#left is dark green with burgundy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

villain-crown · 2 months

Text

regret | @jegulus-microfic | words: 1,255

critical care, part 4 (part 1, part 2, part 3, part 5, part 6)

a Jegulus nurse!AU

Despite his conviction, James did not end up mustering the courage to ask Regulus out that day. He almost managed to get there a few times, but then Sirius would just pop out of nowhere with some meaningless side quest for him to work on. Each time James had finished doing what was asked of him, Regulus had moved on to busy himself with something else.

The next morning, James finally accepted that he had been left with no choice.

He would have to physically visit the “dungeons” himself.

Standing in front of the doors to the Slytherin cardiovascular intensive care unit two floors below Gryffindor, James took a few slow, steadying breaths. It was his lunch break and he was determined to finally speak with Regulus without Sirius running constant interference.

Do you want to go out sometime? he rehearsed in his head, swiping his badge to gain admission through the doors. No… more assertive. Let's go out sometime. Yeah, yeah that’s good—

“Who the hell are you?”

James pulled his gaze to find a Slytherin with platinum blond hair looking him over from behind the nurses’ station counter. She was perfectly put together in designer forest-green scrubs with a matching stethoscope clipped to her waist and her badge was decorated with multiple pins outlining her various professional awards and accomplishments.

James rolled his eyes upon recognizing her. “Oh come on Narcissa, we’ve worked together for five years!”

“Fine. What do you want, Potter?”

“To talk to Regulus,” he declared bravely.

Narcissa lifted a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “He’s busy.”

“I know,” James replied quickly. “I just need like thirty seconds to—“

“Did they finish up the chest tube?” Narcissa interrupted him to address her sister, Andromeda, who had just exited the patient room right behind him.

“Yeah, Slughorn’s fellow finally gave up on the resident and just shoved it in himself. This whole river of nasty yellow pus shot out of her left lung. It was wild. Hey, James. What are you doing here?”

James blinked as the conversation suddenly twisted back around to include him. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Narcissa cut him off.

“He’s here for Regulus, apparently.”

Suddenly, both of them were sizing him up. Their critical gaze made him wish he’d thought to iron his burgundy scrubs or something. “Have you told him what happened to the last guy who was ‘here for Regulus?’”

“C’mon guys, I just want to talk to him.”

“Talk to him or sleep with him?”

James jumped as Bellatrix, the third Black sister, appeared from fucking thin air right at his elbow.

“Bloody hell, Bellatrix, where did you even come from!?”

“Excuse you, you’re the one barging onto my unit trying to filch our baby cousin.”

“You just snuck—“

“Potter,” Narcissa interrupted impatiently, tapping her wristwatch. “We have a fresh heart coming in. You’ve got till then to convince us we won’t regret this.”

“Lunch,” James replied quickly, straightening up. “I just want to take him to lunch, I swear.”

“Are you single?”

James flinched. “W-what?”

Bellatrix snapped her fingers in his face. “You’ve got sixty seconds. Don’t waste our time. Are. You. Single?”

“Yes!”

“You like our little cousin?”

“Yes… ma’am.”

“Are you fucking anyone at the moment?”

“Bella!”

“Are you?”

“No!”

Bellatrix’s dark navy eyes bored into him like she wanted to crawl into his head and take a good long look around. “Hm. To the cafeteria and back only—and keep your hands to yourself or I’ll snap them off and use them to hold pressure on room 18’s hematoma. You’d better buy his lunch.”

James had just enough time to gape at the Black sisters before the double doors to the unit opened and a procession of operating room staff came inching through, a heavily sedated heart transplant patient transported among them.

Seizing the distraction, James backed away quickly to locate Regulus, who he found resetting his workspace after a procedure, preparing an incredibly unstable older man for the next rocky hour of hanging onto life. Partially-clotted blood stained the floor, hastily covered by surgical towels from when they’d inserted an emergency dialysis line in the patient’s neck. A machine to filter his blood had been set up near the ventilator.

Regulus looked very cute in his Slytherin-green jogger scrubs and soft fleece zip-up. The loose coal curls atop his head shifted with each turn of his neck and his slight frame just made James want to scoop him up and put him on his lap.

“What, Potter?” Regulus finally asked when he’d hovered in the hallway for over a minute, depositing the last of the capped needles into the sharps container.

Let's go out sometime, he coached himself. C’mon, Potter, you’ve got this! Let’s go out some—

“Lunch!” he blurted out. “Er, Bellatrix said you can take your lunch now.”

“What?” Regulus frowned, glancing at the clock. “It’s barely noon.”

“We should go,” James said quickly. “At the same time, I mean. Together.”

Regulus quirked a dark brow, his silver eyes sizing James up in the bright hospital lighting as he paused in changing his dialysis machine’s filter. “Together?”

“To the same place.”

“I’m not a bloody idiot. I know what ‘together’ means.”

“Great! Let’s go!”

Regulus tilted his head in amusement. “Listen, Potter… you’re a bit of an idiot so I’m going to spell this out for you.”

Oh please spell out “take me, I’m yours.”

“I don’t get any nicer than this and some of my needs aren’t easily met.”

James felt his heart rate pick up. Fuuuck, he was in trouble. Sirius was going to kill him. Bellatrix was going to throw him off the roof of the critical care tower. He really did just mean to ask Regulus to lunch; maybe get to know each other a bit, make plans for the weekend.

But the mouth on him!

“I’m very good at meeting needs.”

Regulus didn’t seem to buy that. “Really?” he drawled, looking James up and down with obvious doubt, making the Gryffindor bristle.

“What makes you think I can’t?”

“You strike me as a bit too… sweet; people please-y. You’re aware that my stupid brother has forbidden everyone in this hospital from making anything resembling a pass at me?”

“It’s just lunch.”

“Is it?”

“Do you want it to be?”

Regulus smirked, taking the three slow steps necessary to close the distance between them, pushing himself up on his toes to breathe in James’s ear.

“The things I like might be a bit much for you.”

“I think you’re really underestimating the things we’ve already done in my head.”

Coming back down on his heels, Regulus ran his tongue over his teeth before biting down on his lower lip. “Hm. I’m intrigued. Fine, I’ll get Snape to cover my patients. You’d better have more to offer than that dazed look on your face, Potter.”

With that, Regulus walked away.

…Holy shit.

HOLY SHIT!

He had a lunch date with Regulus Black!

Left alone with his raging thoughts and a sedated patient, James fumbled with his phone to send a frantic text.

To ‼️📣Marlene📣‼️:

If he meets my parents on Friday, I can propose on Saturday, and spend all of Sunday absolutely railing him.

Looks like I have weekend plans ❤️❤️❤️

From ‼️📣Marlene📣‼️:

There’s no saving you anymore, Potter. You have a death wish, and at this point, you frankly deserve it.

RIP when Sirius finds out what you’re doing ☠️

#jegulus microfic #jegulus #james potter #regulus black #starchaser #james loves regulus #sunseeker #marauders nurse!au #villain-crown microfics

147 notes · View notes

laladellakang · 9 months

Text

burgundy lipstick

masterlist | wattpad

italics dialogue = english

how the dark blood: engene ver. photocard shoot played out

real quick! i personally don't think that neck kisses have to be racy, like a peck to the neck is brief and innocent

but the one i'm referring to in heeseung's relationship with della is the racy one, whoops.

The Dark Blood, Engene's version album. The most anticipated version among fans and the Enhypen members themselves.

The source behind the members' excitement? A neck-kiss that was supposed to take place.

For the photocard, all members but Niki were set to bear a kiss mark on their neck, with Della's lips serving as the boys' human-stamp and whoever wins rock-paper-scissors as Della's.

Yet the execution was cut short. Very short.

"Kiss here?" Della pointed at the side of Jungwon's neck. The first person appointed was decided by the staff. Perhaps Jungwon was chosen because he was the leader.

His coming-of-age could be an alternate reason. Since he is a recent adult, the staff wanted to check if it works with him.

And of course, there's always a possibility of the choice being completely random.

"Yup, just there. Maybe have it slightly askew," as the creative director and Della discussed placements, the young leader grew more nervous at the thought of his first ever neck-kiss.

"Okay, understood," Della mirror-lessly smeared on a burgundy lipstick, smacking her lips at the camera pointed at them. The rest of the members were all watching from afar, trying to be subtle with how excited they are for their turn. "Ready, Wonie?"

"Mm," Jungwon stretched out his neck for easier access. "Della is gonna make a kiss print on my neck," he explained to the future photoshoot sketch viewers.

"We're all friends here," Della clarified. "This is just bros being bros," as if their fans (or anyone) is gonna believe that.

"It's just a print," Jungwon added, immediately holding his breath when Della's head moved close.

"Like this?" Della asked the creative director.

"Uhh..." he stepped back and thought of it for a second. "It might be too sexy actually. It's a little too... suggestive– too grown up" he hissed with a tilt of his head. "Will buttoning up his shirt help? Jungwon, can you button your shirt?" but even with the slight change in wardrobe, the view was just too provocative.

"I think we have to discard the kiss idea and just switch to vampire bites," the creative director decided. "Unbutton them to how it was before and I'll inform the makeup team of the change. Please scrap this from the video," he informed before walking away.

As a leader, Jungwon was just hoping that his hyungs could get it together and not openly show their disappointment.

"I'll get going now," Della bowed her head and left to join the other members.

"What happened?" Sunghoon asked the girl.

"The kiss thing is scrapped. We're getting vampire bites instead," immediately after, the boys let out a chorus of 'ahh..'s.

Jungwon barely managed to hold in a scoff. It's just one tiny neck kiss, what's the big deal?

"Ya– how can they just cancel the kiss after testing it out on Jungwon?" Sunghoon groaned and threw his head back. After the shoots, all eight members were left alone in the green room to prep themselves before heading off, and it seems like the oldest five still held some unresolved feelings.

"They said it was too suggestive and sexy," Jungwon explained. "We all agreed that it is, didn't we?"

"I knowww, but couldn't they just make all of us get the mark first and THEN have it removed?" Sunghoon replied. "And while they're at it, NOT remove it from the behind episode?"

"Why? What difference does it ma–" Jungwon was cut off by Jay.

"It's easy for you to say! You were first up!" he pointed with a grin. Sometimes It's hard to tell whether he's actually serious with the second maknae. He usually gives out a smile while saying certain things. "You could quickly snap a few selfies and post it on Weverse or something. What a missed opportunity."

"What?" Jungwon seriously, truly did not understand what the big deal was.

"That's why I should've been first– they should've gone by age or something." Heeseung added with a sigh, manspreading on the sofa. "Della, darling, come here please," he pat his lap.

"No, you're staying here," Jake wrapped his arms around Della, who was already on his lap. "Hyung, if we went by age then Jungwon will be first anyway since he's leader."

"That's not what he meant." Sunoo pushed Jake lightly with a giggle. "Like actually just age without consideration for leader."

"Ah is that so?" Jake monotonously said. "I want a lipstick print in public mannn!" he groaned out loud.

"I already imagined mine to be around here," Sunoo stretched his collar to show his collarbone. "What do you think, hyung?"

"It doesn't matter what we think if you're not getting it at the end of the day," Sunghoon replied, smirking at the pout the younger let out. "I imagined mine to be near my throat."

"Well it doesn't matter when you're not getting it at the end of the day!" Sunoo fired back with wide eyes.

"Ish!" Sunghoon balled up his fist with a grin. "Ya–"

"I wanted mine to be here, kinda," Heeseung distracted the two by pointing on the spot under his ear, just where Jungwon got his.

"Isn't that your sweet spot?" Jake asked. Della immediately scoffed out a laugh at his remark.

"How do you know where Heeseung-oppa's sweet spot is?" she laughed. The female member will never stop teasing her boyfriends about their never-fully-straight behaviour.

"Anyways! I wanted mine around–" Jake tried to change the subject.

"Aish, get over yourselves, hyungs! I wasn't even set to get one," Niki laid his head on Heeseung's lap. "Stop being so horny," ever since he learned the Korean word for 'horny, he's been constantly using it to tease the older members.

"We're not!" the hyuppas and Sunoo protested.

"With no mark on me, I was gonna look left out of the relationship," Niki muttered and closed his eyes.

"We're sorry, Niki," "We're really sorry, we didn't mean to," the members apologised.

"It's totally cool. Besides, if it's the neck kisses you're after, you could all just ask Della for one like any other day, simple as that."

"Of course! You need to give me some once we get home!" Sunghoon pointed at Della.

"Ya, ya, ya– me too! I want neck kisses too!" Jay sat up straight.

"Of course! You can't just leave any of us out!" Heeseung added.

"Why are you leaving me out then-" Niki was cut off by Sunoo.

"It's not your time yettt." he whined.

During times like these, Della usually stays out of the bickering. She can easily put a stop to it, but where's the fun in that?

Without a word, she got off of Jake's lap and made her way over to Niki, where she placed a chaste kiss on his neck.

"YA, YA, YA, YA, YA! What is happening?!" as his hyungs protested, Niki cheered and pulled Della in for a cuddle. Jungwon, Della and Sunoo were the only ones laughing.

'My men are absolutely adorable,' Della thought.

"You're laying on my lap and you do this to me?!" Heeseung playfully yelled at Niki.

"Maknae on top! Maknae on top!" Niki laughed, pointing at Jungwon and himself. Jungwon clapped his hand as he laughed aloud.

Being up first for the shoot has its perks.

accidentally posted my draft for this and deleted the original ask

check out jungwon’s pov here! (15+? 16+??)

taglist! @afiaaaa19 @riikiblr @i90snoo @one16core @danyxthirstae01 @seulgifted @clar-iii @hiqhkey @nichmeddar @jiwlys @duolingofanaccount @nvmbheart [@studioreader @sarang-wonie @fairydosii @hoonstrology @jaetint @4sahii @8-itsmee-8 @toriluvsfics ]

#kang della #8th member of enhypen #enhypen 8th member #enhypen ff #enhypen reactions #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x oc #enhypen added member #enhypen eigth member #enhypen female addition #enhypen female member #enhypen oc #kpop added member #kpop oc #enhypen female oc #enhypen imagines #enhypen poly fic #enhypen poly

409 notes · View notes

chaninfused · 6 months

Text

Dead Men Don't Speak | Series Masterlist

— The story of a mafia, a green sky, and a girl in a burgundy coat.

[All the works under the cut are mine. Do not copy, repost, or translate my work.]

➥ go to main masterlist

Series Information

Summary: The life of a mafia member and the eight boys who cross her path, for better or for worse. Alternatively — Your partner is dead, or so you've been told.

General Disclaimers: Female reader insert. Mafia au. Angst and dark themes. Graphic depictions of blood, violence, and death. Usage of vulgar language. Specific disclaimers will be written on each part. Chapters not in the chronological sequence of the story's events.

Schedule: Updates every week on Saturdays. Dates specified on each part. Dates are tentative.

Chapters

⭓ The Sky is Green | Seo Changbin

— The one-eyed brute and the girl in the burgundy coat.

⭓ Dead Men Don't Speak | Lee Felix

— The detective's assistant and the Shadow Front's left claw.

⭓ Cross My Heart, | Hwang Hyunjin

— The boy who wanted to become a god and his new friend.

⭓ And Hope to Die | Han Jisung

— The living ghost and his purpose.

⭓ The Altar of Angels | Lee Minho

— The mafia prince and the jester.

⭓ The Undoing of Gods | Yang Jeongin (8.6.24)

— The fugitive and the god of chaos.

⭓ The Waltz of Devils | Bang Chan (15.6.24)

— The detective and the black iris.

⭓ Of the Un-Blue Sky | Kim Seungmin (22.6.24)

— The liar and his neighbors.

➥ go to main masterlist

181 notes · View notes

actual-changeling · 6 months

Text

this post by @fellshish inspired me to write a little something as a reblog and now it is. a bit more than a little something so it gets its own post. why does this always happen. why. i simply cannot resist.

aziracrow angst with one archangel and one archduke being equally unhappy

"You?"

The door falls shut behind him with a loud bang, metal scratching over metal, and even after weeks in hell, Crowley still isn't used to the noise and hides his flinch with an exaggerated bow. Swallowing the dizziness, he straightens and flings himself back into his chair.

"'s me, angel. Oh, not angel anymore, is it?"

Aziraphale blinks, blinks again, and wrings his hands, turning the ring on his pinky round and round and round. In the dirty green light, he almost can't see the reddened, raw skin underneath.

"My deepest apologies, your Supreme Arseangelness," he winces when his voice breaks on angel, picking up the previously discarded bottle and taking a swig. "So, what d'ya want?"

After his question, the room grows quiet, the demons' moaning and shuffling a faded buzz, and while the Dark Council did insist on him changing his clothes, there were no requirements except 'well, evil and- and demony'. So—keeping the ever-changing temperatures in mind—he switched his usual attire for a calf-long black coat over a deep burgundy shirt, his polished high-heeled boots reflecting the light as he sprawls and the skirt ruffles and flows.

With one leg stretched out over the armrest, he regards Aziraphale through lidded eyes. He might not seem particularly present, but he would never let his guard down in hell—fuck, not even on earth.

(Not anymore. His flat was too empty and quiet, the bookshop too—well, the point is, he left.)

Aziraphale's suit is pristine, practically glowing surrounded by hell's filth, and swirling gold markings are framing his face; definitely new, Crowley decides, and entirely too attractive. Biting his lip, Aziraphale steps closer, arms pressed tightly against his body, while his eyes roam over Crowley's.

"As the new Supreme Archangel, it is only polite to introduce myself to the new duk—" he interrupts himself, his knuckles turning white, and suddenly his eyes are everywhere but on him. "I didn't know it was you, Crowley, I swear."

There is almost a tinge of desperation in his words, and he cannot decide whether to be annoyed or comforting. The urge to keep him safe will never fade; it has not wavered even once in six thousand years, and he doubts it will start now. Then again, he did warn him, didn't he?

For six thousand years, just to be forced to watch him leave anyway.

Crowley empties the bottle and throws it against the nearest wall, watching it break, shatter, crumble to dust, and sink into the floor. Hell is his to shape, yet it also shapes him, he realises, when his annoyance switches to anger.

He pushes himself upright under Aziraphale's wide-eyed gaze and closes the distance between them with a handful of wide steps. Swallowing a wave of tears, Crowley looks at him, unblinking, and waits until a familiar look of furious defiance settles on Aziraphale's face.

Now they're getting somewhere.

Earth is nothing without him on it, not just boring but driving him properly insane with the emptiness expanding around him; London had turned into the centre of a black hole, sucking him. When he couldn't take it anymore, descending back to hell had been surprisingly easy.

"Now you know," he hisses, low and long, his teeth sharp, his eyes fully golden, "so you can leave."

"But-"

"But what? Do you need something from me?" And, ohh, he does feel the alcohol now, loosening his split tongue and pushing emotions to the surface. "First you discard me, now you come back to demand my help?"

"Crowley, I didn't-"

"It's Archduke of Hell for you, and this audience is over."

A part of him had hoped that maybe allowing the anger to escape, to take form and turn his words into knives, would make him less heartbroken, yet all it is doing now is ripping badly healed wounds wide open. Seeing him, hearing him, smelling, tasting him in the stale air—it is too much. Not enough. Both.

His throne welcomes him back as he stumbles onto it, another bottle appearing in his outstretched hand, and with a snap ringing through the room, the door slams open.

Aziraphale watches him with tight lips, but he does not try to argue, does not chase after him, does not say anything, does not do anything.

Instead, he does what he can apparently do best now—he turns around and leaves.

For the very first time since his arrival, Crowley channels his anger into the walls of hell, stomping down any moral qualms as he listens to the increasing pitch of pain echoing through the halls.

It doesn't help, but neither did coming back, nor did talking to him. All he can do is lift the bottle to his lips once more and wait.

#alex writes good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce #the final fifteen #good omens ficlet #good omens angst

149 notes · View notes

drarryspecificrecsdaily · 6 months

Text

2023.12.03

Complete fics posted on AO3 this day

1. Bought and Paid For by @jtimu [E, 10k]

►Harry runs his fingers across the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up to his forehead. “Are you telling me that you bid a thousand galleons for the pleasure of my company-” [...]

2. Dark Artistry by @sightedkarma [E, 26k]

►Draco Mallory liked his life after the war, in his little flat in Brighton, with his group of muggle friends and a career that let him put something beautiful out in the world. He'd left the Malfoy name and baggage behind years ago and created something new for himself to be proud of. That was until Harry Potter had to show up, covered in ink, and bring it all back.

3. dueling is their foreplay by tinaakitten [T, 2k]

►“Oh, sorry,” Harry teased. “Did I not tell you? We duel to submission, and I don’t recall saying I was done.” /// Auror partners Draco and Harry have a quick surprise duel in the training room.

4. Predicting the Present by @xx-thedarklord-xx [T, 7k]

►Malfoy—of all people—was the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, and Harry didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit. “Professor Malfoy said we’ll be learning the basics on how to cast a Patronus!” Oh really? That, Harry had to see.

5. scarves by @anticomedygarden [T, 1k]

►Harry and Draco have fun at a winter festival. That's it.

6. Tickling the Ivories by @annanother-thing [E, 5k]

►Harry has a misbehaving magical piano, a very pushy best friend, and a very unexpected afternoon. feat. Hermione doing what Hermione does best (sorting Harry's life out), Harry's vivid imagination, and Draco's green lacy knickers

---

Fest/Exchange

1. An accidental courtship by Anonymous [E, 6k]

►“The courtship starts with the offering of a single burgundy rose at exactly seven days before the winter solstice. The courtee may formally accept the continuation of the courtship – if they wish – by placing a single kiss on the flower.” ★ Harry/Draco Owlpost 2023 | @hdowlpost

2. A Christmas in Heat by Anonymous [E, 3k]

►Despite all odds, Harry and Draco become friends while working at the Ministry. Their friendship is very intense, and the need they have for each other takes them both by surprise. Then, one day, Harry begins to desire Draco in a way that frightens him. [...] ★ Harry/Draco Owlpost 2023 | @hdowlpost

3. Elf Affairs and Unwrapped Hearts by @picklesonjupiter [M, 1k]

►As Harry reluctantly takes on the role of a mall elf during the holiday season, he finds unexpected camaraderie with Malfoy, another elf, whose civil behavior surprises Harry. Working together, Harry discovers a side of Malfoy that intrigues him, leading to an unexpected invitation. ★ HP Yuletide Bliss 2023 | @hp-yuletide-bliss

4. The Pale Ferret Café by Anonymous [G, 3k]

►Harry's visits to Draco's café are a source of annoyance. Or are they? ★ Harry/Draco Owlpost 2023 | @hdowlpost

5. Thickets by Anonymous [E, 17k]

►When Draco returns to the UK after two decades of building his career as an internationally-renowned artist to look after his ailing, estranged father, he crosses paths with his former flame, Harry Potter, in the most unexpected way. ★ H/D Erised 2023 | @hd-erised

#drarry #drarry fanfic #drarry fic rec #harry potter #draco malfoy #daily list #2023 #2023.12

149 notes · View notes

pjackk · 1 year

Text

In Tekken 8 there will be a new character named Windwhistle. He practices an MMA style fusion of BJJ and Mystical Tai Chi. He is 38 years old. He has a sexy skinny twunky body. He has defined very thin and abdomen. He has sexy muscular collar bone. He has a tight waist. His calves are defined but not huge. His nipples are a subtle dark apricot hue. His nipples are small and turn erect on final round. He was born in Cuba but he grew up in southern China. In his adulthood, he travelled to Northern Alberta to work in the tar sands. His areolas is large relative to other male characters. His skin is a lightly bronzed color. On his left forearm there is a tattoo of a sheep. On his right forearm there is a tattoo of a wolf. His cheekbones are very defined. His jaw is very defined. He has deep eye sockets in a sexy way. His eyes are beautiful. His eyes are shining. His left eye is a bloody burgundy hue. His right eye is a deep sea indigo hue. His hair goes down to his neck. His hair is dark and curly. His hair has a lime green streak that goes down the front. He is clean shaven. He loves techno music. He loves EDM music. He loves DNB music. He loves experimental drugs. He goes into full power fury mode after taking experimental drugs. His breasts are large and tender. His breasts are large enough to be firmly grabbed by other human adult males. His cock is 3" long flaccid. His cock is 7" long erect. His cock has a 3" girth flaccid. His cock has a 4" girth erect. His balls are average sized. His balls sag slightly in an alluring way. His ass is large and firm. His ass is spanked and red. He loves for his big ass to be spanked red. He wears black bootleg timberlands. He wears tall black socks that go up to his knees. He wears black cargo shorts that are tight and accentuate his big ass. The bottom of his ass cheeks show from under his shorts tight. He wears a black henley style shirt with buttons that go down to under his breasts. He keeps his shirt unbuttoned to show his breasts. His chest is hairy. His breasts are hairy. His abdomen is not very hairy. He has a trail of hair going up from his pubes to his belly button. He has his zipper and belt and button on his shorts undone to show his dark curly pubes. His thighs are hairy. His calves are hairy. You can see his armpits if you look down his sleeves. His armpits are hairy. His armpits are sweaty on the final round. He has a full throw game. He can wave dash. He has a comboing hellsweep with a maximum for 45 damage. Is df2 punch is safe and launches. He can use a 16 frame unblockable deagle shot high in heat mode. He eats a slice of galic chicken pizza and flips you off when he wins. He has a 1+2 break comboing throw that sets up an unblockable shuriken throw after bounding. He throws three shurikens in heat mode so that you cannot avoid them by sidestepping. He is knocked unconscious and drools on his breasts when he loses. He is loading his deagle and says "Let's burn it all down" in his intro animation. He wears a golden ring with a shattered bloodstone on his left pinky finger. His right ear is pierced. He wears a diamond stud on his right ear. He has an unusually long tongue. He loves RC cars. He has a taunt move where he erotically sucks on a dumdum. He has an armored headbutt move. If his armored headbutt move counter hits, he grabs the opponent and takes them all the way to the wall. He loves cartoons. He loves French style sandwiches. He loves candle wax being melted onto his tummy. He is implied to be Jin Kazama's father. He is implied to be Josie Rizal's ex husband. He is implied to be Jun Kazama's ex husband. He is implied to be Kazuya Mishima's ex husband. He is implied to be Craig Marduk's ex husband. He is implied to be Lili Rochefort's ex husband. He is implied to be Paul Phoenix's ex husband. He is implied to be Prototype Jack's ex husband. He is implied to be Sergei Dragunov's ex husband. He is implied to be Master Raven's ex hu

514 notes · View notes

upsidedownwithsteve · 2 years

Text

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [2.1k] soft, fluff, bed sharing.

Hawkins was dark as you strolled through it, following the white lines that led you down the middle of the streets. Houses and manicured lawns closed you in, cars parked on driveways, bikes abandoned on front porches as your watch told you it was nearing one am.

You sighed as you rounded the corner, cursing under your breath at the Harrington residence as you noticed another two cars were parked beside your boyfriend’s burgundy BMW. The other two vehicles were gleaming, not overly familiar looking due to the trips out of town they regularly took with their owners but you kicked a rock on the sidewalk, wondering when Steve’s parents had arrived home.

The spare key your boyfriend had cut for you felt hot and heavy in your shorts pocket, useless now that the house had more than one person inside. But the night was too warm and you were restless, unable to sleep and you’d spent an hour or two tangled in your sheets before you’d slipped out your own front door and walked the blocks it took to reach Steve’s.

Undeterred, you made your way around the side of the house, the sprawling mansion surrounded by thickets of plush, green hedges and tall trees. You groaned when you reached Steve’s window, nose scrunched and hands on your hips as you remembered the boy didn’t sleep above the garage roof like you did, that there wasn’t a drainpipe or ledge for you to easily hoist yourself up onto.

But you were so close and his window was open, the barely there summer breeze lifting at his curtains. Your chest ached a little at the thought of him sprawled out in his bed, hair mussed, eyes sleepy, skin soft.

Fuck it.

You couldn’t lie, the climb up the tree took longer than you thought it would, your legs seemingly shorter than you had remembered. But you reached the taller branches, placing your old converse on the limbs that seemed the strongest before shimmying yourself out and across. The gap between your branch and Steve’s window seemed a lot larger than from where you’d originally viewed it from the ground and you let out a small noise of concern. Shit.

Your bare legs were scuffed from the rough bark and your movements were clumsy, but the night had been far too warm to consider anything longer than the cotton shorts you had pulled on before you’d left, one of Steve’s old basketball t-shirts falling to their hem. It had long stopped smelling of him, cedar and mint and his aftershave washed away after too many nights of sleeping in it.

All the more reason you wanted to crawl in beside him, you thought. And if it had anything to do with the nightmares you were still having after watching the boy get dragged into the depths of Lovers Lake, well, you weren’t ready to admit it.

The night was silent around you, the wind lifting at the loose hair around your neck and face and for once, the town felt peaceful.

“Steve.”

Nothing. Your whisper was carried away with the breeze, swallowed by the trees around you and you huffed. If you strained your ears, you could hear the soft, snuffled breathing of the boy inside, his face most definitely pressed into his pillow.

“Steve!” You tried again, hands still wrapped tightly around the branches.

The soft snoring stuttered and stopped and you froze, listening for the sounds of movement that would let you know the boy had heard you. Sure enough, the curtains were pulled back, your boyfriend appearing in the open window frame, eyes wide.

He hissed your name and you grinned when it fell from his lips, sounding more like a swear.

“What the hell are you doing?” He whisper yelled, his gaze on you a little panicked as he took in your dirty knees and the height of the tree you had scrambled up.

You beamed at him, eyes roving over his bare chest appreciatively before you extended a hand to him, fingers wiggling.

“Hey pretty boy, you wanna give me a hand here?”

There was a fond, if not a little exasperated, smile on Steve’s lips as he leant out the window and grasped your hand. Stepping back a little, he murmured softly, telling you to be careful as you pushed yourself out of the tree. Your soles found the sill, your free hand wrapping around the open window frame and before you could panic at the feeling of balancing on the edge, the boy’s free hand wrapped around your waist, comforting and heavy.

He practically lifted you into his room, your body pressed up against his and you hummed happily at the feel of him, still warm from sleep. He let you slip down his front, his hands bunched in your shirt - his shirt, he noticed with delight - and as you moved, he exposed the bare skin on your sides, your stomach.

Steve couldn’t help but smooth his thumb over your navel, biting back a smile at the stray leaf that was stuck in your hair. Plucking it out, he grinned down at you. “What are you doin’ here sweetheart, tryin’ to to give me a heart attack or something?”

If he wasn’t already guiding you over to his bed, you would’ve pouted and asked him if he didn’t appreciate your tree climbing efforts. But the boy had wrapped a strong arm around your waist, humming contently as he pulled you back into the nest of white sheets that smelled like him.

You weren’t close enough until you were both sharing the same pillow and Steve pressed the bridge of his nose into the column of your neck, drawing lines over it until you caught the hint and tipped your head back for him. Shivers raised across your body as he pressed kisses across the skin there, your arms winding around his neck and holding him to you.

“Just wanted to see you,” you mumbled, already feeling soft with sleep and Steve. “Couldn’t sleep.”

He pulled back to look at you, brown eyes knowing as he let his gaze roam over your features. Steve noted the slight downturn to the corner of your lips, the dark circles that started to shadow the skin underneath your eyes and he frowned.

But he didn’t question you, didn’t push it, ‘cause you were pressing yourself further into him, the need to be close becoming suddenly overwhelming. You pushed your face into the crook of his neck, your fingers finding the soft strands of hair at the nape of his neck and you twisted them around each digit.

You sighed into him, soft and sweet and Steve smiled when he felt your lips press into the spot underneath his ear.

“And here I thought that I was s’posed to be the one sneaking in through your bedroom window,” he whispered, his hand sneaking up the sides of your top, warm palm running flat across the curves of your waist, teasing the soft skin on the underside of your breast.

“Thought I’d give you the night off,” you answered, toeing off your converse and wincing when they thumped to the floor. You both stilled, listening for any movement in the quiet house. “I didn’t realise your parents were home.”

Your legs tangled with Steve’s, wrapped around the light sheets, both of you too warm for anything but the other's body heat. Your hand travelled down to his chest, smoothing over the ridges of muscle there, the leftover marks that were starting to scar on his side. You worried your lip between your teeth as your finger flitted around the edges of the raised skin and he bumped the tip of his nose into yours to gain your attention, his hand wrapping around yours.

“Hey,” he scolded gently, bringing your hands between your bodies, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, to your fingertips, “you either gotta stop worrying or tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

You let out a huff of breath, pulling away just enough so you could meet Steve’s gaze. His brown eyes were gentle, still soft with sleep and concern for you but he didn’t let go, his arms still wrapped around you, fingers ghosting over your curves.

“Just struggling to sleep, y’know?” And he did, god Steve did. You closed your eyes, let your forehead fall into the boy’s bare chest and you pressed your lips to the dip in his collarbone. “Bad dreams.”

You didn’t offer any other information on the matter, you didn’t really need to. Because when the boy closed his eyes at night, he was at the bottom of the lake looking up, watching you dive into the darkness after him. Except in his dreams, you didn’t reach him and he couldn’t break free to find you.

He woke up sweating, panting, more often than not. Alone and on edge, awake until the early morning sun bled through the cracks in his curtains and he deemed it an acceptable hour to call your house phone and wake everyone up - he just needed to hear your voice.

So he nodded, silent and understanding, fingers picking at the flyaway lengths of your hair and he tucked them behind your ear, the slow, methodical movement of it all lulling you into the most relaxed state you’d felt all night.

“S’nice,” you told him, voice softer and slower as sleep settled over you.

Steve hummed his reply, his smile hidden in the noise and he wondered what it would take to have you in his bed every night. He’d given you a spare key months into your relationship but you hadn’t had to use it all that much, not until the world decided to implode again, not since monsters and nightmares came crawling back out of the splits in earth.

When you did, it was usually ‘cause he was in a shower after work and he always delighted in the surprise of you appearing in front of the frosted glass, giving him a show as you slipped off your clothes, letting your underwear stutter down your hips and pool at your feet before joining him under the spray.

But then again, his parents were never home. They’d arrived back from whatever business trip they’d been on for the past few weeks when he was already tumbling into bed, his mothers head appearing from his door, checking that her son was indeed alive.

If she noticed the marks on his side, the silver stretches of skin that were beginning to heal and scar, she didn’t say shit.

“Can I stay here tonight?” You whispered into his skin, and then you added a soft please, as an afterthought, as if the boy needed convincing.

He chuckled into the crown of your head and you felt his smile as you grabbed at the waistband of your shorts, still too warm despite the open window, the lack of sheets around you both. You wiggled out of them lazily, rolling onto your back for a second as you kicked them off your ankles, leaving you in Steve’s shirt and a pair of underwear that said ‘Wednesday’ on the front.

It was Friday.

“Hot,” Steve grinned, only half joking, and he smothered a laugh when you slapped at him without any real heat, letting him wrap you back into his arms.

“You really think I was letting you crawl back out my window?” He told you, a hand roving quick and appreciatively over the curve of your ass before it snuck back underneath your shirt, pressing against the small of your back.

You shrugged, yawning, despite knowing the answer, despite knowing that there wasn’t a chance in hell the boy was letting you go. It was easier together. The world turned softer, slower, when you were with Steve. The night seemed less dark, and the chances of monsters creeping out from underneath your bed seemed slimmer if you were in his.

“Not a chance sweetheart,” he told you and despite sleep pulling your eyes heavy and closed, you lifted your head blindly to him, searching and needy.

He gave you what you wanted immediately, lips pushing against your own, soft and warm and you could taste the traces of spearmint that sleep hadn’t taken from him yet. Despite being wrapped around him, half naked in his bed, it was a kiss that made you feel safe, at ease.

A kiss that made his arms wrap around you a little tighter than before, a kiss that was sleep slow and languid, and by the time he pulled away, nose nudging yours, your head sunk into his pillow even further.

“Get some sleep, yeah?” You heard him murmur into your jaw, lips pushing extra kisses there and making you smile. “You got me all night.“

And wasn’t that just something fantastic?

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fic

3K notes · View notes

another-lost-mc · 2 months

Note

Hi Jes!! I’m sorry to hear you’re not feeling well 🥺 if I could I would deliver soup to you!!! ✨💕

If you’re up for it, I’d love to hear your thoughts on ✿ ■ ♡ with Mephistopheles 🥹

You're so sweet! 💕 Thank you! :3

■ - Bedroom/house/living quarters headcanon

Mephisto's bedroom is on the second floor of his parent's large estate. In the house's left wing, he has a small cluster of rooms including his bedroom, private bathroom, and office/personal library. It's far enough away from his brother's rooms that they have their own space and privacy, but he's close enough that he can hear his brother call for him (a regular occurrence when he was younger and would have bad dreams). Mephisto's linens and décor encompass the dark, rich colours that remind him of the forest nearby where he likes to ride his horses: dark browns, greens and burgundy. For luxurious accents, he prefers onyx, crystal, or silver.

♡ - Romantic headcanon

He is eager to share his interests with his beloved. He would love to take you on a horse ride and have a picnic at one of the meadows near his home. If you're hesitant about the idea, he does everything he can to make it appealing to you: he has a custom set of riding equipment prepared for you including boots, jacket and breeches that look suspiciously like his own, and a helmet. He'll encourage you to ride your own horse, giving you as many lessons as necessary to ensure your safety and comfort, but if you can't be convinced, he'll place you on his horse instead and take the reins for both of you.

(the nsfw headcanon is below the read more link)

✿ - Sex headcanon

Mephisto enjoys the thrill of fucking you at RAD. The Newspaper Club office is one of his preferred locations when your alluring presence and enticing glances throughout the day are finally too much for him to ignore. Joining the club to be close to him, or simply visiting him when you know he'll be working late on a project by himself, provides many scandalous opportunities for him to indulge in a little depravity with you. He leans against the heavy wooden door after he pulls you inside, tendrils of loose hair falling over his forehead while his breath hitches, and watches as you sink to your knees and reach for his belt. Perhaps he swipes his work carelessly to the floor while he bends you over the desk where he grinds against you while his fingers dig into the soft plush of your hips and thighs. Better yet, maybe he guides you onto his lap while he sits back in one of the leather wingback chairs. He's merciless as he teases you with not-enough friction of his thigh rubbing between your legs. Your gasps and whimpered pleas for more are finally satisfied by his nimble fingers, warm and fragrant from the buttery leather gloves he wears, slipping beneath the waistband of your uniform.

random headcanon asks

#jes.replies #obey me mephistopheles

60 notes · View notes

leavemeslowly · 2 months

Text

Autobiography of Red

Pairing: Eddie Horniman x Susie Glass

Wordcount: 1,597

Warnings: Explicit, +18, Smut, Masturbation, Emotionally Repressed, Sad Ending, Crying, Possessiveness, Dirty Talk, Did I mention it is sad?

Summary: "I will never know how you see red and you will never know how I see it."* The London Eye stood still at this ungodly hour. Susie was alone in her apartment but hoped she wasn't.

Susie was not an early bird, but she was forced to become one. She would rather nap for a bit longer. Today, she briefly closed her eyes to say goodbye to her nighttime sleep. The last moment of peace was not given because her mind unhelpfully supplied the daily schedule. It included lengthy dealings on the farm at Halstead Manor. They also included a particular ex-military, aristocratic soldier. The thirteenth Duke of Halstead.

She buried herself deeper under the sheets and remembered how they danced in the living room of the manor. The lingering touches, subtle glances and drinking more and more just to loosen up and not bother with the consequences of all the exchanged gestures.

The next day, Eddie asked her what she was still doing there as if he had not led her to a bedroom on the first floor and had not helped her out of her shoes. She remembered the kiss left on her forehead. Remembered how his fingers slipped down her bare arm sticking out from under the sheets.

Susie was on the edge of asking him to stay, rest his head on the other pillow, and embrace her body, before she completely forget what it means to be close to another person. But, she shut her mouth tightly. Her eyes closed and she heard doors closed behind Eddie.

It was time for daydreams to end. Susie stared for a moment at the London Eye, which stood still at this ungodly hour.

Later, she bit her lip, walking in front of her vast closet, and trying to decide what to wear. She thought about a nice three-piece suit in deep navy. On some days, she just needed an extra boost of confidence to cover up her uncertainty and doubts.

The clothes had to speak for her, wordlessly explaining that Susie was qualified to do what she did and that she was an authority in her own right without her dad having the last word. She is not a blind follower of his rules, but she is their maker, too. Susie is writing them in wet ink, and whoever disobeys her ends up with her pen sticking out of his eye.

She smirked, picturing her future enemies punished through that unconventional method. There is always space to refine one's game.

Nevertheless, she moved her sight to the other part of her closet, where various shirts were hung. She has not worn silk for a while now. Her collection was too diverse to let it lie unused.

She took a moment longer to consider her options and switched to choosing a lingerie set. Of course, today, there was no need to fuss with anything too frivolous. One of the white drawers hid her plain but comfortable bras, which she would wear on a daily basis.

A plain Skims set would do the work, but once she had it on, she felt too casual, so mediocre that her skin started to itch as if it wanted to be peeled off. The set blended with her pale skin tone and made her smoother, almost perfect. Only freckles splattered on her legs and arms betrayed an extra layer of material on her body.

Her resourcefulness, more often than not, was a hindrance to fulfilling her own needs.

Susie turned back to the drawers and opened another one. The contests of it, their textures, colours, and variety of patterns differed diametrically. She gently slid her fingers through them and stopped on the dark burgundy set.

Her mind drifted to the day they stole a green Lamborghini, and it almost backfired spectacularly. She also remembered what she wore on that day, a red suit with a belt tightly wrapped around her waist. A few buttons of the shirt were left open to counterbalance the heavy material. Her black hair was falling in curls down her arms. That was one of her most successful outfits to date, but she would never suspect another impact it had.

Eddie had never stared at her this intensely, this darkly. She felt his eyes on her, but he was not persistent in confirming their decision or agreeing on something. On that day, he was sliding his gaze down her arms, cleavage, and thighs. How could he think she did not feel it?

A thrill of excitement ran down her spine whenever she caught him looking everywhere but not directly into her eyes. She was not intimidated, but her light complexion blushed prominently under her makeup. He might be obvious, but she did not have to be.

She took the burgundy set out of the drawer. She slipped out of boring Skims and slowly, savouring this moment, put on thin, heavily laced panties. Then she fastened her balcony bra behind the back and finally clipped the garter belt in its place. Her light skin was picking through meshed insertions. Standing in front of the mirror, Susie slowly, almost teasingly, dragged her hands down to be sure that everything was smoothed out and in place.

She imagined what Eddie's face would look like now. She would mock him: 'How do you like me now? Am I good enough?'

He would not be embarrassed or lost but rather intrigued, silently watching her while leaning back against the doorframe. Susie would present for him, put her hands behind her neck and raise her hair to uncover more of a scandalously white skin. She was anxious to imagine his voice, so he would still be gazing at her reflection in the mirror.

'Come closer, Eddie. Don't be a stranger.'

He would move only with her permission. Before stopping right behind her, he would shed his black jacket and drop it off on the sofa in the middle of the closet. Eddie would gently grab her arms and put them down. His fingers would dig into her arms as if he was ensuring she was real, all his to touch and hold.

'Susan, darling' His deep and rough voice whispered straight to her ear would make her legs tremble, so he had to ground her and embrace her unsteady body. `Do you want me to watch you?'

Susie would shut her eyes, suddenly embarrassed by his hands roaming down her tight stomach.

'Yes, Eddie, if you like it.’ She whispered shyly.

His response was a pained groan and his hands squeezing her ass under the lace. Susie would moan loudly responding to his possessive marking of her body.

`I fucking love it, baby. Show me that you love it, too. I know you want to.' She nodded and rested the back of her head on his chest while her manicured nails skimmed down her stomach and under the lace of her panties. `Tell me how it feels, love. I need to know if you feel good.'

Susie would be pulsing and hot, sweat forming on her hairline. She would open her lips and breathe out shakily, letting out the faintest cries of pleasure. His arms would make her hotter and deliciously restrain her movements. Still, his posture would support her like a wall she could rest against when her body was slipping out of her control.

`Open your eyes, Susie.'

On his request, they snapped wide open. He was there, right behind Susie, with one hand delicately cupping her breast. It felt so right that Susie wanted to cry. Her cheeks were bright red, and her lips were swollen from biting into them. Eddie's dark eyes bore into her while she was slowly touching herself.

`Let me help you, please, allow me.'

He did not wait for her permission this time. His large hand slid under hers and she whined as if it was what she craved all along. Susie's nails would dig into his forearm, feeling his increasing movements, his hardness digging into her back and fingers of his other hand sliding into her mouth. She licked around them, promising him the things she intended to do. She felt that for her it was just a matter of a few more flicks of his fingers.

`Let go for me, Susie.' He was mumbling into her neck now, lips lightly brushing against it. Her reflection in the mirror was dishevelled, her hips bucking into his touch. `Next time, we will do it against this mirror. With London behind our backs. With your tits pressed to the mirror and your lipstick spread across it.'

Susie nodded, hearing these words. They were vulgar and tempting, and she knew they could not be real. Those were her darkest, deepest fantasies. Eddie's black eyes were staring at her now, and she was on the edge of falling.

`Then, I will do what you want me to. In your bed, I will take care of you, Susie. We will fuck nice and slow. You will fall in love with me and maybe not feel so lonely and pathetic.'

Susie rapidly turned her back to the mirror and fell on the floor. She remained there for several minutes, shaking and breathing hard. Tears were burning her eyes, but Susie could not let them fall. She will not let her stupid dreams and fantasies ruin her picture-perfect image.

Finally, when she calmed down, she raised her head. Just as before, the London Eye was standing still.

Susie stood up and changed into Skims. Then, she put on the first clothes she found in her wardrobe.

On her way out, Susie threw the burgundy set into the bin.

*Quote by Anne Carson. The title is also taken from one of her books.

Notification list:

@omgpurpleann @cult-of-escapism @simp-ly-writes @bass41ife @theamazinggracie

@nonbinary-blog @leksii @dont888 @starflame

@booklover1814 @exxodusmo @afangirlfandom @your-mums-nuts @coffee-and-casefiles

@kassa-stardust @romanogers @crescendoofstars @sglassxblog

@wintress1989 @mesillusionssousecstasy @gabbyabby89 @beautifultragedygiver @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao

49 notes · View notes

reaurelynios · 1 year

Text

[ID first image: there are 5 digital drawings of moon in various poses and retro-styled outfits. in the top left he is wearing a white shirt tucked into blue jeans and a blue jacket with red, white, and blue stripes. to the right, he is wearing a white button-up shirt, a red sweater vest, and burgundy trousers. in the bottom left moon is wearing a black turtleneck with a dark-blue striped jumper on top, tucked into white jeans. to the right and in the middle moon is wearing a black shirt with red and blue stripes and blue jean shorts. in the far right moon is wearing a black vest top with a blue, pink, and purple open button-up shirt and loose dark green trousers. the background is a dark blue with a cool-gray outline around all of the characters.

second image: there are 5 digital drawings of sun in various poses and retro-styled outfits. on the left sun is wearing a black shirt with yellow geometric patterns, tucked into black slacks. in the middle top sun is wearing a white shirt tucked into red jean shorts. he also wears a yellow, pink, purple and blue jacket. to the right sun is wearing a white button-up shirt with red and blue patterns which is tucked into blue jean shorts. below this is sun from the chest-up, he is wearing a sort of varsity jacket in red, green and yellow. to the left sun is wearing a red, yellow and blue striped button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and yellow jeans. the background is dark red with a warm-gray outline around the characters. end ID]

more outfits for the boys because they're so fun to draw

#reart #image described #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #fnaf dca #sundrop #moondrop #someone in the tags of the last outfits post #said that their outfits looked very 80s-like #so i took that idea and ran with it

379 notes · View notes

verysium · 4 months

Note

would a beautiful young lady like you be so generous and besprinkle me with some sae itoshi thoughts

beautiful young lady? 🤭 anon you are so sweet. and for that, i present to you a writing idea that has lingered in the back of my mind for a while now. introducing......✨rōnin sae✨

he was originally the first-born son of a wealthy samurai clan but was ostracized due to his left-handed fighting style and refusal to conform to bushido. the night of his thirteenth birthday, he wrongfully murdered a man, and for that he was exiled by his family and later banished from the estate. forced to leave everything behind, he traveled on foot to kyoto to enter into the service of the daimyō at yodo domain, but no master or dojo would accept him.

after three years, he became a wanderer, a ghost identified by nothing except the incorporeal lingering of fear he left behind. no one has ever seen his face, nor do they know his name. a pair sharp teal eyes is the last thing the unfortunate souls see before they meet their end at the tip of his blade. he slices so clean it leaves no blood, only a soft body caught between the furrows of earth, lodged into eternal sleep beneath the snow.

working part-time as a serving girl between a soba shop and a brothel, you encounter him on one of the longest days of winter, the sole customer who dares to enter between the hours of midnight and dawn. as you set down his bowl, your eyes catch onto the silk tie fastened to the hilt of his katana, a rich hue of burgundy red. he must be a member of the upper nobility, you think. you've only ever seen the color on the obi of the wealthy patrons and the entrancing eyes of the madam's geisha. you politely ask him where he bought such beautifully dyed fabric, setting down his chopsticks with a sweet smile. he stares up at you from beneath his jingasa hat, so low on his face that you cannot see his eyes. a beat of silence passes, then two.

it is blood.

his tone is quiet, deep enough to send shivers down your spine. he waits to see the horrified look on your face, the crumpling of your delicate features so that he knows when to leave, where he is not welcome. but it never comes. instead you beam, blabbering on about how you figured he was a ronin with the number of bodies he left behind, and the number of days he says he's been here. he remains silent, though you see a flicker of something beneath the brim of his hat, the color so bright you do not know if it is blue or green.

you realize who he is. and you don't care.

that is enough to get sae interested in you, at least interested enough not to kill you. most people never hear the rumors let alone fathom his existence, yet you let him stay here with you, as if you expected his presence all along. at first, he coughs and refuses, standing up swiftly to find the exit. but when he lifts the noren and is hit with a face full of harsh snow, he begins to reconsider your offer, to wait until the storm passes.

you boil tea on the kettle as you lay out a spare futon on the tatami, lighting a candle in the darkness. in the corner, he sees a small misshapen bundle beneath the blankets, and he immediately pulls his hand back when two glossy eyes peer back up at him. the bundle he realizes is your mother, and the blankets he learns is a deathbed. you have no other kin left, no money to feed yourself, nowhere to hide the rotting body. only in time will he fully understand the ghosts of your past. you are the daughter of a prostitute; he is a son in exile. it shouldn't even be considered a match, but it strangely feels like one.

the storm passes, but sae doesn't leave. instead, you and he settle into the mundane expanse of cold routine, him searching for hire by day and you working by night. except one night, you do not return home by the tenth hour bell. it isn't until the sun carves a sliver into the morning sky that he sees your silhouette in the doorway, kimono slightly rumpled. you pull the ornaments out of your hair, makeup smeared as you run frantically into your room, slumping before your wash basin.

it doesn't take much from him to pry out an entire story from your lips. apparently your friend himeko has disappeared, the last you've seen of her was her entanglement with a young nobleman who promised to buy her out of the brothel. you sigh, lamenting that you are not attractive enough to be wed, much less make your way up the ranks of the maiko. sae wants to say you are foolish for believing a man's lies, but he holds his tongue when he sees your expression, the delicate features of your face crumbling, the same way he expected them to the night you met. it is the first time he sees you cry, and he cannot even hold you. he does not know why this hurts so much.

it's too late by the time he realizes.

you've buried yourself into him. stomped your muddy footprints all over his heart. left evidence in the snow. successfully haunted him in every single iteration. now he tells you that he would wed you in a single heartbeat. any sign of discomfort and he would not hesitate to kill. his only regret is that he wished he could give you more than this life of an untethered ghost, more substance than this lack of being. but your lips quell the storm that resides in his heart, his rotting fingers trembling as they find a home on the side of your cheeks. if he were to die, he would be content to be buried inside you, his stone cold body resting within the peace of your existence.

it is the hour between midnight and dawn when sae realizes the snow outside has stopped and that his life has only just begun.

#asks #can you tell this was inspired by mizu...#sae itoshi #sae itoshi x you #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi x y/n

63 notes · View notes

inkblot-inc · 8 months

Text

A Simple Meet-Cute

Summary: A slow night at your job picks up with the presence of a certain woman in red, this meeting also serves as the precedent for your life-course to shift...

Pairing: ???Wanda Maximoff x Hyena!Mutant!Reader

[S.S AU Masterlist]

Warning(s): Dark Themes; there's no smut in this one, but this is an 18+ AU aka MINORS DNI. To start we got depictions of breaking bones (not in depth, but it’s there, suggestion of murder, mention of mutant trafficking (did I really go back there again? Yeah, but this time with a dash of discrimination toward mutants), let’s see… language and general violence, cuz hey, you know what I get up to...kinda-

Note(s): This timeline-wise is way before "The Bigger Picture". I figure after I had my medias res moment, I wanted to go ahead double back to show how Wanda and R met. Were they done around the same time? Yes….And your point? I'll also go ahead and say that they're both a part of the Scarlet Syndicate AU. The masterlist should be up pretty soon, and I hope you enjoy this one :3

Word Count: in the realm of 1.8k

*squints* I give NO ONE permission to repost or translate my work. Make your own shit!

Mutants. The next evolution in human genetics can manifest at any time and take many forms. Some develop their mutations when they're in the throes of puberty or while in adolescence. Others have had their mutation since they were born or haven’t had them appear until they’ve gone into adulthood.

In this world, humans far outnumber mutants in population, and people are more content to ostracize those who are mutants, as man has well been known to fear and even hate what they do not understand...

“Table seven is clear, hon,” You turned to see Miss Monica pointing to the back area. Nodding, you grabbed your rag and made your way to the newly unoccupied table littered with pools of water left by sweating drinks and crumpled napkins.

It was only maybe a quarter past eight, but the bar was already running thin with patrons. The quieter hum of voices compared to the usual clambering of laughter and muddled conversation clued you in to the change easily. As you cleaned, you caught a glimpse of the designated VIP section of The Photon Call. There you saw a small group that had been there for at least two hours now.

The woman at the head of the table was dressed in a form-fitting burgundy suit paired with a glossy black heel, blacked out sunglasses framing her face. A muted fruity smell with a hint of something else followed her stride. She came in with two men and another woman, who were all dressed formally. Monica merely nodded toward the woman when they came in before she had Jimmy lead them to the VIP area.

Looking at the group now, you noticed their “leader” of sorts had now taken off her sunglasses, moving some of her auburn hair out of her face. Her green eyes were just visible in the lower light. They had an extra person with them who was sitting across from the woman dressed in deep red. This man you remembered from a short time ago. he came in some time after the group he was now seated with. he was a bit of a crude figure, and he’d been rather transparent about his distaste toward you, his nose turned up at your short tail and pronounced ears as you directed him to the VIP area. You’d been privy to a few choice words muttered under his breath as well.

There was a light sheen on his forehead now that there wasn’t before, now that they'd all finished eating. His scent was more pungent as well; he’s nervous now, and a bit fearful. Though his posture is upright, there was a stiffness to his movements when he was speaking. It was a stark contrast to the others sitting at the table who remained confident and relaxed, though you noticed the growing boredom and aggravation from the head lady as she swirled the drink in her glass lazily.

When the gray-haired man finished speaking, the woman across from him simply raised a brow and checked the watch on her wrist. The other woman in the seat next to her, who was also a redhead, shifted in her seat. Her aggravation had been there since he’d started talking.

The leading woman set her glass down lightly, “Your offer has already been considered and denied, Hayward. I have other matters to attend to, so I believe we’re done here.”

The bluntness and brevity of her statement noticeably took the man aback as he floundered for his words. “B-but you have to understand, Wanda! This is for the benefit of the company-”

“What I understand is you can’t take a hint, Tyler. You call me out past my business hours, which should be well known to you, to propose an increase in mutant laborers as a ludicrous idea to increase production rates for my company. You also know my stance on such practices, which is why I’m left confused as to why you thought I would agree to it to begin with. I wonder if you’re having a gargantuan lapse in judgment, or if you’re really at the meeting point where bold meets stupid.”

The woman, Wanda, remained unflinching as the older man, Hayward, abruptly got up from his seat in outrage. Your hand slowed wiping down the booth seats as you noticed a spike in anger and resentment along with a feeling you’ve come to recognize as violent intent. The other redheaded woman shifted forward a bit, probably as a natural response. Hayward’s back was to you, and he garnered a lot of attention all on his own, so no one really noticed you move closer behind him.

“You don’t think you’ll defer to me? With one call my associates and I make motion to flip your company around on you so fast it'd make your head spin. So, I'll tell you what, you little bitch-”

It was when he went to move and touch Wanda that you restrained the man, your rag wrapped around his wrists and his arms behind his back. His right arm was now bent in a weird way, the connected shoulder probably came out of its socket, but that didn’t make you stop. All the while, Wanda and the people with her remained calm, if a bit surprised.

Wanda raised a brow at the actions of this new person restraining one Tyler Hayward. Now, Natasha warned her that her own senses were going off due to Hayward’s visible increase in anger, and she didn’t need to read the man’s mind to confirm it. Had he gotten anywhere close to harming her or was even capable of it, she would have ended him not even with a flick of her wrist.

But now she’s simply watching you effectively take the unsuspecting man to the floor, both of his arms were bent oddly and essentially broken at this point. A twisted growl streamed out of your mouth with sporadic hiccups here and there. Hayward continued to hurl threats at you as you kept your knees on the backs of his thighs, keeping him from moving.

Nothing seems to register as you simply looked up at Wanda and those with her, eyes shifting between each of them to make sure they weren't disturbed. You kept Hayward’s broken arms locked behind his back with one hand, reaching around and forcefully gripping his face with the other; shutting him up for the most part. You hunched over Hayward’s shoulder and turned his head to face you with your eyes meeting his, your eyes now giving off a dull orange glow.

Followed by what might be considered a misplaced giggle passing your lips, Wanda watched as Hayward seemed to fold in on himself. His thrashing to retaliate turned into a struggle to seemingly just get away from your gaze.

"Done yet?" Your voice came out low and close to his ear, and you heard his heart rate pick up further as your hand clenched harder in his hair.

‘Please, please, please! I don’t want to be here! I have to get out, dammit!’

It was odd for all of them to see this sudden change in attitude, no doubt caused by the mutant busboy who still had yet to say a word to them directly.

You looked up to see Wanda and those with her rising from their seats, the two men moving toward your form still holding Hayward to the floor. The old man was basically blubbering at this point, almost incoherent due to his erratic breathing.

“I believe Sam and Bucky can handle things from here. Do you mind?” Wanda’s voice was even as she spoke to you. You moved off of Hayward’s body and out of the way for, who you now know as Sam and Bucky, to heave him off of the ground. “Take him out back boys. We’ll let Monica know on our way out, give her a heads up before we send in the sweepers.” Her gaze settled on you as you stood up from the floor. You felt a spike of curiosity coming from the woman left with her that only persisted when Wanda stepped closer to you.

Wanda eyed you up and down as your eyes shone back at her. “I’d like to thank you for your assistance, regardless of the necessity. I don’t think I’ve seen you work at Monica's bar before,”

You gave a single nod, “I’m new.” Your voice was gravelly and clipped, Wanda noticing that there was noticeable scarring around your throat that would lead one to assume you sustained an injury of some kind.

Looking into your mind was its own venture. Your immediate memories were a mirror of the events that transpired, the people talking in them making unintelligible noises, not unlike the adults in Peanuts cartoons.

The further back Wanda looked, the fuzzier they got, like the hippocampus was affected directly. There were some that were clear as day: The day your father traded you to the prime minister of Niganda for his own freedom. Your first days under a “Dr. Paine” and your short-lived freedom after the lab was taken down. Some of your time in mutant trafficking including a few of the “masters'' who had you. A clear recollection of the man who had your vocal cords clipped for being mouthier than he’d like. The day you escaped, and finally to the day Monica found you wandering Mutant Town before hiring you here about a month ago.

These "core memories" were on a subconscious and grating loop in your mind so that you couldn't forget them. Everything else in between was basically lost as it was like trying to look through frosted glass. There was little direction and purpose other than surviving to the next day.

Equal parts distressing and intriguing to say the least…

As Wanda spent the last minute or so staring you down, your focus shifted to the woman behind Wanda. You didn’t catch her name, but you know she was a mutant based off of the distinct sweet smell complimenting her rainwater and pine trail.

They’re obviously close; she hasn’t stepped away from Wanda’s side once. Not too many humans would willingly put themselves in the company of mutants. Guess you can count this Wanda woman among those in the minority along with a few others like your boss.

When Wanda comes back to the present, she stares at you with a new light in her eyes as they dipped down to your nametag. “I like you, Y/n. I have a feeling we’ll be seeing more of each other.” She rested a hand on your shoulder and suddenly you smelled a change in her scent- no, it became clearer.

Wanda’s scent was a sugar-coated apricot with a spike of cinnamon as it accented the air around her, then it hit you:

Wanda is also a mutant.

And somehow you knew you’d remember her for the long haul.

#marvel #marvel one shots #a simple meet-cute #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff #???wanda maximoff #hyena!mutant!reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x yn #scarlet syndicate au #jc inkworks #ink.wanda #ib-jc.

98 notes · View notes

kairiscorner · 11 months

Text

felt inspired by laufey's songs (might do a series on these if they're any good)

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

when you can't keep your promise

summary: he fills his lonely nights with a magnum bottle of some wine whose name he can't even pronounce right, with a whole pack of marlboro cigarettes he finishes in a few hours; and he ends every night with you as his final thought before he's out cold and has to live another day tomorrow. another day without you. and it kills him every day when he realizes he's forgetting what you feel like, what you sound like, what warmth you have that's like none other when you sleep together.

word count: 1,309

click, click, click.

he couldn't stop himself from playing with the lighter's mechanism, the cap was too much fun to not flick around with; though he had every chance to ignite a small flame, keep his finger down on the button and watch as the gas spews out of the lighter and prolongs the flame's life, and maybe... do a few worse things than light a cigarette in this small motel room he got. the floor was carpeted, it was a red velvet shade that became a dark cherrywood as the burgundy wine he bought from a local bodega spilled onto the carpeted floors; staining it ceaselessly as the half-empty magnum bottle he bought for himself lay on its side as its contents poured out, pooling onto the floor and creating a growing puddle that multiplied in size as the bottle was emptied of all that it had. he felt over his left hand, his scarred and scratched at hand that endured many sufferings, too much chaos, and... moments of affection that were too fleeting for him to even recollect the feeling of being in those moments. he ran over his knuckles, which were reddened and swollen, what with having decorated the bland, olive green walls of the room with a brand new spanking hole in it that exposed the plain concrete as the dried paint was punched off. he took in a brief, sharp breath as he felt over them; but nothing could ever replicate their touch, no matter how much he ran his fingers over his knuckles, you still were never there.

you couldn't be.

you could never be.

i made a promise to distance myself.

"so..." you uttered in a monotonous voice, your eyes unmoving from the papers that lay strewn in front of you on the coffee table. you sat with your hands on your lap, your lips thinned as you pursed your lips inward; trying to conceal the quiver in your lips, which would give away the sheer weakness you fell victim to when he came home and gave way to the very thing you feared. that he'd divorce you. he'd choose his responsibility as spider man over you, he'd choose the safety of the city, of the world--of the universe--over you.

it's always everything over you, because without everything... where would you be?

"what do you plan to do now?" you asked with a slight crack in your voice, trying to hide the shudder crawling up out of your throat, to conceal the shakiness in your tone. you tried your hardest to remain strong and fortified, even if deep inside, you wanted to cry into the pillows of your couch, scream at him, curse at him for wasting all your efforts into loving him; but then cursing at yourself for knowing you didn't need to put any effort into loving him.

you loved him so much you'd give him your whole life, and you'd do it again and again and again, in every universe.

took a flight, through aurora skies.

peter didn't look your way when he answered, he stared off into a corner in the room, as if the answer to all this confusion, melancholy, and suffering that he's put you through makes any sense. as if the sense of this whole situation was right here, in the living room, but just... doesn't.

"i'll be... i'll be living with aunt may again." he responded in a raspy voice, a sign he'd been smoking again, and in more intense intervals. he scratched his forehead lightly, and as you looked up at him--in search of a meaningful response to a question you had that was on top of a mountain of other questions--you noticed the white of his eyes were tinted red. they were nearly bloodshot, and the bottom of his eyelids were dark, with circles accentuating their roundness; peter hadn't slept a wink last night, and of course, he didn't for the past few days, but you didn't need to know that. you nodded, not exactly in agreement, what was there to agree about? you certainly weren't happy about all this, you weren't the least bit happy when he came over to collect his things and hand back the rest of the house you two bought together back to you. it all just...

"it's surreal."

peter glances over at you with his reddened eyes, seeing how puffed up and wet yours look. your nose was twitching, you looked as if you were about to sob a whole flood of your tears until your head ached again, but you didn't want to give peter that satisfaction. like hell you'd cry for him. you took in a shaky breath as you continued. "last year, you went on and on about filling our house with happy memories. building this house from scratch like we did, getting a dog after building the doghouse that's now good for firewood--filling our days with laughter and happiness with two kids of our own..." you went on, not feeling the trickling of a tear from the sob you were trying your damn hardest to choke back. peter sighed as you reminded him of that delusional vision you two shared, those dreams you both worked hard to make a reality, only to have the only reality you two live come crumbling down on both of you. "it is." he replied as he took off his glasses, tears welling up in his eyes that he blinked away. he placed his glasses back on and lightly shook his head as he headed for the door.

honestly, i didn't think about how we didn't say goodbye.

"but those were all delusions of grandeur."

"...i hope you're happy, peter."

and that was the last thing he could remember from this afternoon. they were all lies.

he wasn't staying with aunt may, he was at a dingy motel in who knows where. he was here, wasting his lungs away at his third cigarette box, and wasting thirty dollars worth of that red grape wine whose flavor he abhorred. it tasted salty, actually.

his tears made it all the more unbearable to drink when they mingled together, when he finally let his tears roll down his cheeks and coat his lips.

just see you very soon.

it hurts to be something.

he choked on the burning tobacco that coated his lungs, his breath was getting more and more ragged. he had never smoked this much in his life, not even when uncle benjamin passed. you were his world, his universe--his everything--and then, you were gone.

the worst part was that it was of his own doing.

he didn't want to vandalize this place any more than he already has, the lovely hole he planted would be a constant reminder to him for as long as he decided to mope here and sulk about his regrettable decision that he let go of you. and had he lived a life where he didn't need to let go of all the things nearest and dearest to his heart, he'd've stayed with you forever. he'd've held you forever, kissed you all over forever, never leave a single patch of your body undiscovered and unloved.

"i'd spend eternity with you. if i just wasn't... if things just... just weren't..."

he choked out those unfinished thoughts as he threw himself on the bed, an ache permeating in his chest as he felt the downpour of sobs come raining down on the sheets. he cried, screamed, and wept into those sheets--as though the sheets were the only ones who could ever comprehend his sorrow, could provide him some ease, some comfort, past his horrible, horrible decision of letting you go to protect you.

you once made him feel like he had everything.

you were his everything. and now,

it's worse to be nothing without you.

a/n: tbh this felt kinda rushed, so i'm sorry if it also feels that way for you TT but i hoped y'all enjoyed this, maybe while crying :' ))

tags !! @thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @sabcandoit @binibinileonara @k4tsu3 @luvstarrstruck @connors-cumslurper @maxoloqy @fictarian

#spider noir #spider noir x reader #spider noir x you #spider noir x y/n #spider noir angst #atsv #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #atsv angst #atsv imagines #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman into the spiderverse #itsv angst

126 notes · View notes

venerablemonk27 · 2 months

Text

Last weekend I was planning to drive out to the west side to pick up a load of birdseed. My coworker had told me that he was out at Tiedeman's Pond the other day, and I said to myself, "I bet there's ducks on that pond. I better go check." So I grabbed my camera bag on the way out the door. And folks? There were ducks.

[ID: A male Wood Duck swims on a pond of rippling blue water from left to right. The duck is presenting his entire profile to the camera, from glossy green head to dark tail tip. He has a brown body, more burgundy at the breast, with finely scaled tan and gray flanks and just a hint of teal peeking through on the wing. Each color patch is bordered with a brilliant white stripe, including a lovely pattern on the face and head. His head feathers are swept back in a longish crest that looks black except for the iridescent green where the sun has caught it. This contrasts with a striking bill in orange gradients with a white patch on top and black tip. His eye is a bold fire engine red. End ID]

I was surprised to find multiple pairs of Wood Ducks very close to the edge of the pond, because these guys will usually fly at the first sign of a human in the area. I can only assume they were desensitized by the frequent groups of walkers out with their kids and their dogs.

There were lots of other ducks to be seen: Lesser Scaups, Hooded Mergansers, Buffleheads, Ruddy Ducks, Mallards. But most of these were way out at the center of the pond and not interested in being photographed. The only exception being a small group of Ring-necked Ducks that were diving for food near the cattails.

[ID: A male Ring-necked Duck swims from right to left on the pond. It is glossy black, with light gray flanks fading to white towards the front. His bill is medium gray in the middle, black on the tip, with a bright white border around the edges, circling the nostrils, and separating gray from black. His eye is yellow orange. His feathers are beaded with water droplets from diving for food. End ID]

But it wasn't just ducks on offer that day! Spring means birds migrating back from the south and hungry from the long flight. I got to watch a pair of Great Blue Herons show up and immediately begin hunting.

[ID: A Great Blue Heron is standing in a pond, with a freshly-caught goldfish in its bill. The Heron is standing with its legs completely submerged in the water, with its long neck coiled back as it pulls up the large goldfish. The Heron is several feet tall, mostly gray, with white on their head and a dark blue cap with long trailing feathers at the back. The goldfish is at least eight inches long, and the Heron appears to have speared it on their long upper mandible, which glows orange from the bright sunlight filtering through from behind. End ID]

I was very happy to see that the Herons were doing their part to control the non-native fish population. This one had speared a very large goldfish, and had to think a minute about how to eat it. They dropped the goldfish back in the water only to recapture it for swallowing head-first. Their partner looked on from a short distance away, not having found anything while I was there.

[ID: A second Great Blue Heron slowly wades by, hunting in the shallow part of the pond. This one shows a flash of dark-blue tail feathers, and the direct sunlight offers a nice view of their bright yellow dagger of a bill and their pale yellow eye rimmed in baby blue skin. End ID]

And it wasn't just water birds that were attracted to the awakening pond. This American Crow flew down to the edge to see what small morsels might be crawling around in the mud.

[ID: An American Crow stands at the edge of the pond. The Crow is facing away from the camera, with the sunlight glinting off their glossy black feathers. They are looking toward the camera in profile, showing one brown eye and a chunky black bill. End ID]

The Black-capped Chickadees were out too. This pair had found a nice little tree cavity, and they may have been excavating it further to use as a nest.

[ID: A Black-capped Chickadee peeks out from a tree hollow, holding a small bit of something in their bill. They are just a couple inches tall, with a gray and tan body, and a predominantly black head. They have white cheeks that start at the small black bill and extend back to the neck. They are staring inquisitively at the camera, with little bits of what looks like wood stuck to their face. End ID]

The two Chickadees seemed to be working in shifts, one keeping watch outside while the other one went in to prep the house. I wonder how many generations of birds have grown up in that little knothole...

[ID: A second Black-capped Chickadee perches on a thin branch with delicate feet. They are sitting very still, keeping watch while their partner works in a nearby tree cavity. There are a few tiny flecks of what might be wood on their face. End ID]

Though, the bird that gave me the most excitement on this walk was a new one. My partner teases me, saying that I have to check every seagull to see whether they're a Herring or a Ring-billed. But on this day I had found a Bonaparte's Gull!

[ID: A Bonaparte's Gull floats out in the middle of the pond. The Gull is white with light gray wings and black wingtips. Their head is mostly gray with patches of white, possibly because they're in the middle of molting to grow their breeding plumage. End ID]

The Gull was hanging out with a nice flock of Lesser Scaups, and I knew I had a lifer in my binoculars as soon as I saw that gray head. Every so often it would take off and fly around the pond, looking for tasty fish to snatch from the surface. They never wandered all that close to me, but I got a few nice shots of those wings.

[ID: The Bonaparte's Gull flies low over the pond, on the hunt for small fish. With wings fully extended, it is apparent that the black wingtips are just a thin crescent at the tip of each primary flight feathers. The Gull is in the middle of a down stroke, head forward, orange feet tucked neatly beneath fanned gray tail. End ID]

For only visiting on a whim, this was a very productive walk. I saw 35 bird species, seven for the first time this year, and one for the first time ever. I suppose that's why birders wait all year for spring migration to start.

27 notes · View notes