasm. Your pussy began contracting around him, your walls beckoning him with rhythmic throbbing. 

Whimpering, your world came crashing like waves breaking down cinder blocks. You threw your head back, keening more so at the fact Doflamingo made you cum for a second time tonight. The first one was against your will, this one you ensured you were in control of. 

“I fucking l-love you,” he held his eyes against yours, his orbs glassy as they filled with tears, “I love you so fucking much,” he mewled in bliss as spurts of his hot cum splashed deep within you, “I-I-... I’m cumming, oh fuck. Oh fuck. I’m c-cumming. You’re s-so good. I love you s-so fucking much. I love you.” 

He cried, hot tears of relief spilling down his cheeks as he sobbed through his accentuated release. His lip quivered, his highly emotive eyes looking almost innocent the longer he rocked his hips up into yours. You squeezed his throat, choking him as your pussy milked him of his large load. 

The spill of his seed dripped down your legs and onto his patterned leather pants. The blunt tip of his velvety cock continued to kiss your cervix, propelling you into a longer release. Your walls could barely contract around his cock due to the stretch, but each time Doffy’s cock released a squirt of his cum, it twitched back enough for your cunt to wring his shaft. 

The twin highs seemed to last an eternity. Spurts of his load continued mixing with your slick and Doflamingo’s prior saliva. You were not sure when exactly it happened, but you found yourself within an almost loving embrace within Doflamingo’s arms. His cock was sleeved completely within you to the hilt, your arms circling his shoulders as you both hid your faces in each other’s necks. His hands gripped your waist, his blonde eyelashes ticking your shoulder as he buried himself deeper within you. 

Sunk to the hilt, you remained that way until your thighs began to burn from holding your body up over his thighs. Your pussy began to ache, coming down from your high with his full length still buried within you. Unhooking your arms from his shoulders, you attempted to remove yourself from his embrace to no avail. He held you firmly, not enough to bruise, but not allowing any room for you to wriggle away from him. 

“Doflamingo, release me,” you barked at him, shoving his shoulders away in an attempt to reveal his eyes to you. 

He held you tighter. 

“Doflamingo, let me go,” you spat, trying again to flee from his steely grip. He gripped his elbows behind your back, holding you firmer. 

Your panic grew more frantic, your heart beating faster than it did when you rode through your bliss. 

“Doflamingo, you will break away from me this instant,” you pushed and shoved him with all your might, only managing to have your abdomen ache at being so full for so long. 

He refused. 

“Doflamingo, if you don’t free me from your grip right now; I’ll-,” Doflamingo murmured against your chest, halting your wriggling and frantic movements. 

“-But if I let you go, you’ll flee,” his voice whimpered, his chin anchoring against your chest and staring his blush-coloured orbs up at you. You felt yourself become breathless beneath the spell of his loving look, feeling all emotion pouring from his eyes onto you. 

“Yeah, that’s the point,” you attempted to break from his embrace, only causing Doflamingo to grip you tighter. 

“I don’t want this to be a one-time thing,” he massaged down your back, pressing on your hips firmly enough to lock you against him, “I meant every word I said. I love-.”

“-And I meant every word I said, Donquixote,” you winced against him, attempting to pry his hands off you by gripping his wrists. He was far stronger than you were, causing panic to rise within your chest, “I hate you.”

“Marry me.” 

Those words shocked you, causing you to snap your eyes up to meet his. Again, those ruby orbs held you captive. You couldn’t believe how expressive they were. 

His soul was raw behind those twin lanterns, illuminating his face with the innocence you were certain had long-since left him. Still, you remained firm - the softening of Doflamingo’s cock within you brought you crashing back to reality. 

“Never.” 

“Consider it,” he sighed, releasing your left thigh and cupping your cheek with his left hand, “Consider it, and you will want for nothing. That’s all I ask,” he rose from his stoop and pressed his forehead against yours, “That’s all I want. All I’ve only ever wanted.” 

Using this opportunity: you hastily rose to your feet, the crude squelch of Doflamingo’s flaccid cock exiting your slit prompting you to cringe more than the embarrassment you felt at his profession of love. You felt the mix of fluids seep out of your core, dripping down your legs and onto the floor. He called your name, wincing now he felt empty and unfulfilled without you wrapped around him. 

“No,” you retorted, bending down to recover your panties and pants. You wrapped your top around your chest to shield your body away from his eyes. 

“You would be my queen,” he tried again, leaning forward on his knees and looking up at you, “Queen of Dressrosa. Queen of my heart. I would have you rule beside me as an equal, mi amor-.”

“-I said ‘no’, Donquixote.” Your buttons from your shirt lay scattered on the floor, your eyes darting around while arguing whether they're worth collecting. 

“Please,” he whispered his soft beg, his palms finding the floor as he began to crawl towards you, “Please, I need you. I want you. I crave you. I would bleed for you, die for you, kill for you - just say you'll be mine.”

“Look,” you turned on your heel, glaring at him with enough animosity to halt his low stalking prowl, “The next time you attempt to drug me over dinner and accidentally drug yourself in my place,” you snarled, prompting Doffy’s eyes to fall half-lidded in adoration, “Do not call on me for aid, you won't find any empathy from me.”

You hurriedly thrust your panties and pants back over your sticky legs, tucking your shirt into them as Doflamingo sat back on his knees, kneeling in stunned silence. Without a further word, you made your way towards the large exit, only stopping your withdrawal when Doflamingo tried one final time to woo you. 

“You didn't even let me kiss you,” he whispered in a voice so soft, you halted in place to hear him. You turned your chin, glancing at him over your shoulder as he sat in somber silence. 

“If you think you're getting a kiss from me after all that-...” you began, fully turning to face him as his head lay hanging low to avoid your eyes. You sighed, finally in pity for a man who resorted to great lengths to gain your attention, “...you get one to show me your gratuity.”

Doflamingo perked up, his ruby eyes meeting with yours with the hope of a child being promised their greatest coveted prize. 

In a few hasty strides, you made your way back over to Doflamingo. He continued to kneel beneath you, cock still hanging limply over the waistband of his pants. You grimaced at the flaccid cock, noticing that its limp length was still well above the average size of the cocks you'd seen prior. 

You shook your head, taking Doflamingo's cheek in your palm and elevating his face to meet yours. Lips closing in a soft purse, you collected his plump lips beneath yours in a soft and tender kiss. Parting your lips, you gently grazed his mouth with a soft swirl of your tongue. He moaned against your lips, large hands perching on your hips and holding you firmly against him. 

Tilting your head, you bumped Doflamingo's chin with your own to deepen it. He sighed into your mouth, allowing you to initiate how much emotion you were willing to press into him. His lips felt warm, encumbering and loving, something you were not expecting to experience from any encounter with the King of Dressrosa. 

Even though he had confessed his love for you, the softness he was presenting you with was foreign in comparison to his harsh dictatorship. You swirled your hands behind his head, massaging his scalp in soothing circles. A happy chirp fled from his lips to yours, his smile evident as his tongue collided with yours. 

Breaking away from his embrace, your hands raked through his blonde hair affectionately. He hummed up at you, his blonde eyelashes fluttering beneath his half-hooded eyes. 

“I'll cherish the gift of your lips always, mi amor,” he sighed up, the sparkle in his ruby gaze. That title snapped you away from your daze, shaking your head and once again grimacing. 

“Never call me ‘mi amor’ again, asshole,” you spat hastily, refusing to allow him a semblance of your heart, “I'm not your love, I'll never be your love. You're fucking pathetic, and I hate you.”

“Stop being mean to me,” he licked his lips, his gaze growing dark, “I’m already starting to get hard.”

[luxshua]

The winners of the life series all had their own ways of winning:

1. Grian loyalty, playing into every one of Scar's schemes no matter how stupid they seemed. His win came from blood and tears, a descion made surronded by sand and cacti.

2. Scott defiance, he was never going to play the game the way it was designed. Why would he take life needlessly, no his win came from the refusal to do the watchers bidding.

3. Pearl alone, discarded by her soulmate, discarded by the one who pulled her into the nether in the first place. She won with her ties cut, she won not of her own descion but of the one who decided for her.

4. Martyn scavenger, taking time where most convient, stealing kills from right under peoples noses. His win came when even his trusted ally had his guard down, feral and desperate for just a drop more time, even if it left him frenzied and alone.

[teamatsumu]

CRUSH (ushijima wakatoshi x reader)

summary: wakatoshi has a crush.

word count: 720

warnings: fem!reader, its all just fluff

tags: @keiva1000

Ushijima knows he has fans. He might be simple-minded and a little oblivious, but he’s not stupid.

He knows girls stare at him from the balcony during practice. And he can hear their giggling when he passes them in the halls. Tendou often calls him Shiratorizawa’s Golden Boy, which Ushijima wholeheartedly disagrees with, but never voices out loud. Tendou often says strange things. He doesn’t mind.

Ushijima doesn’t understand his popularity. Sure, he is a good player. The best ace in the prefecture. But most of these girls have no understanding of volleyball. So why are they spending hours upon hours in the stands, watching him play?

“They’re not watching the match, Wakatoshi-kun. They are watching you.”

Hm. Strange. His play is very consistent. Watching him do the same thing over and over has to get boring, especially when they aren’t watching for the sake of the game.

But then he sees you for the first time.

You are in his third year English class. In his three years of high school, Ushijima is sure he has never seen you before. Because if he had, there was no way he would forget you.

He is curious. And a little enamored by you.

You are, by all means, a regular girl. You sit on the same chair every day, bring your own bento instead of eating from the cafeteria. It is always wrapped in a pretty multicolored patterned cloth, done up in a knot on top. You have a small stuffed cat chain on the zipper of your backpack. And you wear your hair differently every day. Some days it is tied up, some days it is let down. And some days it is half-up and half-down. You have one pink bunny hairclip that you wear maybe once every two or three days that Ushijima thinks is very cute. Your uniform is always immaculate.

There are so many tiny details about you that Ushijima has learned, and he finally understands why girls would stay hanging over the gym balcony to watch him for hours, because he could watch you for hours too.

You are very smart, he could tell. You always answer correctly when the teacher would call on you, and he has glimpsed at your notes. Simple, but neat and easy to understand, just the way he likes it. There are no crazy colors and highlighters, and your handwriting is neat and beautiful, just like the rest of you.

You are also quiet. You have a select group of friends that you talk to, and while you are nice to anyone who interacts with you, you don't go out of your way to stand out. Again, Ushijima loves that. It seems he loved everything about you. All the minor details that make you a little bit more unique to everyone else.

When you show up at his game, he nearly loses his focus.

It in’t an important game by any means, just a practice match with another local university team. So why are you here? Have your friends dragged you along? Or are you here by your own volition? Ushijima feels how sweaty his palms are when he clenches his fists, and it surprises him.

Is he….. nervous?

Why? Because you are watching? How ridiculous. Ushijima has never once doubted his own strength, or his ability to win. How could your presence alter that? The thought annoys him, and he is determined to prove that you being here would not be a hindrance to his play.

Turns out, he needn't have worried. It seems your presence had sharpened his senses more than ever. Shiratorizawa won in straight sets, and of the 50 points they scored, 39 had been from Ushijima’s hand.

“You were on fire today, Wakatoshi-kun.” Tendou comments as the final whistle rings. Ushijima unintentionally glances at you in the stands, cheering for the team. Cheering for him.

His heart is beating a mile a minute, and he doesn’t think it is because of the game he had just played. He hears Tendou let out a dreamy sigh.

“Ah, the miracles of having a crush.”

He feels his lips tick up in a tiny smile as he throws a towel over his shoulders. Tendou is wrong. Ushijima doesn’t think he has a crush.

He thinks he is in love.

[ellecdc]

hi again tehe! can i request poly!marauders or poly!wolfstar (whichever you choose) with a reader who's touch starved? like she just really wants a hug and a night at home cuddled up with her boyfriends but she's afraid to ask 🥺🥺🥺 maybe they tell her she doesn't have to ask for anything like that, cue the hurt/comfort?? thank u so much if you do decide to do this babe!!

hi darling!!! so I took this in a bit of a direction (I hope you don't mind): touch starved reader who also happens to be James' sister and it's a secret relationship!! this was so fun - thanks for your request

poly!wolfstar x potter!sister reader

You didn’t even have a right to feel this way right now; this had been your idea.

The three of you had been hesitant to announce your...unique relationship to your friends on account of you being James’ sister. But it was you who had decided to keep your addition to the relationship a secret. You liked seeing Sirius and Remus out in public knowing that they were stealing furtive glances your way every so often. You especially liked the shared looks, the hidden touches, all of the intimate moments you had right in front of everyone that no one ever saw.

But today...today, it hurt.

You felt so unbelievably dejected all day, feeling as if you were crawling out of your skin with want. You wanted to be held, caressed, comforted, squeezed. 

But you were left having to wrap your own arms around yourself and hope for the best.

You’d gotten to the Great Hall and sat in your usual place across the table from Remus and Sirius, each of whom shared a soft smile and wink at you in a secret hello while James lamented about the Chudley Cannon’s most recent win. You felt someone’s foot – Remus’, if what you were feeling was indeed a pair of converse shoes and not Sirius’ Doc Martens – gently nudge your ankle and tried to let that be enough for now.

But it wasn’t enough, because immediately after dinner the gang all gathered together in the Gryffindor common room to set up for the party, and then immediately after that, you and the girls left to change, and by the time you were finished with that, the party was in full swing. 

So, you were sitting on a loveseat pushed up against your brother who was gesturing dramatically as he recounted the Marauders latest prank on Slytherin whilst your boyfriends sat across from you, Sirius’ head in Remus’ lap as Remus ran his fingers through the other boys’ hair, both of their eyes on James as they corrected various pieces of his story. And whilst this view would usually warm your heart or cause butterflies in your stomach, right now it filled you with grief and longing.

It wasn’t fair to even ask because it had been your idea, but why did it have to be you? Why were you the one who had to sit here and pine? The one who had to find ways to comfort themselves while affection was given and taken freely between the other two as often as their hearts desired.

And then you felt guilty because you were happy that they had this with each other. But you wanted it for you.

“Prongs! Do you wanna go see who might be interested in a round of truth or dare?” Sirius asked, interrupting James mid-sentence. You figured that if James a) hadn't been as tipsy as he currently was or b) didn’t really want to play truth or dare, Sirius’ interruption would have vexed him.

“Great idea, Pads.” He opted to say, jumping up to go ask partygoers who may be interested in a game.

“Come on.” He said to you quietly then, gesturing with his head for you to follow him and Remus up to their dorm.

You felt simultaneously overjoyed at the opportunity for alone time with your boyfriends, and nervous that you were about to get a scolding for your sulking.

You walked through the door and Remus closed it behind you as Sirius turned to give you a look laced with concern. “What’s the matter dolly? You seem far away.”

Your eyes welled and your sinuses filled painfully as you let out a whimper. “I’m sorry.” You moaned miserably.

Sirius look like you had ripped him in half as Remus rushed to your side, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Awe, dovey.” He cooed. “What’s going on?”

“It’s silly.” You cried, tightening your hold around yourself as you looked to the floor in shame.

“It’s not silly if it has you this upset, baby girl. Please? What’s the matter?” Sirius begged, taking a step towards you.

“I...I just- ugh.” You tried, looking to the ceiling as if you could convince your tears to ebb through sheer determination.

“I just missed you guys today.” You said, sobbing halfway through your sentence.

“Oh, dovey.” Remus moaned commiseratively. He turned your body towards him and pulled you flush to his chest, and you were abashed at how quickly the tension left your body as you melted into his embrace. 

“Sweetheart.” Sirius called to you. His tone sounded like it wanted to be chiding, but it was too full of love to do much other than make you whimper in response. “You mean you’ve been feeling this sad all day because you wanted a hug?”

You were so unbelievably embarrassed, but you knew there was no point in lying so you nodded miserably into Remus’ chest.

Sirius scoffed. “Well, that just won’t do.” He stated as he came up behind you and hugged you awkwardly between him and Remus, causing you to chuckle wetly.

“It doesn’t have to be like this; you know that, right?” Remus murmured into your hair. “Pads and I are more than ready to tell James.”

“Been ready for far too long.” Sirius pouted behind you.

“I just...I don’t... I don’t know. I don’t want to tell him.” You argued.

“But I want to be able to hug my sweet girl whenever she needs a reminder of how loved she is.” Remus countered.

“And I want to snog you in front of the whole Great Hall so that they all know exactly who you come home to at night.” Sirius added.

You made a sound between a laugh and a groan as your burrowed impossibly further into Remus’ chest.

“James came first...” You admitted, voicing your greatest insecurity. “I don’t want him to have an influence on this. I don’t want to have to share this with him.”

Remus hummed in understanding, but you could feel Sirius shaking his head behind you.

“He’s already been sharing this with you, and you with him; he just hasn’t known he was.”

“He may be miffed at first, you’re right about that.” Remus conceded. “But that won’t change the way that Sirius and I treat you, and he won’t stay mad forever.”

“He’ll likely be the most miffed to find out we’ve been hiding this, quite frankly.” Sirius concluded.

You sniffled and rested your ear against Remus’ chest, listening to his heartbeat as he rubbed soothing circles into your back, and Sirius trailed his hands up and down your arms.

This is all you wanted, right here. You didn’t want your brother to know. Not yet. Because though you trusted Remus and Sirius, you knew that some things were bound to change once James found out.

“It hurts me too, not being able to reach out to take your hand at breakfast. To not be able to carry your books and walk you to all your classes.” Remus said.

Sirius hummed in agreement. “And I’ve wanted to punch every single bloke I’ve ever seen even look at you right in the mouth. And I can’t, because that would be weird, and it sucks.”

“We have to tell him eventually, dovey.” Remus pressed seriously. “I don’t want you feeling like this for a single moment longer.”

You groaned in protest, but you knew that it was futile. You were going to have to tell your brother, or he was going to find out. Either way, one day James Potter would know that his two best friends were dating his twin sister.

“Can we tell him tomorrow?” You yielded. Remus physically deflated and you heard Sirius sigh in relief.

“Oh, thank gods.” Sirius whispered.

“Thank you, dove. You’re so brave.” Remus said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

Had anyone else said that to you, you would have thought them to be patronizing. But you knew Remus truly meant what he said. 

“And just in case James does condemn me from the Potter Manor, I’ll just go stay with Moons.” Sirius said jovially.

You knew that would never happen, and you knew that Sirius knew that would never happen. Which meant he’d only said it so he could see you smile.

“I love you.” You said reverently as you lifted your head from Remus’ chest. “Both of you, so much.”

Remus smiled in adoration whilst Sirius looked proper chuffed with himself. “Still can’t believe a disowned blood traitor managed to land the two most perfect wix in all of Hogwarts.”

Remus snorted. “I still can’t believe this poor half-blood half-breed werewolf managed to pull two of the most wonderful wix in the school.” He countered.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. “I can’t believe I ended up with such saps.”

“Oi!” Sirius barked at you whilst Remus sucked in a dramatic gasp.

“You little minx.” He growled at you before he pushed you backward onto the bed and laid his long body across the top of you. You groaned dramatically, pretending as if you were suffocating under Remus’ weight even though you could tell he was supporting himself in such a way to keep the brunt of his weight off of you, even though this is exactly what you’d been looking for only moments before.

“Sorry Pads, now you gotta go play truth or dare with Prongs while I coddle our poor girlie.”

Sirius scoffed indignantly. “Fine! But if I pick truth and someone asks me who the best snogger in Hogwarts is, I’m saying Y/N!” And with that, he fled the room. 

“You know what?” You said calmly. “If he lets it slip when neither of us are there, that means we don’t have to deal with the fall out.”

Remus chuckled and nosed affectionately at your cheek. “Fine by me.”

Fine by me, indeed.

[robobarbie]

Hello hellooooooo! We recently had a banner contest in the discord server, and I wanted to show y'all the awesome entries that didn't win. They're all really cool in their own ways, so I wanted to give them each a lil moment.

(by @/jestie)

Love the focus on xyx!! He reminds me almost of what I'd think teenage him would look like. Very chill, sporty, and out with friends on a beautiful spring day. The linework in this feels really soft as well -- especially on those hat details. AND THERE'S CAT!! CAT!!!

All other submissions under the cut!

(by @/hunddenseje)

I like the details in the flowers a lot for this one. The way people draw roses and how they choose those inner patterns is always neat. And the little plants and mushrooms on his shoulders are fun!! They go well with that striped shirt pattern!!!

(by @/stintsy)

The way this artist circled the boys with that pink rosy pattern will stick in my brain for a while. It's v pretty, and it's like they opened a bush and found us in there for some reason. "Hello! Happy Spring!" Thanks boys please close it back up!!! It's my cry hour in the bush!!!!

(by @/emmascient)

This person's artstyle is so unique and full of life. The little spots of light coming through the trees just adds to whole thing, too. And I really like seeing fanart of owl with textured hair!!! Also check out xyx's fucking biceps holy fucking sh-

(by @/.mewo.)

Just a bunch of bros on their lunch break bayBEEEEEEEEEE!!! I like the detail of toast's coat tied around their waist and the fucking anti-societyboy shirt quest is wearing LMFAO. Also cat is ADORABLE in this. God. More cat art. Always need more cat art!!

(by @/c1nnadoll)

Every time nightowl is drawn in a croptop, two months is added to my life. I just know it's true. God bless that cute ass flower crown and the perfect little peace sign. Man looks so stable and happy. I hope he had a nice day after this picture!!!

(by @/fluffydeer21)

Toast and Quest look so content and cute with their flowers. And there's another neat rose with a lil interior pattern! Held, of course, by this artist's fave LI. Xyx looks pretty good with gold jewelry, I cannot lie. I have no idea why I made them green in game. LMFAO

(by @/noneivly)

I like how this feels like a painting. Like those brush strokes and even the palette choice just look like something you'd see hung on a wall? It's really cool. Also the little detail of the chibi picnic boys in the background makes me giggle. Small!!!!! So fucking small!!!

(by @/kiki_221)

The energy in this is excellent. You can almost hear them laughing together at Toast's expense (deserved I'm sure). I'd like to imagine they're all relaxing at a park after a big lunch. I hope they got to discuss all the good things that happened to them this week.

(by @/01noxxie10)

Another excellent chillin in the grass pic! Purple actually looks really good on Quest. I don't think I've ever drawn him in that color before? So this image made me think about that a LOT. Also look at fuckin chill ass xyx. Calm beautiful motherfucker. Fuck you!!! Fuck you!!!

--------------

There's two more images, but those are the discord banner winner and the one I chose for my twitter! If you want to see those excellent drawings, check out my twitter here or join the discord server here!

Thank you everyone for all the submissions! I treasure them deeply!!

[mcflymemes]

AS SAID BY DORIAN PAVUS  *  assorted dialogue from dragon age inquisition, updated version

i don't care what they think about me. i care what they think about us.

i like you. more than i should. more than might be wise.

discretion isn't your thing, is it?

all this dancing, politics, and murder makes me a bit homesick.

i suppose it really depends. how bad do you want to be?

living a lie... it festers inside of you, like poison.

i'm a man of many talents. what can i say?

the moment i saw you, i thought "there's a man who knows quality."

if you don't come through this, i swear i'll kill you.

i'm curious where this goes, you and i. we've had fun. perfectly reasonable to leave it here.

here is my proposal: we dispense with the chitchat and move on to something more primal.

i tease you too much, i know.

i'll have to find something we can do that doesn't involve teasing.

time to drink myself into a stupor. it's been that sort of day.

i see you enjoy playing with fire.

i like playing hard to get.

i'm not suggesting we venture into mutual domesticity.

if it's a trap, we escape and kill everyone. you're good at that.

talk to me. let me hear how mystified you are by my anger.

oh, i'm not arguing. just pointing out the ridiculously obvious.

if you choose to leave your door unlocked like a savage, i may or may not come.

now... what was i talking about? ah, yes. me.

i am apparently an incredible ass at accepting gifts.

i prefer the company of men.

would you prefer me bound and leashed?

sometimes the ones you love are also the ones who disappoint you the most.

you are the man i love, [name]. nothing will truly keep us apart.

the things you ask are just... very personal.

sometimes... love isn't enough.

there will always be an "us." we'll just be... farther apart, for a time.

i had no idea something like you was possible.

i'm imagining what you would look like in a dress.

i've never seen you smile so much!

i have no idea what you're talking about.

you stand there, flexing your muscles, huffing like some beast of burden with no thought save conquest.

you're shaping the world for good or ill. how could i aspire to do any less?

my footsies are freezing, thank you.

don't you ever bathe?

you're not suggesting we're similar.

watch where you're pointing that thing!

i'm not wearing a skirt.

it's significantly more impressive than hitting them with a sharp piece of metal.

i only meant to say i'm very sorry for your loss.

we can continue this dance forever, if you wish.

i'm saying we should be careful what we assume when it comes to such matters.

demons don't appreciate a man with good hair.

what i wouldn't give for some proper wine.

your outfit's entertaining. i'll give you that.

he had to leave early on account of assassination.

it's nice to know you have friends.

i'm here to do what is right.

come on, just answer the question.

they were asking me about you. personal things.

you said we'd be ass-deep in trouble. this is more like knee-high.

so what's your estimation? think we can win?

you can't call me pampered. nobody's peeled a grape for me in weeks.

you startled me. you're always so... nondescript.

you're a special and unique snowflake. live the dream.

i wanted to see you make flowers bloom with your song. just once.

you've done a lot less dancing naked in the moonlight than expected.

i've never seen anyone in this part of the world do it.

i realize there's more to you than that.

have i offended you?

for hating the outdoors, you sure seem to like bad weather.

i can't figure you out, [name].

you don't play their stupid game, they send an assassin or three your way.

i can't believe you're scared of magic.

i'm going to take that as a compliment.

still don't like me, [name]? after all this time?

[name], i owe you an apology.

i suspect people will use any excuse to hate us.

why be ashamed? power should be respected, not swept under the carpet.

maybe you're not a complete moron.

i just need to know you're capable of higher thought. for my own comfort.

it would take work. and soap. lots and lots of soap.

[bynineb]

What pieces of media are your biggest creature design inspirations?

ooh how fun! let's see...

Pokemon Crystal (Ken Sugimori)

(src: Bulbapedia)

I had a Pokemon Crystal strategy guide with all 251 Pokemon in it that I studied religiously when it came to making monsters of my own. I love Ken Sugimori's illustrations so much - the dappled paint makes it so soft, gives everything the feeling of being struck by light dancing down from foliage above. The subtle implied detailing with line strokes and shadow allows the imagination to run wild. They, truly, feel like creatures to have adventures with. And of course, Pokemon is a juggernaut of an RPG, facilitating those childhood fantasies, and then there's a TV show showing them playing and shouting their name and fighting... No wonder so many people got hooked on it!

Dragon Warrior Monsters 2 (Akira Toriyama)

(src: Dragon's Den)

Since they're designed as enemies foremost, Dragon Quest's monsters can get a lot kookier & scarier than Pokemon can. And Toriyama gives his monster designs so much charm and personality! You feel like he always has fun coming up with them, and it makes every Dragon Quest game more delightful for having them be your foes (and sometimes friends). Also, all the English names are puns and portmanteaus and other fun word things!

After Armageddon Gaiden (artist unknown - dev is PandoraBox)

(src: Bogleech, who also wrote a wonderful article on these critters: https://bogleech.com/halloween/hall18-aagolem)

Uniquely grotesque beasts from a deeply obscure Japanese RPG named After Armageddon Gaiden, the second in a duology about player-controlled demons fighting alien invaders. Some of the designs get quite gory or disturbing, fair warning. But in a cool way!! The sheer strangeness of these designs are something to behold!... And they have the best names ever, like "Barabumblebo"...

YU-GI-OH early card art (Kazuki Takahashi)

(src: Yugioh fandom page)

Yu-Gi-Oh's early monster designs are something I think about a lot. I don't know what that says about me, but I do know they're unbelievably cool, a blend of genuinely scary Egyptian-flavored horror and wacky, tropey, cartoony fantasy. The fact that these ridiculous designs are frequently art for a card that's completely worthless in terms of winning duels, combined with their randomly specific descriptions about how unbelievably powerful they are, gives them a certain mystique. It's as if the creature you see depicted truly exists as a part of some greater fantasy world...

Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time

(src: me, many moons ago)

Seeing properly scary monsters inside a strange virtual world in Ocarina of Time was quite the experience for my young self. For example, I had nightmares about the Stalchildren who used to burst, endlessly, from the ground of the strangely empty Hyrule Field. But that also made it feel like such an adventure! The thrill added to the experience. And even many of the game's races are quite monsterlike; Gorons, Zora, Deku, and so forth. This had me imagine turning a "bad" creature into a friend, a concept I cherish to this day... hence Love-Love here.

Well that's that! Thanks for asking, this was fun to write : )

[theold-ultraviolence]

Hello my loveeeeee

I come bearing Aemond thots

So we know Aemond is observant and a man of few words so in relation to his wife I think he would have sooo many feelings about just the littlest things he notices about her but he can't figure out how to say it I imagined he's tried to a couple times but it didn't come out right poor thing

So he started writing her letters almost daily even though they see eachother every day just so he can get his words out 🤍

Whispers Unsaid / Part II

Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

A/N: CEE. When I tell you I've never ran to write a prompt THIS QUICKLY, I think I'm breaking a personal record here. This is the sweetest, most precious and unique concept ever and omg I hope I did it justice. Thank you for indulging me and for letting me explore more of Aemond!! Title is based on the song 'Hail to the King' by A7X, which is also the album that has been inspiring me when it comes to him. CW: suggestive language, no explicit content. Words: 2k.

“What are you doing, husband?” 

You sigh from your spot on your shared bed, with an outstretched hand in search of his touch, only it lands beside you on the empty dent where the warmth of his form still lingers. 

It’s late, and Aemond’s back is towards you, with his long hair cascading behind him like the silvery moonbeams that reflect on the ocean just outside of King’s Landing. Straight and stoic as always, he sits, illuminated by the triad of candles sitting on his desk as he’s calmly scribbling away on paper. 

He stops as soon as he hears your quiet calling, and only turns halfway to grant you a little smirk.  “Just some writing. Go back to sleep.”  

“Just some writing, he says...”

He huffs out a quiet puff of air that’s just Aemond’s way of laughing, and you consider it a win. 

At the beginning, the silence had unnerved you; it puzzled you, to be the one to take up the mantle between the two of you and prompt the conversation out of him for seldom did he utter a single word. It’s like Aegon had claimed all the bark upon being the first one to leave their mother’s womb and left no words to spare for Aemond or Helaena. 

But in time, you learned that that’s just the kind of man that Aemond is, and it does not mean that he despises you, as you’d first believed as a newlywed, being one in need of affirmation to be at ease knowing their care is reciprocated.

Having been betrothed to Aemond had proved to be a blessing, despite it being a political arrangement. You’d grown too fond of him, too attached to his scent and the weight of his body against you. You’d often think about what would’ve become of you, hadn’t you been matched with someone as caring and devoted as he. 

Albeit eternally silent. 

So you made it your own little game, to try and pry a smile out of him with your quips, or a sigh of contentment with your caresses, anytime you could. This little laugh you treasure, as it’s a sound as rare as a King without a crown, or a Valyrian without a dragon

“May I enquire, your grace, if it’s something appropriate to share with your lady wife?” 

You speak through a teasing smile and a giddy heart over the sight of his shoulders visibly relaxing and a dimple surfacing along the lines of his sharp jaw. 

“Whispers unsaid, I believe,” he murmurs cryptically, and isn’t that the understatement of the era. 

Everything that Aemond utters to you is restrained, often biting his tongue when he sees you changing into your dress in the morning, or walking down a stairwell while lifting up your skirt, like a proper princess. You wonder what he thinks of you, what passes through the intricate maze that is his mind, whenever he’s helping you put on a piece of jewelry, or tying up the laces of your slippers or squeezing your hand in his in a crowded room.

His gaze is the loudest, while his lips refrain from speaking. 

And it is indeed far too late for either of you to be up, hence why your eyelids are dropping regardless of you aching to keep admiring Aemond, so you give up on coaxing the conversation out of him and ultimately mutter, “come back to bed, husband.” 

“I’ll be there in a moment.” 

You huff in a childlike manner, inching closer to his spot on the bed to absorb the remnants of his warmth, to inhale that characteristic scent that emanates from the crown of his head, imprinted on the pillow. 

“You know I can’t sleep without you,” you dare confess. Only in the hour of the owl did you let these kinds of truths spill. 

It’s true, you cannot. Not when your lives are marked by unrelenting stress, impending danger. He’s your anchor, at the end of the day. In his arms you seek the safety and softness that you need after so much endurance and you dread the moment he’ll be yanked away to war. 

He nods and finally joins you, immediately cradling your face to his neck before his arms envelop you. 

In a dreamy haze, you mumble, “one day you’ll have to tell me all about what you write…is it fiction? Is it prose? Are you writing about how you secretly despise your wife?” you yawn, making him humm amusedly before he’s lulling you to sleep by tracing his fingers all along your spine until you’re no longer conscious. 

– 

First you hear all the clattering noises about the room before you fully awaken, and the next thing you register is the lack of a firm body against your own under the covers.  

Groggily, you call for his name, over and over again and louder each time until a pair of hands frame your face and thin lips tenderly plant themselves on your forehead. 

“What’s going on?” you’re greeted first thing at dawn to a room bathed by shadows except for his sapphire eye, as bright as the sun.   

“Off to clean up after Aegon’s messes, as always.”   

“When will you be back?” one of your hands joins his atop your cheek as your brain tries to process what he’s saying, and you’re hit with the realization that he’ll be away from you for Gods know how long.  

“I’ve no way of knowing. But I promise I’ll come back to you as soon as I’m able.” 

“Promise me,” you plead, staring intently at his right eye and feeling the tiniest bit of relief when you see it twinkling with affection. 

He nods before his touch leaves your face until he’s got a hold of your hand with both of his, depositing something right into it that he seals with one final kiss.  

“If you need me, my lady, look under the dresser. There’s a chest there with something I think you might enjoy.”     

You realize there’s a key dangling from a silver chain left in your open palm.

Before you can even question him, he gives you one last longing stare,  and leaves out the door. 

His last message doesn’t fully sink in as you’re more preoccupied with burying your head in your husband’s pillow.

And it isn’t until the end of this day – an excruciating one without his presence – that you kneel down to retrieve a heavy treasure chest made out of fine silver, which unlocks by the turn of the key that had been resting around your neck. 

You bring it with you to the bed to study its contents, soon to realize that it contains piece after piece of paper, with dates inked on the corners, going back as far as the day you were officially married. 

Your heart takes on a galloping beat as you read, as you go through each of Aemond’s secret letters to you. 

“My lady, we are officially wed. I am eternally grateful to my mother and father for having agreed upon bethroding me to you. I’d had my eye on you for a long time. I’m almost certain they noticed for I’m not entirely discreet – aiding their final decision. I look to the fates that have been bestowed on the rest of my family and while I would have fulfilled my duty with honor, I am relieved and overjoyed that I get to be by your side until the end of our days. The only thing that frightens me is you becoming bored of my existence. I know I’m not the liveliest of princes, but I hope I can convey the affection that I hold for you in the best way that I can. You are the loveliest in the whole court – in the whole kingdom. I’m most fortunate to be yours.” 

“Dear wife, you drive me wild. I wish there was a way to bottle up the sound of your laughter and your moans. It’s exquisite. I wish to keep it, turn it into an elixir to help me soothe the stress of my days if you are ever not around. Please, never stop whispering in my ear, never stop cutting your giggles short for fear of appearing childish. I yearn to hear you, I aim to please you, to make a home right in between your legs so you’ll always be pleased, and in turn, I’ll get to hear you. You hold utmost power over me, and you don’t even know it.” 

“My darling, it’s the little things that make me adore you, so. The way your body elongates when you stretch out your limbs, first thing in the morning, and how the sun forms a halo around your hair as it peeks through our blinds. The way you lick your lips when I’m changing clothes after training, or when I step inside our rooms after a bath. It’s the intensity in your loving gaze, looking at me as if I still had both of my eyes – how you’ve never recoiled from the sapphire that replaces one of them. But I especially love the way your body curls around mine when we’re together in bed. I want to keep you that way, forever in my arms.”  

Your heart swells with each letter and some even manage to heat you up from inside out, igniting a coiling around the pit of your stomach that has you all flustered like the young maiden you no longer were. 

“Wife of mine, your beauty is truly sublime, at every hour of every day, no matter what garments you wear. Although I’m most keen on the kinds of dresses that are tight at the waist and make your breasts all plump and inviting. I both relish to show you off at court so that everyone can see that you’re mine, but loathe how the Watch Guards ogle at you. You’re mine, mine alone. Your every curve is mine to hold and fondle. Only I get to see what’s underneath. And that, my lady wife, is my preferred state to see you in. Naked before my eyes alone, sprawled on the bed with your legs opening up to welcome me in. It’s sublime, I repeat. How tightly you cling to me, how intensely do you pulse around my girth while your nails claw at my back. The day I lay on my deathbed, by Gods, I wish to see such a sight as I take my final breath.”  

You’re poorly fanning yourself with your palm while walking a frantic circle around your room as you’re turning Aemond’s words around in your head.

So this is what goes through your love’s mind. 

So this is what he’s been keeping from you.

There’s a whole universe contained in his mind that he can only let out through paper and ink. And now you’re even more desperate to have him here, to hold him and dote on him and compensate for all the words that fail to come out of his mouth when they're so eloquently handwritten.

On this night you don’t sleep. You’re up ‘till morrow comes and the air is crisp and you’ve gone through every single one of his letters – landmarks of your rather short time as a wedded couple, and pieces of the puzzle that used to be Aemond’s perception of you. 

You’re still deeply immersed in your frenzy, for five more sunsets and sunrises until finally, you hear the lock of your bedchambers turning, and in comes your husband, bruised and battle-worn and perplexed for a second as you’re immediately on him, wrapping yourself tightly to him and peppering kisses on the corner of his lip until he catches them with his mouth. 

“I love you, husband.” You exhale. 

After a moment he replies, with the first full grin you see on his face without saying anything whatsoever.   

Though that doesn’t trouble you anymore.  

You simply return his key and eagerly lead him to his desk where he finds a brand new stack of the finest paper, blank and awaiting to receive his next stream of thoughts.

[moreespressoformydepresso]

Imagine if, while in the zoo, the tributes of the 10th hunger games had spent their time bonding and at some point kinda joked about escaping together? And they all thought out exit strategies and such and even the word they’d use as signal to initiate the plans. They discuss who’s good at what, jokingly dividing tasks between them, with Wovey, Bobbin, and Mizzen getting the task of “stay behind us and don’t die” because they’re the youngest. No one really takes it seriously, they just use the fantasy to escape their horrid reality for a second because it’s nice to imagine all of them can make it out alive, even if they know that’s not the case.

Then the arena bombings happen

Otto and Ginnee probably still die, since they died from schrapnel, but Panlo and Sheaf were far enough away to still be conscious and moving around (that last part is mostly because of adrenaline). Everyone’s caught off-guard, but someone (probably Coral) sees their chance and screams the word they discussed, and all tributes jump into action. Jessup and Lucy Gray still save their respective mentors, but because the tributes are working together the peacekeepers have been taken out so there’s no one to drag them away. Instead, all 21 remaining tributes book it as fast as they can and manage to escape the area before reinforcements arrive. They are now on the run, and cannot show their faces without getting shot on sight, but they’re alive and that’s what matters. Mizzen, Sheaf, and Treech are the best thieves of the group (Mizzen’s small and fast (he was just closer to the snakes than everyone else shut up), Sheaf is described as "a limber little girl", and Treech sneakily stole Dill’s water bottles. That’s my evidence. Also they need more love) and thus go out to scrap together anything that may be helpful.

They, being the overachieving badasses they are, get their hands on futuristic medicine to cure Dill’s tuberculosis faster than the real world ever could and help Hy manage his asthma (because it’s chronic, there’s no way they can find a cure for that just lying around even in the future). I say they’re overachieving, because Sheaf did the back handspring for food, Treech only died because of Lucy’s cheating (still getting 6th(movie)/3d(book) place, and he definitely would’ve killed her and been a real contender for the win if she hadn’t cheated), and Mizzen is 13. A 13-year-old got 5th(book)/4th(movie) place. I rest my case.

They use the newfound supplies to heal their wounds and disinfect them, Jessup doesn’t get rabies because I make the rules here, and things are good. They spend a while utilizing their unique skills to stay hidden until one of two things happen:

1) the mentors, who have gotten quite attached to their assigned tributes, fight for the games to be disbanded and rally the rest of the academy, leading to a better Panem where the Capitol and the districts become a functioning, not-dystopian nation again and everything ends well.

Or

2) the tributes manage to escape the capitol and flee into the woods, letting Lucy Grey lead them to the Covey because ain’t no way they can just go back to their own districts just yet. The covey, being nomadic, is the best place for them to stay until they’ve grown up enough to be unrecognizable from their child selves to anyone who doesn’t actually know them.

Either way, things are better. I wanted to share this because I’m sad that all these wonderful (fictional) children died for the amusement of genuine monsters (and those indoctrinated to believe district people are not people)

Edit because a lot of new people are liking this post: someone wrote it :)

[kdinjenzen]

I saw a post the other day advocating for the stoppage of criticism aimed toward this year's The Game Awards with the reasoning being that "If you don't like it, don't watch it." And while I am an advocate for the idea off "sometimes a piece of media is just not for me" I disagree with that being the case as to why people felt so disappointed in the TGA for this year. Most of the criticism for TGA this year came from industry insiders... and for all the right reasons. Some off the highest rated games of all time were released this year, sales met and exceeded expectations, global reach of video games is at an all time high, and company mergers and partnerships showed brand and IP recognition and growth were set to expand further. Yet this year has seen over 10,000 people laid off, countless studio closures, and both tenured and new faces in the industry looking desperately for a way to pay their bills and keep a roof over their family's heads. TGA is idealized as a showcase of the hard work of so many people in the industry and this small bit of recognition for their efforts should have been a bright spot on a dark year. However, with TGA stating that nominees had only 30 seconds for an acceptance speech ... it's not exactly an ideal situation and seeing people thanking their co-workers and the fans as something to be rushed through is heartbreaking. Hayley Elise did a breakdown of how much time was allotted and for what on social media, here's what Hayley found: Of the 3 hour runtime for The Game Awards... Winner's Speeches totaled 10 minutes. Musical Numbers totaled 13.5 minutes. Award Presenters totaled 26.5 minutes. Other Presenters totaled 42.5 minutes. Trailers & Ads totaled 1 Hour and 28 minutes. This is the disproportion that people were concerned about. Especially in a year full of major financial wins and significant personal losses. Something even Geoff Keighley himself agreed with after the fact. Those who work in the industry were hoping for, at the very least, a proper send off for a difficult year. But we got was shoved aside instead. By saying things like "make your own show" as a way to circumvent criticism it ignores the crux of the issue as well. The issue is that Keighley had the connections, the funding, and the backing of having already been the face of prior game awards shows to be uniquely able to make The Game Awards a possibility. Your average worker in the gaming industry just does not have that capability. So it is far less likely to be possible to craft something like this, especially with the reach that TGA has. The last important push back against criticism for TGA 2023 was imagining if the music, movie, or TV industries criticized the same thing for the Grammys, the Oscars, or the Emmys in the same way the video game industry has done to TGA this year... But the truth is they do and have for quite some time! So the question is... who are these awards shows even for anymore?

[elsewhereuniversity]

Alternative Therapy with Marbles

There is one being from the Else who works for the University. Not because it’s replacing someone; the school has its Name.

It was young, once, and hungry, and fond of marbles, beautiful worthless things that they were, a human sort of glamour. It played marbles with students, by rules arcane and unexplained, and paid out just enough heart’s desires that they still sought it out with their marbles even though more often it would win an eye, or both, delicious things like soft, delicate marbles, and sometimes it won more than that and sucked the marrow from a student’s bones, leaving the rest for the Groundskeepers to clean up.

But it had been young. Cocky. It hadn’t understood how quickly a human can learn, new skills gained in just a few years, or how determined a human can be. Most vitally, it hadn’t learned what hustling was in time to avoid being hustled by the lover of one on whose marrow it had fed. “Wager nothing you can’t afford to lose,” the humans told each other, but it had bet a Name against a Name, overconfident, and it had lost. The one who won its Name gifted it to the University (traded it for nothing, as if it was worthless) and then went back to the world of Iron and never again touched a place where the borders were thin.

The school administration had never been put into such a position before. (It did not understand their dilemma until much later, the difficulty of deciding whether to let a killer go free or to keep it enslaved. It took it a long time to comprehend the value that humans place on the freedom of others, and on their own status as people-who-do-not-own-people.) The Dean decided that it would be given a job. It spent many years as a guard, a member of campus security, paid (although they need not have paid it; they had its Name) in pig’s eyes and cow’s eyes and sometimes delicious-lovely goat’s eyes as a “bonus” when it saved a student or two from being killed or stolen.

The girl who started talking to it was called Marbles, and it did not save her from anything from the Else, only scared off a drunk boy who had been trying to follow her home. Marbles stayed to talk to it, gave it her use- name, and offered it a marble “in thanks.”

“No debt is owed,” it said, the words vile in its mouth. It wanted that marble, an end-of-the-day, a unique blend of orange and purple. “I am permitted to make no trades.”

“Freely given, then,” Marbles said, and she began to visit with it during its “time off” (another strange human concept), and shared her marbles with it, playing games for no stakes at all, with rules they invented together as they went. The students began to call it Friend-of-Marbles, and it was a relief to have a name that was its own and was true, even if it wasn’t its True Name.

Then Marbles was Taken. Her human friends came to it, begged it to help, but it could make no trades to empower them, could not leave its post to seek her. They cursed at it - not curses with power, merely words, but they hurt it all the same, “false-friend” and “Marbles should have known not to trust a–” and the vilest invectives they could think of, but it was Marbles’ friend, and Marbles had trusted it, and as they turned to leave, it said, “Wait,” and breathed yearning onto the first marble that Marbles had given it, the orange-purple end-of-the-day, unique in all the world, and held it out.

“Freely given,” it said, wrestling to get the vile words out, because they would have traded with it, would have given up much for this, but it was not allowed. “Set it down and it will roll towards her, I swear it thrice; though I cannot prevent there from being danger along the way.”

They gave it suspicious looks, but they took the marble, set it down on the path and traded glances with each other when it rolled uphill, towards the woods. One of them nodded to Friend-of-Marbles, and they set off, Questing.

Days passed, seven and then seven times seven, before it saw Marbles again, although one of her human friends had returned its marble to it after only three. “She’s back,” they said. “She’s not okay yet, but she’s talking to someone in counseling. Your gift helped us find her.”

She was still not okay when she came to talk to it.

“I wanted to say goodbye,” she said. “I’m going back.”

“To the world of Iron?” it asked, but it knew that the answer would be no. Her eyes had been such a rich, lovely brown before, and now they were grey and empty, and she seemed less than before, her clothes hanging off her loosely.

“All I wanted when I was in the Spring lands was to get back here,” she said, looking at the ground. “But… it was so beautiful.” She talked about the flowers, the sight of them, the smell of them; about the music they had played in the Spring court, and how every sound it had heard since had grated on her ears in comparison; and she had been too canny to eat, but she drank from a clear spring, and she could not help but taste the artificiality of packaged food now, and the decay in everything else, the way that everything grew from the moldering remains of what had gone before and began to turn bad itself as soon as it had ripened. “I wish I could just forget,” she said, “But I can’t. So I’m going back.”

“You could give them to me,” Friend-of-Marbles suggested. “I was of the Spring lands, once; they would be no burden on me.” If it breathed, it would have held its breath in suspense. It wanted those memories, and it wanted its friend back, but it could offer nothing in recompense, was allowed to make no deals.

“I’ll try anything, at this point,” Marbles said. “I freely give you my memories of the Spring lands.”

Oh, they were delicious, a taste of home like a breath of fresh air. It was careful, more careful than it truly had to be, by the terms of the not-a-deal they had made; it took all of her memories of the Spring lands, but let her remember remembering them, though not what she had remembered. When it finished, it was full, sated in a way that eyes did not touch (delicious though the squish-pop of them was), and Marbles’ eyes were brown again.

“Thank you,” Marbles said unwisely, and flung her arms around it.

“There is no debt,” Friend-of-Marbles said, and held her close.

The next day, the Dean and a staff member it did not recognize approached it, looking cautious but hopeful.

“I’m Marbles’ therapist,” the one who was not the Dean said. “She told me what you did, and gave me permission to talk about it.”

“I took only what was freely given,” it said defensively. “And I could have taken more - she was not careful - but did not.”

“We’re not upset with you,” the Dean assured it. “We wanted to ask if you could do it again. And if maybe you’d like a different job.”

And that was how Friend-of-Marbles (who was just called Marbles now, many years after the original Marbles had done what mortals must eventually do) began to work at the student counseling center. It learned, over the years, that some students who had been Elsewhere only needed to talk to someone who would understand, who would listen and not judge (which the human counselors would have done, too, but some of the students who had wandered in the Else thought themselves monsters, and were more comfortable talking to something monstrous).

It took memories only rarely and sparingly, memories of Spring, for Autumn memories could be shed like leaves, but Spring memories would take root and grow, if allowed. The students always offered more, desperate to be free, but it learned to be discerning, taking one song, one taste, one impossible color.

(Sometimes, students offered it other memories, memories that haunted them in other ways, but it learned quickly that for them, knowing what had happened but not remembering soon became worse than remembering had been; and so it did not consume those memories but only held them temporarily, giving them back at the start of each weekly session and taking them once again at the end if the student asked it to. And eventually, they would stop asking.)

The school still gives it payment in eyes and marrow-bones, but Marbles dines well on memories too beautiful to bear, and sometimes appreciative students will give it a marble, tiny false gems, a human glamour.

[sadisticsongbird]

playing god's game ~ coriolanus snow

three

warnings: coryo throwing a temper tantrum and FINALLY some tension, swearing here and there

word count: 4.1k, shes a long one

a/n: THANK YOU AGAIN for all of the love and support that you guys have given this series so far. i am so blessed to be a part of this fandom and have readers that enjoy my work. (you guys aren't ready for the coming chapters)

a/n part two: if you would like to be added to the taglist for this series, please fill out this form. all of the information is anonymous if you are worried about that, but otherwise, HAPPY READING!

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All eyes felt like they were on you as you disconnected from the crowd of students and moved towards the front. Your hands grasped the strap on your bag, knuckles begging to turn white from the grip. As you passed by the 23 and stood in front of the Dean, you were sure you were dreaming. 

“Ms. Stillwater, please. Have a seat.”

You hesitated as you turned away from Highbottom and spotted the empty seat directly behind Sejanus next to Festus Creed. You made your way over, sure to avoid the glares being directed at you as you placed yourself amongst the group, feeling awfully out of place. The red uniform was an eyesore amongst the expensive suits and custom dresses. You set your bag down under your chair, careful not to cause commotion. 

“You are all hear, eager to learn what your final task will be and who's won that Plinth Prize, no doubt. And a golden future. However, as you know, there has been a change this year. One final assignment to prove your worth. Because…” 

The dean paused, almost as if he was about to regret his words. “...the esteemed citizens of the Capitol have grown bored of the Games and simply aren't watching anymore. And if the Games are to continue at all, there must be an audience. So, Head Gamemaker Dr. Gaul has stepped in to...incentivize patriotic values with her own unique flair, starting with you. The Plinth Prize will no longer be determined by who has the best grades.”

“Excuse me?” Arachne whispered in front of you. 

A gasp resounded in the auditorium. If this project had nothing to do with grades, what then would determine the Plinth Prize winner. And what did Dr. Gaul’s presence have to do with anything? The mumbling continued as the dean kept speaking. 

“But by who is the best mentor in the Hunger Games.”

The room seemed to deafen as all of the 24 students stiffened. You could’ve sworn you saw Festus choke beside you. Your eyes bore into the back of Sejanus’s head. He had to have known that this was it. It was no wonder he was in such a mood this morning. Over and over, every year, he dreads this day, knowing that he should be amongst his old peers in District 2, awaiting his name to be drawn as well. But the fact that he was here and that there was nothing that he could do to stop it had adrenaline running through his veins. You so desperately wanted him to turn around and face you, but the way that his face was turned down towards the ground told you that he couldn’t look anyone in the eye. 

“This is a brand new role. As the Reaping progresses live, I will allocate each district tribute a Capitol mentor behind the scenes, one who must just persuade them to perform for the cameras,” the dean continued. 

“Obviously, the best mentor will be the one whose tribute wins the Games,” Festus argued. 

Sitting ahead of you, Arachne Crane also spoke up. “What if I get a pathetic runt girl from one of the poor districts, like 8 or 12? They're just gonna die in two minutes like they did last year and the year before.”

You hadn’t even thought about that yet. Just the matter of having to mentor a tribute made your heart stop. This was all coming to you too soon. Just last night, you had thought that your future was over, but now, here you sat, waiting for your name to be called alongside a tribute like an auction. 

“Your role is to turn these children into spectacles, Ms. Crane. Not survivors,” Highbottom enunciated the last word. “Victory in the Games is only one of our considerations. Your entire future rests on this last project. Oh, and I must tell you that anyone caught cheating to give their tributes an unfair advantage,” he laughs, “will just have no future at all.”

A brass anthem played above the dean's words, announcing the start of the Reaping. The screens above the podium where Dr Gaul stood moments before turned on, bringing all the students a live feed from the district stages as the Reapings progressed. Highbottom sat down on the stairs in front of Coriolanus, drawing your eyes to his rigid form. He seemed immoveable, head held high as he waited for his assignment. 

“District 1. Boy goes to Livia Cardew.” 

A slight applause sounded as the girl across the room from you blushed and gasped to her friends sitting beside her. 

“Girl goes to Palmyra Monty. District 2 boy.” The dean paused, seemingly trying to hold in a small laugh. “How apt. Boy goes to Sejanus Plinth.”

Your best friend didn’t move. Which means, he knew. He whoever was plucked in the Reaping would be handed to him. Without a doubt, you believed that his father probably bought the tribute for Sejanus. Why else would he so openly fight with his father? Sejanus may not agree with his father’s choice all of the time, but he never went as far as to argue with him. The only time you had ever seen Sejanus yell at Strabo in front of you was when you were both eleven. 

Ma and Strabo had taken you both to shop for new clothes. Sejanus was inconsolable as he cried in the middle of the boutique about how he wished that he was home, dressing in dust filled clothing among his TRUE family instead of trying on clothes that felt like they would choke him. It was almost as if the suits and uniforms knew that he wasn’t truly Capitol. When his father came to reprimand him, Sejanus stood and yelled at his father, causing a scene and directing stares towards you and the Plinths. You were sent home shortly after that with a message from Ma that it would be a while before you were allowed to see your best friend again. 

“You got the pick of the litter,” you heard Coriolanus whisper to Sejanus, more casually than you would have expected. 

“You forget. I'm part of that litter.” Sejanus’s voice was filled with disgusted, seething as he spoke. You leaned forward to place a hand on his shoulder, only for it to be received with a shrug, shaking your hand from its place. Coriolanus looked over at the interaction, smirking when he saw that your friend wanted nothing to do with you. Embarrassed, you leaned back in your chair, continuing to listen to Highbottom read of the names of District 3. 

“4, boy, Y/N Stillwater. Girl, Festus Creed.”

“Congratulations,” Festus said, leaning over to you and holding out his hand for you to shake. You met his hand in the middle, hoping that he wouldn’t say anything about your sweaty palm. “Guess we’ll be working together.” 

You tried to give the sincerest smile to him that you could, nervous about working with him. He hadn’t been the kindest to you since he found out about your friendship with Sejanus, dismissive of the district boy. Taking your hand from his, you processed the information. You had a career tribute and a boy nonetheless. While it wasn’t unheard of for a girl to win, the male careers lasted longer because of the jobs that they were given in the districts. The dean did say that winning did not determine the winner of the prize, but it would most certainly have the most influence on the decision. 

Coriolanus tried to seem unaffected as the first half the tributes were read off and his name didn’t follow. Even though things were different, the dean still seemed to find a way to sabotage his chances. The numbers continued to count down. 8, 9, 10, 11. Yet his name still wasn’t read, making him shift in his chair, trying to maintain his composure. 

Your attention was directed back to the Reaping as they progressed into the smaller, less important districts, You kept hearing names getting called on, followed by mixed responses depending on the appearance of the tribute on the screens above. 

“Oh. You'll be happy about this, Ms. Crane. The ‘runt girl’, from District 12,” the dean said, standing to face the half of you. “She belongs to Coriolanus Snow.”

No noise was made in response as the mayor read off the female tribute's name on stage in 12. “Lucy Gray Baird.”

Amongst the crowd of teenagers stepped out a girl with dark hair, the color of chocolate and a dress that was as colorful as something you would see in the Capitol, pinks, purples, oranges, and yellows in the fabric. 

“What is that dress? Is she some sort of clown?” Arachne punched fun at Lucy Gray’s attire which you thought was a bold statement. It seemed to send a message that she didn’t fit in with the other girls of District 12. 

The camera tracked her path as she walked in between the split crowd of guys and girls. On her way a boy stopped her, grabbing her arm, but she recoiled from the gesture, keeping her head held high as she walked to the front. Just as she was to cross to the stairs, Lucy Gray Baird disrupted her path to reach for another girl’s dress and placed something in her neckline. The girl’s screams filled the auditorium over the speakers, making Coriolanus stand up to see what his tribute had done. 

“My daughter! Help her!” the mayor shouted from the stage, reaching his hand out towards the girl. Peacekeepers held him back, however, as two other guards assisted his daughter. The cameras panned to the scene, revealing a small snake wriggling out of the bottom of her dress as she collapsed on the floor. 

As Lucy Gray walked up the stairs, she made her way to the mayor to shake his hand as her male partner, Jessup Diggs, had done moments ago. Rather than being met with a handshake, the mayor’s hand met your face with a slap, leaving both the auditorium and the crowd in the districts with a resounding gasp. Peacekeepers dragged the mayor back further, pulling him to the chairs in the back of the stage. Another tried to reach a hand out to Lucy Gray who was on the floor. Instead of taking it, she held her hand out, whispering something inaudible to the cameras. Suddenly a small voice was heard over the screens, singing. 

“Can’t take my past, can’t take my hist’ry. You could take my pa, but his name’s a mystery.”

Lucy Gray’s voice took over the tune. “Nothin’ you can take from me was ever worth keepin’. Nothin’ you can take was ever worth keepin’.”

“Singing? Is she out of her mind?” Arachne commented for what seemed like the thousandth time that morning. Like she could ever understand what these kids have gone through. You pushed off her comment, however, and continued to listen to the saccharine voice over the speakers. 

“Can’t take my charm, can’t take my humor. You could take my wealth cuz it’s just a rumor.” She got up from her spot on the ground and made her way over to the microphone where the mayor had been standing. “Nothin’ you can take was ever worth keepin’.” 

The tune seemed to be familiar to you, one you feel you could’ve heard before, but you brushed it off. You told yourself that the melody must have been a common one because there was no way that you could’ve known a song from the districts. But you couldn’t help but hum along. This got you a stare from Festus beside you, making you stop, hoping that nobody else had heard it. 

Lucy took the mic off of the stand, beginning to put on more of a performance for the audience both in the districts and the ones she had to know were in the Capitol. “You can’t take my sass, you can’t take my talkin’.” She took a deep breath before screaming her lungs out into the microphone. “YOU CAN KISS MY ASS!”

If the murmurs weren’t loud enough in the auditorium, they sure were now. Dropping the mic, the District 12 girl took a bow. Everyone’s eyes were on Coriolanus, laughing under their breath about how unlucky the boy must be to have someone as crazy as her. But all you had in your heart was jealousy. The dean did say that it wasn’t about winning. It was about getting your tribute to perform. Coriolanus didn’t need to assist his tribute in that front. She was doing well enough on her own. 

“Well she’s mentally ill.” Coriolanus wanted to slap Arachne for her words. She perhaps was just jealous she was stuck with someone from District 10 and he had someone with courage. 

Coriolanus looked around, feeling the stares that he was receiving. But all he could do was smile. His ‘runt girl’ had more spunk than he thought. While she was practically skin and bones to look at, there was a fire behind her, one that he seemed to be missing, that could quite possibly give her more of a shot in the games than he thought. 

After the ceremony, Coriolanus had found a spot outside of the auditorium after everybody had been dismissed to class. He made sure that no one was near before reaching into his bag and pulling out a cloth of food he had snuck from the front tables this morning. Practically shoving the pieces of bread in his mouth, he longed to stop the growls of his empty stomach. He had given up food this morning for his grandmother and he knew that he wasn’t going to last until lunch. Before he could even begin on his second piece, someone cleared his throat from behind him. At the noise, he quickly bundled up his scraps and shoved them back into the pocket of his bag, making sure he was presentable enough before turning around. 

“Proud, I see. Like your father,” the dean told him. At that, Coriolanus gave a strange look to the man in front of him. His father was a famous general, but his father was emotionless, cold to everyone except his family. Even then, at the death of his mother and baby sister, Coriolanus never received the same love from his father anymore, left to a lonely life. “Yes. He and I were best friends. Once. Enlighten me, Mr. Snow. What are your plans after these Games?”

Coriolanus stood proudly. “I hope to go on to the University, sir. Naturally.”

“And if you fail to win the Plinth Prize, what then?” 

“We'd pay the tuition, of course,” the blonde said firmly, hoping he masked his concern well enough. If he didn’t win the Plinth Prize, he could consider his education, his name, his life, over. 

“Look at you. Your makeshift shirt and your too tight shoes. Trying desperately to fit in when I know the Snows don't have a pot to piss in.” Highbottom gave him a pitiful look, making him break his gaze from the short man only a few feet away. “Good luck with that poor little songbird.”

The dean’s voice carried as he walked down the hallway, away from Snow. As the shoes began to carry closer to you, you tucked yourself behind a pillar, much like the one where Coriolanus was standing in front of. You hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on their conversation, but you wanted to talk to Highbottom after the ceremony, but he had spent an awful lot of time talking to Dr. Gaul. You had been waiting outside until you heard the doors open. Though you thought it was Highbottom, you were unpleasantly surprised at Coriolanus walking out. The whole time the two were talking, you tried to stay as quiet as you could, but when you heard a shout and a clatter, you felt like screaming. 

“FUCK!” Coriolanus shouted, throwing his bag off at one of the statues near him, leaving all of his stuff to fall out of his bag and scatter over the floor. He could not believe the audacity that the dean had to screw his life over like this. Something must have happened between his father and Highbottom to make him this set on destroying his life. 

You peeked around the pillar to see him, getting down on the ground to pick up the mess that he created. Something in you told you to go over and help, but you stayed glued in your spot, worried what the boy would think of you spying on him. As he finished slipping everything back into his bag, however, he looked over, spotting your head peeking out and watching him. When your eyes met his, you shot back behind the pillar, clenching your jaw for being so nosy. 

“Hello?”

You didn’t say anything back. 

“Who are you? How long have you been here?”

Again, you stayed quiet, hoping that he would just walk away, too ashamed to actually face you. You blocked out the sight and noise of the hall, hoping that if you couldn’t see him, he wouldn’t be able to see you. But you were proven wrong as you felt a hand pull your arm when your eyes were still closed. Before you could open them, Coriolanus was yanking you into the corridor to face him. When he realized it was you, he cursed the gods. Why couldn’t it have been someone not friends with Sejanus? Why did it have to be you? 

“You,” he said, seething. 

“Ow,” you exclaimed, pulling your arm away from him. “The hell are you doing?”

“What the hell are YOU doing? How long have you been standing here?”

You didn’t contemplate your next words very much before spitting in his face just what was on your mind. “Enough to know that Highbottom is trying to screw you over with your tribute.” It created a brief smirk on your face, but that was before you realized what you had just revealed to him. 

“What do you mean?” he asks you, crossing his arms to seem unbothered by your truthful comment. 

Clenching your bag strap at his cockiness, you wanted to scream in his face that you knew about the fact that he wouldn’t be able to go onto University without the Prize. You wanted to yell at him for lying about how well off he was. But you couldn’t. Because he was just like you. Screwed without the prize, without your tribute winning the games. 

“N-nothing,” you chose to answer instead. 

He seemed to calm down after you didn’t give him an explanation. Maybe you didn’t hear as much as he thought. “What are you doing out in the hall, Y/N?” he asked, still angry. 

“I could ask you the same thing.” 

When both of you couldn’t share an explanation, Coriolanus finally spoke up. “Go to class, Stillwater. Just forget about this.”

He brushed past you, his shoulder colliding with yours as he continued down the hall. You looked back at him as he walked away, but he didn’t look at you. After you couldn’t see his face anymore, he let out a sigh of relief. You didn’t know. You didn’t know what apparently Highbottom knew. Lucy Gray HAD to win the games now in order to prove the dean wrong. He brushed his forehead with the back of his hand, wiping away the thin layer of sweat that had grown on from anxiousness. Tomorrow, the tributes would arrive and he could keep his mind occupied with the games. 

“He's sabotaging us. That girl's not gonna win these Games. You saw her. She's underfed, unstable,” Coriolanus said, pacing back and forth, rolling the rose from his lapel around in his hands. 

“The Dean said it's not just about winning.” Tigris was concerned when Coriolanus came home that afternoon, looking pale as a ghost. But when she had asked him what was wrong, he just stared at her, explaining he would tell her later. 

“Everything is about winning. If not the Games now, then the crowd. Lucy Gray won't survive a minute inside that arena. So that means we have to make every second before then count.” He paused, trying to think of a way to get Lucy Gray to connect in some way with the people of Panem when suddenly, it came to him, making him stop in his tracks. It was so painfully obvious. “I'll get her to sing again.”

“I wouldn't sing a note for you if I was her. I wouldn't do anything at all. Unless I could trust you.”

Coriolanus was disgusted at the notion. Trust? How could he trust someone who came from a place that had tormented Panem and had killed his father? “She's district, Tigris. She knows we hate her, and she wants us dead. How am I supposed to get her to trust me?

“Imagine it was your name that they pulled and you had been ripped from your home,” she argued, trying to keep her voice down as they talked. Grandma’am was sleeping in the other room and the very notion of what Tigris was talking about would give their grandmother a heart attack. “I'd just wanna know that somebody still cared about me out here. Don't discount her just because she's district, Coryo. You might have more in common with her than you think.”

Coriolanus scoffed lightly, not sure if Tigris’s advice would be worth it, let alone if it would actually work. But it wouldn’t hurt to try. He needed all the help he could get in order to ensure the Plinth Prize. Thinking about the prize made him think of his run in with you in the hall today. How much of the conversation with Highbottom had you truly heard? Maybe he was just being paranoid, but he couldn’t bear it if he knew someone out there knew the truth about his family. If the dean already knew, so be it, but one of his classmates? “Do you remember Y/N Stillwater?” he asked his cousin. 

She thought for a minute, trying to conjure up an image of you. “Maybe. Is she the one who’s friends with Sejanus Plinth?” He nodded. “What about her?”

Coriolanus debated saying anything, thinking it silly to even consider saying something to his cousin that would only make her worry. “Do you know much about her? She and I had a...run-in...today and I just wanna make sure she’s not going to be a...problem.”

“I don’t think she’ll be a ‘problem,’ Coryo. From what I know of her, she’s a sweet girl. She’s come down to the fabric shop with the Plinths a few times. Her father passed in the war and her family keeps to themselves.”

He had no idea that your father passed, only assuming that you kept close to the Plinths because of your friendship with Sejanus. And suddenly, he wasn’t too concerned about you anymore. “Just forget I asked. Goodnight, Tigris.” 

Coriolanus got up from his spot, moving to give Tigris a kiss on the cheek before moving to his room. He began to undo the buttons of his father’s shirt, being careful not to pop a button off or rip the thin fabric. The only artifacts he had left of his parents were his father’s shirt, his mother’s scarf, his father’s compass, and his mother’s compact, and he cherished every one. He wondered if you had any symbols of your father from before he died or if your mother would even allow you to keep those reminders in your house. His father didn’t know about the scarf or the compact after his mother’s death and Coriolanus was glad he didn’t because everything else of his mother was thrown into the flames. 

Why his head was now seemingly filled with you, he didn’t know. But what he did know was that he didn’t trust you. If he wanted to ensure that you wouldn’t get in his way, he’d have to befriend you. Better yet, it would allow him to get closer to Sejanus, closer to the Plinths. His head hurt, thinking of all the people he would have to gain trust with for the Prize, but he kept telling himself that it would be worth it. Eventually, he drifted off to sleep, mind wandering and dreaming only nightmares of the day to come.

[worldheadcanons]

Can you do Axis x reader x Allies? They are all fighting for reader's love.

☆ axis vs allies: fighting for your love!

starring. . . gender neutral reader and north italy, germany, japan, america, + china.

author notes; this was super fun, i imagined it to be a sort of otome game scenario with multiple routes. like the protagonist/reader goes on dates with everyone until they choose just one person to be with. i couldn’t fit all the main allies in here, sorry anon! lmk if you want a part two for them or any other characters.

feliciano vargas!

— he knows that his colleagues are also interested in you. he’s not particularly discouraged though because, really, who wouldn’t be? you were attractive, intelligent, thoughtful— the whole package. vargas knows he has his own unique charms, traits that the allies and even the another axis don’t have. feliciano is cute and he knows how to use that to his advantage. alfred is cute too, but in a different way. he doubts the boisterous american could sweep you off your feet like he could.

— in terms of competition he views francis and ludwig as his biggest enemies. feliciano is smart enough to not let anyone ruin his personal relationships, so he doesn’t hold any real ill will towards the two. in fact, it’s because he likes them so much, especially ludwig, that he even considers them to be rivals in the first place. francis is very obviously romantic. he was the one who taught vargas the ropes, after all. however his romance was rather.. mature.. meanwhile, the italian preferred to keep his romance light and playful. ludwig was cute in a stoic way. he couldn’t flirt to save his life, but that was part of his appeal. he would give you a small smile as he tried his best to be romantic and your heart couldn’t help but melt.. yea, those two would be trouble.

— he likes to keep dates vague at first, leaving you unsure of whether or not things are platonic or romantic. unlike francis or arthur he doesn’t come on strong. the first dates are still pretty high class though. dinners at expensive restaurants, trips to private beaches, live music shows— feliciano’s willing to spend every dime on you and he’s not afraid to show it. all the while he’s joking and laughing with you, looking you lovingly in the eyes with the cutest boyish smile you’ve ever seen. he’ll whine and complain sometimes, pouting anytime you tease him. he’s pretty childish but he knows when to pull back so that it’s not annoying. 

— when things get really romantic, you’ll know. he’ll take you to more public places. vargas has many family businesses that he’ll frequent with you. it’s his way of saying you’re closer than you were before. vargas will initiate a lot more pda too, holding your hand more often than not and reveling in the feeling of you leaning on his shoulder. he’s not opposed to cheek kisses either. occasionally he’ll ‘miss’ your cheek and nail a kiss close to your lips, hinting at what he could make happen in the future. what he hoped would happen in the future. 

— eventually things will escalate to a point where he’ll personally ask you if you want to be with him or not. not because feliciano views it as a waste of time if you don’t want to continue on, but because he truly wants to be with you. he can’t stand not knowing anymore and he especially can’t stand not having you all to himself. vargas will be respective of your answer no matter what.. but.. he has a feeling you’ll say yes. 

ludwig beilschmidt!

— he’s not particularly confident of himself in this area. romance was not ludwig’s strong suit. he knows that other countries are interested in you as well, which doesn’t help him feel any better. even feliciano was after you! despite it all, his older brother had encouraged him to try to win you over. so here he was. he would try his best. the german didn’t know it, but he had his own charms. he was stoic and sort of inexperienced but still a polite man. many ladies found this to be charming. in a way, his lack of romantic prowess was his power. 

— his biggest competitors, in his mind, are feliciano and alfred. both for reasons he considers obvious. they’re both rather ‘naturally cute’ men. they had this boyish charm while still being mature. alfred was really funny which only helped his case. feliciano was great at romancing others and while ludwig doesn't know much about alfred’s love life, he figured that it was likely the american was the same way. gah.. just thinking about it makes him frown. he’s been at disadvantages before though, so he’s able to convince himself that things will be fine no matter the outcome. his opinion on the two of them doesn’t change because of the situation. beilschmidt understands that no one can help the way they feel. it’s no one man’s fault that they’re all pursuing the same person. he just wishes he didn’t have to go against vargas, one of his closest friends.

— his first dates are.. regular. but not in a bad way. ludwig spends his days beforehand researching and reading up on things like date etiquette, best cafes to take someone out to, good meals to order, conversation tactics, and more. he doesn’t mind putting in the extra work to catch up with the people he’s up against. he’ll try his best to be romantic the whole time by holding doors and complimenting you whenever the opportunity presents itself. he asks a few questions about you, wanting to get to know you for who you really are. your other suitors may take you out to expensive places but they probably weren’t actively trying to learn about you— at least that’s what the german was betting on. 

— dates will slowly but surely become more tuned to your interests and personality. you like to paint? he’ll invite you out to a nice art bar where you two can create something together. you like to read? he’ll take you to a library-cafe. beilschmidt feels that these dates are the most personal. there’s more pda as he really gets comfortable. it’s mostly limited to hand holding. every so often at the end of dates he’ll ask for a kiss. if you oblige and give him one, you’ll get to see a small smile on his face as he admires you lovingly. he may even bite his lip, clearly whipped for you.

— of course, there’ll come a time where he decides to finally ask about your intentions. he asks a little bit later, not wanting to hold you down or force a decision onto you. with the guidance of his older brother, he’ll find the time to sit you down and ask if you want to date him… like, seriously date him. just him. no matter your answer, he’ll still want to be friends with you. he’s gotten to know you so well, he couldn’t just turn away from you. 

kiku honda!

— he’s whipped for you, though it took him a bit longer than everyone else to realize it. kiku mostly labeled what he was feeling as feelings of admiration. once he notices the the pain in chest as he sees francis trying to serenade you, he realizes that he’s in love. deeply in love. it’s a bit awkward when he comes to you later than the other axis and politely asks if he can take you out sometime. despite the awkwardness, you say yes, with a smile. smiles are good. he knows a thing or two about going out with people so he’s not completely stressed about that. anything he doesn’t know he just researches beforehand, similarly to ludwig.

— his biggest competitor for your love, in his opinion, is feliciano. he’s cute, he’s funny— if honda was in your position, he would have folded for the other immediately. he’s a little worried about everyone really because he’s ‘late to the game’, but overall vargas is his biggest threat. things will be okay though, kiku assures himself. he knows he’s cute in his own way. many of his colleagues have commented on the fact that his relaxed expression was a cute one. it was rare for them to see him relaxed as he mostly thought of work related things when he was in their company. for you, however, it wouldn’t be rare to see. honda would make sure of that. 

— the first dates, similarly to yao’s, are formal. they’re not uptight though, as he wants to seem cute to appeal to you as a boyfriend. there’s gift giving here and there, but he mostly focuses on doing things for you. just when you’re too lazy to cook for the night, kiku’s there to pick you up and take you to a luxurious restaurant. anytime you mention something that needs fixing, he’s on it. if he can’t fix it himself, he pays someone to do it in his stead. he insists that it’s normal and that you owe him nothing in return. he just wants to see you prosper, is all. pda is kept to a minimum, seeing as though it takes him a while to even work up the nerve to ask if he can kiss you. when he does finally kiss you, it’s immediately made clear that he’s experienced. nothing too passionate, of course. there’s a certain air of confidence and the kiss has just the right amount of chasteness to keep you wanting more. 

— as things go on the two of you only get closer. his dates shift from formal outings to extremely casual dates. sometimes it’s buying manga and books together, sometimes it’s watching your favorite movies at home. honda’s favorite ‘date’ consists of you two sitting quietly together in the same room doing completely different things. kiku finds this to be extremely romantic. you’re both doing different things but still enjoying each other’s presence. he’ll be doing paperwork and you’ll be sitting with a computer and neither of you are talking but both of you are happy. during times like this, he may even lean over and kiss you on the cheek, commenting on how much he enjoys your company. 

— he’s not afraid to ask you straight-out what you want for yourself and your future. honda doesn’t want to keep you from your version of happiness, even if that happiness is with another man. there’s no doubt that he wants what’s best for you. 

alfred f. jones!

— he’s a bit thrown off that other men are also trying to romance you. from the very beginning he decides that you’re the one who wants to go steady with. alfred is thrown off, but not enough to give up. he knows his worth. he’s a funny guy, people like that. he’s cute too, smart when he wants to be. jones would ask arthur for help but.. he’d be better off asking a math teacher for help in a history class. he didn’t think kirkland was any good with romantic endeavors. he’d just have to wing it and do his best. it’d be fine.. probably.

— the american doesn’t think of anyone as competition really, but he does hate the idea of you going out with francis. i mean, come on! he’s quite literally known for being a romantic! hopefully you’d find his flirting corny or off putting instead of endearing. alfred’s not completely inept when it comes to romance but he’s no hot shot. most of the time when a flirt of his fails, people laugh it off because he’s just so cute while trying to be a flirty guy. he’s a loser, but an attractive one. people also enjoy the fact that he’s a bit chubby. he knows this only because of past experiences. hmm.. he supposes that ivan could pose an issue too. he’s always an issue in some way or another. 

— his beginning dates are very fun! he’s more fond of going to carnivals, finding a drive in movie theater, stargazing, eating at diners, and dancing together than any modern date. lunch dates are fine and all but it’s just so boring to jones. it’s not that he needs a bunch of excitement but he wants these dates to be interesting. he hopes that after each date ends, he’s still on your mind. he doubts the others are taking you out to such cool places. he’s flirty on these dates, trying his hardest to impress you. he’ll hold your hand often on these dates, as physical contact is something he enjoys a lot. alfred doesn’t mind hugs or kisses this early either, especially if you’re dancing. if you’re not enjoying each other then why even go out? after each date he personally escorts you home. he also leaves you with a kiss to your hand, a sign that he still has some sense of politeness despite his eagerness. 

— as things continue you’ll start to notice that he’s taking you to more distinctive places. instead of finding a drive in movie theater in the middle of nowhere, the american will take you to a roller rink he comes to often. the people there will know him and they’ll know you when he brings you in. apparently he talks about you to whoever will listen. it’s flattering albeit embarrassing. a lot of the places you’ll go will be places he enjoys and wants to share with you. alfred’s much softer now and a bit goofier, backing away from the flirty persona he attempted to put on for the first few dates. you’ll often find yourself leaning onto his shoulder as you try to recollect yourself after breaking down from laughter. it’s in these moments that he’ll smile at you, soaking in your happy expression. it’s a gorgeous expression, one he’d like to see all the time. 

— one day jones realizes that he needs to be seriously dating you. he wanted to take you to an animal adoption center as a sort of surprise but he noticed that doing that was sort of a couple thing.. like a serious couple thing. alfred really thinks getting you a pet would be the best thing in the world. the two of you would make the best pet parents in his mind. it would make him a true hero. or close to one. so he swings by your place and directly asks you if you want to be his partner. he doesn’t stall once he realizes what he needs to do. jones believes that it’s best to just go for what you want. you only live once, after all. 

yao wang!

— it’s not his first time courting a lady. he’s experienced. he even believes that he could outdo francis somewhat. only somewhat though. yao’s been around for a long time so he knows what people like and don’t like. it’s not that he’s a super romantic but he’s passionate no matter what, which draws you in. he suspects you have a thing for older men, which he doesn’t mind playing into. he’s aged like fine wine and he’s not afraid to flaunt it. 

— there is no rivals or competition in wang’s mind. why think about the other guys when he can just focus his attention on you and him? if he had to choose, he’d say arthur, maybe. maybe. francis was too much of a try hard for your affections. kirkland was a mature man. he was polite. the british man seemed to know how to treat someone right. however, in the end, yao viewed himself as on top of it all. he refused to let himself get anxious over your other suitors. that’s how people lose. by worrying.

— he’s a calm and quiet pursuer, playing the long game. beginner dates are very formal. wang tries with all his might to impress you but he makes sure to do so in a way that seems effortless. like he could do this everyday. as if to say, ‘dating me will result in the best treatment for you everyday until death’. he could never say it outright, so he let his actions speak for him. he’s no sugar daddy and he never claims to be anything of the sort. he’s just giving you a taste of what your life could be like should you choose to spend it with him. yao also gives you lots of gifts, though he tries to keep them small so you’re not overwhelmed. he adores the face you make whenever you open up a present he’s gotten you. you’re always so happy to received them.. so graceful when you accept them.. he can’t help but want to spoil you. and that’s exactly what he’ll do, if you continue on.

— as you get closer, wang starts to feel younger. his few grey hairs seem to be jet black again. the dates become less formal and more casual for the both of you. often he’ll just invite you over to his house. he spends less time trying to impress you and more time just enjoying you and your company. you’ll start to hold hands, hug, and kiss a lot more now. he loves the feeling of your lips on his cheek. these dates are a lot more loose and fun, often ending with you two giggling as he holds you in his arms. yao likes to dance with you in his home, rocking back and forth with a smile on his face. he’s shown you what the two sides of your relationship would be like. the first side, what was seen by the public— expensive dinners, beautiful clothing for the both of you, and  lovely gifts— and now, the second side, what wasn’t seen by the public. kisses to the forehead, cooking for each other, reading together, and laughing over nothing in particular. 

— after a while wang will invite you over one day and pop the question. no, not marriage, though he does think you’d make a perfect partner.. he’ll ask if you want to start officially dating. he doesn’t know for sure if you’ll say yes, even though he’s used his tried-and-true method of dating on you. yao hopes for the best and prepares for the worst. he hopes for your love.. but he’s prepared to live life as just a friend of yours. boyfriend or otherwise, he’d like to be present in your life.

[cannellee]

TOKYO REVENGERS OMEGAVERSE ★

୨୧ alpha! kokonoi x omega!gacha game addict

— his reaction to his omega being a huge fan of gacha games.

my masterlist : ☆

I lost the initial ask which didn't let me edit my draft, I had to erase it to start it over. luckily I didn't write that much so it wasn't a big loss!

btw sorry for the extremely looong pause😭 I just was too lazy to pick up any of my work and with holidays + christmas I was even more unmotivated to do anything😭😭

kokonoi doesn't necessarily dislike you spending that much time (and money) on gacha games, but he also doesn't particularly like it.

of course when he learns you're a huge fan he comes along with you, trying his best to understand what's the appeal and what got you so addicted.

still, he's unsure and sceptical. he might probably ruin your entire mood by mentioning how much of a waste of time they are.

but that's just at first!

despite his initial disinterest, kokonoi starts to warm up to the whole concept upon seeing his omega so thrilled by the games. he observes your features and actions every time you successfully win an item, and thinks that your enthusiasm is adorable.

of course, kokonoi being an alpha, he becomes very cautious and alert towards both you and your environment, especially if it seems potentially unsafe.

he's watching you and making sure people keep their distance while you do your thing. he would always make sure you feel comfortable and secure during your game session. he sees just how much joy it brings you and kokonoi doesn't want anything disturbing the strange satisfaction you get out of playing those.

while protective, he still respects your independence and won't act overbearing nor overly restrictive.

his soothing presence is very beneficial, whenever you get frustrated at your game, he offers you great support and a calming presence. you're very thankful for that.

he'll try playing too, just because you asked! he might act a bit annoyed but trust me he's really amused by you and often even challenges you. he suggests bets, making the both of you compete between each other. kokonoi loves how excited you are to prove him wrong and that no, he won't pull the rare characters before you and that your experience in the field surpasses his so called "alpha luck".

he also loves to tease you and whenever you pull a male character, he'll act like it's the end of the world that you give him more attention than to your oh so perfect and loving alpha.

he'll call you his lucky charm each time he wins because he loves the blush it provokes on your cheeks. he jokingly pinches them and kisses your nose. his omega is the cutest!

more than anything, kokonoi is extremely thoughtful. he wants to surprise you and make his little omega smile. he often gifts you gifts related to your favourite gacha games, spending as much money as necessary to get you this rare in-game item you've been wanting.

kokonoi might also use his wealth to literally create a whole space dedicated to you and your interests. this way, having exclusive gaming places ensures him that you're at all time in a comfortable environment, while literally owning the place and erasing every limit you might have in a normal arcade.

you might even have a room of your own where you can rest and nest, right beside your favourite games! it would be all warm and cozy, specifically designed to your liking. kokonoi isn't keen on letting you sleep here rather than at his place, but he's reassured to know that at least you're somewhere made by him and safe enough.

now if kokonoi's part of bonten, he could make use of his incredible position to influence the gaming community and offer his sweet omega unique opportunities of her choice! you'll have access to exlusive previews and beta tests, private events and rare gifts!

he absolutely adores seeing you going crazy over gacha games that he doesn't even hesitate using his status to make you happy. his omega deserves the best! you can also expect him to collaborate with or finance game developers to create a content you'll 100% love because it's solely based on your very own interests and omega needs.

for example, he would personalize these machines, filling them with plushies you absolutely love, about your favourite characters (which were also previously scented by him), extremely rare figurines created especially for you, other cute decorations... you're basically living the dream and kokonoi isn't subtle about his adoration for you.

he'll spoil you to no end and he's shameless about it. you're his omega, his money is yours and he'll spend it without a care in the world for you. he's happy enough by just scenting you and smelling you let out your satisfied and soft pheromones!

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Trick Or Treat {Headcannon}

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Words: 1.6k

Warning: Fun & Games, Implied Smut

Note: Happy Halloween, guys!

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

~~~~~~~~~~~

Imagine it's Halloween and you and you are going to a Halloween party thrown with some friends that has been thrown by friends of friends. Sorta like a 6° of separation thing where you didn't know you ran in close circles to famous and semi famous people.

You've decided to go as Lewis Hamilton and have even committed so far as to wear a Mercedes race suit, the helmet you bought off eBay from a mega Lewis fan AND strategically position that very familiar bulge down to accurate girth 😏.

Your costume was supposed to be sort of a joke and your best friends were also going as other celebs either in F1 or sports.

You didn't think anything of it and even got tons of compliments for how accurate your costume was. You committed deep and had even gotten your hair braided like his but opted out of the faux facial hair. You thought that was too creepy.

"Girl, I feel like I should just sling you this ass cause you might just be as close to 44 as I will get," your friend Zoë said beginning a twerk.

Everyone busted out laughing while you did the ultimate fuckboi move. Rubbing your hands together like you saw a meal you bout to tear up you licked your lips in the most exaggerated way and nodded your head. Stevie J would be proud.

Once y'all get to the party it quickly becomes clear that you have existed in this 6° of separation world as plenty of semi famous people passed you by.

You and your friends make a vow to make tonight the best night and proceed to drink as much as you can on someone else's dim and see whose son you can go home with.

A few hours into the party you are pretty can't tipsy but not blackout drunk and have been entered into the best costume competition. When you get on the stage with the others, they go down the line asking what you are and to give your best impersonation of what you are dressed as.

It is a hilarious time as each one goes. You watch on as a girl dressed as Marylin Monroe steps forward kisses her hand and blows the kiss before full on lifting her dress in an effort to imitate the steam blowing up Marylin's dress moment. Applause fills the space.

You then watch a pretty dope looking Scorpion step forward and deliver the classic line, "Get over here" before unexpectedly throwing a ninja dagger across the room into the wall.

Your eyes bugged while everyone stood in silence probably trying to figure out just what had happened. When they did, they cheered loudly.

Next it was a girl dressed as Ariel or Ariel if she were in fact over 23 rather than a teenager. For a tail she had on sparkly fishnet stockings and underneath a purple sparkly thong. Her seashell bra was on point but also completely see through and every part of exposed flesh was decorated with pink or purple foil tinsel. You couldn't hate on it or her.

She stepped forward and let lose the Ariel vocal harmonics from when she gave the sea witch her voice. That you could hate on. Everyone coveted their ears and shook their head.

Then you watched someone dressed like Meg the Stallion from the WAP video and when she dropped down to the floor and tweaked on it you hyped her the hell up as did everyone in the club.

Finally, it was down to you and once you stepped forward there was laughter, but most was deafening cheers. With the helmet on it brought it all together and for a second everyone began whispering if you were really him.

When it came time to impersonate him you took the microphone and decided to play it safe. In prime and proper British accent, you spoke.

"You can knock me down, but I get up twice as strong. Yhu know what I mean. I don't aspire to be like other drivers. I aspire to be unique in my own way. I feel like people are expecting me to fail, yeh, therefore I except myself to win. Just like my tat on my back, still I rise."

No one spoke, moved or made a sound for several seconds. You began to think you had fucked it up but then everyone erupted with cheers.

It was a quick deliberation and after it, you were crowned winner. You couldn't believe you pulled it off especially with the shit you said which you clearly pulled out your ass. When you met your friends again you were 500.00 richer.

From then you partied like the end of the world was tomorrow. After a quick trip to the bathroom as you passed down the narrow corridor you felt someone push you against a wall.

"Trick or treat?"

"Uh, what?"

"Clever costume."

Biting your bottom lip, you looked up but thanks to the helmet you couldn't really make out who it was.

"Uh, thanks." You made a move to walk around them but found yourself rooted to the spot.

"I particularly like the um--package down there."

You snorted, your tipsy ass not reading the room one bit.

"Thanks. I mean we don't know if it is accurate or exaggerated by socks, but a girl can dream. Right?"

"So, you dream about it?"

"Be for real I am sure a lot of women have fantasized about peeling back that race suit and taking what's inside as their trophy on their own podium. If you know what I mean."

"Does that include you?"

You were not an idiot you knew who was in front of you was a man and as his scent permeated the air around you, you felt yourself growing bolder though you wondered which guy would get turned on hearing a woman talk like this about a celebrity crush.

"You know what? Sure. Given the chance I would absolutely have my way with him and vice versa."

The next thing you knew your helmet was pulled off bringing you face to face with the absolute last person you expected. Your brain stuttered as did your mouth leaving you speechless.

The man in front of you--Lewis Hamilton himself looked amused as hell.

"What if I said this is your chance?"

"Excuse me?"

He leaned in then, going to your ear. "I'm gonna head out in about an hour, if you decide to take your chance find the guy who looks like a giant teddy bear and tell him "treat."

You couldn't believe you ears, and you didn't trust your words.

He scoffed then spoke again. "I'll ask again. Trick or treat. You decide."

With that he walked off as quickly as he'd cornered you. Holy shit you thought trying to wrap your head around all that had just happened. You needed to sound off with your friends, but you didn't think this was something you should tell anyone. So, for the next hour you continued to enjoy the party.

Every inch of the club you went you felt eyes on you and no matter how hard you tried you couldn't find him again. What are the odds, you asked yourself. You were not opposed to one-night stands. Matter of fact you were absolutely pro one night stands especially with celebrity crushes. You only lived once, right.

By the time the hour was up you'd made your decision. Bidding your friends goodbye, you slid through the crowd looking for someone who looked like a giant teddy bear. The word was as the tip of your tongue. When you finally found him, you spoke them like a witch's incantation.

"Treat."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[maple-the-awesome]

While the Night is Young ||

Pairing: Legend x Reader

Words: 2,079

Requested by anonymous: Can I have a sad fic with Legend (LU) reminiscing about dancing with the reader on koholint? he's my fav so he has to suffer 😞 One mildly depressed Legend coming your way because everyone knows the first rule to being in a fandom is enjoying watching your favorite characters suffer go through character development 💜

Zelda Masterlist 💛 Fandom Masterlist

Crowds are never much fun. Who actually likes being sandwiched between sweaty bodies, constantly elbowed, stepped on, or tossed around by obvious idiots who only ever react with a half hearted apologies? It makes such a simple task like walking down the street a total nightmare, although there might be a good exception for it today given that it’s currently the summer solstice festival in this quaint little village the boys have recently stumbled across.

After many long days on the road, most could understand the heroes’ excitement upon seeing the then bare streets lined with wooden stalls and colorful banners overhead. A local explained the situation, promising plenty of fun games and unique carnival foods if the group decided to stay overnight when the festivities would begin. At that point, there was little choice in the matter. Seeing the expressed joy on many of the youngsters’ faces (a great contrast to their original wear earlier), Time just had to give in to their pleas, agreeing that a deserved break could do them some good. 

So, as the sky began to mirror the colors of summer, from bright reds to pinkish purples, the once empty stalls began to open and the streets became filled with residents, many more than what was expected for such a small village. 

Wind and Sky, determined to win their loved ones some adorable stuffed animals, have been taken to blowing all their rupees at different game booths. Four and Warrior, on the other hand, have made a full on competition of this activity, betting who can win the most games by the end of the night. They managed to drag Hyrule into the fun, too, but only because of his utter amazement with everything going on (after all, he’s never seen any festivals quite like this before).

Wild couldn’t show any restraint when teased by so many wonderful smelling foods, in fact he had already snuck away for something called a ‘corn dog’ before Time could even finish laying down the ground rules for how everyone was expected to behave. Fortunately, Twilight has since stayed close to his mentee’s side to prevent any disasters like Wild poisoning himself or setting fire somewhere. He also may or may not have allowed himself to be roped into trying some very questionable and overpriced snacks (but Twilight won’t admit that for the sake of his own dignity).

As for the Old Man himself, he seems to simply find joy in everyone else’s from afar, although overtime, a few of the boys have managed to get him directly involved in festivities, particularly Wind who insisted Time tries winning Malon an adorable stuffed alien from a shooting game (he succeed on his first attempt followed by many other effortless wins once he got addicted, much to the little sailor’s awe and jealousy).

The only hero to not partake in any aspect of the festival is Legend. Interestingly enough, such a colorful celebration has actually seemed to have the opposite effect on him compared to his brothers, resulting in quite the sour mood shown through his bitter scowl as he stands outside the crowd’s reach.

He curses himself for even bothering to leave the inn earlier, only having done so to shut up Warrior’s claims about him ‘pouting’ as he’s apparently been doing this entire week…Okay, so maybe Legend can internally admit that he hasn’t been exactly ‘overflowing with friendliness’ lately, but he refuses to say it’s because he’s ‘pouting’; that makes him sound childish. He’s not pouting, he’s sulking (big difference) and it has nothing to do with this festival. He just doesn’t care to lose the entire contents of his wallet to rigged games and food poisoning on a buttered stick, that’s all!

If that’s the case, one would think he’d just sneak back to the inn already. No one’s keeping him here on a leash, in fact most of the boys are too busy losing their patience playing ring toss to even notice whether Legend stays or goes. Why continue to stand around being unsociable in the background, grumbling against a wall as others clap and tap their feet to a melody currently played by musicians near the village fountain ahead, especially when it’s making him so grumpy?

“Don’t you just love music? It’s almost too beautiful to be real - at least I think so anyway.”

Legend glances to his side, curling his lip in poorly mocked disgust that earns him the undeserved gift of an angel’s laughter. Even after all these years of developing tough skin, he can’t stand strong against such a sound.

“Oh, don’t be like that! I’ve seen you playing some of those instruments of yours, so you must be a fan. How many do you own? Must be enough to open your own music shop by now,” You tease, your voice somehow becoming the only sound around him despite all those who stand practically shoulder-to-shoulder in front of you both singing and laughing loudly…yet even you pay no attention to them, your eyes locked solely on him as if he’s actually someone special.

“I don’t have that many.”

“Well, as someone who doesn’t even have one, I’d say it’s a lot,” You’ve never bothered with personal space, too used to knowing everyone to wonder why it would be important, thus you’ve always practiced the same beliefs around him, showing no care as you lean against the wall next him, letting your arms brush enough to make him flinch at first before ultimately relaxing.

“Is it because you’re shy? I mean, you have no reason to be since you play wonderfully, but I still get it if you are,” You theorize aloud, still stuck on the same topic Legend wishes you’d change. Surely there’s other things you’d be interested in aside from his personal life. He’s only a simple traveler, after all, although the more he thinks about it, that’s probably what appeals to you so much. He imagines it’s rough being stuck in one place your entire life, never knowing much about what lies beyond the horizon until a strange, stranger washes up at your feet.

“I’m not shy,” He rubs the back of his neck, glancing away from you when he decides eye contact is too bothersome, “I just like my privacy.”

You tilt your head cutely with a hum before gazing back into the crowd (much to his relief). For a long moment, you keep your eyes closed and listen to the music, waiting to break the comfortable silence between you both until the song changes into something slower and more intimate than the previous, “...Do you at least dance in front of others?”

“Dance?” He scoffs.

“Yes, dance! You know, that activity where you move your body to a particular rhyme? The thing Hylians usually do for fun? …Or are you unfamiliar with that word, ‘fun’?”

“I know it.”

“Oh, do you now?” You challenge, leaning forward in an attempt to catch his expression, yet he turns his body away while biting back his smirk which surely mirrors yours; he can hear it in your voice, “Show me then.”

“Show you?” He laughs, “What? You can’t just trust me?”

“Nope,” You pop the ‘p’ then roll your eyes when Legend dramatically grabs his chest and flops his head back against the stone wall (something he does with more force than intended, yet he forgets about the pain quickly).

“I’m hurt! Here I was thinking I’ve moved on from being a hostile in your eyes only for weeks of effort to swirl down the drain -!”

“- You’re not a hostile, just an idiot,” You push yourself off the wall and extend a hand to him, “Regardless, I’m afraid I’ll need a demonstration in order to believe you.”

Legend glances at your hand, biting down his nerves which he prays you don’t notice. It really is a simple request and it’s not like you’d both be alone. Other couples are already dancing, some showing creatively in how wildly they move while others move slowly as if joint as one…It shouldn’t be a big deal to take your hand, but for some reason it is, the thought making his heart race.

“Please, Link?”

Your eyes are pleading and soon he finds himself too weak to ignore them anymore. Reluctantly, he accepts your hand and puts up no further fight as you then eagerly drag him into the crowd. 

Standing amongst all these people, Legend finds himself a bit bashful, wondering if perhaps this is going to be a mistake because surely if anyone notices you together, they’ll mention it later on and he’ll be forced to question exactly what this interaction means, but that’ll have to be a worry for later. Once you find a suitable spot close to the music, you turn around with a bright smile which is plenty to convince him it’s too late to back out; he’s already in too deep.

And so you both dance. Your hands placed upon his shoulders, his delicately holding your hips. You’re clearly no stranger to this art form, moving perfectly in sync with the rhythm while guiding Legend to do the same. He, himself, has danced plenty of times before during his journeys, but with you it feels different. It feels more special and natural with you as his partner. There’s a slowness to the world, one he feels all too often when in your presence yet this time, it’s amplified. He truly hears nothing from the crowd. Even the music is a distant echo completely overshadowed by your beauty as you sparkle under the colored lights above.

Legend normally isn’t one to let others close, often keeping them at arm's length in fear that nothing good will come from making friends, especially friends who he meets during his travels. You shouldn’t be different. He met you only weeks ago and isn’t quite sure how ‘visiting’ will work considering he ended up here by total accident. Despite every rational thought telling him he shouldn’t be getting his hopes up towards you, it’s all ignored when you allow him to twirl you around with ease until you return right back in front of him, the difference being you’re now closer, pressed against his chest instead of being kept at arm's length. 

You’re intoxicating. Like an alcoholic who treasures his last beer bottle, Legend can’t seem to let you go. He can only find himself smiling in a dazed sort of way - dazed by you simply being you as you slip your hands down to his chest and rest your head upon his shoulder. 

“...Can I say something that might sound weird?”

“Everything you say is weird.”

Despite his teasing tone, you move your head off his shoulder to look into his eyes with such a gentle smile that, for a second, he’s convinced he’ll melt, “I’m really happy you washed up on our shore. I…really like having you around.”

“I -...” The words feel trapped in his throat, wanting so desperately to be said as you wait patiently for some kind of response. He knows you won’t mind not getting one since you understand him as being the quiet type anyways, but regardless, “...I like being here with you, too.”

You beam - like a sun rising over the ocean, your eyes lit up and your smile glows. It not only means the world for you to hear that from the man who’s always been so reserved around you, but it’s also important for him to say himself. He really likes you. You’ve quickly become the music in his life - the rhythm he wants to forever move to and melody he wants to forever cherish. He’d be fine if you keep resting your head against him, humming along to the song that’ll forever haunt his mind…That’s how he wishes things had stayed.

In reality, he had remained silent that evening and for all those following, refusing an answer you unfortunately never pushed for. Maybe you already knew, maybe you didn’t, however neither outcome changes his inner desire for you nor the pain he feels every day without you by his side. He’s not sure what hurts the most anymore: the fact that you’re gone or the fact that you never existed to begin with. Now, he’ll never get to hold you again, never get a chance to swallow his fears and just confess his feelings to see how you would’ve reacted. All he gets is this agonizing memory that haunts him anytime he hears festival music similar to that night he spent with you during that summer solstice on Koholint…