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peachesyeo · 18 hours

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Player 1117 ── ATEEZ OT8 0001 ─ into the game

THIS SERIES IS MATURE! MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED!

⊹ 2k words ⊹ gamecharacters!ateez x fem!reader (ft. txt) ᭡ fantasy au, dark romance au, obsessive/yandere elements.

✧ a/n: i know you guys don't read my author's note so have fun. /: thank you @sousydive for beta reading.

✦ network: @newworldnet

⊂ warnings: -

:̗̀➛ 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭? :̗̀➛ 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞? :̗̀➛ 𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭? (for all works)

This cannot be true.

You stared at the young girl in the mirror before you. She seemed no more than twelve years old, her raven hair cascades in soft waves around her shoulders, framing her face like a midnight veil. Her eyes are pools of dark brown, with mesmerizing purple swirls dancing within her pupils.

Her skin is fair and smooth, like porcelain, with a delicate rosy hue on her cheeks that speaks of youth and vitality. Her features were exactly of the Y/n in Utopia - a small button nose, full rosy lips and high cheekbones. She wears a silky sleeping gown, one that looks exactly the same as the one you are wearing right now.

You raised your hand to touch your face, and so did her.

You have read many novels about transmigrating - but novels are fiction. And this is real.

“I’m… in the game?” You whispered, your shaking fingers reaching to touch the mirror. But the cool touch on the tips of your fingers told you that this is not a dream, that everything is real. You looked around, the room you were in is spacious, with high ceilings adorned with intricately carved moldings and delicate crystal chandeliers. Sunlight streams through tall windows draped in dark amethyst curtains, glowing down on you.

The walls, floors and pillars were made of the finest marble, covered with sumptuous silk tapestries of flowers. You walked towards the nearest wall, running your fingers along the fine threads that form the images that seem to come alive in the flickering light of the candles and fireplace.

In the center of the chamber sits a four-poster bed, its canopy draped in sheer silk curtains. The bed is covered in luxurious lavender silk sheets, embroidered with the finest silver thread. You walked over to them, taking a seat. They were soft and light, like you were sitting on a cotton cloud. You stared outside of the window, trying to digest the fact that you are in the game.

But who are you?

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. You watched as a maid entered, bowing to you. “Greetings to the Star of Eternity. The Moon and Eclipse have requested your audience.”

You nearly let out a squeak; the maid had answered your question. As two young boys walked in, you were even more certain of it.

You are now Choi Y/n, Star of Eternity, Princess of the Eternity Kingdom.

"Y/n!" The shorter one ran towards you, lifting you up in his arms as though you weighed nothing. "How is our little Star feeling today?"

"Beomgyu! Y/n's twelve, stop carrying her like that!" The taller one chided, as Beomgyu rolled his eyes, sticking his tongue out at his older brother in response. You wrapped your arms around his neck for support, staring up at your third brother's face.

Choi Beomgyu, the Eclipse of Eternity. He is the third Prince, known for his gift of creating illusions. Utopia did not have much of Y/n's backstory, but you knew that Beomgyu was the only person spared under Wooyoung's sword, and took over Eternity as the new King.

The Beomgyu holding you has long black hair that falls into his shoulders. He pressed a kiss onto your temple, rubbing his cheek against yours like a cat. "My little Star, so precious." He cooed, ignoring the exasperated sighs of your other brother across the room. "What would I do without you?"

You looked over to your other brother for help. He put his hand on his forehead tiredly. "Let Y/n down, Gyu. Please."

"You're all work and no fun, Soobin hyung." Beomgyu pouted unhappily, placing you gently back on the bed. "Is our little Star excited to meet her new friend?"

Choi Soobin, Moon of Eternity, the second Prince born with the gift of manipulating water. He would later become the War General of Eternity, dying to San in a battle.

Soobin shared the same raven hair as the both of you, his fringe falling in front of his eyes. He seemed to have had enough of Beomgyu, sighing loudly and flexing his right arm before casually delivering a loud smack on the back of Beomgyu's head. Ignoring Beomgyu's over-dramatic whines, Soobin approached you, kneeling on one knee to be at the same eye level as you. Taking your hand into his, Soobin had a simple dimpled smile on his face.

"Y/n-ah, remember when Mother mentioned that we have guests over? They are very important people, so remember to behave yourself, okay?"

You tilted your head in confusion. "How important are they, Brother?"

Beomgyu stopped whining and exchanged a look with Soobin. The other lifted his thumb and index, slowly pulling them apart. "It’s this important, Y/n-ah."

"The point is," Beomgyu interjected, earning a disapproving look from Soobin. "They will be arriving before dinner. Yeonjun hyung had already gone to welcome them along with Mother, so we have an afternoon for you to get ready, Y/n." He grinned, one that made you nervous for no reason. "Our little Star must be pretty too."

You glanced at Soobin. The older man nodded, wearing a satisfied expression on his face as though Beomgyu finally made sense. "I got you many dresses to try on, Y/n-ah. Shall we go?" He smiled, offering his hand to you.

You were bathed by the maids before they dressed you into a lavender dress with puffed sleeves and the hem fell gracefully to your knees. Beomgyu picked a purple silk ribbon, tying it to your hair while Soobin knelt on one knee, fitting a pair of white shoes with amethyst crystals onto your feet. When you were done, Beomgyu gushed in delight, showering you with compliments after compliments.

"Our Gem, our little Star," Beomgyu cooed as your face heated up at the praises. "Looking so pretty... I mean, you are always pretty, my Star, but right now, with my magnificent sense of fashion-"

"Our Star!" A loud voice boomed, sending everyone in the room jumping. A tall, blonde hair male barged in, his eyes lighting up the moment it landed on you. You hear Beomgyu mutter a curse under his breath while Soobin puts his hand on his chest. "Yeonjun hyung, at least announce that you're here!"

Yeonjun ignored him, making a beeline towards you and dismissing the maids in the process. "Our Star, so bright and... Why is she so purple?" His face scrunched up at the sight of the little purple crystals adorning your hair, which Beomgyu had 'generously' clipped onto your hair. "Take it off, take it off. The ribbon is purple enough; Y/n doesn't have to be a grape for the Kims to see."

Choi Yeonjun, Sun of Eternity, heir to the throne. He is the oldest out of the four of you, with an ability to soothe feelings. Your face fell slightly, remembering how Yeonjun had died when you played Utopia as the heroine. He was stabbed by...

Who was it?

"You don't know fashion at all, hyung." Beomgyu grumbled, cutting you off your thoughts. Soobin and Beomgyu had been quarreling over the hairclips, and you did not want to pick a side. Yeonjun removed all the crystals in your hair, leaving only the ribbon. "There, our Star shines bright enough like this."

"Thank you, Brothers." You smiled sweetly and the three cooed in response. Beomgyu had his hand dramatically held over his heart, Soobin covered his blushing face with his gloved hands and Yeonjun proudly grinning. "Wait until Mother and Father see you, little Star. Now, shall we run along?"

You took Yeonjun’s hand and allowed him to guide you to the banquet hall with Beomgyu and Soobin trailing behind you two like bodyguards. You could hear the activity in the hall from outside, and you gripped Yeonjun’s hand nervously.

"Announcing the arrival of the Sun, Moon, Eclipse, and Star of Eternity!" The voices of the guards boomed. Yeonjun squeezed your hand as the doors opened, revealing a quiet banquet hall. You could feel many eyes staring at you, but you remained composed, walking alongside Yeonjun to the King and Queen of Eternity. The nobles you walked past bowed respectfully, and when you finally reached the throne, Yeonjun let go of your hand.

"Greetings to Your Majesties," Yeonjun said, bowing to both the King and Queen of Eternity. You curtseyed, while Beomgyu and Soobin bowed behind you. “May peace be ever in your grace.” The King, your Father, nodded. “You may rise.” The King of Eternity is never shown in Utopia, but you knew that like Soobin, he died under San’s sword. You scanned the man on the throne. He seemed to be in his forties, with the same platinum blond hair as Yeonjun and a kind-looking face.

You didn’t miss the subtle wink the raven-haired woman beside him gave you. Sending a sweet smile towards your Mother, the Queen of Eternity, you turned your attention to the two other presence in the banquet hall.

Yeonjun turned towards them. “Greetings to the Queen of Mist, and Prince Hongjoong. May peace be ever in your grace.”

You froze slightly at the name, but quickly recovered when Yeonjun gently tickled your side, telling you to bow. When you straightened back up again, your eyes met a pair of golden slits. Kim Hongjoong gave you a soft smile, but you quickly looked away, your heart pounding.

Kim Hongjoong, the Prince of Mist. The one who the original Y/n had fallen in love with, and lost both her life and her kingdom to. When you played as Jiwon, Hongjoong seemed to be a normal, sweet Prince who was loyal and polite to her even if she was a commoner. However, when you played as Y/n, he was evil, nasty and horrifying.

The Queen of Mist inclined her head slightly. “Greetings to the Sun, Moon, Eclipse and Star of Eternity. May peace be ever in your grace.” She turned to look at Hongjoong, who too bowed, echoing the greetings. When he was done, you grabbed onto Yeonjun’s sleeve, hiding your face in it.

“Seems like the Star is a little shy, Mira.” Mira is your mother’s maiden name. Yeonjun patted your hair consolingly as your mother laughed. “Oh, Ayang. She'll recognize you soon, you even carried her as a baby.”

The Queen of Mist and your mother seemed to know each other, seeing that they were addressing each other by a first-name basis. You peeked out from behind Yeonjun, avoiding Hongjoong’s gaze as you looked towards the Queen of Mist. She chuckled at your cute reaction, beckoning you. “Come here, little Star, let Auntie have a good look at you.”

“It’s not fair!” Beomgyu burst out dramatically. “You always favored Y/n, Auntie Ayang!”

You blinked, confused at the turns of events. What is happening? Didn’t Beomgyu and Soobin say that they are important guests? And why is your Mother now walking towards the Queen of Mist, holding her hand as she speaks?

“Here.” Yeonjun pushed you out from his side gently. “Go say hi.” You carefully took a few steps forwards, still refusing to look at Hongjoong as you grip your dress tightly. “Y-your Majesty…”

“It’s Auntie Ayang for you, my little Y/n.” The woman bent down slightly while your Mother stood next to her, smiling. “I am your Mother’s best friend, little Star. This is a family event, we can be casual with each other.”

Your heart thumped loudly at this piece of information. So Y/n and Hongjoong had already known each other before Y/n went to the Kingdom of Mist for… For what?

Why.. Why can’t you remember?

“Now, shall the dinner start?” Your Father’s voice pulled you out of reality. You blinked rapidly, and quickly followed Yeonjun as everyone settled down on one table. Unfortunately for you, Hongjoong took the seat next to you.

“Hello, Y/n. I’m Hongjoong.” Hongjoong introduced himself in a small, shy voice, his golden, snake-like eyes upon you. “I hope we’ll be good friends with each other.”

You stared at him, your brows furrowing unconsciously. Then you blurted out, “I don’t want to.”

“Don’t want to do what, Y/n?” Yeonjun didn’t catch the whole conversation and had fetched a napkin for you. You frowned at Hongjoong, your lips forming into an adorable pout.

“I don’t want to be friends with Kim Hongjoong.”

previous // next

➳ series taglist: @tenebrisirae @mayonnaise-on-toast @lavishloving @hrts4hanniehae @sousydive @ddaeing @huachengsbestie01 @icouldntcareless22 @anxiousskylar @devilzliaison @saintriots

➳ pernament taglist (ateez): @watermelon2319 @levishun

➳ pernament taglist: @sousydive @yeodeulz @oddracha @jaerisdiction @yukichan67 @evidive @onysmamas

#☁️by k #☁️k’s player 1117 series #newworldnet #ateez x reader #ateez #ateez ot8 #ateez fanfic

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aurosoulart · 3 months

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alright. that's it. technology has gone too far

#figmin xr #ar #augmented reality #vr #virtual reality #video #alternate caption: My Blue Toilet #i just got this build and needed somewhere dark to test it #brain is reeling thinking of what to do with this #entirely virtual shadow puppet shows #a ceiling covered in gently glowing stars #bioluminescence #shadowboxes lit from within #glowing mushrooms #magical runes #holy shit #holy shiiiitt #this might be the thing to get me out of my art block #anyways uh. enjoy toilet video LMAO

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pokedawriter · 2 months

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Nymph!Reader x Sumeru!Men

Gn!reader, you're a nymph

How would the sumeru men react to finding you and your grotto

I still have no idea what I'm doing

I've never written for Cyno, Alhaitem or Scara so forgive me if something is out of character

Cyno

He's patrolling the desert. There have been lots of cave-ins in the area recently and he wants to figure out if there is a specific cause that he can solve or if he should just warn people about the area

As he walks, he feels the sand beneath his feet begin to fall and he tries to jump away but it's too sudden and he falls

He braces for impact but lands into a net of vines that gently lower him to the ground

Your standing next to him, arm extended with the sunlight on your back, looking gorgeous and radiant, then you speak

"I can't be-leaf someone fell into here. Water you doing here?"

Archons, he might have fallen in love with you at that moment

He asks you about the recent cave in and you tell him it the Wenut mating season, and they're all trying to make burrows for their young. An inexperienced male has been digging here but didn't dig deep enough, which is why there are so many cave-ins. You tell him to just wait a month or two for the season to end

The hole is fairly deep and so you build him a ladder out of vines and he promises to return

After reporting what happened with the cave-ins, he returns and finds you've been repairing your grotto in the mean time, removing the dirt and stones that fell

You're very excited to see him and take him deeper into your grotto, further underground

It's beautiful, with purple, white and yellow flowers illuminating the area. Glowing stones are scattered in the ceiling like stars

He makes a regular habit to visit you and introduces you to Tighnari pretty soon (but he doesn't visit much due to his incompatibility with the heat). You all like to have Genius Innovation TCG together (Cyno teaches you and gives you cards)

He finds himself falling asleep in your grotto, surrounded by the glowing flowers and flowing water

He has to stop visiting for a few months due to work, but tries to wrap it up as fast can to see you

When be returns, he finds your grotto has been severely damaged, much of the flora dying. He searches high and low for you, going to the deepest part of the grotto where rocks fall away and reveal a very weakened you

You tell him people found out about your grotto and stole as many of your rare plants as they could, weakening you greatly and you had to hide yourself and your remaining plants away

He's furious and immediately takes action

He works with Tighnari and Lesser Lord Kusanali to make you and your grotto a protected space

And though he can't punish the researchers for over-foraging (since you and your grotto weren't legally protected), he does let other researchers know of their actions, resulting in those researchers being shunned

He helps you and your grotto return to full health and always tries to visit once a week to 'keep away any trouble makers" (but he just wants to visit you)

You both often fall asleep together in the deepest part of the grotto, happy in each other's presence

Alhaithem

He was looking through the old archives. The scrolls and books here were no longer scientifically accurate, but were kept for record purposes

He's found an old book about mythical creatures of Sumeru: Aranara, Nymphs, Djinn, Rocs, and more. He decided to rent it out and give it a read

Reading it at his house wasn't an option as it would be too loud (Kaveh, whom he didnt feel like dealing with today), the Academia students and researchers were always bothering him if he was around (especially after the 'hero' title), so he decided to leave the city for a bit.

As he walked, he found a small cave and decided to read there

Inside was larger than he expected, with a small moss-covered shrine and little yellow flowers. He sat on one of the rocks to read

It was wonderfully calm and quiet. The right temperature, the trickle of water from a nearby stream, the rustle of the leaves... it was all perfect

So, he came back here again and again, reading his books late into the evenings

He was in the middle of his mythical creatures book, on Nymphs, when he felt a presence and immediately looked for it

You sat on the shrine, staring at him, head tilted in wonder

He looked between his book and its description of Nymphs and you... and it seems he found a mythical creature. Regardless, he continued to read and you continued to watch him

Eventually, he turned to you and asked why you were just staring at him, to which you shrugged and said "If a man were to walk in your yard everyday and read, doing nothing else at all, wouldn't you grow curious?"

He was mostly surprised by the fact you could respond. The book said that Nymph's were shy creatures who couldn't talk

But to you, this man had been a regular visitor to your grotto for months now. His scent was just part of your grotto, like the duskbirds and rishboland tigers. He wasn't a stranger at all

Alhaithem decided to ask you a few questions about Nymphs which you agreeably answered, even showing in the deeper parts of the grotto that he hadn't noticed were there

You both fell into a comfortable routine of him visiting you on his days off to read in comfortable silence while you worked on your grotto

Despite being able to talk in every language he could, he realized you couldn't read at all

He helped you learn how to read and you helped him relax and have the perfect reading spot

You became reading buddies, and even though you would ask him with question on words, it never bothered or annoyed him

He subtly made your grotto a legally protected area so if anyone messed with it, they would have to pay

You were his safe space, and in return, he would protect you too

Scara/Wanderer

Nahida asked him to go outside and touch grass more

Just kidding, she asked him to find a rare flower, only ever found underground in rare Nymph Gardens

She gave him a rough idea where he might be able to find it and off he went, grumbling the whole way

Finding the entrance to the cave wasn't hard. All he had to do then was follow the smell of fresh flowers. It was so simple for him (and most certainly didn't take him several days)

When he finally found your grotto, he couldn't find the flower Nahida had described for him and grumbled under his breath about it

This is where you come in: appearing next to his shoulder asking about what flower he was exactly talking about

You stare at him innocently even as he hold a swirl ball of anemo energy

You ask again and he asks who you are, cautious

"I'm the nymph of this grotto"

That can't be possible, Nymphs aren't real, surely you're pulling his leg

But you have flowers growing on you, the plants lean towards where you step and life seems to exude from you

He'll dispell his anemo attack and tell you about the flower. You nod and scoop it up a bit of dirt and grow the flower on it

He's wondering if there's a cost to it. You tell him it'll hurt you when he leaves with it. He asks what he owes you and you shrug and walk away to play with the springyness of a new fern

He brings the flower to Nahida then rushes back. Not because he's worried! He's just curious about the affects of removing the flower from your grotto (Nahida gives him a knowing smile as he leaves)

When he arrives, you're laying on the ground, looking unwell. He puts his hand to your forehead, and you're burning up

Why would you give the flower to him if it would hurt you so much?

"Because you needed it," you say with a smile

He'll take care of you for the next few days, your waking hours being filled with scolding and mild insults about how stupid it was to give all thay power to a stranger. What if they wanted to take advantage of you?

You laugh and smile. When he's not paying attention, you'll make little figurines out of flower of him

Then he'll notice and scold you for not resting properly, idiot (he does think it's very cute though)

He'll protest even when you insist you are perfectly healthy again

You'll take him to the deepest part of the grotto where you made a picture of the two of you in glowing flowers. He says it looks stupid, but you notice his little blush and giggle

He has to leave for a few days and during that time, treasure hoarders find your grotto

They have no respect for your plants, so you hide, slowly growing weaker and weaker as they pick and burn your plants

Needless to say, when Scara returns and sees you hanging on by a thread, he's pissed

He wipes them out and tends to you once again. It takes months this time until you are healthy, but he's by your side every step of the way

"Clearly, you can't take care of yourself, so I'll have to watch out for you! Hey! Don't giggle! What's so funny, idiot?"

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malleleothreesome · 5 months

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Dancing with Malleus

✨ summary: Malleus invites you to the Briar Valley ball ༶༶༶ ✨ warnings: gender neutral reader, immortal Malleus, romance, SFW, I ain't gonna spoil this one for ya ༶༶༶ ✨ word count: 2.9k words ༶༶༶ ✨ song: Once Upon A Dream - Lana Del Rey "You'll love me at once... the way you did once upon a dream"

The castle's ballroom is exquisite and grand, with high arched windows that open out into a massive and impressive courtyard. Inundated with golden light, the whole room is sparking in ethereal shimmer and the aroma of crisp floral accents fill the room. From the high vaulted ceilings, chandeliers the size of trees glitter with a plethora of colorful gems, catching the light of magical, flickering flames like stardust. Couples twirl and weave around each other in fluid steps, like a choreographed waltz of swaying and swirling movements. An orchestra of beautiful instruments blend together in a soaring melody as the dancing continues in harmonious orchestration. A faint mist seems to cover the floor, glittering opalescent in the fading daylight, which gives the scene the surreal quality of a dream or fairytale. The ball is attended only by the most exotic mystical creatures and beings of magic, clad in jewels and other luxury wares. Fae of varying shapes, colors, and sizes, waltz together and converse in tight circles, but you couldn't possibly hope to learn their language or names, nor are you important enough to be greeted. You don't belong here amongst the unparalleled beauty of the resplendent folk who grace these halls—celestially carved beings whose mere existence was meant to mesmerize you and your fellow humans, yet Malleus had insisted that you become his plus-one. Despite your fears that you might embarrass yourself due to your utter inexperience at anything remotely resembling courtly dancing, you're inexplicably enamored by his stubborn determination to allow no argument or negotiation on the matter. So now, you find yourself clad in flowing silk that glows like it was created by stars themselves and bejeweled with all manners of beautiful and precious accouterments. With such extravagant adornments and attire, no one would be able to tell you are not of royal blood. Before you become completely subsumed in the buzzing magnificence of the ball, the finest details of your elegant surroundings become blurry.

Suddenly, there is only him.

Your eyes cannot help but alight upon his noble beauty, and for a moment, the entire crowd parts. The Prince of the Valley of Thorns floats through the room, the air around him parting. As his silky hair streams behind him like water, his beauty causes the room to gasp audibly, yet he hardly notices. Only focused on his true intentions, Malleus seems to drift effortlessly through his own subjects, his sharp features devoid of their normal grim severity, eyes sparkling with tender warmth as he fixates solely on you. Every step he takes exudes power and confidence, yet remains graceful and smooth, as he saunters his way to where you stand and outstretches his gloved hand. In an instant, a murmur arises among the guests—every single one of them captivated by the effortless charm and debonair allure the future King possesses. Seeing your bashfulness, he delicately pulls your smaller hand into his before brushing your knuckles with a sweet kiss, a broad, fangy smile illuminating his entire visage.

"Do not be nervous," he soothes you. His slender fingertips gingerly grip yours, raising your entangled palms to rest shoulder-height, and placing his other hand on your lower back, right at the junction of your waist—so carefully, it makes your heart beat a little faster. Despite his inhuman strength, Malleus holds onto you gently, not wanting to bruise you from his crushing grasp. And then, the room around you suddenly fades away—the hundreds of pairs of eyes on you fade to black, the delicate melodies fade to white, the sheer magnitude of magic and splendor falls away and you see only the verdant of his irises, glittering emeralds as bright and eternal as the crystals sparkling around you. The corners of his eyes crinkle just a bit, betraying an emotion he's rarely so candid with outside the sanctum of your relationship. His next words, a dreamy whisper of reassurance, cause butterflies to flutter through your stomach and the hot flush of your cheeks to flood over you.

"Just let me lead and I will bring you to paradise."

Those are his only words as the slow waltz of the orchestra starts, beginning the dance that will set you two into a careful and synchronous flow with each other. Your feet move effortlessly with him, never straying even as he picks up the pace, the momentum between the two of you increasing. You feel him cradle the curve of your body close to him, holding you in the nook of his arm as he deftly twirls you through the night's revels. Malleus expertly keeps pace with the orchestra, all while also maintaining the beat of his heart, which matches the rhythm of his footsteps. As he glides with a masterful ease around the room, every movement controlled and precise, the image you two paint in motion together is nothing short of flawless. There isn't a hitch or misstep in your movement, the two of you completely in sync with the beat, every turn and twist of the music matching each step of your waltz, as he leads you in complete command. His eyes never leave yours, only looking away to catch the flash of one of his deft maneuvers of your body. Time slows and you find yourself completely lost in the wonder as you gaze lovingly into the brilliant, viridescent pools of his irises—his gaze penetrates and drowns you in a wash of endearment, drinking in your visage with unrestrained emotion. It's intoxicating and dizzying, yet you're powerless to break away. As far as you're concerned, the other couples have completely disappeared, lost to the blur of the distance, and it is as though you're dancing to music that exists in a realm outside of the material world. Everything else pales in comparison to this ethereal fairytale—Malleus looks handsome beyond reason in his opulent uniform. The cut of the dark fabric seems to enhance the elegant definition of his strong shoulders and the perfect symmetry of his regal face, yet the lush tailoring highlights his muscular physique and the toned strength that hides under the gorgeous facade. His very essence, the ambiance he exudes, the captivating aura—it all acts as an enchantment of pure spellbound desire, beckoning for you to cast yourself into its endless depth, surrendering yourself entirely to him.

Every step, every sway, every twirl of your dance together is more surreal than the last. This fairy tale is unfolding right before your eyes and all you can do is feel your soul resonate with him. It's in the way your arms circle his body; it's in the way your breathing begins to match pace with his; it's in the way he sets your head spinning and fills your heart with an aching need to be closer. In a secluded corner of the dance floor, away from all the curious eyes, the waltz continues—a beautiful duet of your hearts connecting deeper with every step and spin, as if the magic is attempting to wrench your souls together, desperate to mingle them until they're indistinguishable. He cradles you in his embrace, holding your body against his. From the elegant swoop of his scale-covered forehead, to the sharp, sexy slope of his jawline, his handsome profile is aglow with radiant adoration as he stares down at you with half-lidded, smitten eyes, his cheekbones shadowed perfectly under the romantic light of the ballroom, giving him an ineffable mystique. You stare back at him, searching deep into the blackness of his slitted pupils until your heart aches as your mind rushes with so many unspeakable emotions that threaten to make tears well in the corner of your eyes. In that moment, your love for him burns brighter than the sun and is more potent than anything you have ever known. At last, he closes his eyes in contentment and sweeps you away, a dreamlike smile upon his lips as he spins you across the smooth ballroom floors, grasping onto you as though you are his only lifeline in the universe. Malleus moves as though in a dream, never faltering as he leads your soul into a euphoria you never thought possible, a state where words hold little meaning but the act of dancing could express everything. As he moves the two of you elegantly across the expansive floor, the ephemerality of your mortal existence burns starkly clear in your mind, while his ancient heart thrums within his chest—countless years of melancholy and loneliness he endured seem to give weight to every ponderous beat of his heart, resonating through his chest, enveloping you and shrouding you in the desperate urgency of his adoration for you. Even without uttering any confessions, his heart speaks them to you fluently—you and him are tied so intimately together, an unbreakable knot that holds the threads of your destinies and fate together in a weave too precious and fine to be cut or broken. His fingertips ghost along your neck, the gentle sensation setting your soul on fire, sending electric currents down to the very tips of your fingers and toes, as a powerful shudder rips through your body.

"Wherever I am, you belong by my side," Malleus tells you. His tone is soft, but filled with enough reverence to make your breath catch. He peers at you with uncharacteristic vulnerability, the mere existence of it is practically intoxicating, and he watches your reactions to him with wide and captivating eyes that give off the intensity of a solar eclipse.

"It was fated by the heavens. Our paths were always intertwined," his voice is just a tad unsteady, yet it resonates with his entire being.

For a moment, all the whispers that echo from the watching crowd silence—the buzz, the snippets of gossip about your relationship with the notorious prince—is as quiet and as inconsequential as a background tune to your dance. All those things were meaningless—their cruel whispers and jealous words, their apprehension and disapproval meant absolutely nothing. That momentary stillness grants you both a moment of solace; the very few seconds your lives needed for him to offer himself to you. A confession so pure it lifts the hair on the back of your neck: "I fell in love the moment I laid eyes on you. No one could possibly make my heart beat so wildly or ignite such fierce emotions as you do."

His words are just like the tempo of the violins that fill the chamber. Infinite. Mesmerizing. Their echoing sound lengthens into infinity, in their beautiful patterns, the bow caresses the strings and produces such an achingly sublime melody. They pierce through all the tension in the air and carry a stirring urgency along with them as they flow seamlessly with your bodies in sync. Every note perfectly transitions into the next, and the song swells to a climatic, fervid harmony that cannot be resisted. You want him with all the burning hunger and depth of a cosmic soul—for every molecule that composes you calls out to him and wants to interweave his being with your own, so that neither one can ever exist without the other. His form is graceful as you two blend into each other and the song in a divine synergy. Time stretches as the rapturous intensity of his longing is displayed on his face. As you look into his eyes, the entire expanse of his vast, magnificent soul is bared to you. No mortal has ever had the privilege to see him so honestly and fully exposed, yet Malleus gives you his everything—he's always been his whole self in your embrace. He holds you close, cradling your frame to him protectively, and the faint tremble of his grip reveals the depths of his emotional fragility as the passion of his love overwhelms him and renders him helplessly bare before you, like a servant devoted to the altar of an awe-inspiring, glorious God.

Suddenly, all those intense sensations coalesce into the single most beautiful sentiment of all, as the sum of these wonderful emotions create a glorious aria that rouses all the seraphic adoration and longing, and an emotional overdrive within him. With the sum of his desires and emotions pouring out of him in waves, Malleus opens his lips to pour forth his most secret and profound wish and what comes out next, the words barely a hushed murmur above the swelling musical climax, is an admission of raw love. "I wish to spend my eternal lifetime with you by my side. I long to spend it loving only you and I want us to grow together through the centuries as partners." His words, sincere, sentimental, and laced with the faintest traces of tears, are raw in their unapologetic declaration, and they contain within them a depth of devotion you didn't think possible for a soul to ever harbor.

His lip quivers, his eyes begin to shine, and he squeezes them shut just as the first tears begin to flow, spilling over the waterline of his closed eyelids and dripping down his high cheekbones. Tapered fingers firmly intertwine yours and he desperately gazes at Lilia, whose red eyes sparkle in a proud mist as he looks on, giving Malleus an encouraging nod. Finally, the dam is broken—the smile that cracks at the corners of Malleus' mouth blooms, causing his already dazzling complexion to gleam and become impossibly more breathtaking as a sweet, ecstatic sob bubbles out of his lungs. Tears of joy roll down his cheeks as a wide grin takes up half his face, the verdant color of his irises shimmering brilliantly through a crystalline veil of sparkling tears. Thanks to the confidence and encouragement Lilia—his Father—has instilled in him, he finally feels ready to face his destiny, and take you alongside him as an equal. He clears his throat.

"I understand you are a human of little power, a short-lived creature whose days will fleet and wane like that of a candle before a blizzard," his voice is somewhat hesitant, faltering a tad as his anxieties manifest, his vocal chords shivering as he stumbles over his own emotion. His free hand finds its way to clutch the front of his attire, as though the mere mention of you near death makes his heart seize in his chest. His lips form a pout, brow creasing deeply as his breath shakes while you clutch his cheek, a thumb smoothing over his cheekbone, collecting his tears. Then, Malleus steels his features as he delivers his ultimatum. When his beautiful, soulful gaze finds you, there's an immovable determination and steadfastness that betray the fact that he's already made the choice, and your presence at his side is inevitable. "Therefore, in order to make our union possible and feasible, I spent countless hours researching every ancient text and scroll to seek a loophole, to bend the fates and twist their strings around my fingers." His lips curl to the side and his eyebrows raise ever so subtly, an adorable hint of pride shining in the smile he wears. "At last, my labor produced a solution. It is possible through an ancient rite to bind my soul to a chosen mortal partner."

Your heart speeds as a burst of joy courses through your veins like fire. The crescendo of the orchestra and his musical words are building to a harmonious convergence, a swelling refrain of the melodies both your lives have played, culminating in a resplendent final verse, a foreordained tune of two halves at last being joined. It's almost too much for you to take; the very walls of this beautiful, mystical room threaten to melt away and fade from your awareness, and all you can comprehend is his stunning, baritone voice. "If you accept my blessing, your lifespan will be linked to mine for as long as I walk the realm of the living.” Malleus tells you, a tad smug at the work he has done on your behalf. “All I ask in return for giving you eternal beauty, granting you my protection, and offering you my whole life is that we come to be as one. Two souls permanently linked and intertwined for the eternity of our existence together. You will forever share my immortality and accompany me as we walk among the stars until they eventually go out. And even in the wake of that devastating eventuality, I promise to care for you, tend to you, and love you for however many eras remain. Please be my betrothed, my beloved child of man, for I cannot bear to let you go and there is no force that can tear me away from you."

He squeezes your hand before dropping to one knee. In the center of the expansive room, surrounded by hundreds of guests, his emerald orbs peer up at you through heavy lashes as his lips begin to part, finally ready to ask the one question that may finally put an end to the solitude he has endured since he first came into existence. He pulls a ring box from the interior of his tailcoat, his shaky hands slowly flipping open the box to reveal a platinum band in the shape of a dragon encasing a deep viridian gem, forged from the magical energies of his Draconia ancestors. The ring was last worn by his Mother before her untimely demise, and his Grandmother was insistent that Malleus should one day gift his betrothed this one piece of family history. As the ballroom goes completely silent and the eyes of his subjects rest on the two of you with rapt, nervous attention, Malleus draws in a wavering inhale to steady his quivering voice as he fights the fear of rejection, before allowing the soft and tender question to slip past the careful line of his lips, "Will you marry me?"

Do y'all want part 2? Am I cruel for leaving it off there? In "x Reader" fics, I like to limit putting words in the reader's mouth or feelings in reader's head so that I can let you decide for yourselves how you wish to experience my stories. I am happy to pick back up where I left off if there is demand for it. Otherwise, I hope you continue weaving this tale in your own daydreams and fantasies. Thank you for reading and for your support of my writing! 💚 Erica Malleleothreesome P.S. I'm SORRY my paragraphs are so long I truly DO NOT UNDERSTAND when to break paragraphs, I hope it doesn't ruin your experience!

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst malleus draconia #twst malleus #twisted wonderland malleus x reader #malleus draconia #twisted wonderland malleus #malleus x reader #malleyuu #twst imagines #my writing

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aphroditelovesu · 6 months

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Kinktober Day Twenty-Six — Wedding Night

❝ ☀️ — lady l: day twenty-six of kinktober! Yes, I know I'm late with the last ones and I apologize! But here it is now and I hope you like it!

❝ ☀️pairing: soft yandere!apollo x female!reader.

❝warnings: smut, NSFW, vaginal sex, oral sex (female receiving), fingering.

❝☀️word count: 1,340.

❝tag: @compulsiivedreamer

On the wedding night of the wedding of the god Apollo and (Y/N), Olympus shone with a special luminosity. Zeus, the King of the gods, prepared a heavenly room for the couple. The walls were adorned with golden frescoes depicting the heroic deeds of Apollo.

A white silk canopy fluttered over the bed, which was covered in crimson rose petals. The gentle melody of Apollo's lyre echoed in the room as he expertly played it, creating a magical soundtrack for the night.

The ceiling, decorated with twinkling stars, gave the feeling that they were under the sky itself. A crystal chandelier hung in the center, casting dancing reflections of light throughout the room.

You were nervous about your first time with your new husband. Not just because you were inexperienced but because he was a god. So nervous wasn't the right word, perhaps, but rather scared.

And you felt your hands shaking a little as Apollo guided you to the large bed, his gaze softening when he saw how nervous you were.

"I won't hurt you." He said, stroking your face gently as you sat down. You smiled at him and nodded.

"I know."

Apollo kissed your forehead, "Then there's no need to be so nervous. I'll take care of you and make you feel good."

Apollo kissed your lips carefully, a gentle and soft kiss that quickly turned passionate. The god's arms wrapped around your waist and brought you closer to him, his tongue touching yours in a possessive and dominant way. You moaned into the kiss when you felt him take one of your hands to the clasp of your wedding dress.

You took a deep breath as you pulled away, your lips swollen and Apollo's face glowed with desire. Apollo skillfully removed your dress and kissed your neck, sucking the sensitive, soft skin gently. You gasped and took a deep breath, your hands gripping his arms.

Apollo purred and caressed your thigh, his hands squeezing the soft, warm flesh, eliciting sighs from you. The god kissed the hollow of her breasts, his teeth lightly marking the sensitive skin.

"Ah…" You sighed and leaned back against his chest, and he smiled and kissed his earlobe. You closed your eyes when you felt his hand on your thigh come up and rub your pussy covered in the thin panties you were wearing.

"I didn't know you liked that kind of clothes, my sunshine." He purred in your ear and his index finger slid down your slit, rubbing with a little force, making you moan softly.

"Only for my husband." You smiled mischievously and Apollo purred in approval, sucking on your neck and squeezing you tightly. You gripped the muscles in his arm, holding yourself steady as your wetness was touched by the god's slender fingers.

Apolo pulled your panties to the side and inserted a finger into your tight heat, making you bite your lip to hold back a moan.

"No." He said disapprovingly, "I want to hear your sounds."

You sighed as he shook his finger and rubbed it over your clit. You moaned softly, feeling your pussy tighten around his finger.

"You swallow my fingers so well… I imagine what it must be like with my cock." Apollo licked his lips in anticipation and kissed your lips tenderly in a perfunctory kiss. You gasped in pain as he introduced a second finger, spreading you wider.

"It will pass… The pain will pass, my love." He whispered and kissed your cheek, moving his fingers into your heat slowly. It still hurt a little, but as you relaxed under his touch, you began to feel a little pleasure.

Apollo took one hand to your bare breast and squeezed it, squeezing your breasts affectionately. You sighed as he came closer and licked the your nipple, his tongue bringing you sensations you never thought you could feel. You tried not to think about what his tongue would feel like licking you further down.

The god removed his fingers from inside you and you whimpered in frustration. Apollo smiled and licked his fingers, tasting you. He laid you down on the bed and removed your panties completely, sliding them down your legs. Apollo spread your legs and placed his head between them, you gasped as you felt his hot breath being blown against your exposed pussy.

"Oh…" You moaned softly when Apollo dove into you, his tongue licking all over your most intimate and private part. You sighed in pleasure when he licked your clit. He held your thighs and penetrated you with his tongue, making you moan his name like a prayer, "Apollo… Please!"

You begged him, begged him to take you at once.

"As my wife commands." Apollo smiled mischievously, reluctantly pulling away from your pussy and quickly removed your chiton and you sighed with desire at the sight of his naked body. The body you so desperately wanted.

You leaned back a little on the bed when he approached you like a predator and took a deep breath, placing your head against the soft pillow. Apollo got between your legs and rubbed the tip of his cock against her wet slit.

Apollo stretched his body and took your lips in a passionate and lust-filled kiss, you opened your mouth a little and allowed him to put his tongue in it, touching yours in a possessive way. You wrapped your arms around your husband's waist, pulling him close to you.

When you pulled away, your lips were slightly swollen and your face was flushed. To Apollo, you were a goddess. He licked his lips and gently pushed his cock into your tight cunt, immediately feeling how your inner walls clung to him.

You held back a groan of pain, not being used to this sensation. It wasn't bad, but just weird.

As Apolo pushed himself even deeper, you began to feel a burning sensation in your private part and you held back a groan of pain. You closed your eyes tightly and bit your bottom lip.

Apollo kissed your forehead affectionately and held your hands, intertwining your fingers and squeezing them lightly.

"Open your eyes, my love." He whispered against your lips, "I want to see your beautiful eyes."

You obeyed him and opened your eyes, looking into Apollo's blue ones who smiled lovingly at you. You took a deep breath when he moved his hips a little harder, squeezing your hand instinctively.

Apollo moaned your name as your pussy squeezed him and he kissed your neck, fucking you a little harder. Your inner walls clung desperately to the god, who moaned against your soft skin.

You moaned when Apolo let go of your hand and brought it to your clit, rubbing it slowly. It sent waves of pleasure through your body and you opened your mouth, sighing in pleasure.

Apollo, feeling your body relaxing under his touch, accelerated his movements and began to hit you, eliciting moans and sly little screams from you.

"A-Apollo!" You moaned his name. Apolo fucked you hard and rubbed your clit harder, extracting pleasure from your aching body.

Apollo moaned your name loudly as he came inside you, his cum being released inside your tight pussy. He rubbed your clit for a few more minutes when you finally came on his fingers.

You were panting and sweaty, feeling pleasantly satisfied. Your first time with your husband had been very pleasant.

Apollo smiled and kissed your hand, staring at you with lust and love. You felt your pussy throb at the sight and knew that the night was far from over.

And you were happy about that.

The god of sun, with his golden radiance, (Y/N), with her deadly beauty, met under the canopy, swearing eternal love in the starlight. As Apollo and (Y/N) fell into love, their wedding night shone with the intensity of the sun and the passion of mortals and gods united in eternal love.

#kinktober #kinktober day 26 #kinktober 2023 #greek mythology #greek gods #apollo x reader #yandere greek mythology #yandere greek gods #yandere apollo #yandere apollo x reader #smut

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taeminsung · 8 months

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♡ ˚⁎⁺˳ ── exist..

pairing || bang chan x reader

summary || all he wanted to do was protect you, if only for a moment.

genre/s || fluff. hurt. comfort.

mina’s notes || been feeling some sort of way and just needed some channie comfort lately. please enjoy ♡

Quietly Chan crept through the front door of his dorm. The last time he looked at a clock, the time read our 3:42 am, which meant everyone in the dorm was, or should be, asleep with the day they had. As he moved as silently as he could, a bright sticky note on the wall before the hall to the bedrooms caused him to pause and read it over. ‘You did great today’, the note read in your handwriting. Without realizing it, a smile crept across his face. Of course, you’d leave a note here for the other members to see too. It was one of the many reasons he knew that the members loved you and you loved them. You found ways to take care of them without them ever asking you to. A small laugh escaped his lips as he remembered when Felix said that while Chan is officially dating you, it felt like they all got a partner too. Notes like this popped up from time to time, always making him wonder who was in on it with you. Continuing his journey to his much-needed bed, his thoughts drifted to how he could repay the favor this time.

Entering his room, he didn’t expect to see a silhouette sitting in the middle of his dark room. Love? He called out softly, trying not to scare you with the way he was sneaking around his own home. The silent response was enough to tell him something was off, well that, and the fact you were sitting up in his bed well after what had to be 4 am now. Had he missed an important date? Was he supposed to be somewhere today and accidentally stood you up? Is everything ok with yours and his families? A million questions came crashing into his mind before he visibly shook it off and walked towards where you were sitting, eyes taking in the way his sweatshirt extended into sweater paws over your hands, and the way the hood was just low enough to cover your face. In an instant he panicked on the inside, trying to run down all the possible reasons for this. Did you have a nightmare and wake up to an empty room?

Carefully, he sat on the edge of the bed, gaging your reaction, before scouting further into it and in front of you when you didn’t protest his initial action. As if he was trying not to break the most expensive glass piece he had ever interacted with, he reached out to take one of your paws into him, noting how wet the ends felt. His chest began to ache as he gingerly pulled you into him tucking your face into the crook of his neck, fingers gently moving up and down your back. Words formed in his mind before disappearing before he could open his mouth. Time felt like it was passing too quickly, and he couldn’t get a single word out to comfort you, all he could do was hold you close to him. Trying to back track on all your conversations lately to try to get a clue as to what may have happened, he breath hitched when you finally spoke. I feel like... silence filled the pause, Chan just wanting to urge you to continue. I feel like, a little bit like I’ve failed, you whispered after the long minutes of him holding you close. Part of him wanted to ask why but he knew that if he spoke at this moment, you’d never want to finish the thoughts that were clearly begging to be let you. I’m watching everyone around me succeed at their dreams, your breath fanned against his neck as your spoke, and I feel like I’m stuck.

In that moment, he felt like the dark had come alive and was trying to take you away from him. Pressing his lips together, his eyes shifted to the ceiling, eyes catching the last few glow-in-the-dark stars you had put on his ceiling one night when all he wanted to do was go stargazing with you. I… I don’t know what to do anymore. I just feel like I’m existing and not living, you finished with fresh tears wetting the collar of his shirt. All too well did he know this pain that you were feeling. The feeling of simply existing, rather than feeling like you were in control and living your life. Yet he knew that there wasn’t much that he could do in the form of words for you, so he settled for letting your words echo around in his mind. As your arms wrapped around his waist, he pulled his attention off the ceiling and instead to the side of your head. When your fingers dug into his shirt and face burrowed deeper into his neck with a body shaking sob, he understands that while he had a million things to tell you, mostly the reasons why he was so proud of you, he let his hands put pressure on your back, pulling you somehow even closer to him. You needed to feel grounded in this life. Slowly, he started to adjust the both of you so that instead of sitting in the bed, you were laying on your side, face still protected in the space you had called home so many times before.

All he wanted to do was dive into your brain and chase the demons, monsters, and darkness that haunted you on days like this out. His chest felt constricted as his fingers danced across your back, knowing that you didn’t want to break any further. How long had you been in this room like this? Hours? The day? Desperately he wanted to tell you that you weren’t a failure and were on your own journey in this life, one that deceiving looks like someone else’s but had its own twist and turns for you. The dreams you were longing for were going to come to you eventually, but you just needed to wait a little longer. Something he had experienced firsthand. Yet, he knows that those words would do nothing for you tonight and instead settled for being the tether that kept you grounded. Soon he felt your breaths start to even out, encaged in his arms, a small piece of his chest swelled knowing he was at least able to get you to sleep off a little bit of this. Perhaps in the morning, some of the darkness will have been lightened. Pressing a long kiss into your hair, he made a mental note to make tomorrow filled with things that made you happy, that caused his favorite smile to grace your face. He would shower you with all the love he could possibly give.

from mina with love ♡ ˚⁎⁺˳ ── thank you for reading! ♡ requests are open.

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sprout-fics · 9 months

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Rotes Mädchen: Chapter 5

(Werewolf! König x Red Riding Hood! Reader)

(Art by the lovely @zwienzixes)

(Masterlist)

Word count: 5.6k Rating: PG-13 Tags: Werewolf! König, Fairytale AU, Monster Hunters TF141, Traditional German Fairytale setting, World Building/Lore, F! Reader, Sexual tension, Slow burn, Domesticity, Literal sleeping together, Bed sharing, Angst/Comfort, Fluff Warnings: Sexual harassment by unnamed characters

In the days that follow, you begin to feel your heart unfurl.

You wake before König most mornings, pad on bare feet to the hearth with its still glowing embers and allow fire to blossom under your hands. The infant flames ward off the growing chill of dawn, light against the planes of your face until they crackle against the logs. It's the sound of splintering wood and bubbling steam from the kettle that often wakes König, who refuses to draw from bed. Instead, he tucks himself closer into the covers, growls at the thought of wakefulness and dozes a little longer. You find it oddly endearing, and it makes sense, given his seemingly nocturnal nature and with the both of you spending long hours into the night talking about all manner of things.

"I've always loved the stars." He tells you one late evening, while you perch in the loft with him, a shawl draped over your shoulders and legs dangling over the edge. He gazes up at the beams of the cabin as if he can see the sky beyond. "I learned when I was a boy to navigate by the sky. I know the winter constellations- see?" He leans over to you, shoulders bumping and raising a hand to trace invisible paths beyond the ceiling. "There's der Wasserman, the water bearer- and der Widder, the ram."

You smile, lean further into him as if you can somehow see the heavens beyond his gaze. He smells like ferns, of damp soil and pine. It floats through your thoughts, holds you cradled against his side until your eyes grow heavy to the sound of his voice.

When you wake the next morning, you find yourself in your bed, one of his blankets tucked around your shoulders, and the faint memory of being aloft in his arms.

The blanket smells like him.

König stays inside during the daytime lest he be seen by your neighbors. You venture out on most days, relishing the sunlight on his behalf. There's always work to be done in the village, and for you, who lives alone, that goes thrice fold. You hike up your skirt as you chop wood for the stove, dig through damp earth for mushrooms and roots to trade for meat, gather apples from the wild orchards, let bread dough rise above the hearth so the scent fills the cottage. Normally the things that feel mundane, perhaps even a hindrance, are now tinted with a soft sense of joy- knowing that once they are finished you return home to him and his company.

There's a tenderness in your heart that you fail to notice at first. It blooms like soft spring flowers, hides the gentle pale of its petals until sunlight washes over it. The air you breathe feels lighter, scented with rosemary hanging from the rafters, filling your lungs in a way that is wholly unfamiliar and yet so welcome. It feels much like the sound of his voice, the brief glancing touches he seems almost afraid to offer. When you meet his stare, the green of his eyes feels like a misty springtime meadow.

König is gentle with you in a way no one else has ever been. He's a touch shy, but in a way that's blessedly endearing. He calls you by soft names, Fraulein, Liebchen, and your favorite: Rotty- a play on your red cloak. He drapes it around you one morning, tying the ribbon with fumbling fingers as his eyes dart from yours to the lopsided bow. When you smile at the sound of his voice, his eyes alight with joy that bleeds into your soul. The companionship between you two comes as naturally as breathing, two lonely souls gently entwining themselves against the growing November frost to keep warm the slow filling of your hearts.

You can't deny the glances you steal when he isn't looking, watching the way he stretches so his just too-small shirt rides up the planes of his stomach or the reach of his muscular arms as he climbs the ladder to the loft. You thought his build was wiry at first, the way he was hunched in his cave, frightened and scared. Yet the more König shares your meals with you the more he fills out, adding bulk to the broadness of his shoulders and thighs.

"See something you like, fraulein?" He asks playfully when he catches you ogling him one evening as the fire glows warmly against his skin. You only return the humor in his voice with your grin.

"I like you." You reply and laugh when he splutters. Yet then he rubs the back of his neck and turns, and the moment is lost.

There's a strangeness between you two that falls in the silence. You lay awake in your bed at night, listening to him snore softly in the loft, and feel your face warm when you wonder what it would be like to fall asleep in his arms. You remember the way he relaxed into your embrace when you looped your arms around him from behind on the night he told you of his mother, wishing he would draw you closer into him in the same way you wanted him. You want to feel the warmth of him bleed into you, chase away the distant ache of your heart as he whispers your name in the darkness.

You...might want him.

Yet, you aren't sure if König wants you.

It goes beyond his shyness. There seems to be a hesitancy to König sometimes that you can't fully understand. Every time he draws closer, lets his voice grow a touch softer, and you think maybe he'll reach out and touch you, he withdraws. Almost as if he doesn't trust himself, as if he won't allow himself. There’s secrets in him that wind around his heart like brambles. You want to reach out in the space he's left absent, tell him to come closer. Yet König seems to know that he might prick your fingers, draw red from the pad of your thumb like the same curse that befell Aurora.

He seems haunted by something you can't see, something that makes him toss and turn on some nights, muttering in his sleep. Yet by the time you climb up to the loft to try to wake him, he's settled once more into stillness, and his nightmares remain a mystery. Come morning his eyes are full of warmth, and the affection in them is sometimes so profound you have to avert your gaze as your face warms under his stare.

You wish he would tell you the things he is hiding, hope that it fills the unknowable distance between you so you can indulge in the feeling of his embrace. Maybe if he tells you, he’ll allow himself to harbor affections for you in the same way you do for him. You wonder, sometimes, if you'll ever get to know the things concealed by the brambles of his heart. Maybe if you push too hard he'll leave you, and you'll be alone again.

You wish...he would stay.

-----

When you arrive at Laswell's, the mood is sour.

You enter into a quiet scene, one filled only by the hushed discussions around Laswell's table and the crackling hearth beside it. They seem not to notice you as you enter and close the door behind you. You eye your companions uneasily, instantly able to discern the low, roiling tone of frustration and restlessness that permeates the cottage.

Price is leaning back in his chair at the table, arms crossed, brow furrowed, having not even lit his pipe- a tell-tale sign of uneasiness. Beside him, Soap leans into his hands with a similar expression, listening to whatever hushed words Laswell is saying to them. Gaz casts them anxious looks from where he crouches near the hearth, tending the flames. You feel the atmosphere press heavily down on your shoulders, stale the air in your lungs as you perch nervously by the heavy oak door.

It's Ghost who notices you, dark eyes flicking up to yours with a quiet greeting. It seems to startle the rest of them from their reverie, eyes turning towards you as you approach with a tender, anxious smile.

"Red." Laswell breathes, and the flintiness fades from her stare into something more familiar. "Please, come sit."

You hesitate for a moment, unsure if you should interrupt what seems to be a serious discussion. Yet there seems to be a relief in the expressions of your friends, so you settle on the chair Laswell has kicked out with her foot for you, depositing a basket of goods atop the table.

"What's all this?" Soap asks, quick to rifle through the contents of the basket, pulling aside the cloth atop it with eager fingers.

"Some bread, jam, dried fruit, a little bit of lamb." You supply, grinning as Soap's eyes light up happily. The announcement seems to dispel the growing air of anxiousness in the cabin with a sigh of gratitude. "I figured it's a lot to feed four hungry witchers. I'd rather you not eat Kate out of house and home."

Gaz strides over as well, plucking a glass jar of jam from Soap's hands and examining it with a broad grin. He turns it over in his hands a few times before his gaze alights upon you, eyes relieved and appreciative.

"I haven't had blackberry jam in ages." He conveys softly, a touch tender but more than pleased. "Usually we're eating on the run- rabbits, squirrels, boar if we're lucky."

"Snakes too." Soap tells you over a mouthful of bread, wasting no time in devouring some of the food. You think you might hear his stomach growl. "Ghost won' eat em. Can't blame him, they're a little gamey."

"I hate snakes." Ghost offers lowly with a mild sneer, though he too draws closer to the table, plucking a few dried apples and pocketing them for later.

"This was very sweet of you, Red." Price offers from where he sits, face relaxed from his previous scowl. His words are soft, reassuring, and seem to seep away the remnants of taut unrest from the room. You feel your shoulders relax, smiling in return at his friendly, beholden gaze.

"Did you walk here by yourself?" Laswell asks, and you turn to her to see her concerned gaze flicker across her gray eyes.

The unspokenness of the threat that continues to linger in the woods weighs heavy on her words. You needn't be reminded. The entire journey over here, despite the brightness of daylight dappling through the canopy above, was fraught with memories of a massive black shadow in the woods. Even now you can't shake the memory of glowing eyes at the periphery of a haloed lantern, gleaming in the darkness, watching.

"It's still bright out." You explain, shaking off the thought. "I'll be back before dark too. I promise."

Kate looks a little unconvinced, and though she opens her mouth to speak, she's interrupted by a grunt of disapproval from Soap as Gaz tries to wrestle a roll out of his hands. The two bicker for a moment before Laswell sighs, levies them with a stern look and gentle reminder of "Boys." that has both witchers instantly obey and duck their heads in apology.

"Let them eat, Kate." Price sighs, rubbing a hand over his face wearily. "They'll need their strength."

That seems to pass through the group like an electric current, summoning the bright flash of eyes and coiled muscles in response to Price's words. You blink at the return of this tense atmosphere, slide your eyes to Laswell's pinched expression. She catches your gaze, holds your stare for a long moment.

"The full moon is the night after tomorrow." Kate confesses quietly, and her hands reach between you to settle upon yours in your lap. You look from them to her face, your expression open with concern.

"But-" You manage, realization drawing across your thoughts. "You haven't found the wolf."

Somehow, it's Ghost's eyes you land upon in the room of averted gazes. The masked witcher refuses to look away for a few moments, and you think that if you peer past the mask you can see the tightness of his brow in frustration.

"There's been no sign of it." Gaz confesses quietly. "Not since that night."

That night, weeks ago now, the one where you had met them for the very first time. The one where you had allowed yourself a single look over your shoulder to see the mammoth, ragged shadow that seemed to blot out the light of the moon. It had gazed after you, your red cape fluttering behind you as Price rode off into the darkness, feeling the glowing stare of it chasing behind your thoughts.

"You injured it." You breathe, remembering Price at your door soon after. "Maybe...maybe you killed it?"

Price shakes his head, lips a thin line. "We would have found the body by now."

"T-then maybe you chased it off." You try, voice a little firmer now. "Maybe it got injured and retreated up to the mountains."

It's Soap who offers you a quiet, concerned gaze, having placed down his food. "Even if that were true, lass, it will come back. The thing needs blood, it needs to eat."

You feel an icy wave of dread wash over you, one that's not warmed by the crackling hearth at your back. Gaz nudges his friend a touch harshly, scowling.

"Don't scare her." Gaz warns quietly, and Soap levies a glancing frown at him.

"Not tryin’ tae scare her." He retorts, rubbing the spot on his arm. "She needs to know."

You swallow. Your throat feels dry.

"Know...what?" You venture quietly, and Soap turns to you once more, eyes softening as he takes in your frightened gaze. Yet it's Price who responds to your query.

"Your village." Price offers solemnly, and all eyes in the room draw to his hunched posture, his darkened gaze. "Many may die."

Devastating silence.

You stare at Price, your horror written clear across your face. The cabin suddenly feels too small, too thin, the perimeter of the woods pressing closer in on you. Suffocating. When you breathe, it isn't the familiar smell of dried herbs and bubbling stew. No, you swallow and taste the phantom scent of blood.

"W-what do you mean?" You manage, voice very small, wavering with fright.

Price stares at you grimly, and there's a faint concern to his stare that is shielded by the grave nature of his words.

"A wolf of this size may not stop at slaughtering livestock." He explains, voice low in prophetic warning. "We've seen what a monster like this can do. Even if you board your windows, lock your doors, paint the hinges with wolfsbane, it may not be enough to stop it."

A vision washes over you as you stare at the captain, eyes bright with fear. Your thoughts play the image of a massive, snarling beast destroying the walls and doors of houses, of snatching your neighbors from their homes and crushing them between its jaws as red seeps into the earth below a heavy, full moon. Screams slice through the air, and even with arrows lodged in the creature's back it only snarls, cuts through flesh with gigantic, glinting claws.

None will be safe.

"Red." Laswell presses forward, tone urgent. "Please. Come stay here. I know you don't want to leave your home, but it isn't safe. We can protect you. I don't-"

Laswell swallows, oddly emotional. Her gray eyes alight with a sudden insistency that plucks at your ribs. "I can't lose another friend." She whispers, feather light like graveyard mist. "Please."

Your face falls, mouth snapping shut as you regard your friend.

Gently, the soft smell of ferns, of earth and musk washes across your senses, draws you back through the winding forest paths and up the steps of your cottage. There, it's a familiar voice, gentle and pleased that greets you, that skims across your skin and leaves glowing captivation in its wake. His soft words wind around your thoughts, draw you closer to him, into the sensation of your arms wrapped around him while he whispers a question to the starlit sky, and to you.

“Would you ever leave?”

“…Yes.”

You can't leave him.

It's not that König needs you, you realize, but that you need him.

The realization thunders inside your chest hard enough to make you jolt, blink until your eyes focus once more on the woman in front of you. Kate's face is ashen with concern, and you swallow under the intensity of her stare, hands trembling.

Maybe, you think, maybe you can find a way to protect him, to keep you both safe, to bring him to your new friends without the promise of his destruction. If you can do that, if you can keep him until dawn rises on the third day-

"Just one more day." You whisper, even as the waxing moon inches closer towards fullness with every heartbeat.

"Just one more day."

-------

Your words linger in the back of your mind as you meander in the direction of the village. It's not dark, not yet, but the sunlight is fading beyond the trees, hiding behind the hills. The dimness nestled in the shadow of the valley slowly falls as a curtain over the forest and the creatures within it.

Price had once more offered you an escort back to the village, but you'd gently refused him. You need the time alone to think, and between the crowdedness of Kate's cottage and your sheltered guest back at your own, the woods offered a welcome respite from the tumult of your thoughts.

The threat of the wolf, of the monster you saw that night murmurs inside your chest with a heavy, consuming dread. Your dreams continue to be plagued by the beast, offering visions of your red cape snagged in brambles as you race through the darkened, misty woods. The wolf chases you, the earth thundering under your feet as you flee. When you stumble, fall, the creature halts to raise his fanged muzzle to the heavy yellow moon, howling a cursed abraxas before his glinting eyes fall upon you once more.

It's been several weeks now since that night, but the fear the monster presents has yet to fade. Now, in the imminent promise of the carnage to come, you huddle into yourself, look to the trees and wonder if these woods will be the same as they once were once all is over.

You're terrified, of course. For yourself, yes, but for your friends, fit to fight as they are. Soap's story of his young, brawny squad mates falling one by one to a werewolf's claws ripples across the vision of all of them, and you try not to imagine them befalling the same fate. The image of your tiny, unassuming village devastated by the wrath of a singular behemoth feels less like a nightmare and more like an imminent prophecy.

As you look down the streets just as you meet the edge of town, you try not to imagine them streaked with blood and ash, houses torn asunder and the mangled corpses of your neighbors strewn across the lanes. You feel powerless to stop it, knowing the fate that awaits you all, but unable to protect anyone. Not even yourself.

Not even him.

Your house glows with warm, welcoming lantern light in the distance, smoke curling from the chimney with the gentle whisper of birch across your senses. You know the sound of the voice that will greet you, know the soft skim of his fingers and the unblinking interest in his eyes he never speaks. You know you'll both talk long into the evening as you always do, laugh over steaming mugs of cider until your eyes droop heavy and he offers a ginger murmur of "Sleep, Rotty."

You want these evenings to go on forever, you think. Your home is no longer the hollow, empty thing it once was. It feels warm, full, embraced in a tender touch that soothes the lonely fringes of your soul. The presence of him feels so much like the pine scented cradle of the woods around you, something that holds you safe, ensconced in protection. It whispers words to you that you can't understand, but you know in your heart all the same.

Home.

A home about to be ravaged, destroyed, and perhaps him with it.

He asked you once before in a desperate plea not to tell the witchers of his presence, too afraid they might see a leper like him as something not human- a threat. You've worked hard to earn his trust, relish in the gift of it bestowed in chuckled laughter and fleeting touches. To betray it, to tell Laswell that as much she wants to protect you, you need to protect someone too, to reveal him to the people who may very well want to hurt him-

You pause just beyond the stone fence of your yard, look up at the small slope leading to your front door, and once more feel your chest ache with terrible indecision.

You can protect him, you think in a silent, daring hope. You can protect him just a little longer from them.

As your hand lands on the wooden gate to your garden there's a voice that calls out behind you, and you freeze.

You can't make out the words, slurred and unintelligible as they are, but it's the tone that makes you pause, your startled expression peeking from under your red hood.

A man stumbles his way towards you. You recognize him. He's one of the hunters' sons, a lanky, young fellow with large, boyish ears and scruffy dark hair. He's smiled at you before, but the intentions behind his eyes had seemed anything but gentle. The night you, Soap, and Gaz rode through the town square you think you might have seen him, silent as the accusation of your impurity rang hollow against your curled form.

He's holding something in his hand, and you shy away from him as he approaches, untrusting of the staggered sway of his feet and sinister sprawl of his lips. Your stomach roils with acute awareness, skin suddenly cold beyond the chill of sunset.

"Guten Abend." He greets casually, slurring his words. He leans on the corner post of your fence as you try and subtly shift towards your front door, senses awash with danger. "You looked so lonely walking home, fraulein. May I keep you company?"

"No." You respond quickly, voice flat. You scowl at him, trying to clearly display your steadfast disinterest, but the waver of your voice fails to conceal your fright. He seizes on it, straightens and takes a step towards you. It only makes you take a noticeable step back. "Please leave."

The hunter’s son frowns at that, pauses to raise the bottle in his hand to his lips. The wine inside runs a red rivulet down his chin. Yet the ire in his expression is gone in a moment, replaced once more by his ill-intentioned grin.

"It's almost the full moon." He croons, straightening and running one hand over the fence posts as he saunters towards you. You slip inside the gate as he does, chastising yourself for never fixing the latch. Your frowning disposition has taken on a skittish anxiety now as he tries to close the distance, instincts blaring with alarm as he continues. “It's dangerous to be here alone, by yourself."

I'm not. You almost say, jaw snapping shut before you can reveal the presence of König inside.

"I can protect you." He goes on, resting a heavy hand on your gate you'd closed behind you, and your skin prickles at the brazen encroachment on your territory, hands shaking at your sides. "I can keep you safe from the wolf."

"I don't need your help." You bite back, hackles rising now at the threat this man poses to you. Though you tremble where you stand you still plant your feet, raise your voice in an effort to ward him away from you and your home. "You need to leave."

The ire returns in the form of a sneer, and before you can stop him the man swings the gate wide and makes towards you with a growl. You skid on your feet for a moment before racing up the hill to your door, making it inside moments before his fist pounds on the wood. When he tries for the handle you’re quick to latch it, preventing him from entering. It does nothing to calm his temper, and he shoves at the door with your back pressed to it.

"You think you're better than us!" He yells abruptly from beyond the threshold, and you tremble as you desperately press yourself to the door, feeling it shake under his blows. "You're nothing more than a common whore! You and that witch have seduced those men, we can tell!"

Witch.

The accusation pulses through you like an axe to wood, bludgeoning your fragile nerves and making your hands rise to your mouth to contain a shuddering cry of despair. It’s a curse, a jinx meant only for ruin. Once you’ve been accused to the village of such a thing, no amount of protest could ever prove your innocence. Laswell, even with her gray-eyed wisdom, wouldn’t be able to escape.

Neither would you.

He’s cursed you both.

"I bet you're a witch too! Just like her!” He bellows, kicking the base of the door so hard you squeak a shrill, high sound choked in your throat. “You probably brought the wolf here yourselves to kill us all!!"

You can barely hold yourself upright, terrified beyond measure as the door trembles. The earth rolls underneath your feet, shuddering along with your form. Fear, dread, realization bubbles as a deadly potion inside your veins, making your whole body tremble and sway unsteadily. The drum of your heartbeat is fit to burst, the thrum in your ears thunderous, nearly blocking out the man’s voice.

“Do you hear me?! You’ll be the death of us all!!”

A shadow looms over you, falling across your figure and blotting out the warm haze of lantern light. You whimper on instinct, mind discerning just another threat as the body above you leans to brace his wide palms on the door. He leans to keep it from shaking at your back, green eyes watching you shake and shiver, hands pressed to your mouth to silence your cries.

"Don't listen." König tells you, loud enough for only you to hear. His voice is gentle, a startling juxtaposition to the man on the other side of your door. You cling to it desperately, trying to find an anchor amidst the fear and confusion of this sudden assault even as the man yells and pounds at the door. König remains silent, still, pressing his weight against it to try and keep it from trembling. His eyes look down at you even as tears threaten your own, feeling so much like a little girl lost in the woods with no way to escape.

At last, your accuser grows tired, hurls a few remaining curses at you before you hear him stumble down your garden and back towards the main road. You listen to him leave, take several long minutes to be entirely sure of his absence before finally unleashing a trembling, shaking breath of relief.

König waits a long moment before he removes his palms braced above you, no longer crowding you with his massive frame. Yet he doesn’t move away from you just yet, lingers before you even as you breathe into your palms, watery gaze cast to the floor. It’s only once his hand catches your chin, tilts you up to his masked gaze that he speaks.

“Rotty.” He whispers, that beloved nickname he’s bestowed upon you, now spoken with such tender hushed concern. “Are you alright?”

Your lip trembles as you look up at him, face warm with mortification, fear, and anger all rolled into one. Your eyes threaten tears, and through them you can see the soft, worried light of his gaze onto you. He holds you as if you’re something fragile, threatening to break apart should he dare touch you. Yet the warmth of him is undeniable, a flickering hearth that draws you closer. You desperately want to bask like springtime flowers under the dappled sunlight of his stare.

Like home. Your mind offers again, unbidden, and the thought is enough to finally make the tears overspill. A sob cracks your throat, the desperation of loneliness bubbling up in a cry before you can stop it, sending you hurtling into his chest.

You fall into him, arms stretching to wrap as far around the trunk of his form as they’ll go. König jolts at the unexpected touch, coiling in surprise. His hands flutter uncertainly over you, as if he’s not entirely sure where to put them. You think perhaps he’ll pull away, will gently pry himself from you with a hushed apology. He’s constantly like that, allowing himself to dance closer to your flickering flame, only to pull away once more into the shadows. So, your arms fasten around him, fists gripping at the fabric of his shirt in a silent bid to keep him there just a little longer.

Slowly, he eases, allows himself to unwind with a barely audible exhale. His hands descend to your shoulders, soothe downwards to your back, pressing you closer into him as you shudder. You drink in the scent of him, moss and rosemary that floats down from the rafters, of damp soil that coats your fingertips in a beloved embrace. There’s a part of you in this moment that thinks perhaps you’ve known him all your life, have been wandering these woods in search of him without knowing it ever since you were a child- lost and lonely…

…and now found.

“It’s alright, Schatz.” He murmurs in a hushed reassurance, buoying you against him as you desperately try to contain your sobs. His hands grip at you as if he’s trying to memorize the press of your figure against his, as if it will be the last time he will ever hold you. It summons a fresh bout of tears to your eyes, throat thick with a gasping sob as you nestle further into his chest.

“They can’t hurt you.” He goes on, and his voice takes on a dangerous intonation, the semblance of growl reverberating against your wet cheek. You feel his nails dig into your shoulder for the briefest of moments, as if suddenly sharpened by his anger, only to relax less than a heartbeat later. The meaning of his words is left unsaid but echoes in the scarce space between you all the same.

“I won’t let them.”

He allows you several long minutes of your shoulders trembling under his palms before he gently slides his arms around you, bending to cradle an arm beneath your legs. He lifts you to him, and you go without protest, looping your arms around his shoulders and tucking your chin under his jaw. He’s gentle as he moves, careful of where he steps and oddly different from his typical clumsy nature. After a few moments he slowly descends, releasing you so you gingerly slide into your bed.

Yet when he tries to carefully remove your arms around his shoulders you make a whimpering sound of protest, webbing your fingers together in an unbreakable hold.

“Please.” You whisper, throat hoarse from crying, afraid he’ll refuse you. “Stay.”

König pauses, until he releases his inhibitions with a soft exhale. “Of course, Rotty.” He murmurs, and moves to arrange himself beside you in bed, hauling you back into his embrace and curling around you protectively.

The last of your sobs abate, but the fear and worry there remains behind. You cling to König as if that will keep him by your side, protecting you from the curse about to befall your beloved valley in the shadow of the monster. You wind yourself around him like ivy, desperately trying to never part from him, keep him nestled in the hollow of your heart as long as you’re allowed. His deep, even breaths whisper across your skin, feeling like the barest whisper of a breeze through aspen trees.

“I’ll keep you safe.” He vows in a sacred whisper to you, an oath you shut your eyes against, wanting it desperately to be true. His arms close around with a sudden ferocity so fervent it steals the air from your chest. “I’ll protect you, Rotty. I won’t let them touch you.”

You stay silent, allowing the meaning of his words to wash over you. The secrets between you remain unspoken, and as desperately as you want to understand them you settle for this instead- the heat of him, the curl of his body around yours, the press of his hand in your hair, the arm settled heavy across your form that shelters you from the world. You try to memorize it, try to imbue it into the repository of your memories so that if you survive the imminent cataclysm you’ll continue to remember him.

One more day, you remind yourself with a silenced whisper. One more day here, with him. With us.

You send a prayer up to the heavens that after all of this is over you’ll both walk into the woods hand in hand, having found each other after a lifetime of wandering the fern lined paths.

The moon grows heavy in your thoughts.

Taglist: (If you'd like to be tagged in future updates please REBLOG this post)

@writeforfandoms @zwiiicnziiix @soapskneebrace @tealikestoread @mikrou @atenceladusiaawfytbwb @kiroshang @adorephina @equalstrashflavoredtrash @dog55teeth @seraphimcollections @pettyprocrastination @borderlinecatboybehavior @warenai @moskaisley @nachtcirce @feelingnotmyself @lovenotcomputed @rk1v35 @kikisstrawberrie @emrzennn @montenegroisr @frazie99 @graybraids @ohgraywardens @tangerines-mustache @poohkie90 @arbesa-mind @glitterypirateduck @ihatethinkingofnames10

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#konig x reader #konig x you #könig x reader #könig x you #könig x f! reader #my writing #my fic #fic: rotes madchen

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ravolix · 9 months

Text

late night talking

synopsis: though he always has been a tough nut to crack, you and scaramouche have grown to be best friends. however, on a late-night phone call with him, he finds himself drowsily enamored.

content: modern au, gn!reader, second person, romantic pining (scaramouche), (supposed) one-sided love, fluffy as shit

In hindsight, staying up until 2AM just to talk in mumbled whispers on a school night isn’t the smartest idea. However, when it comes to you, there are no smart ideas in Scaramouche’s mind.

“Oh, and we need to check out that carnival coming sometime in June,” you were saying, extending a finger as you list off another activity.

“Mhm,” Scaramouche hummed absentmindedly. As much as your energy is infectious, he can’t deny the way his eyes start to flutter shut every now and then. Even his grip on the phone falters, the device hot from the nearly 4 hours you’ve been calling for.

“We could also visit the aquarium, the coffee shop behind the—“ You continue the list before you cut yourself off. A single glance into your screen paints a clear picture as to where Scaramouche’s mind is right now.

“Scara? You good?”

“Hm? Uh, yeah,” he murmurs, rubbing away the sleep from his eyes. However, a small yawn escapes him that’s a bit hard to miss, “Keep talking.”

To that, he hears a stifled laugh instead of a verbal response. He glances over to your portrait on his phone, taking in the way the faint artificial light hits your face. How the shadows of your room seem to frame your features so perfectly and the fact that your smile—

“Nah, I’ll stop for tonight. Wouldn’t want you to die from a lack of sleep,” you eventually reply with a chuckle. Scaramouche can hear (and barely see) you flip over in your bed, pulling the covers over your body.

In this new angle, he gets to see a new perspective of your face. A part of him wishes he could just reach out and tuck away that stray piece of hair laying on your forehead. Perhaps if he was there with you, you wouldn’t feel the need to go under the covers for warmth.

Instead, however, he just nods.

“Fair. Guess I’ll catch you tomorrow,” he replies softly, a wind-down from the previous energy the call carried.

“Yep, see you,” your lips curve into a gentle smile.

Scaramouche only replies with a cough, trying to cover up the faint blush as he finds himself getting flustered over your pixely face.

“Sweet dreams, Scara.”

Before he can open his mouth to reply, you already hung up. Though a part of him wishes the call lasted a bit longer, the other part is glad you didn’t have to hear whatever was about to slip from his mouth.

After a few seconds, he sighs and places his phone on his bedside table. He then proceeds to bury his face into the silky case of his pillow as his tired fists come to gently slam against the mattress. Nothing much is heard from him except for a few unintelligible mumbles.

Eventually, Scaramouche flips over onto his back as he stares up at the ceiling. Faint glow-in-the-dark stars from his childhood seem to stare back at him. He lets his eyes flutter shut as a small chuckle escapes his lips.

“Who needs dreams if you’re the sweetest thing I have?”

notes: just another random babble :)) im not the best at writing dialogue but it’s better to do it once in a while

i really like writing scara as this silly little loser rather than a sadistic asshole (atleast in modern aus) (a bit delulu)

ah also i kind of forgot about the harry styles song up until right before posting this, but let’s say it’s loosely inspired 👍

taglist:

@aphroditesswan

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact scaramouche #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #scara x y/n #scaramouche #scara modern au #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche imagines #genshin fluff #scara fluff #gn reader

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cheriiyaya · 4 months

Note

Hello-! So I just discovered that I actually read a lot of your fics and never realized??? How have I not given you a follow yet?? My apologies queen

Anywho I very kindly saw that you were looking for requests- and this is my first time requesting so apologies if it’s not the best, feel free to ignore this if you don’t like it <33

I’ve read what you wrote for Chuuya, and all of it’s been itching my brain. Chuuya needs a hug, might I request just a simple drown yourself in fluff (and maybe a little comfort— that no comfort angst killed me) cuddles on the couch with Chuuya after a long day? You can do Fem or Neutral X reader I don’t mind either way <33

Don’t forget to take care of yourself, you amazing human being. Drink water, eat, treat yourself, you are loved and appreciated even if others don’t show it ♥︎♥︎♥︎

All the quiet nights you bear

⋆⁺₊⋆☾ Chuuya's always working too hard, so you try to get him to relax in your embrace

⋆⁺₊⋆☾ Contents: Chuuya x Fem!reader, fluffy fluff, you comforting chuuya after a rough day, no use of y/n or name, 517 words

⋆⁺₊⋆☾ A/N: AHHH anon i'm GIGGLING and blushing first off THE PROMPTS IS SO CUTE??? AND YOU'RE LITERALLY THE SWEETEST OML MWAH <33 I hope I could do justice for chuu' on this one :DD

The rustling sound as you turned the pages of your book soon wasn't the only noise that broke the monotonous silence of the apartment.

You looked up from your book to be greeted with the sight of chuuya, who was grumbling about something until he looked at you and broke into a small grin.

"...hey doll." He walked over to you on the couch, plopping down with a sigh and leaning on the back of the couch. You smiled, placing your book down and reaching over to brush strands of ginger hair out his face.

"Tired?"

"mmh, a bit." Chuuya slumped a bit, staring up at the ceiling and you could tell from the way his lips pressed in a line and how his brows furrowed ever so slightly he was worrying about something.

You weren't gonna allow that.

Carefully, you grabbed his hand, gently peeling off his leather gloves and chuuya raised his eyebrows, lips curling ever so slightly.

"What are you doing, hm?" He murmured and you hummed in response, bringing his hand to your lips and kissing his palm, then every single fingertip. Chuuya stared at you in awe as you did so, a slight flush covering his cheeks and he leaned his head into the crook of your neck, mumbling something inaudible. You giggled and looked at him before practically pouncing onto him, getting rid of the glove on his other hand as you cupped his face, relishing in the way he shivered and blushed more as you lightly smoothed your thumb across the sensitive curve of his jaw. Chuuya looked up at you, grey eyes sparkling with pure adoration for the one in front of him.

"Darling-" You cut him off with a prompt kiss, pulling back a second later. You laughed softly at his flustered face, how his lips parted and his eyes wide.

"C'mon, it's just a kiss! Can't handle it?" You teased, tilting his head up and littering kisses over his face as chuuya let out muffled protests before succumbing to you display of affection. He sighed and smoothed his hand over your hair, relaxing as you peppered kisses and touches along his face.

"mmh, chuu' you're so pretty it's unfair." You jokingly said the last bit-although you did mean it-watching as he let out a stifled laugh. You hummed and brushed his hair back, curling it behind his ear and playfully kissing the tip of his nose. Chuuya was glowing under your soft praises and words of affection at this point, idly drawing hearts and stars on your thigh with the tip of his finger. It was hard to believe that the Port Mafia executive, the vessel of Arahabaki, was the same man with a boyish grin plastered on his face while he stared at you. Just as you leaned back to admire his flushed face, chuuya pulled you back, playfully kissing you and pulling back with a sly grin as he then trailed his thumb down your neck, eliciting a dusting of red from your face.

"Leaving already? My pretty doll gave me so much love, so how about I return the favour, yeah? How does that sound pretty girl?"

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!!

©Cheriiyaya 2023

#☾⋆⁺₊⋆ 𝕽𝖊𝖉'𝖘 𝕽𝖚𝖒𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖘 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs #chuuya nakahara #chuuya x reader #chuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuya nakahara #nakahara chūya #chuuya x y/n #chuuya x you

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deepouterspacecandy · 1 month

Text

Our Sanctuary of Ruin: Part Two

18+ Only. Violence, graphic sexual content, gore, references to death.

The thought of Abby being a mother absolutely melts me. There are tough themes in this one, but there’s a whole lot of fluff and domestic bliss mixed in, too. I’m taking a brief break from writing because my training schedule is intense, but I’ll definitely check back regularly to respond to your comments and asks. Thank you a million. I appreciate you.

The corridors of the stadium are a disorienting maze of shadow and rot.

Dust-covered lenses bleed a florescent glow onto the dusty walls below, emergency bulbs buzzing eerily.

It’s hard to imagine that just a few hours ago, people were rushing to their rooms and plowing through the crowd toward the exit gates. Now, it seems only remnants of them remain to stumble upon.

The wailing sirens persisted until the generators sputtered their final breath, the deafening noise resonating across the city to beckon every infected from miles around.

If, by some stroke of luck, you were able to escape, you would have simply found yourself trapped in the brutal clutch of a slow and agonizing demise.

“Can you hold the baby for a second?” Abby asks.

The unsettling stillness in the air is haunting, and with every clumsy stumble of a reanimated corpse triggering the motion detector, it amplifies the chill seething under your skin.

A cascade of light flickers on just long enough to reveal the macabre sights scattered across the field.

Abby’s heavy hand landing on your shoulder startles you.

“I need you to take the baby, okay? I’ll be right back.”

“No,” you say. “You are not leaving.”

That she would even suggest it, given everything you’ve just experienced together, leaves you stammering. Fear, camouflaged as anger, lingers at the edge of your voice.

“Don’t you dare leave my sight,” you say. “Do you hear me?”

Her arm cradles the bundle of blankets, and you can’t help but marvel at how delicate the infant looks against her broad chest. It’s taken a small miracle to soothe the baby and bring an end to the incessant crying. You’re reluctant to interrupt the peace and risk another wave of violence.

Glass shards crunch beneath her boots while she sways to a lullaby only she can hear.

“I have always come back for you,” she says, gently cupping your jaw, tilting your chin to meet her gaze. “Haven’t I?”

“Abigail, don’t.”

“I can’t leave them like this,” she says.

Murky dread twists at the pit of your stomach as you shift your gaze beyond her and peer into Jordan’s apartment. From floor to ceiling, their windows are a shattered mosaic of broken dreams.

As you reach for the baby, their tiny body wriggles uncomfortably, until you find yourself naturally swaying back and forth, mirroring Abby’s movements.

Small eyelids flutter open, and in the absence of light, a luminous galaxy of guiding stars reveals itself.

“Hi, there,” you say, your voice a strained whisper. “You are so small. How are you this little, huh?”

“I can make this better,” Abby says, leaning in to press her lips to your forehead, snuffling to hold back her tears. “I’m going to make this better, okay?”

Despite the madness of an impossible world, Abby always keeps her promises.

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

The grassy, sweet notes of green tea drift down the hallway from the kitchen, where you can hear Abby humming a familiar tune.

You bury your face into the silk pillow beside you, its shape still molded by her presence. The fabric feels refreshingly cool against your skin, and as you take a deep breath, the subtle muskiness of moss and ferns blends harmoniously with the citrus notes of pine.

A small child clings to you like a little sloth, having snuck in at some point during the night. Despite the ache in your back, there’s a strange relief in already knowing where they are before your feet touch the floor.

“You awake back there, Caelus?” you whisper, your voice carrying a sleepy rasp.

When their only reaction is soft exhale, you allow it to be.

You still have a few precious moments to surrender to sleep, and the drowsiness pulls you back in. The sound of Abby packing up for work is a comforting ruckus, a reminder she will be waiting for you somewhere nearby when you wake up.

With each passing morning, as the sun makes its gradual climb into the sky, you and your child set off on your route to the schoolhouse, delighting in the energy that accompanies your journey.

“What’s this one?” Caelus asks.

In their state of fascination with insects, they eagerly point at a beetle, its iridescent shell catching the light. Abby always stays updated on topics like these, and you hate not knowing, so you make your best effort not to seem ignorant in front of your own child.

“It’s a Doodlebug,” you lie.

“Oh!”

“It’s kind of pretty, isn’t it?” you ask.

Caelus shakes their head and wrinkles their nose, mirroring Abby’s notorious expression of uncertainty.

“His feet are too prickly,” they say.

The child kneels to get a closer look, but when the beetle abruptly flies away, causing them to scream in surprise, it’s confirmation that Caelus dislikes Doodlebugs completely.

Moving through the thoroughfare, the sharp aroma of charred wood fills your nose, while colourful murals bring life to the buildings lining the path.

Scattered throughout the streets, small flower gardens bloom, greeting the season.

While the settlement operates with the guidance of a small committee and the active participation of all its inhabitants, the community holds your family with Abby in high esteem as the town’s original founders.

The diligent work put into making the residents feel safe and cared for is clear in the warm greetings you receive wherever you go.

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

The moment your child catches sight of Abby in the distance, their eyes become saucers. They yank on your arm before jumping up and down, flailing their hands to get her attention.

Piecing together salvaged metal sheets and reclaimed materials, Abby and her crew work together to repair a section of the wall damaged by recent storms. At intervals along the perimeter, guard towers stand tall, manned by residents who are ardent about defending their home.

Under the morning sun, Abby’s powerful body glistens with sweat, showcasing her unwavering dedication to removing the sleeves from all her shirts. The sight of her muscles flexing makes you want to take a pair of scissors to every piece of clothing she owns.

Your little one races towards Abby with great speed, their shoes pounding across the pavement.

Amidst the crowd of early risers, laughter erupts, adding a bright ambiance to the atmosphere as they admire Caelus before going about their daily tasks. The thing that really stands out to you is how thrilled Abby looks when she spots the people she loves approaching.

“Found you, Mama!” Caelus shouts.

Abby skillfully grabs hold of the human cannon hurtling towards her, twirling around until they both become too disoriented to remain on their feet. Joyfully, they roll together to the ground. When your child crashes into Abby once more, she lands flat on her back and bursts into rumbling laughter, summoning you to join in the merriment.

“When did you get so strong?” she asks.

“Today!” your child exclaims, their eyes shining with triumph. “Look at my guns!”

You give Abby a playful scolding, your hands firmly planted on your hips.

“What are you teaching our child?”

“How to be cool and awesome, obviously,” she retorts. With Caelus sprawled across her chest, Abby gently digs her fingers into their tiny ribs, causing their cackles to bubble up like an overflowing brook. “Right, Cae? Or are you just ticklish?”

Your child gasps for air and pins Abby with a serious look when the giggle attack subsides.

“How come you’re not ticklish?” they ask.

“Oh, I am,” Abby says. “But only mommy knows all my secret spots.”

“That’s not fair,” Caelus grumbles.

Manny hobbles over on his crutches, curiosity piqued by the commotion. Despite his arduous path to recovery, he never hesitates to contribute, continuing to be the finest marksman you’ve ever encountered.

Caught up in the moment, your little one forgets about Manny’s injuries and impulsively jumps on him.

In a reflexive action, you shout, propelling yourself forward to intervene and prevent what’s unfolding. Manny’s response is a calm smile and a dismissive shake of his hand, as he brushes off your unease.

“Sorry, Uncle Manny,” Caelus says.

“I am not made of glass,” Manny snorts, tousling the child’s hair. “No worries.”

As you watch them venture along the newly repaired wall, chatting amongst themselves, a wave of guilt washes over you for raising your voice.

With a dirt-streaked forearm shielding her eyes, Abby looks up at you, her gaze a mix of empathy and unmistakable hunger.

“You know this is my favourite outfit, right?” she says.

“I think you’ve mentioned it.”

Lost in thought, you stand there, arms crossed over your chest, gaze fixed unseeingly on your sneakers.

Abby tugs on your shoelace, untying them and compelling you to join her on the soft grass. You take a seat beside her, and as Abby’s crew guides your child through the art of hammering a nail, you’re captivated by their precise instructions and animated gestures.

When Abby strokes your thigh, you’re tethered to the earth, setting free your deepest worries.

“I really suck at this parenting thing.”

“Stop that,” she says. “You’re an incredible mom. Caelus is lucky to have you—we both are.”

“I never want to scare them,” you say.

The weight of Abby’s grief is palpable, mourning a mother she has no memories of.

“You panicked, it happens,” Abby says, planting a kiss on the palm of your hand. “Baby, look at me.”

Abby has a reputation for being blunt, so if she had any issues with your parenting, she wouldn’t hesitate to express it. Sometimes it’s tough to break free from your thoughts, even when you know they’re lying to you.

“Raising a kid with you is the best. I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she says.

Her lips curve into a lopsided grin as her hand sneaks under your shirt, tickling your abdomen.

“Uh oh. What is that look?” you ask.

“I never really thought about it before this—having kids, you know? But watching you with Caelus kind of makes my ovaries hurt,” she says with a chuckle. “You’d look real good with my baby in you.”

“Oh my god,” you blurt. “You better cut it out right now, Anderson.”

You brush away her hand and she’s radiating happiness.

“I’m just saying,” she giggles.

“Well, why is it my center of gravity that has to change—what about you, huh?” you ask.

“What about me?” Abby snorts.

“I think you’d look pretty delicious sporting a baby bump, just saying.”

A blush rises from her chest, painting her entire body a delicate shade of pink. Bathed in the sun’s warm glow, she becomes an ethereal vision of beauty, exuding an aura of calmness and security.

With a cocky brow raised, Abby brushes her fingertips against the exposed skin beneath your shirt.

“You’d miss my abs too much,” she teases.

“I already do,” you groan. “Don’t even get me started.”

Manny limps back to you, leaving your kid to assist with reconstructing the fences. His bond with Caelus goes beyond being Abby’s closest friend - it is reinforced by the fact that he was also Jordan’s friend and comrade.

The night your child was born, Manny was there.

The crisp hiss of beer cans being opened as Manny raised a toast to the birth of a new wolf cub and to Jordan’s brave proposal of marriage sifts to the forefront of your memory.

“He’d be proud,” Manny says with furrowed brows, his fingers absentmindedly picking at a small scab on his elbow. “Jordan couldn’t swing a hammer to save his life.”

The double meaning hits you square in the chest, causing your breath to catch, and you observe Abby being struck by the same brutal force.

You reach out your hand and find she’s already clinging to it.

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

Each week brings fresh growth and expansion to the greenhouses, as they continue to thrive.

This is the first year your town has made substantial trades with other communities, and it has brought about a remarkable transformation.

Unlike Isaac, Abby’s approach involves placing equal weight on both forming treaties and nurturing long-lasting relationships.

Prior to the stadium’s collapse, most had already observed this trait in her, so it came as no surprise when many of the survivors and soldiers distanced themselves from the WLF and instead opted to follow Abby.

In the beginning, the situation was grim, and you were anxious that they might betray her, but their shared difficulties only fueled their determination to remain a cohesive unit.

Humanity continues to surprise you with its remarkable ability to inspire hope.

“Carrots or beets?” you mumble to yourself, perusing the lush aisles.

It is thanks to the bravery and endurance of your people that you have the luxury of thinking about what you will prepare for your family’s dinner.

Abby has a fondness for tomatoes that are crunchy and seasoned with a sprinkle of salt. Once they become squishy in the middle, she doesn’t hesitate to toss them into the pigpen. You pull a few from the vine with a satisfying tug, their deep red skin firm and smooth.

While she’s a total snap pea enthusiast, obsessed with their juicy pods, her favourite pastime has become flicking the peas across the kitchen with her spoon. It creates playful chaos that your child eagerly joins in on, but you’ve caught one in the eye a time or two.

You drop only a few handfuls into your basket, as you prefer to see the nutrients being consumed rather than flung across your linoleum floor.

It’s no great loss as potatoes are Abby’s true obsession, anyway—so much so that she keeps a clandestine garden dedicated solely to their cultivation in the backyard.

Abby’s meticulous care of the vegetable crops, ingeniously built out of rubber tires, keeps you going when you’re drowning in your thoughts by the kitchen sink. Your heart spills over with a bittersweet ache as you witness her skill in teaching valuable lessons to your child, always with a touch of fun.

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

Upon returning home from the greenhouse, the unexpected sight of two leather boots greets you, their muddy soles peeking out from the end of the couch. Inching forward on silent tiptoes, you notice Abby is indulging in a rare afternoon nap.

Her work ethic hasn’t changed in the slightest, her muscular hands calloused from keeping the community in one piece, but she no longer embarks on any overnight journeys—a blessing you value every morning as you wake up beside her.

Leaning against the bench of your breakfast nook, you watch her chest rise and fall with each breath, grateful that she is finding serenity through rest. It has taken years to convince her it’s okay to take a break.

“You’re welcome to join me,” Abby murmurs, voice muffled by the couch cushion. “Whenever you’re done being a creep.”

“Damn it, Abby,” you huff. “How long have you been awake?”

“Since you walked through the door.”

“Great,” you say, bending over to collect a pile of wooden blocks spilling from the back of a toy truck. Before shuffling across the carpet to put them away, you can’t resist tossing a block at Abby’s backside, laughing as she grunts in protest. “I’ll get you one day, mark my words.”

“You almost had me,” she says.

Her drowsy gaze lingers on your body, tracing every curve and contour. While you run your fingers through your hair, suddenly aware of your appearance, she adjusts herself to make space for you.

“How long before our rug rat gets home?” Abby asks.

Your stomach flutters as you hear the subtle shift in her tone.

“Any minute now,” you say.

She nibbles at the dry skin on her finger, deep in thought about her next course of action.

Though you’re always together, it’s challenging to find moments of intimacy with a five-year-old running around wanting to play airplanes with Abby every twenty minutes and crawling into bed between you in the middle of the night.

“If you’re in the mood,” Abby says, moistening her lips with a slow lick. “I think I can get you there in under a minute.”

Her cunning smile stirs up a flash of desire, heat thrumming deep inside you as the temptation draws you to her like a magnet. It’s been such a long time that you suspect her forecast on your ETA is right on the money.

“Here?” you ask.

“Well, I can take you to bed,” she says. “But you won’t be leaving it.”

Sitting up on the couch, she gestures for you to park yourself on her lap.

You rush to close the curtains in the dining room and check that you’ve locked the front door. On your way back to her, your shirt hits the floor, causing her blue eyes to widen, struck by the pleasant view.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Abby murmurs.

“Takes one to know one, my love.”

Without warning, Abby pounces forward, taking your wrist and guiding you to straddle her. Sparks spread for miles in every direction as her calloused hands become reacquainted with your body. She moves slowly, painfully so, stopping to trace the dip and swell of each scar she lands on. Just when you’re certain she’s missed a spot, her fingers flex and the smooth bed of her nails backtrack to cover the ground she neglected.

“I’m so in love with you,” she whispers.

With tenderness, you cup her face in your palms and take a moment to appreciate the new freckles that have surfaced on her cheeks.

“Show me,” you say.

Abby sets a match to every cell in your body as her slick tongue darts out to taste your lips before trailing down the column of your neck to your collarbone. Looking up at you through her long lashes, you see that she’s already panting as you drag your fingers across her sculpted shoulders.

You help her undress, slipping her shirt over her head. She’s breathtaking, every edge of her swollen and defined, but she’s so soft when she looks into your eyes.

“You’re perfect,” you say.

Your arms tingle with goosebumps as she teases the sensitive parts of you that make you writhe, pausing to whimper against the shell of your ear.

“You’re perfect,” she murmurs. “I want to fuck you forever.”

“Can I try it like this?” you ask.

She hisses with anticipation as you gingerly push her knees apart, heat pooling below your navel.

“I’d fucking love that,” she says.

She helps you settle with one leg on either side of her thigh, before sliding her hands to your hips with delicious pressure. The friction from the seam of your pants intensifies as she encourages you to grind against her.

Her lips graze yours with a gentle, electrifying touch, leaving you moaning into her mouth, welcoming the stimulation.

“You’re down bad, baby,” she says.

“Watch it,” you say, relishing how swiftly your warning turns her on. “You’re down just as bad.”

“Fuckin’ rights I am—look at you,” she growls.

Gently unraveling her braid, you marvel at how it has grown in length since you last untangled it. Abby’s hair is incredibly soft, even softer than the fuzz of an orchard peach, and when her fingertips dance up your back, you know she’ll taste sweeter.

“Close your eyes,” Abby whispers.

The wild friction spreads as you grind your hips in rhythm with hers. Each searing kiss across your jaw tightens your spine like a bowstring as your busy mind fades, building a hot coil inside you, matching the increasing greediness of her mouth.

“That’s it,” Abby says. “Take what you need.”

Rocking yourself harder against her, the frenzied motion shoots all the way to your toes. She whines, her breath against your neck making you shiver.

“Please don’t stop,” Abby begs.

When a sudden, jarring knock at the door leaves you both frozen in absolute shock, the feeling of devastation hits you instantly, dousing you in a bucket of icy water.

“Are you kidding me?” you mutter.

Abby lets out a frustrated, breathless laugh before her head falls onto the back of the couch. Unable to resist, you join her, resting your forehead against hers.

“We should do this more often,” you say.

She lifts you up to place a tender kiss on your bare stomach before helping you to your feet.

“You’re hilarious,” she says.

Abby hollers over her shoulder, disappearing down the hall to splash cold water on her face.

“I’m making this happen. I don’t care if we have to climb up to the roof.”

The pounding on the door gets louder, this time coming from four different hands as far as you can tell. You quickly slip your shirt back on, giving it a once-over to ensure it’s not inside out.

“Yes, you do. You’re terrified of heights, remember?” you say.

“I dangled out of a helicopter for you. I think I can figure out how to rock your world ten feet off the ground.”

As soon as the door opens, Manny’s beaming smile suggests he didn’t miss much of your conversation. With a cheerful squeal, your tiny human launches themselves at you, their little arms wrapped around you in a tight hug.

Abby sneaks by to grab a bottle of water from the kitchen, while Manny shoulders his way past you to antagonize her.

“Should we come back later?” Manny razzes. “It looks like you haven’t finished your reps.”

“You’re about a day late and a dollar short, fucker,” Abby groans. “You have the worst timing, ever.”

“Bad word, Mama!”

“Yeah, you better watch your mouth around the little one, Abs,” Manny says. “You need to set a good example.”

Squatting in front of Caelus, she apologizes for her foul language and reaches for the folded piece of paper in their hands. It’s a picture of a helicopter and she’s captivated by it, studying every intricate detail.

“You made this all by yourself?” she asks.

“Miss Dina helped me with the udders,” Caelus says.

“Do you mean the rotors?” Abby asks, her face twisting into the sweetest smile. “That’s what these great big blades are called.”

“That’s what I said, Mama.”

With a smirk on her face, Abby lifts the little one up to the fridge, basking in their excited chatter as they debate the perfect spot to place it.

Your refrigerator is a gallery of imagination. Most of the artwork consists of random doodles and images that Caelus has reconstructed by colouring enthusiastically outside of the lines with thick stripes of crayon.

“Do you two need a little alone time?” Manny asks, giving you a rowdy shoulder check and making you stumble.

You reach into the basket on the counter and toss a pea at his head. Turns out it’s fun.

“That depends,” you say. “Are you offering?”

You watch with delight as Abby and Caelus chase each other around the house.

Abby’s dedication to your family has taken your love for her to an otherworldly level. Her capacity for protecting others knows no bounds, especially with your child. She would move mountains for them, and you’d be right there beside her.

One night without little ears around couldn’t hurt, though.

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

When the raiders come, it’s in the dead of night.

Jolted from your sleep, a bad feeling in your gut unsettles you. The bedroom you share with Abby is calm, save for the long, sheer curtains, which flutter softly in response to the gentle wind slipping through the bedroom window.

With Abby’s arm draped across your stomach, her grasp on you unyielding, you’re loathed to disturb her slumber based on a mere hunch.

You do it anyway because if you’ve learned anything, it’s that your instincts on these matters are rarely mistaken.

“Abby, wake up,” you say.

Pulling you tighter to her body, she nestles into the crook of your neck with a sleepy sigh. The untamed strands of her tussled hair stroke your face, tempting you to succumb to her embrace and drift back to sleep.

You nudge her awake slowly, not wanting to startle her, just in case your worries are unwarranted. Her soft hums vibrate against your throat while her hand glides to the side of your thigh.

“Again?” she chuckles hazily. “I don’t know if I’ve got another one left in me.”

“It’s not that,” you say. “Something feels off.”

Abby’s head tilts upwards, her curious gaze fixated on your face, trying to gauge your expression. After the trauma you’ve all endured, it’s only natural for complicated feelings to come and go from time to time.

“It’s our first night without the kid. It’s okay to be a little on edge,” Abby explains. “Want me to help with that?”

Sated and achingly sweet, Abby lies naked and pliant in your bed after spending hours pleasuring each other. To turn her down, knowing what you’d be missing, seems like a criminal act.

“Can we do a sweep?” you ask. “I know it’s late.”

“Of course,” Abby says.

You understand that’s not what she had in mind, but when your head is swimming with quandaries, it’s hard to let go. Tracing your bottom lip with her thumb, she plants a tender kiss on the tip of your nose before showering your face and chest with a thousand more obnoxiously loud, undeniably passionate ones.

They’re wet and messy, and she persists until you’re giggling like a lunatic.

Hair disheveled, her skin dappled with sweat, she catches her breath.

“I’d follow you anywhere,” you confess.

When a disturbance erupts outside, Abby is on her feet in an instant, rummaging through the closet for her clothes and gear.

“Grab Caelus,” Abby commands. “I need Manny at the wall.”

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Sometimes, despite a tempestuous start, everything falls into place.

Through her kindness and willingness to forgive, Abby has welcomed several people into the fold you’d otherwise expect her to shoot on sight. Back when she was still donning the WLF patch on her coat, it was highly likely that she would have.

All the weary wanderers have found redemption to be well worth the time and effort so far.

But on occasion, no matter how hard Abby tries, she’s forced to make the bitter decision to eradicate the threat to protect what she has built. You wager it’s one of those times as the distinctive crack-pop of her hunting pistol booms through the forest, and she returns to you spattered in blood.

The townspeople bear no grudge against her for the measures she takes to ensure their safety. While returning to their residences for the night, their gratitude is evident as Abby makes her way home with her head hung low.

You want to ease all her suffering, but the only thing you can do is support her with time and an abundance of love.

Following a scalding hot shower, she requests to face alone—her priority is to make sure you’re both safe before reading her little one a bedtime story.

Caelus fiddles with Abby’s knuckles, bruises already forming on the fragile skin.

“Did you hurt someone, Mama?” they ask.

With a sharp inhale, Abby’s nostrils flare and her eyes glaze over before she continues to turn the page.

Nothing is more devastating than seeing the woman you love overcome with shame.

“Yes, I did,” Abby says.

“It’s bad to hurted people, Mama.”

“You’re right,” she whispers.

Her eyes follow closely as Caelus tugs on her fingers, carefully examining the various scars that adorn them. Every mark on her body represents a chapter of both injury and growth, a living map of her experiences.

“Mommy doesn’t,” Caelus says.

It feels as though they’re verbalizing their thoughts, seeking understanding amid the ever-changing dynamics. Abby could recount dozens of hair-raising stories of similar situations you’ve faced, lives you’ve forever changed, but she simply nods in agreement.

“Why?” they ask.

“Well, you know how Mommy makes the pretty flowers grow and helps the sun make our food, yeah?” Abby says, attempting to make the most complex thing in the world more straightforward. “And how her hands work hard every day to turn the soil into the things we get to eat?”

With a nod, Caelus gazes up at her, their big brown eyes full of wonder.

“And you know how we need to have the scarecrow outside to keep the animals away?”

“Mr. Scarecrow protects the apples!” Caelus says.

Abby’s smile is so incredibly sincere that it tugs at your heartstrings. It brings to mind all the parenting hurdles she faces with her heart on her sleeve.

“Yes, he does,” Abby says as your little one uses their fingertip to trace the cartoon animals in their book. “And if we take Mr. Scarecrow away, the people we love might lose all their apples, and I just can’t stand for that to happen. It would hurt Mama’s heart so badly. Do you understand?”

Nodding, they furrow their brows, grappling with the influx of new information and attempting to make sense of how it relates to their own life.

“Are you Mr. Scarecrow, Mama?”

“Sometimes,” Abby says. “And you and Mommy are my apples. It’s my job to protect you.”

Caelus snaps the book shut in favour of cuddling her.

“Do you get scared?” they ask.

Abby’s gaze shifts to the ceiling, and as she holds your child, you’re reminded of how they still seem so small in her arms.

“All the time,” Abby admits. “Do you?”

“I’m really scared of Doodlebugs!”

“What the heck is a Doodlebug?” she asks.

Perplexed, Abby turns to you for answers.

When you give her a shrug, she knows what you’ve done without saying a word.

#abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby x you #tlou abby #lesbian

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cybrsan · 1 month

Text

Treasure — J.WY [Pt. 7]

SUMMARY: You come to a startling realization.

PAIRING: Waterbender Wooyoung x Non-bender F!Reader

RATING/GENRE: M ; angst, fluff, eventual smut ; ATLA au, enemies to lovers

WORD COUNT: 1.1k

LINKS: Ode To ATEEZ Masterlist | Together in Harmony Masterlist | Cross-posted on AO3 and Wattpad

A/N: I’m sorry this chapter is so short after such a long wait, but I really wanted to make sure I got this part out for you all! It’s going to start getting real intense real soon. There are only a few parts left!

↞ Previous | Masterlist | Next ↠

Your footsteps echo off of the ancient stone floor as you venture inside Pandora, taking in the interior with wide eyes. It stretches out before you like a labyrinth, with towering shelves that are seemingly endless as they disappear into the distance. Your fingers gently graze the worn spines of hundreds of books as you pass by, taking in a few of the titles: “The Legend of the Underwater City,” “The Chronicle of Lost Stars,” and more in languages you don’t even recognize.

Floating balls of yellow light flit around the tops of the shelves, the only things standing between you and complete darkness. One comes to circle around you, as if it is sentient, inspecting you. It reminds you of the fireflies from your hometown, and the memory makes you smile. You reach out a hand, brushing your fingers against it. It sparks orange and sends a jolt of electricity down your arm, making your hair stand on end. You murmur a soft apology, taking the warning for what it is—don’t bother them, and they won’t bother you.

“Y/N, stop!”

So distracted by the small creature, Wooyoung’s shout saves you from bumping directly into a wall of darkness. He grabs your wrist and pulls you back against his chest, walking you backward a few steps.

You get a better look at the darkness from farther away. It appears to be humanoid in shape, hand-like appendages melting into the book it is holding, like candle wax onto a desk or ink spilled on paper. It doesn’t seem to notice either of you, too invested in what it is reading, but it whispers things you cannot comprehend.

“What the hell is that?” you ask, voice shaking.

“No idea,” Wooyoung says. “But let’s avoid them, yeah?”

You nod, your heart still in your throat as you carefully step around the figure. There's something melancholic about the way it sounds, like a song you heard once but can never remember no matter how hard you try.

Wooyoung’s grip slides down from your wrist to your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours as he takes the lead and walks deeper into the library. “Stay close.”

You continue to step lightly, not failing to notice how all of the books are organized impeccably, how no dust at all settles on the covers. You wonder if time has stopped here somehow, or if something is responsible for the library’s upkeep. You hear the others trickle in behind you, their soft murmurs and gasps of awe merging with the whispers of the dark creatures. Wooyoung shouts a warning so that none of the boys unwittingly stumble into one like you almost did.

Finally, you reach what must be the center of Pandora, and the sight takes your breath away. A grand hall lies before you, punctuated by a painted, domed ceiling. Stairs spiral upwards on either side, disappearing into even more book-lined corridors. Marble tables fill the space, each one littered with scrolls, quills, and ink pots.

Toward the back, there is a large statue of an owl, carved with so much detail that it almost looks alive. Its wings are spread out as if it might take flight, and its eyes are made of gemstones that resemble the night sky. Hongjoong stands right in front of it, gazing up at it inquisitively.

Yeosang is the last one to trickle in and, just as he does, the entrance doors slam shut and the eyes on the owl statue begin to glow. Hongjoong takes a few steps back, calling to his fire in preparation. Everyone else follows suit, readying their respective elements and taking defensive stances. You hover a hand over your weapons belt.

The owl surges to life, stone becoming delicate feathers. It flaps its wings once, twice, and the gusts are so strong they send papers flying and almost knock you off your feet.

“Everyone, get back!” Hongjoong yells, a ball of flame ready in his hand.

“Who are you, and what do you seek?” A voice echoes through the hall, deep and ancient. It takes a moment for you to recognize that it belongs to the owl itself; its beak never opens, yet somehow it speaks.

Not sensing any malicious intent, Hongjoong lets his fire dissipate. He hesitates for a moment, uncharacteristically uncertain, before replying, “An hourglass.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and the world seems to crumble around you. An hourglass…?

Untangling your fingers from Wooyoung’s, you disappear into a corner of the room, trying to calm your racing thoughts. He moves to follow you, the instinct to do so seeming as natural as a flower searching for the sun, but you stop him with a small shake of your head. You try to ignore the thrum of pain that shoots through you at his wounded expression.

“We have many of those here.” The owl’s voice reverberates through you. “Along with thousands of other treasures. The library and all of its resources are at your disposal. But beware—if you spend too much time here, you will become like one of the Inklings. An echo of your former selves, lost to the books until the end of time.”

Then, as if it was never alive at all, the owl turns back into solid stone, leaving a final whisper of warning behind. “And you cannot take anything out of here, or else there will be terrible consequences.”

Chaos erupts. Seonghwa rushes over to Hongjoong, a harsh expression on his face as he whispers something under his breath. You hear the others loudly discussing what this means for their journey thus far, whether or not all this time has been wasted. Wooyoung looks over to you again and starts to head in your direction but is stopped by San who pulls him into one of the many ongoing conversations.

With everyone distracted, you slip away into a small corridor. You hurry through rows of shelves and display cases, the sight of them blurring together. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, and the panic you managed to fight down earlier is clawing at your throat.

An hourglass.

The Cromer.

Can they really be looking for the exact same thing as you? For the same thing that can buy your freedom?

“Y/N!”

Wooyoung.

You turn, and the sight of him alone is enough to make the tears finally spill over. He immediately rushes to your side, wrapping you in his arms. He hugs you to his chest, squishing his cheek against the side of your head, and you have never felt more safe. More loved.

Can you bring yourself to betray him? To betray all of them?

NETWORKS: @kflixnet @pirateeznet @cromernet @wonderlandnet @cultofdionysusnet

TAGLIST: @nebulousbookshelf @ad0rechuu @seonghwaddict @sanniesbunnie @wooya1224 @tournesol155 @ja3hwa @pocketjoong-reads @lovandr @yeoyeoland @huachengsbestie01 @baeksofty @deltamoon666 @yessa-vie @mlysalt

#cultofdionysusnet #cromernet #kflixnet #pirateeznet #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung smut #wooyoung angst #wooyoung fluff #jung wooyoung x reader #wooyoung imagines #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #ateez smut #ateez angst #fic.tr

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bleucaesura · 1 month

Text

STOLITZØ - FORTY NINE

Stolas jolted awake. His heart was racing out of his chest. He wiped the tears from his eyes and looked around.

He was still at Blitzø’s bedside. He’d fallen asleep hunched over with his head in his crossed arms. Tears stained the sheets.

What an awful nightmare…

He shuddered a relieved sigh and stretched.

He looked over to check on Blitzø, and that’s when he saw it. Or, rather, HER.

Directly across from him stood what he could only describe as a woman made out of stars. It was as if someone had cookie-cuttered a hole in reality in the shape of a tall, willowy, imp (succubi?) woman, then poured in a beautiful batter of deepest blue-black ether and glittering stars.

The faint starry ghost woman stood on the other side of Blitzø’s hospital bed from Stolas. She was tenderly stroking his horns.

Stolas was frozen mid-stretch, unsure what to do.

“Stolas,” the woman said in a soft lyrical voice. She looked over at him with a warm, friendly smile. “I’m so pleased to finally meet you in person.”

Stolas dropped his arms and sat at attention. “I ah… I’m sorry… But…”

She laughed. Her laugh sounded like beautiful bells that pulled at Stolas’s heart. “But who am I?”

Stolas nodded, suddenly feeling struck by silence.

The woman looked down at Blitzø with loving eyes. She bent and kissed him gently on the forehead, then proceeded to fuss over his pillows and blankets. Fluffing and tucking.

Without looking at Stolas she spoke; “We’ve spoken before. Many times actually.”

Stolas was confused.

“Though ‘spoken’ may be an inaccurate description,” She looked up at the ceiling and tapped a finger to her lips, thinking. She shrugged. “Well. It’s close enough, I suppose. I guess you could call me your ‘liaison to the stars’.”

Stolas was REALLY confused.

She looked over at him, saw his state and laughed her beautiful laugh.

“I also like to drop you little hints here and there,” she gave him a knowing wink.

What could she mean by…

Stolas gasped and subconsciously touched his finger to his forehead; the spot the strange liquid had dropped on him outside the hospital. Before he’d seen the billboard. The one that had sent him running to Asmodeus’s.

The woman chuckled and winked.

“The heavens weep when fated partners are pulled apart, dear Prince.”

Stolas looked at her with bewilderment.

She smiled tenderly and waved an arm above them. Little droplets of the liquid fell from the ceiling down onto Stolas and Blitzø.

Stolas squawked in surprise and made to cover Blitzø before realizing - like the woman - the droplets were of ephemera.

Stolas reached out his left hand to catch a droplet but it just passed right through his hand.

His hand…

What?

She chuckled. “Ah! He finally sees.”

Glowing brightly and tied to his left pinky was a red string.

Stolas looked at it in confusion and bewilderment. And then in awe…

“This…” Stolas looked at the woman. “Is this what I think it is?”

She smiled and gestured at Blitzø. Stolas looked down at him and saw the same string tied to Blitzø’s left pinky.

“Fated.” She winked at him.

Stolas stared blankly at her. He could feel his heart beating out of his chest. His ears were filled with the whooshing sound of blood.

I’m going crazy… Aren’t I?

“Not crazy. Don’t worry. It’ll all make sense when it’s time. But for now, I’m here on a personal matter.” She turned back to Blitzø. “My son.”

Stolas’s jaw dropped.

“Blitzø is your…?”

“My precious son.”

Stolas’s mind was reeling. Then he felt a sudden panic.

“No… oh no… is he…?”

She looked over at him quizzically. Seeing his terror, she smiled kindly and told him “Don’t worry. He will be fine.”

Stolas let out the long breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

“But he needs you.”

Her words cut through Stolas like a knife.

Blitzø doesn’t need me. He’s never needed me. I’m the one who needs him…

Stolas opened his beak only to have her place a finger to it to quiet him. She looked him straight in the eyes.

“He. Needs. You.” She emphasized each word so as to not be misunderstood.

Stolas stared back at her, wide-eyed.

“My son has a beautiful heart. And so much love to give. Love he’d very much like to give to you, Stolas.”

Stolas froze in place and blushed.

“He’s been through a lot. As I know you have too.” She smiled sympathetically. “You knuckleheads are two perfect messes that were made for each other.”

Stolas’s mouth flapped open and closed, trying to form words, not knowing what to say.

She laughed her beautiful laugh. “I’m so grateful you found one another again!”

Again? Did she know…?

“Oh I knew about you, Prince Stolas.” She smiled mischievously. “My bitty boy had some fun things to say about his day with you when he got home.”

“He… He did?” Stolas stammered.

“ ‘The super smart owl prince who was actually, like, really nice, momma’ ” She squished her face and made starry eyes. “ ‘And he thought my idea of a circus business was awesome. And gets to learn about stars and junk and go to the human world.’ ”

Blitzø’s mother made herself laugh so hard she cried.

He… He had fun with me... And talked about me? He thought I was smart? And Nice?!

Blitzø’s mother wiped her tears of laughter away and smiled at Stolas. “He cared for you, even back then.”

Stolas wanted to believe it, but a black cloud settled over his heart and told him he shouldn’t get his hopes up.

Blitzø’s mother heaved a heavy sigh. “Knuckleheads… The both of you.”

She took Stolas’s hands in hers, and looked them over. “Strong, beautiful hands, young Prince.” She looked up at him.

Stolas blushed.

“I want you to use these to hold onto, love and protect my son.”

“Ye… yes mam” Stolas stammered

“No matter how much he may kick and scream and try to push you away,” she clasped his hands together tightly in her own. “Don’t you dare let him go.”

Stolas’s eyes welled with tears.

“Yes, mam.”

She reached over and wiped the tears from his eyes, placed her hands on his face and pulled him close to kiss him on the forehead.

“Please. Call me, Mom.”

*****

#helluva boss #stolitz #fanfic #stolas #blitzø #vivzieverse #vivziepop #vivienne medrano #blitzo #brandon rogers

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bambi-slxt · 19 days

Text

🤍𝐍𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦🤍

𝕔𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕡𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕠𝕝𝕠 𝕩 𝕗𝕖𝕞!𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

word count: 1.9k

genre/tropes: romance, friends to lovers

summary: dating is hard, but maybe what i was looking for was easier than breathing...

warnings: none <3 pure fluff

notes from bambi: i tried a new format, what do we think? no usage of y/n, lowercase intentional, just a cutesy chris fic

busy?

nah wsp

can i come over

yeah fs, thought you said you were busy tn?

i'll explain when i get there 😵‍💫

see u soon kid

-x-

“hey.” i let my bag sink onto the floor and threw myself across chris’s bed.

“bro what, get off me!”

i grinned into his now-rumpled comforter. “make me.”

he snorted and yanked the covers out from under me, sending my legs flying. giggling, i stretched out over the far corner of his mattress. “thanks for letting me come over.”

“no problem. what's goin’ on?” chris had already halfway shut his laptop screen, giving me his attention. the soft pants i had bought him for christmas hung loose around his legs, one of which was pulled up at the knee. in lieu of a shirt, the towel from his shower lay draped over his shoulders. chris’s hair, dark from the water he refused to blow-dry out, stuck to his forehead in a very unflattering pattern. i tried to tell myself that, anyway.

“i was supposed to go on a date tonight,” i answered, staring at the ceiling. covered in those glow in the dark stars and planets people used to buy for their kids, it reminded me of the day chris begged for help putting them up.

“what happened?” he asked quietly. his brows were set in a line measured by confusion and annoyance at the possible explanations.

“i got scared and ghosted him.”

“again?”

“i know.”

“you gotta quit that. these guys don't deserve it.”

“...i know.”

“why'd you get scared?” chris asked, putting his arms behind his head.

“because what if he wants me for sex and nothing else? what if he says he wants a relationship and pays the bill and opens the door for me and takes me home and tells me we don't have to do anything if i'm not comfortable and then of course we do something because i can't fucking help myself and then he got what he wanted and never speaks to me again?”

i realized then, that i was shouting in my head and nothing had come out. chris still looked at me expectantly, his head tilted.

“you look like a puppy,” i told him, grinning.

“what the fuck,” he said, shaking out and shoving back the hair that threatened to encroach upon his vision.

“i got scared because…” i sighed, not entirely sure how to articulate my thoughts in a way he would understand. “Because how would i know if any of it was real?”

“that's why i don't fuck with love, like, that romantic shit,” he offered helpfully.

i glared. “thank you, christopher.”

“using my full legal name is insane.”

“you deserved it.”

“whatever bro.” chris paused. “i feel like there's something else.”

“how do you mean?”

“something else bothering you.”

“it probably has something to do with my self-confidence,” i said. “sometimes i think i deserve…everything, and sometimes i think the opposite.”

chris’s chest rose and fell with a sigh. this wasn't the first time we’d discussed the matter.

i looked over at him and his eyes met mine. i did this occasionally, the staring. it was a way to connect without speaking, which was often difficult around him. chris broke first, after a few short but comforting seconds, dipping his head to the side and gesturing me over to sit next to him. as i scooted my way over, he opened up his laptop again.

“new merch?” i asked.

“yeah,” he murmured. “you wanna help design it?”

i took the device from him, amid quiet protests of death and torture, and began to very gently give my two cents.

“no one likes yellow chris. don't make any more yellow stuff ever again in your life.”

“I LIKE YELLOW??”

“too bad.”

we compromised on black with yellow accented font. he's such a baby sometimes.

-x-

i stayed for hours. chris let me make a shirt design, we put a show on in the background, and when i commandeered his laptop to play music, he got up to clean his room.

a few clothes on the floor does not a mess make, but chris hated things being out of place. something as small as a sock left unattended would poke the back of his brain all day.

sometimes he would mutter things under his breath, talking to himself or singing.

“an i got all the drugs in the world that you need…”

“hold this.” (he tossed a shirt at me)

holding up a pair of sweats, chris asked, “...clean?” i shook my head. “matt’s room,” he decided, and took off up the stairs.

“you hungry?” he asked when he came back, hair disheveled.

i wrinkled my nose. “not for fast food.”

“you wanna make something?”

“god yes.”

chris laughed and pulled me off the bed. “let's go make something.”

-x-

we went up the stairs and upon hitting the landing, saw nick and madi pretzeled up together on the couch. “oh hey,” nick said, pausing whatever was on the tv. “didn't know you were here.”

“i thought you had a date,” madi said around a yawn.

chris seemed to sense the situation, or maybe he was just hungry, but whatever the case, he jumped in. “we're makin’ dinner,” he announced with a grin.

“y’all still have pasta right?” i asked, making a beeline for the pantry and rifling through the shelves.

matt emerged from his cave, scrubbing his face with the back of his hands. “we should,” he grumbled, annoyed at the lack of sleep he was currently indulging in.

“thank you. where.”

he nudged me over and produced a bag of angel hair noodles out of nowhere. “right in front of your face.”

“matthew…i'm gonna kill you,” i replied with zero emotion.

he raised his eyebrows. “alright buddy. you makin’ enough for everybody?”

“don't see why not.” i turned my head and waved chris over. “we have water to boil.”

he saluted me and made his way into the kitchen, passing matt (making his way decidedly out of the kitchen).

“is the pot clean?”

“i think so.”

“can you get it?”

“yeah. you want the salt while i'm over here?”

“yes please.”

“tap water or filter water?”

i looked at him for a long moment.

“i'm gonna get the filtered,” he said, snickering.

shaking my head with a smile, i let the stove heat up and stepped back so he could pour the water in. the muscle in his forearm tensed, offsetting the weight of the heavy filter. matt had turned the softer lights on, so gentle shadows lay over chris like a threadbare blanket.

i stepped over and let my head rest on the side of his shoulder. his shirt smelled like him, he smelled like his bath soap and his cologne and the detergent matt used on his sheets, and his hair was dry and fluffy now because he hadn't brushed it and i could probably stay there forever-

“you okay?” he murmured.

“yeah.” backing off again, i slipped a smile on my face. “all good.”

“i think…it should be good,” chris said, scrunching his nose, fully concentrated on the precise water measurement.

i cut my eyes at him with mock concern. “it’s never that serious chris.”

“what if my pasta’s water content is important to me?”

“is it?” i put my hand on my hip, desperately fighting the smile that threatened to take over my features.

“...no. but what if it was?”

“i can't handle you anymore. when it boils will you put the noodles in?”

“noods,” he said in reply, as if that was in any way helpful or related.

“who's nudes?” Madi shot up from the couch, dark hair a mess. “your nudes??”

“no, not me, i-”

Nick’s face contorted in disgust. “someone sent you nudes?”

“no no, it’s-”

“did you ask for them?” matt asked. having been seated closest to the kitchen and therefore fully aware of the context, he was just instigating. again.

i glared at the back of his head. “you're stupid.”

��that's not a no.” i could feel his shit-eating grin.

“who’s naked?” nick wailed, halfway off the couch.

“nobody! chris just-”

“so you didn't get nudes,” madi asked tentatively, still sleepy.

i turned back to chris. “are you gonna help me at all?”

“who, me?”

rolling my eyes, i addressed the living room again. “listen, chris just shortened the word noodle, THAT’S IT.”

"oh. why didn't you just say that?" nick snarked.

madi had already burrowed into him for another nap. nick let their show play on, detangling her hair absentmindedly. i shook my head and smiled.

-x-

“i'm gonna go ahead and put the noodles in,” chris said, already breaking them.

“thanks. you wanna make sauce or use the stuff in the pantry?”

“ugh, what's in the pantry,” he said, “don't feel like making anything that intense.”

“mkay.” i pulled the door open and began to hunt. the sounds of the house washed over me - RuPaul’s Drag Race from the living room, chris stirring in the cracking noodles, and matt typing away on his laptop. i smiled again. this house, these people, their lives - it put me at ease.

“‘scuse me…” chris said from behind me. i jumped as he drew out his words and stretched his hand around my shoulders to pull a spice off the rack. he felt me startle, he must have, because chris looked down at me with curiosity. “i scare ya?”

“only a little bit,” i said, lying through my teeth. he put his arms around me and enclosed me in a hug. “i'm glad you're here.”

my hands took hold of the forearms crossing my chest and i leaned back into him. “thanks.”

i felt his lips against my neck, pulling into a smile. “i'm always happy when you're here.”

the sugar-sweetness made my teeth ache, and i leaned forward. He let go easily, just like he did everything else in life, and spiced the noodly water on the stove with gusto, letting dark flecks fall to the floor.

i love you.

he looked a mess with his hair unbrushed and his brows unkempt and his smile unguarded.

i love you.

chris, who always handled my heart with care.

i love you.

how many ways could he tell me he loved me before i believed him?

here goes nothing.

“chris?”

or perhaps everything.

“yes ma'am.”

JESUS FUCKING-

my ribs cracked, splintering bone shards into my thundering heart. i reached for his chin, letting my fingers fall atop his skin and ever so slightly pulling him toward me. when his eyes met mine i couldn't wait any longer. “do you love me?”

chris didn't miss a beat. “of course i do.” he pressed his cheek into my hand, his head tilted adorably.

“no i…i mean like. for real.”

“come here.” he pulled me into a hug and i pressed my nose against his chest. “i've never been…afraid of it. love. with you.”

well that's good.

“of course i love you,” he said.

“...that's cool.”

a pause.

“really cool, in fact,” i continued. fucking tears. ruining my moment.

“are you crying?”

“no.”

“liar.”

“yeah.”

“sad crying?”

“happy.”

“that's good.”

“mhm.”

“you want me to let go?” his arms didn't budge from me.

“don't you dare.”

“yes ma'am.”

“you're burning the pasta,” matt huffed. we jumped apart, faces tomato red.

“yeah yeah you're so cute, i'm gonna be ill, puke gag retch, whatever,” he said, turning off the heat and moving the bubbling pot. “i'm hungry.”

nick and madi sat agape on the couch.

chris kissed my forehead, still grinning like a maniac. “wanna eat?”

i smiled. what is this, an epidemic? “yeah.”

“we can talk about it later okay?”

i smiled. “okay.”

-x-

ps: the noodles were delicious.

request to be on the taglist here

thank you for reading!

- bambi <3

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff #christopher sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fanfic fluff #christopher sturniolo fanfic fluff #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo

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wasabidottie · 4 months

Note

hey!!! I love your writing so much! I was wondering if you could do a fic where the reader wanderings into schlatts bedroom, (maybe shes like staying over to film or smth, but they aren't in a relationship yet) and climbs into bed with him. IDK fill in the blanks ig?!? sorry if this is annoying

Tipsy (jschlatt)

a/n: omg anon you are so sweet <33 tysm <3 i promise this isnt annoying at all! i go absolutely FERRAL for requests. hope you like this one :o

The Texas night enveloped the room in a serene calmness as you finished up your tipsy livestream, the remnants of laughter and casual conversations lingering in the air. Schlatt's house was a cozy sanctuary, the kind of place where you felt at ease, even in your slightly inebriated state.

After concluding your stream, you found yourself feeling a bit disoriented, the late hour and the mild alcohol buzz making navigation through the unfamiliar halls a tad challenging. You wandered aimlessly, your senses slightly dulled, until you found yourself outside Schlatt's bedroom.

In your semi-drunken haze, a sense of familiarity washed over you, and without much thought, you gently pushed open the door. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of a bedside lamp, casting a warm hue over the space. Schlatt lay sprawled on the bed, fast asleep.

A faint smile danced across your lips as you made your way over to his side, your thoughts muddled but your instincts telling you that this was the right thing to do. You slipped under the covers beside him, the warmth of the bed inviting.

Schlatt stirred at the movement, roused from his slumber by your unexpected presence. He blinked groggily, trying to make sense of the situation. You nestled closer to him, seeking comfort in your semi-conscious state. The soft, innocent gesture caught him off guard, leaving him slightly bewildered.

He hesitated, unsure of what to do. Your breathing evened out as you quickly drifted off to sleep, snuggling closer to him. Schlatt's heart fluttered inexplicably, a warmth spreading through him at the closeness, even though he'd never admit it.

Part of him wanted to push you away, to remind you that you were in his bed, but the other part—the part he buried deep down—enjoyed having you there. He grappled with conflicting thoughts, but in the end, he chose not to disturb your slumber.

In a bid to rationalize the situation, Schlatt lightly draped an arm around you, telling himself it was merely to get more comfortable. The touch sent a jolt through him, a sensation he couldn't quite comprehend. He shifted slightly, allowing you to cuddle closer, a flush creeping up his cheeks.

He laid there, staring at the ceiling, trying to convince himself that this was purely a matter of convenience. But deep down, in the solitude of the night, he felt a warmth—an inexplicable happiness that he couldn't quite shake off.

And so, in the quiet of the Texas night, beneath the canopy of stars, you slept soundly, unaware of the subtle fluttering in Schlatt's heart, as he, too, found a sense of unusual contentment in the unexpected closeness.

#jschlatt x reader #schlatt x reader #chuckle sammy #jschlatt #schlatt #jschlatt x you #chuckle sandwich x reader #schlatt x you

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soullessmocha · 4 months

Text

heaven.

{ karlach x gn!tav }

rating: everyone

warnings: light spoilers, mild gore, death, angst

word count: 1499

like with most of my writing i rarely re-read and go over it. i am mediocre writer with heavy bg3 brain rot after finishing my first playthrough of the game.

Your body felt cold yet hot at the same time as you felt life drain out of you. You stare blankly at the ceiling of the foyer in the House of Hope, a demonic spike going through your chest. “You dare to mess with me, steal my from me! Look how piteous thing you are. Let this remind your friends- AH!” Raphael hisses in your ear, his new form causing nothing but the smell of flint and death before he was slain. You barely realize how far your own body was flung until you hit the last soul tower, it crumbles over you as your body splatters on the ground. The horrific roars coming from the devil himself only deafen your ears more. You can’t hear anything. Just the ringing from your head and the screams. You couldn’t tell if it was your scream or your adventurous friends. Maybe even your lovers.

The hot weight of the stone was being ripped off of you. It’s a warm hand that turns your body over. “Oh gods, no, no, no, no…” The warm, honey-like, voice soothes through the ringing. You were saying the same thing as your body began to get so increasingly cold that even turning your joints brought splintering pain. “Hope, please! Help!” Wyll cries out but Hope can only stand over you with a distant look on her face. Karlach ripped off your armor to see where the damage was starting, “You’re not dying here soldier!” Her voice cracks, it makes your blood-stained lips curl slightly. Your bare hand grasps her bicep, “Karlach… No,” you choke out. She doesn’t listen to you.

With your body being moved you let out a blood-piercing scream that even the tadpole in your head couldn’t stand as it vibrated in your cranium in reaction. It was losing its life source. You. Karlach settles you on the sigil glowing in the foyer marble flooring. It was so cold for a place that was burning in one of the levels of Hell. The shiver sent down your spine only made a reaction in your body to spasm, cough up more congealed blood that was threatening its way through your system. Everything was shutting down on you. You couldn’t feel your lower half anymore.

“We’re going to get you to Shadowheart-” Karlach choked out, her tears being burnt down her cheeks. Something she hasn’t been able to do in gods knows how many centuries. She was supposed to be the first one to go with her infernal engine only being a ticking time bomb. Not you. Not her deepest of love. Not her very own heart. She covers the puncture wound with her own hands, trying to stop the blood from seeping through anymore. She could only wince at your whimper from the pressure.

“Please, this isn’t how it’s supposed to go!” Karlach begs you, her forehead resting on yours. The warmth comforted you as everything around started to get dark and fuzzy. Yet Karlach was the only thing shining bright for you. In this moment her words of confession roamed in your head. It just wasn’t meant in the stars for the two of you but to go out with a bang was all she needed.

You weakly feel your hand raise to her cheek, your thumb gently tracing over her features to memorize them one last time, “Out with a bang, right?” You couldn’t even recognize your voice, your hand slid from her cheek to her soft hair, feeling the locks one last time. Death was knocking on your door but you were fighting every second to be with your love. “You're going to go to Avernus,” you hiccup to get air into your lungs, “fix that damned engine of yours and make that bastard pay for what he’s done.” Your body spasms again as the sickly iron-tasting crimson splatters from your throat. “Don’t bring me back… Don’t ask Withers. You save the city. Save yourself. Then come and get me…” Your lower lip trembles as your world starts to crumble around Karlach her glow shining brighter as her sobs become more violent. She was shaking her head at your request. She didn’t even want to think about going through this alone, without her solider by her side. It couldn’t be done. Not without you by her side.

“Please, don’t go.” Karlach whimpers against your cheek while she peppers warm kisses all over your cold skin, burying her face in the crook of your neck. “I can’t do this without you!” Her voice increases in volume and the flames dancing on her burgundy skin glow blue. All you can do is hold her close while her body curls around yours, rubbing her back with numb arms. “I love you,” you whisper in her ear but before you were able to place one last kiss on her beautiful face you slipped away. Your soul knew deep down that everywhere would be hell without Karlach by your side in whatever afterlife there was as it dissipated away.

Her back felt empty as your strength faded. Her body could nearly melt you away from how cold you were in her arms. “Tav?” she whispers noticing your arms fall by her side, caught on her armor. “Tav, wake up!” She lifted herself from your body, hovering to look you over. The sight horrified her. No longer did your eyes glimmer with life, they were dull. Lifeless. Your skin is pale and clammy from the damned heat of hell. Karlach gently cupped your cheek, her long nails gingerly brushing hair from your expressionless features. Your eyes were staring at the damning mural in the foyer ceiling. Karlach gently closed your eyes. Her warm lips pressed on each eyelid. Strong arms curl under your body to bring you close.

She stood shakingly, weak in every joint as a part of her had fled this realm. Tears flowed down her cheeks yet she was stoic. Unable to rest until your body was at peace. “I love you, **ph myirz.”

You wake up in a familiar stone enclosure. Withers stood over your body watching you closely to make sure everything went right to his ancient doings. All you could do was blink up at the forgotten god. “Breatheth. Thee wilt beest did confuse and has't many questions. Howev'r, holdeth onto those folk and liveth again f'r tonight. Th're is a celebration happening and many art waiting to seeth thee.” His dried hands help you sit up and bring your feet over the stone bed.

Withers only gives you a nod towards the archway where you can hear music playing and chatter dancing in the air. You take in recognition of your own hands first, this is your body still. Nothing changed. Until you notice how quiet your mind is. Slipping off of the stone bed you run a hand through your hair, gripping the roots to set the reality that there is no more tadpole squirming in your brain.

As you walk across the tree bark others turn silent and watch you emerge from the shrubbery. Eyes all new and foreign greet you with a softness only few could recognize as relief, their mourning was gone. Yet your eyes only searched for one flaming person. Then you see her around the bend of the stone. Karlach stood over the fire, her arms crossed as anxiety rippled over her features. Gold glowing eyes pierced into the bonfire as if she was silently praying to whatever god would listen to bring you back. Yet the sharp gaze stopped when she noticed you, standing afar. She could smell you again.

The lost expression on your features made her grin fasten wider. Both of your bodies slammed into one another as you ran towards each other. This was your Karlach, not some twisted hell. It was her. The same scent of vanilla and ember came off of her heated skin. Tears blurred your vision, you buried your face in her neck. “You did it.” You whisper against her skin. Karlach only rocks the both of you. It seemed as if the world around the two of you didn’t matter anymore. “I did it,” she repeats after you before gently pulling you back to get a good look over you.

You could feel your very own heat rush to your face as her golden orbs take in your features. You hadn’t known how long it had been since she’d last laid eyes on you but from the looks of it. Too long. “Are you just going to keep staring or kiss me Karlach?” you quipped at her which broke her concentration. Her soft solemn smile turned into a cheeky grin as her hand landed just above your lower back and pulled you close, “You don’t have to ask me twice soldier.”

With her lips planted on yours and the intoxicating smell of her scent, you knew this was heaven. She was your heaven.

** ph myriz = my heart (infernal)

#i love karlach #karlach x tav #karlach x reader #karlach bg3 #karlach blurb #soulless writes #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #crying in the club

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lanitalay · 6 months

Text

Before I Say Goodnight

Chapter 2

a/n: heyyy new chapter wooo.

Other chapters

"Come on, I'll show you to one of the spare rooms" Vassa says, gently guiding you up the stairs and into a cozy looking room. It was lit by a few soft lamps glowing from the ceiling. Tonight was a new moon and as you looked out the window you could only distinguish the black mass that was the forest and the night sky littered with stars that seemed to go on for forever. The skies back home never looked like this. The stars seemed to dance. What a joke. "Oh, you'll probably want to change into something more comfortable and... clean" you come out of your trance and look down at the clothes that were covered in mud, grass and tears. "I'll go fetch something from my rooms" you nod and look around, this doesn't feel real, the bed is made with simple gray linen sheets and what feels like a feather pillow. Nice. There is a dresser in the wall opposite the bed and you see yourself in the mirror that's hanging from the wall. Jesus. Your eyes are almost swollen shut, the lump on your forehead is a bright red color, your hair looks like you were sucked up and spit out by a tornado. But your clothes... the light jacket you wore was ripped at the sleeve of your right arm and the leggings were covered in crusted up dirt. Your boots had held up, the only sign of wear was the sole that was caked in mud. You look to where you had stepped and see the trail of dirt left behind in your wake. Oh god. You feel too gross to go anywhere near the bed so you entertain yourself by looking through the drawers. They are all empty. How boring. "Here we are, I got you this tunic for tonight and you can wear this dress tomorrow, if you want to bathe I'll have Lucien bring up some water" she places the neat stack of clothes on the bed and waits for your answer. "I should take a bath before bed, I feel gross" you try to tame your hair but it looks just messy. "Alright, I'll see you tomorrow" she smiled lightly and pats your shoulder goodbye. A few moments later Lucien shows up with the buckets and goes to the bathing room "Everything you need is here, soap, towels..." he looks at your hair "hairbrush". You nod "Thank you". "Tomorrow after breakfast we'll go to the clearing, try to sleep" you nod and he closes the door as he leaves. Deep breaths, deep breaths. If a portal was open in my world, then it should be open here too. Tomorrow this will all be like a fever dream. You proceed to bathe and scrub every inch of your body, and wash and wash your hair until the water finally comes out clean. This is better. You put the tunic on and brush and braid your hair. Pull the sheets back and step into the bed. Oh this is nice. Maybe it's the exhaustion but this is the most comfortable bed you've been in. Tomorrow I'll be home. Tomorrow I'll be home. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. You chant the words like a prayer as sleep envelops you.

The following morning you wake to a sun beam in your face and sounds of chattering from down the stairs. Oh god. This was real. You had half hoped and half prayed that yesterday was just a bad dream. Ok, today I'll find the portal and go home, simple. Easy. Your stomach grumbles and you try to remember the last meal you had. It was a cold sandwich on your hike. You had a bunch of snacks in your bag... Where the hell is my bag? You try to remember the last time you saw it and can't remember losing it. It's not like you can drop a backpack. Maybe Lucien has it. You quickly freshen up and change into the dress Vassa had given you. It was rather simple, the fabric was thick and sturdy and it was a bit big on you. I look like my great-grandmother. It was clean and comfortable though. You make your way downstairs and follow the voices to the kitchen. Jurian and Lucien stop their conversation as they see you entering. "Good morning, realm traveler" Jurian says with a giddiness that would be contagious had you not just had your entire world thrown up in flames. "Good morning" you reply with a slight smile. "Eat up, we have to leave soon" Lucien says as he hands you a plate of warm bread and cheese. You thank him and dig in, then pause, "Lucien, when you found me did I have my backpack on?" he thought for a moment "Backpack?" "Yeah, like a bag strapped to my back" you look expectantly "Oh yes, but I believe it stayed by the fire, we left in a hurry". You frown remembering the way he took off running "Was something out there last night, is that why you ran?" he shifts on his feet "Yes, there was a creature there that meant you harm, I apologize grabbing you like that. As for your bag, we are going in the same direction today, we can see if it is still there" you said a little "Yes please, I have a few things there that I can't lose". Namely my passport. "I understand," Lucien says. "Is there any coffee here?" they look at you then at each other and Jurian says "Coffee?" no way there's no coffee here. "Yeah, coffee. Caffeine?" a pause "We have tea". Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry. "Alright".

The ride to the clearing was a bit uncomfortable as you had to ride with Jurian. It's not that he was making it uncomfortable but the saddle had been made for one person and because of the dress you had to ride facing sideways. "We're coming up on the fire, keep a lookout for the bag" you scour the whole forest floor and then you spot it. Your bright red bag and point excitedly "There it is!" Jurian stops the horse and helps you off. You pick it up and check that everything is still inside. My phone. Would it even work here? "Let's go, we have to get to the clearing before the others do" Lucien says in an impatient tone . Others?

It’s about an hour until you make it to the clearing. The three of you dismount the horses and Jurian ties their reins to a nearby tree. You look around at the sheer nothingness of the space. It looks as if someone lit a perfect circle on fire in the middle of this forest. The clearing doesn’t even have any grass, it’s just plain dirt. No rocks, no roots, no branches. Perfectly leveled dirt. Lucien and Jurian are looking around as well. From the looks on their faces they seem unimpressed. You are too, the boulders and rocks made the circle way more intimidating than this. A flapping sound followed by boots on dirt startles you. You look up to see an extremely tall man with large black wings. “The Band of Exiles in all its glory” the stranger says with a smirk. Lucien walks towards him “Hello, Cassian. Always nice to see you, I thought Rhysand would make an appearance.” Cassian looks at you “They are rather busy today but since you made this sound urgent he sent me. Sorry to disappoint”. Lucien nods, “Did he fill you in on the situation?” you shift under his gaze and look anywhere but him as he speaks “Yes, something about a portal to this realm and a mortal intruder, I’m guessing that’s her?” he points, Lucien nods and continues “She said she just stepped through it and was brought here, to this clearing. I don’t know much about other realms but the fact that it was left unguarded for anyone to slip through seems like a disaster waiting to happen” you kick nothing and wrap your arms around yourself trying to comfort yourself. “And what’s your name?” “y/n”, your voice comes out defeated There's nothing here. “Well Lucien, I hate to agree with you but if what you’re saying is true then I think that is something to worry about. Is there anything else I should know?” Jurian replies “Now you know as much as we do, y/n is just as lost. She says magic doesn’t exist in her world and that what happened should be impossible” Cassian nods “and you believe her?” Inhale and say as calmly as you can “Why would I lie? I have nothing in this world and I’m at the mercy of strangers. Be serious.” There’s nothing here. There’s no way back. Tears begin to well up and you turn around and walk towards the edge of the clearing. Cassian’s face drops and he turns to Lucien again “I apologize, that was insensitive. I’ll bring all of this to Rhys and Feyre and let you know what they say. Any updates on Koschei?” “No” Jurian answers curtly. Cassian nods and without any preamble he takes to the skies.

Cassian lands in the River House a few hours later and walks into Rhys’ study. “I think we have a problem” he says as he takes the chair in front of Rhysand’s massive desk. “Where is the problem?” his brother responds as he signs some paperwork. “Well, I’m not sure, but that’s part of it. The portal Lucien was talking about seems to be closed from our side but open and unguarded on the other. There was no trace of any magic where the mortal girl showed up. Even her, she doesn't feel like she’s from this realm. She looks like any other mortal but her scent is… strange” Rhysand looks up from his desk and asks “Can you show me?” Cassian nods. “You're right, I didn’t get the sense of any magic. You didn’t speak to the girl?” Cassian shakes his head “No, she looked like she had a rough night and I kind of upset her”. Rhysand rolls his eyes, “Bring her here tomorrow, I’d like to see what she saw in her realm before arriving here. Tell Az, to be here for the meeting” Cassian stands at the dismissal. “Sure thing, brother”.

The ride back to the manor was quiet. There was nothing there. There’s no way back. You feel numb, unwilling to accept the possibility that you might not be able to return. Lucien and Jurian sense this and let you be. When you arrive you walk to your room and collapse in bed. It’s dark out by the time Vassa knocks on your door. “Y/n, you should eat something” There’s no point. She opens the door and you see she brought you a bowl of stew. You sit up and sniffle, the tears have been flowing on and off for the last few hours. She smiles at you softly and places the bowl in your hands. “The boys filled me in on what happened. I know this must be very scary but I promise we will do whatever we can to help. You know, we call ourselves the exiles because each of us has been rejected by our own. We can’t return to our homes but along the way we found each other and I’m very happy we did. I say all this because I don’t want you to feel like you’re intruding. This is the perfect place for someone with your… situation. Anyways, Lucien heard back from Rhysand-” you interrupt “Who’s Rhysand? I heard his name a few times today” she continues “He’s the High Lord of the Night Court, a very powerful male, who has a lot of knowledge and resources. He’d like to speak with you tomorrow if that’s ok” you nod. Maybe he knows how to send me back.

“Great, Cassian will pick you up in the morning”.

#acotar fanart #acowar #acosf #acomaf #acofas #acofaf #acotar fanfiction #cassian #azriel shadowsinger #gwyneth berdara #rhysand #feyre archeron #nesta archeron #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #jurian acotar #vassa acotar #queen vassa #lucien

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