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hiraeth-sonder · 23 days

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Kept Dove - Purgatoire

Yan!Sunday x Reader

Even if a bird with clipped wings can only fly so far, it is a freedom nonetheless

TW: pseudo-incest, suicidal behaviour, stalking, general manipulative and toxic behaviour

//Characters may be OOC, please go easy on my glass heart. Spoilers for the 2.0 story quest but also I may not remember things correctly so- Excerpts from the Song of Songs.

Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves’ eyes

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Through veiled curtains and under warm lights, you tug your socks up with a careful hand, your eyes tracking the movement through the large mirror across you. The soft sheer fabric ascends your leg, trailing up and up until it reaches exactly above your knee. Just the slightest askew, you check once more, turning your leg and watching how the edge on your inner leg dips down, sneaking your finger under the garter to readjust its height. When deemed satisfactory, you reach for your sock garters, clipping the metal fasteners onto the ends as the upper ends hang limply by the side of your leg. You do the same meticulous routine for your right leg, putting your legs together to ensure that they are perfectly even.

Hung on a hanger was a blouse, with no evidence of wrinkles or lint. Gingerly, you slip it off and let the cool fabric caress your bare skin, once again peering into the mirror to straighten the ends only to carefully push every little fabric-covered button through equally miniscule openings. It hugs your form perfectly when finished, tailor made to adhere to your body like a second skin, with bishop sleeves to be held together with custom cufflinks. You do so, deft fingers piercing the fabric with the golden optics before clipping the ends of the shirt with the once hanging garters.

Your skirt comes next, prudent and pure. You step into it and bend ever so slightly, bringing it up to your waist to fasten the button that would keep it closed. It is only now that you pad across soft carpet towards your lineup of shoes, from sensible flats to respectable high heels, of shined leather to patent, fit for any occasion. You hook the backs of a pair of heels with your fingers, making your way back to your vanity to slip them on. It is now that you turn your attention to the perfumes decorating the front of the gilded mirror, each of them gifts handpicked by your siblings, bottles easily distinguished by your sister’s fondness for winsome designs and your brother’s partiality for elegance. You uncap a lacquered white glass bottle, the airy and floral aroma that comes from the nozzle is one of their favourites.

There is a light knock at your door, a gentle rap of knuckles against hardwood. It is merely a courtesy, he has no real need to announce his presence when you have long known he would come. Your eyes do not even have to glance at the ticking clock, the knowledge of the minute hand’s exact position of twenty minutes to eight a matter you have grown familiar with over the years.

“Come in.”

Familiar, practised steps barely sound through your room, a few strides until a silhouette appears behind you. Letting out a soft breath, your eyelids flutter close as you turn your head away from the mirror. “I’m afraid you have little to help with today.”

“I merely wanted to check on you,” Your brother’s voice is delicate, even in your mind there is a kindness to his lilting rise.

A sigh escapes your lips. ‘Check on you’ can mean all matters of things, whether it truly does entail merely checking on you is a test only known to him. Your eyes open upon the slightest hint of movement, watching through the mirror as gloved hands pull your hair back, reaching for a tie to bundle it up into a half-bun. The action in itself is practised and skilled, moreso a reminder of how many times he has performed such on the women of his life, it sends an inexplicable grief aching in your heart.

He lowers himself to your level, and as the warm lights cast an intimate gleam upon his features, you get the day’s first look of your brother. Golden eyes softened in gentle fondness, or perhaps some amalgamation of it, cool steel locks lay in perfect formation as his soft wings unfurl to reveal his stately countenance. There is a soft smile pulled across his lips, yet for some reason you must wonder why that tightness in your chest exists so.

“Happy?” You manage to croak out, still fraught with his full attention on you.

Sunday tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, clearly admiring his work as he hums, “Very much so, you look quite comely like this.”

You glance at yourself in the very mirror that has aided your preparation, the small wings at the back of your ears hang downward in some odd shame, the sharp tips of your halo glinting with a keen shine. The dark wings flutter lightly, and that recurring shame seems to bubble back to the top of your mind everytime you are reminded of their existence. A corvid among songbird and dove, a stain in their otherwise blemishless perfection. A pathetic excuse for a halovian, you had little sway, little influence, little image. Your very existence was a means to uphold their depiction.

You were just the child taken pity upon, the mutt picked up from the side of the road to house and feed. Thus, you are an extension of them, whatever you do, however you look, it all went back to them. You sometimes wonder whether they know how much you pale in comparison to their light.

All too quick to shove such a treacherous thought to the back of your head, it would be a cold day in hell before someone pries that thought from your brain. He casts you an inquisitive gaze, one you wave off with your ascent from the chair. Your steps, three steps slower, accompany his longer strides, padding out from soft carpet to thudding wood.

Leaving the mansion is always some arduous task, and you suppose that there is no one to blame but your brother for all the fuss that needs to be sorted out. Twisting hallways, confounding rooms, even the little sandpit of the Golden Hour, it made it so that leaving required his notice, lest you end up arbitrarily lost. Of course, this also meant that you were severely limited in the times you got to leave the mansion, since he always had so much to attend to in the day. And it is not like you refuse to learn, but rather that you cannot learn its ways that you remain unaware. Furthermore, it is exactly because that he does so much that you find it hard to even bring up your grievances about such a matter, how could you? So even if you yearn to see the world far beyond what he has allowed you to see, you very often keep your mouth shut and play at content.

As you emerge from those familiar depths, a wing raises itself to shield your eyes from the sudden influx of bright lights. Penacony, the city of dreams they call it, but to you, it has been nothing more than an incandescent lie. Why else would your sister leave?

It is then you see her, with her flowing light blue hair and her familiar visage. Her attire remains the same as all the advertisements you see with her face plastered on them, her halo tilted to the right and the gems under her left eye in flawless position. Yet, in your heart, your most sincerest of affections borne from years of companionship, you know that it is not her. There is nothing that would infer this thought, the locum in front of you a perfect copy in all matters, but you cannot help but deny the image in front of you.

Turning to Sunday, a slip of your true thoughts revealed through the furrow of your brow, “Who is this?”

“A fool, nothing more,” He spares you a glance, but says nothing else.

“Will she listen?”

It is only then you manage to meet his gaze, not a second more and not a second less, his voice is placid, revealing nothing even now, “You trust me, no?”

“Of course, but I just worry…” Your plea seems to go unheard, and you wonder whether you were even meant to come along if it meant you would only receive this kind of treatment.

“Shall we depart?” He offers to the ‘Robin’ in front of you, dignified courtesy and trained care. You remain behind, watching on. His voice rings in your head, the only part of him you get, “Fret not, dear sister, all will be well.”

In your heart, something twinges with an acrid twist. Though this ‘Robin’ is clearly some cheat, he still treats her the same, still has that leak of affection. You have always known that he never took to you the same way she did, he could try to play at siblingly affection, could try to interact with you the same way he did her, but you knew that he never meant it. The daily check-ups, the gifts, the occasional contact, it all means nothing to him, and in the end, is that not what he does best? Lying with a sweet smile on his face, tempting you with a delusion all the while he wishes for nothing but your descent. The only one he could never perform such deeds to was his own sister.

Yet even in front of a fool, with the face of your sister, you could feel no hatred towards her. Because she has never done anything to warrant such, not when this dream of theirs is one you have done everything to uphold, not when she might have been the only light in your life. So even if what stands before you is a fake, even if you do not know what your brother has planned, you will keep your mouth and play at content.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, in the places of the stairs, let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice; for sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

In the end, he had never even told you where the day’s itinerary would take you, so when you had found yourself in reality’s Reverie Hotel and met with an interesting situation, you had much to restrain from expressing. A group of four people you have never truly seen before and a man from the IPC, seemingly engaged in a difficult matter. They do not seem to notice your approaching footfalls, neither does Alley.

“Alley, just a moment,” Sunday speaks up, gentle yet assertive

“The Family cannot allow guests to enter a dream while bearing burdens.”

The crowd, now aware of your presence, shifts their attention. The grey-haired youth catches your attention, so clearly out of place yet seemingly intertwined, you can only ponder why. Still, it is not as if their gazes remain on you, rather it would be more accurate to say that they were never on you in the first place, positively enraptured by the natural radiance

“Speak of the devil, look who's here! It's Sunday, the most handsome man in Penacony! Along with the singer renowned across the universe: Robin!” The blond, who you vaguely recognise as hailing from the IPC introduces the two of them with a flair, clearly playing up the flattery.

‘Robin’ turns to face him, an amused smile playing at her lips as her eyes crinkle in mirth, “He said you were the most dashing person in Penacony, how interesting.”

An older man and a red-haired woman stand before you, their expressions shifting to alert, yet they are paid no mind.

“I’ve kept you waiting, Mr. Aventurine. This way please, let us speak in private,” Your brother offers, a request that is taken with a courteous quirk of the blond’s lips.

Your ‘sister’ instead takes charge of caring for the rest of the guests, “Astral Express guests, please come this way and rest your feet.”

It is by now that you have completely mentally checked out of the situation, your presence clearly not noticed nor ignored. Though you yearned to return and perhaps sleep the rest of the day away, your feet automatically flanked the guests of the Astral Express so as to guide them, your eyes following after the grey-haired youth who seemed to yearn to run after Aventurine. Oddly, they do not do so, obediently following after the pink-haired woman.

You keep your posture perfect and your expression pleasant, not quite hearing but watching, eyes tracking lips so as to turn your perceived attention to whomever was speaking at present. Your ‘sister’ still enraptures, no matter the truth of her nature. Your ears pick up the vague mention of an apology, her hand held to her chest in polite regret. It is only when the redhead’s lips, a woman you believe is called Himeko, move in a manner that seems to be directed to you that you tune back in, a pleasant smile still painted as you meet her gaze.

“And who’s this? I don’t suppose we’ve met before, have we? Ms..?” She offers, playing at cordiality though it is clear she may be a little on guard.

Your lips move to answer far faster than your mind, practically instinctual. The response you get is kindly, one you are not sure is genuine but it makes your head rush.

The older man, Welt, calls your name, a sound that feels like it should belong on his tongue. There is a familiarity to it, the kind you would hear from an older relative. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

The rest of them start with their pleasantries, and for some odd reason, your chest tightens with a yearning. You had watched them band together earlier, seen the way they interacted with one another and even through your haze, could all but feel the amity between them. These were people who were bound together by chance, people who have simply decided to become this family and not only played the roles, but might as well be actual family.

“Thank you, it's a pleasure to meet all of you as well.”

‘Robin’ seems to fade into the background, a sight you are not used to, but this fool’s interest in you is not a matter you are too worried about. Rather, the new-found attention you found yourself under was now almost overwhelming, too much yet not entirely unwelcome.

“If we’re not overstepping, may I ask how you’re affiliated with Mr. Sunday and Ms. Robin?” Himeko’s voice is sweet in your ears, a soothing sound.

“They’re my siblings, my older brother and younger sister to be exact.”

The pink-haired youth you believe is called March 13th, is almost all too excited at that answer, yet it dies to wonder, “That’s cool! But why haven’t we heard about you before?”

“Ah, I’m afraid I’m merely not as noteworthy as them….” Your play at humility is almost entirely accepted, a notion you are at least glad for. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice your brother’s approach, a signal to return back into the background. With a hand to your chest, you bid your exit, “If you’ll excuse me.”

It is another haze that clouds over you when your brother arrives to slot himself into the conversation, one that once again seems to block out the words spoken.

“I apologise for taking up everyone's precious time, and we shan't keep you any longer. If you need anything else while in Penacony, The Family stands ready to serve,” He hums, genteel and ever flawless.

‘Robin’ follows suit, her hand to her chest as she continues the courtesy, “May your dreams be beautiful and pleasant.”

Your eyes fall upon the Astral Express, and though your heart knows what can only be imagined can never be brought to reality, you could not help but wish that you had never been brought in to your siblings. Perhaps in another life, perhaps in a dream far more beautiful and pleasant than this one.

“May your dreams be beautiful and pleasant.”

You were tired, so very tired. If Penacony truly was the world of dreams, yours must be some sick joke for your life to turn out this way. Given this glimpse of what could have been, how could you even bear to keep living in this illusion?

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

His eyes are as the eyes of doves by the rivers of waters, washed with milk, and fitly set.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

The marble railing is cold against your bare feet, one wrong step and you’ll be sent careening off the side of the building, falling into a never-ending abyss. In the distance, playing on the record player, was the vague lilt of your sister’s voice. You could barely hear it through the wind, yet the very fact that she was there, truly or not, was more than enough. You have all but memorised her every song, humming along as though she was with you.

In a thin nightgown, you have long been free from the confines of your strict dress, hair let loose and face bare. Any matter that once adorned your form has been stripped, left exactly where they belonged in your room as your legs danced along to the melody. Chasse, a whisk and a natural turn, your arms wrapped around some imaginary partner, it all came to you without little thought, merely letting the music guide your form. You have never danced before, never thought yourself fit to, only read about the basics in a book a time forgotten, but you think you enjoy it. Perhaps in your next life you will be a dancer, no matter the fame, it would be something you could do without fear of tarnishing another’s image.

Caught in your reverie, you are scarce to hear the knock on your door, the heave of heavy wood and the quick steps to the open balcony. Through the flowing curtains and under the starry night, your brother still looked nothing more than empyrean, regardless of the unnerved furrow of his brow and the dilation of his pupils. You do not stop from your actions, continuing to let your body move along the wind.

“What are you doing?” He manages to utter, not as gentle yet cautious.

Humming, you return his question with another, “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Your dearest brother, the man who allows himself only the most minute interaction with you, the man who would not even meet your eyes beyond the confines of your home, though his words sounded as though they came from a more composed man, the slight tremble to his voice told you more than enough.

“Dear sister, you won’t die even if you take such drastic actions.”

“You’re right, but at the very least I’d be soporose, no?”

There is a pained edge to his voice, visage finally broken out of that placid facade, “I don’t enjoy these words you’re saying.”

“When have you ever?” You laugh, eyes crinkled in levity as a smile pulled across your lips. Bare feet halt from their untethered sway, leaning to meet your brother’s gaze. Your words crawl out from your throat, hoarse from use yet elated nonetheless, “I’m sure that if I were to even look into that head of yours, those few thoughts you dedicate to me would be nothing but pure odium.”

Perhaps you would have been less inclined to disparage your brother once upon a time, more desirous of his attention for once, yet it is now you could care less. His focus means nothing to you now, not when he could not even bother to do so when it mattered most. Even if he threw himself at your feet and begged you to come down, you find it hard to believe you would listen in this state.

Sunday’s voice is soft, yet simultaneously it is the loudest you have ever heard it, “You seem so convinced that I do not care for you, have you ever read beyond what your eyes tell?”

“Would you let me?” The air in your lungs feels faint, turning your voice breathy as tears strangely dew at your lower lashes.

Would he even let you witness such? Let himself become vulnerable and open his tempestuous mind for you to pick and pry? You do not even believe he has allowed any other to come so close. Yet perhaps this is what you need to quell that storm in your chest, the last nail in your coffin, your last reason confirmed.

He nods.

Through dark veils and cloudy bubbles, you see it. The truth of his neglect, the reality behind his constant avoidance, his performed favouritism, all of it some cruel and horrific attempt to distance himself from emotions deemed iniquitous. All those times the clock would read seven forty, all those times you believed him to arrive on some schedule, that damned bird had been in your room all the while. Tucked away in some corner too high for you to notice, it stood watch at all hours of the day, keenly broadcasting your most natural state to him as if it were nothing more than the daily news.

What a monster love can be, its dark shadow following you everywhere, in your most private and public moments, you have never been alone. Longing to embrace, alabaster hands ghosting over skin and breath fanning across bare chest, desiring to possess, to keep that object of yearning within a gilded cage and to tuck the key away. Twisting yet ever rigid, covetous and desirous, it is no wonder that your very existence should always be tied to him. There is no you without Sunday, no crow without dove, for what is a pious man without his conflict of sin?

“I love you,” He pleads, finally raw and true, finally directed to you. His face twisted in pure desperation as he approaches you, with his arms outstretched as though to compel you from your perch, your brother practically begs, “So please, stay with me.”

Beneath your gaze, beneath you, he is but a wretched thing. You never thought him stupid, yet for him to think that this was enough to wipe the slate anew, you must have overestimated him.

You bark out a harsh bite of laughter, void of mirth and filled with scorn, “Do you expect me to just forgive you just like that? A measly ‘I love you’ and years of indifference can just be forgotten?”

“Sunday, you’re nothing but the last etching on my grave.”

Your feet leave the cold marble, tipping off into the unknown abyss below as a breeze flies through your wings.

Your sister’s face flashes before you as your eyes flutter shut, her soft smile the one thing keeping your head clear and your limbs limp. You hear her sing, even past the rushing wind. Your dear sister, the one person who had been keeping you looking forward to another day, her crooning voice that played from the record player in your room, it is now you hear her clearer than ever.

A bird that has never flown can only fall when thrown down, wings unable to catch the wind and soar from its cage, yet it is because it has never flown that this feeling is still a kind of freedom. And as your skin pebbles from the chill and your hair flows along your descent, you have never felt any freer, even if it is only for a brief moment.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves' eyes within thy locks: thy hair is as a flock of goats, that appear from mount Gilead.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Through lace curtains and under warm light, a hand caresses your leg as it tugs white socks ever higher. Soft fabric clinging to your skin as he raises it to your thigh, far too intimate, far too familiar. He does the same for the other leg, knelt at your feet with his head bowed, the socks are nothing but perfectly aligned as per his preference. The garters hung around your waist, silken material his own hands placed upon you, he grasps the clips as he attaches it to the socks, ensuring he does not blemish your skin beneath.

Your arm raises when he brings the blouse, silky and smooth. Sunday lets the cool fabric kiss your arms as he buttons each clasp, meticulously pushing them through each miniscule opening. Another piece he had ensured would fit you without fault, it followed the natural lines of your form without fail. He smooths the shoulders down and presses a kiss to the top of your head, moving to pin the sleeves with optic shaped cufflinks. Coaxing you from your seat, he has you step into your skirt, brought up to your waist and clasped neatly. Your shoes, perfectly shined heels tailor made for only you, are slipped on and buckled. Even the sweet florals of your perfume, another white lacquered glass bottle he gifted all those years ago, is applied by his hand.

His dear sister, someone he has tried so hard to keep at an arm’s length, someone he has done nothing but debase in that torturous head of his, now stands before him, obedient and adoring. Far too tempting to keep away, his arms move to embrace you, resting at your waist.

Instinctively, your arms raise to wrap around his neck, weight leaning against his hands as he bows his head to press a kiss against your lips. You accept him languidly, your eyes fluttering close as he brings your bodies to but a fingertip’s distance. It almost seems meant to be, how they move against each other in a rhythm known only to the two of you.

“I love you,” He murmurs against your lips, the words leaving him so naturally that if one were to tell him that he could finally utter these heavy words to you, that him of the past would have merely waved it off. “More than you could ever know.”

“.....love…”

“..you….”

Your wings flutter shyly around your two faces, as though to hide away from the rest of the world, even your halo trembles ever so slightly, an endearing act as you try your best to convey your affection to him. Still, that does not discourage you from attempting to cling onto him.

He smiles, pressing another, more chaste, kiss to your lips to tide you over. Recovery has been hard for you but he finds he quite enjoys having you so feeble for him. Barely able to even form full sentences through telepathy, it meant that he would be able to hear your sweet voice much more often. You were no songstress, but it is your humming that truly provides him with succour. Furthermore, having you so dependent, so keen for his help, it only serves to soften his heart.

To reintroduce you to the rest of Penacony not as his sister, but as his dearest lover has been easy, and he can only thank his foresight for keeping your very existence so negligible. You would finally get what you have always yearned for, no matter what lies you told yourself, his full and utter adoration, demonstrable and undisguised. Lest you try to leave him once more. So he will keep you in this cage with him, care for you and love you so that beyond reasonable doubt, you shall have no desire to spread your wings once more.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

I sleep, but my heart waketh: it is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying, Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled: for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night.

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #sunday x reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere sunday #hsr sunday

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cocteaucherry · 2 months

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trials and tribulations .2

summary- falling in love with your sworn enemy was not something you planned.

cws- p&p au/ bridgerton au, inaccurate use of regency language, 18+, misogyny, sexual tension, future smut in later chapters, slow slow burn, LENGTHY descriptions, ooc Suguru, suguru x f!reader, accidental groping, not proofread

taglist- @mandysfanfics

a/n-(I wanna go ahead and apologize for putting this out so late, I truly wasn’t prioritizing this part as much as I needs to ^^ but I hope you enjoy more treats coming soon)

“Y/N it wasn't that awful.”

“I feel as if I were choking, can't believe I made a fool of myself in front of him.”

“There was more than one man there.”

“Don't humor me, Mr. Geto glared at me as if I was a stain on his perfect coat.”

Shoko groaned as she laid flat on the blanket you laid out, usually you a Shoko spent your days outside when finished with chores, and seeming as it was blooming through spring it was perfect.

“He's just a highly disciplined man I guess.”

“But it's no excuse to be so rude and conceited.”

“He's a wealthy man- he can basically do anything.”

“Whatever..” you mumbled plucking a blade of grass from the ground to hold in between your fingers.

Although no matter how many times you say “whatever” you could truly never get Suguru Geto off your mind, it angered you whenever he’d make an appearance, most recently in your dreams.

Waking up abruptly to only groan and try to drift off into sleep, maybe if you just stay inside you’d never see him again.

“Y/N! Letter for you!”

Your hands halted from sewing immediately placing the sharp needle down, “From who?”

Your mother smiled giddily as she gave you the letter, the thick paper and the large G seal told you everything you needed to know.

“Dear, Y/N,

“We really enjoyed your company and presence at our estate last Friday, we’d really appreciate if you could be present tomorrow for a more formal tour of the estate,

Yours truly,

Satoru Gojo

“Wow..” you were breathless having to lightly beat your chest to restart your fear-stricken heart, “This is-”

“Amazing I know, this is your chance y/n! No more chores for you I need to make sure you're in pristine condition”

You were put on bedrest for the rest of the day.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

The estate looked a lot different in the daytime, the lamps at night just fully added onto the mystical ambience but now it was just ethereal.

You had worn a nice emerald gown, contrasting perfectly with your updo, you weren’t being led through the manor alone though one of his many servants led you down the halls.

“Sir Gojo will accompany you shortly, he’s slightly busy at the moment.” The man smiled pushing his glasses further on his nose, the man had short dark hair and somehow looked old but young at the same time.

You smiled bowing politely as you glanced around the globe shaped room, “I’ll be waiting.”

“Great, if you need anything miss you may call me Ijichi,” he bowed curtly before walking down the pristine hall.

Seems like everything needs to follow a code in this place.

You thought to yourself as you stepped towards the very large window, the clouds had gathered to a moody gray but the flowers still flowed wistfully.

Somehow the walk here wasn’t as tantalizing as you thought.

If you weren’t as engrossed in your thoughts you would’ve felt or heard the presence that approached behind you.

“Nice to make your acquaintance again miss l/n”

Jolting slightly you placed your hand on your heart, “you frightened me Mr-“

Wait you knew that voice.

You turned slowly hoping to be met with the familiar snow white locks but were instead met with black hair tucked tidily into a bun and a strand of hair falling above his forehead.

Of course..

“Mr Geto,” you pushed out a fake smile trying your best to convince him and yourself that you were delighted to see him, “Delightful to see-“

“Why are you here?”

Wow, okay, very polite.

“Sir, Gojo wanted to give me a tour of the estate.”

He stared at you with narrow eyes as he smirked, “Impossible, Satoru has been ill for the past days.”

“…”

“Uhm, excuse me but..- I don’t think erm-“

“Please stop with the stuttering and spit it out.”

you let out a seething sigh composing yourself, “I was sent a letter.. stating himself he’d like to give me a tour.”

“I heard you the first time,” he groans quietly, rubbing his temple irritatingly.

You both stood in a suffocating relative silence before he surprisingly broke the silence, “I will give you a tour of the outer areas of the estate, that is all I can do. I'm very busy at the moment.”

Your eyes widened and you shook your head in agreement, this man couldn’t be kind to save his life but you’d take anything at this point.

“I’d love to.” A small smile appeared on your face but before you could see his reaction he turned walking out of the room, “Follow closely, I don’t have time to waste.”

You hurriedly picked up your pace as you followed after him, hopefully a change of scenery could help the mod.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

The wind had picked up as you and Geto continued your walk outside, flowers and lush trees surrounded the back area, a path of white colored flowers falling into a different path.

“White flowers lead to the garden, purple to the fruit groves.” Geto kept his hands behind his back at all times as he stared blankly forward, occasionally glancing at the now darkly gray sky threatening to spill at any moment.

“Woah..” the tone of shock came from your lips with a smile, “this is incredible.”

Geto’s jaw ticked as he stopped dead in his tracks feeling a small droplet of water fall on his forehead, “It truthfully is the standard of the Gojo’s, they’ve truly never known poverty.”

So they’re born into this, “it’s truly an amazing feat.”

he sighed quietly, feeling the light drops of water beginning to fall, “let’s get inside, looks like it’s gonna pour heavily.”

Your smile fell as you nodded quickly, beginning to walk back towards the steps of the back door Geto following in pursuit.

You were just content that he had engaged you in conversation, as you began your descent up the stairs something felt wrong and low and behold.

You lost your footing on the slippery steps.

A yelp left your mouth as you prepared yourself for the tumble and for the insults coming from Geto, you quickly shut your eyes.

Except you didn’t fall, you were caught.

You slowly opened your eyes to see and feel a pair of strong hands, one beneath your breast and one on your waist. A blush creeping on your neck feeling the warm sensation on your body.

You stared up in horror at Geto’s petrified face immediately pushing yourself off of him, the blush on the tips of his ears gave him away as he cleared his throat. “I-Ijichi should be able to help you inside.”

You hummed in response trying to contain yourself as you attempted to calm the blush and hoarseness in your throat, “I-ll get to it.” You watched your step more carefully rushing through the back door.

Once you were in the clear you met out an exasperated sigh clutching your hand to your chest, “Mr Ijichi!” You whispered hoarsely beginning to walk through the hall.

What was this feeling? What were you feeling? Surely this was embarrassment correct?

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu x reader #x reader #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #geto suguru #geto x reader #geto angst #gojo satoru #suguru geto x reader #suguru x reader #geto x female reader #pride and prejudice #bridgerton #regency #slow burn #jjk smut

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polyo-nym-y · 8 hours

Text

Bon Appétit~

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Alastor x Female!Reader

| Warnings: 18+ content. MDNI!! ooc Alastor, established relationship(kinda), quick smut with no plot, biting, blood, cunnilingus, fingering, hair tugging etc |

Hello, I’m Nym! This is my first time posting my writing ever!

This horny little community has me so inspired I couldn’t help but write something small. (4,666 words to be exact ;3 tried to get the funny devil number).

Also fair warning I wrote this a bit intoxicated so I apologize if it’s poorly written. But I hope you heathens enjoy it nonetheless <3

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Alastor retired to his tower as soon as the sky turned to a dark burgundy. He sat on his bench in front of his radio equipment. Fountain pen in hand and eagerly doodling away with a calm smile. Coat retired to its stand and his sleeves rolled to his elbows. Finding these late nights to be rare moments when he could allow himself to relax.

Though both his pen and music paused as he heard the trap door rustle behind him. “Hm?” Amused, he set his pen down and sits up from the bench. Coming around to the hatch he stood right beside it. A deep inhale taken as his grin grew recognizing the familiar smell of you. Bending at his hips as one hand swiftly opened the door. The other hand held out to offer assistance to his surprise guest.

The sudden opening of the hatch earned a gasp from you. Nearly losing your grip on the metal bars that you climbed up. You blinked at the hand offered to you before smiling and accepting the help eagerly.

“Now what do I owe this pleasure?” His usual cheery showman tone buzzed in your ears. With ease, he helped pull you up through the trap door, kicking it closed after. His eyes curiously noted the wicker basket you held in your other arm. “Well no wonder you had difficulty coming in!”

You chuckled nervously as he immediately points out the basket you brought. But what else did you expect? It’s Alastor, perceptive as ever. “The climb wasn’t so hard but by the time I had reached the door I was pretty tired…” you admitted with a glance running up his unusually relaxed form. His grin somehow managed to only make your own smile increase. “I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything important. I couldn't sleep and thought I could just drop in and say hello!" You watched as one of his brows rose, earning an audible swallow from you. "Well, actually, I haven’t seen much of you today... or this week really. So I was honestly getting a bit curious about what you've been up to.” You wiggled the basket to him before setting it down on a small side table. “This is my apology for bargin’ on in.”

“Like always I appreciate your honesty, dear.” He folded his arms behind his back as he followed you to the table. With your back turned to him he took the time to slowly look you up and down. Noting the sweet white nightgown you wore that ended right above your knees. Your hair was tied back in a loose bun and you were wearing your slippers. All of this told him you really were in bed before deciding to come to him. His thoughts hesitated when he watched you open the basket. Pulling out a glass decanter of whisky and two matching cups to go with it.

You turned to face him, jumping slightly when you realized he had moved so close to you. With a laugh you waved him off. “Why don’t you put on some tunes for us, yeah?”

A staticky hum left him as he watched you for a few more seconds. He’d nod softly before spinning on his heels to do as you requested. One hand manually turning the music back on while the other subtly snapped behind his back. The music loud enough to just barely cover the sound of the hatch door locking.

He leaned against the desk of his radio station and watched you again. His grin soft as he couldn’t help but relax even more with the jazz on. “So! You really don’t have anything you wanted to talk about? Truly just stopping by to see what I’m doing ?” He pushed, teasingly.

You poured each other a glass before approaching him with his. He nodded in thanks as he took it from you. “Ha ha! No...” You stood in front of him with both hands nervously around your cup. His pointed questioning had you avoiding eye contact as you downed the small drink in one gulp. Fighting to not contort your face from the bitter taste.

He couldn’t help but laugh into his glass as he brought it up to his lips. “Really?” You caught his piercing gaze that was sent over the cup, before you watched him take a sip. “Because a nice glass of rye, jazz and sweet company.” He stares into his glass before flicking his gaze down to you again. “I really can’t help but feel like you’re trying to sweeten me up~”

The look he sent down had heat quickly washing over your body. Feeling the warmth settle on your cheeks and between your hips. He was teasing you but he didn’t seem upset by your presence. That thought seemed to encourage you, though you definitely needed another drink before you spilled your guts.

A nervous smile being sent to him as you put your finger up. “One- one moment.” You quickly approached the decanter where you left it on the side table. Your cup was filled with just a shot as you quickly knocked it back.

He finished his own drink before mindlessly setting the empty cup on the desk behind him. His smile stretched into a wide grin as he watched you desperately try to gain some liquid courage. He could easily help you right now, as he had an assumption on what this was about. There was no denying the odd connection the two of you had developed during your time here. Unfortunately, he was thoroughly enjoying watching you squirm and he was a very patient man when it came to torture.

Which is exactly what this felt like to you, torture. Staring into the empty cup for only a moment longer before leaving it on the table with the basket. You took rushed steps back up to Alastor as you shot your gaze up to meet his.

“Go on, darling, speak your mind.” He encouraged you with a shit eating grin. Your embarrassment and nervousness began to twist and settle in your stomach.

“I…” you slowly started, watching him tilt his head. Your gaze quickly shot to the side as the rest of your words came out rushed. “I would like to touch you-“

His brows shot to his hairline as he stiffened. He knew your intentions were along these lines. However, the sudden bluntness still caught him off guard.

A nauseating silence settled between the two of you, save for the jazz that still played in the background. You began regretting saying anything as your mouth opened to try and form words. You wanted to take it back with every fiber of your being. Eyes still glued to anywhere that wasn’t him. “I-uh wait no. I don’t mean like that- well I wouldn’t mind but- what I mean is- look you don’t have to say anything I know it’s a strong no and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable but I just needed to be honest-“

Alastors eyes never left you as he watched your reactions carefully. You never could lie to him and when you did it was never for long and never done well. So he knew your intentions were pure and your words were genuine. Usually, he wouldn’t even bother thinking it over. It never seemed of any interest to him in all his prior years of living and death. However, with you? He found himself weighing his options. Because he also wanted to touch you. He wanted to invade your personal space more than he would usually. You were different to him, it was apparent since day one.

“Alright.” he watched you snap your gaze up to him so suddenly he could’ve sworn he heard your neck crack. Shock written over your features as he pushed himself off from leaning against the desk.

“Wait, what?” You asked stunned as your eyes followed his movements. His body shifted slightly to the bench right beside him, smoothly lowering to sit.

“I’m giving you permission, my dear.” After making himself comfortable he motioned you to come closer. Obediently, you shuffled slowly up to him as he spoke again. “Although we will need to discuss terms first.”

You stopped a foot from his seated form. “Terms?” You questioned half listening. You were more focused on greedily taking in his relaxed state. Shamelessly appreciating the sight of him, no doubt thanks to the two drinks. Your eyes were on his lap, scanning down his exposed forearms and stopping on his large hands that ended with sharp red tips.

“Yes, darling, terms.” He noticed your eyes on other parts of him. Slightly bothered you weren't focused on what he was saying. His hand you were staring at quickly snapped at you and gestured to look up at him. “You didn’t think I’d give you such an honor without getting something in return, did you?” His words were laced with venomous mockery.

With your eyes now held with his you hesitated to speak. Feeling your cheeks start to burn more. “I didn’t.. expect to get to at all, so…” your words were so quiet and uncertain. His ears flicked atop his head as he tried to hear you clearly over the music.

“Speak up, dear, you must use your words properly if we are going to do this.” He leaned back into the bench as he glanced you up and down. Allowing you to deliciously simmer in your own embarrassment. “My terms are rather simple. If I allow you to touch me-“ he placed a hand against his chest. “Then it’s only fair I get to touch you too, right my dear?” Dramatically his hand flicked from his chest to gesture to you. Palm being held out for you to accept. “Deal?”

You swallowed dryly as you stared at his large hand. “You want to touch me?” Eyes flicking between his black palm and his red half-lidded gaze. “And we get like.. free roam? Touch.. anywhere?” The mere thought of having his hands on you had you pressing your thighs together. In this moment, you would let him do anything he wanted to you without hesitation. What you were really worried about was his comfort. If you were to upset him by making him uncomfortable, you’d want to die, again.

A static heavy chuckle was forced from him. The fingers on his outstretched hand flexed impatiently. “I wouldn’t say it’s a want from me.” He lied. “Rather so, curiosity? Yes, let's call it curiosity.” Even now he was going to ensure he had the upper hand. “But if you don't want me touching you and you’d rather just chinning*..” his offered hand curled his fingers in and then withdrew to his lap. “No skin off my nose, dear.”

Physically witnessing his hand draw back had panic rising in you. Like this rare opportunity was about to be lost forever. He watched amused as your eyes widened and you stumbled forward slightly with the force in which you spoke. “NO-“ you both cringed at the sudden rise in volume. “No- I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t want you to- it’s quite the opposite actually..”

He watched you shuffle closer until your knees hit his. Again, he noticed your gaze lingered on other parts of him rather than his eyes. “Then spill. What do you want?”

You chewed nervously on your bottom lip. “I.. I want your touch on me, Alastor. More than my want to touch you. You’d turn Hell into Heaven if I could only have your attention on me..” His smile widened when you finally raised your eyes to meet his again. “But I’m worried about upsetting you, Alastor. Having permission to freely touch you seems…too good to be true? And to hear you intend to touch me as well? Whether it’s a want or just curiosity I could care less. Fuck, Al, I’ll feed that curiosity however you want.”

A genuine and loud laugh rumbled from his chest. “Oh ho! what a desperate and pathetic display you are giving me.” He cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes on you. “What can I say? I suppose I’m feeling rather charitable tonight.” Slowly he leaned forward, his hands sliding down his thighs. His fingers gently wrap around your wrists. Watching carefully for any resistance to his touch. “And I promise, Mon Cher, I’ll let you know if I don’t like something. So you needn’t worry about upsetting me.” Truthfully, he’d be quick to wrench your hands away from any area he didn’t like. “You’ll do the same for me, right?”

With a sneaky smirk he brought your hands to his face. Gently grazing his lips across your knuckles. You couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down your spine as you watched him breathlessly. To his surprise though you shook your head no. “I won’t need to.”

A sadistic glint shined in his ruby eyes as he smirked against your hands. The gentle kindness he planned on showing you began to slip. “Oh? Is that so?” A sudden yank of your wrists had you falling into his chest. His warm hands glided down from your wrists to help guide your knees on either side of him. He fussed with your positioning until he was satisfied with your thighs straddling his lap. Taking a gleeful glance at your flustered expression and rigid body. “You sound so certain. What if I wanted to eat you whole? What would you say then?”

He leaned back into the bench as he observed you intently. Heat settled over your entire body as you stiffly fidgeted on top of him. Embarrassed, you didn’t want to rest your full weight on him. But his hands had a firm grip on your hips, pressing you down ever so slightly to keep you in place.

Sweaty hands hesitantly came to rest on his chest, fingers gently crawling up to the top of his shoulders. “What would I say?” your words slipped from your lips like a whisper. Your desire and need for him outweighed your nerves drastically. His hands squeezed the flesh at your hips when he felt you finally relax into him. Entranced, he watched a soft smile settle on your face before you spoke. “Bon Appétit.”

Chest heaving, nostrils flaring and eyes like a hungry animal. With those words, something snapped in him. It quite literally took everything in him in that moment to not simply swallow you whole right then and there.

His jaw clenched as a loud static began to swarm around the two of you. He felt his mouth water as he swallowed, having to clear the excess saliva that pooled around his tongue. Savor her, he repeated in his head, you must savor your meal. The buzzing static overtook the music completely until it disappeared with a loud pop, earning a flinch from you. His mouth opened with a purr “Merci.”.

Your breath hitched as he leaned down to close the space between you two. His warm lips ghosted across your own, so close yet so far. Every coherent thought you once had was muddled and drowned. The unexpected intimacy that Alastor was giving you had your heart hammering against your ribs. In that moment you decided firmly, you’d completely give in to him and this desire.

One hand of his shifted from your hip and up your side. Talons trailing up until his fingers laced in your hair, pulling the tie that held it up. As you felt your hair fall freely you tried to close the space between you completely. Lips hungrily wanting to capture his.

He was quick, however, as the hand that remained at the back of your head tightened its grip. Fingers firmly tugging at the roots to guide your head back. A desperate whine leaving you as he forced your lips away from his. “What happened to both of us getting to touch? Or is kissing off limits?” You asked half joking as he dipped his head to place a soft kiss under your jaw. His lips settled comfortably on your now exposed throat as he inhaled deeply.

“You are touching, mon cher. A lot more than anyone else has.” He reminded you with a smirk against your flesh. You felt his lips part as warm breath ghosted the vulnerable skin of your throat. Your fingers trailed further up from his shoulders and up the back of his neck. You shuddered against him as his warm tongue licked a wet strip up. “I wonder, do you taste as delicious as you smell?”

“Al-“ you let out a sharp yelp as you feel a hot stinging pain begin to bloom on your shoulder. Instinctively, with your fingers in his hair, you tried to yank his head away much like he did to you. But he refused to be removed from his tasty meal. He let a low growl out with his lips still suctioned to you, a warning. You hadn’t expected him to literally taste you but it was foolish of you to expect anything less from a cannibal.

Your thoughts began to fog as you felt him suck the blood from your wound. His cock twitched beneath you as if the blood he drank from you went straight to his groin. Any previous intentions on partaking on your end of the deal was long gone. You couldn’t care less about where your hands were. The only thing that mattered now was that his hands remained on you.

You bit your lip trying to hold in the small yelps in pain as he attacked the wound he made. Prodding and poking trying to coerce as much blood as he could without literally tearing a chunk from you.

Desperately, needing more than just his feasting mouth, you rolled your hips against his. You stuttered your movements as he sunk his teeth deeper into you in response. Another whimper left your parted lips as his name tumbled out like a prayer. “Alastor-“

He sighed through his nose, having to will himself to release your tasty flesh. Slowly blinking his eyes open as he lifted up with a suctioned pop. Leaning back to take in the beautiful sight of your bloody and bruised shoulder. He watches closely as beads of red quickly begin to pool and drip over your collar bone. Bleeding into the pure white of your nightgown.

“Beautiful, Mon Cher, absolutely beautiful.” His lips parted to show a bloody grin. His eyes were glazed over as if the taste of you was more intoxicating than the drink he had a moment ago. “You did so good.” You felt his grip in your hair loosen as his fingers brushed through. With his now free hand he began to smear the blood on your shoulder, earning a wince from you. “I think you deserve a reward, don’t you?” His hand cupped your cheek and you could feel your blood sticking your flesh to his, like glue. He pulled at your bottom lip with his thumb as he brought his face close to yours again. “Do you want a taste?”

Before you could even begin frantically nodding, he already captured your lips in his. Pulling back just enough to use his thumb to wrench your mouth open. You gave him no resistance as he dove back in. His tongue eagerly exploring the entirety of your mouth. Spreading the taste of your own blood.

He swallowed a muffled moan as both hands slipped to your hips. Fingers digging into clothed flesh as he grinded you into him. “See?” His lips parted from yours with a pink tinged dribble of saliva connecting you to him. “Delicious, aren’t you?”

Quickly, you licked the bloody spittle on his lips. “If I say yes will you-“ a moan interrupted your sentence as his hands continued to grind you against his hardened cock. “-f-fuck please just fucking touch me-“

“I am touching you, mon cher.” His hands slowed to grind on him at an agonizing pace. The friction slick as you fully drenched your panties and began to seep into the front of his pants. “Remember, use your words.”

“Alastor, p-please-“ your words trembled as you tried to retain some sense of composure. But the teasing feeling of him beneath his pants was going to drive you insane. With a shaky breath you leaned away from him. One hand grasping the hem of your nightgown and yanking it up to your chest. Your other hand sliding fingers under the hem of your underwear to pull them down ever so slightly. His gaze shooting down immediately to take in the erotic sight of your pubic hair barely poking out. “Please just eat me already.”

“How could I say no when you’re pleading so sweetly?” In a blink of an eye he had his hands holding you against him. With a chuckle he stood from the bench, his hands cupping your ass to carry you with him. Your own hands quickly grab his shoulders to keep yourself from falling.

You’re swung around as you hear crashing behind you. Alastors shadow-y tendrils quickly swiping his desk clear in order to make space for you. A gasp leaving you as your back is dropped onto the hard surface with a thud. His hands holding your legs at his hips by the pits of your knees. His taller frame towering over you as you lay sprawled under him.

The grin that spread across his face had you squirming. His warm hands pull you by your legs until your ass is completely off the desk. With only your upper half resting against the hardwood, your stomach does flips, feeling like you’ll fall. But his hold on you is firm as he lowers to his knees. Effortlessly, your legs are settled over his shoulders. You’re practically panting in anticipation as you feel him chuckle against your inner thighs. “Nervous, dear? You’re shaking.”

“Shut up-“ A groan is ripped through clenched teeth as he sinks his teeth into the plump flesh of your right thigh. Hissing, you latch your hand into his hair. He gave no reaction to your grip as he enjoys lapping at the new wound. One of his hands sliding up to give your ass a good squeeze.

You hadn’t realized you were clenching your eyes closed until they flew open. Your back arching off the desk as your breathing hitched. The feeling of his warm tongue running up your clothed slit had you feeling sparks. The blood on his tongue seeped into the already damp fabric, adding another stain to you. “F-Fuck- Jesus Christ-“ he ran his tongue up again slowly, ending with a nice flick to your clit.

“Careful, if you moan other men’s names I’ll become rather jealous.” He hummed against your left thigh as he weaseled a hand between your legs. Sharp talons grabbing hold of the fabric of your underwear and tearing it enough to freely expose his meal.

It was a struggle keeping your eyes opened as you leaned your head forward. Freezing, as you were met with Alastors gaze sent over your exposed sex. He was watching you intently as he brought his face closer to your aching core. “I-I think I’d like to see you jealous.”

“I’m sure you would, you naughty thing.” Finally, without anything blocking his touch, you felt him lap his wet muscle up between your folds. A wispy moan leaves your lips as you remove your hand from his hair. Fingers reaching back to ground yourself against whatever you could on his desk.

The taste of you saturated over his taste buds as a pleased groan rumbled in his chest. His hands wrap around your upper thighs in order to hold you in place. His eyes flicked up trying to see what he could of your reactions. He gave up rather quickly though, losing himself to you fully now.

The juxtaposition of his agonizing teasing now being replaced with determined hunger was almost overstimulating. You couldn’t stop the shake in your legs as he twisted his tongue inside of you. The unnatural length of it reached further than you expected.

His name tumbled from your lips so sweetly it only made him crave your taste more. Fingers digging into your hips as he pressed his face deeper into you. Suffocating himself on your scent as his tongue twisted and flicked inside. When his nose pressed against your clit he felt your walls clench. A cheeky smirk forming against your lower lips. A shudder ran down your spine when you felt his tongue slip out from you. But you didn’t feel empty for long as he easily slipped a finger into you, a second quickly following. You felt yourself forgetting how to breathe as he ruthlessly pumped his fingers into your heat. Erotic squelching filled the small space of his radio room. You hadn’t realized until now that the music was off, ensuring he could hear every sound your body offered him.

His tongue lazily licked your juice from his lips as his eyes flickered between wanting to peer at your face and wanting to watch your sweet pussy taking his fingers so well. “Good girl. Such a good girl, my dear.” You were a moaning mess, unable to respond any other way to his praises.

Your entire body tensed as he brought his lips back to your needy cunt. His mouth suctioned around your sensitive clit. Tongue swiping and flicking, assaulting the bundle of nerves. His fingers stopped their pumping as he pressed as deep into you as he could, fingers bending and focusing on a specific spot. He hummed casually as if he wasn’t making you see stars.

Your body lurched forward as both hands flew to grip his hair. “F-FUCK- A-Ah fuck.” He felt your walls clench around his fingers, cock twitching knowing he had you on that cliff. “So close- please p-please-“

“Hm? Wanting to cum already?” His tone was patronizing as he lifted his mouth from you. A whiny sound coming from you as that build up dimmed slightly, keeping you just before that edge. “I’ll allow it. Only if you’re a good girl and say my name as you cum, understand?”

“Y-Yes- just please-please please-“ Another pleased hum rumbled from him as he lowered back to your sopping heat. His lips suctioned around your clit once more, continuing to stimulate both spots. It only took a moment longer and you finally reached your peak. “ALASTOR-“ A pathetic mewl ripped from your throat as it crashed over you in waves. Every muscle in your body tensed, walls clenching and twitching around his fingers as he helped you through your orgasm. His mouth popping off of you as he wore a wide smirk, lips and chin glistening from the mixture of you and his own saliva.

His fingers didn’t stop massaging your walls until he felt your body relax. Only then did he slip his digits out to greedily lick them clean. His tongue finds its way back to the bite on your thigh. Lapping at the wound while it was still weeping blood. “Thank you for such a delicious meal, my dear.” He would purr as you were still trying to catch your breath. Shifting he moved your legs off from his shoulders in order to stand back up. His warm hands wrapping your legs around his waist as he stepped forward leaning into you. He helps lift you up just enough to scooch you fully on the desk once more. Your eyes lazily watch him loom back over you as you try to sit up on your elbows. His smile devious as he slips his red talons under his suspenders, slowly slinking them off of his shoulders as he purred down to you. “What do you say, darling, are you ready for dessert?”

And you then knew that your night was far from over…

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*Chinning: 20s slang meaning ‘talking’.

#alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #alastor smut #alastor x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel smut #alastor x reader smut

82 notes · View notes

mcntsee · 2 months

Text

— my angel

Summary: Fires of passion, ashes of hate epilogue! Months had slipped away since the night they barely escaped from the crumbling building. The memories of that night’s hours-long conversation haunted Kaz’s thoughts until the moment he laid eyes on her at the party—the very gathering where he decided to finally set them both free.

Warnings: Mentions of drinking, low self-esteem, negative self-perception and self-doubt. Past relationships, mentions of breakup and heartbreak. No happy ending? (In my opinion, it is a happy-ish ending) and kind of ooc Kaz. Not proofread, so excuse any grammar mistakes.

Authors notes: In my opinion this can be read as a standalone or two-parter too. Anyway, this was, originally, going to be the ending to the series and, although the ending ended up being entirely different, I really liked this and wanted to do something with it. Lastly, there is no use of “Y/n”

The ballroom was alive with an electric energy, each corner aglow with the soft, golden hues emanating from the large chandelier adorning the ceiling. Its crystal facets refracted the light, casting intricate patterns across the room. Couples moved with effortless grace on the polished dance floor, their silhouettes swaying in perfect harmony to the melodious strains of the band.

Clusters of guests mingled and conversed, their laughter and animated gestures mixing with the soft tunes as waiters navigated skillfully through the crowd, balancing trays laden with glasses of champagne. The clinking of crystal and murmurs of delight filled the air as guests indulged in the sparkling libations, toasting to love, laughter, and the joy of the moment.

The soft glow of candlelight flickered against the ornate décor, casting shadows that danced playfully along the walls. The scent of fresh flowers perfumed the air, their delicate fragrance mingling with the sweet notes of champagne and the tantalizing aroma of gourmet delicacies being served.

His crew’s laughter reached his ears as he continued to glance around the bustling ballroom, the cacophony of voices blending into a steady hum. Their conversations ebbed and flowed, barely audible over the swell of music and the clinking of glasses.

His eyes swept over the crowd, scanning every familiar and unfamiliar silhouette, searching for a mark among the pigeons ripe for the picking. They moved back and forth between the guests' faces, seeking out the perfect opportunity, until they finally landed on her.

There, amidst the sea of unfamiliar faces, stood her, illuminated by the soft glow of the chandelier above. Her hair was expertly styled into a fancy yet slightly messy bun that exuded an effortless elegance. Delicate rhinestones in shades of gold adorned the intricate twists and turns of her updo, while loose strands cascaded gracefully, framing her face with a captivating allure.

Her dress, a vision in forest green, draped elegantly over her figure, accentuating every curve with effortless grace. The low back of the gown hinted at a hint of allure, teasing without revealing too much, leaving just enough to the imagination. The fabric shimmered in the light, casting a subtle sheen that complemented the richness of her hair and the sparkle of her eyes.

His eyes traveled down her figure, lingering on her choice of footwear—a stunning pair of gold heels that accentuated the graceful curve of her ankles. The heels, with their intricate design and shimmering finish, perfectly complementing the forest green of her dress. With each step she took, the heels added a subtle sway to her movements, adding an extra layer of elegance to her demeanor.

But it was the jewelry that truly caught his eye—simple yet elegant in its design. He remembered the day he stole those pieces for her years ago, after catching her longing gaze upon the shop's window where they were displayed. The gold-dangling earrings perfectly matched her bracelet and necklace. Each piece seemed to enhance her natural beauty, radiating a quiet confidence and effortless charm that left his eyes frozen in place, unable to tear his gaze away from her mesmerizing presence.

He couldn’t hear her laughter amidst the cacophony of noise in the room, but he didn’t need to; he remembered the sound well enough to imagine it when he saw her head slightly tilt back, an open-mouthed smile gracing her face as her eyes squeezed shut. He watched as her shoulders moved up and down with every sound that left her mouth, the loose strands of hair gently swaying from one side to the other, following the slow movement of her head as she gently shook it.

He attempted to divert his gaze away from her to resume his search for the perfect prey amidst the crowd. Yet, every subtle movement that his peripheral vision caught seemed to tug at his attention, irresistibly drawing his eyes back to her.

They had encountered each other countless times since the building’s collapse, their paths crossing unexpectedly during jobs or by sheer coincidence, such as ending up waiting in line at the same café. At times, they had even spotted each other through the bustling crowds at the barrel, their eyes meeting fleetingly for just a second before they each continued walking in opposite directions.

Just as they had for years, they still fought and plotted against each other's success, seizing opportunities to disrupt each other's plans while praying for their downfall. The only difference was that their reactions were no longer as explosive as they once were.

Ever since that fateful night, after a long conversation and a couple of sips of the rye whiskey she had been so eager to drink, he hadn't been able to keep her out of his thoughts.

The images of her lying in his bed with the brand-new sheets below her consumed his every thought during the day.

The way that, despite her face being streaked with grime and dirt from the collapsing building they had narrowly escaped, her features remained striking. The sight of her sweat-dampened hair, tousled yet somehow still captivating, strands falling delicately across her forehead like they always seemed to do as she lay there. Her injured arm rested on her stomach, while the other hand gently massaged her temple in an effort to ease a headache.

The short sleeve of her shirt had been rolled up to her shoulder, revealing the dried blood that marred her skin. Her legs had been crossed, one foot gently tapping in rhythm to the song she hummed softly under her breath—a melody that had filled the air that night. Her brows furrowed, accentuating the lines on her forehead, as she kept her eyes closed, shutting out the world around her. Her lips tightly pressed together.

At night, while he shifted softly in bed with a subtle turn here and a slight adjustment there, as if he were navigating the landscapes of his dreams with the fluidity of a wandering soul, the memories of what they had once shared flooded his dreams. Each recollection brought with it a pleasant warmth that filled his heart, contrasting sharply with the urgent whispers of his subconscious urging him to wake up. Yet he remained nestled in the embrace of sleep, unwilling to part with the fleeting solace found within the depths of his dreams.

Blinking away from the thoughts that had started to consume him, he tore his gaze away from her silhouette and turned to face his crew. His lips moved, shaping instructions he couldn't recall, and before he could even register it, his feet were propelling him in her direction.

He felt his chest tighten, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration as he navigated the crowd. A couple of guests edged too close for comfort, prompting him to subtly maneuver away, doing everything in his power to avoid contact.

Silently thanking the saints he didn’t believe in for her remaining stationary and engaged in conversation with the woman before her, he moved as quickly as his bad leg allowed, inching closer to her with every uneven step. Despite the trembling of his gloved hands brought on by the encroaching crowd, he kept his eyes fixed on her figure, trying to steady his shaky breathing as best he could before finally reaching her.

After a couple more uneven steps, the sweet, intoxicating scent of cherries wafted through the air, enveloping him in a nostalgic embrace. With a sense of familiarity washing over him, his arm extended out, his gloved finger delicately tapping her shoulder twice.

Her radiant smile illuminated his world as she turned to face him, but it vanished quicker than he'd hoped, replaced by a confused expression overtaking her features instead. Her eyes quickly scanned over his face before she turned back to the woman she had been talking to, politely excusing herself from their conversation. Then, her attention swung back to him, and her focus was now entirely on his presence. “Brekker?”

His attention fixated on her face, meticulously memorizing the details that had been obscured from afar. He studied the subtle pink blush that graced her cheeks, then shifted his focus to the dark eyeshadow that accentuated the brightness of her eyes. As her lips moved once more, his gaze descended, settling on her lips, admiring the deep red hue of the lipstick she had chosen.

“Kaz?”

The gentle sound of her voice calling his name snapped him out of the trance. With a swift transition, the muffled sounds in his ear sharpened into clarity as he recentered his focus and locked eyes with her.

He cleared his throat, a subtle nervousness betraying his composed exterior, before extending his arm once more. His palm facing upward as he offered her his hand to take. “Dance with me, love.”

In a matter of seconds, her vibrant smile reappeared, accompanied by a quiet giggle that escaped her lips. Her eyebrows arched in a teasing manner, her voice rising in pitch as she responded, "Why, how could I ever deny you a dance, handsome?" Her hand extended to grasp his, but before it could make contact, he retracted his arm, pulling it closer to his body.

With a shaky sigh, he brought his other hand up, trembling slightly as he began tugging at the gloved-covered fingers of the hand he had just offered her. Slowly, he peeled the leather enclosure away, setting his hand free from its confining cover.

He tucked the glove into his pants pocket, mustering a deep breath, before extending his now-bare hand back to her. The sensation of her skin against his sent waves of nausea churning through his stomach as he battled with the ghost of his past, threatening to overwhelm him like crashing waves. Yet, the familiar caress of her gentle touch eased the struggle, empowering him to emerge victorious.

His previously tentative gaze, fixed on the ground, snapped to their connected hands in surprise. He hadn’t anticipated the tenderness with which she would grasp his hand, nor did he recall how deeply he once cherished the sensation of her skin against his own.

Her other hand slowly advanced, delicately grasping his chin as she awaited his reaction. Sensing his acceptance of her touch, she gently guided his face upward to meet her gaze, offering an affirming nod and a tender smile. As his surprise subsided, he returned the nod, softly squeezing her hand before leading her to the dance floor.

They found solace in a secluded corner, away from the throng of dancing couples and prying eyes. He swiftly withdrew his hand from hers, wiping away the sweat on his pants as his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

He gauged his hand’s dryness before cautiously raising it, meeting her gaze once more, anticipating a teasing glint in her eyes. However, to his surprise, he found a warm smile gracing her lips, accompanied by an understanding gaze that met his nervous one. Without hesitation, she raised her arm and connected her hand with his once more.

With another shaky breath escaping his lips, he maintained eye contact as his free hand snuck around her waist, drawing her closer until their chests gently pressed together. Simultaneously, her free hand found its place on his shoulder, completing their embrace as they prepared to dance.

As the music enveloped them in its tender embrace, they began to sway in perfect harmony.

"Do you think that, perhaps, our love was too potent to coexist?" she whispered, her eyes probing his face for an answer as they swayed together on the dance floor.

His face turned to hers, her question echoing in his mind as he searched for an answer. “I believe it still is.” Her eyes shifted away from his, flickering back and forth as she processed his response.

With each step, their movements flowed effortlessly, as if guided by an unseen force. His hand, firm yet gentle as it led her through each graceful turn and dip, while her touch, light as a feather, traced patterns of warmth across his shoulder.

“There’s—” He hesitated, his gaze lingering on her face, before reluctantly tearing his eyes away, searching for the right words. “There is a breathtaking ache in knowing I’ll never forget our love.”

Their bodies moved as one, the music fading into the background as his heart’s erratic rhythm drowned out all other sounds. He hesitated, the weight of the words he needed to say hanging heavy on his tongue. “I can’t keep doing this, love.”

With a sigh, her movements stilled, and her arms lowered from their previous position on his body. Just as she had done before, his hand moved slowly, delicately grasping her chin before gently guiding her face upward to meet his gaze.

At the sight of her teary eyes, his heart dropped, making him regret his words. With a tender touch, his bare hand moved up from her chin, tracing the curve of her cheek, seeking solace in the warmth of her skin, while his gloved hand joined in, enveloping her face gently between both. As a tear escaped her eye, his thumb instinctively moved to gently wipe it away.

After a moment, he gently took her hand in his and guided her away from the dance floor, leading her towards the door that would take them to the tranquil garden outside.

As they stepped outside, the cool breeze gently tousled his hair, sending strands swaying in rhythmic waves with each gust, rustling the leaves of nearby trees, and sending ripples through the surface of a nearby pond. The air was filled with the earthy fragrance of damp soil and fresh foliage, mingling with the subtle hint of flowers in bloom.

“I meant what I said.” He rasped out. With each step, the soft crunch of gravel beneath their feet added to the symphony of sounds in the peaceful garden, creating a serene backdrop for their conversation. “I can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

He couldn’t bear the burden of resentment nor sustain the weight of a love confined to memories. “I really thought it was going to be you,” he confessed, his stride faltering. Halting abruptly, his grasp on her hand tightened, drawing her back towards him and compelling her to face him once more. “I really wanted it to be you.” His gloved hand reached out to grasp her free one, completing the union of their hands. With one hand bare and the other gloved, he held her securely, his thumbs gently caressing the soft skin of both of her hands. "Sometimes," he admitted softly, his voice barely above a whisper, "I still do."

He found nothing more humiliating than his own desires, and for that, he hated her, because anger was better than tears, than grief, than guilt.

The day she walked out of what used to be their shared room, his heart shattered into a million irreparable pieces. The warmth that had always accompanied her presence vanished with her, leaving him enveloped in a chilling emptiness that still lingered whenever she was absent.

“I can’t keep hoping for something that will never be.” There were days when he believed he had finally moved on from her, only to find himself longing to hear her voice and feel the warmth of her embrace enveloping him once more.

Every day he sought out the sensation of being truly alive because, in truth, the last time he had felt truly alive was when he gazed into her narrowed eyes, their voices rising in intensity, breathing the same air, witnessing her every step as she walked out of his life.

The last time he felt truly alive, he had been slowly dying, watching his world crumble before him as the sound of the slammed door behind her echoed in his ears.

From that point forward, he found himself endlessly replaying every moment they shared in his mind, mourning the loss of what they once had and resigning himself to the fact that they wouldn't be creating any new memories together.

During the initial stages of their relationship, he dwelled in a state of confusion. He couldn’t comprehend how her bright eyes had seen the hell in his and loved it anyway.

She was a kind soul forced to navigate in crowds full of evil. Unafraid to stand up for what was dear to her, never hesitating to shield everything she loved. And, saints! Her love flowed like scorching waves through both her words and deeds, showering him with a kindness he believed was beyond his deserving. And it was only in her angelic gaze that he found refuge, for it alone could discern the remnants of goodness within him.

She remained the sole divine thing he believed in—the one enduring belief he still clung to.

Her touch was a gentle caress that gradually transformed him into a man more deserving of love. Under her influence, he became the type of man who would pause as he passed the florist shop, turning back to pick out flowers for her. He memorized her coffee order and took the time to prepare a somewhat presentable version of her favorite dessert. Her sweet demeanor reached a part of his heart he thought could never be touched.

In contrast, his touch only left claw marks on her, slowly eroding the essence of the girl he had once met in Lij. His voice demanding she transform into something so different from herself. Something filled with anger and cold calculations. A girl he had polished to the point where he could see his own reflection in her.

That was something he regretted deeply. She had picked up all his broken pieces and put them back together, while he had picked her apart, fragment by fragment. And it pained him so much because he knew that Kaz Rietveld would have loved her endlessly and passionately. But he was not him; he was Kaz Brekker, the man who loved her ruinously.

“I can’t keep hurting myself—“ His voice wavered, grappling with the weight of his words, for he knew deep down that that wasn't really it. He deserved to carry the weight of his own pain, regret, and grief, but her? She deserved a life free from the turmoil that plagued him, filled instead with boundless joy and love. “I can’t keep hurting you.”

“Kaz-“

“No! I don’t want to keep hurting you.”

He couldn’t bear the thought of completely banishing her from his life. He wanted to keep her within reach, even if it meant maintaining a cautious distance. He longed to witness her laughter, as he had earlier that night, and to feel the warmth of her gaze upon him. Saints, he still yearned to know if her lips tasted like the cherries that defined her scent.

But she wasn't his anymore.

He knew her like the back of his hand, but he couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that she was slipping away, morphing into a stranger. He knew every single one of her favorite locations, her preferred foods, and the ones she despised. He's keenly aware of her most ticklish spots and knows precisely when to cease the frantic movement of his fingers on her side to evade a punch to the face.

Her favorite color, her favorite type of jewelry. He knows how she washes her vegetables and how she cuts them. What pisses her off and what makes her happy. Her favorite song, and for fucks’ sake, he knows the name of her childhood cat.

But were all the things he remembered as her favorites still her favorites? He didn’t know. People change with time, their preferences constantly shifting, and he hadn't had a real conversation with her until a couple of months ago, and even then, he hadn’t asked.

The warmth of her hands squeezing his brought him back to the moment, infusing him with a sense of courage he had longed for as he summoned the strength to utter his next words, "I need to set you free, and you need to do the same for me."

“I know, but I-“ Her eyes struggled to blink away the tears, their rapid movement tugging at his heartstrings as he watched his beautiful girl fight to maintain a strong facade, a frown etching across his brow in silent pain. “I don’t want to forget you.”

He maintained the sad but soft smile on his face for a moment as he studied her expression. “Am I that easy to forget?” He finally said, his previous smile morphing into a teasing one, his playful tone carrying a mock offense as if he were truly offended.

“No.” She laughed softly, shaking her head as her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “If you were, we wouldn’t be here.”

Silence enveloped them for a while as she took a moment to compose herself. As she averted her gaze from him, her hand slipped from his and moved to her cheek, wiping away the tear that had finally escaped her eye.

When her gaze returned to him, he gently took her hand back in his, feeling the warmth returning to his bare hand. “Will you forget me?”

“My love,” his body drew closer to hers, their chests almost touching as his gloved hand departed from the warm embrace of her gentle grasp. It traveled up her face tenderly, cradling her cheek with affection. “You have a place in my heart no one else could ever have.”

As a soft gasp escaped her lips in response to his words, his gaze flickered down to them, observing them part in search of words, yet none emerged. After a moment, he finally looked up to meet her eyes, only to find that, much like he had been moments ago, she was fixated on his lips. Slowly, he inched his face closer to hers.

As his face drew closer to hers, he felt the warmth of her breath on his skin, their eyes locking in silent communication, his gaze seeking permission from hers.

The nod of her head came slowly, a silent affirmation that Kaz cherished as he leaned in, closing the distance between their lips.

His shoulders dropped, tension melting away as his body relaxed, and her arms gently wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as they melted into the kiss.

He battled his inner demons for as long as possible, but when the nausea became overwhelming, he reluctantly pulled away from her. His eyes closed as he let a quiet chuckle out.

“What’s so funny?”

"Oh, nothing, love.”

She patiently waited for him to regain composure, and once he did, she waited for him to make the next move.

Tears welled up in his eyes at the prospect of forever letting go of her, yet he knew it was the right decision. With gentle determination, he reached for her hands once more.

His grip tightened briefly before releasing, lifting her hand to his lips, where he placed a tender kiss against her knuckles. As he did, he couldn't help but notice the subtle blush that graced her cheeks and the sparkle that danced in her eyes when they met his.

“Goodbye, Kaz.”

With one final, gentle squeeze of their intertwined hands, he lowered hers, savoring the all-too-familiar sensation of her skin against his for the last time before releasing her grasp.

“Take care, love.”

He stood there for a moment, his gaze fixed on her as she turned away from him. Her shoulders slumped slightly, a barely audible sad sigh escaping her lips before she began to walk away. Away from him, away from what they had once shared.

He allowed his gaze to linger on her back for a couple more seconds before he, too, turned to face the other direction, his uneven steps carrying him away from the scene as a bittersweet smile graced his lips. She did taste like cherries.

For the first time in their lives, they didn’t look back. They keep moving forward, each step a silent acknowledgment of the paths they must now walk alone.

#six of crows #kaz brekker x reader #six of crows x reader #fanfiction #angst #fluff #kaz brekker

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rosiesramblings · 2 years

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5 Nicknames Wayne Has for Eddie, and 1 He Has for Steve

Fandom: Stranger Things

WC: 2.2k

A/N: Okay, this kind of took on a life of its own, and it definitely isn't what I pictured when I first started writing this - sue me I love Steve and Eddie getting the parental love they deserve. Sorry if this is OOC, but I don't really care. Also, sorry there isn't a ton of tickling - I actually got carried away with the plot lol. Hope you enjoy!

TW: Mentions of parental neglect/abuse, brief mention of self harm, sad!Steve - if these things aren't going to be good for you, please don't read! Take care of yourself first. I love you.

To his parents, Steve Harrington had always been Steven, or boy, if he was in big trouble. For the longest time, through most of high school, that’s just how Steve thought everyone’s parents were. Distant. Chilly. Busy. Then, he met Dustin, and by extension, Dustin’s mother. He noticed that she never seemed to call Dustin by his full name, always Dusty, or Dust, or (on one memorable occasion that Steve would never let him live down) Dusty-bun. Still, Steve thought that the Hendersons must be a special case. Maybe that’s why it took him by surprise when he heard Wayne call his nephew all manner of affectionate nicknames.

The first one he took note of (and later teased Eddie for), he witnessed at a movie night with Rob and Nancy at Eddie’s trailer. They were all just settling in; Robin was throwing popcorn at Eddie who failed to catch it in his mouth each time, and Nancy was trying not to show her amusement. Steve was spreading out the Munson’s worn cotton quilt over all of them when Wayne appeared, ready to set out for a night shift at the plant.

“Y’all have fun tonight,” Wayne says.

“Thank you, sir,” Steve says after a beat. “Have a good night.”

“Jesus Christ, Harrington, call me Wayne,” the older man said.

Steve blushed when Eddie snickered at him. “Sorry sir - I mean, sorry,” he said, something deep in his soul preventing him from calling adults by their first names.

Wayne sighed, but his eyes were twinkling. “Well, maybe some a’ your manners’ll rub off on this one,” he said, reaching over the couch and ruffling Eddie’s hair. Eddie shook Wayne off with a yelp.

“I have impeccable manners, I don’t know what you’re fucking talking about, you old geezer,” Eddie said indignantly.

Wayne just snorted before bending down to press a kiss to Eddie’s forehead. “G’night, kiddo. I’ll be back around 8.”

Steve suddenly felt the need to look anywhere else. He swallowed past a lump in his throat and pointedly does not try to remember the last time a parental figure did anything more than give him a firm handshake.

***

The second time he noticed Wayne call Eddie something other than his name actually worked pretty well as blackmail material. It was the week before finals and Steve had offered his services as a study buddy. Eddie was pacing back and forth while Steve sat on the couch and held up flashcards.

It was around eight in the evening, and Eddie had just finished what Steve had counted to be his third cup of coffee since they started studying that afternoon. The caffeine manifested itself quite obviously in Eddie’s stimming, one hand flapping at his side while the other twirled through his hair, and he bounced on his toes whenever he had to pause his pacing to read the flashcards.

“Why don’t we take a break?” Steve suggested, standing up and stretching his arms above his head.

Eddie grinned, poking the strip of skin where Steve’s shirt had ridden up and making him shoot his arms down with a yelp. “Perfect, I need more coffee anyway.”

“Um, how many cups does that make now?” Steve asked.

“Exactly enough, now quiet down about my caffeine habits. Oh, hey Wayne,” Eddie said as Wayne came through the front door.

Wayne eyed the way Eddie’s hand shook as he poured himself another cup of coffee. “You sure that’s the best idea there, squirt?”

Eddie squawked indignantly and Steve hid a smile behind his hand. “You can’t call me that, I’m at least two inches taller than you.”

Wayne rolled his eyes, “I’ll call you a squirt when you’re actin’ like a squirt, and from what I can see you’re actin’ exactly like the hyperactive eight-year-old you were when you first got here. Evenin’, Steve.”

Eddie put a hand over his heart and threw his head back dramatically, “Oh, woe is me, even my own uncle is against me now! Also, I was absolutely not that bad.”

Wayne cocked an eyebrow and looked at Steve, “I used to have him run circles around the trailer before bedtime.”

Steve threw his head back in a (frankly embarrassing) guffaw. “That is one of the least surprising things I’ve ever heard.”

Eddie pouted, but Steve could tell he was holding back a smile.

***

The third nickname Steve hears, he’s pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to.

He was on the Munsons’ couch, dozing underneath that old cotton quilt that now feels more like home than Steve’s own house ever had. It was the middle of the night, so when a shout jerked Steve awake, he reached blindly for his nail bat before realizing he wasn’t in his bed. Steve took a moment to reorient himself before stumbling to his feet when he heard a sob that was unmistakably Eddie.

Before he could make his way into Eddie’s room, however, he heard a low, crooning voice, and Steve realized with an aching drop in his stomach that Eddie wasn’t alone (Steve tried to think of a time when he himself woke from a nightmare and wasn’t alone). Despite every polite instinct in his body, Steve pressed his ear against the door and listened.

“Shhhhh, darlin’ it’s okay. You’re okay,” Wayne said between Eddie’s hiccups, softer than Steve had ever heard from the man before.

“Wayne,” Eddie gasped in such a broken way that made Steve feel like a piece of shit for being jealous.

“I know. I know, darlin’. I’ve got you.”

“Cross your heart?” Eddie asked, sounding years younger.

“Cross my heart,” Wayne answered. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Steve suddenly came back to himself and remembered that he was eavesdropping on a very personal moment. Quietly as he could, Steve padded back to the couch and slipped under the quilt.

A few minutes or a few hours later, Steve was on the edge of sleep. Vaguely, the part of his brain that was still awake heard the squeak of a door hinge and the footfalls of a man who was trying his hardest to avoid the creaky spots in the floor.

Steve decided he must be dreaming. That was the only explanation for the oh-so-soft brush of a weathered hand through his hair, with a tenderness that Steve had never experienced, gentle in a way that made Steve feel like someone precious.

Definitely a dream, Steve thought to himself as he succumbed to sleep.

***

The fourth time Steve noticed a nickname, he was distracted by what followed immediately after.

Eddie had been running his mouth (as usual), but today he seemed to catch Wayne in a particularly mischievous mood. Steve wasn’t really even paying attention - all he knew was he suddenly shot out of his chair when Wayne strode across the room to tower over Eddie, who shrunk into the couch.

“Sounds to me that you need a bit of an attitude adjustment, wiseass,” Wayne said, and Steve steeled himself to step between the two of them before - wait. Was Eddie smiling?

Eddie wrapped his arms protectively around his torso, shaking his head back and forth, face lacking any of the fear that Steve expected to find, and actually quite giddy, what the hell, “No, no Wayne I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I’ll be good, I promise - wahahahahait!”

And Steve sat down, all the adrenaline draining out of his body when he realized that Wayne wasn’t going to hurt Eddie - he was going to tickle him.

“Should have thought of that before you poked fun a’ my mug collection,” Wayne scolded playfully, one hand squeezing Eddie’s thigh while the other dug into his ribs with vigor. Eddie howled, a laugh Steve had never heard from him before this, and, he realized, he wouldn’t mind hearing it again.

“Ihihihihi’m sohohorry,” Eddie giggled out, twisting back and forth but ultimately doing very little to dislodge his uncle’s hands.

Until, that is, Wayne used both of his hands to scribble at Eddie’s hips, and the guy actually screamed. Steve couldn’t help but laugh at the sound, and Wayne shot him a fond look.

“My nephew ever push your buttons a little too much, Harrington, this is an excellent way to get him back in line,” Wayne said with one final tickle to Eddie’s belly that made him squeak and curl up. Then he seemed to register Wayne’s words, and shot an alarmed look at Steve, ears turning bright red. Steve had the distinct impression that he had forgotten Steve was in the room.

“Oh, I assure you, Mr. Munson, I will definitely be putting that information to good use,” Steve said, grinning and wiggling his fingers at Eddie, who hid his face in his hair.

Wayne just chuckled and pressed a kiss to the crown of Eddie’s head.

And Steve was getting better at not comparing his situation with Eddie’s, so he felt proud when he only felt a brief tug of longing in his heart at the gesture.

***

The graduating class of 1986 threw their caps into the air, and Steve got to his feet to whoop and holler with the rest of the Party. Eddie had lived up to his word and had flipped Principal Higgens off with gusto upon receiving his diploma, much to the Party’s amusement (and Wayne’s, though he tried to keep a straight face).

And maybe it was the heat of the July day. Maybe it was the fact that Steve was going on 36 hours with no sleep. Maybe it was the echo of his father’s phone call from the day before, his distant voice reminding him to make sure the house was spotless for their visit next week (their first visit since Vecna), not even deigning to ask how Steve was.

Regardless, whatever the reason, when Steve watched as Wayne threw his arms around Eddie, and gruffly but loudly proclaimed, “Edward James, I am so goddamn proud of you,” a sentiment Steve knew he would never hear from his own parents, well, something in Steve broke.

Before he even knew what was happening, Steve found himself running, running, running away, throwing himself roughly into his car and reversing out of his parking spot so fast that his tires squealed. The tears clouded his eyes as he drove, and he wiped his eyes, furious at himself. For making Eddie’s day about his own issues, for wanting something he knew he would never have.

He pulled into the quarry and he threw himself out of the car and onto the ground, some sick part of himself relishing the sting of the gravel on his shins. He screamed, as loud as he possibly could, and the sound of his pain echoed across the water. He screamed until his throat felt like it was bleeding, until the sound wouldn’t come out right, and then he just cried.

The tears came even faster when he felt strong arms encircle him and squeeze, and he fought to turn and look at the person. Panic shot through him like lightning when he was met with a deeply concerned Wayne Munson.

“N-no, no, you can’t be here, you can’t, you should be with Eddie, celebrating, I’m s-so sorry -”

“Easy, easy son, take a breath,” Wayne said, and it was that tone, the same way he spoke to Eddie after his nightmare, that sucked all the fight out of Steve. “Eddie’s gone to the party at the Wheelers, he won’t miss me for ten minutes. He’s gonna miss you, though, if you don’t show.”

He slumped in Wayne’s arms, and for the first time in his nineteen years, let himself be held. Wayne murmured soft things into his hair while he cried himself out.

When he found he had no more tears, Wayne pulled back to look at Steve. He wiped the rough pad of his thumb underneath his eyes, and if Steve wasn’t so tired that would have made him tear up again. As it was, he just watched Wayne, waiting for the man to pass judgment.

“You’re a good kid, Steve,” Wayne said quietly. “And I don’t know what’s got you so worked up, but I can guess.”

Steve turned his eyes to the ground in shame, feeling caught out, but Wayne just tilted his chin up so their eyes met again.

“It took a long time before Eddie trusted me enough to let me love him. I won’t tell you if he hasn’t, but his father was a piece of work. When he’d come to stay with me, he had himself convinced that love just weren’t in the cards for him. We both had to do a lot of work to prove him wrong.”

Steve swallowed.

“I’m gonna tell you what I’ve been telling him for years. You always have a place to stay under my roof. You will never be a bother. I want you to know that you got people in this world that cares about you. You hear me?”

It took Steve a minute before he found his voice. Hoarsely, he said, “Yes, sir.”

Wayne snorted and pulled Steve back into his chest. “One of these days, son, I’m going to get you to call me Wayne.”

Steve laughed wetly. “Good luck with that, sir.”

After a few minutes or a few hours, they got to their feet, Wayne with a few noises of protest at the strain on his knees. “Meet you at the Wheelers’, kiddo?”

Steve smiled shyly. “Okay.”

And as he drove back towards his friends (his family, his brain supplied), Steve felt something settle softly behind his ribs. He rolled down the windows and let the summer breeze ruffle his hair. He smiled. He was going to be okay.

#tickle fic #kind of #in that there is tickling in the fic #stranger things #steddie #it's implied in this one #tickling #tfb community #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson #wayne munson #might be my favorite character

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stardustincarnate · 2 years

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Baby You're All That I Want, When You're Lying Here in My Arms // Bruno Bucciarati x Reader

GENDER-NEUTRAL READER.

SUMMARY : There is nothing that can compare to early morning snuggles with your beloved boyfriend, as well as contemplation for the uncertain future, which your boyfriend lovingly reassures you of.

WORD COUNT : 1102 words.

GENRES : fluff that transitioned into soft angst (author got a little carried away)

♡ writing commissions are open! ♡

watch out for typographical/grammatical errors.

A/N : this is my first actual jjba fanfic, so i do apologise if bruno is a bit ooc. i'm still in my jjba phase but i'm beginning to think that, oh boi, maybe this isn't just a phase anymore...

A blissful sense of tranquility blanketed this certain morning of yours, like a soft, wistful mist smothering the city and sending it to a serene, enchanted trance. You found respite at the sound of nature thriving at the hour, completely unperturbed by the activities of man and their made machines, only hummingbirds flapping their tiny wings, roosters crowing to wake the lazy up to start their day and feed them, and the shrilly songs of magpies as they traveled across the morning sky, which was painted with soft shades of yellow and purple, laden with so little clouds which produced way for the sun to beam majestically at you as it towered above the city of Naples.

You sighed in sheer contentment as the tantalizing aroma of your morning cappuccino wafted towards you, and it seemed as if it had also permeated through the curtains of your shared hotel room with your lover, Bruno, because he had begun to amble towards you while rubbing the sleep from his eyes and smiling weakly. You reciprocated the latter gesture.

"Good morning, amore."

"G'morning. Would you like some coffee?"

Bruno sat beside you on the empty upholstered chair of the hotel's balcony. As he did, he gave your forehead a quick however warm kiss, and then took your half cup of coffee which he drank to himself.

"I guess that's a yes." You chuckled fondly, sidling your chair closer to his with a sound that seemed to scrape your ears and his, which was the reason why his half-asleep state had vanished. "You can still sleep, Bruno, if you'd like. There's plenty of time before the day officially begins. You deserve to rest, especially after yesterday's mission."

"I want to spend time with you. Consider it part of my rest."

Your smile, unbidden, reached your ears by then, and it infected him vastly. He was looking at you with profound love in his eyes, and, even after only waking up, he looked godly. A ray of soft, orange sunshine dappled his ethereal physiognomy, and the cool, morning breeze gently swayed his dark hair, tendrils now billowing behind his ear. His current hairstyle, one of which the rest of his gang was not privy to, was crafted delicately by you the night before, albeit it was now a tad tousled. You had gathered his bangs, slicked them back, and made a small bun at the back—a hairstyle that seemed to only emphasize his pulchritudinous features, one which revealed his forehead, which you had been peppering with kisses the night before while he whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

Bruno wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer to him. You immediately melted under his touch—an unconscious tendency that would take over your system for every time he touched you, a touch of any sort, as if every piece of you had been made to match his in an incomprehensible, primitive level.

With your head now resting on his chest, you could feel Bruno's warm breath above your head, could feel him starting to caress your generously tousled hair, could feel him kissing the crown of your head. He had done this countless of times, but each time he did, it still felt like the first time. Nearly heart-stopping and breath-catching. It was a wonderful feeling.

"I missed you." He said. You could almost hear the frown in his tone. You knew well what he meant by that; that even if you were always seeing one another due to you being assigned to his team, moments which you genuinely enjoyed were scarce. There was always danger and anxiety. The anxiety which rooted from the question: what if one of us... suddenly goes away during one of these missions?

"I missed you too." You admitted. Suddenly, there were tears pricking your eyes. He heard the impending sobs in your voice, and so he readjusted your positions and lifted your chin up so you could meet his gaze.

"Amore, I promise you, when this is all over, when we finally defeat the boss, you won't have to endure the fear. We will have nothing to fear by then, all right? I'll arrange for us to live peacefully in the suburbs of Naples. We'll have the life that we've always wanted. It will be our own, little heaven."

You nodded, and then the floodgates broke; you began to sob. The tranquil morning made you realize a harsh reality, that there was a lot of normalcy that you and your lover had been missing out on due to the dangerous nature of your job at the mob. You only wanted all of it to end—to finally be able to live a normal life with the love of your life at one of the most beautiful cities in the world. The desperation for that kind of life was so strong, that it hurt when you realized that you still had many obstacles to go through before you could reach that point. Hadn't the seemingly endless traumas been enough for the both of you?

"Shh, don't cry. It hurts seeing you in tears." Bruno wiped the tears off your eyes with his thumb, even though his own eyes were glistening as he looked straight at you. "I know, I know that you want to live that way already. I do too, very much. But we still have to endure this life a bit, okay? Just hold on. I promise, this will all be over soon. I'm always here. Hold onto me for a bit longer, okay?"

Your eyes were still obscured with tears, but now you were smiling. Bruno never failed to give you a haven, build you a fortress against those malicious thoughts which dared to destroy you emotionally.

"Y-Yeah... I will. I love you very much, Bruno." You cupped his face, thumb gently circling over his cheeks. He did the same with you, the floodgates discernibly about to break.

"I love you more, [Y/N]. I love you so much. You mean the whole world to me. I will always protect you, so don't worry, okay?"

Bruno leaned in and kissed your forehead. He kissed it for a long time, his lips seemingly never wanting to leave your skin.

Bruno, your angel, had engulfed you in a warm embrace afterwards, and it seemed to be that you were in your own kind of heaven. No heed of the ugliness of the world and the ugliness of its people. No heed of anything else, only of each other's presence, and the beautiful present.

#jojo part 5 #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jjba #golden wind #jojo x reader #jjba x reader #golden wind x reader #bruno bucciarati #bruno buccellati #bruno bucciarati x reader #bruno bucellati x reader #jjba part five #team bucciarati #anime x reader #anime x you #jjba fluff #vento aureo

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askcapital · 1 year

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Welcome to askcapital!

This blog is about a wandering zorupix named Capital, as they try to decide between two fates.

Be sure to follow my other ask blog, @askpharos!

Character References Ask Hints #askcapital - All Capital-related posts and artwork about the blog done by the mun! #ic - All in-character asks and plot progressions (will not include all artwork, though!) (chrono) #answered - All answered asks! / #asked - All questions made to other blogs! #continued - For RP or interactions longer than a single post! Character Tags: #capital tag - ???

Rules & about the mun under the tag!

Rules of the Blog-

General RP Etiquette rules apply.

Strictly SFW - no NSFW asks/interactions will be tolerated.

I may not answer all asks. Don’t feel discouraged! It maybe be because your ask got lost, or I have answered a similar question before, or the ask you sent me didn’t give me enough to go off on (like “hi!” or “*hugs*” asks, you know the drill.)

Rules of the Characters-

On shipping and roleplaying: I’d be more than interested in roleplaying with my characters, and above all else with friends!

However, please be mindful that I am not open to shipping. The main character of this blog is incapable of feeling romantic love and it will stay that way.

About the mun & links-

Hi, thanks for checking out my blog! I'm Cherub or Bun, I use they/them pronouns and I'm bilingual (spa&eng). Feel free to talk to me via DMs! I am somewhat distracted though, so if I don't reply in a while, you're more than welcome to poke me. Also play Baba is You or else-

Mun Blog - all ooc/personal asks will be answered to this blog, and then reblogged to that one Commission Info - ask through Ask/DM while I rework the sheet! Buy me a Coffee - tips are highly appreciated! Find me on other pages!

♦ AskPharos - Pokémon Ask Blog

♦ I have Discord - please ask off anon for it!

Feel free to add me in any of these pages! :D

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honeymoonfemme · 1 year

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Part V - To Slay a Dragon || Catradora

ao3 link to come when entire work is posted

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V

Rated M

Tags: alternative universe - magical kingdom, angst, fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, getting together, happy ending, kissing, mild violence, ooc Micah, Adora is a knight, Scorpia is a dragon

Once upon a time in the far away kingdom of Bright Moon, a brave knight is given a quest: to rescue a maiden and slay a dragon. But how can Adora rescue someone who doesn't want to be saved?

1214 words

Adora awoke as dawn broke over the horizon and spread its light through the gaps between the trees. Glimmer and Bow had formed a tight embrace while they slept, Glimmer’s face tucked in the space beneath Bow’s chin. Adora collected her things and carefully stole the navigational tool from behind Bow’s quiver. She lingered a moment to watch their relaxed, sleeping faces before heading out.

Perfuma was waiting for her outside, holding a parcel wrapped in a brightly coloured cloth. “Just some breakfast for you to take with you.” Inside were some warm buns that smelled of cinnamon and dried fruit.

“I wish I could repay you for your kindness and hospitality.”

“Oh shush, there’s no need for that. It was my pleasure.’

Adora shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She couldn’t think of anything more to say, and she had to go before Glimmer and Bow woke up. “I hope to see you soon, Perfuma.”

“You will,” Perfuma said confidently. “I have faith in you. I know you’ll bring her home to us.”

That expectation weighed heavy on Adora as she trekked through the rest of the Whispering Woods. The edge of the Woods opened up to a large lake, which served as the moat to the crumbling castle in the middle. There was no way to cross the moat, save for a narrow, rickety bridge.

Adora tested the bridge with her foot. The rotting planks creaked and groaned, but they held. She turned her head to the sky to make sure there was no flying beast circling above, searching for prey. The skies were clear. The only sound was that of water lapping the shore, not the beating of powerful wings.

She scaled the bridge slowly and tried not to look down at the deep blue lake below. Without warning, a plank snapped beneath her foot, causing her to lose her balance. She gripped the side rail, which was nothing more than some tightly knotted rope, and fought to stay calm as the bridge swayed dangerously. Miraculously, the bridge remained intact. Adora didn’t take a proper breath until she was on solid ground again.

Stone bricks from a collapsed turret littered the small island. The rest of the castle was weathered and covered with moss and mildew from the lake. An overgrown path led her to the front gates. The latch had rusted through and the gates were ajar. Adora peeped between the gap and jumped back when she saw what was inside.

The dragon was asleep in the entrance hall.

A loud rumbling snore raised the hairs on Adora’s arms. The dragon was curled into a ball on the floor, its head resting on the end of its tail and its wings folded over its body like a blanket. It was big—big enough to take up most of the floor space—but definitely not one hundred feet tall. Crimson scales covered its back, head and wings, while cream-coloured scales covered its underbelly. When the dragon exhaled, small puffs of smoke escaped its nostrils. In sleep, it looked almost…peaceful.

The only way to get to Catra was to go past the dragon. It seemed to be in a deep sleep; maybe it was dreaming? Did dragons even dream? Adora shook herself. She needed to focus. She skirted around the edge of the hall, her back pressed to the cracked stone walls. She tiptoed up the stairs, wincing every time her armour made a noise. Then the worst possible thing happened.

Her shield fell.

It clanked, banged and crashed its way down each step, before coming to rest at the bottom. Adora froze in shock. The dragon shifted. It blinked its bleary eyes and lifted its head.

“Catra? Is that you?”

Adora screamed and unsheathed her sword.

“Woah, woah, woah, don’t point that thing at me!”

“You—you can talk?” Adora kept her sword up.

“If you ask Catra, she’ll say I talk too much. I’m Scorpia, by the way.” The dragon held out her front limb, as if she expected Adora to shake it.

“Adora.” She couldn’t quite believe she was talking to a dragon.

“Can you please put that sword away? I’ve been stabbed by one before and it wasn’t fun.”

“If I put it away, will you promise not to roast me alive?”

“Ugh, talk about prejudice. These stereotypes are so tired. Just because I’m a dragon you automatically assume I’m going to burn you to death?”

Adora was incredulous. “Uh, yeah. That’s what dragons do.”

Not all dragons!” Scorpia roared with such force that candelabras on the wall rattled. “Wow, okay, didn’t mean for it to come out like that. Sorry, you just hit a nerve there.”

“Scorpia? What the hell are you yelling for?” a new voice snapped. A figure appeared on the landing and all intelligent thought exited Adora’s brain.

Her wild dark hair framed her angular face like a mane, and horizontal markings covered her warm brown skin. She wore tight leather pants and a corset that left almost nothing to the imagination. Her feline features told Adora this must be Catra. Two different coloured eyes—one blue and one yellow—stared at Adora, unimpressed.

“Who are you and why are you here?”

Adora sprung into action. “Fair Catra, I am Ser Adora, a royal knight of the kingdom of Bright Moon. I was sent by His Majesty the King to find and rescue you from the dragon that is holding you captive.”

“Me? Hold Catra captive?” Scorpia let out a great big belly laugh. “No one can hold that wildcat.”

Catra wasn’t laughing. “Spare me the speech and put away that ridiculous sword before you hurt yourself.”

Adora wasn’t used to being spoken to like that. Stunned, she did as she was told. “I am sorry if I have offended you.”

Catra mimed throwing up. “I see the citizens of Bright Moon are as self-righteous as ever.”

“Aw, Catra. Don’t be mean,” Scorpia pleaded. “We never get visitors.”

“That’s because no one cares about us,” Catra spat. “We make our own way in the world.” She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, her biceps flexing.

“That’s not true. The King cared enough to send me here,” Adora said.

“Yes, he cared so much that he didn’t bother to think about what I wanted. He just assumed I’m some damsel in distress that needed rescuing by a big strong knight.” Catra walked down the stairs, stopping a couple of steps above Adora so their eyes were level. “In case that wasn’t clear, I don’t need you.”

Adora’s breath hitched. Catra was close enough that she could see the individual freckles dotting her cheeks. “I see.”

“Glad we understand each other. Now get out.”

“Catra!” Scorpia admonished. Catra ignored her and started to walk back up the stairs.

“Wait.” Adora grabbed her wrist. Catra unleashed her claws and Adora quickly let go. “It’s a long journey to go back through the woods. Can I stay here just for tonight? I promise I won’t bother you and I’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

“Let her stay. Please, Catra?” Scorpia begged.

Catra rolled her eyes. “Fine. Just keep her out of my sight.”

“Woo! Yes!” Scorpia thumped her tail on the floor like an excited dog. ‘Sleepover time!”

#catradora #catra #adora #she-ra #she ra and the princesses of power #spop #scorpia #fanfic #fanfiction #fic #spop fanfic #lesbian #wlw #wlw fanfic

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idc4987 · 8 months

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The Cursed Queen | Part One

*a/n: flashbacks in italics, slightly ooc aegon but i feel like he was a sweet young boy at times*

Late Summer, 129 AC

"You are distracted, Aenessa."

Daemon observed from above as the young woman sparred against one of the squires.

In the ten years that had passed, Rhaenerya's daughter had grown beautifully. She wore the scars on her arms like trophies and became more resilient against the urges in her mind. Daemon instructed her training personally. He'd taught her that to strengthen her body, her mind had to become strong first. Daemon taught her, in the kindest way possible, that being vulnerable was acceptable only off of the battlefield. But he'd also taught her that nearly every place she travelled to, there would be someone who wished to start a fight. Aenessa knew she had to abandon her fears if she wished to succeed as her Mother's heir. There was no place to be childish and no time to worry over the simplest of things. Aenessa had to heal from her curse and push away her mind.

It took moons to master, but, in the end, Daemon was beyond proud to call her his apprentice. She truly was an artist with a blade and a masterful presence in court.

Despite how much Daemon doted on her, he always knew there was a silent competitor. Their relationship with one another was close to Aenessa's tight bond with her true father. Although they had little time spent with each other, Aenessa was certainly her father's little princess. It nearly made Daemon for remorseful for helping him escape from the life of royalty. But after years of being married to her mother, Aenessa loved Daemon equally.

"Mother has another line of suitors prepared for today." She scoffed as a fowl look spread across her features. It was what had awakened the Dragon princess so early. "I think being slightly worried is reasonable." Aenessa retorted, parrying the strike that the squire attempted to land on her.

It had been the same for months. Since Aenessa twentieth nameday, her mother resumed the duties of a royal. Aenessa was to marry. Whether it was for the sake of the crown or the sake of their house, Aenessa didn't know why her mother was so persistent about it. "Of course, but I didn't say you looked worried." Daemon quipped smartly. He had left the balcony from above and entered the training field, unsheithing Dark Sister from the belt at his side. "You are distracted." Daemon dismissed the sweating squire with a wave of his hand. Aenessa had been running circles around the boy for the last hour. He deserved a break before he dropped dead. "You must focus."

Aenessa quickly changed the subject, cracking her neck from side to side and rolling her shoulders. "Strike me as you did during our last session. I wish to try to again, see where I went wrong." The bun of heavy dreadlocks was still tight upon her head and it caused her brow to glisten with sweat. The early morning sun was slowly affecting her ability, she was getting physically tired but still wishing to continue.

Daemon smirked. "As you wish."

~~~~~~

The matchmaking process for Aenessa had been quite exciting at first. She enjoyed being desired. The little girl in her still delighted when a handsome young man, around her age of course, smiled in her direction. But it had slowly become tiresome. The gifts morphed into a mountain in the corner of her rooms. Half of them were empty chocolate boxes that Baela and Rhaena had gorged themselves on as Aenessa wasn't looking. The dresses were all too small or enormous and Aenessa wrestled her way out of the ones that fit due to the unbearably itchy fabric. The idea of courting a man didn't sway in her mind when each turn in front of the looking glass sent her reeling. Aenessa had learned to embrace her scars and the curves that she'd earned from turning into a young woman, but it didn't stop the self-criticising demon in her mind.

It caused her to spend nearly everyday in her training clothes, much to her ladys' maids dismay. Her boots were grubby, coated in the dusty sand that she trained on. Her face was still coated in a layer of sweat, her cheeks flushed and puffed out as she regained her breath. Her hair was always in the same style and her nails were chipped and dirty. The 'cursed' princess of King's Landing had turned into the rebel of Dragonstone, much to Daemon's delight.

"And for you, my princess, I bring forth ten of my finest pigs. They are prize worthy beasts-"

Aenessa blocked out the rest of what the young Lord was attempting to preach to her. She had made eye contact with Jace and Luce and nearly burst into fits of laughter at the faces they were making.

Since leaving Kings Landing, Aenessa had become more bold. It was all thanks to her Granduncle Daemon, something Aenessa knew made her truly indebted to him. Her Mother both despised and loved that her daughter had become more confident in herself. Aenessa spoke more, voiced her opinions on topics she wouldn't have done years prior. The blooming pride Rhaenerya felt was indistinguishable. But at times like this, where the old Aenessa was meant to shine through, Rhaenerya rolled her eyes at her smugness.

"I do believe the princess is bored, dearest." Daemon chuckled into her ear as they both watched Aenessa force herself to conceal her laughter behind a cough.

Rhaenerya sighed. If she gave in now, she had no idea when the next chance to find Aenessa a husband would be. Word had come from Rhaenys. Vaemond Velaryon was taking advantage of Lord Corlys' illness and had called for court. He wished to stand against Jacerys' claim as Lord of The Tides. It was no longer against Luce after Rhaenerya had named her daughter as her air. They had to travel to the Red Keep to attend to court. Rhaenerya had not yet confessed the arranged journey was happening to Aenessa. "Thank you for attending today's gathering, my Lord's. House Targaryen thanks you all for the gifts and honours you have displayed today, but i fear we must adjourn." She almost instinctively touched her growing belly to silently explain why they were ending so early. There were a few groans and huffs from various men in the room, but Aenessa was smirking widely.

She hopped down from the throne that had been specifically prepared for her and hugged Rhaenerya. "You saved me, Mother." Aenessa laughed, knowing she was only getting on her Mother's nerves even more than she had been.

"Go and prepare for supper, you filthy beast." Rhaenerya teased affectionately as she held her daughter's face in her hands.

Daemon spoke quietly to his wife once Aenessa had left them, all three of her younger brothers battling for her attention. "Is she still unaware?"

Rhaenerya looked down at her feet, clearly guilty. "I haven't had the strength to tell her yet. She's been peaceful these past few nights."

Daemon understood the otherwise cryptic messages from his wife. Aenessa had been 'peaceful' for the past week. Daemon didn't have to be clever to realise that, his body had told him before anything else. It thanked him for the extra sleep every morning with cracking bones and a refreshed feeling. "I shall tell her if you do not wish to, my darling." He pressed a kiss to Rhaenerya's forehead and raised a finger to lift her chin up. "She will be fine."

~~~~~~

"You are beautiful, though. I don't understand why you do not believe me." A ten year old Aegon huffed indignantly. He had been arguing with Aenessa for almost an hour after they sat for their annual portraits. It had started after Aenessa quietly sobbed into his shoulder about how ridiculous she looked. The royal painter had portrayed her with much paler skin and made her hair considerably lighter than it was. Aenessa despised how uneven it was, the locks of white Valyrian hair from her Mother's side messed with the brown locks from her grandmother Rhaenys' Baratheon heritage. But what the painter had done to her hair made it even worse.

"Nessa?" Aegon nudged her lightly with his elbow.

"Stop lying." She mumbled, clenching her fists around the blue silk of her skirt.

Aegon looked at the girl, astonished that she did not believe him and accuse him of doing such a thing. "I am not!" He protested. "You are beautiful, there is no debate around it." Sometimes, Aegon did wonder if his Nessa saw the same person he did. "Why do you not think you are beautiful?" He exhaled loudly. Aegon realised he was fighting on the losing side of this battle and that maybe he should listen to Aenessa's reasoning.

"Because I am smart and I can see properly." Aenessa said, matter-of-factly.

"W-well if seeing you as beautiful makes me stupid, than I shall be the stupidest of them all." Aegon said with equal amounts of confidence. "I shall have Father make a decree that any man who sees you as beautiful will be made into one of his lords." He declared loudly, standing up from the bench they were sat on as though he were a mighty knight.

"Would that not be a silly decision? They are stupid, after all." Aenessa argued, thinking over his outrageous statement.

Aegon shrugged. "All the current lords are stupid, I'm certain they wouldn't mind a few more."

"You are peculiar, Aegon." Aenessa giggled, a wide, toothy smile breaking out across her face.

Aegon smirked, pride rising in his chest as he successfully brightened his best friend's mood. "And you are beautiful, my little Nessa."

~~~~~~

Aenessa shook away the memory and continued fixing her dress in front of the mirror on her wall. Despite how much she wanted to see Aegon as a liar, the comment from her childhood always made getting dressed every morning the slightest bit more bearable.

"Nessa?" Aenessa was torn from her thoughts by a small, muffled voice from outside her door. "Are you ready for supper, Sister?" It was Joffrey. He cracked open the door and peeked around the edge of it with a wide smile on his face. Aenessa opened her arms for him and squeezed him tightly as he ran in for a hug. Joffrey let out a squeal as she span him around in the air.

"Where is Nanny, my little dragon?" She asked, peppering kisses all over his cheeks. When Joffrey admitted to running away from her, Aenessa couldn't help but chuckle. He'd clearly spent far too much time with Luce and was slowly catching his prankster attitude. Aenessa always found herself laughing around her youngest brother. Joffrey was the most innocent of them all and it showed as clear as day with how he influenced everyone around him like a beam of sunlight. "Let us go for supper, then. If you've spent all day running away from Nanny, your stomach shall begin growling as loud as Greyghost soon."

At the mention of Aenessa's beloved dragon, Joffrey began a torrential story about his latest painting.

Greyghost was rumoured to be an unclaimable dragon that haunted the smoking volcano on the eastern side of Dragonmont. Without a rider on his back, Greyghost was known to be skittish and fearful of both dragons and humans. Aenessa bonded with him on her ninth nameday after escaping from the castle when the celebrations became to much for her to handle. The Baratheon girls had been bullying her for an unknown reason and Aenessa fled from the ballroom, eventually finding herself outside the castle walls in the cold night air. Greyghost appeared out of thin air. He was a gorgeous creature with a thick armour of greyish white scales and a fascinating map of scars across his body. Aenessa had seen dragons before many times, but being almost nose to nose with one was an entirely new experience.

With quivering lips and shaking hands, Aenessa spoke in High Valyrian as she raised her palm to the snout of the so-called 'unclaimable' dragon. Her pronunciation was terrible at the time, but Aenessa squealed in delight as the dragon nuzzled against her.

Joffrey gasped moments before Aenessa reached the door to the dining hall, finally halting in his frantic recount of the day and breaking her from her thoughts once again. "You won't tell Mother, will you?" He asked nervously, clutching at the neckline of his sister's dress.

She had walked the entire way there, from one side of the castle to the other, with him bouncing up and down on her hip.

"Promise you won't tell, Nessa." Joffrey pleaded with a face that he knew she couldn't resist.

Aenessa paused in thought to trick her brother. It looked as though she would deny his request and Joffrey's face fell. "Of course, my little dragon. I won't say a word." She squeezed him teasingly and nodded to the guards as a signal to open the doors.

The other Velaryon boys were already seated at the dining table in an intense staring contest, time-wasting as their Mother insisted on waiting for the others. Daemon was proudly slouched in his chair at the head of the table when the doors opened with Rhaenyra at his side. Once Joffrey wriggled from her grasp, Aenessa apologised for making them wait for so long and took her normal seat at the table.

"Tis' quite alright, dearest. You have had a long day." Rhaenyra reassured her. "I'm sure your considerate brothers can manage waiting a few minutes before dining." She added with a glare to Jace and Lucerys. They were both aware and fully prepared for the journey that they'd be making to King's Landing the next morning. All Rhaenrya had asked of them was to be considerate and not sarcastic. Returning to King's Landing was going to be a difficult journey for all of them.

*introduction* / *part two*

#hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd oc #aegon ii targaryen #aegon x oc #aemomd targaryen #aemond targaryen x oc #tom glynn carney #ewan mitchell #enemies to lovers #aemond fanfiction #aegon fanfic

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pleasedonteatmedemon · 1 year

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Daki's Death AU

This is an AU I made myself,

( Anyone wanting to use this AU for their own stories, please credit me. )

( My writing isn't the best so constructive criticism would be appreciated. Also, the characters may seem a little ooc, but I assure you its because of the situation and nothing else. )

( Today )

I sit in my room, in a chair, looking into the full body mirror in front of me. The only light in the room coming from two lanterns. I Brush my hair while smiling, humming a soft random tune to a song that doesn't exist. It was morning; therefore, I shouldn't leave my room, I usually don't; and when I do its only for certain purposes.

I go to my drawer, grabbing multiple hair pins, and a hair tie, as well as a small black container containing red lipstick. Of course I don't need a lot of makeup, I'm all naturally pretty, but there's nothing wrong with adding some extra colour to my lips.

Looking back into the mirror, I put my hair in a bun and add in the pins, as well as adding on the lipstick. I smile, "I'm perfect." I say only above a whisper. "That you are...now go and find that human, of course consume her if needed, it should be no harder than usual...good luck.." A voice inside of me says. Its Gyutaro, my brother. "Of course, I don't need your luck though, It'll be just as you said, no harder than usual." I whisper to him.

I leave my room, walking down many hallways, multiple greetings from different peoples. I finally make it to the girl's room. I open the long curtain that was her door, "Matsu-Chan...May I come in?" I ask sternly. The girl looks up at me as she was on her knees putting things away in her drawer, her face held no emotion but the a small smile was there. "Yes, Warabihime, sit wherever you like" She says. I come inside closing the curtain behind me. I have to be careful, if this girl really is a demon slayer, all she'd have to do is open those curtains and I'm done for. Wait? What am I thinking, this weak bitch can't do shit to me.

"I understand we got off on the wrong foot so I'd like to apologize. " I say, putting on a fake closed eyed smile. "No worries, its fine." She says. I raise an eyebrow, it'd seem almost like she was bending slightly over the items in front of her and she was turned the opposite way from me, I couldn't quite see the objects. Is she hiding something? I walk over closer to Matsu-Chan, she turns around, still sitting, the items to her back. "Would you like some help Matsu?" I ask, glaring at her in a harsh manner. "That won't be needed but thank you." Matsu says, her eyes holding still no emotion to them as she looked at me with a small smile. "Hah, so...you're a demon slayer, aren't you? No need to hide it, or are you just some sort of spy? Hm?" I say, a huge smile on my face as a flower-patterned Obi extracts itself from my body and quickly tying itself around matsu, her mouth being covered as well as bounding her legs and arms, holding her in the air. I now take a look at the objects, "Wow really? A sword?" I giggled.

The girl's eyes widen as she lets out a loud but muffled yell, i tighten my Obi around her neck. "Shut up. I'll kill you if-" I start, next things I now multiple people break into the room through the windows, my eyes widen. Demon slayers. I could feel my sin start to burn and my Obi burns away, letting the girl go. "B-BROTHER-!?" I try to yell, there were about three demons slayers, the girl matsu picks up her sword, they all strike for my head, cutting it off. I feel myself burn away, I try to move but I could feel wisteria in my system, someone's blade must've been poisoned. My brother, appears from out of my body, quickly dragging me away from where the sun was shining, but it was to late, all I had was my head and it was burning away. Usually you'd have to cut off both our heads but its different this time. "N-No...Daki! You're okay I-I'm so sorry I'm late you're...you're fine..." He mutters to me, tears starting to form in his eyes. "Brother! Help me, please help me it hurts!!" I plead. The three start dashing towards us. He drops my decaying head and pulls his Sickles out, it looks as if he had teleported right behind them, the three of their heads falls off, now its clear that he had sliced all of their heads off. He turns to me quickly running to me trying to stay out of the sun as he already had a few mars on his body from it, my head almost fully gone, "Wait for me...I'll be with you soon..." He says. Tears pour from my eyes, I cant speak no more, my mouth is gone, this is his fault, he's suppose to be here for me?! Why didn't he save me?! Everything then turns to black. I'm dead now.

( That same day but night and from a new perspective )

I sit atop a building, watching people from below, all the lights and noises and such. My body limp, I can't help but wonder, what was it all for? Just to get some useless revenge? Sure it made me feel better in the moment, but I always wanted more. I then look up at the moon. I shall stay here till daytime. So then I can be with my sister.

Its all my fault this had happened, I don't think I've even fully processed it. I'm not completely sure how I should feel. Oh god...I hope I don't get sent to the infinity castle before I reach my death. Would they even do that? Technically, the upper moon six, isn't dead completely. Or in other words me...and my sister? I'm confusing myself...its best not to think of it-

I feel a very dark presence looming behind me. Its him. I stand up and turn around, then bowing to him. "Lord Muzan..." I say sternly. I wonder what's gonna happen. "Your sister was weak and wasn't paying attention. Her stupidity is what led to her death, not you. Upper six, you're very powerful, don't waste all that time and effort and go kill yourself over a puny weak demon. She was holding you down, You didn't need her. " He says, looking down at me. I couldn't help but feel angry at his words. How dare he speak of her that way. She did so much for him, and this is all he has to say!? "Now, go consume more humans and get even more powerful. Don't see this as a setback, see it as an opportunity to be more than what you are now. I have to leave.." Lord Muzan says, then turning around. "Also.." He turns his head to look at me, a horrifying look in his eyes. "If you even think about killing yourself again, I'll kill you myself." He says.

Oh that's right...He can read minds...I'm not sure how exactly it works but I believe him. Muzan disappears, probably went somewhere in the crowd. I stand up, looking down. "AGHHHhhhhhHHH !! " I scream while looking up at the sky, I was so furious, I've never felt so mad, I don't care if I'm attracting attention, it doesn't matter anymore. I pant, gritting my teeth. I jump down from the building, behind it now where no one could see me, 'what do I do now?' 'where do I go?' 'I've always been here, for centuries!' I ponder, walking behind the buildings with my fists clenched. After awhile, I had calmed down, I found a dirt trail, leading away from the district and I could see that it led two paths one into a forest and another into a village, although it was far, it wouldn't be for me. I decided to go straight and into the forest. My arm was still healing from that sun burn I got earlier.

After about two hours of walking I reach the forest, I see signs on the outside of it saying to not go in there and stupid shit like that. I walk inside and look around at the trees and such for any human life. I could hear frogs and birds chirping, all sorts of animal noises. It was...peaceful? I continue walking on the dirt path for another hour, then finding myself to be in front of a two story cabin. "Huh..." I mumble, I walk to it and open the door, it was pitch black in there. I search the entire house. There was one bathroom, a living room, a kitchen, two bedrooms, and a few closest's. Perhaps its...abandoned? Maybe there's another demon out here in these woods somewhere. I remember seeing some planks and nails inside one of the closest. I can use those to board up the windows, I'll use my sickles like a hammer since I don't have one but that fine. I suppose I'll be staying here for awhile now, I can feast on the people at that village and also I can just go to the entertainment district as well. I think to myself.

I go into one of the bedrooms and sit on the side of the bed, looking down. I sigh, then looking at the dresser next to me, a picture frame..? I pick it up, wiping the dust off its glass. There were four people, an adult woman and man, and then two children, boy and girl, the boy was getting a piggyback ride from his supposedly father, the supposedly mother and father were holding hands, the little girl holding the maybe mother's hand. "Agh..." I grunt, drops of water falling onto the frame, my hands start shaking, whats happening to me? What is this feeling? Its the same feeling I felt when I watched Daki disintegrate. I drop the frame, looking up at the ceiling, tears streaming down my eyes, "Daki...No..." I whimper out.

Without her, this eternity is going to be very long. Maybe someday I'll forget her, just like I how I forgot what turned me to be the way I am now.

#Daki #Gyutaro #Demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic #fanfic #gyutaro fanfic #Daki's Death AU

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gray-morality · 1 year

Text

I posted 139 times in 2022

That's 24 more posts than 2021!

74 posts created (53%)

65 posts reblogged (47%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@catscratching

@gray-morality

@jitterzart

@thefreelanceangel

@crystalrequiem

I tagged 121 of my posts in 2022

Only 13% of my posts had no tags

#fakhri man'tik - 84 posts

#ffxiv - 71 posts

#seda ballard - 43 posts

#ff14 - 31 posts

#wondroustailsofffxiv - 21 posts

#jijivisha - 15 posts

#wolqotd - 14 posts

#arak - 14 posts

#viera - 11 posts

#rp - 10 posts

Longest Tag: 77 characters

#i probably shouldn't have read that at work because i was giggling at my desk

My Top Posts in 2022:

Not one but two sexy Fakhri! I want to take more screenshots but.. what is free time and motivation? xD But considering I worked an hour on his beard texture, since I can't seem to get anyone to mod the thing (and I learned textures are easy with Photoshop 3D ) I had to at least take a decent screenshot.

13 notes - Posted February 1, 2022

I can finally share my bun man! Sketch commission from @cryhollow ♥♥♥ (Check out her Patreon!)

18 notes - Posted September 27, 2022

LFRP

Fakhri Man’tik ■ alcohol, fogweed and gambling. Leaving the Primeval Forests behind, only to wake up one day in a dark alley, between a pile of trash and a rat. Even the cards couldn’t have foretold that he’d take that wrong turn, right into a world of crime, taking humanity’s vices as his own. https://fakhrimantik.carrd.co/ ■ Tags | Hunting, gambling, drinking, smoking, oracle, blue magik, crime, con artist, morally gray

OOC Datacenter | Crystal - Balmung Playtime | Approx. 6 pm to 10 pm EST You must be 21+ | I roleplay mature themes / nsfw In Game RP only Open to plot or event ideas, character hooks, pre-established relationships/rivals, you name it. PLEASE check the OOC section on the carrd linked above.

26 notes - Posted January 1, 2022

Fakhri Man'tik (and Arak) by @cryhollow

I will asgdghasfcdghfdfdgh on all my social media! It's just so perfect ♥ ♥ ♥ https://cryhollow.carrd.co https://www.patreon.com/CryHollow

49 notes - Posted November 14, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

⸻ "To live, and thrive; for we also are a part of this world." ⸻

⸻ Like a flower in the desert We shall bloom despite everything thrown our way, for we also have a right to live and prosper under the sun of Thavnair. Some would push us into the shadows to forget our existence, but we’ve adapted and now we thrive; they’re not the only ones who know how to make a profit in this land.

⸻ What we’re looking for Thieves, con artists, smugglers, information brokers, spies, mercenaries, suppliers, medics, alchemists… This is far from an exhaustive list and if you believe your skills or your business could be of interest to us, by all means, tell us more. Or are you instead looking for our services? Nobles, merchants, adventurers, civilians; come, have a seat, and let us discuss.

⸻ In a nutshell Jijivisha is a RP Cross-world Linkshell community on the Crystal Datacenter. We operate primarily in Northern American timezones and focus on criminal, morally gray and character driven RP, set in THAVNAIR and the Near-East. Think of it as a "Robin Hood" archetype organization - a mix of vigilantism, social banditry and anti-hero.

Communication is done via an in-game CWLS (members and associates) and a Discord server (public). Jijivisha also has a Free Company on Balmung but joining is not mandatory.

⸻ CARRD | https://jijivisha.carrd.co ⸻ DISCORD | https://discord.gg/WxqeHx6SqY

61 notes - Posted January 25, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #Sadly my year in review is rather skewed #Since I reblog my own post for Jijivisha recruitment #And commissions always get higher like

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soraavalon · 1 year

Conversation

DM: So you all reach the top of these steep stairs and come into these crystalline glass doors, it's almost silver, the doors themselves are silver but there are these panes of glass that are in these jagged crystal fractals that reflect the light back to you and make these little purple twilight light dance around as they are opened for you by a pair of knights at the gesturing of the Starlight Prince. And you enter the interior of this large round room at the center of the palace, you can see hallways going off with other doors that lead to other places, but you walk in under this huge dome, above you you can see the night sky perfectly clear, there are soft sounds of water there's these lily ponds on either side of this marble floor that seem to be running out somewhere behind the throne room perhaps that the water's coming in and out. You see these cat's tails that are swaying, it's basically these interior ponds that are both wild and bog-like yet elegantly kept. On the far side is a raised dias with these two thrones and you see the monarchs talking to one another there leaned close.

DM: They look up as you all enter again led by the Starlight Prince, first to rise is the king; This monarch that you see is the picture of storybook regality, his mane of greying brown hair begins as small feathers along his high cheekbones and widow's peak hairline, his eyebrows exaggerated into feathered points that remind you of a horned owl. You see fine features elegant and powerful, yellow eyes that are a bit too large to look natural, so perfect as all archfey have been so perfect that it sends a chill through you. A beak-like nose and thin lips in a soft smile as he first sees his son and then a look of consternation as he sees the Lord of the Hunt. His beard is neat, short and pointed at the chin, upon his brow is a silver crown with sharp points reaching heavenwards

Nathaniel (OOC): [in chat] new goal: gotta level up so I can draw Swan's fey

DM: Each [something] with an eight-point star. A cloak of owl's feathers hangs about his shoulders matching the large wings folded at his back and at base of his rich velvet purple robe you can see his feet are owl talons, clicking against the marble floor as he steps down from his throne and quickly comes to meet you all halfway. His presence carries dignity and a sense of wisdom and wit but a small nagging part of your mind and heart will not let you forget that he may be dangerous. So... He holds up a hand to stop you all from approaching further and as he does there are several knights in the room that stand at attention. He looks to his son then to the Lord of the Hunt.

Owl King: [Sylvan] And what brings you all into my home?

DM: As he speaks its a voice in the soft ruffle of feathers, the surface of a pond shivering in the breeze and as he speaks you feel a sense of patience come over you, expectation and anticipation but without rush or haste. The Starlight Prince quickly explains the situation of, you know, that the Lord of the Hunt was working with the Flickering Knave, that you all know what happened to him and he's like 'And also.' He turns and presents Rymer who kind of steps out from the crowd kind of sheepish all of a sudden, his excitement turn into nervousness. And as he steps forward, you see the queen rise very quickly from her throne. She is stunning, of course, wrapped in pale silks and linens that make her seem to float, ethereal with a warm white fur cloak that boasts a large fluffy collar that widens out her willowy frame. Her wings are large and pale as moonlight, dotted with soft silver speckles and along her temples are two antennae, long elegant with golden fronds along the length. Her silver and snow-white hair is braided intricately into a low complex bun and her luminous grey eyes gleam with inner light. She flies from the raised platform and immediately lands the most graceful being you've ever seen and wraps Rymer into a tight hug, crying softly and holding him to her chest.

Mistletoe: Mistletoe is tearing up a bit because this is sweet.

Hunt: Yeah.

Tark: Tark doesn't say anything because why? Like he's trying to piece together what happened.

Marigold: Sometimes, you know, crimes are fun.

Tark: Yeah.

Hunt (OOC): Swan, can I guess that the Queen, I presume, has the moth aesthetic?

DM: Yes, she actually looks like a specific moth; the dotted line white moth or dot-lined white moth.

Hunt (OOC): Oooh. (IC): She just kind of more nods to herself 'cause she's had a feeling regarding the moths and his reaction to it whenever she's seen him, she's like 'Okay, I get it.'

DM: Yeah, the fact he seems to have an affinity for moths seems to clearly come from his step mother.

Marigold (OOC): Aww.

DM: She is speaking low against his hair, you can kind of make out the general 'Oh my god, my baby!' kind of you know a mom who has her kid back and just the Owl King is trying to appear as unaffected as possible 'cause there is a lot going on right now.

Owl King: [Sylvan] I see. And these pebbles are friends of yours?

DM: The Starlight Prince kind of shrugs.

Starlight Prince: More of Tadpole.

DM: He steps aside and lets the Owl King get a better look at all of you. He sort of lingers on Mistletoe and Marigold who are clearly the outliers of the group.

Mistletoe: [Sylvan] Hello Your Majesty.

Owl King: [sylvan] Greetings, you have come here for a purpose I take it? Not just to return my son home?

Mistletoe: Mistletoe looks at Marigold and then is just like, [Sylvan] "Well I'm just along for the ride." and nudges Mary with his elbow.

Marigold: [Sylvan] We were hoping to get some help back to the Material Plane.

Owl King: [Sylvan] Of course. What sort of help is required?

Marigold: [Sylvan] I mean, I would really like to not lose my memories more than anything.

DM: You feel the Lord of the Hunt touch your shoulder and just very quietly

Lord of the Hunt: [Sylvan] You will not. 'You' will not.

Marigold (OOC/IC?): It probably wouldn't be a bad thing then if everyone else lost their memories. (IC): [Sylvan] Okay, we're just hoping to not lose time then.

Owl King: This is a gift I can grant.

DM: The Queen of Moths pulls back from Rymer---

Tark: Tark kind of steps forward and he's holding onto Eudora's hand... (OOC): Hang on, what was whatshisface's name? The guy who took Eudora's...

DM: The Summer Knight.

Ethan: The Summer Knight. The guy who hired Jeremiah in the first place.

Tark (OOC): Got it, okay.

Marigold (OOC): That dickhead.

Tark (OOC): The piece of shit. (IC): Tark steps forward with Eudora and says, "If we could also request, the Summer Knight did something to our friend, she's not herself. We were hoping you could fix that?

DM: The Moth Queen kneels down to look at Eudora, she sort of gently and slowly reaches out and you see her fingers glow as she traces them across Eudora's brow and she frowns.

Moth Queen: I can perhaps heal this

DM: She speaks in the flutter of wings and the gentle warm crackle of a candle wick when she speaks, you feel deeply loved and passionately inspired.

Moth Queen: But either I can do this for you protect your memories as you return home. Not both.

Tark: Son of a bitch.

Ethan: [in chat] maybe it's for the best ya'll forgot some things...

Marigold: If we heal Eudora, Eudora could then use the favor?

Nathaniel (OOC): [in chat] including Eudora's price?

Tark (OOC): What was Eudora's prize?

DM & Hunt (OOC): A favor.

DM: From the Knave of Hearts.

Tark (OOC): Oh.

Ethan: [in chat] Hunt has a book.

Hunt: I have a journal.

DM: Hunt has been keeping a journal.

Hunt (OOC): Yeah which she has been updating almost every time everyone takes a break.

Marigold: Can I look after it?

Hunt (OOC): ....

Marigold: Can I make some edits?

Nathaniel (OOC): You can't read.

-laughter-

Hunt (OOC): Yeah Marigold can't read.

DM: You're illiterate, my friend.

Marigold: Yeah, my edits wouldn't be small.

Tark: Tark frowns.

Marigold (OOC): Don't need to be able to read to be able to cross out.

Tark: I think I could fix her on my own if I had time, so I think the not losing time is the most important.

#D&D mischief #Relni campaign #Relni Recap #Relni Chapter 42 #Adding three more dolls to the list XD #it seems that the blood bond protects Mary from being affected by the memory wipe #while it would be great to forget Heartbreaker and the Knave of Hearts not so much on everything else #Mary you have no right to decide that on your own #Hunt still has the journal it's her contingency for memory loss #the only way he's getting the journal is if he steals it from her

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builtperil · 5 years

Text

;;it’s taken me awhile - somehow - to realize just how NOT a good guy dexter currently is & each time I think of something to prove that fact, it takes me like a MONTH to reclaim my wig

#;;ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵃᵇ. ( OOC. )#;;THOUGH I DO KEEP IN MIND -- THE MAJORITY OF WHAT HE DOES IS JUST BC HE'S A LIL KID BUT A DUMMY ONE AT THAT #;;somehow still above being a villainous character but NOWHERE NEAR CINNAMON BUN LEVELS OF GOOD EITHER #;;I'M NOT JUST TALKING ABOUT. HIM BEING A JERK #;;I'M TALKING about the fact that he does a lot for his own benefit #;;he's LITERALLY broken up a couple just because he wanted a girl to like him #;;& THEN HE AGED HIMSELF UP JUST TO BE WITH HER #;;WHAT ELSE WHAT ELSE #;;I mean #;;MANDARK'S A GOOD EXAMPLE #;;dexter's turned EVERYONE against him & even had mandark himself fooled #;;into being a villain due to how he's treated #;;GRANTED - HE'S NO INNOCENT BOY EITHER BUT STILL #;;HE'S THROWN HIS SISTER AT POTENTIAL DEATH #;;--granted he learned from that #;;THERE'S A BIG LIST & I CAN'T REMEMBER IT ALL RN BUT #;;YEAH @ DL FANDOM -- NOT A HERO

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rozcdust · 2 years

Text

Blame it on me

Pairing: Pet shop trio x f!reader, Hanma x f!reader (platonic)

Genre: Angst with cracky elements

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: Canon divergent, ooc, profanity, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, suggestive, implied cheating, reader is a terrible person

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | next | playlist | original story

You were woken up by a soft buzz of your phone, vibrating in the pocket of Hanma’s white jacket you borrowed before you went out last night.

Letting out a soft groan, thanking whatever prankster of a God was out there that you don’t get hangovers, you untangled yourself from the sheets and limbs of the strangers from the night before, careful to not awaken them, and as your feet touched the soft carpet by the bed.

Your legs almost gave out from the sudden weight on them, but you gritted your teeth, catching the edge of the bed.

The phone stopped buzzing.

Your legs were shaky as you walked over the pieces of clothes strewn around on the floor, falling to your knees once you finally reached the jacket, pulling your phone with a cracked screen out.

You cursed when you saw the time and the 18 missed calls on the display.

You promised Hanma you’ll come home by sunrise after you were done with your bender, but you fell asleep after your hook up.

The clock above the numerous missed calls read 1:36 p.m.

Sighing, you pressed call, putting the phone to your ear.

“Where are you?” Hanma demanded, the amusement usually coating his tone replaced by a hushed worry, and you could almost see him in your mind’s eye, toying with his earring as he paced around the tiny apartment, “You said you’d come by 6 a.m. Where are you?”

You felt irritation rising in your throat.

“Shi, calm the fuck down. Had a one-night stand, fell asleep.” You huffed, pinching the bridge of your nose as you turned to glance at the two men on the bed, and you furrowed your eyebrows.

You remember there being three of them.

But you couldn’t recall their names, you never bothered remembering names of women and men you slept with.

Just how you never bothered walking away when they had a ring on their finger, or how you never bothered walking away when their kids call them crying in the middle of the night.

Just how you never bothered with anything.

“You could have sent me a fucking text.” Hanma sighed, the sound of a couch creaking in the background, “I was worried.”

“Well, I never fucking asked for your worry, did I?” You spat out, starting to grab your things off the floor to cover your nude form, “Fuck off, Shi.”

“Doll-“

“I’ll come when I wanna.” You hung up on him before he could continue, pulling your clothes back on haphazardly, rage boiling inside you as you picked up your purse and slipped on the jacket.

It’s been a year since you moved in with Hanma, and he’s been nagging you the entire time, always acting like a worried father, a look which very much did not suit the Shinigami that man pretended to be.

He was just a sad, lonely man self-medicating on the daily now.

As did you.

Carefully closing the creaky bedroom doors behind yourself, you tiptoed through the apartment all too well lit for your taste, almost tripping over a bag of cat food.

“Leaving us so soon?” A voice called out, and you looked up from where you almost fell, gripping the doorway.

Ah, there he was.

You knew there was a third guy.

His large, golden eyes observed you as you regained your balance, a few strands of his bleached hair mixing with his natural colour having fallen out of the bun he had his hair in.

“Figured you’d want me out of here as soon as possible.” You shrugged, dusting off some dirt that was visible on the jacket.

The man’s eyes narrowed.

“Where did you get that jacket?”

You looked up back at him, scowling.

“None of your fucking business.”

The man only gave you a curious glance as he flipped the pancake he had cooking on the pan.

“Sit your ass down. Stay for breakfast.”

You gave him a surprised look, your mouth already opening to reject the offer rudely, but you stopped yourself, the smell of coffee mixing with the smell of pancakes just a tad too enticing.

Fuck it, Shi will have to wait.

The man nodded in satisfaction.

“Would be rude to kick you out after we fucked. How do you drink your coffee?”

You snorted.

“Black, add like 3 spoons of instant coffee. No sugar.”

The man looked at you, scandalised.

“Jesus Christ, just do cocaine at that point.”

His eyes narrowed at your somewhat amused expression.

“I take that back. Don’t do cocaine.”

“Boring~”

He rolled his eyes, handing you a mug of your awful concoction.

Your phone buzzed, and pulling it out of your pocket, seeing ‘Shi’ on the screen, you pressed decline, putting it screen down on the table.

“Your partner calling?”

You looked up at him over the mug.

“My roommate.”

“Ah.”

You shrugged, lighting up a cigarette to complete your breakfast.

The man handed you an ashtray, a cigarette somehow finding its way between his lips without you noticing, letting you light his as well.

“Thanks, y/n.”

You nodded.

“No problem.” You looked at him through the smoke, observing the tattoo on his neck, “Sorry, your name?”

The man laughed.

“Wow, forgetting it so easily?”

Your expression was unimpressed.

“I’m Kazutora.” He smirked, leaning on the counter, “I’m sure we’ll be great friends.”

You snorted, looking over your shoulder at the shuffling noises coming out of the bedroom, the two other men all but crawling out to the kitchen.

“I doubt it.”

By the time you finally made it back to the apartment, stumbling and almost falling multiple time, it was well past 6 p.m.

You couldn’t help but think to yourself that you probably should have asked your dealer what that pill he handed you was before you took it, but it’s not like you really cared.

Hanma was waiting on you on the couch, braiding and unbraiding a strand of his hair.

The furrow between his eyebrows smoothed over once you closed the doors behind you, unzipping your shoes and kicking them off, shrugging off the jacket to throw it over the edge of the couch as you plopped down next to him.

“Hello sunshine.” He smiled softly, his fingers extending to wipe away the makeup smeared from yesterday night.

No matter what you did, no matter what words you spat at him, he never got angry at you, never once got upset.

You were so bitter, and he was so gentle.

“Hi, Shi.” You slumped into his arms, drowsy, letting him wrap his arms around you, cradling you like a child as he pet your hair.

“Have you eaten yet?” He softly asked, settling his hands in between your shoulder blades.

You hummed in response, your eyes firmly closed as you breathed in the smell of cheap cigarettes and driftwood that seemed to cling to all of his clothes.

“Good.” Was his only response as he shifted underneath you, careful to not let you fall.

You peeked up at his face, at his golden eyes observing the main road outside the shitty apartment building almost falling apart you two resided in.

A while back, before you really got to know him, you thought he had a thing for you, thought that was the reason he let you stay in his apartment and went to your ex’s house to pick up the few belongings you had.

You tried to kiss him once, at about 6 months living together mark, high out of your fucking mind, thinking that was what he wanted, thinking that were his expectations, but he pushed you away, eyes wide and panicked as he stumbled away from you.

‘What the fuck, y/n? You’re a kid! You’re like my kid! Are you insane?!’

Now you knew better.

Now you knew he was just lonely, and saw something needing to be fixed in you, something needing to be saved.

You couldn’t help but think how stupid he was for trying to help you when he couldn’t even help his own downwards spiral.

He was just lonely, and you were a touch too cruel, a touch too angry at everyone, but he didn’t seem to mind.

He took everything you threw at him with a soft smile.

He was so pathetic.

But you were lonely too.

🔖Taglist (open):

@1818cigarettes @babu-haitani @dilf-city @wakasa-wifey @lagrimasdeglitter @kisekihany @missarabellla @bajifairyy @cryszus @r-xochitl @emilywaters @dinve @levistiddies @bxnten @spookykoko @graythecoffeebean @yukihime-mikeys-girl @mukounisuru-gashadokuro @sunahyejin @crybabylisa @yamaguccitadashi @minoozi @gigibobigi @trashmemebitch @frogtits1 @sup-zfam @whydohumansss @xashiui @bontens-whore @nqctre @bontenacious @lumi-does-some-stuff @hana-patata @hxked @sh4nn @sisnot @r3pr0duce @adeptiixiao @siriuspisces @bubs-world @des-tru6tion @makimakimi @namisblkgf @aces-high @syddisheep @haikyuu-simps-assemble

a/n: you know what. i’m tired of calling you guys english pet names 😤 i need something with more punch 🤧 introducing a bit of spice with ✨ slavic pet names ✨ get ready to be called ‘my little fish’, ‘my soul’, ‘gold’, ‘sunlight’ and ‘mouse’

#tokyorev #tokyo revengers #hanma x reader #hanma x y/n #baji x reader #chifuyu x reader #kazutora x reader #pet shop trio #bajifuyutora #hanma shuji #kazutora hanemiya #baji keisuke #chifuyu matsuno

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