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buckys-lover · 10 months

Text

Dile (Cuéntale)

miguel o’hara x spiderwoman!reader

song inspo: dile by don omar + playlist

main masterlist // nsfw masterlist

word count: 4.5k

summary: Miguel gets jealous of your relationship with Peter. He’s on a mission to prove he’s better.

warnings: SMUT (18+), minors DNI, porn without much plot (I need him carnally), jealous/possessive miguel, biting kink (pretend his bites aren’t paralyzing y’all), miguel being a munch!, unprotected sex (pls be safe irl), overstimulation? (he makes you cum a lot), creampie/breeding kink, dirty talk, operating under the assumption they’re both nude under their suits, Spanish (I’ll put translations in a reblog), mutual pining/a confession!?, way too many italics bc I need to emphasize everything.

A/N: this was just supposed to be a short concept piece…and it ended up taking me three weeks to write bc I just kept adding more. anyways, felt weird to write miguel speaking spanish if the reader doesn’t understand so this is technically latina!reader // as always, feedback is greatly appreciated, reblog and lmk what you think! <333

Translation Reblog

You’re coming back from a successful mission with Peter (Spiderman 9411). You were able to stop and capture an anomaly, a variation of Doc Ock, and send them back to their original universe. Upon your return, you make your way to HQ to brief Miguel on what happened. Everything was going fine. You and Peter were laughing and joking around together while giving report, just having a good time.

Meanwhile, Miguel was watching you both intently, narrowing in on the way that Peter casually touches you, the way he looks at you, the smile that reaches his eyes when he’s around you. Miguel was always suspicious that there was something going on between you two. A week ago, his suspicion was confirmed when Lyla mentioned that you two slept together (even though you made her promise not to tell anyone). And he couldn’t stand it.

He keeps his tone clipped and cold. Simply saying you did a good job before dismissing you. You and Peter turn to leave, but Miguel speaks up, telling you to stay behind. You don’t think much of it; after all, you were one of the few people Miguel was close to. Maybe he just wanted to discuss something unrelated. You tell Peter to head out and you’ll catch up with him later. The doors shut behind him, and you can hear them lock. The room is silent except for the occasional beeps and replays of other missions on the screens. Miguel doesn’t say a word as he steps off the platform and walks toward you. Tension lingers in the air as you face each other.

He's the first to break the silence, “What’s going on with you and Peter?”

You’re a bit taken aback, confused about where this was coming from, “What are you talking about? We’re just friends.”

He shakes his head in frustration, “No me mientas cariño; I’m not blind!”

“Miguel, no sé de que estás hablando.” But you do know. And it’s becoming evident that Lyla snitched on you.

“Don’t play dumb.” His voice hardens, and he comes closer, “Answer me.”

You’re starting to get fed up with his attitude. What you and Peter do is none of his business, and you place a hand on his chest to try and push him away, but he’s firm in place.

He grabs your wrist and leans down, a harsh whisper in your ear, “Tell me, what does he have that I don’t?”

It hits you then, and you pull back, narrowing your eyes at him, “Estás celoso?” You scoff in disbelief when you finally take notice of his jealousy. You honestly want to laugh, but the look on Miguel’s face lets you know that’d be a bad idea.

“You didn’t answer me.” He huffs.

You decided then to stoke the flames, “Let’s find out.” Maybe he’d finally cut through the tension and get to what you know you’ve both been craving.

Your heart races as the tension between you reaches its peak. With a daring glance, you take a step closer to Miguel, bodies almost touching. Your eyes lock, and the air crackles with anticipation.

You take in the way his pupils dilate at your words as he leans in, your lips mere millimeters apart, teasingly close. “Tell me you want this as much as I do.” He murmured, voice heavy with need.

His admission sends shivers down your spine. Your breath hitches and your heart hammers against your chest. You've wanted this for a long time, and nothing's stopping you now. You wrap your arms around his neck and close the remaining distance between your lips. Mouths colliding in a passionate and urgent kiss, all your pent-up desires finally unleashed.

Your bodies mold together as your tongues intertwine, exploring and tasting each other with a fervor born of longing. Miguel's hands find their way to your waist, pulling you even closer while your fingers weave through his hair, tugging gently.

Breaking the kiss, your heavy breaths mingle in the air, eyes locked with an intensity that speaks volumes.

"Don't hold back, Miguel. Enseñame. Show me you're better." Your thighs clench when you hear his growl in response.

Your lips soon meet again in a hungry, passionate kiss, igniting a fire that has been smoldering for far too long. As your bodies press against each other, your hands begin to explore, tracing the contours of each other's forms. Miguel's touch is possessive, his fingertips leaving a trail of tingling sensations on your skin.

You’re backed up against the console as Miguel's lips descend upon your neck, trailing a path of fiery kisses along your skin. He revels in the soft gasps that escape your lips.

He lifts you and lays you down; you can feel the coldness of the metal through your suit. His lips are still on your neck, and you can feel the sharp point of his fangs against your delicate skin. Without warning, he bit you, drawing blood. You gasped at the sensation, feeling his tongue soothe over the bite marks that were already beginning to heal.

“Your biting kink is showing.” You tease, still enjoying the residual sting of it.

“I don’t have a-- shut up.” He growled the words into your neck before biting you again. It was obvious that it was something he enjoyed. A way to mark you up and make it clear who you belong to now.

“Te ves tan hermosa así.” He whispers as he pulls away, eyes glued on your neck, giving a hum of satisfaction over the way you look after he’s staked his claim on you.

You watch him as he brings his hand to your collarbone, tracing the marks gently with his claws before he hooks it under the neck of your suit. You hear it first. The sound of the threads tearing before the feel of cool air.

He ripped your suit. He ripped your fucking spider suit. “Miguel!” The shock evident in your voice as he’s practically torn the suit off your body. He meets your gaze, showing no signs of remorse for what he just did. “No te preocupes preciosa. I’ll make you a new one, a better one.”

You huff at his words; you really liked that suit. But your protest quickly dies down the moment you feel his lips on your bare chest. He’s taking his time with you, marking you up as much as he possibly can. Lips latching onto your nipple, tongue swirling around and sucking while his hand gives attention to your other breast. Your back is arching, trying to get as close to his mouth as possible, reveling in the feeling of him sucking and nibbling your sensitive skin.

“Love these fucking tits.” He whispers against your skin as he holds them in his hand, loving the softness of them and how you react. You need him desperately as his kisses and bites travel further down your body. You’re squirming under his touch, and once his lips meet the apex of your thighs, you buck your hips up into him. Your fingers make their way into his hair, tugging him so he places that sinful mouth where you need him most.

“Por favor Miguel,” You can barely think straight with the way he’s looking at you. “Necesito…” Your words trail off. He looks at you, a teasing glimmer in his eyes, “Qué necesitas?”

You groan in frustration, tugging his hair again to show him what you mean. He just shakes his head at you, not willing to budge until he hears you beg for him. He’s waiting. Patiently. You know Miguel, and he’d wait forever just to prove a point.

You finally give in, “Miguel, please, need you so bad.” He tilts his head, still waiting expectantly; he needs to hear more. He needs to hear how desperate you are for him.

“Ay por Dios! Miguel, I can’t wait any longer. Please- need you…need your mouth. Anything!” You’re whining at this point, and can’t believe how pathetic you sound. But it was enough. That’s what he needed to hear before finally giving you what you craved.

He has your thighs tight in his grip, spread apart in front of him. You meet his hungry stare as his lips latch onto your pussy, sucking at your clit. Your hips buck up, grinding onto his face as a needy moan escapes your lips. He groans, enjoying the pressure, tongue lapping up your juices.

“Tastes so good, so fucking sweet~ could eat you for days…and so wet; todo para mi, amor?” He’s on a high, whining the words into you. Craving you and the way you feel with his mouth on you, trying to keep you close as possible.

Your thighs begin to tremble, and you try your best not to crush his face. He takes notice and shakes his head. His grip tightens and presses you closer to him as if he wanted to confine himself in the slice of heaven you carry between your legs. And, God, it feels good. He’s watching you, observing the way you toss your head back in pleasure, how your free hand tries grasping at anything to ground you, the way your body shivers at his touch; he’s learning your every movement, committing your body to memory.

"Need you, such a good fucking pussy- so good…eres mía, solo mía.” The sounds he makes are obscene and he’s rambling, showering you in praise while drunk on the taste of you.

You’re squirming against him, not much movement granted as large hands are holding you down, eating you like a man starved. As if he’s on death row and you’re his last meal, and you’re not sure how much more you can take.

“Miguel~” Your voice strained, barely able to speak and tell him that you’re close, so embarrassingly close.

“C’mon, be a good girl ‘n cum for me.” He encourages, tongue flicking at your clit to bring you closer to the edge. You gasped as you felt Miguel running a finger up and down your slit, teasing you before working their way inside your weeping cunt, curling up and hitting that spot inside that has you seeing stars. Your grip is still tight in his hair, thighs quivering as your orgasm washed over you, the sensation rippling throughout your whole body.

You’re vaguely aware of Miguel pulling away as you’re coming down from your high, blissed out and hazy. It felt like you ascended to the heavens. In your daze, you look at him, noting the arrogant smirk on his face and his fingers glistening in the dim light, covered with your juices. He holds your gaze as he brings his fingers up to his mouth and sucks them clean, moaning contently at the taste of you.

“I’m guessing Peter could never make you feel this way, huh?” He’s right, and he knows it. But you couldn’t help but want to push his buttons.

You hum in response, “Mm, he was pretty good with his tongue too.” Teasing, waiting for him to react. And you see it; the way his body language changes in an instant at your insinuation.

He sneers at you, baring his fangs and gripping your chin to look him in his eyes, glowing red with anger, “You better watch your fucking mouth, sweetheart.”

“Or what? Qué vas a hacer Miguelito?”

Miguel narrows his eyes at the provocation, a dangerous glimmer in his eyes. “Ten cuidado, preciosa,” He hisses through gritted teeth as he leans in. His grip tightens, keeping his gaze set on you. “Sigue hablando y verás.” And just like that, his attitude changes on a dime, the anger in his eyes replaced by a hungry glint, a low growl rumbling in his throat as he leans closer to you. You barely take the time to notice that his suit is disappearing as if it were a hologram or nanotech, leaving him naked. You feel his length press up against you, and your eyes widen in shock. He’s big. Already hard and aching for you and you feel his precum drip against the inside of your thigh. You can’t help but wriggle your hips, desperate to feel him closer. “Look what you do to me.” He whispers the words in your ear as he grinds against you. Your eyes take their time looking down. Taking in everything that’s him. His broad shoulders, rippling muscles, chiseled abs; it’s insane how strong he is. You shiver at the thought of what he’s capable of. Your gaze dips further, following his happy trail down just as he’s started teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock, “Been waiting for this,” He groans, eyes shining with excitement, “No tienes idea querida.” "Bet it won’t compare, huh?” He asks, still painstakingly teasing you, “Bet it’ll feel so much better than all the times I’ve fucked my fist thinking of you and this pretty little pussy.” You gasp at his words, clenching around nothing, waiting in anticipation for him to finally fuck you. He laughs at your desperation. “Sabías eso, amor? Fantasized about you all the time, about you being mine. Solo mía.” He punctuates that final proclamation by finally entering you. He was taking his time, the stretch of him inching in was a euphoric mix of pain and pleasure, and you weren’t sure how much more you could take. It was too much; you could begin to see him bulge through your stomach, and you shake your head, not believing that he could possibly get in deeper. “Shh, just take it.” He sighed his words, enjoying the way you feel wrapped around him. “No puedo Miguel-” You gasp as you finally feel him fully press up against you. You’re so full you can barely breathe. Instinctually you wrap your legs around his waist, trying to keep him still while you adjust to his size. He pressed his hand against your navel, pushing down slightly, feeling himself. His eyes roll back at the sensation as a groan escapes his lips, wanting desperately to live in this moment forever. "Mírate." He urges, kissing your cheek. “Mira que bien nos vemos juntos, amor.” You listen to him, looking down at where you’re joined, and you squeeze at the sight of it. You rock your hips against him, letting him know it's okay to move, and he pulls out a little before pressing back in, making you moan while he sighs contently. “Look at how well you’re taking me, like you were made for me. Only for me."

The tenderness of his words was contrasted by the roughness of his movements as he began snapping his hips against yours. “So tight,” his words coming out through a strained growl while pounding into you. “Dios! You’re squeezing me so fucking tight.”

“Feels so good, Miggy-” Tossing your head back as you moan out, pleasure engulfing you, your legs tightening around him, pressing your heel into his back as you tried to get him deeper. His next thrust was a little more brutal, his hips colliding with the back of your thighs.

“Así mi vida, así.” He growled, baring his fangs in a pleasureful grin. "Look at me." You look up at him immediately, moaning his name loosely at the feeling of him so deep inside you. So deep and big and full.

You can barely hold his gaze, trying desperately to resist the urge to roll your eyes back every time you feel him thrust back into you. You reach forward, nails digging into his bicep, trying to ground yourself in the moment.

“C’mon, you can take, can’t you?” He mocks you, his tone condescending, enjoying the way that he has you craving him. “Esto es lo que querías, verdad? But now look at you, can barely handle it-” His words cut off by a groan escaping his lips at the feeling of you clenching tighter around him.

He’s right, you don’t know how much more of this you can take as your legs begin to shake and you feel yourself quickly approaching orgasm again. Desperate hands gripping onto the flesh of your hip as he ruts into you. You let out a wanton moan as he slams home again, pulsating around him. “Cuéntale,” His grip on you tightens, sure to leave bruises by the time he’s done with you, “Cuéntale que soy mejor que él.” He whispers in your ear.

You’re nodding your head, babbling incoherently, not even aware of anything you’re really saying. He grins, knowing you’re close, and his ego soars at being able to get you there so soon. He groans as he feels you tighten around him; your eyes shut tight, and your body quivers from the intensity as your climax overwhelms you.

He slows down, trying to give you a moment to come down from your high in an effort to avoid overstimulating your senses. Soon, your body begins to relax as you’re grounded once again in reality. Your eyes are glossy with welled-up tears, and you offer Miguel a blissful smile.

“C’mon Miggy, thought you wanted to show me you’re better, I expected more from you-” You’re breathless as you speak, and it’s obvious to him that you’re just trying to egg him on, but he falls for it anyways. In an instant, he stopped his movements. His red eyes have never looked so menacing before and your breath caught in your throat. Without speaking, he pulled out, and you whined at the loss of contact.

He ignores your objection, opting to manhandle you, forcing you to turn around. He presses you down against the console, ass exposed to him. You put up a struggle in vain as he grabs your arms and pulls them back. You soon feel something wrap around your wrists, binding them. He webbed you. Effectively keeping you bound with something you couldn’t possibly hope to escape from. You felt him yank back on the binding, your hands resting above the small of your back. You hissed at the aching pain, but it was soon replaced by a moan of desperation when you felt the plush tip of his cock line up with your entrance. You expected him to tease you again, to make you beg for it, but Miguel was feeling merciless now. He drove into you without warning, making you take it as deep as he could possibly go. And at this new angle, you swear he was hitting your cervix. Your mouth opened in quiet ecstasy as he had his way with you. He kept your wrists behind your back in a tight hold, his other hand gripped firmly on your hip; you were sure that by the end of the day you’d have bruises on your hips in the shape of his fingertips. His hips were snapping relentlessly into yours, pistoning in and out of you so hard it was difficult to have a single coherent thought other than wanting more. Miguel’s growls and grunts were animalistic as they tore through his chest, his grip getting immensely tighter and his hips moving impossibly faster in this new position.

"That's better- fucking ruined and creaming on my cock. Who else can fuck you like this? No one, huh? Not Peter, not Ben, no one; only me.”

You’ve given in now, effectively broken, and all the brattiness you had left in you is gone, "Nadie! Nobody- just you, only you can fuck me like this." You choke out, legs trembling, pleasure coursing through you.

"That's right. You’re mine; mine to touch, to taste, to fuck- all mine." He harshly slaps your ass to emphasize his words. You squeal at the contact of his palm on the soft flesh, enjoying the sting it offers.

“Solo tuyo amor.” The words escape your lips in a breathless sigh, your mind hazy, dizzy with desire.

He’s all you can think of; your senses overwhelmed by everything that’s him. The way he’s holding on to you, the way he feels aggressively pumping inside you, the grunts and groans he makes that are music to your ears. You’re delirious, unable to remember what your life was like before being here with him. Miguel reaches forward, lightly slapping your cheek. “Open up, sweetheart.” You oblige without a second thought, letting his fingers in your mouth. “Suck.” Who knew a single word could have you clenching so tight around him? A whimper leaves your lips as you obey his command, getting his fingers slick and wet with your spit. Too soon, he removes them from your mouth, and his fingers make their way down to your aching clit, rubbing tight circles to get you even closer to the edge.

“Uno más querida, solo uno más.” He urges as he speeds up his movements. You’re grinding onto his hand, eagerly chasing your release, having lost count of how many times he has had you come undone.

This one hits you like a freight train, full speed ahead. You swear you black out for a moment, your body buzzing and pulsing with a delightful and all-engulfing pleasure. You’re strung out, not offered a break as Miguel keeps pushing into you.

“Quiero verte Miguel, porfa~” You sob your words out from the overwhelming power of your orgasm, trying to turn your head to see the man who has wrecked you so thoroughly.

Slowing down, he listens to your plea and grants your wish, “Nunca te voy a negar.” Before you know it, he’s torn the webbing off your wrists with his claws and turns you around, having you once more on your back, legs spread open, welcoming him in again.

He slips back into your weeping cunt with ease, resuming his brutal pace as he tries to reach his climax. He grips onto the soft flesh of your thigh, claws slightly digging in as you wrap your legs around him, securing his spot inside you.

"Dime que soy tuyo." He pants needily, using his body to drive you forward.

"Eres mío, Miguel-" You gasp, raking your nails down his back to prove it, marking him as yours. "Mine, mine; solo mío amor"

His cock jumps inside you, both of you closer to your release. "That's right. I’m all yours,” His eyes flickered down to the place where your bodies met. Watching your pussy take him in over and over again. “Let me give you all of me- wanna fill you up.”

You unashamedly whimpered at his words, “Please, please Miguel-” Your words are starting to slur as you begin to beg him.

"Please, what? You losin' your words, now? So drunk on my cock you can't think straight?" He slaps your pussy lightly, clit puffy and sensitive. But you can't say anything, not when he's getting rougher, faster— pounding into you with a new force and determination. Rubbing tight circles on your bundles of nerves that have been exploited for the sake of your pleasure. You can feel that familiar feeling building, that knot getting tighter at the base of your stomach.

You’re almost in disbelief that you got there so quick, but with Miguel, it was like he knew your body inside and out, understanding exactly what you needed and giving you so much more.

He’ll never get over it. The way you tighten and pulse around him, the way your cunt squeezes him in a vice grip, making it harder for him to hold off his own release. The way your eyes roll back and the heavenly sounds that leave your mouth. He wants to make you feel this good for the rest of your lives. "Ay Dios— You're so pretty when you cum all over my cock." And he's still going, still pumping into your sensitive cunt with the same force. Your senses are so overwhelmed; it's like you can feel every single one of your nerve endings on fire. "Fuck, gonna fill you up- that's what you want, right? Wanna feel full of my cum? Want me to breed you?" You're nodding desperately as you start to babble nonsense that you want him, need him, everything he wants to give you, you'll take. He leans down, burying his face in your neck as his groans reverberate against your skin. You feel him twitch inside you as he pushes in deeper, emptying himself inside you, letting you milk him for all he's worth, trying his best to not let a single drop go to waste.

He pulls back, arms braced on both sides of your head, caging you in. He meets your gaze, the red of his eyes barely visible anymore, hooded and glazed over from the feeling of you still squeezing him tight, keeping him locked in. When the haze subsides, his shoulders relax a bit, drawing closer to you. Miguel’s barely audible when he finally speaks again, but you hear his words anyways.

“Aunque tu vuelvas con él, dame otra noche.” There’s a hint of pain in his eyes, unsure of whether any of this actually meant anything to you.

Your heart aches at the allusion that you’d want anyone other than him, and you bring your hand up to his face, gently cupping his cheek, “Miguel, tú sabes que no voy a volver con él, soy tuya, recuerdas? Only yours.”

Relief washes over him as one of his rare smiles graces his face at your words, “Te quiero como a ninguna.” He murmurs as he leans down to place a gentle kiss on your lips. He pulls away, the start of another sentence on the tip of his tongue, but he’s soon interrupted.

With a flicker of yellow light, Lyla appears beside Miguel. “Took you two long enough! Was wondering when you’d finally admit your so very obvious feelings for each other.” She rolled her eyes behind her pink, heart-shaped sunglasses. “You’re welcome, by the way, this wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t snitch about you smooshing booties with Peter.” She adds, beside you now, close to your ear as if trying to whisper. “Lyla!” You swat your hand at her, embarrassed by the thought that she was aware of everything that just happened and mentioning the reason why this all transpired in the first place.

“Alright, alright,” She throws her hands up in mock surrender, “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone, but you owe me for this!” With those final words, she disappears.

Your gaze meets Miguel’s, who just shakes his head in disbelief, rolling his eyes at the fact that Lyla chose such a tender moment to intrude on. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out, giggling at the absurdity of it, and soon enough, he joins in on the joy you found in the moment.

~~~

Tagging some of my lovely mutuals and ppl who asked to be on my taglist/might be interested <3

@cozykali // @joaquinwhorres // @sunflowersteves // @fanboygarcia // @cowb00t // @mothdruid // @openforjean // @bobfloyds // @buckyytorres // @bvckysmoon // @inklore // @rhettabbotts // @wint3r-h3art // @zstrn // @golden-barnes // @ofstarsandvibranium // @sunmoonandeddie // @bubblebuckys // @ladyelissarose // @thinktankgoldfish // @harmonia-dread // @living-in-a-daydream97 // @eddiesslutwhore // @dilfsfordinner // @tarjapearce // @manyourlookingood // @lovers-in-japan-reign-of-love // @mraisedto3 //

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lionar0und · 7 months

Text

Dada! - Leona fic

Leona has some conflicted feelings about his baby This is mostly my late night rambling

Warnings - Fem reader Kinda, mostly leona and cub centered, Small doses of traumatized Leona

Special thanks to @queen-shiba for all her help. Thanks Bestie!

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

Leona loves his sleep. It's a known fact that he almost loves sleep more than he loves his wife.

Almost. He certainly loves her enough for-

"Dada!"

There she is. Leona has...conflicted feelings about being a father. His wife wanted a cub, so they had a cub. He wanted to continue his legacy anyway...but Seven, he's struggling.

It was fine at first - mildly unnerving, but fine. You were struggling, and he hated it. But you wanted Melody so badly. He can't ignore the adrenaline rush he felt when he first felt his cub kicking; or the jolts of joy whenever he held you, arms around you and holding your belly.

But now that she's here?

She's beautiful. She's everything he never thought he could love that he would live for. He'd die for her to but dying is just sleep to him...and sleep is easy. It's numb and comfortable. But living? Waking from bliss to feed his tiny mewling cub as she wails, face red and tiny fists shaking is hard. Giving up some of his late nights out, facing the embarrassment of her sobbing at royal functions; all those judging eyes watching?

Yeah. That's rough.

Really rough.

Today's rough too - He only just got back from another Spelldrive practice, and now that hes a pro, his energy has to be up to play!

But duty calls.

"DADA!"

"Oi, don't shout at baba," He grumbles weakly, "It's late, nugget."

"I want hair." She huffs. For a second his heart stirs. She has your eyes.

"You have hair. See? It's right here." He tapped her head...and it started again. The instant panic because what if his nails are too sharp? What if he hurt her?

He represses the urge to throw up when remembering the feeling of his own parent's claws raking over his eye.

"No dada. Your hair. Pretty!"

"My hair? Baby, what-" He is cut off by a sharp tug on his hair.

Oh.

"You want locs?" It's more of a surprised gruff squeak than anything else. "You want your hair to look like mine?"

"Yes!" She squeals excitedly, hopping on the bed with him. "Hair like yours!"

Shit. Shit, he doesn't do his own hair! He's a prince, he has a stylist-

"Dada?"

Damn it...look at that sweet face. Funny, he didn't realize Melody had his grumpy face.

"Alright, come here grumpy cat." He quickly grabbed his phone. "Kifaji? Yeah...bring me all that hair stuff my stylist uses and my tablet stand."

===========================================

As Leona works diligently, he silently notes to raise his stylists salary.

Melody is squirmy after a while...but luckily his baby girl is just as nerdy as him. Nothing a chess tournament on TV can't fix. Besides, hes a good multitasker! He watches the how-to video on his Ipad while carefully doing his precious cub's hair and violently judging the shitty chess plays.

How many more clips does he need? This kid has a lot more hair than he thought...

"Almost done?"

"Almost baby." He grumbles, trying to pick up the clip he dropped.

Sevens, his hands are sore! Twisting Melody's hair lovingly yet firmly, he feels that familiar bubble of annoyance. Why can't the royal stylist just do this instead?

Stop it, Leona. He thinks bitterly. Be the dad you wanted. Suck up being tired! You overblotted and still played spelldrive after! This is for your cub!

But it's been over an hour. And he is so, so tired. And he has practice tomorrow.

And his baby girl wants to be just like him.

He tries to ignore the weird feeling in his throat he gets when those doubts creep in again.

Come on man. Just a bit longer.

====================================

Almost two hours later, he's done. He's oddly proud of himself. And his reward?

He gets to go deaf!

Melody is squealing in glee now, running around with her tiny mirror.

"I look just like dada!" The tired dad hears her screaming down the hall. It's making him feel oddly smug, too. He actually did it.

Finally, he can reap his rewards. Snuggled tightly into his bed and using your maternity pillow he stole , he can finally sleep.

"DADA I WANNA PLAY DOLLS!"

...but for his baby girl, maybe sleep can wait until tomorrow.

#twisted wonderland #leona kingscholar #twst #twst leona #leona x reader #twst x reader #twst headcannons #twst leona x reader #leona twst #twisted wonderland leona

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manicpixiefelix · 1 month

Text

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 20.

Summary: The evening of the Arts Collective dinner somehow gets even worse for you as Farleigh gives you some unfortunate news about Oliver and Venetia and their moonlight exploits. The worst part is having to figure out a way to break the news to Felix.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: angst, mentions of childhood/ongoing parental neglect.

A/N: 3729 words. I finally cracked it!! Figured out the ending!! Sorry for the delay I was busy writing 20k about Jacob Elordi being hot and mean which I will never publish (Euphoria, a show I STILL have not watched beyond like 20 minutes of clips on YouTube lol). Anyways I've missed you and these characters and hopefully 21 won't be too far away xx (also I started my new job so that's been exciting but also Ooft ouch my bones hurt)

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

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For a day that was already pretty damn shit, Oliver's cruelty was like salt in the wound. Hand still on the doorknob after you close it, you listen to him retreating over the ringing in your ears. If you let go, you'll see your hands shake, so you're frozen, heart in your throat, the house growing quiet around you. It's familiar, but unwelcome in this moment.

Tears well in your eyes as you sit back at the desk, computer humming pleasantly, bathing you in a cool glow. Part of you was desperate to run after him, to oblige him, to reveal every inch of your past and soul to him, hoping he was true to his word. That he could actually care about you in a way that very few have ever bothered to. That he could love you the way Felix did.

I don't know you.

An even stronger part of you wanted to run right across the hall, to bury yourself beneath the covers of your bed, safe and waiting for Felix. Surely he'd be back soon, if Oliver's return indicated anything. You hadn't heard him return, but it wouldn't be long. But how were you meant to look at him, lie next to him, even touch him, after all of that. It had been easy to bite your tongue on your disappointment so far, knowing that like so many others, Oliver's love for you thus far had been merely as a proxy for Felix himself. You knew Felix was vaguely aware that that was how others sometimes viewed you, but you'd always been eager to assure him that as long as he genuinely cared about you, and the others were good to you, you'd be more than happy.

And that used to be true. But none of the others were Oliver. Felix knew you loved the boy just as genuinely as he was coming to, you could never tell him that your affections were not as genuinely returned.

Your pride held you hostage in this room on both accounts.

When you finally raise your head from your hands, scrubbing unspilled tears from your eyes, you try and focus yourself once more on rereading the email that had already put you in a foul mood before Oliver had made it worse. It had taken all afternoon to detach yourself from it's contents, especially knowing your mother was waltzing about the grounds, spoiling your sanctuary.

The details of an official nondisclosure agreement, sent from your parents' team of lawyers. The paperwork was to arrive in the next few days, but you were being warned ahead of time. Before Oliver had interrupted, you were finally getting to the point of finding it all funny, that they were that insistent on cutting social ties with you that they'd go to almost any lengths that remained discrete, and out of the general public's reach. Now it just... ached.

Felix's heavy footsteps echo through the long gallery outside your study door, but he heads straight into bed. You wonder if it's even worth it to head to bed that night, you can't see yourself getting much sleep.

Now mostly, tragically, sober after you'd spent the afternoon trying to get out of your mind to cope with the day, you wonder if a drink would help put you to sleep, put an end to this abysmal day you'd endured. Which is how Farleigh finds you in the Blue Room, frowning at the bottle of liquor you'd left in the broken piano.

"You're up late," you mused flatly, still trying to decide if it was worth it to drink until you pass out in your study, "how was the -"

"We need to talk," Farleigh's tone is even more irate than you'd expected. Neither he nor the Catton siblings were ever in a particularly bright mood after being forced into any kind of proximity with your mother, and you were always touched by their loyalty, but this was something else.

You lower the piano lid, leaving the liquor for the time being. Turning to look at Farleigh, it's almost shocking to see how dark the look in his eyes was.

"What... happened?" You asked slowly. Farleigh's gaze flicks to the door behind you, to the long gallery and to the entrance to both yours and Oliver's bedrooms. Prying eyes, listening ears, though you were almost certain you'd heard Oliver leave not too long ago. A muscle in Farleigh's jaw twitches, and you instead offer your study for some privacy.

"You're not going to like it," is the first thing Farleigh tells you once the study door is closed. He sounds furious. Turning off your computer monitor, you choose to sit yourself on the sofa by the window, looking at him expectantly.

"This day's been a fucking nightmare already, I'm sure I can handle it," you rolled your eyes. Farleigh, however, chooses to sit at your desk, sideways on the chair, rather than joining you.

"You told Oliver not to fuck around with Venetia, didn't you?" It's unsettling to see Farleigh so serious. Still, his words have something twisting in your gut, even as you tried to play it off.

"Of course I did."

"Then tell me why I saw them practically eating each other on the front fucking lawn."

It's like you can feel the moment your blood turns to ice in your veins.

"This isn't funny," your lip curls, but Farleigh's severity remains, "this is a sick fucking joke, Farleigh, and a shitty thing to try and pull today of all goddamn days," your voice is rising, but he lets your fury build, uninterrupted.

"It would be an awful joke," he agreed, "if I was joking." All of the hopelessness that had plagued you since Oliver had left began to crystalise, calcifying into rage as his words settled in, "I don't care about Oliver," Farleigh's gaze shifted for a moment, still tense and furious, but there was something very nearly apologetic in his next words, "but unfortunately for me and for you right now, I care about you and Felix."

"Felix." Oh God. This couldn't be happening again. You'd told Oliver; you'd warned him. The fucking nerve!

"Yeah," Farleigh mutters quietly, "and you're going to be the one to tell him." When you try and protest, you're met with a sharp glare, and a stern reminder of how this exact situation had been reversed only twelve months ago over Eddie, "I'm not doing that again," Farleigh warned, "you owe me."

"Fine," you spit, "fuck, I'll tell him," hands shaking, you light up a cigarette. Farleigh stands, but hovers by your desk for a moment.

"He really knows how to pick them," He muses flatly.

"Shocking taste in men," scowling our of the window, your agreement is nonetheless irate, "fucking unbelievable," you hissed under your breath, "and he thinks there's something wrong with me?"

"There is," Farleigh's words surprise you, stinging a little, all things considered, "you fell for that stupid, little boy too," he reminds with a particularly vicious look.

"So it's my fault I have to break Felix's heart?"

"I'm saying that you've given me a lot of attitude for not liking him, but Oliver wouldn't even be here without both of you."

"Get the fuck out of my study, Farleigh," you order, pointing at the door, cigarette in hand and fury in your eyes.

The anger bubbling in your gut is beginning to burn. A thousand things are racing through your mind; top of the list is wondering just how quickly you make sure he's never welcomed back at Oxford. All you'd need was your computer and an hour to ruin Oliver Quick's entire life; you'd done it before. But if you turned that monitor on, if you had to once again look at that fucking email from your family - not even your family, their lawyers! - you think you might throw up. Tomorrow, with a clear head, you'd make your move.

And you'd tell Felix. No need to wake him now, give him a few hours to still live in the fantasy where the boy he was falling in love with wasn't once again going after his sister. Fuck- Venetia.

The more you thought about it all the more frenzied your outrage became. She wasn't innocent in this either, she never was. Venetia Catton was more than adept at finding both yours and her brother's exact pressure points and pressing with vehemence. So desperate to be loved yet so unable to come across as anything but insatiable, she'd always taken what she could get. You were good, but clearly you weren't enough to distract her from new, shiny Oliver.

The taste of smoke sticks to your teeth, as does your sour contemplation on how little the people you tried to love respected you. Or Felix. Christ, how were you meant to tell Felix?

Except you can't even really begin to contemplate how you'll break the news when you hear footsteps across the gallery.

Felix doesn't even knock - not that he ever has - before he lets himself in. You thought you'd have more time; the anger still burns white-hot inside of you, but despair and guilt flickers at the edges. He looks about as rough as you feel, concern and ebbing irritation in his expression. Of course, he'd spent the evening in the presence of your mother; none of the others ever felt nearly as much ire in her presence as he did.

Without a word, he strides across the room, all but pouting, and throws himself onto the sofa beside you. Drawing his legs up onto the sofa, he makes himself as small as possible - quite a task considering his size compared to the small, squashy sofa - and leans against you, head on your shoulder.

"Hate that woman," he hisses under his breath. You know he means your mother, but your mind is on his deceitful sister. All you can think about is Venetia and Oliver, but you can't very well tell Felix now. You don't have the words to not make everything so much worse if you tried. Already you'd decided to tell him in the morning, but right now you had to keep him from figuring out what was bothering you. Or that you were bothered at all.

So you decide to take a leaf out of Felix's own book, keep him happy and distracted in the way you knew best.

"Bad night?" Your voice is low as you move your arm back, fingers carding through his hair. The way Felix hums is still dark, but he shifts closer to you. After another moment of quiet, he huffs an irate breath out through his nose and begins to pluck at the hem of your shorts.

"Can I maim your mum the next time I see her?"

"She's not worth going to jail over," you tell him, leg shifting into his touch. Felix's hand stops fussing with your shorts to grip your thigh.

"You are," he huffs resolutely, and even despite your own anger you smile.

"My knight in shining armour," you laugh softly, lips against his forehead, "but do you really want to be so far away?" Leaning back against him, your hand moves from his hair to graze your nails down his bare arm, hoping he takes the hint. Thankfully, he does. The warm grip on your thigh tightens, and when he turns to look at you, there's something hungry in his eyes, "she's not worth your time, Fi," it comes out almost as a snarl, a truth you believe even in the depths of your own, otherwise mostly unrelated anger, but you turn your tone teasing, smirking at him, "I just choose to think about how I was apparently on your mind all night."

"I'm always thinking about you," he almost sounds a little breathless as he says it, managing to sit up more properly without moving away. You let your gaze flick to his lips before going back to look him in the eyes. Tongue darting out to wet your lips, you tilt your head very slightly, beginning to smile.

"And what are you think about me now?"

You'd always quietly loved whenever Felix was feeling possessive, and now moreso than ever. It made distracting him easy and fun, and Felix himself, his hands as he pulled you over to straddle his lap, to hold you close, to cradle your face as he kissed you so furiously, it was almost enough to distract you too. In all honesty, it was the only good thing to have happened all day, though even this was coloured by guilt, knowing what you still had to tell him when you found the right words.

However suddenly, Felix pulls back wearing a frown. For a few moments you find yourself catching your breath, confused, arms still around his neck.

"Something's wrong," it's not a question.

"Nothing's wrong," you lie, and hope it's more convincing them his usually are, "nothing at all," you hum, and move back in to press kisses to his jaw, hoping it's enough of a distraction to trail those kisses down his neck.

"You're angry about something," damn it. Of course Felix knows you too well.

"Am I?" You want to keep the ruse up for as long as you can manage, "and what would that be?" You murmured before you're sucking a beautiful, bruising hickey against his neck.

"I don't -" but his breath catches, grip on you tightening. It almost works; he swears faintly under his breath, losing himself in the moment and leaning into you, but then he actually seems to shake himself out of it, "come off it," he sighs, and you sit up, trying your best to appear both confused, and still in the mood, "if I'm not allowed to do this, neither are you." He says pointedly. Even though you're fighting a losing battle, you still lean in, still try and distract him with your mouth on his.

"Do what?" You murmur, nose to nose as you peck him quickly, desperately trying to keep your tone light and teasing. But you can see it in his eyes before he even says it; he knows exactly what you're doing.

"Distracting me because you know how fucking hot I think you are."

"And if I was," you murmured, pressing yourself against him, "why would that be such a bad thing?"

"Because you're being evasive," Felix pushed you back, held you at arm's length as your expression began to drop, fury beginning to creep back in as you remembered what exactly it is you didn't want to tell him, "you're not evasive with me;" he insists, "everyone else, sure, but this - whatever this is - is.. it's- it feels weird. This isn't you!"

"What am I then, Felix?"

"Mine!" He answered far too quickly, frustration sling out of him, but appears to catch himself, correcting to, "my best mate, alright? You don't not tell me things."

"So if there is something I'm not telling you, can you not trust that I might have a reason?" Finally your anger bursts from you, furious in the evening light. Felix has gone quiet, shocked; it's been a long time since you'd yelled at him like this. He looks wounded, apologetic, something you're not used to. Climbing off of him, you stand, you have to give yourself some distance from him, "there's a lot I don't tell you, Fi," you sighed, expression pinching as you tried to force yourself to calm down.

"You can tell me anything," Felix's voice has softened, leaning forward on the sofa. It aches to look at him, to see him so beautiful and vulnerable in these moments, "you know that."

"I know," you agreed, "it's not that I can't tell you, it's that I don't want to," you pressed the heels of your palms to your eyes, groaning; you can't look him in the eyes, can't even look at him right now, "and I will, that's the thing; I'm going to tell you, you're right, I always do, I just -" in a moment of weakness, your voice comes out almost sounding pitiful, defeated and frustrated, "I thought I had more time."

"What's wrong?" Felix asks softly. When you laugh, there's no humour in it. The more the reality of your situation sinks in, the more the fight leaves you.

"It's going to make you angry, or upset, or probably both," you sound rather helpless when you say it, but it seems like you no longer have a choice in when you get to tell him.

"Is it your mum?"

"I wish it was my mum," you shook your head, finally moving your hands to shake them out as you stepped back, leaning back against your desk with defeat. With every moment that passes you can feel Felix's gaze upon you, burning into you. When you are upset, he will never relent until he finds the source; usually it would be a gift, make you feel wanted and special and like you actually mattered for once. But this knowledge feels like a curse.

"We could run away," it's a last resort, barely more than a mutter as you look at your hands.

"What?"

"Just us," you continue, fidgeting, unable to look at Felix and the concern you knew you'd see in his eyes, "I could get us a little apartment in some artsy, London suburb," it's not going to work, not going to distract him, to keep him from prying the information from you that you know will hurt him, but it's all you have left, "you know nan would help us out, she'd kill for me. We could do whatever we wanted, never have to work a day in our lives. We could be whoever we wanted, wouldn't have to live in a house where they'd rather we die of heat stroke than ruin the wood panelling with an air conditioner," all you can think about is how you fell for a boy who didn't love you the way you hoped he would, and turned out couldn't even really respect you, "never have to go back to Oxford."

"What happened?" Standing, Felix crosses the short distance to your desk. There's so much sweetness in his voice as he sits in the desk chair beside you, looking up at you with his damn perfect brown eyes.

"I can't let this happen again, Fi," you hadn't even realised you were close to tears until it becomes harder to speak, "I tried, I fucking tried, I told him -"

"Who?"

"Ollie," you sniffled, face growing hot as you couldn't stop your tears from beginning to fall, "I warned him not to go near Venetia- I just- I can't believe she'd do this again, that Ollie couldn't respect when I ask him this one thing -"

"Ollie and Venetia?" There's an unsettling, blank quality to Felix's voice. The look in his eyes is far away and ice cold.

"Apparently hooking up on the front lawn," you clarified, voice weak, trying to wipe the tears from your eyes, derision edging it's way back into your voice as some of the anger returns, "for God, and Farleigh to bare witness," you took in a deep, shaking breath, attempting to pull yourself together, "I tried, Fi -"

"Fucking unbelievable," Felix snarls furiously, getting to his feet, "both of them- fuck, was Farleigh sure? He wasn't making some sick joke?"

"Even Farleigh wouldn't fuck with us like that," you muttered darkly, before adding, quiet, sounding actually pained with frustration, "I've been nothing but good to them, Fi, I thought -"

"You are never touching my sister again," Felix cuts you off firmly, voice forcibly calm. Surprised both by his tone and his words, you look up; he's so much closer than you'd realised The look in your best friend's eyes almost overwhelms you; protective, possessive, "I'm not watching her treat you like that anymore," he braces himself against the desk either side of you, crowding you against it.

"Fi," your barely manage a whisper, heartbeat racing in your chest, "I..." for just a moment he looks almost pained, and he hangs his head, faint, humourless laugh escaping him.

"I have to watch you fuck around with people who would barely give you the time of day; you're so fucking good it kills me sometimes," he bites out; you can't tell him that you know they're just using you, that so many people simply entertain the idea of you as a way to stay in Felix's life. Even if he'd never admit it, Felix knows. There's very little in his life that he's ever felt the need to reflect on, and even less that he feels any particular guilt about. You used to think he was fine with this arrangement, that he knew you could find the fun in these one-sided dynamics, "they're fucking using you," he grits out, but you're surprised by the way his fury almost sounds like despair, "I watch them and they're fucking using you like you're not even a person, Y/N."

Felix looks up; the looks in his eyes is more serious than you think you've ever seen from him. Deliberately, firmly, he takes your face in his hands.

"You're not my shadow, you know that, right?"

For a very long moment, you think you feel your heartbeat stop in your chest. On the surface it's a completely ridiculous question, except...

Feeling your face grow hot, you know he can see you tearing up; Felix has always known you better than anyone, always known exactly what you seem to need to hear. Nodding weakly, caught, pinned by his intense gaze, his focus on you, your lip trembles. Already fraught with emotions from the day, and the evening that had just passed, you have no fucking idea what to say. Felix has never spoken this out loud, never let himself properly wrestle with the subtext that coloured so much of your dynamic; it flickers across his face, the surprise and guilt and realisation as it hits him what he'd just said.

You are so much more to him than anyone else will ever give you credit for.

You are not his shadow, but you are unequivocally his.

So you kiss him.

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #felix catton x reader #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #oliver quick x reader #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick x y/n #oliver quick x you #felix catton smut #head heart hand fic #manic writer

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klausysworld · 7 months

Note

Sub Klaus and Reader doing Owner/Pet sex.

The reader buys Klaus puppy ears and a butt plug tail. Klaus at first doesn't want to, but the reader goes out when she returns she finds Klaus naked with the plug and ears, humping one of her pillows.

Good puppy

Klaus found it difficult to be submissive to begin with. Deep down inside he knew he craved to be loved and taken care of and Y/n had shown him how lovely it truly was.

He began taking to all her pet names and wanting more and more affection from her.

As for in the bedroom, it was just something she had offered to try and he couldn’t deny that he had fantasised about it.

He had tried most things before over a thousand years anyway but seeing as how things had progressed and the fact that he hadn’t been fully submissive very often, he was new to a couple of things that she wanted to try with him but he did so anyway.

But he wasn’t quite expecting the gift she presented with him.

Two names she had called him frequently throughout their relationship were ‘pet’ and ‘puppy’. The words always calmed him down and sweetened him. But he was beginning to realise how much the words meant to her when she gave him a puppy set to wear.

Ears, tail, collar. The whole deal.

He swallowed nervously and glanced up at her, his face pink with embarrassment and his mouth unable to find the words he needed to say.

Her expression faltered and she silently put the lid back on the box and pulling out it back in the brown paper bag she had brought it in.

“I’m sorry” she whispered “I didn’t mean to upset you” she cleared her throat and stood up from the sofa. She kisses his forehead softly and gave a small smile “It wasn’t a good idea, I got carried away is all” she waved it off but he could feel the beginnings of guilt creeping in. “You know I would never humiliate you” she whispered and he nodded immediately. “Okay…good, cmon let’s just forget about…that- and go do something else hm?” She smiled and he returned it hesitantly. He took her hand and stood with her as she lead him away.

Y/n never mentioned it again. And so Klaus didn’t either but it played out a thousand times in both their heads.

Klaus had tried to find the bag a couple times when she left the room but wasn’t able to.

After thinking it over many times in his mind, he decided that it was something he did want to try after all.

So when she had left this morning, given him his kiss and told him she would be a few hours, he began a thorough search and eventually found the box under all her things in her bathroom cupboard. He sat down on their bed and picked up the ears.

They were a little darker than his hair colour but almost a perfect match to his wolfs fur. He clipped them into his curls and looked in the mirror. He swallowed thickly as he fiddled with the strands to have the ears look more natural in how they sat.

Hesitantly he picked up the collar, it was a deep and dark blue which could be mistaken for black in dimmer lighting. He watched his hands in the mirror as he buckled it around his neck. His finger played with the loop that must’ve been meant for a leash and he could feel his breathing getting heavier.

He sat for a moment just looking at the tail. It was fluffier than he remembered it, much like his wolfs and it wasn’t limp like he had assumed but instead he was able to bend it and position it. His top teeth sunk down on his bottom lip as he touched the butt plug on the end. He took a breath and shut his eyes before slipping out of his clothes.

He hadn’t realised how hard he had gotten just from imagining Y/n’s reaction to seeing him all dressed up like she wanted. He let out a small whimper when his palm brushed up the side of his cock, Y/n wouldn’t like it if he touched himself but if it meant he was gonna be her pet puppy for the evening then maybe she wouldn’t mind?

Klaus wasn’t too sure but he wanted to make her happy not angry so he grabbed the lube from their usual toy box and tried to prep himself like Y/n had the first time she had put a toy in him.

Klaus ended up having a little too much fun preparing himself and found himself a moaning mess as he fingered his own ass and pumped his solid cock quickly. He only stopped when his ringing phone popped up with Y/n’s name and his skin flushed red as he answered it.

“Y/n?” He panted as he picked it up and he heard a rustling from the other side

“What’ve you been doing Puppy?” She questioned immediately and he let out a whine at the name

“Nothing” he whispered and she breathed a laugh

“Oh are we lying now Pup?” She asked and he glanced down at his desperate dick which was weeping at the tip. “Are you playing without me Nik?” She taunted and he whimpered

“I didn’t mean to…it just happened” he whined and she chuckled

“Oh I’m sure it did…very sure. But if I get back and you’ve cum even once then you won’t be stopping for the rest of the night” she warned and he whined again much like a nervous dog.

“When will you be home?” He asked needily and she clicked her tongue

“Give me 20 minutes. I love you Puppy” she answered quickly

“I love you too…” he whispered before she ended the call and he easily slipped the tail plug in. And went to get some tissue to wipe his hands and lower self clean before going back to their bed and fiddling with the end of his new tail.

He pulled it between his legs making the fur texture brush against his needy cock. He breathed a quiet “fuck” to himself as he felt his desire grow more and more. He groaned and pulled a pillow to his chest, hugging it to him and hiding his now red face in it. Klaus tried to calm himself, to get a grip but all he could think about was being touched and he needed it so bad. He couldn’t help but hump against the pillow that smelled so strongly of Y/n. His cock and balls rubbed against the soft material and he bit down on the corner to stop his sounds. He could feel his ass squeezing the plug inside him as he throbbed for his release.

His head snapped up at the sound of a throat clearing and his skin burned with embarrassment when he saw Y/n with her arms folded looking down at him.

Hesitantly he sat up, keeping the pillow to cover his swollen cock.

“Where did you find this hm Puppy?” She murmurs as she runs her fingers through his curls to the fluffy ears on top his head. He let out a small whine when her finger wrapped around the loop on his collar and she tugged it gently.

“I wanted to surprise you” he whispered and she hummed

“Well you’ve done well” she praised and kissed his lips briefly

“I have the tail in too” he revealed and knelt up to show her it making her smile and sit down opposite him after kicking her shoes to the ground

“Oh you’re such a good boy” she whispered and he let out a relieved sigh. Her hand cupped his cheek gently and he leaned into it instantly. “This doesn’t mean that I’ve forgotten about your little solo session earlier” she mumbled and he nodded “but I might dismiss it if you behave” she offered and he smiled. “Move the pillow Puppy” she ordered and he slowly did so making her groan softly at the sight.

His cock twitched as she stared at it lustfully and he got onto his hands and knees to crawl over to Y/n.

Her hands gently stroked his hair and a smile graced her lips as he nuzzled his face into her neck. He kissed along to her shoulder and let the tip of his tongue dance across her skin gently.

“Such a good Puppy” she murmured and he nodded obediently and continued to leave little marks in her exposed skin. She pulled her strapless top off over her head and let out a sigh as her breasts were exposed to the air. Her shoulders rolled back to push her chest out, Klaus took the hint immediately and nipped down them gently. “Can you show me the tail Pup?” She whispered and he pulled back with a pink face

“You can’t tell anyone about this” he utters, a much more serious glint in his eyes and she nods knowingly

“I would never tell anyone what we do here” she promised and he nodded with the release of a soft breath. She could still see his hesitation and so she decided to spare him the further embarrassment: “You don’t need to show me, come here let’s see how we can help your poor friend there” she gestured to his desperate cock that he was shyly looking down at before doing as she asked and sitting down with his legs open for her to see him better.

She smiled back and him and leaned forward to peck his lips before her hand wrapped around his pretty dick and stroked him slowly. She smiled at his soft whimpers and used her other hand to unloop the button on her jeans to kick them off.

Klaus’s eyes closed and his head tilted back, his hands were behind him to keep him stable as his hips tried to buck up making him whine as the toy inside him moved slightly.

Y/n slipped her underwear off and let her spare hand stroke through her own wetness gently. She hummed lazily as her fingertips slid across her clit to stir the heat inside her.

Klaus pushed forward to climb on top of her, she let out a soft sound of surprise as her back hit the mattress and she looked up to see him above her. Her lips tugged up as she looked at the puppy ears on his head as his legs bent so his heavy cock could lay against her lower stomach. She moved both hands to slide round his body, under his arms and to his back as his face neared hers.

“You’re so pretty” she whispered with a smile before his lips pressed to her softly and they both let out soft sighs. Their mouths pressed together multiple times before moving against one another in a heated fashion. Y/n’s hands pulled him closer by the backs of his shoulders. His arms moved under her body to hold her close, keeping them against each other.

Klaus breathed unevenly against her lips as his hips began to rock against her, he drew further back to slide his tip through her folds up to her clit. She let out a hum and kissed him passionately before pulling back to look up at him. His eyes stayed closed and his slightly swollen lips remained parted as he rubbed against her.

Her hands caressed his upper back gently as his warm bare chest pushed against hers. “You wanna push inside Puppy?” She whispered softly and he nodded as his face dropped to nuzzle her neck. Y/n continued to pet him leisurely as his tip began to slip inside her. “You feel so good Nik” she praised quietly when he let out a whine and pushed deeper inside, burying his cock inside her contently and keeping himself there for a small while.

She ran her fingertips and nails down his back gently, twirling his tail between the with a smile on her face. Niklaus grunted in response as he felt her play with it.

Slowly he started to grind his hips to hers, a shaky breath leaving his lips as he gently rocked into her. Y/n moved her hands back up to the back of his neck, running her fingers through his soft curls and to the puppy ears. She let out a puff of air as his cock slid back and forth leisurely and she leant her head forward to kiss his shoulder gently.

His head pulled up to look down at her with a lazy smile. She smiled back and cupped his cheek, bringing his lips down to hers in a soft loving kiss. He released a muffled moan and pushed his cock a far into her as he could making him squirm when his sensitive tip pressed to her cervix and she groaned, pulling back from his lips.

She stroked his hair gently and whispered gentle encouragements for him to go a little faster. He obeyed easily and rolled his hips back and forth quicker. Little pants of breath pressed to her skin as he nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck.

He breathed in her sent, his cock only aching more at the smell and making him rut into her quickly. Y/n kissed she side of his head gently, her legs wrapped around his waist and her hands rubbed the top of his back gently.

“I love you” she whispered softly and he whimpered, his hips stuttered before picking up pace. A moan left y/n’s throat as the head of his cock rubbed over her g-spot and her hands held onto his back tightly.

“Mm love you too” he whimpered, nuzzling closer to her neck and he fucked a little harder before slowing down again. He was a gasping, whining mess as she pet him softly

“Such a good boy” she murmured, her lashes fluttering as her lower belly pooled with that familiar heat and her back began to arch as his cock gently hit her spot over and over. She uttered a string of curses as her nails dug into his skin making him whimper before speeding up again.

Breathy grunts and broken moans left his mouth as the clap of his skin meeting hers echoed through the room. The distance between each thrust getting closer and closer. Y/n moaned and slipped her fingers into his hair, pulling his head back by his curls to push his lips onto hers.

A vibrating moan travelled from his mouth to hers as he thrust faster and faster, his tip at her spot repeatedly until she was whispering ‘yes’ against his lips over and over again. She could feel his cock pulsating, twitching and his hips stuttering

“That’s it puppy” she whispered with a groan “let go Nik” she encouraged and almost immediately after he was filling her with warm spurts as his body slowed back down and hers squeezed him tightly. Klaus kissed her lips needily a few times as he came to a halt and lay on top of her, still buried deep inside.

Her hands stroked his hair, the fluffy ears on his head and then down his back to the tail and back up in a rotation to soothe him. She hadn’t expected him to fall asleep so fast but she wasn’t upset about it, she gently rolled on top of him and pulled off him. She smiled softly at his swollen pouted lips and his long lashes that rest against the apples of his cheeks. Y/n kissed the tip of his nose gently, watching at his face scrunched up at the contact. She got up and went to the bathroom, wiping herself clean with a warm cloth before coming back and cleaning Klaus off.

She gently pulled the tail plug out of Klaus, stroking his thigh when he whined in his sleep. She lay down beside him, pulling the duvet up both their bodies and kissing his forehead as she unclipped the collar from around his neck and pulled out the puppy ears from his hair.

Y/n pulled him close, his head on her chest as she pet his back “i love you Nik”

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edapparently · 5 months

Text

James Somerton Sucks For Many Reasons. But Also His Opinion On Heartstopper...

Ok so I was watching Todd in the Shadows' video on fact-checking James Somerton's vids (of course after having watched Hbomberguy's video). And a clip played of James lying (again) about straight white women complaining about a gay show. Except he mentions at the end of the sentence that these supposed people were "exposed to gay content for the first time in their lives via Heartstopper".

19:18 - https://youtu.be/A6_LW1PkmnY?t=1158

Now idk if that was supposed to be a joke or if that reflects any of his actual opinions on it (it's not like he's known for telling the truth anyway now tho)

But I'd just like to say anyway [this ties back into James I swear just bear with me]

I'm 18 years old now and I'm still dealing with issues cause by the homophobia I experienced in high school. And one of the few things that got me through it was when I got the first volume of Hearstopper when I was 16. And that actually was MY first real exposer to properly gay content. ME. Another gay boy. Not a straight woman.

And not only that, but it was the first time that I took in a piece of media and could honestly say "I see myself in this"

It was the first time I felt really seen and felt like I had my issues understood. And even as I've gotten slightly older through the two years, they've still been able to help me.

My friends will know that I've been struggling a lot with certain mental health issues that affect my physical health too. And I only realised how bad my problem really is and how much its been affecting me when I read volumes 3 and 4 and saw Charlie dealing with almost the exact same problem. I had been in such denial about it and worrying that it wasn't even real that I hadn't even considered it. But reading about him suffering from and eventually admitting to his problem and trying to get help made me think about what I had been experiencing. And gave me some perspective as to what exactly was happening in head and to my body.

The reason I'm saying all this is because I'm trying to show that these books about gay teenagers are REALLY good at portraying the experiences of gay teenagers. (At least based on my own personal life, Ik it could be very different for others and that's still valid) and they made me understand that what I had been through and am still dealing with because of that; are not isolated incidents and that I am not alone.

And James... someone who tried to give off the impression that he knows a lot about queer culture. Used it as an example of mindless romance fluff...

Which I think shows:

His lack of understanding of what it is actually like growing up as a gay boy in our current time. (Again, not trying to speak for everyone but it's very accurate to my own life)

And

2. His unwillingness/disinterest to look into what the books actually contain and how readers may respond to it.

[Also I just realised after typing all this that he could have meant the Netflix show, which imo wasn't as good but I think my point still stands?]

#hbomberguy #james somerton #heartstopper

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viluvr-archived · 2 years

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Hello Hello!!! may I request placing butterfly clips on their hair w/ Leona, Vil, Rook, Cater, Malleus, and the Tweels? I hope this is alright! have a great day<3

PUTTING BUTTERFLY CLIPS ON THEIR HAIR .

Leona , Vil , Rook , Cater , Malleus , Tweels .

Gn!reader :]

( a/n — tyty! Have a great day too, sorry it took so long :<< this req is so cute T^T )

Part 1 — Part 2 .

LEONA !

When "Leona can I put butterfly clips on your hair! Pretty please..? PLEASE?" fell out of your mouth, he thinks about it real hard, why's he even thinking about it like it's a life or death situation? He asks himself.

He might look silly, oh but it'd feel good when you play with his hair.. maybe he'd indulge it just one time.

Please run your hands through his hair, comb it, massage his scalp/head, and re-braid the front braids of his hair. If he feels bold enough to ask that then he'd be responding with a snarky remark like "Hey, you wanted to do this, so it's only fair I get to enjoy it too y'know" and he smirks and grins smugly while saying that. (Watch out for his soft purrs while you do things to him/his hair.)

"Leona! 'M done, come see what I did to your hair!" Should he look at it? It only felt good when you braided, combed, his hair, etc.. but what does it look like?

"Ahh, yeah, thanks but.." there he got dragged to face the mirror while you hold onto his face lightly squeezing it for him to face it and not getaway. And, he thinks it looks... good..? Well, he supposes it's not that bad!

"You like it? Yeah?" You ask while watching him check himself out, looking and touching his hair, "Yeah, I like it. You wouldn't mind doing this.. more, won't you?" 'Course you don't but it's nice to tease him once in a while.

Growls at anyone who he sees or hears chuckling at him/his hair, those people who laugh, giggle, chuckle at him shouldn't try and hide it, he senses it anyways! So, no escape.

VIL !

Well.. maybe yes, maybe not that he'd agree, but you can tell he indulges you 95% of the time with the fact he'd allow you to play with his hair when he doesn't want or like anyone touching or playing with it, he doesn't want a ruined or messy hair after all.

"Hm, very well then. Go ahead, dear." So please, don't mess his hair up as much as possible! He trusts you the most 'and the best.

Well, it relieves his stress the moment your hands brush his hair.

"Hey, gentle now. Don't tug on my hair too much. Alright?" It's a meltdown because he says it with so much care and gentleness, give him butterfly kisses, please

"Vil, hey, look! Do you like it?" You grin excitedly at him, hoping he'd like it. He stares at the mirror, touching and admiring the clips, and the little styles you do to his hair. "Thank you, I appreciate it really. Best believe I won't take it off as a reward for doing and bring so good" and with that, he gives you a smooch on the cheek, he prefers to call it a peck anyway.

"Really? You like it! That makes me so happy, Vil." He admires the sight of you being happy and giddy, he holds your hand and thumbs it. "Why not I do the same to your hair? So then, we'd match." "I like the idea of that, Mr. Schoenheit."

ROOK !

He's thrilled! Go ahead, go ahead! Do anything, he's yours.

If you wanna do it then beware, he moves and giggles a lot out of excitement. (He's trying his best to behave!!) "Rooook.. how many times do I need to tell you, to stop moving so much" "Ma chérie, I apologize! I beg for you to not stop!" It's kinda... weird to see Rook without his hat, after all it's what's unique about him, the Pomefiore house warden.

"There! Finally.. check it out, Hunt!" You send him a wink, while he giggles excitedly. He won't take it off too, "Oh my.. it's amazing! Gorgeous! It'd be an honor to display a pretty thing at school, I'll leave my hat behind and wear these clips at school." Lo and behold the whole school's jaw-dropping with the sight of Rook not wearing his hat, and! He has butterfly clips on his hair, isn't that too childish for Pomefiore?

Don't worry, he views it very elegant. No need for Vil to take it away from him!

CATER !

Funny because you and Cater suggested the same idea at the exact same time, blurting it out at the same time.

"Babe... you are amazing! Great minds think alike after all" jokes on you he already bought the butterfly clips and the materials you'd need, and now he's already laying his head on your lap, taking out the small, loose ponytail between his hair.

"There, ya comfortable? Or should I lay differently?" "Mm, no need. C'mere let me do it already." He'd film it and post it that's for sure, (always with your permission ofc!)

He's very patient, making sure you take your time styling his hair and putting adorable, adorable butterfly clips on his hair! He always melts when you caress his face. He also tries his best to be himself whenever he's with you, you made him himself after all. You reassure him to take it slow and he's very appreciative of that.

"There! Done Cay, you look adorable! Mwah" kissing his cheek while you give him the hand mirror, wow, a kiss and he gets his hair done wonderfully by you. He's definitely doing yours next time and he's not going to take it off! He's showing it off even, he has the best partner in the world he says.

MALLEUS !

He was just laying on your lap, then you started fiddling with his hair.

He fell asleep, tho. He seemed half awake so you asked for permission. "Mal? You ok with me putting these cute butterfly clips on your hair, hm?" He just nods and hugs your waist, then went to dreamland.

Chuckling at his actions, you proceed to part his hair and brush it. His hair is so silky and smooth, it was like fine silk. "Mal, you there? I'm done" He woke up seeing you smiling at him gently, what a sight to see, he gently holds your face and caress it then proceeded to admire what you did.

They're adorable he thinks, but what's important is that you're happy about what you did and that's more than enough, if it makes you happier he'd wear it! He even puts some flowers on his hat and of course, it makes him happy to wear the clips, showing it off. No one dares laugh at him, no one laughs at your works and what you do.

He ends up wanting to sleep with them because he claims it's a memory/souvenir to keep. Lilia had to take it off him but couldn't, he ended up calling you to take care of your lover, he was pouting and you didn't like that do you had to promise you'd do his hair again, and what makes him happier? You had butterfly clips on your hair too so you're matching. Happy dragon noises, indeed.

TWEELS ! [ not poly. ]

JADE thinks it's fascinating, sure! He's agreeing, it's ok to try new things after all. Just make sure the aesthetic matches the octavinelle dorm and his uniform, or else Azul would not like it for formalities. He'd truly hate taking it off, he'd try to make Azul agree.

"It's ok dear, you can put clips on the long strand of my hair." Decorating his bangs is so fun, like butterflies and cute clips on them? Adorable.

"Thank you for agreeing, Jade! You look really adorable!" Adorable? That's a new one, he thinks. Floyd gets jelly and wants those clips too, so he had to buy Floyd those and... kinda style it on him.

FLOYD is giddy and excited, he looks like a lightstick. "Really, really, really, shrimpy?! You wanna do that? Okok! Sit, take your time, hehe!" He moves a lot like Rook, but please don't get mad at the poor eel, he's just excited :( he promises and tries not to move too much! Please don't stop

"Wooooahhh! This is me? My hair? It looks s'different! I like it, I like it!" This one's a stubborn one, Azul might not wanna try and ask him to take it off, or else he'd... "Why! Shrimpy made this and it's special. And it's not ugly!" "Floyd we never said it's ugly.." "OK! Then I won't take it off because it's pretty! That's final blah blah!" Anything for you AND HIM after all.

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pigeonstab · 30 days

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Okay but with Cross singing his dad disappointment songs, do you think Nightmare starts trying to be more encouraging with him? Like giving him a little shoulder pat after missions and telling him he did a good job, or just being more vocally praising? lol

Yes, absolutely. As always you are so right it hurts. I love how your mind works.

And of course Cross would react like a puppy getting treats, he like physically perks up everytime it happens. It stays in his mind, he replays Nightmare's words in his head, the pats on the back feel like they stay even after (that's also cause he's so touch starved).

I imagine that scene from I believe brooklyn 99 (I only know that scene from clips btw so I'm probably gonna get things wrong) where Peralta? I think? Calls captain Holt(?) dad. And like the ppl around him react and stuff. I'll see if I can find it.

Can you IMAGINE Cross calling Nm dad??? On accident ?? He'd be so fucking embarrassed, cause he's supposed to be so closed off and serious, he's supposed to be a royal guard, and Nightmare's his boss. He must feel like he's letting himself go, like he's loosing control.

Maybe that funny accident actually turns into angst, where Cross starts to avoid Nm, to try and distance himself, to not get too comfortable or indulge in that stuff, also partly because of he doesn't feel like he deserves it.

Nightmare might take Cross pulling away as him not liking the extra affection, so he stops for Cross' sake. Cross takes that as Nightmare being upset/disappointed in him.

Either it ends in miscommunication with Cross feeling like he deserves it anyway, or it ends with Cross having to explain how he feels and express his needs, which is a mortifying ordeal to him, to ask for what he wants.

This was way longer than I intended and the english is probably wack but you gave me too many thoughts!!!

#I have a lot of favouritism towards Cross 😭#I should talk about the other guys more #Cross just has that 'I can't ask for what I need ever and will do anything to self flagellate' vibe #and I can't resist that kind of character #Charlie somegrumpynerd #undertale au #sans au #text post #undertale #utmv #xtale cross #cross sans #cross!sans #nightmare!sans #nightmare sans #dreamtale nightmare #nightmare's gang #bad sans gang #bad sanses

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cottoncandy-cult · 7 months

Text

Sesshomaru X Reader

Won't lie Sesshomaru had some of my favorite character development in the show, he went from hating humans (Which he did have a good reason, as much as I don't hate Inuyasha's mom she was still a homewrecker, and I don't care how much the spoiled princess loved the dog demon daddy when she became aware of his first son and wife, she should have at least tried to be reasonable. I honestly am kinda miffed at Toge for sleeping with her too, but at the same time it's a passive irritation since Sesshomaru's mom didn't seem mad anyways so it may have been less of a secret family and more of a secret harem MAYBE) but he went from hating humans to raising a little human girl and declaring that nothing was worth her life.

Also, the kids are named after characters I enjoy, Seizou is from Basilisk Ouka Ninja Scroll (The basilisk is not for the faint of heart, easily triggered or those with sex-based trauma. It's a very dark anime, highlighted by the historical accuracy sprinkled throughout including some of the darker aspects involving certain behaviors), Kaoru is named after the main female and love interest of Rurouni Kenshin and I can't remember who Sanabe is named after. I wrote this years ago and watch a lot of shorted somewhat lesser-known anime. I'll probably remember later.

Sesshomaru walked quietly down the dirt path, it was a bit late in the day and he was searching for a place to camp so that Rin and Kohaku could rest. They, along with Jaken, and Ah Un, followed the dog lord. Though they quickly came to a stop at the rustling of something moving through the woods, Kohaku was quick to push Rin behind him. Though to their surprise a young woman tumbled out of the brush, she was battered, and her scent told the demons of the group that she was half demon. When she took notice of them, she tried to push herself up and move away, absolute fear on her face. "It's... A girl..." This beautiful statement slipped from the mouth of the little green imp; Rin simply giggled. Sesshomaru simply watched the girl, that was until a voice could be heard from the direction the girl had been running from. "My sweet little songbird, if you continue to try and fly away, I'll surely have to clip your wings." The girl seemed to freeze, they barely caught the look of terror on her face before she managed to force herself up and try to run away.

Sesshomaru looked back towards where the voice came from, right as his golden gaze reached the brush line a vine of thorns had burst free and grabbed the girl by the ankle. She was yanked into the air and slammed down, her arm giving a sickening crack as it made contact with the ground and the young half demon had fallen unconscious from the pain that wracked her whole body. He was quick to sever the vine, with Rin being there he didn't want the girl to watch the battered woman die. "Jaken take Rin away from here." The young imp was quick to obey, but Rin paused. "Are you gonna help her Lord Sesshomaru?" Her chocolate gaze flitted to the unmoving woman, the woman seeming to barely breathe. Sesshomaru had looked to Rin, then gave a sigh. "I suppose... She's obviously incapable of protecting herself..." Rin had immediately perked up, hoping the woman might even come with them so that she wasn't the only girl in the group.

"Come on silly girl, we need to get going!" Rin was quick to follow the imp and the two headed dragon after that, Sesshomaru having proceeded to approach the unconscious woman. He took in the sight of her (H/l) (H/c) hair, matted and tangled. Her (S/t) skin was bruised, some scars here and there. She was likely some kind of servant or slave, but even still something about her interested him. Though being in such poor condition he could still say that she was pretty, maybe in a perfect state she could even be considered beautiful. He had witnessed many beautiful demons, but she was different. Maybe it was because she was half demon, because she is almost like a forbidden fruit. Exotic, rebellious, her very existence was considered a sin to both humans and demons. His thoughts were interrupted when what appeared to be an older monk stumbled out of the woods, but he was not tricked by this illusion. By scent alone he knew it was a serpentine demon in disguise, when the lesser demon took notice of him, he smiled.

"Hello there young man, do forgive me I'm afraid I was lost in the woods for some time." His voice was like that of a regular human male's, but Sesshomaru didn't miss how the man's eyes glanced back and forth to the woman and himself. Sesshomaru could only smirk at the demon's pathetic facade, knowing the demon had likely recognized him and was debating on running. Unfortunately Sesshomaru didn't care, simply cutting the creature down as he wasn't worth communicating with. As the demon's corpse turned to ash Sesshomaru turned his attention to the girl, kneeling down to look at her. 'Well Rin is still a little girl... I suppose she does need a mother figure.' And that was that, with his choice made he carefully lifted the woman into his arms and carried her off as he followed the scent of the ever growing group he was making.

"And that was how I met your father." The woman's voice had faded off, she sat on the outer porch of the home she shared with her husband. Her (E/c) gaze shifted to the three sets of curious eyes; these eyes belonged to 3 children 7 years of age. It was 4 years after they met that (Y/n) and Sesshomaru had been wed, it wasn't long after that she was carrying his 3 pups. 2 little boys and a girl, all 3 were beautiful in their own right. "Mom! You can't stop there, it doesn't count! That's when you first saw him, what about when you woke up!" This was her first born, Seizou, he was an exact copy of his father and she adored that because he was such a mommy's boy. "Yeah, what about when dad asked you to be his!?" This was her little girl, Kaoru, the girl's long hair was a mix of her mother and father's as it was like a pastel (H/c).

"Tell you what, how about I tell you those after dinner. Your father and big sister should be home soon." 2 out of 3 children whined, her middle son had simply nodded. Though Sanabe looked just like his mother he idolized his father, so he was actually more mature than the other 2. "You two aren't hassling mom, are you?" Rin had approached from behind, hands on her hips and pouting. She had grown into a beautiful young woman; she made the early years of parenting so much easier. Sanabe had looked to his older sister and smiled slightly, he tried to be stoic but in reality, he was just shy and putting up a front. "Hello Rin, I take it things went well?" Rin had gone to gather some stuff from the forest while Sesshomaru cleared the demons out from the forest around their home, he did it every so often to try and ensure their safety. "Yeah, I got a bunch of herbs and wild fruits. Lord Sesshomaru went to your room to take off his armor."

(Y/n) listened and moved to stand, giving the girl a smile. "Wonderful, why don't you three help Rin bring in the pouches. Perhaps we can use some of those fruits for tonight's dessert." The mention of a sweet treat had the three gone, making Rin giggle and go to make sure they didn't mess anything up. (Y/n) proceeded to the room she shared with her husband, finding him in just his hakama as he was about to put on the top. "Hello, my love, I take it the forest is safe now? The children wish to visit the waterfall." She closed the door behind her, moving to help him place his top on. It was not that she had to, but between them it was like subtle affection. He could be somewhat affectionate behind closed doors, out in the open he displayed his love in ways some might miss. But she never did. "We can take them tomorrow morning, it's been some time since you all have gone swimming." He always went with them, even if he didn't get in the water he'd sit at the edge and watch over them. He may not have been the most adoring husband outwardly, but his family always knew that they were loved.

#candy cult vault #sesshomaru #lord sesshoumaru #x reader #fem reader #Sesshomaru x reader #Sesshomaru x fem reader #inuyasha

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beenbaanbuun · 2 months

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Hey bunny! I'm back at it with my brainrot XD this time the trope is brother's best friend but the subject is still Kang Yeosang cuz I'm obsessed with him and the anti delulu meds didn't work 😮‍💨🫠🫠

I think this is the result of reading too many teacher/personal tutor yuyu fics + seeing posts about how our slow boy is actually hella smart, but can you imagine bratty MC and brother's best friend Yeosang (the brother in question being San or Yunho) who's known all over campus and your neighbourhood as being this sweet lil angel boy.... but who has been an absolute MENACE to you since you were kids?

Not in a harsh way cuz I don't think our boy is capable of that, but he's so indifferent and blunt? Barely pays you any mind at all and when he does it's this clipped, measured politeness?? Which is so unfair because he's beautiful and you've had a crush on him since forever???

Honestly it's more your fault than his that you're always so angry at him, but it makes you snappish and bratty just to try and push his buttons, but he never seems phased, always responds in a cool levelheaded way that's kinda hot and makes you even MORE pissed

So when you're failing math and your oh so wonderful brother decides to volunteer his only number literate friend as a tutor? And for some reason that friend says yes??

I can't finish these thoughts cuz I have a dinner to get to but yeah! Hope you have a good day bunny! Thank you so much for blessing us with all the incredible content that you do, make sure to get some rest and stay hydrated while you're at it <33

~Lyra

no bc i love this so much!!! just reader being bratty and then yeosang being all nonchalant about it AHDKSGDJSV ITS SO GOOD!!!!

but i feel like yeosang would be patient to a degree. like sure, he’s chill and cool about it usually but if you push his buttons too far he just snaps and you don’t expect it at all.

“can you focus?” he grumbles as he tried to find the relevant page in the text book. you’ve been watching the way his hands move over the pages for the best part of 5 minutes now, not taking in a single word he has to say. sure you’ve been listening, kind of, but that’s just so you can hear his deep voice in your ear - no other reason, “i’m not here for fun, y’know…”

you can’t help but scoff because of course not. why would he be here for fun? honestly, you have a hard time working out why he’s here at all, especially when he’s not getting paid for it.

“well, it’s not like you ever focus on what i have to say,” you spit back at him as you put your pen down defiantly. he doesn’t say anything or even acknowledge it, which only serves to drive your frustration up even higher. it’s not like you need a tutor anyway. sure, you’re failing, but you don’t see why that means yeosang had to be called in to help.

“maybe say something worth listening to,” he says, voice as calm as always, “now pick up your pen and work through these logarithmic functions for me.”

years ago you probably would’ve jumped at the thought of doing anything ‘for him’. what with his stupidly pretty face attached to that stupidly muscular body, and his irresistibly deep voice that only seems to come out with irritatingly quick quips. he was the only man to exist in your eyes, and perhaps he still would be if he weren’t so annoying. always so polite with you like you couldn’t see him being so free with other people. never responding to your jokes or rising to your teasing. it’s like he wants nothing to do with you, and you hate it.

in fact, you hate a lot of things, like the fact that you love a man who clearly wants nothing to do with you, or the fact that everything he does regarding you pisses you off. you hate that you can’t seem to shed your feelings of affection and lust towards him despite his apparent distaste of you.

but more than anything, you hate the fact that he’s tutoring you, and for some reason he’s doing it for free.

you sigh and try your hardest to brush away your annoyance. if he’s going to be here, you may as well make him pay, right? maybe if you push his buttons enough he’ll decide he doesn’t want to come back.

“i don’t want to,” you push your pen further onto the page with a shit-eating grin, “so you’re going to have to make me.”

you watch him as he mumbles something under his breath, eyes rolling into his skull in annoyance, and you can’t deny that it feels good to finally get a rise out of him.

“i’ll tell yunho you’re not being cooperative,” he threatens. you shrug your shoulders.

“and what’s he going to do?” you reply, “find me a different tutor? i doubt it,” you smirk and lean in close, “you’re the only one willing to do this for free.”

at this, he closes his eyes and puts his own pen down. you almost cry out in victory when he rubs at his face in frustration, a small groan leaving his lips when he pulls them away again.

“believe me, sangie,” you say in the most sickly sweet tone you can muster, “nothing you can do is going to make me cooperate.”

he turns his head in one shaky motion, and he looks at you properly for the first time since entering your house. he’s pretty as always, but you can hardly take the time to study him when he’s looking at your like he’s a predator about to pounce. his eyes are icy cold as he runs them up and down your body. his jaw is clenched as his gaze finally settles on your face, and you have to admit that the quiet boy has suddenly got very intimidating. you shrink back into your seat.

“fine then,” he says through gritted teeth, “either you do this, or i’ll have to find some other way to teach you a lesson.” now it’s his turn to lean in close. his elbows find purchase on his knees as he lowers his face to yours. you can feel the way his breath brushes against your exposed collarbones, and you hope to anything out there that he doesn’t see the way it sends a shiver down your spine, “don’t think i don’t notice the way you look at me, little girl. i’ve seen you staring at my hands. i know you’ve been daydreaming about me, hm?”

in the blink of an eye, he traps you. with one hand on one of your chair’s arm rests, he spins it until you’re facing him fully. his own rolls forwards until his thigh’s sit either side of yours. you blink at him, all wide eyed and confused. he just smirks at you.

“i’ve seen what you’ve been doing all these years,” a hand drops to your thigh, rubbing gently up and down against the skin that your short skirt - that you’d worn for no reason… no reason at all - had left exposed, “teasing me, trying to get me to drop my act and finally do what we’ve both been craving for so long. i’ve always kept to my lane for the sake of yunho, but i don’t think i can anymore.”

you whimper when he moves his face in close to yours, lips barely brushing up against yours. he smiles, nipping at your bottom lip gently.

“not when you so clearly need to be taught a lesson…”

#ateez x reader #ateez hard hours #ateez smut #ateez hard thoughts #yeosang hard thoughts #yeosang hard hours #yeosang smut #yeosang x reader

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ruershrimo · 2 months

Text

take me back (take me with you) | f. megumi x fem! reader | chapter 2: stasis

ao3 link for additional author’s notes | playlist | prev | next

chapter synopsis:

'So let’s just talk again, I guess. Let’s just exchange contacts and chat on the phone and talk about books. I’ve been reading a lot of books about dogs and I’ve so much to tell you. Nothing else has to happen or change; we can act like there was never a barrier between the two of us in the first place. I really miss you.

Let’s just be friends again.

Please?'

---

You're growing, your parents are getting older, and you and Megumi are drifting apart like old seams of clothes being torn the more they're used.

You also discover something new about yourself— leave it to your parents to explain it.

word count: ~8k; tws: mild “gore” that may not even count as gore (a really tiny wound)

2-4-2010

It’s 2010 and your teacher introduces you in front of a previously bustling class turned silent by her (and your) arrival. There’s the chill of spring entering from the slightly opened windows and into your nose and, as desks flank either of your sides before you scrounge for and reach an empty seat. When you sit down you can sense the light graze of spring wind settling itself on your tiny trembling lips and you feel like hiding under the table while your teacher erases your name, written in cloudy white chalk, from the blackboard.

When lunchtime barges in and your classmates sit on each others’ tables or excitedly rummage through their backpacks, you mumble out unnoticed greetings, invitations for connection falling on deaf little ears. There are so many people here, too many for your liking, with voices that accumulate until they make a cacophony reaching the highest heights a tiny, packed classroom of kids can. Of course, they’d start the year with their own friends— there wasn’t much you could do to introduce yourself, anyway, when all of them were off to their own devices in friend groups they were in before the third grade.

In front of you: a girl with brown twintails and a flower hair clip sits on another girl’s dress, while another girl stands there with a cartoon-themed t-shirt layered over long sleeves; on your left: a boy flipping one of those flat, white erasers and playing them with his friends (you wonder if in terms of quality those erasers are actually good for school); on your right: a boy sitting with his head resting against his palms, sitting as if his chair is a hammock, and he’s talking to two other boys about something indiscernible that you probably know less than nothing about. All the way from across the classroom: a boy with the longest black eyelashes you’ve seen, hunched over and engrossed in a book with a title that you don’t know how to read the kanji of yet.

It’s so loud and your senses feel inundated suddenly, like a tiny glass cup about to overflow— so much to hear, so much to see. Your head and the way you think turns their laughter into wails drowning your ears in an inescapable ocean with the most torrential of currents. But you want to go home. You want to be with both your mum and dad again.

You eat from the bento your mother made for you, your hand holding the container up and drenched in cold sweat as you compress and close in on yourself. This new school and classroom is so very, very loud, relentlessly so, and Tokyo is not a pleasant place at all. You’re sure you don’t like it, that you want every chance to leave.

After school your mother takes you to the playground nearby, probably to placate you and shush your cries as you ramble on and on about how much you want to go back to your old school. You have her hand in a vice grip (or at least, you try to, but the strength of an eight-year-old who struggles on the monkey bars doesn’t account for much) as she repeats that it’ll just be for a year, and that if you really wanted to she would let you call them on the telephone later or give you a handphone of your own to talk to them once you’d got older. You wonder why she wouldn’t just give you one now, though.

When the two of you reach the playground she says, no doubt exasperated but still enduring it at all from how the tone of her voice is, “See, darling? Look at the slide! You love slides, don’t you? See? They’ve got swings too, even!” And with a face blotched with tears and hiccups rapidly spilling out of you, you waddle over to the park.

There’s a girl over there, by the swings, long brown hair pulled back into a pretty high ponytail, with an equally pretty white-collared navy blue dress. Probably around your age, or slightly older— she seems quite tall, too; has the friendliest-looking brown eyes you’ve ever seen, those types of brown eyes a person has that make their eyes shine like gold when they smile or when the sunlight hits them; a red ribbon on her hair tie that matches the strawberry hue of her backpack.

Then a boy next to her, and this one you know: long, raven eyelashes that look even longer up-close; spiky hair sprouting out in all directions; green, green eyes that take you by force and bring you into reminisces of fields of grassy gardens in the summertime, pure viridian in his irises as they stare back at you, quiet and observant. The same boy hunching into his book earlier, probably a really smart kid, probably someone you want to make a new friend of if you ever knew just how to.

Were they siblings? Friends? You weren’t sure, but tears were still running down your cheeks as you processed all that information and silently thought to yourself about them, these two strangers, these two kids who could be friends if not for your touch-me-not-plant-like shyness.

“Hey, hey! Why’re you crying? Are you okay?” the girl asks.

(And the rest was history, but you’d still like to tell it anyway.)

She heads over to you, her pleasant expression contorted into one rife with worry, and your mother smiles, letting out a relieved sigh. The girl pats your back and it’s the warmest touch you’ve felt since you arrived in Tokyo, her hand feeling like home or your old bed from before you moved; you almost melt in it the same way ice cubes do in hot chocolate. “Aw, it’s okay,” she coos, awfully gentle, managing this strangely comforting tone for a child your age or maybe just a year older, “You’ll be okay.”

You start bawling again when she says that for a reason you can’t tell yet; it’s just so comforting, the way she rubs strokes across your back with her palm and tells you it’s okay. It feels like a promise. It feels like she’ll keep it.

When everything’s calmed down and you feel a bit light-headed from crying so much, and the hiccups have been smoothed over by longer, calmer and steadier breaths, she guides you to sit down on one of the swings, your hand in hers. “Are you okay now?” she questions. The boy seems slightly concerned, but perhaps too hesitant to communicate with you, instead seeming perfectly comfortable with watching you and following behind her, becoming the girl’s shadow.

“Uh huh,” you sniffle. You still want to go home, though.

“That’s good,” she smiles, and it really is pretty and pleasant. Her smile isn’t just an ordinary one: it’s one of those smiles that gleam like the sun or candles flickering at midnight; it’s the type to have that glimmer in it, that twinkle in her brown, almond-hued eyes that solidifies itself in some comfortable nook or cranny in a person’s memories forever, the type that you can just think of when things aren’t going well and suddenly you can tell yourself you’ll be alright because somehow you now know you can. Because somehow that kind of smile grants people the ability to keep going.

“I’m Tsumiki,” she introduces herself, “And this is my little brother Megumi. What’s yours?”

Tsumiki, you think to yourself, Tsumiki and Megumi. Tsumiki and Megumi. They’re nice names. First Tsumiki, with the ‘tsu–’ produced by back of the teeth and the tip of the tongue, the ‘–mi–’ carrying the voice over to the lips, the ‘–ki–’ light and brisk with the back of the tongue and the roof of the mouth; second Megumi, ‘–me–’, ‘–gu–’ and ‘–mi–’ a quick ride from the lips to the tongue against the roof of the mouth and back, something soft and sweet and quick and quiet about the name.

“[Name],” you mumble, eyes moving all over the two of them indecisively— maybe your mother was right when she tried to force the impeccably useful skill of using eye contact onto you for situations just like these, “Tsumiki, Megumi, can… can we be friends?”

“Sure!”

Tsumiki and Megumi, you think again, Friends.

8-4-2010

It seems that, at his sister’s behest, Megumi makes an effort to interact with you more or at least look out for you in school— reluctantly, though, and that’s how you know this must be Tsumiki’s doing. He doesn’t talk to you between lessons, uttering not one word to you in class, but he does direct you to different places at school if you seem like you want to go somewhere, but are too scared to ask, leaving your anxious face as the only clue for others who take notice of you.

There was one time, before meeting Tsumiki and walking to the playground together with Megumi in tow and after a particularly riveting lesson from one of your favourite teachers— a young woman with glasses and silky brown hair in a bob— when you’d wanted to go to the library, yet didn’t know how. In your mind you merely contemplated whether you should ask anyone you saw, or whether you should wait for the sake of keeping your mind at rest.

Once Megumi saw you, eyes wandering aimlessly outside an empty classroom as you tapped your foot louder than you thought you were, merely scowled.

“Hey.”

“Huh? O-oh, hello.”

He sighed exasperatedly, almost too grumpy for an eight year old— “What is it? What do you need to find?”

“T-the library,” you stammered, hands pulling the fabric of your clothes into tight fists, “It’s okay! I’ll find it myself—”

Suddenly something pulled you forward, like a still-damp shirt on a clothing line, and he dragged you along. Your footsteps stumbled behind him until you matched his pace, his hand lightly squeezing your wrist as he continued to walk.

“Wha—?”

“I’m taking you there,” he said, “Just pay attention to the route.”

“T-thank you,” you stuttered, unsure of what to say.

So you saw the way your footsteps echoed behind his, his right followed by your right and his left followed by your left. You followed him through the hallway, then down the stairs until it was you and him on the ground floor, and the cherry blossoms were raining down like snowflakes. You didn’t see his face and he didn’t turn back to face you until you arrived.

Back then you didn’t know why that made you feel a little sad.

“We’re here,” he signified with a finger pointed to the library door. You thanked him again and promptly entered through the large glass door, using all the force your limbs could muster, only to find out that the door being opened was a feat only accomplished by the force of your arms combined with his own, too. “What?” he asked pointedly after noticing your glances at him, “I’ve to come along too.”

And soon it became just that. In your own silly little tradition, you’d stand outside the classroom and wait for him at the end of the day, and the two of you would walk with zero words exchanged until you got to the library and picked out a book each. You’ve found that Megumi likes to read long-winded books about anything and everything— especially about animals; you’ve learned that there exists no one who adores dogs and animals related to them except for him— besides the same fantastical creatures and adventures that you enjoy reading about, with kanji on their covers that you can’t read.

But he’s always the same every day: frowning and rolling his eyes at your anxiety-induced antics or your curiosity over what he reads. You don’t think he actually means it— he still does the same for you, spending time with you in the library every day, and even though he seems to huff whenever you peek at what he’s reading and ask him how to read the kanji in his books, he’ll still teach you anyway. It’s not like Tsumiki seems to know either. She still encourages the two of you to get along as if you don’t know each other at all.

9-6-2010

The first and only time you see Megumi smile, you know it isn’t intentional. As if it just slipped out of him on accident without him realising, because you know hundred per-cent, even at your age, that someone like Megumi would never smile on purpose.

It goes like this: the day before Tsumiki’s ninth birthday, Megumi approaches you after class before you go outside to wait for him.

These days you feel like you’re opening up so quickly, it makes you feel giddy at times. You stutter less, you can speak a little louder, and you can even read through texts in class when you’re called to without stumbling through and accidentally blabbering about whatever you’d read before.

“I don’t think we should go to the library today,” he says.

“Huh— why? I don’t want to walk home on my own…”

“Just because we aren’t going to the library doesn’t mean that you’ve to walk home alone,” he sighs, “I need you to come to our house. We’ve to prepare for Tsumiki’s birthday since she’ll be coming back later today.”

“...”

“You never asked when her birthday was?” he asks, his tone the embodiment of an audible facepalm.

You suppose you didn’t, because you don’t know, or perhaps you’ve asked, been so absent-minded you’d forgotten what she’d told you, and eventually forgot you’d even asked her in the first place.

“...oh, no!” you shudder, “Today’s her birthday?!”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s tomorrow. It’s just that we should start preparing early if we want to keep it as a surprise for her.”

“Ohh…”

“...so? Can you come along today and tomorrow?”

You pause. Your mother would be fine, right? She’d probably ask how many adults there were, but then again, even if their benefactor wasn’t there, she’d met Tsumiki and Megumi at least once or twice. Even for children your age she’d know that they were trustworthy enough, so it should be fine. You’ll just ask her the next day anyway. She’d probably let you be there.

“Of course!” you tell him.

The path to his house stretches over concrete sidewalks and compact alleys filled to the brim with storefront signs. Temperatures have started to rise, and your switching from knee-high socks and cardigans to t-shirts and socks that only reach your ankles have been an indicator of that. Summer has started to bring in its breezes which blow like whispers against your ear, leaving warmth crawling and blooming across your skin.

When you reach the crossing, your legs continue to carry you forward before you stop to check the traffic light, you crash against Megumi’s back.

“—gah!”

“Hey!” he goes, “It hasn’t turned green yet! Be careful!”

He pulls you forward by the hand until you’re by his right, and squeezes your hand. “...you should stay next to me instead of staying behind so that you can still see.”

“You’re not blocking me, though?”

“...but it’s still better if you’re walking next to me instead.” He turns his head away from where you can still see his face. He looks like a sea urchin.

“Okay.”

Hand in hand, the two of you cross the road right when the light changes from red to green. You don’t let go of his hand, even when you’re turning to the left, or on a crossing again, or when you’re standing right in front of the door.

You’re sure that if you would ask him why he hasn’t let go of it, he would say that he was doing so deliberately just so you wouldn’t get run over or lost, but you’re also worried that if you did, he would somehow realise that he hadn’t let go of his hand all this time on accident. And you like holding his hand— it’s not like when you’re holding your mother’s, when suddenly her hand grows dead on you and you have to hold her sleeve or her arm instead, or when you used to hold your father’s and it would get unpleasantly sweaty. It’s warm, and even if your palms must be balmy at this point you don’t think either of you mind that in particular.

A part of you thinks it must be embarrassing for him to be holding a girl’s hand, especially with how being teased for being friends with boys is all too familiar for you. You were your father’s daughter, after all, and at times your father could be insufferable in that way, even over the phone calls you and your mother had recently had over him. For some reason, he’d be fine if you mentioned Tsumiki, but as soon as it was Megumi he’d giggle and talk about you being “so young and already having a boyfriend!” That saddened you more than it was supposed to, sometimes; it was as if he thought you couldn’t have a boy as a friend without wanting to marry him when you were older.

But you’ll be selfish. You don’t really want to let go, because it’s not like you’ve held a friend since more than a year ago, anyway. You keep his hand in yours and squeeze it every once in a while, feeling the warmth spread across the back of your hand and your fingertips.

He only lets go of your hand when you begin to bake the cake, and he flips the cookbook to a recipe for strawberry cake. Whenever you come across something in the recipe that you don’t understand, he’s reading it for you straight away. He even knows how to decrease the amount of each ingredient that you use so the cake can come out to be just enough for everyone, and when you’re in awe of how smart he is, he just turns his head away somewhat bashfully and says he’s doing it according to the ratio. You don’t even know what that is.

At the same time you make your own additions to the recipe based on what you know from your mother— a little more vanilla extract, slightly less icing sugar so that it doesn’t end up too sweet when paired with the cake. There isn’t any strawberry extract in their house so you make do with just strawberry puree alone.

The sight of him wearing oven mitts and holding the cake mould as you’re opening an oven about the size of his torso must almost be comical. You should’ve got parental supervision, but he seems fine, and you are too. Initially you’d offered to be the one placing the cake in the oven, but Megumi insisted on doing it when you tried to open it and immediately turned away after the heat of it rushed right before your face like a cat dumped in water.

For two eight year olds with limited baking experience, you’d say the cake turned out well, and that it’s amazing how none of you have any burns or have caused any accidents. It’s warm when he takes it out and you leave it out to chill by the time Tsumiki is supposed to be coming back. You feel a bit guilty over leaving her alone, but you try to reign it in and tell yourself that this is a surprise for her, and that it’ll only last for two days: this one and the next.

When it’s laid out on the table and the scent of it wafts through the air, there’s a satisfied grin on his face. You’re supposed to be taking the icing out of the fridge, know it must have been one that he’d shown on accident, because it’s there for just that one second, but the fact that it was there at all, even if he thinks that you probably won’t be able to see it, is something you’d never imagine.

And his smile, that grin— it looked like one of those smiles that spread to the people around them like the scent of fresh flowers in a new vase. That smile was a bouquet of flowers

With a spatula, the two of you take turns slathering the icing around the now less warm cake. It smells so sweet and tasty that you feel you won’t be able to sleep tonight from how excited you are for the celebration tomorrow.

“Yay!” you say, clapping your hands when it’s all done, “We’re done!”

“Now we can just put it in a container in the fridge so that she won’t find it,” he says, “We should put the tray back, though. We usually don’t keep ours in the oven.”

Maybe it’s because you’re sleepy from how much time you’ve spent solely on baking in the last two hours, or maybe it’s because you’re absent-minded as usual, but your first response is to grab the still scalding hot tray from the oven.

You burn the tip of your finger before he can react and stop you.

“Ow!” you wince.

“You burned your hand?” he rushes to pull you— he pulls you a lot, it seems- to the sink and runs your finger through lukewarm water before blowing it and chiding you. “Be careful!” he scolds, “Even if you can’t help it sometimes you need to think before you do things. Don’t act recklessly like that!”

“Sorry,” you say. It didn’t hurt that bad, though. What feels worse is how worried he is about this despite how aloof he typically seems. “I’m okay, though. It’s just a small burn.”

“It’s still a burn,” he shoots back.

“…sorry.”

He keeps the oven open to release the heat from it, and places the cake in the container.

“You know, Megumi,” you start, “You’re really amazing.”

He pauses for a while, but continues to place it in the container. You make a mental note to buy candles or get any leftovers from home if your mother allows it.

“At first I thought you were scary, but after getting to know you for a while you’re a really nice person. You teach me even if I’m probably really annoying or a bother sometimes, and on the street just now you let me hold your hand even if it must have been really embarrassing for you. And even when we were baking, when you did that number to number thing to tell how much of everything you needed— you’re really smart, you know! And every time you’re with me, and even with other people, you’re really caring without saying it. So even if you seem scary or bad-tempered you’re actually really nice,” you smile, “You’re really good! Every time you’re there I think: ‘Megumi’s really cool!’ So I hope you can be my friend forever!”

“…thanks.”

He whispers something else that fails to fall on your ears.

“Hm? What’d you say?”

“Nothing.”

After Tsumiki arrives back, the three of you spend the evening watching TV together. Fortunately, summer’s waves of rain haven’t started coming in yet, so the satellite wasn’t messed up and the three of you got to watch them interrupted, huddled together on the sofa.

Your mother smiles that night when you tell her you were spending time with your friends, but grimaces once you tell her that it was just you and Megumi for a while. When she and you are on the phone with your father, she frowns even more.

You recount the details to him: the strawberry cake, the cartoons on the TV, the cosy compact couch they have in their house.

“So it was just you and Megumi alone? Aw, you’re too young for dating, sweetie, you should be doing those things your daddy before you go around doing them boys! And with just him, too!” you think that’s supposed to be a joke, but you feel offended regardless despite not knowing why. It could be because you don’t like his teasing, or because you can make friends without the intent of marrying them, or because he’s insinuating that you’d rather watch TV and bake cakes with some boyfriend than with your own flesh and blood— you probably would prefer doing that with Megumi instead of him, though. Less annoying and way more fun.

“No, no, no! We were just baking a cake for Tsumiki!”

“Oh, leave her alone, darling,” your mother says as if sighing knowingly, but the frown on her face indicates otherwise, “She’s just a child, still, nothing will happen. Let our baby make some friends, won’t you?”

You don’t understand why they’re saying anything they’re saying, but you shrug it off and continue to talk to your father anyway.

Thankfully, the burn on your hand has disappeared, though. You’re surprised it went away so speedily.

10-6-2010

Her birthday goes like this: there are decorations dangling from the ceiling of their house and a party hat on her head (courtesy of their benefactor and his “work friends”), while their benefactor has a party horn squeezed tightly between his lips and a digital camera in his hands. He’s invited some of his friends, too: a lady with brown hair, concerningly dark eyebrows and a mole by her right eye, and a tall, muscular man with blonde hair and a white suit donned who seems just as annoyed with the white-haired man as Megumi always is.

They’re singing her happy birthday, and she’s over the moon. When they get to “...happy birthday, dear Tsumiki…—” the grin she has on her face is something for the ages: you’ve never seen anyone look happier than she is right now. The candles flicker as she claps their hands, dancing along to the cacophony of voices singing even one of the simplest songs unsynchronised and out of tune, dancing along with it just because she seems to be on cloud nine.

It’s dark outside, the yawn you let out gets you bleary-eyed and you’re quite sure all six of your voices combined sounds awful, but everything feels so unimaginably warm.

It’s beautiful. The sight in front of you is pure joy.

“Make a wish, Tsumiki!” you tell her before she blows out the candles, and a faint line of smoke dissipates through the air right after the candles go out and everyone’s clapping.

The tenth of June, 2010, Tsumiki’s ninth birthday is a great day, and one of the happiest days of your life. It stays that way forever.

30-6-2015

Your phone whines in your pocket like a crying baby. There’s a book shop you want to head to, and you’ve decided that after that you’re going to let the bed mattress cradle you to sleep as you’ll flip through some pages of that new shoujo manga you bought the other day. You’ve decided that’s a swell plan for the day: you’ll mostly be free today, after all. But you rush to pick up the phone, even though the ring had made your nerves spin giddily and switch courses from calmness to anticipation.

The screen displays an unknown contact.

Although your mother was always adamant on her stance on what you should do with unknown contacts buzzing your phone, you pick it up. You can only hope, yet the mere image of that “unknown contact” icon on the screen fills you with joy.

“Hello?” a voice calls from the line. Despite everything, these things will always belong to her and her only— that voice, that smile, that beautiful kindness.

“Tsumiki!”

“[Name]!”

Missing loved ones from far away works in mysterious ways— people know they miss them, but often people haven’t a clue about what of them they missed or why they would have missed them so much for those things. And you were no exception to this, because you never realised how lovely her voice was or just how much you missed it.

You miss Megumi’s voice, too— or perhaps his tone when he spoke to you. Even if it sounded rough around the edges sometimes, really it was as gentle as he was. You’re not sure if it’s changed, though, or if he’s grown a foot or two (though the latter would make him out to be really tall). The last time you saw him in person, he was slightly scrawny and around the same height you were, and that was four years ago when you were nine. Now he’s thirteen, and you’ve seen the thirteen-year-olds in your school and on the island. Everyone’s growing in one way or another. Even you.

Would he be taller now, towering over you, perhaps? Would he have grown out of how he was before, a body composed of long, skinny joints and bones? You think he’d be tall. You think he’d have a nice voice. And maybe, just maybe, if he was a little softer now, you’d have a crush on someone you thought you’d long got over.

“Oh my god— I haven’t heard your voice in ages!”

“Me neither! Never realised how much I missed talking to you in person. Well, I guess this brings us one step closer.”

You nod over the phone. The line seems to be lagging behind a little. “Mhm”

“—Oh, it’s [Name]! Want to talk to her—?”

“Ah! Is… is Megumi there, too?” You hope he is, you genuinely do.”

“I’m sorry, but he isn’t…”

You guess it must have been someone else talking to her, then.

But— if it weren’t someone else, why would he not want to talk to you? Of course, you have to believe that he wouldn’t, but what if he wanted to avoid you?

Had you done anything wrong, said anything wrong in your letters and emails?

If you’d seen him again, would you do the same? Because it’s silly, really, how he was technically your ‘first love’ before you realised it, but you admitted nothing, acted on nothing, trying to make fragile proof or something to stick it to your father in the way eight-year-old you thought you could. You’d probably do the same now. Perhaps because of your age or your immaturity, you’re overly prideful in that sense, because telling people you love them is like cutting the skin off an onion— it’s okay, though, you’re only thirteen. That happened years ago and you should probably just move on; you know you can. You don’t have to act on anything and you’ll keep things that way.

(You should probably stop being over in your head like this.)

At least now you know he isn’t a bad father, never was; he was just a man in a world where they don’t know girls can live without a constant desire for marriage or romance encroaching upon their conscience. And even for a man, he isn’t so bad to his daughter, you think. Now, you know how to draw conclusions like that.

You don’t really know anything. You don’t really know anything at all. So you shove it aside, that overthinking, and talk to your friend like a normal thirteen-year-old.

And he probably doesn’t care about you anymore, either. (But if he did, what caused him to stop? He was so caring so was it just you?—)

It’s okay, you can live without him anyway.

“That aside, how is everything?”

23-11-2010

“Megumi, I think we should exchange books,” you suggest as the two of you make the daily walk to the classroom. You catch up to him now, legs meeting his pace, not something he has to stop and turn behind to glance at before turning his head forward again. “My mummy said it could help. She said it’s good if we read more books from other genres.” (You feel like patting yourself on the back for knowing how to use a word like ‘genres’.)

“We like completely different books,” he says, “You’d get bored really quickly with mine.”

“I mean, if it’s something interesting, I won’t.” And even if you didn’t know the kanji in them, you’d just ask him. “...when have I ever found the stuff you read boring?” you add, to prove a point.

“Yesterday,” he states, “You picked my book up, flipped one page over, then slid it to me over the table surface.”

“But that was because I couldn’t read it!” you retort childishly, “If I can’t read it now, I’ll search it up, or I’ll ask you. If you don’t mind.”

“Fine,” he acquiesces.

“And just so you know, the teacher said I was getting better at reading kanji, and I do think that the stuff you read is nice sometimes.”

“So, what book are you giving me?” he asks, trying to force the library door open on his own. You add your own weight to it as usual and soon the two of you are walking to the same corner you always do. In spite of the school library’s relatively small size, it was a treasure trove of fantasy and reality alike. Students at the high school nearby would go there just to study, and the sight of them hunched over the tables while snoring was one you witnessed every day.

“The same one I finished reading yesterday,” you reply. That book became a favourite of yours. It entailed a young girl learning that she was actually a witch, and one of the adventures that followed that, namely one with a wizard who she’d fallen in love with. Fortunately, your mother didn’t know of the story— if your father was in the house and saw you reading it, he’d tease you endlessly. “I’ll return it first, though. Then you can borrow it again. What about you? What’ll you give me?”

“A book about dogs.”

“I should have expected that.”

12-12-2015

“Are you that excited for Christmas, sweetie?” your father asks as you hang ornaments on the tree. He’d assigned that task to you this year, saying neither he or your mother could bend their backs and legs so much anymore. And he was correct: they seemed to become weaker and more brittle with each year. Eye bags and wrinkles piled under his eyes like stacks of paper to the point that he had to quit doing work so often, and the number of times your mother had to go to the hospital in six months had gone from one to five. They’d started to talk about dying even if they were far from it in your eyes. They’d just need some medicine and a trip to the doctor— they’d be alright in the end like always. Right?

“Mhm!” you answer jubilantly, “I think talking to Tsumiki again did me good, heh.”

“I’m glad,” he smiles, walking over to you, “Need any help?”

“No, I’ll be okay— you should go and rest,” you advise him.

He shakes his head, “I’ll be okay if it’s just for a while, you know that for me it usually isn’t that bad. I can still do things like this as long as I’m not tired.”

“Daddy, your eye bags make you look like a panda.”

“Wow, okay,” he says, sarcastically, “Can’t believe my baby girl doesn’t love me anymore.”

You drop one of them by accident and it falls pathetically, the glitter on it spreading across the floor. “Wait, sorry, let me get that real quick—”

Although you rush to tell him not to, he bends down to retrieve it, and as he gets up he winces and has to support his back with once-strong hands. He’s withering away, slipping like dust blown away from his old table back in your grandparents’ house.

You’re scrambling to help him up, to scrunch your brows in worry and ask if he’s okay, but because you forget to move your hand away, your elbow smacks against his head.

“—Ow!”

“Ack! Daddy, sorry, Daddy, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Are you okay, sweetie?”

You feel yourself twist in guilt. How could you have ever felt annoyed by this man in the past?

22-12-2015

You don’t know what brings you to do it. Maybe it’s the fact that it’s his birthday and you’ve only been able to wish him via asking Tsumiki to send him your regards, or because you’re feeling sentimental and remembering Christmas five years ago in Tokyo, but you write a letter addressed to Fushiguro Megumi on a chilly Tuesday that you don’t have the intent to send. Or maybe you just don’t want to yet.

Dear Fushiguro Megumi,

I don’t really know why I’m writing this to you. Maybe I’m desperate for some kind of romance so I’m writing this to turn my thirteen year old self into a shoujo manga protagonist (I feel like you’d cringe at that, sorry).

But I’ll write it anyway. I really liked you but I didn’t really notice it— well, more like I didn’t want to admit it. My dad was being a little annoying about it and that was probably young me’s way of giving him this big middle finger but I won’t really go into it. He’s pretty okay about all of this now, and these days I can bear with him a little better too. (Hopefully that’s how things are for you and your benefactor, too— he always seemed more like a father anyway, even if he was always there. Would that be too presumptuous of me to say?)

Still. I used to really, really like you. I don’t know if I still would if I met you again, but hey. We should try it, meeting each other another time. I really want to see you again.

I still think you were really cool. I bet you’d still be so now. Taller, too. (More handsome if you’re fine with me saying that, but maybe that could just be attributed to being part and parcel of one’s physical growth? Truly, I don’t quite know.)

I know you probably never felt the same, but I thought I should just let you know. YOLO, am I right? I’m, like, living life to the fullest with no regrets right now.

I know how much of a burden I was, how annoying I must have been. But I guess because of that I know how caring you can be. So I’ll always be thinking, ‘Megumi is really, really cool!’ when I’m reminded of you.

I don’t know why you don’t want to talk to me anymore— maybe you’ve given up on me, and I get that. Whatever it is, though, I know it would be valid, even if sometimes the fact we stopped talking in the first place makes me feel a little hurt. Because I know it’s my fault too, since I was too scared then to talk to you.

So let’s just talk again, I guess. Let’s just exchange contacts and chat on the phone and talk about books. I’ve been reading a lot of books about dogs and I’ve so much to tell you. Nothing else has to happen or change; we can act like there was never a barrier between the two of us in the first place. I really miss you.

Let’s just be friends again.

Please?

28-12-2015

“We’re not going to be here forever, you know,” your mother says as if she’s about to drop dead at any moment. She’s not and you can’t bring yourself to fathom it. So you won’t.

Your mother is amazing— she cooked for you, comforted you, tried her best to raise you properly and lovingly even if she hadn’t been herself. She made sure you never slept hungry and tried her best to make you think you were the most beautiful girl in the world no matter what others said, even if in the end she couldn’t. She held your hand even if in the end you stopped clinging to hers as you grew. She did the chores even if her body was falling apart and deteriorating like yellow paper.

You don’t think you could ever handle having to do that even if it was for your own children. You don’t think you could ever be her.

It had always been a bit of a curse that your mother had you a little late. She said you were supposed to have an older sibling once, one that she couldn’t carry to term. So that’s why you were born, and born a bit later in their lives; that’s why you were their cherished baby girl.

So you try, you’ve been trying, to be of use. To be the medicine that ameliorates their headaches and backaches and joint pains. You help out with the chores even if you seldom talk to your mother these days; you listen as your father regales you about (mostly fake) stories from his youth if it helps him feel better. Because if not for you, your mother would have less wrinkles on her face; if not for you, your father would be less hellbent on working to provide for his family.

“…mhm.”

“I think that you should know something, though. I just… I don’t want to die, darling, but I think I will. So I feel like I should tell you this,” your mother begins, “Honey, let’s… let’s tell her about it.”

There’s something eerily calm in the depressing air your father casts over himself as your mother says this.

“Okay,” your father agrees.

Your mother starts first, “Do you remember seeing that weird sunglasses-wearing, white-haired man?”

“Oh. The… the benefactor? What about him?”

“Well, for starters, he’s not just some weird guy. That man’s name is Gojo Satoru,” she states, “He’s a jujutsu sorcerer, like me.”

“Oh… okay, but… um. What? I thought you were a doctor. Are you two like Harry Potter…?”

“No, we’re— um, do you remember seeing that dog?”

“The one with the red markings?”

“Yes. The thing is, normal people can’t see things like that dog. But people like you, your mother and I can,” your father explains.

“So we have superpowers, or something?”

Your mother smiles and she looks younger, happier. “Something like that. There’s something called cursed energy and most people have it. It’s formed from negative emotions, and the people who have more than the average person can see cursed spirits— the creatures manifested from leaked out and fermented cursed energy, who jujutsu sorcerers basically try to get rid of before they cause normal people who can’t see them any harm. —Oh, goodness, I feel like an encyclopaedia.”

“So the dog was a… ‘cursed spirit’?” you wonder, “It sounds like we’re in a shounen manga.”

“No, the dog was a shikigami.”

“Wait— those things are real?”

“But it was your friend Megumi's shikigami, specifically. Some jujutsu sorcerers can summon simple shikigami. Those were ones generated from his cursed technique, though,” your father clarifies, “Most jujutsu sorcerers have cursed techniques, which is when they channel cursed energy into their own ‘powers’. People who don’t have cursed techniques like your mother—”

“You’re going like a bullet train. My brain’s getting pulverised. Please slow down,” you say, “So he has a cursed technique, and mummy doesn’t have one. Do I have one?”

“That’s what we were worried about,” he starts, “When you were born, neither of us wanted you to get into that life. So we moved to the countryside, specifically places with little to no cursed spirits. Then when you got older we figured we should just check if you could see them in general, but nothing happened except for when you saw that dog. We think you’re a window, though. Someone who isn’t a jujutsu sorcerer, with no technique but the ability to see curses anyway.”

“But you think I do, now?”

“No. We just wanted you to know about all this. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you.”

“No, no, it’s fine— nothing happened because of it. I just never knew, but I guess I do now. So you were a jujutsu sorcerer?”

“He was,” your mother answers, “Technically, he’s already quit due to health complications. But your father’s been saving a lot, and it’s not like jujutsu sorcerers have a meagre pay…”

“We’re rich?”

“I mean… the stronger ones are loaded, but we still have enough money to last us for a while without working,” your father says, “But I have a cursed technique and so I was a sorcerer last time, so I’d always be working away from home before I took the shinkansen back. The year you were in Tokyo, I was working with a team of other sorcerers to eliminate groups of curses spread all over Japan. Then when we found out you could see them, we just decided to go back to the countryside. But now we know we can’t keep you out of the city forever— we know how much you love it, and we love our girl. So we needed to tell you about this.”

Your mother sighs, “We’re sorry again that we never told you any of this. We just wanted to keep you safe.”

“Okay. It’s okay, you don’t have to apologise. I mean, I don’t really want to die either, even if it means saving people and things like that. There’s probably other ways to save people. Plus I’m probably a window like what you and daddy said.”

“Thank goodness,” your father smiles, “I’ve lived through it and… well, Daddy doesn’t want that either.”

“Neither do I,” your mother says.

You don’t want to be a jujutsu sorcerer. The thought of people walking into that world, of children being born into it, of people like your father, kind people walking to death every day.

You think it must be the ones in power— they don’t seem to care; how could they if they’d just let fates like that befall your father?

And Megumi, Megumi— Megumi, the guy you haven’t talked to in years, walked into it. He sought to protect you first; told you there were monsters and warned you to be careful.

Just how much of a burden were you then?

That’s the first thought that crosses your mind. Because there’s never been a time you weren’t a burden, not to your friends and never to your family, and thinking that Fushiguro Megumi would care anymore, for you, was beyond reality.

20-12-2015

Your father’s cursed technique is called cell manipulation.

“It’s a pain to use, but I’d say it’s always been quite powerful,” he explains on one of the days he’s teaching you about the jujutsu world, “Like the name says, I can control cells. But I have to imagine things really vividly, down to a cellular level, and put lots of cursed energy into picturing how exactly you want the cells to shift and change.”

“So… just the cells? Can you do anything more than that?”

“Just the cells,” he says, “At least, that’s what I think. But I suppose that makes it liable to entities who have cells that can go against my cursed technique, or can control their own bodies at a subcellular level. Who knows, really…” There’s a hint of sadness underneath his tone.

“D’you think you’ll ever use it again, then?”

“Maybe. But I’m definitely not planning to,” he tells you, saying it with conviction that’s stark against that soft, weary voice he has so often nowadays, “I don’t want you to use it either. I’ve never wanted you to have it. If you did, everyone would be telling you to walk into death willingly, every single day. Everyone would ask you to be useful. I’ve already told you so many times that I don’t want that for you. I can still do some simple things with minimal effort, though. Want me to show you?”

You don’t understand why he’d have make himself “useful”— he’s always been, he’s your father after all. He doesn’t have to do anything else, doesn’t have to prove anything to add meaning or worth to his existence. Truthfully the one who has to be useful is you; you have to be a better daughter, a more helpful one; you have to be a better friend and a better person.

You smile, “Okay. But just a little.”

He holds out his hand, displaying his palm. It’s slightly wrinkled, littered with old calluses like mildew on leaves that you never knew the true stories behind. Sights such as these remind you of his age, who he’s speeding to fifty before he may even see you reach your twenties. “You see how my hand’s like this, right?”

You nod your head.

“So, what I can do is imagine—” he starts, closing his eyes, “And this happens.” There’s a rift that’s forming slowly in his hands like the land giving way to sprouting volcanoes, before scarlet blood is pouring out of his hand.

“Gah! No, no, it’s okay, you don’t have to show me any more—!”

The wound closes up and he opens his eyes once more. “See? Good as new,” he grins, “It’s much harder when it’s not used against humans, though. You don’t always know the cell structure of other cursed spirits, so they have to be studied like Pokemon. And if those cursed spirits aren’t the same,” he goes, immediately turning grim again, “You’ll have to use it on yourself. That means that every time you use it, one mistake could cost your entire life.”

You can’t imagine it: that for years when you were living carefreely, thinking your father was off at a hospital or a clinic, spending his time examining tongues with popsicles or holding stethoscopes to chests and stomachs— he was, in truth, risking his life; about to be the cause of his death at any moment. And for what? For money? To save others’ lives? For you?

The notion itself is terrifying.

“Then I think we’re the same,” you say, “Because I don’t want you using that either.”

1-4-2016

The last time you and Megumi uttered a single word to each other was five years ago.

You haven’t talked to Megumi in a long time, but you call Tsumiki whenever either of you are available. That about sums things up. But every once in a while you and Tsumiki— just Tsumiki— hold your phones next to your heads as you chat and gossip about your days and the people and events in them, crossing your legs as you’re sitting on the bed or doing chores as you secure the phone between your shoulder and ear.

Last year you’d learned a few things: school eats away at your life like a parasitic fungus, you’re someone who can see monsters that rarely even live where you do anyway, and that even if you’ve finally the maturity to admit that you may have loved someone, you won’t act on anything if you’re sure what you’ll face is either rejection or anything but reciprocation.

At least you can still live your life. At least your parents are still here, thank goodness.

“Tsumiki, I’m serious. ”

“But I really think you should! You can’t just tell me that and expect me not to react like this!”

“Honestly, Tsumiki…” you start, “I haven’t talked to Megumi in years. I can’t just. Ask him to talk to me again, you know.”

“Still, you said you liked him! Megumi! My little brother! And he said he wouldn’t mind seeing you again, too!”

“I don’t know, I just. I felt silly so I thought of telling you. If you told him now it wouldn’t change anything. And I think he’s avoiding me. I think he’s been avoiding me for a while.”

“I know, but… sometimes when he does this to other people, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to talk to them. He’s just… what’s the word, emotionally constipated? He’s like that.”

She sounds so excited over the phone.

“I’ll just pass that old letter to him and nothing will happen. Then I’ll live my life peacefully and I probably won’t ever see him again.”

“...I honestly think that if you did that he’d just try to find you again.”

Yeah, right, you think to yourself.

taglist:

@bakananya, @sindulgent666, @shartnart1, @lolmais, @mechalily, @pweewee, @notsaelty, @nattisbored

(please send an ask/state in the notes if you’d like to join! if I can't tag your username properly, I've written it in italics. so sorry for any trouble!)

#sorry for the long wait :)#for the ao3 readers chapter four is coming soon!! I’ll try my best to finish it by tomorrow #take me back (take me with you)#jjk megumi #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #megumi fushiguro #megumi #fushiguro megumi #megumi fluff #megumi angst #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk x fem!reader #fem!reader #ruer writes #megumi x reader

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demonslayedher · 3 months

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Not-very-spoilery thoughts on the movie release of Pillar Training (+SSV conclusion)

Behind a cut anyway just in case!

--Very nice to hear familiar background music brought back--Yuukaku themes when Uzui & his wives appear, Mitsuri's "Koi Kogare" BGM when she has a good batch of lines, Giyuu's BGM as he's like, "bye"

--I am very happy with the new OP, both sound and imagery-wise.

--One very short clip in particular made me, a fanfic writer, very very happy, but then there was more gratuitous focus that reminded me of another one of my best fanfics. The rewards of writing fic as closely based on canon as I could get them gives me the satisfaction of feel liking like canon-based imagery honors my fics by extension.

--Speaking of imagery in general, Ufotable is finding lots of ways to try to harp on the idea that everyone's wishes to destroy demons find their accumulation in Tanjiro, the Sun Breath user and first person in centuries to unlock the Mark. It is perhaps a little clumsy at times, but hey, that's a theme I like in this series.

--I was sad that Suma sounded so different, and had to look up afterward if she still had the same seiyuu. She does, but I think they might have given her totally different vocal direction so that she wouldn't sound too similar to Mitsuri

--Japanese crowds tend to be very quiet at movie theaters, but people could not contain their giggles at many of Mitsuri's lines

--I had the honor of sitting next to a huuuuuuuge fangirl who before the moving was saying stuff to her friends like, "(Hanae) Natsuki-san was at USJ the other day, and since it's a VR ride, you know, you have to wear the goggles, and I think, what if I wear the pair that he wore??? You know?? Our faces??? Would be so close?????" and then at the review of previous seasons at the beginning of the show, she started crying the instant the Mugen Ressha part started. Not loud crying, but crying.

--You can tell everyone was waiting for the "welcome back" scene, and although I thought Zenitsu would steal the show in that scene, it was indeed Nezuko. In the seiyuu greeting that was broadcast across all Japanese theaters on the opening day, Shimono-san noted that he thinks the audio was turned down on his performance of that scene. I think it was probably was too.

--So much happy daily life in this episode. If you have any friends who complained about last year's theater showing being a let-down because it was just regular anime episodes instead of a Mugen Train style movie, please tell them to just sit this one out and spare us their complaints. Most of this showing was just Tanjiro having a nice time after having a panic attack over Nezuko (oh, and like, killing Upper Moon Four, that too).

--Shinobu's hair seems distinctly longer. Giyuu's hair seems distinctly fluffier.

--Ufotable has put a lot of touches into humanizing Amane

--I wish Ufotable would stop trying to drive the "Zenitsu thinks Aoi is happy to see him (just because Aoi is a girl)" point. First off, yes, Zenitsu being a creep to girls is played up a bit in the anime. Second, the first fanbook states that the only kind of girl who is not so much his type is the Aoi-type.

--Also, on the promo art, I like the design they gave Shinobu's sword, but that's ignoring the fact that the four engraved kanji characters are on either side. Go ahead, Ufotable, hire me as your canon double-checker. EDIT: Oh wait, that is its sheath. Lovely, carry on.

--That said, the original filler they gave us? Gold star. Excellent. So happy with it. One... well, two tiny nitpicks that don't bother me much but stating it here would spoil it.

--One more non-spoilery thing to say about that filler: the people at Ufotable were probably like, "our fans are nerds. We already give them this, this, this, and that to nerd over. You know what else they are probably nerds for? Yeah. Let's give them that." Thank you, Ufotable. This nerd accepts and loved it.

--Tiny Nezuko filler as they set the stage talking about Muzan is probably looking for her? LOVE THAT TOUCH, at every level.

--Shinobu does have multiple goldfish, but they look a bit different?

--Genya's makes the best face in this whole episode

--Speaking of Genya, in the seiyuu greeting they had actors in big chibi costumes of the Kamaboko gang come out... PLUS GENYA. Giant chibi grumpy Genya was so, so, so, so freaking cute. Also, his seiyuu Okamoto got to join the stage with everybody and was talking about how he always used to scroll through his social media seeing the other seiyuu at KnY events and he was like, "sigh... sure looks like everyone is having fun..."

--Hanae Natsuki and his wife are big Genya fans, though, it seems

--Okamoto had a lot of trouble performing young Genya in the flashback, especially the emotional screaming. The desperation Genya always displays as he fights? That was Okamoto. --Meanwhile, Matsuoka always looks very overwhelmed at these things. I think having to embody the spirit of Inosuke terrifies him.

--IT WAS SO GOOD TO HEAR INOSUKE AGAIN

--Those actors in chibi costumes? The Zenitsu and Inosuke ones embodied them SO WELL. I don't usually care for those giant mascot character costumes, but these were legit so much fun to watch, like with Inosuke going right up into the cameras and Zenitsu trying to pull him back and then the two of them pushing and shoving. Zenitsu acting like he is being bullied and Inosuke showing off his muscles. I loved them. I am very sad that I will not be in town when they travel across Japan and come to my area.

--Also, the baritone voice of Oyakata-sama's personal crow? LOVED IT.

--Himejima at the the Pillar Meeting is such a statement. The new promotional material has a tag line that prominently uses one of the kanji in his name ("cry out"), and I feel like this is set-up for him to have a lot of impact later on in this season. Here's hoping!

--I am probably gonna go watch it again in a couple weeks, ufufufu

--Which is worth it for that KIZUNA NO KISEKI REMIX WHICH SOUNDED SO COOL IN SURROUND SOUND, OH MY GOSH

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jelly-of-many-ships · 7 months

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COMPLETE OFMD S2 CONTENT LIST:

To anyone looking for a complete list of trailers, vids, and photos released for OFMD season 2, here ya go.

(I’m not rly active on anything other than tumblr rn so i’m sry if I missed smth)

! LINKS CONTAIN SPOILERS !

So, first of all we have the official teaser trailer, released on August 30th: TEASER LINK

On September 14th we finally got the full length trailer. I’m assuming we’ve all seen these already: TRAILER LINK

There was a promo vid containing new s2 scenes that some people were getting on their TVs and recording and uploading to twitter. What some people don’t know is that that the official OFMD facebook account recently uploaded the same promo thats actually good quality and not just recording off a tv screen. Anyways if there’s a scene you’ve been seeing but it wasn’t in the trailer or teaser, its probably here: PROMO VID LINK

Here’s the links to some of those twitter vids if you don’t know what i’m talking about: twitter vid, twitter vid, These have the same content as the facebook link, just shitty quality.

Oh also Vico Ortez (plays Jim) posts a lot of s2 things on their tiktok. Nothing with spoilers just BTS (not the k-pop band I swear to god) I guess this doesn’t count but some of it’s rly funny: Vico Ortez tiktok

PHOTOS:

The first batch of season 2 photos we got were from Vanity fair on august 24th, but those photos plus a bunch of others are now available together somewhere i’ll say in a sec. Here is the article that showed us the first look at s2: VANITY FAIR ARTICLE

So, warner bros discovery gave us an *almost* complete collection of currently released photos. This does include the vanity fair photos but most of these you can’t find anywhere else. they say which episode every photo is from and let you download them too which is pretty cool. The site also has some great articles in the media releases section but they’re not that relevant. Go to the images section to see the s2 pics: S2 PHOTO COLLECTION

The final thing I found was the exclusive photo “The Streamr” posted on twitter. In fact there’s this whole thing happening with the OFMD twitter fandom and The Streamr and apparently they’ve posted exclusive photos that aren’t in the Warner Bros collection. Once again I am not actively on twitter so I don’t really know that much. I was only able to find one exclusive image posted by them but if there are any more please let me know. THE STREAMR EXCLUSIVE PHOTO

EDIT: found another photo on twitter! YET ANOTHER EXCLUSIVE PHOTO

EDIT: There’s a S2 behind the scenes vid from the max YouTube channel and it’s got so many extra clips it’s practically a third trailer!!! Also apparently there are some more articles that just released and I’m a bit busy rn but I’ll find and add them soon behind the scenes vid

EDIT: OMG THE MAX YOUTUBE CHANNEL POSTED A SCENE FROM EPISODE 1 AND IZZYS CRYING AND THE CREW IS COMFORTING HIM ITS CANON S2E1 SCENE

that is all that I personally know of but if there is anything else you think should be included please add it or lmk, I want this to be a complete list. If anything new comes out I will try my best to add that as well.

I was pretty confused where everyone was getting all the s2 info and I couldn’t find a complete list anywhere so I decided to make my own. hope this cleared it up for anyone else🤗

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larkspyrr · 6 months

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chapter iv — i'll use you as a focal point (wc. 5k)

prev — masterlist / ao3 — next

reblogs are appreciated!

You groaned, a noise that you were fairly certain rose from the very depths of hell itself to give life to your marrow-deep exhaustion.

From somewhere to your right, you could hear the duke laugh, a sound distinctly shit-eating. He then leaned over you and into your line of sight, causing you to squint to try and make out his face against the backdrop of the obnoxiously bright golden skylight far above.

"How you doing down there?" he asked, a smug, gleeful grin to match his laughter tugging at each corner of his mouth.

You grimaced by way of an answer.

Wriothesley reached his hand down to you, looking more chipper than he had any right to. You fought back the urge to slap it away in a petty display of childishness which the only remaining functional portion of your brain recognized was undeserved, no matter how many spars he had won in the last two hours. However, it turns out the majority of your muscles no longer quite wanted to respond to your mental commands, so you accepted the lift, letting your palm fall heavily into his grip. He pulled you up roughly; his warm, calloused hand tight around yours as you stumbled back onto your feet. He took a second to make sure your balance had fully returned before he released you.

"That was invigorating," he said, breathless and windswept in an infuriatingly charming sort of way. The man was not nearly as affected by exertion as he should have been — according to you, anyway. You were certain you hadn't been that much of a pushover. "Well done."

You grunted, surely the very picture of nobility, silently preening at the praise you hadn't known you'd been hoping for. Every fiber of your body felt like frayed thread — but your mind was buzzy and alive.

Everything about the ring was as exciting as it was new. You'd been taken to the limits of your abilities and then ushered past the threshold, again and again, but you'd loved every moment of it; every loss, every clip you weren't able to dodge in time, every rare instance where you were able to clip Wriothesley right back.

There was something electrifying about exchanging blows, trying to anticipate your partner's next move whilst planning your own. About testing the boundaries of your abilities, your strength and dexterity, about making decisions in less time than it took to blink. It dug its fingers into you, created a hunger that you'd never experienced before, something primal and unfiltered and thrilling.

Suddenly, you were in perfect understanding as to how the Pankration Ring had become such a staple for the residents of the Fortress. You were fairly certain you now had a better understanding of the duke himself, too, having seen how he teaches — thorough and patient and kind — and, maybe more importantly, having seen how he fights — with power and grace and dignity and a ferocity that might have frightened you if you'd never seen the warmth he kept safely hidden behind his cool facade.

Boxing went against everything you'd ever learned at every ball and in every etiquette class and at every overstated, vacuous dining table — it was brutal and untamed and utterly lacking the propriety you'd learned to wear like armor, as though your composure was all you'd need in order to weather a world that wanted only to see you fail. It awakened an instinct that you had never been allowed to even acknowledge, let alone encouraged to follow. It stripped you down, scrubbed you raw, and then built you back up again, shiny and new.

You couldn't wait to come back.

Instead of giving voice to any of that — you had a reputation to uphold, after all — you opted to exhale roughly, shaking out a foot. "I can't feel my legs."

"Good," Wriothesley chirped merrily, slapping you on the shoulder. You gasped, pitching forward. The duke's eyes wrinkled at the corners, watching you straighten and shoot him the dirtiest look you could muster. "And don't try to fool me — I can tell you loved it. Now go shower and get your fancy stuff back on. I'm starving. To death, in fact."

You sighed but obeyed, your soul answering to the promise of a cool shower and hot food. Stretching your overtaxed limbs, you made your way back to the locker room, Molly trailing swiftly behind, chattering away at a mile a minute, seemingly almost as energized as the duke after your series of bouts. She was carrying your dress in her hands, freshly laundered and folded and smelling far too lovely for it to belong anywhere near a prison, let alone a boxing ring.

"And you were just wonderful," Molly was saying, smiling widely. "Frankly, I know you're no stranger to sparring with Miss Clorinde, but that was always with swords so I didn't have high expectations for you when it came to boxing."

You huffed. "Wow. Thanks," you drawled.

"Oh, don't be that way, miss, you know what I meant," she said easily, a lazy wave of one of her hands. She nearly dropped your dress onto the locker room floor but saved it with a wobbly oof, slapping her free hand back under the neat pile. She trotted on, unaffected. "I can't be blamed for having doubts! Besides, you blew me away."

You breathed a laugh. "I didn't win even once, Molly," you told her, untying your boots.

"Not today!" she gushed, nearly bouncing on her feet. "But His Grace has been doing this for years and you still managed to keep up, even if you didn't win! I wager it's only a matter of time before your training sessions are more evenly matched."

You smiled, a hopeful little flicker of pride settling in your chest.

A quick shower, a rote redressing, and a tidal wave of chatter later, you reemerged from the locker room, looking and smelling fresh, hoping that the stiffness in your limbs wouldn't betray your secret training session from behind the haze of lavender-scented detergent. You'd had Molly's help putting yourself back together and she had given her seal of approval, so you couldn't have looked too worse for wear.

The duke turned away from the ring, fastening the usual gloves back onto his scarred hands, eyes meeting yours. He grinned, wide and wolfish. He had changed into a fresh suit, dark and grayscale like his usual, burgundy tie once more secured around his neck, dangling pointlessly and crookedly in front of an indecently undone series of buttons. An unprofessional and deliberate stylistic choice for sure, dishevelment juxtaposed by all the accoutrements you'd associate with a man in his position, in a way which was clearly meant to illustrate his status while still embodying the spirit of rebellion. You had respect for that. So much that was familiar to you, reimagined to suit his own desires. You were positive it must piss Thibeault off to no end. You were jealous of the debonair audacity. Maybe even a little appreciative.

From an aesthetic standpoint, at least, you were certainly... appreciative.

You shook your head, banishing that particular train of thought.

"You two hungry?" he asked, offering his arm to you. Woefully, it was once again concealed behind his shirt sleeves.

You shook your head again for good measure. Clearly the first had not been powerful enough.

"Naturally," you said, twining your arm with his. "You also promised me tea."

"A woman after my own heart," he said in a conspiratorial undertone to Molly. She giggled. "Let's all depart then. I know just the place. Even if it is the only place. You remember the Coupon Cafeteria, don't you?"

"Victory has put you in a good mood."

"I'm always in a good mood."

Side by side, you made your way back through the halls surrounding the Pankration Ring to the elevator, ascending from the deepest depths back to the main level. Once on the administrative floor, the familiar hustle and bustle continued on, the heart of the underwater city beating as strongly as ever. Weaving between the milling crowds of people, arm-in-arm, you couldn't help but notice the number of surreptitious glances and hushed words exchanged as you passed. Wriothesley had been right about the gossiping, that much was clear. You wondered if it would make its way to the surface as quickly as he seemed to think it would. You hoped it got up to Thibeault and soured the milk in his tea.

There was a pause in the clamor of the cafeteria as you entered, bread and drinks frozen halfway up to agape mouths, eyes wide and watchful. You saw a tomato slide out of someone's sandwich and onto the brass of their bench. He seemed not to even notice himself.

"Wolsey?" Wriothesley called, leaning forward into the kiosk to search for the man in question, either oblivious to the scrutiny, unaffected by it, or very good at appearing unaffected. You could hear the distant clanging of metal and raucous laughter from somewhere deep in the kitchen. After a moment, Wolsey ducked beneath the row of hanging pots and pans separating the kitchen and kiosk to stand behind the counter, a harried smile on his kindly, weathered face.

"Ah, Your Grace," he said, dipping his head in greeting. "I received your request this morning for the meals — I've prepared something I think you'll all like. Should only take a few minutes to finish up."

"Wonderful," said the duke with a gracious nod. "Thanks, Wolsey."

Wolsey disappeared back into the depths of the kitchen, the clanging picking up twofold. Wriothesley guided you away to a table at the edge of the cafe seating area, pulling out one of the rickety iron chairs with a theatrical flourish.

"My lady," he said in an imperious tone, bending into a deep bow, peering at you from beneath a dark, raised brow. His lips quirked at the corner.

You rolled your eyes at his display, but took the offered seat, settling in and fanning out your dress around you. You shot him a look. "You're enjoying this far too much." Wriothesley winked at you and pulled out a chair for Molly as well, who flustered at his courtesy, waving her hands.

"Oh, thank you, Your Grace, but I was just about to go summon the aquabus back for my lady and me," she said apologetically. This was news to you. You raised a scrutinizing eyebrow which she pointedly ignored.

Wriothesley, oblivious to her shenanigans, smiled warmly at her. "Ah, I see. Thank you, Molly."

"Of course, Your Grace," she said with a tiny curtsy and a wicked little smile in your direction. Traitor. "Enjoy your meal, you two!"

"Dinner for two?" he said as she scurried away into the crowd. "How utterly scandalous."

"And specially requested meals, at that," you quipped. "I'm flattered. You spoil me."

"Anything for my intended. This is one of the many perks of the job," he responded easily, gesturing at the liveliness of the cafeteria. "No dental, though. And as for the food, I... uh..." His face scrunched. "I make a point of preparing my own meals unless I'm able to tell Wolsey in advance that I'm coming."

You couldn't help but snicker. "That bad, huh?"

"Oh, you have no idea," he replied wearily, dropping into the seat across from you.

"They're happy to do anything for the darling of the Fortress, though, I'm sure," you said innocently, leaning back and letting your eyes scan over the massive room and its vibrant array of occupants. "I've seen no fewer than two dozen people looking at you with stars in their eyes since we left the elevator. And that's just since the elevator. We've only made it about, oh, a hundred yards or so."

He scoffed. "Please," he said. "That's rich, coming from the belle of the ball. I'm frankly surprised anyone would believe that you'd ever choose a delinquent like me. Even I didn't think you'd give me the time of day," he said, a playful smile on his face as his eyes flicked from where your hands folded in front of you to your face. "No matter how handsome and charming I am. You could have anyone you want when you're finally ready to settle down and start a family."

You shook your head. "No, I told you I'm not concerned with anything like that," you said quickly. "Starting a family is not in my plans. Now or ever."

His eyebrows narrowed. "You're serious?" he asked. "Ever? Even after you've become a Champion Duelist?"

After, you noted, a sharp pang resonating behind your ribs. Not if.

You cleared your throat. "Nah," you said, trying your best to sound casual and not at all touched. You cringed inwardly at the unnatural way the word sounded, grating like a tin can down a gutter. "My aspirations would conflict with familial responsibilities and I need to be able to focus all my efforts on my work," you explained. "I just... it wouldn't be fair to anyone to ask them to sacrifice their future for me. I will take care of my family now so that I won't have to feel guilty for focusing on my future afterwards."

He frowned, deep in thought. "Well, I don't know if that's strictly true," he argued. "You should never feel guilty for having dreams or for pursuing them. A future can be shared, you know?"

Your swallowed, your stomach in a knot. "Well, what about you?" you asked lightly, intent on turning the conversation away from you. Evidently it worked, as Wriothesley looked briefly startled by the abrupt pivot. "Does the illustrious Duke of Meropide ever plan on settling down?"

Wriothesley looked like he was seeing something far away, carefully swirling his drink while he thought. "Maybe," he said finally. "Not in the immediate future, but someday, yeah. I'd like to."

You sat back against your chair once you realized how far forward you had been leaning. The extra space made it easier to think. "Really?" you asked. "You didn't strike me as the type."

Wriothesley laughed but the sound was brittle and half-hearted. "What 'type' did I strike you as then?" He shrugged. "I guess I'd just like to have the family I never had. With the right person, of course," he amended quickly. "I don't want to be rushed into the decision, as the court would like me to be."

You look at him for a long moment. Understanding... recognition flared inside you. "I know what you mean," you said softly

He scratched at the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Sorry, didn't mean to get too heavy on you there. Go ahead. You can call me a romantic fool."

Your brows knitted together and you shook your head. "I don't think wanting to have a family makes you a fool, Wriothesley. Not at all. I'm confident you're a fool for other reasons," you teased with a gentle smile, "but not this one. I think it's a nice desire to have. I hope you find the right person one day."

"I... thank you," he said haltingly. The tips of his ears looked faintly tinted. He cleared his throat with a noncommittal wave of his hand, and he might as well have been dispersing any hint of vulnerability in the air as though it were a wisp of smoke. "Sadly, here my options are somewhat limited," he lamented with a melodramatic sigh, a clumsy but firm topic change of his own. "However... there is a very charming young man who works in PZ2 who's expressed interest. I believe he's in for tax evasion."

You held a dainty hand to your chest, gasping in delight. "So you have prospects after all!"

"Oh, I do," he said, raising his chin haughtily. Amusement danced in his eyes. "As you observed, I'm very popular."

Wolsey approached your table as you laughed, dishes in hand, raising a scraggly, aged eyebrow at the baffling exchange before him. You recognized that it would appear, at best, odd to anyone not aware of the true nature of your relationship with Wriothesley, so you hoped Wolsey wasn't one to partake in the notorious Fortress gossip cycle. Wolsey shook his head wearily with a good-natured smile. One that said with no words, clear as day — kids these days. You hoped that was the green light that he wouldn't go poisoning your meticulously crafted well.

"Here you are," he said, placing a dish down before each of you. "Enjoy your dinner, Your Grace, my lady."

You both thanked him happily before digging into your meals.

You swallowed, eyes wide. "The inmates eat like this every day?" you asked, barely resisting the urge to shove more food into your mouth while you still spoke. It was phenomenal.

The duke snickered and for your life you couldn't understand what could possibly be so funny. "Archons, no. No. The welfare meals here are a bit of a... lottery system, so-to-speak."

"Hm?" You tilted your head, puzzled. "A... lottery?" you repeated. "Like gambling?"

"Yep," he said, popping the 'p', tossing another piece of his steak into his mouth. He proceeded to explain while chewing. "Exactly like gambling. We have several chefs on staff. Some of them are even inmates themselves. So let's just say, the type and quality of the meal depends upon whose you end up receiving. That's why I notified Wolsey in advance to ask him to make our meals himself."

You paused for a moment, letting his words sink in before throwing your head back in laughter. "A lottery," you wheezed, nearly choking on your food. "Oh, that's delightful. Probably cruel and unusual punishment, too, but delightful."

He beamed at you, eyes scanning over your face as you fought to regain your composure through fits of giggles. "If anyone asks," he said, blue eyes alight with mischief. "I didn't say a word. It would be bad for kitchen morale."

You snorted. "Perish the thought. Far be it from me to damage kitchen morale."

You were wrapping up dinner when a young man approached the pair of you, looking for all the world like he'd prefer to be anywhere else. He was thin, wearing the standard inmate overalls and an uneasy expression beneath a mop of sandy hair. He twiddled his thumbs in front of him as he waited for Wriothesley to notice him. You couldn't help but wonder how old the kid was. He couldn't have yet been out of his teens.

Wriothesley trailed off as he noticed the new spectator to your conversation.

"Your Grace?" the boy said at last. "Might I have a word?"

Wriothesley smiled tightly, placing his fork back down onto his empty plate. "George. Of course," he said to the boy who exhaled with palpable relief. Wriothesley turned an apologetic look at you. "Please excuse me. Feel free to have a look around. This shouldn't be long."

"Of course. I'll be fine," you reassured. Wriothesley nodded gratefully and began walking with the boy to a quiet corner near the cafeteria, already speaking in hushed tones. Wolsey came over to clear the rest of the table, offering you a polite smile as he collected the empty dishes. You thanked him and made your way in the opposite direction from the duke to explore a bit more freely, side-stepping inmates and guards and doing your best to take it all in. You noticed nowhere near as many people paid you any mind while you walked alone, despite the fact that you stuck out like a sore thumb in your stiflingly formal attire.

"Hey, lady!"

Clearly you stood out more than you'd thought. You came to a stop so abrupt it felt like reaching the end of a chain tether. You turned your head to find the source of the call, but could see no one close enough to have been the owner of such a high-pitched, authoritative voice. You turned even further, confused, completing an entire circle in place like a music box ballerina.

"Oi, over here!" came the voice again, cutting through the pandemonium. "Whaddarya, blind?"

You rotated once more to the source, emanating from a stack of various storage boxes and cases tucked away between two huge pillars of bronze and iron. Your eyes had to fall a few feet short of the height you'd been expecting to find the culprit — a little girl, no older than ten, little fists firmly anchored on each hip. She looked at you, up and down and then back up again with judgemental, green eyes.

"I never seen you ‘round these parts before," she said. She lifted her chin at you. Ornery little thing.

Your lips twitched as you watched the kid size you up. You couldn't help but feel a surge of fondness for the defiant, precocious little gesture. "That would be because I've never been here before," you told her.

She blinked, head tilted. "You servin' time?" she asked gruffly.

"No, ma'am," you said, squatting down to get on her level. Your freshly laundered hem dragged into a murky little puddle and you immediately felt a streak of guilt as Molly's hard work was once again ruined. "Just visiting the duke."

She rose an eyebrow. "The duke?" she intoned disbelievingly. "You tellin' me you're friends with His Grace?"

You nodded, smiling. "That I am."

She gave you an odious look, turning her back on you to make her way back to her corner. "If you say so, lady," she called over her shoulder. As she reached the stack of boxes, she spun to face you again, folding her arms in front of her chest. There was a boy you hadn't noticed before now standing beside her. He looked at you shyly, eyes comically wide.

You laughed softly, straightening and walking to the pair of them, near what you now realized was a small fort built between the two stacks of boxes. "What are the two of you up to?" you asked, leaning down to peek beneath the tarp draped over the two kids. There were a bunch of small items lying in cluttered, well-loved disarray across a rumpled plaid blanket — toys, knickknacks, clothes, and a lantern. Pillows. A couple of stacks of books, some for kids, some looking far too advanced for children their age. A small stuffed duck, a hint of fluff poking out from a small rip in the seam of its beak. "Do you two live in there?"

"No," said the girl insolently, as though to ask such a thing was the most preposterous thing in the world. "We have a room with some of the other kids. This is just our castle."

"No one minds when we build the castle here." The boy didn't look up from his feet as he kicked them softly against the iron flooring. He nodded. "We were playing checkers."

"Oh, I love checkers," you said brightly, kneeling down again so you'd be able to meet their eyes on their own level. "Can I join? I'm afraid His Grace is a bit busy right now and I'd love to hear more about the Fortress."

She looked at you, expression a little too calculating for your comfort. "It'll cost ya," said the girl at last.

"Huh? To play checkers?" you asked, confused.

"Nah, lady. The intel," she corrected.

"Oh, I see," you said seriously. "What'll it cost me?"

She leveled you with an unimpressed stare. "What else?" she said. "Credit coupons."

You frowned. "I'm afraid I don't have any credit coupons. But I do have… let's see… I have..." you trailed off, searching your brain absolutely anything of use to the kid. You came up short. You currently had nothing except, quite literally, the dress on your back. "I don't have anything at all."

She harrumphed, putting her fists back on her hips. "Whatever then, we don't need any coupons. We'll give you the info on the house. Just put in a good word for us with His Grace."

You grinned. "Oh, absolutely. I can do that." You chuckled and introduced yourself. "What are your names?"

She sniffed. "I'm Paulette. He's Jean. We're twins."

You grinned. "It's very nice to meet you, Paulette and Jean." Your eyes scanned the room quickly, locating Wriothesley as he bid goodbye to the young man from before. "And I'm afraid it seems we are going to have to postpone our checkers game."

Paulette grunted. "Rain check, then. Jean's too easy to beat so I expect you to be a better opponent than him next time."

"Hey!" said Jean, offended.

"You bet," you said, straightening back up. You winked. "But I won't go easy on you. Take care, you two."

Paulette waved you off with a noncommittal hand as she and Jean ducked into their castle. You turned away to find Wriothesley already walking over to you from across the administrative floor, his hand rising to seize your attention, almost as though he was unaware of just how much he stood out from any crowd. You began to meet him in the middle, trying to avoid the dinner rush of people coming to and from the cafeteria in a chaotic shuffle.

You'd almost made it when you felt a sharp force colliding with your shoulder, sending you careening forward and into another man, cup of coffee knocked clean out of his hand and hurtling straight toward you.

In the split second before you realized the steaming hot beverage was about to scald the bare skin of your collar, you braced for impact, but it never came — at least, not like you'd expected. Instead, a cold, hard, coffee-colored mass slid harmlessly down the front of your dress, meeting with the floor and sliding smoothly away a few feet before coming to a stop.

The duke stood before you with a worried expression, hand outstretched, a tiny cloud of frost dancing between his extended fingers.

You gawked, gaze darting between his hand and the brown, misshapen ice on the ground several feet away. "Did that just freeze?" you asked at last.

He nodded, worry fading away into perplexity. "That's right."

You passed your hand through the cloud at his fingertips. Tiny flakes of snow clung to your skin before melting away, leaving no evidence they had ever been there at all. You felt a surge of sadness, but it was short-lived. Wriothesley flexed his fingers, a second, tiny blizzard coming into being between your hands. It swirled in and out of your fingers and curled around your wrist with a mind of its own. You marveled at the tiny phenomenon. "I didn't know you had a vision," you said quietly, eyes glued to his hands.

"I mean, I suppose it's not common knowledge," Wriothesley said. "But it isn't a secret, either."

"Huh," you said intelligently as the rest of the blizzard faded away. You looked at him, scanning his vest and belt. "Where do you wear it?"

"Back of my coat," he said, turning just enough so you could see the glittering blue ornament hanging from the back of his left shoulder. "Have for a while now."

A puzzle piece clicked into place in your mind and you brightened with understanding. "That's why your back felt so cold at the ball," you gasped. "My hand was freezing."

"That... sounds about right," he said, smiling sheepishly. "Look, I'm sorry. We're going to have cut our date a little short today. Something's come up that can't wait."

"Oh. I see," you said, vaguely disappointed but unable to pinpoint exactly why. "Rain check on the tea, then? I was looking forward to it, you know."

He shook his head, smiling in a way that looked almost awed. "You really are something," he said. "But yes, next time. I have a blend with your name on it."

"I hear you've been rather busy," came a voice from the shadows in your foyer.

You sighed, letting your front door close behind you. You told Molly she could retire for the night with a tired smile — she nodded and excused herself.

"Clorinde," you said wearily, by way of greeting. "I was wondering when I'd see you."

"Honestly? I made the trip over as soon as Navia gave me ‘the latest gossip'," she quipped, stepping into the light of the foyer so you could see her scrutinizing gaze more clearly. She did not look impressed. "Duke Wriothesley?" she asked flatly. "Seriously? Since when have you been interested in marriage?"

You sighed, acknowledging to yourself that this conversation was always going to be unavoidable. You'd known Clorinde for years — long enough not only to be familiar with her persistence, but also her discretion. You trusted her. "I'm still not interested in marriage."

She narrowed her eyes, coming to a stop in front of you and crossing her arms. "And so the rumors are...?"

"Intentional," you said slowly with a pointed look. "We agreed on a ruse to keep suitors off my back, and as for him... he has his own reasons."

"The threat to the Fortress' autonomy," Clorinde supplied, and it wasn't a question. You raised an eyebrow. She sighed. "Why is it always a scheme with you? What if you ever want to be with someone in earnest?"

"I won't. I can't afford distractions. That would be a distraction."

Clorinde's eyes were sad as she regarded you. "That's not necessarily true."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" you gritted. "It is true. I've seen what happens to every other girl like me when she shackles herself like that. I can't allow that to happen to me and I won't... entangle myself with someone and not be able to give them what they deserve."

"And so to avoid such an awful fate, you are what? Taking tea with the duke?"

"No," you snapped haughtily before exhaling. Brushed the dust off your skirts. You tilted your chin upward. "We're training as well." You shifted your weight awkwardly. "We... haven't gotten to the tea yet."

She shook her head, eyes wide. "Forget tea, training? You're boxing?"

You scowled. "How did you know that?"

"His Grace and I are acquainted," she said shortly. "You realize how many ways this could go wrong, right?"

"The only ways it could go wrong is if we were found out or one of us developed feelings for the other," you said, nodding primly. "And I can promise you, we are at risk of neither. This is a mutually beneficial arrangement."

Clorinde looked thoroughly skeptical. Her violet eyes glimmered in the dim light. "Famous last words."

Your frown deepened. "Enough. I have it under control. Is there something I can do for you, Clorinde? Or are you just here to interrogate me?"

"Just to interrogate you. Tonight, anyway," she said casually. And just like that, the tension dissipated. She strutted towards the door but paused before she reached it. She glanced at you from over her shoulder. "Training session this week?"

"Sure, yeah," you said, exhaling in relief. "Yeah. I will see you then."

"See you then," she said. She chewed on her bottom lip, not yet turning back away. "And uh, hey. Just one more thing."

You were quiet. Clorinde's eyes drifted somewhere off to the side, not looking at anything specific.

Her gaze flicked back to you. "Be careful, okay?"

Your cocked your head. "What do you mean?"

Her lips pulled into a thin line. "Just... take care of yourself," she said. "Don't get hurt. And try not to hurt him either, okay?"

You looked at her for a long moment. "Sounds like you aren't just acquainted. How well do you two know each other?"

"I'm allowed to have other friends," she said pleasantly. "Just please. Promise me, okay?"

You couldn't help but feel... off-balance. What she was asking was so simple but felt as loaded as her gun, carrying unspoken truths and a sense of foreboding you couldn't dismiss. She stared at you, her dark gaze earnest and not unkind. Nothing about Clorinde was ever unkind.

"I..." you started, unsteady. "Yeah. Yes, of course, Clorinde. I don't plan to hurt him. Or be hurt."

"Good. Thank you," she said. "That's all I can ask. Good night."

You smiled softly. "Good night."

She returned your smile and nodded, finally slipping out of the door and disappearing into the dark.

She was silent, but the door shutting behind her was louder than you ever remembered it being.

a/n: haha heyyy sorry this was so late but thanks everyone for being understanding about the delay. we been going through it at work but it'll hopefully even out in a few weeks

i hope all wriothesley wanters are or will be wriothesley havers <3

#wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wrio #wrio x reader #genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin imagines #reader inserts #reader insert #lark.writes #🌊

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