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hannie-dul-set · 9 months

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HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS [3].

SYNOPSIS. wherein your friend offers a room for you to crash in while your dorm is being renovated, but fails to mention that your new housemates don’t know how to talk to women (oh, and they also have an ongoing bet about you, too).

PAIRINGS. choi soobin, choi beomgyu, lee heeseung, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, park sunghoon x female! reader. GENRE. housemates! au, rom-com, sitcom, reverse harem time baby. WARNINGS. mild terrorization, sunghoon has a mental breakdown, beomgyu thinks shoulders are inappropriate, swearing. WORD COUNT. 3.2k.

TAGLIST. @cerealdreamwriter @tyongff-ff @dinonuguaegi @certifiedmoa @blueberrgyuu0 @primantha @blu3bell4 @nunugget @hoshi-is-ult-bbg @captivq @tocupid @seosalad @ddazed-lhs @gyuszie @mifuyuyo @error-cant-function @twocupsofsuga @flowerbe0m @dangerousconnoisseurbanana

NOTE. i like to call this the sunghoon chapter. the rest of the boys will get their own chapters too in the future, pls tell me who your favorite boy is so far 😔.

MASTERLIST | NEXT >

CHAPTER 3 — it takes a lemon related accident to get a man to talk.

TODAY IS THE DAY YOU FINALLY FIND OUT WHAT PARK SUNGHOON’S FUCKING DEAL IS. You can only go on for so long of nothing but ominous eye contact and two-worded conversations before you start considering manslaughter (three weeks). You’re going to make him tell you what his goddamned problem is within today even if he ends up punching you in the face (because he always looks like he’s on the brink of doing that, anyway).

The first step to this operation is observation. You have been discreetly watching him this past week, taking note of his daily routine and there are two notable things that you have discovered— one, he leaves his room every single day at three in the afternoon, and two, he returns home at nine in the evening. That’s enough information for you to work with. You have this thing in the bag.

Your next step is preparing for battle. By one in the afternoon, you’ve already showered, blow dried your hair, and dressed in the prettiest outfit you quickly pulled from your closet (a nice chiffon maxi skirt paired with a lacy camisole because nothing lowers a man’s guard better than bare shoulders). You even put on makeup today. If this plan ends up being a failure, you’re going to kill Sunghoon and then yourself.

“You look pretty today,” Jay informs you when you invade his room for the sole purpose of having an outfit check in front of his full-length mirror. “I mean, you’re always pretty. It’s just you’re even prettier today. Like when even though you always make rose tteokbokki for your friends everyday, for some reason the color is just a lot more vibrant this day and it looks extra delicious?”

“Thanks.” You give him a pat on the back and exit the room.

Right when you start climbing up the stairs back to the third floor, your two-forty five alarm goes off. Perfect. It’s all going according to plan. You position yourself in the small space between your room and his, leaning against the archway with a feigned air of nonchalance.

The familiar click of a lock breaks the silence. You prepare to strike.

“Hey.”

It’s almost funny how Sunghoon immediately flinches at the sound of your voice, but you’re not here to laugh. You’re here to strike a conversation because for some reason, that’s completely impossible with the guy you’re currently staring down. He’s already recovered from the initial shock. You push through even though he’s scaring you shitless. “Can we talk for a sec?”

Apparently, you cannot talk for a sec because Sunghoon immediately starts walking, but you’ve foreseen this. You know he’d ignore you so you quickly kick your foot against the other side of the opening, barricading him inside this small corner with an outstretched leg.

Bam!

“I asked if we could talk.”

You watch as his eyes fly open in shock, taking a step forward only to jump back from your rather aggressive obstruction. Your arms are crossed, waiting for him to finally open his fucking mouth and surrender. He’s got nowhere to run.

Or, so you thought. Because he does have a way to run, and that is under your leg when he slides underneath as if it’s a fucking limbo stick. It gets a little breezy under your skirt when he skids right by. What the fuck. Is the idea of having to talk to you really that abhorrent to him? Are you seriously considering chasing after him right now?”

“Hey, wait!”

Yes, you are.

Sunghoon is fast. He’s running and running down the hall, down the stairs to the second floor, and you’re right at his fucking heels. You’ve prepared endlessly for this day and you have no intentions on letting him slip away like a slimy lizard. However, you might have made some flagrant miscalculations with your physical abilities, because the moment you reach the bottom floor, Sunghoon is widening the gap, and you’re just about to hack out your lungs and die.

How much stamina does this bastard have? Heeseung emerges from Jake’s room the moment Sunghoon speeds by, and you just barely manage to hold onto the door for support before you give up and start panting. “What’s going on? Are you two playing tag?”

You collapse to the ground. This is too much cardio. “No, I’m trying to kill him,” you say in between bated breaths. “But nevermind, I can’t do this anymore. Can you help me up? I can’t feel my fucking legs.”

When you look up at Heeseung, you notice that he’s brought a brick form of Iron Man from your friend’s room, cradling the red and yellow figure to his chest as hesitant eyes stare down at you with flushed cheeks. “I—I can. I can help,” he chokes out.

“Then help me?”

He simply stares at the arm you have reached out, waiting in the air for his retrieval. You sigh, holding onto the door instead to pull yourself up. Honestly, you shouldn’t have expected anything. “Heeseung, are you mysophobic?”

“What? No, what makes you say that?” The fact that looks relieved that you gave up on him plucks on your irritation. “I love my gay friends.”

You blink. “Nevermind. Can you at least tell me where Sunghoon is going? He usually leaves the house at this time, so I’m curious. Do you have an idea?”

“Oh, he has work,” he answers. “Hoon has the afternoon shifts at The Lounge. I think he works all days on weekdays.”

The Lounge is a cafe near your university (not that you’ve been there. Overpriced ice coffee isn’t exactly within your weekly budget). It’s a little far from this neighborhood and as far as you can recall Sunghoon goes to a different uni for sports medicine, so you’re not sure why he’s working there out of all places. “Alright. Thanks.” You’re careful not to brush against Heeseung when you pass by. One day, you’ll be dealing with him and his suspected germ problem with you, but at the moment your plate is still full with a different problematic male.

You fish for your wallet and phone in your room before crawling back downstairs. However, just when you’re about to grab your sandals from the foyer, you’re stopped by Beomgyu blocking your path. He’s leaning against the wall, waving the PD&J in front of your face (Jay was onto something when he gave it that nickname). “Pay up,” he demands. All these men are stressing you out.

“Why?”

For the sake of maintaining an amicable relationship with your housemates, you surrendered your jar monopoly and agreed that you’d all be using the money for additional grocery budget. However, you do not understand why the fuck you have to pay up now.

“Indecent attire,” is Beomgyu’s justification.

“Beomgyu, my tits aren’t even out.”

He parrots your statement in an annoying voice and you desperately want to punch him. If he wants to pick a fight, he should at the very least hide his blushing and look you in the eye. Your battle armor is working a little too well. “Move. I have another bastard to chase down.” But you don’t have time for him. Goddamnit, you have more men to confront after you’re done with Sunghoon. You shove past Beomgyu and leave the house, on your way to The Lounge with an unshakeable determination to fuck Park Sunghoon up.

It takes you a good twenty minutes to arrive at The Lounge, but you don’t walk in the cafe immediately. Through the large front windows, you spot Sunghoon serving a tray of drinks to some customers behind the counter. Oh, so he can be a normal person if he wants to. He’s even smiling and shit (he has a pretty smile. Why doesn’t he smile at you like that). With a huff, you push open the entrance and bulldoze through the door, stomping up to the counter while planning out your order in your head.

“Welcome! How may I hel—” Sunghoon’s customer service smile glitches when he realizes it’s you. “—he-help you?”

“Hi! Can I have an iced americano without the ice?”

“I’m—I’m sorry?”

You give him the sweetest, honey-dipped stretch of the lips that you can muster. “Iced americano. No ice. Oh, and can you get rid of the espresso shot, too?”

Sunghoon tries to clarify your order. You talk in circles until you finally settle with a glass of lemonade. This is the first time you’ve heard him talk this much which is honestly such a shame because he really does have a nice voice. Unfortunately, he goes mute around you unless his literal job actually requires him to communicate.

He scribbles your name onto the plastic cup and he asks if you don’t mind waiting. You settle on the table nearest to the counter because you want to keep stressing him out. He is. He has been very stressed from the moment you entered the store and it’s evident from how you hear a resounding swear from his workstation when he accidentally puts in too much lemon reserve in your cup and has to remake your drink.

You thought he’d finally gotten over his bad habit of staring, but you catch him flashing looks at you from time to time and at the moment— it’s rather prolonged. He’s looking at you so intently as he puts on the cup sleeve and calls out your name. You fear that you might have made a mistake because if there’s anything you know well about Sunghoon, it’s the fact that he has a very intense and very intimidating stare.

Like right now, as he continues staring when you get up from your seat to retrieve your drink. Seriously, what’s his fucking problem? You intend on staying here until the end of his shift and maybe corner him in the alley next to the cafe. You might be mildly afraid of him, but you’re not a pussy. You’re gonna settle this once and for all.

“Here’s your order.”

Sunghoon hands over your lemonade but for some reason, he doesn’t let go. You furrow your brows, pulling the cup towards you but it’s like his fingers are glued to the sleeve. He looks like he wants to say something, playing tug of war on your drink as he stalls, but you’re really getting annoyed now. A sharp tug on your end has the drink slipping out from both of your hands— painting a nice, yellow tinted splash all over the top that Beomgyu deemed indecent.

Now, it actually is indecent.

You’re speechless. Sunghoon’s face is flushed scarlet. Thank fucking god you ordered a cold drink.

Things weren’t supposed to go this way.

It’s not yet time for his break, but Sunghoon is already pacing back and forth in front of the breakroom, biting on his thumbnail as a mixture of anxiety and shame floods through his veins after royally screwing up. Fuck, he fucked up. He’s absolutely, absolutely, violently fucked himself in the ass and he has no idea how to salvage this.

He just wanted to apologize for sliding under your skirt earlier at the house, but the words wouldn’t jump out of his fucking mouth so he tried stalling and ended up giving you an unscheduled, lemon-flavored bath. His voice just stops working. It goes into total shutdown when he’s looking at you. It’s pathetic.

Normally, he can talk to people just fine. He gets into arguments with his sister over the phone on a daily basis. Hell, it’s even routinary for him to tell Jay to eat shit.

But something about pretty girls with equally pretty smiles makes it harder to string together sentences, okay?

And It’s not just a him problem. All of your house residents can’t talk to you normally, either, but he doesn’t want to stutter like a dumbass in front of you like Soobin and Heeseung hyung. Jake doesn’t count because he doesn’t even perceive you as a woman.

However because of that fear, he ends up not saying anything altogether. It’s hopeless. He’s as good as out of the running for the fucking bet they called (not that he thought he had a chance to win, anyway).

The breakroom door clicks open. He jitters on the spot.

“Sunghoon?”

Your head pops out from the crack in the door, your now clothed shoulder also peeking through. When you walk out, you’re now wearing the spare top he’s supposed to change into after his gym session later. Now that shirt is on you, and it isn’t helping his you-triggered state of emergency at all. “Thanks for the change of clothes.”

“I—I remade your drink.” For the second time. “Sorry about that.” Okay. You’re doing great, Sunghoon. You’re so cool, so awesome, and if you keep this up, you’ll be home free. You can do it.

You chase the straw with your lips. Why is he staring at your lips? “Sorry for spilling my drink all over me, or sorry about running away from me earlier like I had an infectious disease?”

He gulps. You’re really not making it easy for him to talk to you.

“Look, I think Heeseung acting as if I had cooties is enough of a constant attack to my pride. I might actually snap if you start avoiding me like the plague, too. Seriously.” Sunghoon remembers that he also twisted your arm at one point. He should add that to his list of apologies.

“Th—that wasn’t my intention. I was just afraid of running late.”

“Sure,” you scoff. “That doesn’t explain why the fuck you keep staring at me like you want me dead, though.” Looks like he has a lot more to apologize for. “Sunghoon, be honest. Do you have a problem with me? Like, have I done anything to offend you or something?”

“No, of course not!” he exclaims. “It’s just that—”

And like usual, his voice breaks down. Out of order, like a rundown machine. This is the fucking problem, it’s always the fucking problem, but he can’t just tell you that you make him feel nervous, can he? He can’t tell you that his vocal chords rupture when you’re around, making it impossible for him to talk, so he resorts to staring and staring and staring and hoping that if he stares long enough, you’ll somehow read his mind and get the idea of what he wants to say.

That clearly hasn’t been working. In fact, it’s making things worse so he has to come clean and oh god, you’re gonna think he’s so lame and he’ll never live past this moment until the day he dies a miserable, lonely death.

It’s the 21st century— why isn’t mindreading an freaking option yet? You look so genuinely upset that he can feel his heart clench up like an asshole. He should just rip his eyes out to repent.

“I’ll...try to stop staring, I’m sorry.”

“No, that’s not the problem, Sunghoon.” Your tone is filled with exasperation and he’s just driven further into guilt. “I have a feeling that you simply just have an unfortunate case of the resting bitch face, but you know what would help? If you actually say ‘hi’ instead of just ominously staring at me. That way I’d know you’re not preparing to throttle me.”

Is his blank expression really that bad? His brows furrow. He’s never gotten any bad feedback about his face before.

But here he goes again. Thinking his thoughts instead of speaking out loud. You let out a sigh and he feels infinitely worse, but he can’t keep stalling because he has to get back to work, and his co-worker is already giving him impatient looks, and he feels like talking is only making things worse. “Can you wait for a while? My shift isn’t over yet, but my break is in thirty minutes.”

“Yeah, sure. Sorry for disturbing you.”

While he’s making drinks and serving customers, Sunghoon makes sure to plot out his entire explanation speech so that you won’t think he’s entirely pathetic. But thirty minutes go by so quickly and the moment his break arrives and he’s pulling out the chair in front of you, all the paragraphs he’s carefully constructed disappear into nothing. Gone. Head absolutely empty save for the thought that this almost feels like a date. But this is not a date. This is a fucking interrogation.

“Say your piece.”

You don’t even give him a chance to prepare. You’re ruthless.

“Well—” So, he starts. He skips over the part that you make him nervous but that aside, he makes the confession that although he does find it difficult to talk to you due to a certain, specific, undisclosable reason (because you’re a girl and you’re pretty), he definitely isn’t plotting your murder, and Sunghoon’s cadence becomes slower, a lot more jagged when he notices the expression on your face. You’re smiling, but it’s not the pretty smiles you usually give him. This one feels a lot more ominous. Is this how you feel when he accidentally stares at you for too long? Should he be scared?

“—And that’s it, but why...why are you looking at me like that…?”

“It’s nothing.” It’s definitely not nothing. Sunghoon’s eyes follow your movement as you rise from your seat. “What kind of drinks do the rest of the guys like?”

“Jay likes americanos and Soobin hyung— wait.” He’s also up now. He doesn’t know he’s standing up, but he is. “You’re leaving already?”

“Do you want me to stay?”

At this point, you’re just doing this on purpose. What the fuck is he supposed to say to that? “Are we good…now?” hesitantly, he tries to make sure. Something is off and he knows it.

“Yeah. We’re good,” you hum, finishing up your lemonade and leaving it on the table. “See you at home. Oh wait, the drinks.” Sunghoon feels uneasy with this conclusion, but he wordlessly follows you to the counter anyway and takes your takeout orders. You’re just gonna go? Why aren’t you making fun of him for being a loser? Why are you just taking the drinks from him without mentioning anything?

“Thanks. I’ll come by more often,” you tell him, and it just furthers his confusion. “I can also bring some of my friends so you can keep practicing how to talk to pretty girls. Oh, this latte is yours.”

Ah.

Of course.

There it is.

“Hoon?” You wave a hand in front of his eyes. “Sorry, am I making you nervous again?”

Sunghoon wants to die.

“Can you just— can’t you just forget everything I told you?”

You shake your head and flash him a smile. The smile that always makes him stupid and nervous. Dammit, why do you have to be so pretty? Why must your smile be so pretty and erode his brain into mush? It doesn’t help when you reach out a hand to give him two soft pats on the cheek. It doesn’t help when the warmth of your touch lingers and burrows deep into his skin. “No way. Not when you’ve finally made so much progress! Let’s keep working on it, okay?”

Sunghoon is finally able to breathe the moment you exit The Lounge, and he nearly collapses into the ground.

The misunderstanding between the both of you has been cleared up— at the cost of his pride and dignity (not that he has much of that in the first place). How the fuck is he supposed to face you after all of this, much less talk to you.

Words. What even are they?

HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS. © hannie-dul-set.

#tomorrow x together x reader #enhypen x reader #txt x reader #enha x reader #park sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x reader #choi soobin x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #park sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon scenarios #lee heeseung x reader #park jongseong x reader #sim jaeyun x reader #tomorrow x together scenarios #txt scenarios #enhypen scenarios #enha scenarios

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voiidlizrd · 7 months

Note

Omg I came across your Star Child fic and I and IN LOVE.

Do you think we could get a continuation?

AHHH!!! Thank you all so much!! I really appreciate the love from the last post too! It means a lot to me since I love writing things like these! (＾▽＾)

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Dorm Leaders and Hurt/Sick Star!Child Reader

Disclaimer(s): Little bits of angst but lots of fluff and comforting! May include gross stuff like throwing up, bits of blood (due to accidental injury!) and things like that! Also typos.

Includes: Riddle, Leona, Azul, Kalim, Vil, Malleus

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

Riddle is apart of the horse riding club and brings you along to usually just watch, considering he cannot leave you alone without a proper adult (aka Trey and usually only Trey or maybe Carter considering he doesn’t trust the other dorm members as far as he can throw them) around to make sure you don’t eat anything or set anything on fire… again.

But then again, he does really enjoy bringing you along. You seem to really enjoy the horses and they seem pretty alright with you, mostly because they don’t seem to care either way wether you were around or not. Either way, Riddle thinks it’s nice to have you around.

But then you wanted to ride his horse with him!

“Pleeeeease? Just this once? I won’t ask again!” You whined tugging at PE uniform shirt, giving him a pout and attempting to do those puppy dog eyes to sway him, but it never usually works unless you annoy him long enough.

“You’re too little, Y/N,” Riddle said, putting the rattle on his horse and tightening its straps. “You might get hurt if you aren’t careful.”

“But you’re little too.” You said casually, giving him a blank look. It only worsened the blow as you just insult him based on his height.

He grits his teeth and feels his cheeks heating up, face scrunching up. “Hush! I’m older than you which is why I ride the horses! You’re like, what, nine?”

“I’m one.”

“You’re at leaste nine.” Well, you appear nine years old, but if he were getting technical, you were right about being one since you falling could be counted as your birth and having a human form, making you one, or maybe two years old.

“Still, you cannot ride the horses. Not yet at least. Maybe when you turn ten for your next birthday—“ which you picked yourself! Apparently you wanted the day to be the first time you met him, which totally didn’t make him want to cry… “I’ll let you ride the horses with me.”

You huff and cross your arms, making Riddle sigh at you, lightly ruffling your hair (though awkwardly, he’s still getting use to giving you affection).

“Riddle!” Sebek called from afar, his horse fully set up by the reins. “I think your reins are in the shed by the stables! Silver forgot to put them where they usually go in our last meeting!”

Riddle huffed and gave you one look and gave you a little smile, a small attempt to comfort you a little, before lightly jogging back to the stables and near the shed, which was a few yards away from the large sports field. Which left you alone with Riddles horse, those big beady black eyes staring into yours.

You lifted your tiny hand up to the neck of the horse’s brown fur, lightly patting it, which the horse merely stared at you as you attempted to pet it’s mane as well. It seemed unbothered but you and your antics, not even flinching or trying to nip at you when you threaded your fingers through its hair and caught a knot.

Then you got an idea…

You blinked at the horse and then grabbed onto the saddle, jumping up a few times to try and put your foot into the foot holders. After a few tries, you were able to hoist yourself up, though awkwardly and partly dangling halfway off the other side, attempting to readjust yourself, before finally sitting on the sattle.

It was high up there. To you and your little self, you thought you were a giant, a ruler of the world! Why would Riddle ever want to stop you from being this tall!? Was he jealous? You bet he would be if he saw you now!

“Y/N!” Speak of the Devil and he shall appear. “GET DOWN FROM THERE NOW!”

The burst of his voice and the fact he was racing towards you and the horse spooked the horse, making it get all fidgety and start to move around anxiously. Riddle didn’t notice until he got too close, realizing that the horse was now officially stress out and you were left clinging onto it as it ran off, Riddle whistling after it and calling for it.

You lost your grip on the horse’s mane and you were easily thrown off given how small you are, tumbling to the ground and kicking up dirt, your dorm uniform messed up and scratching yourself on stray rocks that were lying about.

Riddle wasn’t lying when he would say his heart dropped because his heart did stop and drop to his stomach when he saw you fall off and hit your head on the ground in the process.

“Y/N!” He called, his horse slowing to a halt when Silver ran up to intervene.

He crouched down to your side and held you in his arms, checking you over and feeling a little relieved when he didn’t see any blood, just a couple scrapes and bruises. But hitting your head would be worse than any blood.

“Are you alright!?” Riddle asked, trying to make you open your eyes and look at him, but you kept your eyes tightly closed, possibly from dirt getting in your eyes. “Y/N?”

“Are you two alright!?” Sebek came running over with his horse and looked to Silver who held Riddle’s horse and his own. “How about you put those two away, I’ll put my horse back in the stables later, Y/N needs medical assistance!”

You blinked your eyes open for a moment, rubbing the dirt that hurt your eyes and looked to Riddle. Riddle’s expressions was odd, especially since he hadn’t looked like this before, so fearful and concerned. He watched at you sniffled once, twice, and then you started bawling your eyes out, wailing loudly and wrapping your arms around his neck. You weren’t feeling any pain other than some stings, you just felt overwhelmed with the adrenaline and the sudden rush and how terrified Riddle looked.

“Y/N?” Riddle wrapped his arms around you, threading his fingers through your hair. He didn’t realize how tight his grip was around you.

“I-I’m sorry!” You cried, snot running down your nose and tears running down your dirt covered cheeks as you buried yourself in his shirt. “I’m sorry!”

If you had done this before his overblot and before he had a seriously reality check coming to him, he would’ve screamed his heart out at you and scolded you for hours after getting you to the nurse, but he couldn’t find it in himself to blame you. After all, you are just a child, practically a baby.

“It was not your fault!” He said grabbing your face. “I should have been more watchful of you. It was my fault.”

You continued you cry and press your face in his neck, wrapping your legs around his torso like a koala. Silver and Sebek tried to ask what they needed to do to help, but Riddle dismissed them both, prompting to carry you to the nurse to take a once over to make sure nothing was broken.

So that’s what Riddle did, he swallowed his pride and carried you all the way to the nurse. Who cares if other people are staring at him while walking down the halls!? He was gonna get you to the nurse!

In the end you were perfectly fine, just needed a bandaid or two and a seriously cleaning up. All the while you refused to let go of your koala grip the whole time, not even when you two got back to the dorm.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Riddle stared back at him and sighed, feeling grey hairs already starting to form. “

Trey stared at the sight slightly amused and very confused. You clinging to Riddle with a dirtied uniform and Riddle looking stressed than ever holding you just as tightly as you were holding him.

“So… What happened?” Trey asked.

Riddle sighed and could feel grey hairs starting to form. “Can you watch Y/N from now on whenever I go to club meetings?”

“…Yeah? Why…?”

“Just… Do it. Please.”

“Okay?”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

It had be hours and you still haven’t let Riddle go. The only time you did, you did in order to get dressed and take a bath, then you went straight back to koala mode, feeling very clingy now towards him after his concern and your near “death” experience with a horse. Now, Riddle, didn’t mind the first few minutes of this koala holding/cuddling, but now it was starting to get a little silly. Anytime he tried to get you off, you started tearing up immediately, which made Riddle panic and let you back up in his arms, which now left him sitting on the couch with a little child clinging onto him and refusing to let go.

“Y/N I have to get up, can you please let go?”

“No!”

Riddle sighs. This will be going on for a while.

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

Leona left you usually to Ruggie most of the time, considering he sucks with children, but that usually fails since you come back around to him no matter where he is. He swears you’re like a leech rather than a star and considering he knows Jade and Floyd, it says something. But something about today makes him uneasy.

He was resting in his room, ready for a nap because he was exhausted of everyone around him, and curled up ready to sleep it away. But then as he settled, he realized how quiet it was aside from the usual chatter outside from his dorm members. That was normal. What wasn’t normal was the fact you were running into his room ready to either bother him, usually asking (demanding) to nap next to him, like you always do (which he allows you to do because he’s too tired to tell you no). But there wasn’t a single sound of your tiny self scrambling into his room nor Ruggie attempting to grab you from jumping on the grumpy sleepy lion, though Ruggie barely tried to stop you since he found it adorable. You were like a demanding sibling needing attention from their big brother. It reminded Ruggie of how he looks up to Leona. Leona didn’t understand it, but dealt with you reluctantly.

Now he was restless because you’ve officially ruined his napping routine. He growls and slinks out of the bed, practically stomping out of his room and finding yours easily, since it was closer to his and Ruggie’s. That’s when he heard Ruggie cooing over you and your soft crying. He entered the room, the door already cracked open, and sees you in your bed shivering and crying as Ruggie puts a cold rag over your forehead, trying to comfort you, although a little poorly since his encouraging words fell on deaf ears.

“I don’t wanna die…” You cried out. “It hurts!”

“I know, I know,” Ruggie sighs. “But don’t worry, this is perfectly normal! It’s just a flu. Your body is just fighting off a bad sickness, is all.”

“It hurts… Make it stop…” You sniffled, your nose all stuffed and fighting against wanting to throw off the blankets and keep them on, your body going from hot and cold in minutes.

“You’ll be alright after a few days, promise.” He said with a little smile, patting your head. Then he noticed the prince standing in the doorway.

“Oh, hey Leona, uh just gimme a sec, I gotta make them take this medicine.”

“No!” You protested, attempting to sit up but immediately laid back down when your head throbbed. “It tastes nasty!”

“Well, this is gonna help you get better faster so I’d suggest taking it!” Ruggie huffed, pouring the liquid medicine onto a tablespoon.

Leona felt himself shiver at the idea of the medicine. He’s had his fair share of drinking that liquid poison and he still could remember the taste on his tongue.

“What’s wrong with the brat?”

Ruggie huffs in frustration as he tries to put the spoon near your mouth, but you kept moving your face away. “They’re sick. I think their body now is starting to get use to the more human side of things, like sickness and whatnot.”

You then realized Leona was there and gave him a look, lower lip trembling as you stared at him, staring. “Leo…”

Sniffling again you reached out to him, grabby hands demanding him for a hug. He gave you a face, scrunching up his nose, and he shakes his head.

“You’re sick, no way in hell am I getting close to you.”

“Hey!” Ruggie tried to shove the spoon in your mouth since you’re cut off guard, but you shove your face under the blanket. He groans. “I’m the one dealing with them! What happens when I get sick, huh!?”

“That’ll be your problem.”

“Asshole.”

Ruggie wants to give up with the medicine, opting to just wait until later when you’re sleepy and unable to fuss and just make you drink it, but Leona has different methods. He grabbed the spoon and yanked the covers off, making you protest loudly.

“Hey. If you drink this, I’ll stay here with you. Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you and I can’t nap since I feel like you’re gonna smother me in my sleep all the time.”

Your eyes lit up and you grabbed the spoon and drank the medicine like it was nothing and the whole fight against it was for nothing. Ruggie was definitely pissed but decided not to show it, merely twitching his eye and his tail swishing in annoyance behind him.

But then he suddenly got chipper. “Hey! Since you’re gonna watch over them, you’re clearly gonna take care of them the whole time since their sick, right?”

“No, wait that’s not what I meant-“

“Thanks Leona!” He was already out the door. “Bye!!”

Leona growled under his breath but then looked at you. You were staring at him with a frown, small tears going down your cheeks and a hand grabbing at his large hand, pathetic pleading eyes looking back at him.

“You’re not leaving me, right?” Your voice rasped. “I don’t wanna be alone…”

Ahhhhhh shit. That hit him in the gut. He was frowning before but now it looks like he’s frowning but with a wince. He complains a lot about you, but he seriously cannot ever say no to you, usually. Something he learned when he was a kid is that if you weren’t in the spotlight, you’d never be in the spotlight at all. You were either met with dismissive glances or small smiles of pity and words of pretend, or just generally being met with judgment. You were just a little kid with nowhere to go and no family at all, with him left to care about you. He cares about Cheka, but then again Cheka was a reminder of something he could never have. Even though he’s given up on it a long time ago, it still leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. But then there was you, just a silly baby child who barely knew anything about the world and complaining about dying over a simple flu, crying and sniffling about it. No crown, no family, no nothing. Perhaps he can give you what he never got.

Leona sighed heavily and his ear twitched, practically shoving you to the side and flopping down beside you. You immediately latched onto him like the little leech you were, sniffling and whining about your head hurting and your eyes hurting too.

“Calm down and try sleeping.” He huffed, patting you awkwardly on the head.

It went quiet for a moment and he relaxed, shutting his eyes and yawning loudly while you kept yourself latched to his arm like a rat.

“Leo…?” Your voice came out quietly. He huffed through his nose and made a noise in acknowledgment.

“I read about family in stories,” you said. “And I’ve heard Ruggie talk about his siblings and I thought of you. Does that mean we’re a family?”

NO. NO. NO NO NO NO. What is this warm feeling inside his chest? This disgusting warm feeling that makes him feel happy and proud? Gross. Sickening… he wants to bash his head in the wall from how overwhelmed he is with this feeling inside this chest causing his heart to ache. He subconsciously rubs your back and sighs.

“Yeah, sure, whatever. Now go to sleep.”

Ignoring the bright smile going across your face, he shuts his eyes tightly and yawns again. You are quick to pass out, given how exhausted you are and the medicine kicking in. Perhaps it’s because your body hasn’t experienced the medicine nor a flu before, so the energy you have is quickly dwindling because of it. He’ll have to talk to that birdbrain Crowley and see if he can get you a doctor to get any shots. He can’t have you dying on him because of some flimsy illness in the potential future. Who knows how weak your new immune system is.

He’s just gonna ignore how brotherly he sounds.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“I told you so.”

“Shut the hell up Ruggie.”

“NO LEO DONT DIE!”

“I’m not dying, I just have the flu. The flu you gave me, need I remind you.”

“IM SORRY!!!”

“Oi! Stop crying all over me!”

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

Azul isn’t that good with children. That isn’t to say he doesn’t try. Jade and Floyd are usually untrusted by him to take care of you. Sure they have siblings of their own, but given how they are, there is no doubt that they’ll turn you into more of a menace than you already are, especially since you keep biting him with those grimy little teeth of yours.

Well, there is also the fact your enamored with your body. And that’s not bad, every child gets curious about how they look from their feet, nose, mouth, eyes. This didn’t exclude you. But unfortunately, you’re more questioning how your body functions. Now, he can’t answer most of your… weird questions…

Where does blood come from?

What does blood taste like?

What do my organs look like?

What do your organs look like.

…

He tries his best not to give you an answer to most of them, given how fucking weird they are. And he doesn’t blame you. In all honestly, you’re around Floyd, so he would be more surprised if you aren’t curious of how long the human body can go without air (which you did ask him about).

Creepy little gremlin child.

But it’s whatever. You’re a kid and one that hasn’t been in an actual body before. Again, your body is human, but it has very different functions from what he could tell.

Then, the day came where you got sick. He thought it wasn’t possible, but somehow it was after yesterday. You were messing around in the big tank again but refused to dry up properly. He tried to warn you;

“Y/N, you need to dry up. You’ll get sick.”

“No I won’t! I’ll be fine. I don’t need to worry about human illnesses.”

You ate those words when he found you curled up in your bed, sniffling and pouting and complaining. He was like a disappointed mom, a hand on his hip with a “I told you so” expression on his face.

“Zuzu,” you peaked at him from beneath your blanket, pleading eyes. “I think I’m dying.”

“Not dying. Just suffering the consequences of not listening to me.”

“You’re so mean!” You whined, sniffling and shivering into your thick blankets.

Jade entered the room with a knock on the door. He had a bowl of hot mushroom soup in hand, homemade and one of your favorite foods in Mostro Lounge, but the more you thought about eating it, the more your stomach did not want it.

Seeing your nose turn up and frown, Jade chuckled and sat beside you on the bed. “You must eat.” He said holding the spoon. “You’ll only start complaining about how your stomach hurts. If you don’t, I will force feed you.”

Sheesh that dangerous smile he was giving you sent shivers down your spine, making you pout more and your mind practically hissing in protest, but you give in and take the bowl and spoon.

“Awe poor starfishy…” Floyd had entered the room with a pout of his own collapsing at the foot of the bed. “Can’t you just spell it away, Azul?”

“Well…” Azul looked at your face as you slurped at your soup, but then beamed at him when you looked at him. He smirked at you. “No. I think you’ll do just find fighting it out. After all, your body must learn how to handle sicknesses like these.”

“You’re so mean ZuZu!” You cried. “I don’t wanna be sick anymore!”

“It’s your fault for not listening to me, Y/N.”

“I said I was sorry!!!”

Azul ushered Floyd and Jade out of the room, knowing that they’d probably scheming against him or making this even more difficult. As much as he loved his friends, he knows they can be a pain in the ass for him. Especially when it came to you, who’s an even more pain in the ass.

You finished your soup and left the soup bowl on the bedside table. You fully laid down and still had that pathetic look on your face as you looked at Azul. Azul couldn’t help but feel upset looking at you, a heavy feeling in his heart. Ah… Perhaps he was a bit too harsh. He sighs and takes his seat next to you, which you immediately latch onto him, which he awkwardly returned the side hug, but let you mostly leech onto his side.

“I would help you with a simple potion, but your body needs to get use to the more human side of things. This includes illness.” He explained as gently as he could for you to understand.

“But I don’t wanna!”

“Well you’re going to have to.”

You smothered yourself into his jacket, which he would have to wash later, but he sighs and pats your head.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be here for you the whole time, alright?”

When you looked up at him with those big ol’ eyes and smile, even with how puffy and your nose being all runny, he couldn’t help but feel his heart clench. He wants to throw you because of this overwhelming feeling, how dare you make him feel this way! (He’s gonna protect you to the day he dies, no, even after that, he’ll always protect you.)

“I love you zuzu! I’ll get better soon so we can swim!”

“That’s the reason you’re sick in the first place!”

…

“HEY DONT BITE ME!”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You had gotten better over the past few days, as he expected, but you’re up to your shenanigans again.

“Y/N! I TOLD YOU! NO SWIMMING SO SOON!!”

“Awww come on Azul!” Floyd was already in the tank and in his eel form. “The starfish is just fine now! It’s perfectly fine!”

You stared at Azul from up top near the tank and you two locked eyes.

“Y/N…” Azul put his hands on his hips, trying his best to look stern.

You continued to stare at him, inching closer to the water.

“Don’t you dare!”

…

You flopped into the water.

“Y/N!”

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

Kalim wholeheartedly believed that today was gonna be a good day. He woke up feeling refreshed and you were acting less of a gremlin today so Jamil was ALSO in a good mood!

You two were hand in hand as he dragged you about Night Raven. Kalim’s plan today was to bring you to Jamil’s basketball practice to cheer him on. Though Jamil never really like Kamil coming to his practice matches since, well, they were just practice and nothing special, he did cave in when Kamil pleaded that he wanted to show you various activities that people do at Night Raven, which included basketball, which you had no idea what it was.

So there you were sitting at the benches watching the small match between Floyd, Jamil, and Ace. You were lightly cheering on Jamil with what he believed was encouragement? It was mostly you copying Kamil, who mostly said “go Jamil!” and you’d repeat him with a cheer that wasn’t very animatic as Kamil’s was, monotoned sounding, but he knew you meant it, even if you didn’t know how to express it, which made him want to try even harder! Even if it was just practice.

“Are you watching, Y/N?” Kamil was smiling beside you as he watched you watching the practice. You nodded and matched his smile, in awe when Floyd snatched the ball from Ace and slammed it into the hoop yet again. Which made Ace complain but Floyd was enjoying messing with him.

“Jamil is so cool! Maybe he can teach you a bit of basketball if you’re interested! I can try convincing him.”

You weren’t all that interested in the game itself, mostly with the ball they were throwing around. Your tiny brain was going nuts over the orange ball they passed and dribbled on the floor, watching it bounce. You wanted it because it bounced! You can throw it at so many things and it’ll just bounce! How cool was that!? To you, it was genius.

Your bitty baby brain wanted that ball.

You’re gonna get that ball.

They stopped practice after a while, which you weren’t sure when, and Jamil called for a fifteen minute break. Jamil then approached the bleachers where you and Kamil were sat. Kamil smiled joyfully at the sweaty player.

“You were so cool Jamil! Im glad you let us watch you practice! You work so hard!! Also wasn’t Y/N a great cheerleader? Even though they didn’t sound very enthusiastic.” Kamil rambled to Jamil, who looked more and more annoyed since he was tired.

Jamil sighs. “Thanks you two, really. But Kamil, could you mind helping me bring out the cooler? I forgot it back at the locker room. Ace is being dramatic and Floyd is… Well, he’s Floyd, he doesn’t wanna bother.”

“Of course! Uh… Y/N do you mind waiting here for a bit? We’ll be back in no time! And there will be yummy snacks in the cooler too!”

“But there’s only enough for the players…”

“Then we’ll share!”

“I doubt Floyd will like that.”

You basically checked out of their conversation, only focused on the ball tucked in Jamil’s arms. He noticed and smiled at you, handing you the large ball. The surface was much harder than you expected, also bumpy! You were fascinated.

“Mind holding this for me until I get back?” You nodded hastily and your nose was touching the ball. Staring at it intently. Jamil was confused but let you do your thing, it’s basically how he gets around when you’re being weird, like usual.

When they left, you were left with mostly the other players in the gym. There weren’t a lot since they all mostly headed out to make use of their break time, which left you mostly alone. You stared at the ball. You threw the ball lightly in the air and caught it with ease. Up and down and up and down. You did this for a while until you started bouncing the ball on the bottom of the bleachers, catching it each time. This was amazing and you loved this ball. But you wanted to toss it and let it come back to you, like how Jamil does on the court. So you stand up and walk down the bleacher stairs and onto the court. The other players didn’t pay any attention to you, only giving you a once over before doing their own things. You looked up at the hoop above you. It was very tall from what you’ve seen, but up close it was like staring up at a giant! You remembered some of the moves Jamil did when throwing the ball, like jumping up and throwing it. So you… Tried to do that. But unfortunately your jump was barely an inch off the ground and you tossed the ball hard into the ring of the hoop, causing the ball to bounce off it and come right back to you

And into your face.

The sound of the ball smacking hard against your face rang out in the gym as your whole face burned with the sting, the force of impact making you fall back, your butt now hurting from the fall, but your face hurt even more, especially your nose.

“Y/N!”

Instantly Kamil was at your side with more tears in his eyes than you. You weren’t even sure how fast he ran. Jamil was following right behind him with him carrying the cooler. Apparently from how it looked, Kamil’s second senses went off halfway in the hall while carrying the cooler and promptly let it go and ran off.

“Oh my Sevens, Y/N, are you okay!?” Kamil was on the verge of sobbing as he held your face gently. “Y-Your nose!”

You’re in a daze when you realize the wet feeling running down your nose. You press your fingers under your nose and found blood. Surprisingly, you barley even realized it and were more focused on Jamil’s ball. You stood up, ignoring the fact that the world was spinning and you were seeing double, grabbed the ball and wiped whatever little blood was on it, and handed it over to Jamil before collapsing into Kamil’s chest.

“OH MY SEVEN THEIR DEAD!”

“THEY ARENT DEAD KAMIL STOP SHAKING THEM LIKE THAT!”

“WAHH Y/N!!” He was sobbing like a baby while you were sleeping peacefully trying to get rid of the massive headache.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You were banned from ever touching the basketballs ever again after that day, only ever using the soft ones and those made you bored very quickly because they weren’t the hard ones.

“Kamil I’ll be careful next time, can I please-“

“No! What if you slam it so hard into your face you hurt your brain or-or crack something?!”

“I don’t think that’s possible…” Jamil was on board with the whole “playing it safe” with the balls but Kamil was being a little dramatic.

“YOU NEVER KNOW!”

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

(I got more comforting with Vil than silly cause I love Vil)

Vil had sent you to the school to find Mr. Crewel to see if he had spare devil ginger root and other ingredients that he could use in potions he was creating for the class. They were for a homework project, but unfortunately, he didn’t have enough and the shop was closed due to Sam being out for the day. So he sent you to find Crewel. Sure, to others it would seem irresponsible, given how you were just a small baby with little thoughts behind those eyes, but Vil knows that you are a smart potato, even when others seem to doubt your ever learning intelligence. So you were proudly walking down the halls with determination in your eyes as you went down the remembered route to Crewel’s class. You were on a mission and you weren’t gonna stop until you got the ingredients Vil needed for his homework.

You turned up hallway and up the stairs where Crewel’s classroom would be down the hall, when suddenly a group of students from mixed dorms came running, possibly chasing each other or for some sort of reason and didn’t seem to notice you, barreling past you. One bumped into you, causing you to stumble backwards. You stumbled over your own two feet, falling backwards down the short flight of stairs, slamming down hard on your knee when your body twisted to the side and your legs unfortunately meeting the steps before you tumbled down the short flight of stairs and onto the floor.

You didn’t register that your knee was completely fucked at all, just blinking in shock when you lifted your upper body up and looked around. A couple of concerned students, a few of them Pomfoire, came to your aid. One of them almost fainting when they saw that your knee was sorta out of place. When you looked down and saw the oddly looking kneecap, you blinked at it…

And then started screaming.

Rook has a second set of scenes when it comes to you ever since you joined their dorm. He watched over you when Vil wasn’t around or he just watched over you in general. So when he heard the scream, he immediately somehow tracked you down within seconds, running to your aid. There he saw you on the ground with students trying to help you. He ran to your side.

“Dear étoile!” He noticed your knee and cooed lightly, as if trying to comfort a small rabbit, and gently lifted you up to carry you to the quick as he could.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Vil burst through the nurses office and ran to your bed where you laid. “Potato! What on earth happened!?”

You were a little teary eyed but mostly worn out because the nurse gave you medicine to numb the pain. Rook sighed.

“A couple of first years were rough housing in the hall and bumped into the poor starling and fell down the stairs. Do not worry, I have tracked them down and gave them a… thorough lecture before handing them off to the headmaster.” Rook grinned and patted your head

Vil huffed. He would have to ask who the students were for… personal reasons that you didn’t need to worry about.

“Vil,” you sniffled at him and your tiny hand grabbed his finger, making him look at you. “It hurts. Can’t you use your power to make it go away?”

He couldn’t deny that he could heal you with a minor potion, but then again, he doesn’t know how this could affect your body. It’s new for your human body to sustain injuries and you were a child. He grasped your tiny hand gently and tried to smile at you comfortingly.

“I cannot do that, potato. I’m not sure how your body could possible handle not being able to heal itself if I didn’t allow it. I’ll find something to numb the pain for you, do not worry your little head about it.”

He would hater check you out from the nurse and bring you back to the nurse and put you to bed. When injured, you needed to rest. He’d have to check you in with the nurse again later down the line to regularly keep track of your healing progress. But that could wait. You just needed to sleep.

He laid you down on the plush of your bed, putting a pillow underneath your knee to keep it comfortable and upright so it doesn’t curl at an angle that would hurt you. He stood up, about to leave, when you grasped the arm of his robe.

“Vi-Vi?” You gently called. He looked to you and his heart ached. Sometimes he does forget you are a child given your personality and how much you try and annoy him. “Can you stay with me? Please?”

Now his heart was hurting and in agony at how quiet your voice sounded, so drowsy from the medicine kicking in. Normally, he would try and convince you to not cling onto him, but you needed him more than ever. After all, you were just a baby.

He sighs and nods. “Of course potato.”

He moved besides you and let you cling onto his arm while you remained on your back, unable to really move because of your casted leg. He never really thought he’d find himself in this situation but he gently pats your head to lull you to sleep faster, which worked surprisingly well.

It made his heart clench even harder when you nuzzled yourself into him, a comforted smile on your face.

Yeah, he’s made up his mind, he’s gonna curse those students. No one hurts you. Ever.

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

Iida felt horrible. Really, he did, even though it wasn’t really his fault, he knows that too, but he can’t help but feel bad.

You were laying in bed, a bucket beside it, looking miserable as you sniffled and cried, trying to throw off your blanket, but Idia would gently pull it back up.

Just a day ago, you were fine, great in fact. You had scored a 89/100 in Mr. Trein’s class, one many thought you’d fail at since it was the same difficulty as the rest of the class and you were quite literally born maybe a few months ago, so you knew very little on the history of Twisted Wonderland, but you worked hard and scored a high eighty-nine and Idia and Ortho wanted to treat you to some good takeout. It was a new place to Idia so he’s never experienced the food before, but it was the most convenient and close to the school itself. When he picked it up and brought it over, the three of you spent the night in his room watching shows he was very interested in, which you enjoyed since Idia was excited about it the whole time and his excitement transferred to you. Plus you had yummy food with you!

But then during the night you felt horrible, like, really horrible. Your body was on fire, equivalent to how hot you felt while being a star, and sweating profusely, but you were shivering. It confused you to no end and overwhelmed you. You eventually had to throw up in the bathroom toilet, which you ran to, and then started crying because to you, you felt like your insides were trying to get outside! Which is something that they’re NOT suppose to do.

Idia found you in the bathroom on the floor crying because you were confused and hurting at the same time. Ortho had to help him because Idia was on the verge of crying himself because he was panicking!

Ortho, bless his heart, managed to calm both you and his brother down in the mists of your screaming with his intellect.

“Based on my scans, it appears that Y/N is suffering from a stomach bug!”

“THERES A BUG INSIDE ME!?”

“No, no! It’s just a virus!”

“AM I GONNA DIE!?”

“Based on your immune system, I’d say you have a 90% survival rate!”

“WAHHHH-“

“Ortho!”

Well… He helped a little! Idia had to bare with you clinging onto him as he tried to convince you that you weren’t dying. Now here you were, inside his room snuggled into his blankets because you refused to stay inside your room while like this. You stopped throwing up a while ago when Ortho gathered some basic stuff that your stomach could handle, plus medicine. Ortho was sat on the bed near you, Idia at his desk gaming on his computer. You started crying again because your head was hurting and your stomach ached. Ortho gently pat your head, brows furrowing in concern. Idia was already stressing and it could be seen in his gaming and how he was dying more than once in a row. His teammates were less than pleased, to say the least.

“Do not cry, Y/N! Big brother and I are here for you. Just keep drinking your water, you’ll get dehydrated if you continue crying!” Ortho attempted to comfort you but it was met with a scrunched up displeased look on your face.

Idia groaned and exited his game and decided to join you and Ortho. He wasn’t the best at comforting, but somehow you find comfort in having both him and Ortho around, plus it was the only way you’d get to sleep.

“Ortho is right, Y/N. You gotta sleep so you can get better.”

“But what if I die in my sleep? I won’t be able to see you or Orthie again!” Your frown was almost comical and Idia could laugh, but he sighed and sat on the bed, instantly you cling to him.

“You aren’t gonna die! You’re more dramatic than me and that’s saying something…” He knew he was gonna get sick because of you but he could worry about that later.

“Dida?”

“Still not my name but, yeah?”

“Can you stay with me until I fall asleep?”

“You’re in my room! Not many places a hermit like me can go!” He would stay with you either way, but that’s okay.

“I’ll stay with you as well, Y/N!”

You smiled for the first time in two days and managed to stop crying. Idia laid down beside you, albeit stiffly, and Ortho happily plopped down beside you as well. The metal of his body was able to provide heat and coolness to keep his systems running smoothly, which means his body was cooling you off when your body was as hot as the sun itself. Or it just felt that way. But inside you, the warmth wasn’t uncomfortable, you felt happy.

“Adidas?”

“Wh- Why? I-“ he sighs, honestly he knows you’re doing this on purpose but it still surprises him. “Yeah?”

“Are we a family?”

Ah shit. Idia was panicking internally. He knew he was going down the found family route, but he didn’t realize how much it would hurt when it was said out loud! Truth be told, he didn’t believe he could do anything for you, that he wasn’t ready for this. Constantly, whenever he looked at Ortho before his Overblot, all he felt was regret, guilt, self pity. He’s managed since then, especially since you helped him out, you gave him hope and a bit of confidence in himself. On top of that, seeing you with Ortho made him proud. Like he was a big brother of two little siblings.

Now he wants to scream into the pillow because of your question.

“I believe we are, Y/N!” Ortho piped up. “Big brother Idia always takes care of you like he does with me! And he’s very caring over you and likes to teach you things! That’s what family does, right big brother?”

Idia was currently trying to reboot.

“I- Uh…. Yeah? Um. Yeah. Yeah I guess we’re a family…”

“Yay! Y/N is my little sibling!”

“But I wanna be the big sibling.”

“You said that you were born only a few months ago when you arrived here at Night Raven! Therefore I am older than you!”

“Idia tell him that it’s my turn to be the big sibling!”

“Just go to sleep Y/N.”

“I will throw your figurines.”

Now he’s starting to regret considering talking to his family about adopting you! You’re a monster in disguise! (He’ll still talk his parents into considering.)

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

Lilia can’t cook. This is a fact and he is actually banned from the kitchen. So when Silver saw Lilia in the kitchen, he knew the day was gonna be filled with bad luck. And he was right.

You were minding your own business watching the others practice on their brooms for the next game, especially with how Malleus balanced himself on the broomstick with ease and did seemingly easy tricks on it. And you wanted to do it yourself! So when the others weren’t looking you grabbed a spare broom and quickly levitated in the air with you attempting to balance yourself on it.

“Y/N, GET DOWN FROM THERE!” Sebek yelled from the ground after returning from his water break.

The sound of his voice startled you from your brief daydream while on the broom. You jumped and lost your balance on the broom, flipping onto one side and losing your grip, your crossed legs unraveling as you slid off, but the underside of your left leg caught the broom on your way down, which caused you to pull it painfully. As you tumbled you didn’t even scream while you internally panicked. Then, before you hit the ground, Malleus swooped in quickly on his broom, snatching you just before you hit the ground, losing his own balance on his broom and onto the ground. He wasn’t injured as bad as you would be since he was already riding low to catch you. His heart was hammering inside his chest as he held you tightly, shuttering quietly as he tried to calm himself.

“Y/N?” Malleus didn’t realize how shaky his voice was until he spoke. “Are you alright?”

You blinked at him and then looked down at your leg. It felt sore at the thigh and throbbed painfully. You didn’t understand what was wrong and decided to start crying. Malleus sat up with you in his lap and he was staring at you with a confused look on his face. Lilia, Sebek and Silver all came rushing over.

“WAKA-SAMA! ARE YOU ALRIGHT!?”

“I think you should be more concerned at the screaming child, Sebek.”

Lilia, who said nothing, came to your aid immediately with his fatherly instinct kicking into overdrive.

“Y/N, starlight, where does it hurt?” He asked, grabbing you from Malleus and lifting you up.

You could only sniffle and point to your thigh. He understood and cooed lightly at you. Malleus stood up and stepped forward to try and bring you back in his arms.

“Malleus?”

“I want to bring Y/N to bed. I can watch over them.” Malleus spoke, his arms out to grab you, which you looked ready to jump out of Lilia’s arms and into the arms of the dragon fae. Lilia was a bit worried about you, but figured you’d want to be with Malleus more than anything after what happened. He smiled gently and handed you off to Malleus, which you climbed to him sniffling and whimper as your leg throbbed. It wasn’t too bad as it would’ve been, but you definitely pulled something. Badly.

“YOURE SO GENEROUS WAKA-SAMA! ALL SHOULD TAKE INSPIRATION!”

“That’s all you’re seriously focused on Sebek?”

“…That’s not true, you know I am worried as well…”

Malleus, in a blink, brought you to your room and laid you in the bed, which was soft and top quality, only the best for you.

You sniffled again when you were set down in the bed by Malleus, the blankets pulled over your body. He didn’t mind that you were dirty, he just wanted to get you to bed immediately to rest.

“Mal-Mal…” You sniffled a little. “It hurts.”

“I understand, beastie.” Malleus sat down beside you and ran his fingers through your hair. “Hopefully it will be better in the morning. If not, I shall carry you.”

“Beckie won’t like that.”

“Beckie will have to understand.”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

True to his word, he carried you after you said it hurt even more today than it did yesterday. Lilia I as most please seeing Malleus carry you. It was amusing to see him carry you around since you were just a little baby (or at least he liked to believe you are.)

“Waka-sama, I don’t mean to question you, but do you believe it’s a good idea to carry Y/N around NCR?” Sebek had asked the morning before going to classes. “We can’t have you ruining your reputation!”

“Y/N will not ruin my reputation, Y/N is injured, so I shall carry them all throughout classes.”

“Be careful, Malleus, some might see you as soft.” Lilia grinned a little while fixing your uniform collar and tie.

“I do not care nor mind, Y/N matters more.” Ah, the priorities of a dragon at its finest.

“Whatever you say, lord Malleus.” Silver yawns as he straightened his tie.

Malleus looked down at you. You hadn’t even woken up after he picked you up once you finished dressing yourself, albeit messily. He’d wake you up, later of course, but it was nice seeing you rest and not in pain and talking about your hurting leg.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“…”

“Have something to say, Kingscholar?”

“I dunno, I’m still thinking this is a dream. A really weird one.”

Leona was currently watching you sit on the future fae kings lap eating mango slices from a bowl… it had to be a fever dream…

#x reader #twisted wonderland malleus #twisted wonderland azul #twisted wonderland riddle #twisted wonderland vil #twisted wonderland leona #twisted wonderland x you #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland kamil #twisted wonderland x reader #x reader platonic #fanfic

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eruverse · 6 months

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Another Ivan Braginsky headcanon

I keep perfecting my Ivan and I think this isn’t his final form yet but here it goes:

- Religion: none, but he’s no staunch atheist. He was a firm atheist during USSR era but these days he just doesn’t have ‘God in his daily life’ even though he keeps some superstitions and is respectful and even compliant of some Orthodox traditions during certain holidays. Some of his superstitions he developed on his own even, since he was a really sensitive child. Basically he doesn’t really think about it and is just a cultural observer.

- Sexuality: he just doesn’t think about it. Technically bi so he can get on with anyone and he has, but he thinks it’s useless for someone as old as he is to scrutinize one’s own sexuality very seriously. If he likes someone he’s either going to get it on or he’ll just suffer in silence, shit about sexuality. Is actually chill with any sexuality or kinks as long as it’s kept private — what he hates is the overt display of sexuality in public. Then he’ll start cursing ‘woke western culture’.

Regarding his romantic/sexual experiences: not as few as people think, not as many as people think. Neither prude nor promiscuous, but I would say those experiences tend to be on the more scarce end. He is not without drive but also isn’t desperate; can go a long time without sex. Contrary to popular belief, the USSR wasn’t his harem and he had probably the least sex out of all (or being one of the least promiscuous there). If sexual experiences are already scarce, the people who have ever been his actual lovers are even more so he probably can count them on one hand. Why? He is actually a distrustful person with a lot of paranoia so he hardly ever lets people in, though I would say, what he is even remotely desperate of is love (not necessarily romance though that is also nice). Therefore once he gets a lover he can stay committed for a long time, at least mentally if not technically. Ivan does not forget people and keeps dear ones close to his heart, and probably people who dislike him even closer.

- Contrary to popular belief, he doesn’t look that miserable from outside. Or at least, if you think he is miserable enough he actually has more of that stuff kept inside. He contemplates his misery through books and pieces of literature he pores into, or when he’s being insomniac and contemplating shits. Other than that though, he doesn’t really show it; most other people cannot understand anyway, or will start misunderstanding stuff.

- For him, those who can still bemoan fate are both privileged and still doing well enough actually. But those who are at the brink of it? They suddenly just, go. Ivan might not see the light at the end of tunnel nine times out of ten but he has life, life, life to go through. Life goes on regardless even if you’re miserable; Ivan is a person like this.

- Accent: is capable of speaking accent-less English but keeps using Russian accent and even emphasizing stresses bc it scares people. Especially because he is so huge it throws people off.

- I once said he was ‘insane’. But I then wrote him in fanfics and he came off mostly eccentric instead, at least from the outside. Basically tho, he wouldn’t just go off right off the bat and hit people or anything; he can, and he will if provoked enough, but mostly it’s just threats which he doesn’t follow through either because he’s a slob, because he means it to be empty, or because it’s just fun. But if you speak to him it’ll be pretty apparent he has some loose screws in his head indeed, especially if you’re close. He kind of thinks it’s just ‘normal human state’ to be having some loose screws tho.

- Morbid sense of humor and downright demented at times. He thinks it’s normal but also will tell these kind of jokes a lot because it creeps people out and he knows it. He likes those reactions.

- Ivan is a man of many layers, and often ppl cannot determine whether what they see is the real Ivan or what he wants to show. That’s if they’re not close; those close to him will be able to hazard better guesses, but sometimes they’ll also miss terribly. Why’s that? No one knows. Ivan looks both like someone who overthinks things and not think at all at the same time. Maybe there’s no difference between these two!

- Part of the many layers is just protection: Ivan doesn’t trust you and he doesn’t even trust himself. It’s also the case tho that what ppl think of himself is often so much cooler than what he actually is and thus he just goes with that (tho sometimes he’s annoyed because hey it’s Too Different).

- Resident troll (if that’s what people wish). Will lie or hide stuff (if you deserve it). But often he’ll lie just because he can. Everyone lies, what’s the difference? Things are bad, but they’re the same bad everywhere else.

- Is both better and worse at things people accuse him of doing/being. But what is true is that he is a slob.

- Lets problems grow and procrastinates on solving them. When they kick him in the ass, he solves them badly and feels betrayed by fate.

- Is actually pretty generous. Just unreliable af at times (either from mismanagement, misremembering, prioritizing the wrong things… all kinds of things)

- Has both deep insecurities and deep pride. Funny that these things usually exist at the same time in people! He both wants to be like others (to fit in, to be accepted) and only being ‘himself’ because there’s no other way. Being himself, being different, because he is rejected anyway, what’s the catch?

- Will quote Russian poems or pieces of literature during situations that call for it (will refrain from mentioning specific poems here bc that says more abt me than abt Ivan Braginsky lmao)

- He’s not visibly excited about kids though will totally have his own if he could, maybe just one tho. Totally envies humans, including the fact that they’re able to permanently die.

#hetalia #aph russia #hws russia #my heacanon

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blocksruinedme · 1 year

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About to go insane. Jimmy SolidarityGaming cannot catch a break in any of the series that he's in. Loser in Empire Smp. And as of yesterday, still a Loser in Life Series. And yet so many of us unconditionally adore him?

So last night, for reasons, I got into the shower to wash my hair at 3am, while decently intoxicated. While the water was heating up I looked at the mcc team list, and started thinking about Jimmy and mcc and the decisions he makes as a content creator and how he has to hustle because he doesn't have natural bonuses like "being good at minecraft" or "being booksmart" or "having a good memory". As I stepped into the shower almost said aloud "I'm worried people don't appreciate Jimmy enough." And wondered if I should go back a "Reasons Jimmy is Great #373-402" tumblr post.

But there I was just standing in the water in the middle of the night afraid[1] people don't appreciate Jimmy. I soooorta thought I would have chilled out about this (gorgeous) wet paper bag of a man with (charming) loser boy swag (and great comedic timing and a kind and loving personality and big heart) nine months later, but *apparently not*.

Anyway to address the ask - I like Jimmy winning things cause it makes him happy. It does not affect how much I adore him, because... I don't care about winning? I'm thinking about why.

I grew up in a Sports Household that was devoted to a team that has not made it out of the playoffs since... many decades. This both gives me "caring about winning is bother a sucker's game and setting yourself up for misery and meh" and "if you drop your team/blorbo because they haven't won in a couple decades, you're Not A Real Fan".

I am very competitive in some ways, but only a few really translate out of "I want to personally excel". This is hard, actually, to think about why I don't care when my first though was "but why would I care?"

Also coming in 40th at mcc makes the 1v3 dodgebolt wins so much sweeter

In the end what I care about is that I adored watching the Bad Boys and Jimmy had a blast. Would I have enjoyed him beating the curse? Yeah! Am I sad he looked so bummed? Well yes for sure. But my boy chose to be silly and jump off bridges *so many times*, I don't even want to count how many times he did it total. He made his bed, and he fell off a bridge into it.

Meanwhile Empires... yeah there's no "oh poor Jimmy" when the whole thing is what he wants. I listen to a lot of streams, mostly of him but also other people, and he's literally asking for it. fWhip once said it's because Jimmy's much more comfortable roleplaying/acting reactively, instead of coming up with the thing. He loves making his shocked faces and using his affronted voice, and he asks his friends to do things for him to react to.

PERSONALLY I'd love if they expanded Jimmy's empires reactions to be less about other PCs being mean to him, I'm hopeful that this fae can expand to a huge disaster where he's totally fucked but it's all by NPC/environment and his friends can help him. (As someone who used to play/run boffer LARP campaigns, it just feels SO larp. spouse and i sit around and point and shout about how we would do these things. 100% the reason i started going here was because last life felt like an awesome larp.)

So my love is unconditional because it's for a silly guy in London who loves his friends and minecraft, is kind to his fans, and makes me smile every single time I see him. If I'm sad, the best thing to do is put on the intro to any Jimmy stream or video, it's his big hello everybody! smile that warms my soul. He makes me happy and he makes me laugh and he could be the worst at everything and it would mean nothing. He is my blorbo, my special little boy, my wet paper bag of a man, and even my therapist thinks he has a good effect on my life. <3 <3 <3

...though I do hate watching him be inefficient at stardew valley, I don't play minecraft but i'm good at sdv and now I think I get the pain of watching him play minecraft. But I'm there for Jimmy, not the games. <3

[1] note: you do not have to appreciate Jimmy! It's fine. Trashed Vee really wants you to, and sober Vee thinks it makes life better to love Jimmy, but please don't take this post as weirder than it already is.

#just vee being crazy about jimmy again #solidaritygaming #solidgaming #jimmy solidarity #solidarity gaming #me #wet paper bag of a man #limited life spoilers #limited like smp #trafficblr #canary curse #empires smp #empires 2 #empires s2

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immortalbutterflycos · 17 hours

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For the WIP ask game:

💾What is your document of your wip/ a wip called? (not the stories actual title but what you’ve saved it as)

And:

❤️❤️❤️

Good morning~ (it's 8 am here when I'm writing this) I meant for this to be my first post of the day, but while trying to find the information I have, I found out that the summary section of Google Docs was deleted along with all of my "summaries" (which are, because my brain simply cannot function on a "normal" level, actually extensive plot notes that I now lost forever. Which is super cool~ ^.^ <3 Just another reason why I prefer to write on paper I guess...

Anyway, sorry about that, I'm not in a super fantastic mood rn.

BUT! To answer your question, unfortunately, I don't have an extremely fun one for this for the main fic that I've been working on. But that is primarily because I literally have -and I'm not kidding because I went back and counted them all- Ninety-nine docs relevant to this fic and I'm about to start on #100 because I just thought of a new plot point yesterday (that I thankfully wrote on paper since I was at work) and I need to give it a home.😂

And that is JUST for 'The Art of Running for Our Lives' (aka TAoRfOL since writing that title out every time is exhausting 😂)

I had to make a whole-ass Masterlist of docs with their links so that I could keep track of them and all of the titles are more spoilery than anything so that I know that what information I need to find will be in that doc before I click on it.

I started writing this fic in March, 2023 and I wish that I could tell you that this was all simple overkill, but I wish it was. It's not even posted yet but this plot has a grand total of 8 main characters and the AU I'm doing is so niche that I'm trying to merge magic systems (to an extent) and keeping track of timelines is wild in this one even without my ADHD getting in the way of things.

I'd say I do this because I hate myself, but this is very much a passion project and I really just want to do it the justice it deserves. 💜

That being said, I do have a few doc titles I'm willing to share because I think they're silly (I know, it took a WHILE to get here. Have I mentioned that I have really bad unregulated ADHD? 😂)

"TAoRfOL Cheat Sheet: [insert character name here]"

"James isn't doing well (TAoRfOL)"

"Post-[redacted] Dorlene Heist"

"I was in my feels..."

✨Bonus from other AU's:✨

"The cat distribution system but the cat is Regulus"

and finally,

"this was supposed to be smut how did I get here..?"

TL;DR: I have ADHD so there is no 1 specific doc for my fic. And also because I apparently need to dip my toes in every pond I find, (write too many fics/AUs at once), most of my docs are titled "[blank] AU" with a small description of the contents in the title.

Also apparently I can't give a simple answer to any of these ask games. Hope this is okay because I have no self-control and I'm very passionate about this fic.

#the marauders #the black brothers #jegulus #marauders era #starchaser #wolfstar #rosekiller #dorlene #regulus black #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #TAoRfOL #The Art of Running for Our Lives #WIP #ask game

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kiriona-apologist · 1 year

Note

🔥 For the Masquerade series

so this has....apparently become a hot take in the recent times but

i think that disliking the masquerade series for its tone is something that is perfectly acceptable, even if said person is in love with the locked tomb.

i've seen bits of this debate here and there, and while i understand where the baru defenders are coming from, i sympathize more with the locked tomb people (and not just because i love the locked tomb!)

i baru post a lot. i've answered an ask about baru where the person asked me to give a recommendation for it based on liking the locked tomb. i gave my honest opinion there, and in tags elsewhere: recommending these series next to each other without appropriately warning the reader about the darker tone, themes, and narrative of baru is not only rude, it's negligent.

while i understand that tone does not a book make, it is also vital to a narrative, and i believe that baru and tlt differ greatly in tone, and that should be disclosed from the outset.

i don't have the post saved (and if i did, i wouldn't want to specifically call someone out anyway) but i saw someone sarcastically saying that "of course tone is more important than the similarities on a narrative level" (not a direct quote), as if tlt and baru are really that similar on a narrative level.

these are, of course, my opinions but i don't think they're similar narratively unless you count the most basic premise of "queer protagonist against imperialism". here's the thing (at the risk of being wrong on the internet)

The locked tomb is not focused solely on the Empire at a systemic level until bits of the second book and more dominantly the third book. Are there elements early on? yes. are they in your face, immediately relevant or a key aspect of the narrative, especially on a first read through? no! Baru kicks off with it. tlt's empire is not graphically homophobic. Baru's is, and it is fundamental to both her character and pieces of the narrative.

They're similar in the chivalrous figure dying at the end of the first book, they're similar in the weird brain stuff, in some of the weird bits, but at a fundamental level, Muir and Dickinson are telling stories of empire in different ways at different levels. Baru hates the Empire from the outset, is constantly working against it while she's working for it. Harrow and Gideon are not like this from the outset, and because those are the central characters for the opening two books, not the BoE, not the other Lyctors, it does change the narrative. resistance to the mechanisms of empire in tlt is not the focus from the outset (but definitely becomes more important as the larger story unfolds and we move outside the bubble of the nine houses)!

I understand the urge to defend Baru when people from the locked tomb fandom do read it on recommendation of it being similar to tlt and end up disliking it for how dark it is. i understand wanting the narrative to be spread despite how graphic it is, partially because that is the reality for a lot of people. i wholly acknowledge i'm speaking from a place of privilege in terms of violent homophobia like baru faces and as an american in a world that has been colonized by america and other wealthy nations, so i cannot fully identify with baru as a protagonist or those who associate on a deep level with her. if you do, i'm not saying that's bad or that you shouldn't recommend the book! i do, but i do so always with the caveat that it's dark and graphic and that the narrative is heavily centered in this darkness.

i think the masquerade series is a valuable series, but i think recommending it to locked tomb enjoyers and expecting them to love it because they love the locked tomb (and especially the critique of colonization that muir is building) or hounding on locked tomb enjoyers for not liking baru because of how graphic and violent it is can be uncomfortable and potentially triggering for a lot of people. tone is not everything, but it is key to enjoyment, and questioning why books are lumped together the way they are can be beneficial.

i remember finishing tyrant and reading the author's note dickinson left, where they state they're not sure when they'll finish the fourth book because the series is draining to write. i remember sympathizing to that, because reading it is draining. i mowed through the locked tomb books in a matter of days. each baru book took me months. the depth of the locked tomb is there i'm not saying it isn't, but baru's is like a painfully gaping wound from the outset, where tlt keeps it hidden until near the end of the first book

i'll end here by saying that both of these series are dear to my heart, and both sit in my top five favorite series of all time. i understand the urge to defend baru, who feels like an underdog compared to the largely more popular tlt, i tend to do it all the time. i do think, though, the conversation surrounding these two series and how they relate to each other can be better and more productive, and generally more generative in discussions of current advertising practices of "book similar to x book, so you'll like book!"

#i'm so sorry anon you didn't ask for an essay #but i'm tired of seeing my two favorite fandoms fighting ya know #i think the gut punch reaction to defend baru at all costs can come at the expense of recognizing tone does matter when reading #and that disclaiming some of the triggering material is probably best practice when it comes to both of these tbh #anon #ask #the locked tomb #baru cormorant #the masquerade series #tlt #really praying this does not get me yelled at because i really do love both of these series and they've fundamentally changed me #for the better i think

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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 1 year

Text

𓅨 Falling Stardust: Chapter Ten

Falling Stardust: You, an innocent and naive fallen star, tumble out of Morpheus’s cloak and get wrapped up in his possessive and dark love.

Warnings: Astra Does NOT Understand What Sex Is, Okay?, Explicit Language, Dubious Explicit Material (Unprotected Sex is a No No), Manipulation.

To Note: Dark!Morpheus x FemStar!Reader (Reader is Named Astra).

Word Count: ~2.2k

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Morpheus was on cloud nine. Or at least, the Endless equivalent. It had taken time to get you here. He had to nurture your trust, repair your broken spirit, mend your pained heart. But you were finally here, naked and stretched out in the confines of his personal quarters within the palace. You, his beautiful star that had regretfully fallen from his own coat, were finally within his grasp for the taking… and take you he would.

He had already pulled pleasure from your body with his tongue, tasted your ecstasy, and devoured your sweet and star dusted nectar. Morpheus had also the pleasure of running his hands along your beautifully sculpted body, appreciating how masterful your physical body had been made. You deserved nothing but the best after being stolen from your cradle. Morpheus ran his hands down your sides, appreciating how your skin felt beneath his fingers while his eyes soaked into your heat flushed cheeks. You had looked so beautiful washed with pleasure when he had feasted upon your flesh, he could only imagine what you would look like when he was within you.

Not to mention what you would feel like wrapped around his cock. His own physical body was hurting, aching to have you wrapped around him. To have your heat enveloping his cock. Squeezing him. Morpheus’s eyes started to glow silver, his need to fill you, feel you, clawing at his restraint.

“I have desired no one like I have desired you,” Morpheus murmured, leaning down and pressing his lips against your jaw and neck. The low moan that flowed from your throat was thick and any response you might have to his words failed to form. Your body squirmed against his clothed one, you still felt unbearably hot and needed something softer than the jean and jacket rubbing against your bare skin. You whimpered once more as teeth scraped against your pulse and raised a hand to grasp his hair.

“Morpheus,” You whispered, your legs still shaking from his earlier lavishing. He closed his eyes, memorizing the way you said his name. He could feel the way to you trembled against him, the way your body shook with need. It wanted to be loved.

“Forgive me for making you wait, my queen, I cannot stop myself from stealing time to enjoy that which you grace me with.” He murmured, trailing his fingers up your neck to cradle your head. “Shall we continue then, beloved?”

Continue?

Your confusion was apparent and Morpheus found it endearing. Eyes sparkling with possessive intent, a smirk was soon spreading across his lips

“Relax for me, my star,” Morpheus urged you, melting his clothes away and pressing his body against yours. Your eyes went wide. Of course it was nice to have his skin against yours now, it felt much nicer on your inflamed skin. You wiggled around, desperate to feel more of his skin on yours, as it felt very nice. Naturally, this only made Morpheus groan as your body pressed and rubbed against his. So with barely abated eagerness, he allowed his fingers to crawl across your stomach to the flesh between your legs. You squeaked out at the sudden explosion of sensation from your already sensitive flesh and twisted, your hands reaching up to push at Morpheus’s shoulders.

“Morpheus, please, I feel much too—“ A hand came up and closed around your throat, not squeezing, but catching you off guard. Your obsidian haired king did not speak as his hand rested upon your jaw in warning. Then you felt his fingers stroking through your folds, but on for a few moments. Your eyes went wide when a finger pushed into your body. Back arching, your body pressed in Morpheus’s while you let out the most beautiful sound Morpheus had ever heard.

Heat flooded your cheeks and your nails scraped his shoulder. This was more than what you were expecting and you didn’t know what to think of it. Morpheus kissed his way along your jaw, then his brilliant eyes met yours. All he had was one finger in your cunt and you were quivering around him, squeezing the digit with cheeks ablaze. Then he drew his fingertip along your inner walls, stroking your hot flesh and taking pleasure in how your eyes went round.

“Wh-what,” You struggled to get out words, nails sinking into white flesh and pressing harder with each passing second. “Morpheus, I do not understand, why—“ He shushed you, kissing you several times, slowly, catching your lip with his teeth before tangling his tongue with yours. Whining against Morpheus’s mouth, your hips bucked against the hand stroking your body in deft movements.

Morpheus, pleased with how easily his finger seemed to glide into your cunt now, stroked your walls with his envy. Gods he wished it was his cock that was plunging in and out of your celestial heat right now, wrapped up in heavenly warmth that he would end civilizations to keep. But even with his selfish desire to have you all to himself, he refused to cause you an unnecessary pain and would not hurry a reverent activity such as this. He would not deprive himself the pleasure of taking all the time in the universe to indulge in your bodily delight.

Your entire body was shaking violently as you clawed at the sheets beneath your body. Morpheus was being rather cruel with his adoration, you felt. Not in that he was hurting you, but you were struggling to keep up with all the cosmic and persuasive bliss that he constantly demanded from your body. No. Demand wasn’t the proper word. Begged, perhaps? Morpheus made it seem like you were rewarding him with your pleasure, like he was feasting off your sweetness like it was something incredibly rare. Unconsciously, you raised a hand upwards and pressed it against Morpheus’s shoulder while trying to twist your pelvis away from his fingers assaulting your body.

You had reached the point where you couldn’t take it anymore. Not the way his fingers repeatedly plunged within your body, stroking you from within and curling around flesh that had been derived from the purest of cosmic stardust. Not the way his fingers stretched your body until you felt a kiss of strain and even pain. It was just too much and you had-had enough. So you pushed at Morpheus, trying to wiggle yourself away. That was a grave mistake.

The hand on your throat migrated, quickly moving across your collar bones and sharply taking your wrist. Your nails were pulled away from snowy skin and your wrist was pressed against soft sheets next to your head. Breath catching in your throat, you stared into Morpheus’s eyes as he pinned you down. Anger was burning within his eyes, highlighted by argentium and stars, and fear flickered through your body. You were still pulling away, but confusion and question broiled within your eyes so Morpheus couldn’t fault you… but he was done answering questions and reassuring your confusion. You asked too much at this pivotal moment.

“You need not be in confusion any longer, my love, for I shall guide your way for eternity,” Morpheus murmured shortly before releasing one of your wrists and grabbing your trembling thigh. Your legs were pushed apart and grunting softly as a rush of sensation flourished within your body, you were caught off guard when something nudged your overly sensitive folds. Eyes wide, your stared into Morpheus’s intense gaze for but a few moments before an invading pressure combined with pain burned in your body. A whimper slipped from your lips and you froze in place.

Morpheus stroked your face once more, whispering soft words of old. You felt better than he could ever dream of, so warm, so comforting, and so impossibly tight that Morpheus felt as if the cosmos were wrapped around him. You felt truly divine and he knew that you would be all he needed for eternity. At your heavy breathing mixed with pain filled whimpers, Morpheus kissed your jaw and nuzzled your tender skin. You were trying your best not to cry, but the stinging sensation you felt was uncomfortable, painful, and you didn’t like it. You were in the process of taking in another gulp of air when the pressure within your body withdrew.

For a moment you thought that was the end of it, but then it appeared again, driving deep in your body with a resounding sting. You let out a yelp and dug your nails into Morpheus’s shoulder. Lips brushed against your neck to your ear.

“You must relax my star,” He purred, kissing the tender skin of your neck, slowly thrusting into your cunt with care for he hated to cause you pain. Loathed it. But it was unavoidable and wouldn’t happen again, not with his hunger for you. You were going to quickly become accustomed to his fervent love and need for physical affection and contact. Morpheus gripped your waist and dragged your body to crash against his with every thrust. Lips opened as you drew in ragged breaths, your eyes widened when your lords movements became smoother, with less resistance. On your next breath, a sweet moan left your parted lips.

Morpheus happily growled, allowing his mouth to repeatedly lavish your tender skin until color bloomed. The hand he had on your waist palmed across your waist, eager and hungry, stroked your stardust skin and unconsciously followed the silver lines on your body. He would do anything to hear that honeyed sound again, see the pleasure upon your lovely face. So he pushed back your hair from your face and stared down at your star sculpted features. Every time he thrust his cock into your body, pushing himself deep into your cosmic heat, you shuddered and softly squeaked.

He could see the heat boiling beneath your skin, washing through your body and spreading pleasure to every molecule of your gorgeous being. Whimpering again, you clawed your nails into Morpheus shoulder and clenched your shaking legs around his waist. Whatever you were doing, you must be doing something right, because the happiness exuding from your lord was almost blinding. You cried out and threw your head back when a sharp burst of pleasure from within your cunt nearly made it impossible to breathe. This time your nails dug into Morpheus’s back, clawing deep lines of red. Your eyes were glossed over and glimmered with cosmos, your body once more pushing at your mental capacity to hold in that urge to let go.

Writhing against Morpheus’s body, you bucked against Morpheus’s pelvis wanting relief from the mind shattering ecstasy blazing a path through your body. You buried your hand in his hair, yanking on the midnight strands, viciously dug your nails into his back in an attempt to claw what you were feeling away… nothing you did worked. Morpheus was more than pleased with your reactions, drunk on your ecstasy and thirsting for more of your soft cries and clenching muscles. Your swollen flesh that he had waited so patiently for, was rippling around his cock, trembling beneath his body. With another sweet cry, your back arched as you began trembling violently, once more on the cusp of agonizing pleasure. One more calculated thrust and you were spasming beneath him, eyelashes fluttering and throated hollowed out as you gasped sharply.

Blazing silver eyed stared into the star spark deep within your body and watched as it brightly flickered from your pleasure. Wrapping his arms around your body, Morpheus pulled your body up against his and pumped into you for but a few moments more, before finding his own release. You whimpered and jerked within his embrace, gasping as a new heat burned within your body and sparked to life more pleasure. Morpheus closed his eyes, making sure to not allow his full weight to drop upon your precious body while he basked in pleasure.

You were overwhelmed and could only lie limp in his grasp, shuddering and breathing heavily. Morpheus bowed his head and gently placed kisses against your breasts and along your neck, praising you, bestowing you with innumerous regale. You were so beautiful, so perfect, Morpheus could hardly believe that the glimmering star that had once resided within his coat, now lay within his arms. His lips continued to prowl across your skin, ravenous for you and trying to sate an endless amount of ardor he held for you. Softly moaning, you shifted in place, not able to stop the brief wince from your body protesting what was still sheathed deep within you. Morpheus shushed you.

“You have performed so beautiful, my Astra,” He purred against your breasts, nuzzling the soft flesh and longing to see them filled with milk one day. You would be the most beautiful mother, he knew it. Round and shimmering. Morpheus looked forwards to the day he could hold you, stroke your rounded stomach, see the physical evidence of your combined love. As he slipped his cock from your celestial body, lamenting the loss of heat, Morpheus stroked your face and held you close. The proof of your innocence lay smeared on your inner thighs, and the Endless found the sight of his seed oozing from your body one he would never tire of.

Date Published: 3/22/23

Last Edit: 4/4/23

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#morpheus #morpheus x reader #lord morpheus #sandman x reader #the sandman x reader #the sandman netflix #the sandman #dream of the endless x reader #dream the endless x reader #dream x reader #dream of the endless #dream the endless

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s-leary · 2 years

Text

Things I am having trouble with:

the cable company, who seem to think it’s fine to knock out my service on a Friday night and mosey over to fix it on Tuesday, if I’m lucky, for the seventh or eighth time this year, I’ve lost count

my tax return, which I’m filing late, but it won’t go in because someone else has apparently claimed my son’s SSN as their dependent (it’s not my ex, I checked)

the school bus, which the district insists can’t possibly come down our one-way street and use the giant fucking turnaround in front of my building and is instead making my son walk a quarter mile, and the lack of any after-school program that has transportation from my son’s school, and only his school out of all the ones in the district

also the school district declaring random staff work days when I don’t have time off at the new job yet, so that’ll be fun tomorrow when I’m supposed to be working online with no internet and a bored kid at home

a new doctor that doesn’t take my insurance

a business payment gateway that isn’t letting me get paid for my very last freelance job

a broken office chair for which I have the parts and the tools but cannot get said tools to work on the specific part that needs replacing

three places I need to run errands that are only open during the hours I work, including the only place in town where I can buy a new office chair

a lost credit card I’ve called to have replaced three times that is evidently being delivered to the correct address in an alternate dimension

a bunch of broken stuff around the house that I can’t fix until I can donate several large piles of crap in the garage, because there is no room to work, and I could be storing crap in my attic except the cable wire is strung taut directly over the hatch so you can’t get boxes (or an adult human) up there, which brings me back around to the cable company, only I can’t fix that without coordinating with the owners of the other three units in this building, one of whom is a landlord who lives out of town, because the cable is strung through all our attics in sequence

guess what times the donation people are open

I am nine levels deep in executive dysfunction hell, and I need about twelve hours of a competent adult’s time. But fixing this shit involves so much of my personal data that I’d need the Men in Black memory zapper afterward.

#executive dysfunction #adhd #single parenting #I just need one goddamn thing to be a little bit easier

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aprill-99 · 2 years

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Can I get some people to read the book “Saffy’s Angel” and the Casson Family series by Hillary McKay this year? Purely because I would like to talk to some people about it sometimes and my family are the only ones I know who have read it. Some bullet points to entice you in:

1. It’s an amazing family story, both found and biological. The kids all drag in their friends to be part of the household and never look back. Not unlike the vibe in the Bridgerton books in that regard which is apparently what I look for in fictional families

2. The whole family of children is named after paint colors and each book changes to focus on the POV of a different sibling

3. The writing is lovely and funny and comforting

4. The audiobooks are lovely too!

A Quote from each book in order:

1. Saffy’s Angel

“It will be so sad."

"You have to be sad sometimes," said Caddy. "Whatever Dad says. He may be right. Granddad probably had totally lost his marbles, but I am still sad and I'm still going to the funeral. I shall be as unhappy as I like and I shall where black.”

“You’ve all been walking past me for years and years.”

“Is that why you ran me over with your wheelchair?”

“Not saying a word.”

“Is that why?”

“Without even looking at me.”

“I didn’t think it was an accident.”

2. Indigo’s Star

“If you were a Casson family member, for example, and Eve drifted in from the shed asking, "Food? Any ideas? Or shall we not bother?" then you either joined in the search of the kitchen cupboards or counted the money in the housekeeping jam jar and calculated how many pizzas you could afford. Also, if you were a family member you took care of Rose, helped with homework (Saffron and Sarah were very strict about homework), unloaded the washing machine, learned to fold up Sarah's wheelchair, hunted for car keys, and kept up the hopeful theory that in the event of a crisis Bill Casson would disengage himself from his artistic life in London and rush home to help.”

3. Permanent Rose

“It had not seemed to matter that Rose was only eight years old.

"More than eight," said Rose. "Nearly nine."

"Darling Rose, even almost nearly nine-year-old's don't fall in love," said forgetful Caddy.

"Who said anything about falling in love?" growled Rose crossly. "Falling! Falling is by accident! I didn't fall in anything!"

4. Caddy Ever After

“This is how I do special.”

“How can I give you nothing? Do you seriously expect me to buy nothing, wrap up nothing, stick a gift tag on nothing, send a card saying I really hope you like your nothing and lie awake worrying that the nothing I got you was the right color nothing you always anted? Have a heart!”

5. Forever Rose

“‘Rose,' he said. 'I suddenly feel old. I did not realize how the years had gone by. Do not try to look sympathetic because you cannot possibly understand.'

Yes, I can. I have just spent a week with Class 1 and they are like people from another plane, but really they are just me, five years ago. Indigo and Saffy and Sarah and Caddy have changed too. They are turning into the sort of people I used to call Grown Up and I cannot stop them, although I would if I could. I would slow them down, anyway. Sometimes I want to shout, 'Wait for me! Wait for me!'

Like I did when I was little and they walked too fast.

They always slowed down back then, however much of a hurry they were in, but I do not think they can turn back now.

So I do understand.”

“School is no longer a peaceful place where you can catch up on your daydreaming, forget your family ( or what is left of your family) and talk about things like Dr. Who and how to stop GLobal Warming (we all know how but we don't stop it) and if it is okay for boys to wear pink and all those other things we talk about.”

6. Caddy’s World - (Prequel)

“The genie was at work again, and soon Caddy’s world would be set spinning once again.”

#book recommendations #book reccs #saffys angel #permanent rose #the casson family #indigos star #caddy ever after #long post #quotes #book quotes #please please someone else get in to this #i just want to read #I just want to rant #found family #all the good tropes #positive disabled representation in a novel

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visceravalentines · 2 years

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hey, heard youre an embalmer. Im apprenticing currently and we just had our worst case yet. Even my preceptor said she'd never had one like this. How do you deal with severe cases like that? I'm not struggling emotionally really, but more viscerally. Like, I've barely started in the industry but I already feel burnt out. He took 8 hours over two days to embalm on top of restorative art and cosmetizing/dressing/casketing. Jeez I know she said it was a one-in-your-career case but apparently they are also becoming more common,,,,,

Oh my friend. I know that feeling. I've never had one that severe, but I remember some nine-hour autopsy embalmings when I was brand new and so desperate to do a good job on my own. That exhaustion after you throw everything but the kitchen sink at it and still don't get the results you want.

This got long but I stand by it so here's the cut, I'm long-winded as fuck okay bye.

There's a couple things you have to remember, and it can be hard to remember them all at once: 1. There is only so much you can do. So many things are out of our control. 2. If anything can be done, or someone is asking you to try, you are the one to do it. It's your responsibility. You're the professional. 3. At the end of the day, if you gave it everything you had, you cannot ask more of yourself.

Is this your first bad one? I promise you, they will not all be like that. And there may be some that are worse in some ways. You will not always be able to perform a miracle. What matters is that you try. It's a balancing act, because you are putting in all that time and effort in the hopes you can make a difference for that family. And at the same time, you cannot rely on their gratitude or catharsis or understanding as the payoff. You truly have to find satisfaction in your own efforts, in the fact that you know you gave it your all, because that's the only thing you can count on.

And please please please, if this one does not go well in the end, do not let that keep you down. I remember the first time I realized that there was truly nothing I could do to make the situation any better for the family. It was the most hopeless, helpless feeling I had ever experienced. But I did my best. I did everything I could. And when it was over, I took it as a learning opportunity, and it made me a better director. And I moved on to the next one, because there is always a next one.

The burnout is real. I am in burnout recovery right now! This profession is a burnout machine. I would love to chat with you more about it if you'd like, feel free to message me.

Take care of yourself. Treat the fuck out of yourself after battles like that. I and several of my colleagues are big fans of alcoholic drinks in the shower. You put wine in a thermos so it stays cold and you lean against that wall and you just be. It's wonderful and a long hot shower clears out the formaldehyde from your respiratory tract.

Our job is to try. To be there when no one else wants to be. To be inconvenienced and frustrated. You're working so hard and I see you and your preceptor sees you and hopefully that family sees the love and compassion you put into your efforts. And even if they don't see it because they are so overwhelmed right now, you know it's there. And sometimes that's all you can ask for.

#asks #bubblegumjudas #just mortician things

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cryptid-deity · 2 years

Text

August 19 Entry Summarized

Seward reports on the night of August 18. Around eight o’clock, Renfield started to act different from usual; he became excited and started to sniff around as if having caught a scent. When the attendant tried to talk with him, Renfield responded: ‘I don’t want to talk to you: you don’t count now; the Master is at hand.’

At nine o’clock, Seward went to check on him himself. Renfield acted just as dismissively towards him. In the following half hour, Renfield got more and more excited, until he suddenly sat down quietly on the edge of his bed, staring ahead of him “with lacklustre eyes”. Seward tried to engage with him by asking about his animals, but Renfield’s response was: ‘Bother them all! I don’t care a pin about them.’ When Seward expressed his surprise over this change of attitude, Renfield said: ‘The bride-maidens rejoice the eyes that wait the coming of the bride; but when the bride is draweth nigh, then the maidens shine not to the eyes that are filled.’ He didn’t talk anymore after that. After a while, Seward decided to go to bed. (Drug mention:)

I am weary tonight and low in spirits. I cannot but think of Lucy, and how different things might have been. If I don’t sleep at once, chloral, the modern Morpheus - C2HCl3O.H2O! I must be careful not to let it grow into a habit. No, I shall take none tonight! I have thought of Lucy, and I shall not dishonour her by mixing the two. If need be, tonight shall be sleepless...

Seward continues his phonographic diary to report that he was called by the night-watchman at around two o’clock, who said that Renfield was no longer in his room. Seward threw on his clothes and met the attendant downstairs, who told him the story:

His attention was called by the sound of the window being wretched out. He ran back and saw his feet disappear through the window, and had at once sent up for me. He was only in his night-gear, and cannot be far off. The attendant thought it would be more useful to watch where he should go than to follow him, as he might lose sight of him whilst getting out of the building by the door. He is a bulky man, and couldn’t get through the window. I am thin, so, with his aid, I got out, but feet foremost, and, as we were only a few feet above ground, landed unhurt. The attendant told me [Renfield] had gone to the left and taken a straight line, so I ran as quickly as I could. As I got through the belt of trees I saw a white figure scale the high wall which separates our grounds from those of the deserted house.

Seward ran back and told the watchman to get three or four men to possibly help him bring Renfield back. He also got himself a ladder and used it to climb the wall.

I could see Renfield’s figure just disappearing behind the angle of the house, so I ran after him. On the far side of the house I found him pressed close against the old iron-bound oak door of the chapel. He was talking, apparently to someone, but I was afraid to go near enough to hear what he was saying, lest I might frighten him, and he should run off. [...] After a few minutes, however, I could see that he did not take note of anything around him, and so ventured to draw nearer to him[.] I heard him say: ‘I am here to do Your bidding, Master. I am Your slave, and You will reward me, for I shall be faithful. I have worshipped You long and afar off. Now that You are near, I await Your commands, and You will not pass me by, will You, dear Master, in Your distribution of good things?’

Seward describes getting Renfield back to their building.

Just now he spoke coherent words for the first time [since being back]: ‘I shall be patient, Master. It is coming - coming - coming!’ So I took the hint, and came too. I was too excited to sleep, but this diary has quieted me, and I feel I shall get some sleep tonight.

#dracula daily #dracula censored

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greenbagjosh · 11 months

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13 + 14 June 1998 - HRH the Queen’s 72nd Birthday and the cringeworthy Donald Duck joke

Originally written in June 2018

Hi everyone,

Hope you are having a nice evening.Twenty years ago today and tomorrow, I went on the cheapest path from Munich to Prague. And came back the next day almost 11 PM. Saturday the 13th June 1998, it was a few days before the start of the 1998 FIFA World Cup. Widgetmeister International had two paid days off officially, namely Fronleichnam for Thursday the 11th, and Friday the 12th. Neither day counted against my vacation balance. On Thursday I did a bit of exploring on the S-8 line from Englschalking up to the Franz Josef Strauss airport, known also by its airport code "MUC". The Schönes Wochenende ticket would not be valid as it was a Thursday so I bought a ticket for the outer zones of the MVV-München transit area that were otherwise not covered by my month pass. It was raining so there was not much to see. At the time, there was also an expansion project for the S-1 train, instead of all trains going to Neufahrn and Freising, some S-1 trains would also go to the airport. This was called the "Neufahrner Spange".

Friday the 12 June was a shopping day. I bought myself a Czech language guide. Czech is not exactly romanized Russian. For that reason, it is a good idea to have a Czech language book.Saturday the 13 June arrived. I had to be at München Hbf by 7:10 AM to catch the train to Plattling, and it left from the "short-haul" track 25. On the German rail side, this was the only known electrified section. On Saturday *and* Sunday, the Schönes Wochenende Ticket was valid, and for only 35 Mark. The train stopped at Freising, Landshut and Landau on the Isar before arriving at Plattling about 9 AM. About 9:05 AM, a diesel unit went on to the border at Bayerisch Eisenstein. This train really went through the backwoods, made about nine stops about ten minutes from each other. The train did not arrive in Bayerisch Eisenstein until 10:13 AM. So what was at Bayerisch Eisenstein? It was a border town on the German side, and right at the same station was the Czech border, known as Železná Ruda-Alžbětín. You had to have your passport ready for stamping back then as the Czech Republic was neither in the European Union nor a Schengen member. Also, then as now, they did not use the Euro. So changing money was necessary. I think the exchange rate then was 21 Koruna to 1 DM. The smallest coin was the 10 Heller, then the 20 and 50 Heller, then 1 Koruna, 2 Koruna, 5, 10 and so on. Bills were 20, 50, 100, 200, 500. Please refer to XE.com in case I cannot otherwise provide an equivalent in Dollars, Mark or Euro. Back then the Czech Republic was inexpensive compared to Germany. Even the train fare. But somehow you get what you pay for, likely in speed and comfort.I bought a single fare ticket to Prague at the Zelezna Ruda station on the Czech side, paying in Koruna. I think it was 75 Koruna then, as today it costs 110 Koruna.

The train left about 11:08 AM, and arrived in Plzen about 1:10 PM. For a distance of 60 miles, it must have gone an average of 30 mph, unelectrified, windy and slow up to Klatovy, and then fairly straight, medium-fast and electrified the rest of the way. Plzen Hlavní Nádrazí (central station) has an interesting dome. At Plzen, I made a quick shopping journey to a grocery store along Americká called the Maxi Hit. I bought some beer and Slivovitz - the real good plum brandy.

When I arrived back at the Plzen station, I found that the regular train to Prague was delayed. I had my radio with me, and there was a BBC English broadcast on. Apparently it was Queen Elizabeth's birthday and they did a short tribute. Later in the broadcast, one joke that they told was "Why did Donald Duck? Because someone was shooting at him"

I think the train to Prague arrived around 3 PM. It went as far as Prague Smichov. The conductor on the train gestured at me, to take the subway to the town center. I bought a 24 hour subway/bus ticket, I think for 70 Koruna, and stamped it at Smíchovské nádrazí, and went to my hostel at Karlovo námestí and on the street Na Zborencí. Back then it was owned by the Czech chapter of Hostelling International. Google maps still shows the big "Na Zborenci" sign in the alleyway where it remains. The room was cheap but there was no breakfast served on Sundays. And, I would find out later, that the room I was in, was co-ed, something I was not used to in a dorm room in a hostel.

I dropped off my luggage at my bedside in the hostel, then took the subway at Karlovo Namesti to Staromestska, the old part of Prague, changing at Mustek. At Staromestska is the clock tower, the Chram Matky, and next door is the Josefov, the Jewish Quarter. The museums were closed that day so I could only walk around. I returned in 2006 to visit one of the synagogues and I still have the kippa. I took the Metro across the Vlatva river, and took a tram to Malostranské náměstí, the west side of Charles Bridge. It is a strictly pedestrian bridge, apparently a popular tourist attraction in itself. I have a selfie of being on that bridge in a red and white sweater, as Prague was a bit chilly, around the low 60s for temperatures. When I arrived on the east side, I found a store that sold hats, and that is where I bought that red-white-and-green striped hat. I think it is about a foot high, and yes, it is probably the silliest hat I ever owned. On 24th July 1998 I took a selfie of myself, yes, with that hat! I did not know blacklight theater back in 1998, though my next visit February 2006 I went to a show - albeit medicated - at the Image Black Light Theater, was very interesting and in the back rows it was optically amazing.

I was hungry and then looked for a place to have supper. Closer to the clock tower, the offers were a bit out of my price range. So I went to Staromestska. There was an interesting restaurant called the "Studentska Satlava" or "Student Jail". Apparently it was in the same building as where the writer Franz Kafka was born. They had excellent deals for supper, including dark locally produced beer. I had the sausage, chop and dumpling plate. Gosh that was good. Once that was done, I took the metro back to Karlovo Namesti, and went to bed. In the morning I had to check out, take my luggage to Karlovo Namesti and further on to Hlavni Nadrazi. I had a quick breakfast at what is now the CrossCafe. There were lockers in Hlavni Nadrazi to place luggage. Lockers were interesting as you could choose the combination with four dials. You would retrieve your luggage by picking the same dial positions.

I had not been to Vysehrad. There is a canyon between Vysehrad and I P Pavlova and the metro travels along the auto bridge. At Vysehrad there is a good view of Prague, also the Police Museum. I went shopping at the Budejovicka shopping center. It was open on Sunday, bought peanut flips, beer and slivovitz at the store because it was so cheap. I took the metro to I P Pavlova and a tram back to Staromestska, bearing in mind that I had to return to Hlavni Nadrazi by 12:30 to catch the train to Munich through Plzen, Zelezna Ruda, Bayerisch Eisenstein, and Plattling. I bought a ticket to Zelezna Ruda.

At 1 PM, the train left Praha Hlavni Nadrazi. I was in a second class compartment, where there were eight seats to a compartment, four on each side. In Germany, normally the same size would be for just six people in total. The compartment was not air conditioned, and it was okay as the temperatures were not expected to exceed the mid 70s that day. The train ride went without any extraordinary event up to Plzen. I had to find a post office to send a postcard, and I almost missed the connection from Plzen to Klatovy and Zelezna Ruda. At Klatovy I had to change to a very old diesel carriage, class 131, and to open the windows, you had to crank them up or down.

By the time the train reached Zelezna Ruda, about 6:50 PM, the lady at the sales hut was about to close. I made a few last minute purchases before crossing into Germany. The snack bar was crummy on the German side at Bayerisch Eisenstein so I thought I would wait until I arrived at Plattling for some food. Did not work out too well. The German customs stamped my passport and did not look at my bag of slivovitz and beer. The diesel train from Bayerisch Eisenstein arrived at Plattling about 8:45 PM, and there was not much time to get anything of value at the snack bar there.

The train to Munich arrived around 9:30 so I had to take my snack to go. The sun was about to set, and it was raining in the distance. In the sky was an interesting effect. I arrived home in Munich around 11 PM, I entered very quietly. I was not told about any alarm clock issues (see w/e 31 July - 2 August 1998), and the next morning I went to work on time, and at lunch I had some interesting stories to tell my work colleagues and I mentioned the striped hat.

Next adventure, Salzburg and the Berchtesgaden Salzbergwerk, weekend of 20th and 21st June 1998. Servus und Gute Nacht!

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media-illiterate · 2 years

Note

👁👁 I wish to know more about how FEV effects your OCs. Blab about science please?

@roseyturtles Thank you for asking about my FEV ocs, Dave and Eliza! I ported them into fallout from an original work that sadly is never going to get made ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ so that informs a lot of their weirdness. They both got frozen in vault 111, Dave got snatched by the Institute so they could check out his genetics, escaped, and ended up fleeing to the west coast because he does not know WHERE he was frozen. Eliza ends up being woken up with the Sole Survivor and has a truly terrible time figuring out what the fuck is going on.

This WILL get long so I'll try and put a readmore on it.

So the thing about Dave and Eliza is that they're technically pre-FEV, pre-war mutants! They are from a program that was attempting to grow super-soldiers, which failed because the process was Extremely Finicky. They tried to make several hundred and successfully got... 2. The military started Project Immunity after they were born to try and find a way to apply their bespoke genetic code to others. After several revisions FEV was the outcome! That's why I count them as FEV mutants, they've got the same genetic fuckery going on.

Anyway, without further ado: the list of genetic fuckery!

- Enhanced Strength: like supermutants they've got enhanced strength via muscle and bone density increases! Since they've had it since birth they didn't turn into muscle hulks like what happens when you dump someone into a vat of raw FEV. They aren't quite as strong as supermutants but they ARE in the same ballpark! Like, they can get in a fistfight with one and it's not pathetic, y’know?

-FEV Radiation/Pathogen Immunity: like supermutants they are more or less unharmed by ambient radiation, and cannot get sick. They have never, in their entire lives, gotten a cold. (Eliza gets bit by a mole rat in vault 81 and gets the sniffles for a week. She freaks out the entire time)

-FEV Immortality: they do have the same cellular immortality that supermutants have, meaning the really don't age. Once they hit their late twenties they just... kinda stop aging. Like supermutants it's unknown what their actual lifespan is. (Dave had like. An entire crisis over this off-screen)

-Enhanced Resilience: like supermutants they also have much tougher skin, which combined with the denser muscles makes them bullet resistant to small calibers (but like, a .45 would work fine)! This doesn't make then immune, it just means that unless it's a lucky shot a .22 won't do that much damage. (Benny has to shot Dave like nine times before Dave stops swearing at him).

-Enhanced Agility & Reflexes: much faster reaction time, very flexible. Honestly supermutants get this too in my mind. They're massive, and yet they move about as fast as a regular person! That's some fuckery right there.

-Enhanced Senses: Nightvision, Enhanced hearing and smell, taste, the works! They have tapetum lucidum too, so they do get eyeshine! (Eliza scares the shit out of the sanctuary crew when she's eating ice cream from from freezer at 3 am.)

-Enhanced Endurance: this is some IRL supersoldier project inspiration (DORA'S project Metabolic Dominance), they don't get muscle burn! Which also means they don't run out of breath. They can run until they physically cannot run anymore. Adjacent, they need much less sleep, about 1-2 hours a night. (Dave has, in fact, totally abandoned the 24-hour sleep cycle in favor of cat-naps.)(if you are curious its specifically that they don't produce lactic acid. Real thing the US government was trying to figure out, apparently)

-Psyker Ablities: they have tactile telekinesis! They have a fair degree of power if they really concentrate, but can overextend themselves if they aren't careful. This takes the form of the standard psychic nosebleed, followed by going catatonic off and on (because they're having a seizure), up to nigh instant death via brain aneurysm, which they have never gotten to thankfully. They have both fine control and strength, but trying to do too much at once would burn them out quick. (Eliza actually has more natural power than Dave, she just doesn't practice as much because she's easily frustrated)

-FEV infertility: like all fev mutants they can't really have kids. (Eliza, who is gay as hell and aromatic to boot, does not consider this a downside. Dave... would've liked the option, y’know?)

- A Lil Bit of ESP!: They both aren't sure what is going on with that because it's almost all subconscious, but Dave can absolutely hear that whispering in goodsprings cemetery and does NOT like it. Similarly Eliza is utterly freaked out by the Dunwich quarry, (so she panics and lashes out at it subconsciously the entire time, causing all sorts of weirdness). They also have low key twin empathy going on, which is limited to minor emotional effects. ("you're annoyed so I'm annoyed", etc.)

DOWNSIDES (c'mon gotta give em some, it's FEV!)

-Sensory Sensitivities: this comes part and parcel with enhanced senses, but smell is the big one here. Without modern sewer systems Every Toilet Is A Porta-Potty and everything smells terrible. Taste also comes into it because not only can they taste the preservatives, they can taste the radioactive contamination! Yum! (Eliza gets an extra dose of "Autistic sensory sensitivity" on top of that which she hates so much).

-FEV Metabolism: listen they gotta eat a LOT to maintain their Mutant metabolism. Like it's reactive so if they don't eat it slows down but they still have to eat like, ~3000 calories minimum to maintain weight (let alone HEALTHY weight. Eliza is extremely skinny because she has not realized the military was underfeeding them the entire time. Dave has managed to work out how much he needs to eat to have some actual body fat so he's like. Healthy)

-Tactile Telekinesis: they can feel what they do with Telekinesis, which limits the combat applications. Yes they COULD just crush someone like a bug. They really do not want to feel that though, thank you. (Dave has Trauma[tm] with this).

- Telekenetic Emotional Breakdown: they can, in moments of extreme emotion, unconsciously manifest their powers in potentially destructive ways. (This is actually how Dave first manifested his powers! Traumatic!) There are times when both of them have had absolutely terrible times because of something they did by accident during a breakdown like this. (Eliza gets the added fun of "autistic emotional fuckery" stacked on top! Feels like a time bomb!)(Dave keeps his emotions very controlled so as to never get these again. It sometimes fails him.)

I think that's about everything! Thank you So much for giving me an excuse to blab about my OC's, may your crops always prosper!

#fallout #fnv oc dave #oc dave #oc Eliza #f04 oc Eliza #first time ive talked about eliza on here i think! shes great! scrawny autistic punk lesbian! waaaay less edgy than her initial version #definitely not channeling my autism and love of punk rock into Eliza. no sir. definitely not.#please... aske me about my ocs...

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donutloverxo · 3 years

Text

A Royal Scandal 3

Modern Royal King!Steve au

(Image from Pinterest)

cowritten with @lizzygal

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Summary - Modern ruler, His Majesty King Steven G Rogers, is on a quest to make his long term secret relationship the real thing. He is a man in love and wants his lover and partner to be his queen.

Warnings - Smut (m/f), dub con/non con, sex tape, scandals, mentions of past domestic abuse, soft dark Steve, possessive Steve, spanking, power imbalance, mentions of previous domestic abuse, somnophilia.

Pairing - King!Steve x reader

Word count - 7k

Story masterlist

Sometimes Steven forgot that you weren’t that much younger than him. He forgot about a lot of things when it was only the two of you. You did that to him. You made him forget things that everyone else reminded him of constantly, intentional and not.

Early that morning was no different.

Long before his alarm went off, Steve found himself on his side watching you sleep. Feeling in every way equal to you, like there was not this huge ocean of things that he did not have in common with you, opposed to what the two of you shared.

Obviously, he was the son of kings and tyrants while you were the daughter of immigrants and a blue-collar family. You’d grown up in a house full of love and kindness and acceptance, he had not. You’d ended your teenage years going to college and then travelling and ending up here, where you chose to stay and work and travel and live a life that Steve could only dream of, his own had never been his own and never would be.

You had dreams and hopes, little things like aspirations. He didn’t.

Steve’s life was dictated by things like duty and obligations, expectations. Yours was not.

Maybe that was why he’d been so drawn to you?

Compared to all the royals around Europe and titled individuals, politicians, even old families, none of them interested him even a fraction of the amount that you interested him. To Steve you were exotic. You were a fascinating creature who might as well have come from Mars.

He couldn’t even say what it was or why.

For so long it had felt right to be alone. Considering the blood of monsters ran through his veins, Steve had been uninterested in any sort of companionship more than a brief encounter at a private location.

For Christ’s sake, he refused to sleep in the bedroom that his father had slept in.

Upon assuming the throne, he’d selected to take up older quarters in an unused part of the palace living complex. As if to ensure he was as far away from the rooms that his father and grandfather and great-grandfather had slept. Choosing to sleep in a bed untainted by any of those men, stored from when his land was ruled by an emperor. Hoping with the hopes of a young king that it would save him from their madness.

Beside him, you slept so peacefully, trustingly.

Steve had never brought anyone into his private apartment. Nor had his bed seen any carnal action since it’d gone into storage. Until you. He’d simply never been so inclined.

A rough sound from the growth on his cheek rubbing against his pillow. A pleasant reminder of that night that felt so long ago, yet also like only yesterday.

He’d had a beard back then he remembered.

A full bushy one.

One that had made you laugh softly at, roll your eyes and still manage to pull off an acceptable bow when you greeted him that late night.

“They beat Canada then Your Majesty?” You had inquired with good nature, setting down a whole stack of papers and folders onto the very modern conference table in a big room that could fit two dozen, more if the people were standing.

He’d beamed.

Steve remembered he’d been in a particularly good mood that night. Even if he was working late on the education push into the outer regions of his kingdom. A good amount was still very rural, many simple villages that lived as they had fifty or more years ago. Many parts of his kingdom were still deeply rooted in the past.

“Indeed. Eleven to four.”

He was beaming. Beaming! You were pretty sure you could see molars. It made you shake your head and begin to sort out all your work into piles to go over. Not that you’d ever admit to secretly being caught up in the hype of the team being so close to gold at the Winter Olympics. “So then the beard stays?”

“You of all people,” he admonished, coming over to help you. Picking up the well-marked up maps you’d spent hours annotating.

Making you roll your eyes.

On he went though, obviously needing to drive home the seriousness of this matter. “The beard stays until we win gold. Next we play Norway. I don’t think it needs to be said that we cannot risk it.”

He was serious. Really serious. If that full glorious beard was any indication.

More focused on the organizing task yourself.

Sorting your work by region, pile by pile, each had taken much work and effort and negotiation, endless phone calls and trips and emails to each area to get them to work not only with you, but one another. It was like herding cats. It had taken you months to get this all sorted out for Steve to see. His ideas weren’t even ready to be implemented. This was just the pre-gaming, the leadup, the work in preparation. You weren’t even on Step One. You were on Step Zero.

“Now that I know, I’ll be sure to grow a beard next Winter Olympics.”

And then you were rewarded with a rich hearty laugh from your king.

Well not your king, as you weren’t a citizen of this country. But you still liked to think of him as your king.

Watching you sleep was something he’d never tire of. Never get enough of. It was a luxury that he didn’t realize he wanted day in out.

The ability to wake up with you tangled up in blankets. Curled back against his front. Hogging pillows as you did. Allowing Steve to run his fingers up and down your bare thigh, along the curves of your body. Letting him lean forward to press his lips to your shoulder and see the peaceful rest of your face in his slowly lightening bedroom. Every last inch of you here for him.

Hungry.

That was what it was, he was hungry for you. Like a big bear that woke from hibernation after a long winter. At times he felt such a way. Never having felt this way about anyone prior.

In his own time, he slipped his fingers down along the round of your ass underneath the flesh of your hip. Warm. Soft. Smooth. Neither of you had left the bed since the late night bath in his tub.

Further down Steve allowed his fingers to trail.

Memorizing every last second to get him through his day. From how you felt pressed against the front of him, how your back moved against his chest with every steady breath you took. The way your legs tangled in his buttery sheets with his own, how the soft cheeks of your bottom pressed against his alert groin.

Most definitely though, how your skin tasted and felt beneath his mouth. Smelling like yourself from all your favorite bath products kept in his bathroom.

You’d smelled so good that night too.

You always smelled good.

It was something that he had noticed but hadn’t given any real thought to.

It seemed to be a mix of perfume and body lotion or cream. Cause Steve found the flowery smell would linger after you walked by in the way that perfume did, infusing the air and making his brain scream out that you were near. But also, when you shook his hand, it always had that sweet fresh clean smell afterwards.

Now, whenever Steve smelled it, all he could think about was you.

Those smells danced around him. Making the late hour bearable. Making the fact that the offices were empty but for the two of you, when you both should have been home in bed, not matter.

“Ok…” you were talking to him, pointing out places on the massive map that was his nation. Arms crossed. Legs spread. Standing beside you as you informed him with tones that indicated your happiness, your displeasure as well as your utter irritation. “…so I managed to get in touch with every Education Department in all nine of your territories.”

Though you were not looking at him, Steve nodded, laser focused on this project he’d tasked you with months ago.

“All of the department heads are on board with your desired overhaul to completely modernize the entire system. Unfortunately, they told me that I had to call all the district heads for all forty-six provinces to get their agreed participation too.”

Your tone went from pleased with yourself then skeptical and then annoyed.

You turned your head to look at him. “Which is what I spent the last three months doing. It was something of a thing.”

Steve could only imagine.

He was quiet though so you could go on. More than pleased with how well you worked in this position. He’d originally been skeptical with your being a foreigner. How dedicated would you be to a job in a country that was not your own? One hundred percent as it turned out.

Your hands flattened out dramatically on the table. Outrage surged from you. “I’m still waiting on two appointees because their predecessors apparently died during harvest season and no one could be bothered to replace the position. I literally had to fly out to the outer reaches of civilization to find this out. Cause all the government offices are closed during harvest season, fyi. But they’re literally filling the positions now.”

Such was the challenge of having a large kingdom with one foot in the future and one in the past. Such things led to the difficultly of keeping a Chief of Staff.

Steve’s previous Chief of Staff had come highly recommended and lasted a little over a month.

Whether it was from a lack of dedication, the obvious frustrations of the job or maybe he simply had not wanted to jump on a plane and fly six hours then ride by car five hours to remote areas in order to complete his work. Steve could not be sure. All he knew for sure was he’d keep you as long as humanly possible.

In his eyes, you were a saint.

“What’s with the question mark?”

Making you look to see which question mark you’d marked on the map full of stickers and marks and tabs. Hours had been spent working on the damn thing.

Seeing which question mark in question made your nose scrunch. “Oh…them, they refuse to even answer my calls until they are allowed to take their traditional name for their province. Which is way above my pay grade. Someone else is going to have to deal with them. I tried.”

Ah, Steve nodded, that was far from surprising. The far outer regions were notoriously independent or rebellious, depending on your stance.

He would deal with them accordingly. Not how his father did, but in his own way.

Steve’s attention was drawn to two nearby provinces. Each had a frowny face sticker. Without asking, he merely pointed.

A noise of pure disgusted frustration came from deep in your throat. Making you stand and look to him, brandishing your hands in all directions. “I tried my best with them. I really did. Both of those provinces absolutely refuse to take part in anything if the other is involved. Apparently, they’re still salty at one another over something that happened in fourteen-seventy-three and refer to me as the foreign she-devil. So…good luck with them Your Majesty.”

Soundly you slept.

Comfortable. Safe. At peace.

Making him feel like a true man. A provider able to care for you, protect you, satisfy you. As if he were stripped down to what nature intended. Instead of what society had dictated for you both.

Reaching down to that heavenly place between the V in your thighs, Steve pushed his fingers further to find your softness slippery, your skin slick with viscous arousal. In pushing his finger up further, running it around the edge of your slit to where the gateway to your body was hidden, he found you heavily aroused. Coating his fingers with a thick fluid that promised you would be able to take him now. Oozing into the cervices between his fingers and smearing thickly down his palm and over the back of his hand.

Unable to help himself, he brought his hand out from between your legs in order to look at your arousal. Merely the sight made his balls clench in eager anticipation. Tasting the bodily excretions had his hips moving against yours on their own.

A noise came from you. Though you were far from waking. Always one to enjoy your sleep.

On his tongue you were heady, ripe. Tasting like sin. Steve licked his fingers. Eyes closed so he could savor the taste, how you clung to his tongue and were thick, like a burst of brandy swirling with his saliva.

Awakened now from his deep sleep. Ravenous like a beast of the forest. He pressed a lingering kiss to your shoulder. Making you mumble. Making you wiggle in your sleep, causing you to reach your arm out for a pillow to pull close. Hooking your leg up higher too. Becoming more comfortable in the bed in addition to opening yourself up more to your king. As if your body had connected to his on a level your mind was unaware and encouraged him to take you.

Down he peered. Strands of hair fell across his forehead at the harsh angle. A soft lightening of the sun through drapes he never closed last night allowed the sight of moisture. Folds of bare skin sheened up at him. Tempting him with that webbing of goo that promised him you were ready.

Taking himself in hand, he caught sight of your name curled over his side. Reminding him of your absolute possession over him. Sending his hand low to pull his foreskin back in order to feed this hunger of you that consumed him.

Your signature was all swoops and swirls.

Recognizable above anyone else’s writing he came across on a daily basis.

All over paper and on the maps. In little corners. Highlighted. In different color pens. On stickie notes. Written on napkins or on the back of random pieces of paper.

At the time, he’d had no idea how far gone he really was.

Not even when he watched you take note after note with a purple inked pen, your hand flowing across paper like a swimmer cutting through the water. Taking down his every word, every command.

A incredibly distinctive feeling of being full woke you up from your glorious sleep, in a very singular sort of way that could be from only one thing. Only one thing on earth felt like that when waking you up.

Pulling you out of a warm blissful sleep only to wake you with the exquisite feeling of being stretched open, pushed into, filled up. Making your fingers clench bedding or pillows or whatever they could grab.

A low breathy moan came from you in the time between you were woken and awake, your face burrowing in a pillow was followed by a soft profanity. Weight slowly covered you. Weight pinned you down to the bed a little at a time. Skin and sheets and soft dustings of hair rubbed against you.

Only when you had fully woken did you feel pubes brush against your cheeks. A light tap of scrotum bumped you too.

Long arms wrapped around you. Wet lips mouthed along the curve of your neck.

This was a far superior way to wake up. Compared to your apartment, in bed alone, to your neighbors loud shrilling alarm clock through your paper-thin wall.

Groaning out at the feel of His Majesty’s cock stuffed safely up in your secret garden. You found yourself whining at Steve at whatever time it was in the early morning. “…fuuuuck…what’d I say about doing that…” A swivel, nay, a swivel with a pop of his pelvis followed, making you see stars, gasp deeply as if you’d been stabbed in the lungs and then add on for God and Country. “…My King…shit, My King…oh shit, My King.”

Though it may have been said in jest, his tone was hot enough to scald. “If memory serves me correctly…” another deep push of thick hips shoved you forward into the pillows. “…you say, not in my ass unless I’m awake.”

Stars.

So many bright and colorful stars.

Mmm.

Yes, that was something you had told him on many occasions and it still held very true. If Steve was going to put anything in your ass, forget that thing he claimed was a dick, you needed to be fully awake so you could both physically and emotionally prepare yourself.

Nothing at all could have prepared you for the drastic turn your life was about to take that night.

Nothing.

Everything had been so normal. It was so regular. Like many a long night working late hours at the palace before. Hours had been spent going over all your hard work contacting each and every head in each education department per province, as well as per territory. In addition to the national department of education, preparing to prep them for what the king wanted.

Like any other late night, Steve helped you put all of your paperwork back in the correct order you had it in. Like every other time, he requested a palace car take you to your apartment. Granted the apartment you shared with your best friend was walking distance away. It was late and simply not safe and you found were touched that Steve would think about your well-being.

For a king, he wasn’t that bad. When it was the two of you anyway.

Looks aside, which he had in spades, he could be very funny in a sarcastic sort of way. He was very well read and intelligent, quick on his feet. Although people seemed to think of him a certain type of way based on his father and his own kingship at a young age, when he really was his own person.

You’d noticed he had a definite interest in the classical masters and had on rare occasion seen him sketch out something on a flight or during a less than stimulating event. He had an artistic ability that would never come to anything due to his role.

His strong sense of duty paired with a disgusting moral obligation pretty much guaranteed his life would be spent in service to his country. Period.

You could see why people thought he was hot. The man had been blessed by the genetic gods. Plus he was a king. Who didn’t grow up dreaming about being a princess? Or think about a literal Prince Charming from fairy tales?

Having now had the benefit of working in a real life palace. You knew the realities of that fantasy.

You had two pages of notes that could attest to the reality of your childhood Disney Princess movies.

Reality was always so different.

Not for the first time, you found yourself repeating yourself. “…and let me say one more time. Thank you so much for talking with my parents. I know it was only ten minutes, but, I know how busy you are and it just completely topped off their visit. My mother has been telling everyone about how she met the king. You even have my father cheering for the hockey team.”

A smile came over Steve’s face that was real.

It wasn’t one of his practiced smiles. It was an actual smile. You could tell because it reached his eyes.

“Well,” Steve answered you with a shrug, sounding genuinely pleased even if he also sounded tired and like he wanted nothing more than to go off to his living quarters in the palace and crash into bed, before he had to get up to start a new day. Helping you stack the last of your papers up. “Anything to convert a soul to hockey. Technically, it is his team too.” And because he could not help himself, Steve added on, “Even if his grandparents fled from here for a cushy life in the west.”

Up your hand flew to your chest.

Your jaw dropped in mock pain. “Ouch, Sir! That one was painful.”

His smile grew at your over-the-top reaction.

Still though, he dipped his head and you noticed there was a little blush on his cheeks above where that magnificent beard grew. Chagrined, he quickly followed up with, “I apologize. That was a cheap shot.”

In a physical sort of way that his people were known to interact, personal space be damned, Steve reached over to touch your arm apologetically. Not something he did frequently. Although he had done it a handful of times. The press of his mouth to your cheek was new. The little kiss was brand new. Steve’s lips were gentle on your skin. His beard tickled your face.

Never in your life had your heart pounded as violently in your chest as it did at that gesture. Quickly, your head turned. Though you did not move back or say anything. Instead, you found yourself staring at Steve. Looking into those pools of blue that were looking at you with the same amount of surprise that you felt. His lips were right there, right there.

Blood roared in your ears, your heart pounded faster and faster and faster.

He kissed you.

Did he really though?

Was it a kiss or was it a kiss?

For a moment in time, you leaned in. Leaned closer. Leaned till you almost touched him because that was what your body wanted to do. Until you remembered that Steve was a king. A KING. Remembering that made your head command your body to lean backwards a bit. Allowing you to see that he had leant in to meet you.

He’d leaned closer to kiss you.

What were you doing? What in the hell were you doing? You had no business doing this, no business at all messing around with Steve.

Fingers moved along your arm, tracing up the back of it softly. That simple touch made goosebumps break out over your skin. It made your breath hitch. Your hands began to shake so you grabbed the fabric of your skirt.

However, you made no move to step away from Steve. Nor did he make any sort of move to step away from you.

Another attempt at a kiss was not made.

Fingers touched your face instead. Steve was close enough to you that you felt his legs brush yours. You felt his breath against your face. Fingertips ran across the swell of your cheekbone, down over your lips, tracing the bridge of your nose in what felt like a desire to memorize your face.

Steve was gentle. His fingertips felt like feathers on your skin. He made you shake like a leaf in terror because you wanted him to touch you more. You wanted to be touched. You wanted to feel his hands on you and the soft glide of his thumb along the line of your jaw was painfully insufficient.

Without thinking, you reached up with your hands until you remembered that he was the king.

Were you allowed to touch the king? You weren’t sure. He was touching you and it was fabulous but were you allowed to do the same? You wanted to. You so deeply wanted to. You just were not sure what was allowed in this situation. It had not exactly been covered in the Royal Protocol Guidebook you had.

Then came Steve’s voice. Harsh. Gravelly. Desperate.

“Touch me. It’s ok. I want you to.”

For only a heartbeat or two you remained still, observing him, making sure. Only after that did you reach up with your hands to cover his wrists. Rub along the fabric of his button-up shirt. In doing so, you not only felt the strength in his well-muscled wrists, or how warm the silky fabric was, but, you could feel him tremble. He was shaking about as much as you were.

A rush of air surged from his lungs as if you had burnt him.

Curious, you turned your head so you could place a single kiss on the inside of his hand touching your face, right at the base of his thumb. In doing so, you ripped a noise from deep within him. A noise that was both pained while also infused with wanting.

“This is ok?”

“Yes,” he croaked out, as if he were terrified you would stop.

Never would you have ever imagined he would be so responsive. Almost touch starved it felt.

Sometimes, Steve still felt as if he were a little touch starved to you. Sometimes it felt like he’d gone his entire life without having that physical connection between two people. As complicated of a man as he was with as complicated of a life as he had, you at times forgot that he was still a human being with human being needs that were essential to thriving.

And it wasn’t like you were complaining.

Far from it.

Not after the orgasm you just had, not from on top of him either. Lounged across the front of him. Loose limbed. Languid down to your marrow. Peppering the damp skin of his neck with slow wet kisses and scrapes of teeth. Long drags of your tongue collected drops of salt that tasted of him. Lazily. Heart to heart. Stomach to stomach.

There really were worse ways to wake up.

Like, for instance, in your apartment taking cold showers cause the building’s water heater was ancient. That wasn’t fun at all and usually had you shivering and hurrying through an icy shower. Straight up not a good time.

This? This was soooo much better.

Feeling Steve’s long legs wrapped up in your own, paired with his softening member filling you by virtue of sheer size not letting himself just pop out…this was a much better way to wake up. Far superior in every way.

Not that you were willing to waste precious time like this luxuriating in post-coital bliss. No, no. A burning question was hot on your mind that kept popping up after last night. After all, you were a modern woman and this was a serious relationship. You had every right to ask this question at any time you wanted. Even now. As your boyfriend, the king, fondled your breasts in his hands with such intensity that you would have thought he’d just broken out of Alcatraz after a decade of no nookie. Not that you were in the least bit complaining. Not one bit.

“Am I going to have to quit my job?”

It was something of a concern.

You loved your job. You loved working with Steve. You loved your life as it was and a big part of you suspected becoming queen would mean big changes.

Not that you lifted your head from his neck, or ceased your trek down towards his collarbone. Trail of your kisses never slowing or stopping. No hint of any sort of disruption came. Not for a moment or two. Not till your ravenous boyfriend squeezed your breasts possessively. Thumbed your nipples and finally opened his eyes, as if it were the biggest chore on earth.

His voice was rough. His tone felt like hot gooey honey that just got everywhere. “No…not yet…”

Leading you to make a noise. A pop followed when your mouth left the dark spot you’d been sucking on nearly at his collarbone. What with your name already etched on him. What else could you leave in a display of ownership over him? “Nothing else to add My King?” For added emphasis, perhaps you gave you vaginal muscles a clench knowing what that did to him.

A grunt came from beneath you.

Wrapped up in yours, Steve’s legs clenched in response to what you did. White teeth sank into his upper lip and you absolutely thrived at the sight and feel of him arching up against you, shifting around beneath you at the way your body squeezed him.

Those hands left your breasts only to reach down, run over your waist as they had so many times before, leading you to grab them. Snatch then right up. Press them down into the mattress over Steve’s head. Since the man was far larger than you, this sent you leaning downwards and ever closer to his face. “Steve? I asked you a question.”

How easy it would have been for him to get free. Yet, he seemed content where he found himself. Still wedged within you. Warm in bed. Body a sea of a complex cocktail of chemicals after physically releasing into you. A far better way to wake up than alone in a massive bed. Or worse, to his mother jabbing at him to urgently tell him something that was not urgent at all.

Feeling your breasts press against his chest. Lightly brushing over his skin, your nipples little points that sparked a definite interest in his dick.

God did he want you to be his queen.

“Not yet,” Steve ground out, nearly close to being overwhelmed by you. Each and every word was enunciated to utter perfection, as if it took all of his concentration and effort to get them out. “I’ll have the palace leave your name out of the official statement today. We can go slow. Ease you into things…ease you out of your job…” and to reward him for such a thoughtful statement, you clenched around him once more.

However, it seemed, there was more and even though his eyes rolled up into his head at the feel of your core squeezing his not entirely soft organ, he pushed on with the determination of his ancestors. Grunting. Arching back into the bed as the pillows had all wound up on the floor. Perfect teeth clenched together. “M-my people…will…love you…too.”

So, it was entirely possible, that you were feeling all kinds of powerful watching him writhe beneath you. Knowing exactly what sort of repercussions this could have to your morning. Which was still progressing on time. It was entirely possible that you may have intentionally pushed your own pelvis against his to reseat yourself.

“Oh yeah? How can you be so sure? You saw what happened with those two over in England. And that prince isn’t even next in line to the throne.”

Perhaps it was the seriousness of the direction in which your conversation had taken, Steve remained beneath you. Taking no action, even though you could quite literally feel his dick grow more interested in what your hips were doing.

A panted out, “…fuck…” escaped from him, before he opened his eyes to look at you seriously, if not also a little heatedly. “Quit obsessing over them. The King of Jordan married for love. Queen Rania was a commoner. If you must, focus on them.”

Sudden movement found you falling off Steve and onto the bed, shoved onto your back and in a flash, he was on top of you again. Over you. Hovering. Though he’d escaped out of your body, you could feel the king’s most delicious semi, slick from your previous copulation, squish between you both.

Admitting on an exhale, “Forgot about them.”

“Everyone does.” He agreed, surveying down, taking in the sight of you. “My country appreciates you. They’re fond of you. You’re in all the papers and they’ve given you a nickname.”

And that. That. Nearly killed the mood.

It sent your eyebrows together dubiously so.

Everytime you were in the press it was when your skirt had been blown up on a windy day, or if you’d accidentally gotten food on your shirt. Or that time a baby goat pooped on your shoes. Or when you’d tripped and fallen off a dock into a lake. Who could forget that time you’d accidentally called the Prime Minister of Canada a ‘moose fucking cannibal’ when you’d still been getting the hang of the language, your first year on the job?

You’d been affectionately dubbed, ‘the King’s Foreign Devil’ and it had stuck.

Hell, you still got asked about your thoughts on the Canadian Prime Minister whenever a member of the press was around.

“Most the time, you have a higher approval rating than I do,” he added. Much to the consternation of Maria Hill in PR. “Trust me. There is nothing my country loves more than a hard-working loyal servant of the people who talks shit about western leaders.”

Mood totally killed, you seethed and not for the first time, “That was an accident! I was trying to call him Canada’s Disney Prince.”

***

The note had been hand delivered to the palace and was now crumbled into a ball in the Queen Mother’s bedroom as she stormed off, once more, that early morning in a fury of rose satin and silk. Her perfume clouded around her, drifting behind her, much like the wake of a boat cutting through the water.

Thick carpets silenced her heels. Doors opened for her as she neared them, allowing her to not need to slow her step even for a second. Not a single moment wasted as she made her way through the private living quarters of the palace.

Down hallways and around corners, over to the rooms that her grown son had selected as his own.

It would have been so much easier if he would have just taken the rooms that his father had lived in.

Although, with the horrific memories attached to those rooms, how could she blame him when he elected not to? She had her own private rooms. The dead kings rooms were locked up tight and still not used. Abandoned like so much he’d done, started and accomplished in his life.

Upon coming to her only child’s rooms, those doors were held open for her and on she pressed on. Sailing through his rooms, one after another, until she got closer to his bedroom and could hear his shower which was the direction she headed.

A brief glance was made at the mess that was his bed.

A roll of her eyes was followed by a shake of her head.

Some things males never grew out of it seemed.

“Steven!” She called out in warning, should he be in the bathroom about to come out in the nude. Which was the last thing she wanted to see.

Not only was his bed a mess but his clothes from yesterday were all over the floor.

She had every intention of telling him that he needed to straighten up this mess before the cleaning staff came in his room. The last thing she wanted was for them to think he was messy and then tell their families and friends when they went home that the king had a messy bedroom and word would get out that her son was a slob. Ugh. No. She’d make sure that he straightened up.

Speaking of the devil.

As his shower ran, Steve peered out of the bathroom with a wet head. A midnight blue towel was wrapped around his waist. A toothbrush was in his hand. To Sarah, it was very clear that her grown son had not shaved yet either.

Seeing him in such a state that morning along with his messy room and the fact the shower was going wasting water. It did not make her mood any more agreeable.

Though her son was taller than her and considerably more muscular, she never feared him.

She knew he would never hurt her like his father had so many times. Towards the end, Steve had even defended her from his father’s physical attacks. Those days. They had been dark. Horrible. Terrible. When she noticed that her husband had begun to carry a knife to protect himself from his son. Well. What was she supposed to do?

Attacking her was one thing. Being violent towards her was one thing. There were some things that she learned to tolerate. It was unescapable. Their son though. To take a knife to their son? Her son? Sarah would never allow such a thing.

She was queen at the time.

It was not so difficult to get the drug that she put in her husband’s evening nightcap. She’d used all of it. Thrown the vial away the next day when she went to rouse the king as she did every morning, only to find him dead in his chair. Fireplace having long gone out. Slumped down. Cold. The coroner had said it was a heart attack. Exactly as she’d been told the drug would work. He’d been buried with no one the wiser. Not even Steve.

“Yes mother?”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “You are not growing another beard. Last time you looked like some man that lives up in the mountains in a tiny shack.”

Just as her own father once did, Steve’s eyebrows rose in surprise and question.

No. That was not why she was here.

Sarah had a higher calling that morning and straightening her slim shoulders, she so informed him. “Hope and Janet are here in the city. They’ve come for a surprise visit and will arrive at the palace within the hour.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed at her in response to her information.

It was horrifying. It was outrageous. It was not what he wanted to hear that morning one bit. Not at all. Not one single bit.

Hope and Janet?

Those were two names he never wanted to hear with the additional words being, ‘on their way’. No. Just no.

All he could say that was remotely civil, after what the then Princess Hope van Dyne had done, came out in something of a tone. “I don’t want to see either of them. If you want to see them, that’s your choice. Keep them away from me.”

Considering what the now Duchess Hope had spewed to every reporter, journalist and whomever with a platform…Sarah was a little surprised that Steve was being so kind.

She’d expected a bit more of a reaction from her son.

Could she be holding a bigger grudge against her one-time closest friend’s daughter? After what had happened, Queen Janet van Dyne had become somewhat distant. Which was not surprising. Hope had not broken the engagement gracefully. Nor had she been anything less than opinionated afterwards.

“I suspect she is in trouble,” Sarah confessed. “Why else would they come here? Considering everything that Hope has said over the years.”

Steam continued to seep through the cracked door.

Sarah was about to say something about the shower. Steve was wasting a considerable amount of hot water. She herself was leading the Go Green Initiative in the country and as she stated constantly, it all began at home.

“Mother, don’t take this the wrong way, but, I wouldn’t shit in Hope’s mouth if she was starving.”

Ah.

Perhaps she’d been too quick to judge Steve’s current opinion on the wayward duchess?

Pondering his statement, Sarah found herself looking for any way to come back with a counter when she noticed that the shower turned off. Which was odd. Shower’s didn’t turn themselves off.

What was even more peculiar, Steve reached back behind himself to shut his bathroom door.

It clicked.

Like a light going off.

How could she not have noticed? How could it not have been obvious?

Blue eyes that were a little softer than her son’s narrowed. “You aren’t alone.”

Silence.

Quiet.

Her pink lips opened in surprised. A question hovered on her tongue.

“No mother.”

“But…”

“Mother,” he implored as only a son could. “Not now. She would not want the first time she officially meets you to be when you’re dressed for the day and she is not.”

And though her son’s words were true. They were right. They were exactly what she would have wanted him to say and because she had raised him well, she was even proud that he had made such a quick decision. It wasn’t fair.

Sarah wanted to find out who you were. She wanted to meet the woman that her son was involved with. Was that so wrong? Sarah wanted to meet the woman that her son was considering marrying. There was so much she wanted to say to you, so much to teach you, so much she wanted to learn about you. Perhaps her desperation showed because her son reached out to place a hand on her elbow.

“If you can chase Hope and Janet away, we could have lunch together. The three of us. If not, dinner? Or even tomorrow. I’m not doing anything with Hope under this roof. Not after she referred to our country as a third world plus hellhole full of war criminals and superstitious backwoods heathens.”

Ah, so he did remember.

Those words had been seared into her memory as well. Sometimes Sarah wondered, as Steve had never really given much indication that he cared one way or the other what Hope had said. It was only after she began to speak unflatteringly about their people that he grew irritated, much like herself.

Although, what irritated Sarah more, was the quiet that came from the royal house of van Dyne and Pym a few countries over. Never once had Janet spoke up. Never had Janet said anything about her daughters outrageous remarks or behavior. Nor had she apologized.

Knowing her son, Sarah knew that he would never court anyone who was not kind or compassionate. Steve would never pick a Hope as his queen.

Up came a hand that bore a lovely ring decorated with fresh water pearls from their own waters. “I’ll have them gone before lunch and then we will all sit down together so I can finally meet her.”

#steve rogers x reader #chris evans x reader #steve x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers x you #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n

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the-littlest-goblin · 3 years

Note

ooooooooh for fic prompts, could i request: essek interacting with Frumpkin, specifically playing with him (so as to impress Caleb and earn his favor a bit), but our favorite hot boi most likely did not have pets growing up and is at a bit of a loss with what to do. (bonus: Caleb sees this and thinks it's incredibly endearing)

I think you got everything you wanted. ft. my personal 'here’s how Frumpkin can still win’ headcanon.

----

This was not how familiars were supposed to work.

Essek may not have summoned one before (he’d never really understood the use of an assistant with no opposable thumbs), but he had read enough about the spell to know that this was not how familiars were supposed to behave.

Maybe that was because Frumpkin didn’t technically count as a familiar anymore.

No one knew exactly what had happened, or why. Essek and Caleb had exchanged a number of theories on the matter, but so far the best explanation still went to Beau’s conclusion: “weird fey shit.”

After Aeor and the Somnovem, when they had all finally gotten a chance to breathe again, Caleb had done some sort of ritual to more permanently banish his familiar. Essek hadn’t gotten the full context at the time, but it had something to do with symbolic closure and moving on. The cat was already gone from the Material Plane at that point, but Caleb had wanted to remove the temptation to summon him again, and so devised a sort of reversal of the Find Familiar spell.

However, upon performing the anti-summoning ritual, the cat had appeared in the ritual circle as if Caleb had cast the spell as usual. Only instead of going to his master’s side, Frumpkin had sauntered away from Caleb with a swish of his tail and gone to sit directly at Essek’s feet.

“Hmm,” Caleb had muttered, the hint of a grin twitching at the corner of his mouth. “It looks like he has made a choice.”

Ever since, Caleb had been unable to banish Frumpkin, or communicate with him, or give him orders. He had seemingly lost his magical connection to, and mastery over, the cat—Frumpkin was no longer his familiar, as had been the intention. It was just that Frumpkin apparently liked the Material Plane better than the Feywild, and so refused to leave. And since Caleb had let him go, he chose a new wizard to keep him company. For the next several days they had spent recuperating and planning their next moves, Frumpkin stuck with Essek, never straying from his side for long.

But, crucially, he did not become Essek’s familiar, a lesson they had learned quickly enough. Essek didn’t even have Find Familiar in his spellbook. He couldn’t banish Frumpkin, he couldn’t communicate telepathically with him, and he certainly couldn’t give him orders.

So, Essek just had a pet cat now, one which happened to be fey in nature. Stranger things had happened—much, much stranger—so for Essek’s part, it had seemed easiest to just accept this development in stride. At times, he was even grateful for the cat’s presence.

But right now, he was very much not. At least familiars were obedient.

Essek winced against the sound of shattering glass—a sound which was becoming somewhat routine since taking up residence in these new, temporary lodgings with Frumpkin as his roommate.

Essek closed his eyes and took one deep breath before looking up from his notes to survey the damage. His gaze met Frumpkin’s round, amber eyes across the room, looking impossibly innocent where he sat primly on one of the tables which Essek had set up to house his research. His tail swished back and forth where it hung over the edge, acting like a flashing signal to point Essek’s attention down towards the starburst of broken glass glittering directly beneath him.

Mercifully, the beaker which Frumpkin had marked for termination had been holding a harmless and easily replaceable solvent, rather than any of the more valuable or dangerous liquids Essek had lying around in his provisional lab. His fingers curled protectively around the precious vial of liquid dunamis sitting next to him.

“Why?” He let the single syllable of the word stretch out into a long, bone-deep groan lasting several seconds. The question was aimed both at Frumpkin and at himself, and covered a variety of curiosities he had about the situation. Why did Frumpkin feel such a persistent desire to destroy Essek’s belongings? Why had he chosen to adhere himself to Essek in the first place, when he seemed to hold a deep disdain for everything Essek owned or did? Why was Essek incapable of learning the very simple lesson of locking the door to this makeshift lab? Why had he promised Caleb that he would take care of Frumpkin while the Mighty Nein dealt with the Assembly, instead of throwing the mangy beast out onto the streets of Port Dumali as soon as they had arrived at the safe house?

None of these were questions to which Essek was about to get any answers, so he tried another one.

“What do you want from me?”

Frumpkin blinked.

“You are still a fey being. You don’t need food or water, and as far as I understand, providing those two things are the pillars of caring for a pet. So, what else could you possibly need that requires my attention?”

Frumpkin flicked his ears.

Caleb had given Essek a brief overview of what to expect in terms of cat-care, but either he had chosen to leave out a lot of unsavory details, or decoupling from their arcane connection had put Frumpkin through a drastic personality change, because Essek had received no instructions about how to handle the kind of stalemate in which he currently found himself.

“You have my sincerest apologies, but unlike your previous master, I cannot read your thoughts, and your current methods of communication are lacking in clarity.”

Frumpkin’s tail began swishing faster. He broke eye contact with Essek to gaze intently at the row of jars lining the next table over. These were full of various concoctions, including some potentially dangerous acids, the results of Essek’s increasing boredom as he stayed hunkered down in his safe house day after day. He only ever went out for the duration of a Disguise Self to buy food or other necessary supplies; he was too noticeable to amble around the city for leisure, on the slim but ever-present risk that word of a strange drow in Port Dumali would reach the ears of Ikithon or his servants. Essek was under strict instructions to stay as hidden as possible until he got the all-clear from the Mighty Nein. With only the materials to continue his most basic experiments with dunamis, he was growing bored out of his mind.

Essek heaved another deep sigh before reluctantly abandoning his notes and gliding over to where Frumpkin had stationed himself. With a short wave of his hands, the spill vanished and the broken shards of glass floated gently into the trash bin. Then, Essek unceremoniously lifted the cat into his arms before he had the chance to wreak any more havoc, and deposited him outside the door.

Distraction removed, Essek made to turn around and return to his research, this time intending to lock the door to prevent further feline interruptions. But before he could do so, he made the mistake of looking into Frumpkin’s eyes again. The cat’s pupils gleamed, impossibly wide and round, and his tail was still swishing back and forth in an incomprehensible pattern, like some sort of code. A mixture of affection and guilt welled up in Essek, rooting to the spot.

Godsdammit, but he had promised Caleb he was going to take care of his cat, and that meant not ignoring Frumpkin when he was clearly trying to tell him something. Because even if Caleb no longer wanted a familiar to travel around with him, he still loved this damned cat, and also Essek was trying to be less callous and heartless in general.

He thought back to Caleb’s instructions with a fair bit of desperation, searching for some hint of what would make Frumpkin happy. All he came up with was a faint recollection, something about enjoying being scratched behind the ears.

“Is that all you want? Is that what you interrupted me for?” Fighting not to roll his eyes, Essek reached down for a pet.

As soon as he got close enough, Frumpkin lunged.

“Gah!” Essek snatched his hand back, nursing the sting of pain from Frumpkin’s bite. There was no blood; the little demons’s fangs hadn’t managed to break the skin. It could barely count as an injury, but the shock of betrayal hurt more than the scratch.

“What in the Nine Hells was that for?” Essek glared at Frumpkin, then noticed just in time that the cat was poised to strike again. This time, he only had to turn slightly to keep his hands out of harm's way, but Frumpkin wasn’t aiming for the exposed skin. There was a loose thread dangling from the hem of Essek’s sleeve, apparently caught by the previous attack. Frumpkin was intent on it. He flung himself at the thread, grabbing at it with his clumsy paws. It slipped through his grip, and he lunged again without hesitation.

Experimentally, Essek lifted his arm so the thread dangled higher off the ground. Frumpkin took the challenge to heart, leaping to grab it in his teeth before it slipped out of his grasp again, and he landed on the floor in defeat. Essek moved his arm over to one side, and Frumpkin followed with enthusiasm, this time managing to get the thread around one claw. The split second of resistance was enough to tear it from Essek’s sleeve. Frumpkin rolled over onto his back, victorious, batting his prize around in euphoric glee.

A grin spread across Essek’s face as he watched this display of simple delight.

“I suppose you were just bored, too. Was that it?”

Frumpkin responded by biting the string with a vengeance.

An idea began forming in the corner of his mind as he watched Frumpkin playing. Absentmindedly, Essek twisted his fingers and summoned a trace thread of dunamis into his hand, shaping and stretching it into a longer and longer cord of greyish, glowing energy, which he then dangled tantalizingly over Frumpkin’s head. The boring, non-magical string was immediately forgotten and discarded as Frumpkin caught sight of the dunamis toy. His whole body wiggling in excitement, he lunged at the cord again and again, pulling a genuine laugh out of Essek as he bobbed and weaved the magic around, dancing it out of Frumpkin’s grasp. He needed a break from his lab anyway, and this was shockingly entertaining.

---

“Well? How are they?” Just a hint of nerves colored Caleb’s voice, as it did every time they checked in on Essek. The fear that this time, the scry would reveal him not safe and sound on the Coast, far from the Trent’s reach, but somewhere cold and dark and threatening.

The faint glow faded from Jester’s eyes as the spell ended. Looking up at Caleb with a smile, she said, “You’re not going to believe this Caleb, it’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.”

Caleb grinned back at her.

#critrole #critical role #my writing #fic prompts #the pedant in me needs to point out that Essek would definitely be wearing his anti-scrying necklace but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#Anonymous

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