#only long meandering strolls of thought
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One thing I love about Crowley --never stated, but consistently shown-- is that he is, at heart, an engineer.
I have a few different things to say about that. Let's unpack them.
As the Unnamed Angel, we see his designs for the Pillars of Creation are millions of pages long, comprised of cramped text, footnotes, diagrams, schematics, etc. It's very...Renaissance polymath, in the way it implies a particular intersection of artist and inventor.
Also: in the naked romanticism with which he views his stars.
We already knew he made stars, but in s2 we learn that he did NOT sculpt each of them by hand. He designed a nebula ("a star factory," he says) that will form several thousand young stars and proto-planets, and all --aside from getting the 'factory' running-- without him lifting a finger. We also learn that these young stars and proto-planets stand in contrast to those made by other angels, which are going to come 'pre-aged.'
...I'm reminded of Hastur and Ligur's approach to temptations. Damning one human soul at a time, devoting singular attention to it over the course of years or decades, and how that stands in contrast to Crowley's reliance on, quote, 'knock-on effects.'
Ligur: It's not exactly...craftsmanship.
Crowley: Head office don't seem to mind. They love me down there.
Hm.
I'm also reminded of the M25.
The M25 may not be as grand as a nebula (sentences you only say in GOmens fandom...), but LIKE his nebula it's an intricate, self-sustaining engine that does Crowley's work for him, many times over. Again.
That's some pretty neat characterization --and so is the indication towards Crowley's disinterest in victimizing anyone tempting individual people. It takes a considerable amount of planning and effort (and creeping about in wellies), but in accordance with his design the M25 generates a constant stream of low-grade evil on a gigantic scale.
Cumulatively gigantic, that is. Individually? Negligible.
But no other demon understands human nature well enough to parse that one million ticked-off motorists are not, in any meaningful way, actually equivalent to one dictator, or one mass-murderer, or even one little influential regressive. That's the trick of it. Crowley gets Hell's approval (which he NEEDS to survive, and to maintain the degree of freedom he's eked out for himself), and at the same time ensures that any actual ~Evil Influence~ is spread nice and thin.
It's some clever machinery. And he knows it, too:
The Unnamed Angel and Crowley are both proud of their ideas.
(musings on professional pride, Leonardo da Vinci, the crank handle, and 'the point to which Crowley loves Aziraphale' under the cut)
In the 1970's Crowley gives a presentation on the M25, projector and all, to a room full of increasingly impatient demons. Maybe the presentation was work-ordered; the 'can I hear a WAHOO?' definitely wasn't.
Before the Beginning, the Unnamed Angel can barely contain his excitement about his nebula. Aziraphale manages a baffled-but-polite, "....That's nice... :)"
11 years ago, Hastur and Ligur want to 'tell the deeds of the day,' and Crowley smiles to himself because (according to the script-book) he knows he has 'the best one.'
(Naturally, his 'deed' has nothing to do with tempting anybody, and everything to do with setting up a human-powered Rube-Goldberg machine of petty annoyance. Oodles of 'Evil' generated; very little harm done.)
Hastur and Ligur don't get it, of course. That's also consistent.
Nobody ever knows what the hell he's talking about.
It didn't make it on-screen, but, in both the novel AND the script-book, Crowley was friends with Leonardo da Vinci. The quintessential Renaissance polymath. That's where he got his drawing of the Mona Lisa --they're getting very drunk together, and Crowley picks up the 'most beautiful' of the preliminary sketches. He wants to buy it. Leonardo agrees almost off-the-cuff, very casual, because they're friends, and because he has bigger fish to fry than haggling over a doodle:
He goes, "Now, explain this helicopter thingie again, will you?" Because he's an engineer, too.
(It is 1519 at the latest, in this scene. Why the FUCK would Crowley know about helicopters, and be able to explain them, comprehensively, to Leonardo da Vinci?
...Well. I choose to believe he got bored one day and worked it out. Look, if you know how to build a nebula, you can probably handle aerodynamics. And anyway, I think it's telling that this is his idea of shooting the shit. 'A drunken mind speaks a sober heart,' and all. He probably babbled about Aziraphale long enough to make poor Leo sick)
Apart from Aziraphale, Leonardo da Vinci is the only person Crowley has any keepsakes or mementos of.
Think about that, though. Aziraphale's bookshop is bursting with letters, paintings, busts, and personalized signatures memorializing all the humans he's known and befriended over 6000 years (indeed: Aziraphale has living human friends up and down Whickber Street. He's part of a community).
Crowley doesn't have any of that. It's just the stone albatross from the Church (for pining), the infamous gay sex statue (for spicy pining), the houseplants (for roleplaying his deepest trauma over and over, as one does), and this one piece of artwork, inscribed, "To my friend Anthony from your friend Leo da V."
To me, at least, that suggests a level of attachment that seems to be rare for Crowley.
...Maybe he liked having someone to talk shop with? Someone who was interested? Someone engaged enough to ask questions when they didn't immediately understand?
...Anyway.
There's also the matter of the crank handle.
This thing:
This is one of the subtler changes from the book. In the book, Crowley knows Satan is coming and, desperate, arms himself with a tire iron. It's the best he can do. He's not Aziraphale; he wasn't made to wield a flaming sword.
The show, IMO, improves on this considerably. Now he, like Aziraphale, gets to face annihilation with what he was made for in his hand. And it's not a weapon, not even an improvised one like the tire iron.
He made stars with it.
[both gifs by @fuckyeahgoodomens]
If you Google 'crank handle,' you'll get variations on this:
Crank handles have been around for centuries. Consisting of a mechanical arm that's connected to a perpendicular rotating shaft, they are designed to convert circular motion into rotary or reciprocating motion.
Which is to say they're one of the 'simple machines,' like a lever or a pulley; the bread and butter of engineering. You'll also get a list of uses for a crank handle, archaic and modern. Among them: cranking up the engine of an old-fashioned car... say, a 1933 Bentley. That's what Crowley has been using his for, lately. But he's had it since he was an angel and he's still, it seems, very capable of it's angelic applications.
Stopping time. For instance.
(This is conjecture on my part, but, I like to imagine that Crowley has the ability to stop time for the same reason I can --and should-- unplug my computer before I perform maintenance on it. Time and Space are a matched set, after all, and in his designs in particular, one feeds into the other.)
I know everyone has already said this, but: I REALLY LIKE that when he needs to channel the heights of his power, he does so not with a weapon but with a tool. Practically with a little handheld metaphor for ingenuity. One from long-lost days when he made beautiful things.
(And he loved it. Still loves it --he incorporated that metaphor into the Bentley, didn't he?)
Let Aziraphale rock up to the apocalypse with a weapon: he has his own compelling thematic reasons to do exactly that. Crowley's story is different, and fighting isn't the only way to express defiance. And if you've been condemned as a demon and assumed to be destructive by your very nature, what better way than this?
He made stars. They didn't manage to take that from him.
Neither Crowley nor Aziraphale are fighters, really --they have no intention of fighting in any war. They'll annoy everyone until there's no war to fight in, for a start. But between the two, if one must be, then that one is Aziraphale. Principality of the Earth, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, Wielder of the Flaming Sword... all that stuff. Even if he'd prefer not to, it's very clear that Aziraphale can rise to the occasion, if he must.
Crowley was never that kind of angel. He wasn't a Principality. He doesn't have a sword.
...And yet.
It's Crowley who protects. He's the one who paces, who stands guard, who circles Aziraphale and glares out at the world, just daring anyone else to come near.
In light of everything else I've said here, I think that's interesting.
Obviously part of it is that Aziraphale enjoys it and, you know, good for him. He's living his best life, no doubt no doubt no doubt. But what about Crowley? What's driving that behavior, really?
Have you heard the phrase, 'loved to the point of invention'? Well, what if 'the point of invention' was where you started? What if where you end up involves glaring out at the world, just daring anyone else to come near? What is that, in relation to the bright-eyed thing you used to be?
What do we name the point to which Crowley loves Aziraphale?
...Thinking about how an excitable angel with three million pages of star design he wants to tell you all about...becomes a guard dog. Is all.
#good omens#ineffable husbands#aziracrow#Crowley#Aziraphale#good omens 2#good omens meta#unfortunately I do not have trains of thought#only long meandering strolls of thought#sorry about it#anyway tl;dr Crowley is a nerd#also I have a strange emotional attachment to the idea of 1500's Crowley...#...facedown in a pile of Mona Lisa sketches; drunkenly info-dumping about Aziraphale#and Da Vinci is just like. 'Ahhhh mio amico Antonio. You fucking simp.'
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Blooms Of Serenity ~ BC
WORD COUNT: 1.7K
GENRE: comfort fic, chan being very sweet and comforting toward a reader who has had a hard time with their anxiety/panic attacks lately, cute boyfriend chan, NON IDOLVERSE, established relationships
PAIRING: Chan x Fem!Reader
⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - February 2024
⤜MASTERLIST
Sliding out of the seat carefully you held your hand out to Chan who was still refusing to let you take off the blindfold he'd put on you about an hour ago. Part of you was a little sad he'd refused to let you see, you loved going on night drives with Chan since you'd spend all of your time looking up at the stars that were scattered across the sky it was one of your favourite things to do.
"Are you going to pout all night?" Chan whispers in your ear, his breath catching on your skin making your whole body shiver.
"No, but I'll stop sooner if you let me see," You giggle trying to tempt him but it wasn't going to, Chan had been working on this surprise all week long and he wasn't going to ruin it now.
In the heart of a packed city, where life echoed everywhere and it didn't matter how far you went you'd still hear the sounds of car horns or people yelling there existed a small haven of tranquillity known as the Serenity Garden. After extensive googling, Chan had managed to find the little slice of heaven for you.
Its charm lay not only in its lush greenery and vibrant blooms of flowers but also in its ability to soothe troubled souls. And it was here that Chan decided to bring you.
The gardens were said to be completely silent, breaking away from the hustle and bustle of life which was exactly what you needed right now.
As Chan stepped into the garden, the air seemed to change, becoming lighter, and more fragrant and turned his attention to you, his hands shakily taking off the blindfold as he studied your reactions. As soon as the blindfold was off and your eyes had adjusted to the light your once tense shoulders relaxed slightly as you took in the sight of the colourful flowers swaying gently in the breeze. The place looked like something straight out of a fantasy romance book.
"Chan...Where did you even find this?" Your voice barely came out as a whisper as you walked further into the gardens, being careful of the flowers as you strolled.
"I'll never reveal my secrets, Google did play a huge part," He winks at you playfully as he smiles to himself. He was pretty proud of his find and happy with himself that it seemed to ease you, even if just for a little while.
Your eyes were still busy trying to take everything in, the garden stretched out like a patchwork quilt, with winding pathways meandering through lush greenery and colourful blooms. Huge trees provided perfect picnic spaces underneath them.
"This place is...beautiful," Your voice cracked a little as you turned to look back at Chan, who had a giant grin on his face.
"You needed time away from everything, so I found a small home away from home," He smiled, taking your hand in his and kissing it softly before making his way through the garden with you.
Every corner of the garden held its own enchantment, there were clusters of roses in shades of pink and red, and beds of vibrant tulips that swayed gracefully in the night breeze. There were even patches of wildflowers dotted around the landscape, something you truly never thought you'd see in person.
"This is like something from a book," You whispered to Chan, somehow it felt wrong if you were to speak too loudly, like somehow you would disturb the peace that was around.
"I knew you'd love it," He chuckled softly, taking you toward the centre of the garden where a majestic water fountain was sat. It was a marble basin adorned with intricate carvings that all depicted mythical creatures and flowing vines. The water trickled from the spouts filling the night air with the sound of cascading water.
"I love it and you," You told him as he carefully sat down on a brick bench that was sat in front of the fountain.
"I love you too, this is your sanctuary," He told you as you carefully sat down beside him, smiling and letting out a sigh of relief as you just let the world be.
Sitting there amidst the blooms, you felt a sense of peace wash over you, a welcome respite from the storm raging within your mind. But even in this serene setting, the echoes of your anxiety lingered, threatening to pull you back into its grasp.
As if he could sense your distress Chan wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer to him.
"I'm here, Yn," He whispered softly, his voice soothing your frazzled nerves as if like magic,
"You're not alone." You leaned into his embrace, finding solace in his presence, something you'd always managed to do with your boyfriend. There was something about him you couldn't quite explain, something you never thought could be possible but he calmed you.
He made you feel safe and secure whenever you were together, safe enough to let your mind go blank as you just relaxed against him. Sleeping next to someone had never been easy for you before but with Chan you always found yourself able to fall asleep with ease and even sleep through the night. Your body trusted him.
"Just close your eyes and let it be," Chan whispered, you closed her eyes, letting the sound of the water fountain and the sweet scent of flowers envelop you like a protective cocoon, Chan's strong arms around you helping all the more. With each breath, you felt the tight knot of anxiety within your chest slowly begin to unravel.
"Listen to the leaves." He said, his breath warm against your ear as you kept your eyes closed.
"Each one carries a message of hope, reminding us that even in the darkest of times, light is always there to be found." Chan pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, his hands gently running up and down your arms as you felt a lump in your throat beginning to form.
"You're stronger than you realised, Yn." He continued, his voice filling you with hope and confidence.
"You've faced so many challenges before and you've emerged stronger every single time...You have the courage and the resilience to overcome this..." He stilled his hands before moving closer to your ear,
"I believe in you," He whispered as your tears began to flow, you turned to bury your face in Chan's chest and he smiled weakly.
"I know it's hard," He told you as his arms tightened around you.
"But you're not and never will be alone in this. I'm here for you, every step of the way." He tells you as you snuggled closer to him.
"We'll face this together and we'll be stronger on the other side." He promised you, and you knew you could believe him, you just knew.
As you sat there, wrapped in each other's arms, you felt a flicker of hope ignite within you, a beacon of light in the darkness you'd been consumed in for days. With Chan by your side, you knew that you could weather any storm, and conquer any fear. Together you'd be able to emerge from anything victious.
"Thank you, Chan...for everything," You sniffled a little and Chan smiled using his hands to gently swipe away the tears that had fallen.
"You never have to thank me for something like this, I just want you to come to me in the future." He told you as you nodded, cuddling into him and smiling warmly.
After a few hours of sitting there, enjoying the night sky and the sounds of water you knew it was time to head home but there was something different. It felt as though there was a renewed sense of purpose coursing through your veins. You knew that the road ahead would be filled with challenges, but you also knew that with Chan by your side, you were going to be able to face anything that came your way.
In the days that followed your visit to the Garden, you found yourself leaning on Chan more than ever, which he was adoring every second of. All he ever wanted was to be there for you, it was part of being a boyfriend he was supposed to be there to support you in times of hardship. He became your rock, your steady anchor in the tumultuous sea of emotions. With his unwavering support, you began to face her anxiety head-on, armed with newfound courage and determination.
The two of you had developed different coping mechanisms that would help you out whenever your mind would become stormy. You took walks to the park almost every other night, leaving your phones at home and just walking hand in hand, breathing in the crisp air as you tried to let things go. Throughout every single part of it, Chan had been there, a constant source of love and encouragement, never once letting you go through any of it alone just as he had promised.
Through everything, Serenity Garden was your sanctuary, a place of refuge and where Chan would take you when everything would get too much again. You both returned to it often, seeking solace amidst the flowers and fountains and every time you came back you felt a little lighter as if the weight of the world was lifted from your shoulders, even for a short time. The two of you were back again tonight, cuddled together on the brick bench, surrounded by the gentle melody of the water fountain and the fragrant embrace of the flowers. Chan had his arms around you, pulling you close to him as his arms were a comforting shield around you.
"I love you, Yn," He whispered, his voice soft but fulled of unwavering sincerity.
"I will always be here for you, through the good times and the bad." Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you stared up at him, overwhelmed by how much Chan truly meant to you and how deep his love went for you. At that moment, you knew he was absolutely your soulmate, your partner in life's adventures.
"I love you too, Chan." Your voice choked with emotion/
"Thank you for being my rock, for never giving up on me even when I felt like I was giving up on myself." Chan brushed a gentle kiss across your forehead,
"I'll never give up on you and I'll never let you give up on yourself," He whispered to you, kissing your forehead one last time before you sat there, wrapped in each other's arms, your love burning amidst the tranquil beauty of Serenity Garden and you felt peace completely wash over you.
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• Obsession Unveiled •
A short collection of dark scenarios about being the object of their obsession.
Characters: Arlecchino, Dottore, Pantalone, Scaramouche [separately] x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Not-healthy relationship, consensual sexual themes - contains descriptions of marking, overstimulation, unprotected sex, size difference, etc - , mentions of possessive, obessesive, controlling and toxic behaviors. Read responsibly.
Similar post here.
Arlecchino ♦️♠️
She was captivating in her presence.
Her words, like sweet poison, had the power to sway the hearts and minds of those around her.
One fateful day, as you strolled along a meandering path, lost in your thoughts, you first met Arlecchino.
She stood at the edge of a cliff, her gaze fixed on the surrounding landscape.
The air around her seemed electric and her aura was intimidating, almost frightening.
Intrigued and oddly attracted by her striking presence, you approached her cautiously.
Little did you know this encounter would forever alter the course of your life.
She turned her piercing gaze towards you.
Her voice, a velvet whisper, beckoned you closer.
Mesmerized by her charm, your innocence and curiosity made you unable to resist.
A few steps and you were pulled against her.
She absolutely loved how vulnerable you looked.
How easily corruptible and breakable you soul was.
She could barely wait for the time she'd ruin you.
Meanwhile, your only thought was how your soul seemed to intertwine with hers, almost like she had some diabolic power above your feelings.
She needed a pawn.
And you were the best one she could find.
But you just needed her love and approval.
Like a pure butterfly encaged by the artful spiderweb, you trusted her with your life as you slowly became the object of her obsession.
She became your confidant, your guiding light in a world filled with darkness. A darkness that she often overstated about.
As the days passed, Arlecchino's grip on you tightened. She gradually inhibiting you from engaging with the outside world.
Persuading you to abandon the few friendships you had left and alienating yourself from the world, she tried to brainwash you to believe she was the only one you needed.
There was some twisted love between Arlecchino and you, but possessiveness and control tainted it.
Even if her manipulation had ensnared your heart, a flicker of resistance was still there, ready to snap if Arlecchino's plans crossed more of your boundaries.
If you were supposed to be nothing but a pawn…
Why was Arlecchino longing to make you feel safe, loved and respected, even if her behavior in your relationship wasn't the healthiest one?
Perhaps her heart wasn't dead, afterall.
Or maybe your love had healed part of her soul.
Did she fell in love without noticing?
♡ […]
You met her in secret at the fatuis' lair.
The lodge's library…
With long and dusted bookshelves and thick walls.
A locus that the harbingers barely paid attention to.
The perfect place to surrender to the most raw desires.
"Did my girl missed me?" Arlecchino sang mischievously, quickly locking the door behind her before going towards you with such slow steps you wondered what she was up to that night.
Her hand lifted your chin to meet her gaze.
Red flaming eyes carrying so much lust you could feel the atmosphere around you both getting dense.
Her thumb caressed your bottom lip as you tried to not break the eye contact with her.
"Master…" You whispered when her long nails traced the contours of your neck, collarbone and breasts from above the thin fabric of your dress.
"You're so submissive it hurts, my pet" Her quiet laugh against your ear sent shivers down your spine. "Tell me what you want from me"
"I want you to-" But she claimed your lips in a lustful kiss. She always earned the control and dominance, obliging you to follow her pace as she savored every second of your kiss.
"You want me to claim you…" Her tongue traced a path from your collarbone to the base of your ear. "You want me to fuck you senselessly" She whispered against your ear as she guided your body to lay down on the soft couch of the library.
"You need me remembering you that you're mine"
You pathetically assented to her words.
She was right once again.
Her touches were fervent and demanding.
Her kisses were embraced with a fervor that spoke about her untold love for you.
She explored your body with urgency: her love was intense and insatiable.
Her hands, guided by her desires, traced every inch of your exposed flesh
Your vulnerability and devotion always managed to awake a carnal hunger within Arlecchino's body.
It was a matter of time before she worn you out completely that night.
[…]
The sounds of your love was all over the attic as you two pushed the boundaries of pleasure.
A mix of moans and other soft sounds filled the air of the night, marking in your subconscious the strength of your connection.
In that cozy library, Arlecchino proved her love.
Marks of her passion covered your sore body.
You were lost in the moment, almost melting into your sleepiness as her nails caressed your hips.
Your intertwined bodies brought you the warmth and safety you craved for so long.
"Tired, my girl?" She asked before kissing your forehead with gentleness.
A simple gesture that made your heart flutter.
You assented, hiding your face against her neck.
"You did so good for me, my doll"
"Thank you, master" You mumbled before falling asleep in her embrace.
Dottore 🧪🩺
You could sense he wasn't the most sane person out there since your gaze met his for the first time.
Yet, you were so naive.
So painfully innocent and pure.
So dearly corruptible it ignited the most sinful persona of his.
Your new life as a test subject of Dottore was nothing like you had ever wished, yet why were you so attached and obedient to him?
Perhaps some of his very own perversion had finally found its way into your being.
Dottore was controlling.
So controlling you felt overwhelmed, encaged.
Every single day he would spend hours checking upon you, reassuring himself you were still just like the way he left you before leaving his locus.
No one other himself could touch you.
No one other himself could have you as their own.
The doctor gaslighted you every day you only had him by your side.
Timr after time he made you believe that no one other than him loved or cared about you.
So how could you not trust him?
How could you not show devotion and obedience?
At least those virtues guaranteed you a softer personality of your master.
Trying to not be contaminated by his mad behavior or ideals would only make things worse.
He wasn't one to say he cherished you.
To him, serving as a pet whom he could use whenever he wanted or needed was the bare minimum you could do to the one who took you in.
Still, why did he hate the thought of losing you?
He despised the possibility of your permissive behavior was nothing more than falsehood.
But you were his.
You were there on the same spot for him every single time he came back.
You never tried escaping his hands.
You never disobeyed him, even if that obedience was fruit of fear and hopelessness.
You were finally his and that was the only thing that mattered.
♡ […]
You were still dizzy from sleep when the man slowly opened the door of the laboratory you were kept.
"My pet… Any discomforts from the last test?"
You blinked a few times, trying to make your blurry vision focus on his face.
He wasn't using any masks.
Nothing covered the weird smile he had on his lips.
"I'm… I'm okay" Was what you whispered, wanting to hide from him but staying still to not awake the worse of him.
You never knew what he was up to.
It could be him simply visiting you to share a few moments of kisses and soft touches or him using you as a toy in an almost insane research.
"Does your body hurt, my little angel?"
You shivered when his cold hand touched you thigh.
"Just a bit, but I'm okay"
His red eyes explored some of the marks he had left on your body the last time you had sex.
"You don't have to lie" His hand gripped your sore wrist tightly enough to gain a whimper from you. "Are you willing to be mine once again?"
You kept silent.
Sure, it would overwhelm your body.
But how could you deny anything to him?
You assented right before he stole a kiss from you.
[…]
"Dottore?" Your face was hid against his neck as you breathed the weak traces of cologne: the amber notes almost fading after hours of having you over and over again.
"Yes…?"
"Am I a good pet?"
His sharp teeth appeared on his smile.
"The best one someone could ever wish for"
Pantalone ♟️
His personality was captivating and his appearance was alluring.
His soft smiles and graceful aura made you feel sheltered after so many harsh years.
Pantalone wasn't really an intimidating one as you once thought. Or was he only able to hide the darkness within him with efficiency?
Afterall, why such centered and polite man would align his ideals to such organization as the fatui?
Trusting devoting your life to someone you barely knew was perilous.
You weren't sure about what his true intentions were, after all.
But the confidence in his words whenever he whispered he would be enough for you…
The promises he made you after every kiss and night you spent together…
The reassurance and safety he brought to your shattered heart…
Those were more than enough for you to believe he was being sincere.
Time revealed a controlling facade of his.
Still, the love between you both was intense and passionate, even if that costed some freedom.
His will of protecting you from anyone or anything was his form of showing he truly cared about you.
Pantalone was always by your side, influencing your decisions and manipulating the consequences so his control over you was camouflaged as 'worry of losing you to someone or something'.
'Is true love controlling and almost suffocating?' Was a thought that crossed your mind every time your relationship became too much for you to handle. A thought that would always - oh so soon - fade away due your devotion towards the man who showed you deserved love.
♡ […]
"I couldn't imagine a life without your light" His gloves felt soft against your cheeks. "I'm grateful you're mine, my doll"
You pulled him to a kiss.
How else could you even answer such confession?
"I missed you" Those words left your lips as nothing more than a whisper while you straddled his lap. "I despise having you away for so long"
"I'm aware my services for the fatui don't have your approval" His hands were finally free from the gloves as you felt them against the skin of your back. "But leaving their side is out of question"
"Pantalone…" You sighed, frustrated.
"Forgive me for bringing the subject up. Perhaps you just need to be claimed as mine after all this time" Soon enough his hands gripped your waist, guiding your movements so he could finally found his way inside you. A whimper left your lips as you grew familiar with the sensation you missed so much.
He made you aware of how deep inside of you he was by guiding one of your hands to feel the bulge formed against your belly.
"After all this months together you still struggle while taking me inside of you…" He smiled when you hid your face against his neck. "Oh I made you shy?"
You couldn't help but squirm when his cold fingers reached your clit, brushing circles against such sensitive spot with the ease only the man who knew your body with the back of his hands could have.
"Just make me forget everything as you make me yours time after time this night" You marked his neck with a hickey before finishing your line. "Remember me who I belong to until dawn"
"As you wish, my good girl"
Scaramouche 🎴
He despised the fact that a being like him - with such rage, resentment and hatred nurtured inside of him during ages - was capable of loving someone so dearly much he would sacrifice anything if that meant he could have the one he loved.
'Love is just a camouflage to what resembles rage' Was the thought that made him feel less vulnerable when it came to loving and needing you.
You first met him as Scaramouche, the 6th harbinger of the fatui. Not Wanderer, not Kunikuzushi or any other persona of his.
You found him in the heyday of his insanity.
Still, why did he suddenly felt the urge to give up on his revenge so he could call you his?
Were you any different from the people he had met in the past?
Would you love him regardless of his selfish acts and decisions?
Would he finally experience love after being betrayed and abandoned?
Scaramouche decided you were worth the effort.
His behavior was paranoic.
He wasn't so controlling as he wished.
Still, he influenced many of your steps.
He often thought you would leave anytime.
He couldn't support the possibility of losing you.
He needed stability: he just wanted to be sure you would be there for him any time, any day.
You both belonged together in every scenario of his.
♡ […]
His mind was driving him insane.
He shouldn't have let you go out for yourself.
Why did him even bother providing you some sense of freedom? It was perilous.
Would you even return to him after leaving for some days to visit those who love you?
He was almost sure you would abandon and betray him like they did before.
Would you prove him you weren't any different from the people he met in the past right in the first opportunity you had?
He felt so human like he never did.
Agony was all over him, mouth dry with discomfort and despair made him sick.
The thought of losing you was unbearable.
You were the only one he had.
How could life take you from him too?
Scaramouche was so lost in his own daydream he barely listened to your arrival.
"I'm home" You said softly, closing the door behind you. But no answer came from anywhere. "Scaramouche?"
You found him on the couch, soon enough noticing his state: dark eyebags, messy hair and an aloof gaze. Such a pale skin he looked sick and he had lost some weight for his clothes were loose.
You heart ached at that sight.
Was all of that fear of abandonment?
A heavy sigh left his lips when he heard your voice. It felt like a crushing weight had been taken away from his shoulders.
"You came back, afterall" He mumbled.
"Sure I did… Why wouldn't I, love?"
Those last four letters brought tears to his eyes.
You loved him.
You would never leave him.
You proved you truly cared about him.
"Hey, come here" You helped him get up from the couch before pulling him close. "I would never leave you, Scaramouche. I'm different from them"
His hug felt genuine for the first time.
"Please tell me you're still mine" He whispered.
"I'm yours" You kissed him shortly. "Till my last day"
[…]
Your hands roamed each other's bodies - clothes weren't a problem anymore for they had been taken away it's been a while - rediscovering the contours and curves that had once been so familiar.
You stood before him, vulnerable and exposed.
So ready to be claimed, so ready to be marked as his in the filthest ways possible.
He guided you towards the bed, laying you down gently as if you were a fragile work of art.
He traced a trail of kisses down your neck, his teeth grazing your collarbone, earning a soft moan from deep within you.
Your fingers clawed at the sheets, shivering in anticipation as his lips made their way down, exploring every inch of your body with devotion.
You squirmed under him when his lips reached your clit, sucking it with the right amount of pressure so you could melt against the mattress.
His tongue savoured every inch of your sex, collecting some of your essence before he could swallow it with satisfaction.
Oh the taste he had craved for so long…
Having you all to himself after weeks without your presence was the closest thing to paradise he had ever experienced.
Your hands left the sheets so you could play with the soft indigo locks as your high approached.
"I missed you so much…" He whispered more to himself than to you as he stopped his ministrations.
The pillow he put under your hips was your clue that he would finally fuck you raw.
He craved more, and you were eager to oblige.
His hand found its way between your thighs once again, testing the wetness that had been pooling inside your core.
He positioned himself above you, his eyes meeting yours in a silent agreement before his first thrust.
Scaramouche could spend hours on end claiming you if that meant he'd reassurance himself you were completely his once again, under his vigilance.
#genshin x reader#genshin fanfic#dottore x reader#arlecchino x reader#pantalone x reader#scaramouche x reader#il dottore#arlecchino#scaramouche#genshin scenarios#genshin imagines#fanfic#i havent written in so long#sidemari#fatui x reader#genshin smut
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Little Angel, Only Freak? - Grapejuice.
🎃 Halloween Flashbacks 🎃
This can be read as a stand-alone piece! 👻 I've really been wanting to include some flashback moments from Harry and Klutz's past, so I thought Halloween would be the perfect place to start!
Premise: Harry has been pining over Y/n - his best friends slightly older sister - for as long as he can remember.
GRAPEJUICE MASTERPOST / Other Writing
NB! Y/n's (Klutz) brother's name is Jack. In Grapejuice it's mentioned that Harry may have wrote some songs about Klutz. These events were inspired specifically by two of his masterpieces lmao, so lemme know if you notice any references hehe. - Em. xo
Warnings: Drinking/smoking (this oneshot contains quite a bit due to the fact that they are attending a lot of Halloween parties). Age-gap (2yrs). Self-insert she/her.
Word count: 5.4k
🍷 2011 🍷
Sitting with your legs criss-crossed, on the kitchen counter which is perhaps the highest off of the ground you are most comfortable with. Your firm belief in keeping your feet on the soil, neither under deep waters nor up in the air.
That aside, you are eating a toastie, courtesy of your own cooking- rather surprised that not only did you manage to get ready on time, but actually finished with plenty to spare.
Indulging in your meal, the sound of Travis Scott accompanying your chewing, Harry's sudden appearance in the kitchen is startling, but nothing out of the ordinary. Besides, there have been plenty of worse and compromising interactions in the past.
“Aren’t you too old to be trick-or-treating?” You mumble through your food-filled mouth, eyeing him from top to bottom, shamefully admiring his choice of costume. Perhaps you were a sucker for a sexy pirate- though a large part of you believes the 'sexy' part was unintentional.
Harry only smiles and meanders further into the kitchen, invading the fridge for god knows what before giving up, strolling over to you, invading your space in an instant and with audacity you have never witnessed prior, he snatches the half-devoured triangle of a toastie and takes a hearty bite before speaking through muffled chews,
“Age is but a construct.”
“I guess I agree.” You shrug, thoughts travelling to the dangerously explicit fantasies you experienced at the mere existence of Tom Hard, your brain concocting a dreamland in which a 15-year age gap would be graciously welcomed.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Harry archives the moment. An entirely separate dreamland surrounds him and yourself. But, you still seem so far away, Harry is aching to extend the conversation, “Where are you off to, a Tarantino-themed party?”
“That my dear, is none of your business.”
“Well for what it’s worth,” he informs both sweetly and sultry, “you make a beautiful *Viper.”
“You’re not so bad yourself, Styles.” You open the gates and let your guard down, needing him to know you notice him- see him, and if vulnerability is the way to make that clear, god willing, something inside you wishes to share it.
Harry is stunned- your words are one thing, your tone is another. He wants, no, he needs to hear your softness, again and again. Then there is an invasive double honk and it can only belong to the red Mazda parked in the driveway, stark headlights shining through the kitchen curtains.
You hop off the counter without a care in the world, straighten out your costume, and check your makeup in the reflection of the microwave before strolling straight past Harry and into the entrance hall, grabbing your matching purse. You raise your voice to address both your brother and the sexy pouting pirate stunned to silence,
“That’s my ride." Certain they've both heard, you open the front door and as an afterthought, call over your shoulder, "Save me a Mars bar!”
👻
The boys are in line for the entrance to a club that Jack stated would be "popping", but there is a clear age limit and Harry's anxiety is already reaching its limit. He turns to Darth Vader- ignoring how ridiculous his friend is- and Harry cautiously ponders aloud,
“Are you sure we’re even gonna get in?”
“Trust me.” Jack sternly enforces.
“What is this hold you have over me?” Harry concedes.
By what could either be deemed a miracle or exceptional finesse, it's not long before the boys have their left wrists stamped with a small ink jack-o-lantern, and are entering the club.
“See! Am I ever wrong?” Jack projects against the booming bass, but Harry certainly hears him, more focused on the dissipating nerves being replaced with confidence.
“Drinks!” Jack doesn't allow a retort, making his way to the bar with the assurance that Harry is following close behind. Harry was, and after a few other patrons are tended to, the boys order their choices and cheer a duet of tequilas in celebration of their success.
The tequila is still travelling down Harry's throat when a voice, so sweet and so familiar, almost causes him to choke, his eyes opening, neck dropping to look at the person who had exclaimed "Oi!". Unsurprisingly, you are standing there, arms on your hips, a look of disappointment painted across your face,
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“To be fair, I didn’t expect you to be here either.” Jack shrugs.
“I thought you were trick-or-treating, Jack." You chide.
“Oh, please, we’re seventeen. You knew that was a cover.” His eye-rolls with a jovial smirk.
“Still. I thought at least a house party.”
“Which is exactly where you said you would be.”
“Shut up.” Your last line of defence.
“C’mon, Y/n. Go have fun, it’ll be like we’re not even here.”
With a dissatisfied sigh, you grab your drink from the bar counter and gather within the group of girls all dressed with glamorous uniqueness, disappearing into the mass of dancers, praying that Jack’s statement would prove correct.
But, as expected, this promise was broken within the first hour after the desperate need for a Marlboro was lulling in your lungs, and for some useless and godforsaken reason, smoking is banned from the bar and dancefloor- bar vaping- however, due to the lack of an outside area, the designated smoking zone was the hallway.
After a trip to the bathroom- which had vanity counters, ladies waiting near the cashmere wash towels to unnecessarily aid in drying your hands; each bathroom is garnished with gold framing and every stall comes with a little glass table attached to the wall; perfect for cutting lines of coke- you decided it was time to settle down for a good smoke, spotting an empty, luxurious maroon and velvet two-seater sofa.
Your focus is on the ridiculous custom silver bear lighter you bought second-hand, your head bowed, smoke balanced between your lips, so it comes as a great surprise when you glance up and Harry is standing before you. By the time your cigarette sets alight, he is settled next to you on the lounger,
“Fancy seeing you here.” He teases lazily.
“You lost Jack?” You shift your body to better see him, simultaneously handing him your smoke.
“Always do.” He softly chuckles, knuckles brushing your fingertips in exchange, and he takes a good drag, hoping it will miraculously cure the anxiety that seemed to return the moment he found himself alone.
“That guy’s a menace.”
"This is the strangest hallway I've ever seen." He comments, glancing around the room of scattered stoners and straight smokers. Then he remembers the house he visited less than three hours ago, "And that's saying something."
"Our hallway is not that bad." You lamely defend- this conversation has been ongoing since youth.
"Can't believe we're sitting on a chez lounge." Harry marvels, hand stroking at the smooth material.
"This place truly is something." You agree, proceeding to ponder the answer to a premonition she needs confirmation for, “What are you doing over here?”
“Just needed a breather.” He admits. “You?”
“Guess I’m doing the same.” You consider.
“What’s the matter, klutz?” He reads your mood like a medium- some sort of magician.
“Boys are shitty.” You allow him the tip of the ice burg- it has been bugging you, perhaps not as much as the other things bothering and plaguing you.
“We are.” He agrees lightly, knowing it would be detrimental to pry.
“You aren’t. most of the time, anyway.”
“I thought I was the most annoying person you know.”
“You are. Maybe ever.” You dramatise your distaste, “But you are by no means shitty.”
For a reason Harry had always known, yet never questioned, he found your presence as relaxing as falling asleep cradled by a fluffy cloud. He briefly wonders if you feel the same, but knows better than to embrace hope. Nevertheless, he says what he can guarantee will suit your interesting demeanour,
“I’m sorry about… whatever you’re going through.”
“Thanks, Harry.” You smile earnestly as the pair of you proceed to pass the cigarette back and forth, comfortable in the presence of taking a cool-down.
But, with your vulnerability out in the open, it becomes mandatory to verify the reason he is currently sitting beside you,
“Why aren’t you down there?”
Harry knew it was coming, thought about what to say, and came up with a few reasonable excuses but as soon as the question leaves your quirked and lush lips, the truth comes pouring out and he cannot do anything but witness his honesty,
“I feel out of my element.”
“That’s all in your head.” You try to reassure him, knowing it isn’t that simple, yet hoping he might allow you the chance to prove it, even for just a moment.
“Oh, is that right?” He smirks.
You are standing before he can blink twice, singing your cigarette in the ashtray and reaching your arm out for him to join you,
“C’mon, I’ll show you.”
He doesn’t protest- he doesn’t even hesitate as he wraps his hand in your own, raising from the chair and allowing you to drag him wherever you please.
This results in descending stairs, weaving through a crowd before finally reaching the destination; the bar. He shouldn’t be surprised, but the pleasure and subconscious pride he wore as you tugged him about, moving closer, sometimes a few steps apart, but never letting go of his hand- even if only one finger was hooked to his own.
The bartender arrives with such haste that Harry is almost certain it has something to do with your beauty- it does- but mere moments later he finds out that you are in fact a regular visitor- and a loved one, at that.
Harry is so enamoured and floored with such an overload of new information about you that he hardly registers when you tilt over the counter and order four tequilas.
And when the tequila arrives, there are five, offered as, ‘on the house’. Your reaction is mischievous and Harry feels exhilarated at the promise of your mission to make his night memorable.
“Bottoms up.” You command, double-parking and encouraging Harry to wrap both of his shot glasses in each palm. He does as follows, giving you awkward cheers before copying your skill and tossing back the tequila one after the other. You then guide Harry to drop both glasses on the table and immediately grab the lonesome shot glass, still filled to the brim.
You go in for half a sip, savouring the sharp spirits slipping down your throat but leaving half the glass full. Handing it over to Harry he finishes the drink and turns to you in anticipation for further instructions. Your shoulders can’t resist a consequential shudder, and then you clap your hands together and cheekily beam up at him,
“Now, we dance.”
“I can’t dance.” His pitch is one of panic and protest.
“Neither can I.” You answer proudly, wrapping his hand in your own and leading him onto the dancefloor.
🍷 2016 🍷
Your boyfriend has caused yet another scene, taking it personally when some poor guy dressed as a zombie accidentally stepped on his foot.
Before he had the chance to toss more furniture, you plan an escape and make a beeline for the kitchen- somewhere likely to be devoid of party-goers. But when you round the corner, the sight of Harry, dressed in a white and red striped shirt, hair quaffed beneath a goofy matching beanie, and eyes framed by large, black round glasses. He's sitting on the counter, his light jean-clad legs dangling, shoes knocking against the bottom cabinets.
He seems too calm for such a festive evening, especially when he is as notorious as Jack when it comes to turning into a playful nuisance- affectionate, chatty, and likely to end up attempting to dance.
You walk straight over, only coming to a halt when your sternum presses into his knees, and beneath those gaudy glasses, you don't miss the way his deep green eyes swell and his lashes bash beautifully with bafflement.
"Ah, here's Waldo." You beam up at him.
"Y'got me." He lightly shrugged, a sneaky smile painting his cheeks.
"What do I win?"
Eyes widening with an accompanying Chesire cat smile, your tone tainted with taunting cheeriness. But, nonsensically you lean in closer, bare abdomen grazing his denim.
Whether intentional or not, Harry is set alight, his burning knees spreading along his stomach, trailing up his chest, simmering his heart and throat, coals burning at his cheeks and brain. He is so stoned on placebo, that his mouth is unable to project his profession,
"Anything you want."
You are experiencing first-degree burns, bathing yourself in diversion,
"Are these your real glasses?" You lean your face forward, lining up with his own, your hands gently clasping the black frames and examining the determined false lenses. "Guess not."
There are less than zero reasons for your bodies to remain so stuck, relaxed in the sanctuary of physical contact, but neither of you makes an attempt to move, unaddressed and absolutely mad. You deem it time to turn things around,
"Avoiding the party?"
"A little." He shrugs.
"Bad company?"
"The worst." He tilts his chin to the ceiling before returning his gaze to your own, "Though I can't imagine I'm much better."
"Anything is better than the mess going on outside." You meet his pondersome eyes with a competitive roll of your own.
Now Harry understands the crash he had heard through the kitchen window. Your expressions of annoyance and disappointment emit all of the information he needs to know,
"Dickie acting up again?"
"You know that's not his name."
"It should be."
Harry has never shied away from expressing his distaste for your boyfriend- simply because you were dating him. Harry was hardly around, and when he was, you were almost guaranteed to be absent due to plans with Ricky.
With a sudden bough of frustration, your hands press into Harry's upper thighs to properly balance yourself. he does everything- and more- to avoid physically reacting to your unusual closeness. You breathe out and it matches the mournful furrow of your brow,
"He's just... why does he have to be so aggressive?"
"Yeah, that table certainly didn't deserve that." Harry leans in, looking down at you with a worrisome but sensitive demeanour. And then he leaps and lightly wraps his hand around your hip.
His eyes are studying your soft face, his heart focused on your sweet features and the feeling of your skin separated by his clothes, but his head is still stuck on the confusion currently holding you captive. He can't help by prying,
"He's not... aggressive with you, right?"
"Not yet." The words trail off of your tongue. And then you toss everything aside, pressing your fingers into his thigh "I don't wanna talk about it right now."
Harry doesn't know how to react, sudden shocks of arousal emulating at the discomfort of your digging nails, the desperate desire to destroy the distance between your lips, loop his arm around your neck, softly cup your cheek and express how special you should be treated- with such certainty that you never forget,
"I like your costume. Might be your best so far."
It definitely is, you are rather impressed with how well your Other Mother costume turned out. Though, your already tragic bank account has taken a traumatic bashing,
"I spent way too much money on it."
"How much?" His grin is mischievous.
"Too much."
"Now I have to know." He pleads, but know you will never utter the shame you suffer. He won't let you off the hook so easy, though, "Just to rub it in, I'll have you know, I only spent three pounds."
You huff, leaning further into his touch, enjoying the feeling of his fingers on your flesh. He has to tilt to see you fully, and you aid him craning your neck to meet him in the middle, dismissing the deemed unnecessary distance,
"Well, you've done a terrible job at making it hard to find you."
"Maybe I wanted you to find me." He shrugs with suave.
"That was ambitious."
"It worked, yeah?" He is seeping with playful pride, though he cannot prevent his need to compliment you- perhaps the only way to get his attraction across was through words, true words at that, "You really do look beautiful."
"Not just sexy?"
"Sexy as fuck." He groans, fingers pressing into the plush fleshyness of your waist, "But not just sexy."
"Filthy." You scold seductively.
And then you seem to find yourself sinking further into his touch, trying with everything in you to get nearer- his neck so biteable, collarbone begging for loving bruises. Harry is on the same page, body pressing into your own, his palm trailing up and settling on your lower back.
You think he might kiss you. You think you are out of your mind... But, you think you're going to let him. The only thing to pause your seemingly-senseless thoughts is the defensive, stern, and frankly, threatening boom of your boyfriend,
"Hey, what the fuck are you doing with my girl?"
Like velcro being violently ripped apart, you have never moved with such haste in all of your current existence to date. Harry is now at least three feet away from you, and your boyfriend is berzerkly striding towards him. Harry calmly and rationally raises his palms in defence,
"Nothing, mate."
"Ricky-" You edge closer.
But, your boyfriend has already aimed his fist at Harry's face, and instead of reacting with returned aggression, he interjects,
"Mate, chill out." Harry reasons with a casual shrug, "She's like a sister to me."
An invasive feeling of disappointment pangs at your heart at the sound of sister, and to this day you will not analyse why. It was something you were guaranteed to repeat in the future.
"Am I supposed to believe that?" Ricky scoffs but his arm drops to his side nevertheless.
Harry hops off of the counter with ease, stepping past your boyfriend with effortless confidence. He glances over at you for a mere instance- not long enough for you to comprehend the event that just unfolded.
He reaches over to the nearest countertop and grabs his solo-cup and before turning his back completely, he addresses Ricky with finality,
"Believe what you want, Batman."
🍷 2018 🍷
Harry knocks for a third time before Jack finally answers the door- and when he does, dressed Pennywise- a red balloon tied to his wrist- Harry instantly regrets his entire life, attempting to prepare for a chaotic Halloween party. Whenever Jack finds himself in an extravagant, far-too-detailed costume, two things are certain; there will be a magically, monstrous punch bowl, and Jack will be dancing on any piece of furniture that catches his eye.
“So, this was your last-minute decision?” Harry works hard to keep the disturbed feelings from projecting across his features.
“It was this or Heisenburg, okay?” Jack sighs, audatiously comparing his- what can only be described as a slutty Pennywise to simply purchasing a hazmat.
“How much time did you spend on this?” Harry finds his amusement increasing.
“Too long.” Jack admits with distaste. But all in all, This is the best of his costumes to date, and Harry certainly agrees.
“I’m sure the ladies will love it.” He commends, and Jack nods avidly, his face mimicking that of confidence.
Harry ponders halfheartedly as they enter the home Harry knows so well- the home he spent at least a quarter of his 28 years. It's only as he reaches the living room, packed with both familiar and unfamiliar faces. Many of them seem older than he, and Harry can only assume these are friends of Jack’s college, and your work colleagues.
A pang of panic threatens to become a full-blown wave of disappointment and regret. Missing out on the life he could have had.
Before he can be swept away by his newfound unfamiliarity, Jack has led them to the makeshift bar- a dining table decorated with spooky decorations, all surrounding the notorious monster of the eve- the Halloween punch. Harry doesn’t protest- by this point he deems it necessary.
Lightly tapping their cups together in cheers. Jack takes a hearty sip before his brows suddenly raise in realization,
“Huh. That’s funny.” Jack finally takes a moment to acknowledge his best friend, emulating the Devil himself.
“Hm?” Harry asks halfheartedly, eyes scanning the room for something and he doesn’t even know what.
“I just noticed your costume.”
Harry’s gaze snaps back to Jack, giving him a puzzled look, masking a sudden bough of insecurity simmering beneath the surface,
“I look funny?”
“No, Y/n told me she was gonna be an Angel. Coincidence, huh?” Jack shrugs.
“Is she here?” Harry tries to hide the sudden panic.
“Not yet. You know she’s gonna lose her mind over it.” Jack grins, always bemused by the so-called banter between his sister and best friend.
Harry’s panic is substituted by an odd sense of relief- he now knows what- or who- he had been searching for. With a bough of mischievous confidence, he mimics his best friend's grin and informs,
“Just what I wanted to hear.”
👻
Upon the news of his holy crush’s imminent arrival, Harry finishes his first punch cup and then heads towards the ‘bar’ to pour another.
Pleasantly, someone is already attending to the punch- an old teammate from his high school football team has the same intentions, finishing up on filling his cup before recognizing Harry and enthusiastically initiating a catch-up. One that proves helpful, replacing his thoughts of you with good conversation and in turn, allows him to react.
It’s unclear how long this chat persisted as the boys moved from the make-shift bar to a spot on the porch- already scattered with smokers and an extremely tense game of beer-pong.
Eventually, the punch has caught up with him and Harry has to excuse himself in favour of the bathroom. This should be an easy enough task, but this monstrous punch has proved poisonous as it lags his movements and encourages him to take a long, good look at himself in the cobweb-framed mirror.
Impressed with his costume, and impressed with how calm and cheery he felt. Things don’t seem so bad- the intrusive thoughts were offering silence for the sake of letting him have a good time.
His best friend’s home has always had the oddest of hallways. A complicated combination of narrow to wide, with unnecessary corners and nooks. These proved sacred during the times of childhood, the perfect place to out-smart the person trying to yell, ‘Tag, you’re it!’ Now, this hallway is treacherous and Harry longs to find himself back in the living room, especially with the amount of party-goers crowding the corridor.
Looking back, Harry wonders if he would have even seen you wedged between a pair of what seems to be Cersei and Jaime Lannister. It would be hard not to, with the way the shimmering satin dress and the sparkling halo create a ring of glory around you.
But you certainly see him, meandering down the hallway dressed in a costume to match your own. Your first feeling should be annoyance, but unfortunately, your thoughts are redirected to just how good he looks.
The duo you were humouring are a thing of the past as you mutter an “excuse me”- gaze and mind already set on intercepting Satan himself.
He’s leaning against the wall- being extra careful to not knock over any picture frames. His head is bowed, contemplating his next move and it suddenly and forcefully occurs to him that his original plan to find you was diverted by a pointless side-quest.
As if the thin veil of Halloween was thoughtful enough to grant him instant gratification, a set of white heels, laced to the upper calf is walking his way. He lets his eyes trail the length of soft thighs up to the seams of lacy trim, savouring each fleshy, smooth thigh before finally addressing the owner's face.
When his eyes are met with your own, glittering with each blink, Harry’s widen in surprise, jaw threatening to slack as you stop before him. Giving him a good glance before mimicking his stance and balancing yourself against the wall.
“Well, well, well.” Your tone is both amused and annoyed.
A sudden rush of ease and euphoria washes over him at the coolness of your mood- though, that was subject to change rather quickly in the presence of Harry.
On a whim you attribute to both a poisonous punch and the devil standing before you, Harry is taken off guard by the sudden contact of your palm on his chest, even more, surprised as you push and guide him into the nearest alcove.
But that was as far as your thoughts had progressed, what was the plan now? This is a result of impulsivity, and when you concede and don’t go on to say anything further, Harry takes the opportunity to back you into the corner, arms balancing loosely on the wall near your face.
“Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?” His smile is cheesy.
“I’m sure you’re enjoying this.” Your eyes roll, arms crossing your chest in distaste.
Harry tilts down ever so slightly, aligning his lips with the shell of your ear,
“Loving it.”
“And I’m supposed to believe this is just a coincidence?”
“Believe what you want, Angel.”
He returns to his previous position, aching to get a better look at your face, hoping that the blush pink scattered across your cheeks is a product of not makeup, but himself. You cannot admit that it’s a combination of both- not even to yourself- instead opting for a classic eye-roll and continuing to do what you do best,
“I see you chose to go costume-less this year.”
“You’re hilarious.”
“You’re the Devil.” You try, “Truly.”
By now, your hands have dropped to your sides, securing distance but still unexplainably allowing Harry the chance to wander closer if he wishes. He does, but only enough for your chests to brush, his head bowed to gaze your way, one of his hands reaching out to fiddle with the accessory adorning your head,
“Why, because I make you want to ditch that pretty little halo?”
“You’re insane.” You chide, palm raising to his abdomen in protest.
“And you want me.” He articulates with certainty.
“Correction, you’re psychotic.”
But you like the feeling of his muscles tensing beneath your hold, the musky and fruity aroma invading your senses. The curve where his shoulder and neck meet is aligned with your chin, and for a split second, you ponder the impulse to get closer, latch your lips to his skin and sink your teeth in.
Harry likes having you so near, he can smell the Chanel and cocoa butter seeping from your skin, the crown of your head smells of something fruity and fresh. And when your hand absentmindedly trails further along his stomach, settling on his shoulder, Harry almost stops breathing when his impulses get the best of him, wrapping his free arm around your waist, and when you don’t protest and your free arm goes to rest along his shoulder, he thinks he might have a chance,
“Are you sure, pretty Angel? Your body seems to think otherwise.”
“Shut up, Harry.”
“You’re more than welcome.” he smirks, loving the way your eyes simmer with conflict, “…To shut me up, that is.”
You decide that fame has done a lot to him, not just the typical singing, stadiums and superstardom, so why the hell is he talking like a… man? Like he knows how to seduce a woman, and why the fuck does that make your stomach churn with curiosity.
But, you remind yourself that age equals experience and that makes you the superior. Besides, from the way he’s currently behaving, you have an inkling that his ego has likely inflated.
This could be fun. Two could play at this game, and no matter the amount of fraternizing Harry may have committed, you were competitively and egotistically prepared to knock him down a peg.
Raising to the tip of your toes, hand tightening on his shoulder, nails softly scratching at his back, your other hand reaching to wrap around his neck, your thumb stroking the crook of his chin. Batting your eyelashes with a lick of the lips, you ensure he hears each and every word,
“Is that what you want, sweet boy?” You coo, and Harry stiffens in an instant, blinking rapidly as you push on, “Want me to take care of you?”
“You can do whatever you want.” He blurts out before the ‘ou’, fist flexing against the wall, his body aching to be tangled up with your own.
It's cute, and unnecessarily arousing, and as much as you know you shouldn’t, there’s an ache in your chest that chants for you to crumb him along for just a little longer,
“Pity. After all, this is just a costume.”
“Prove it.”
His eyes are eager, nose bumping along your forehead, and your hand comes to its finale as it holds his cheek in place, gently pulling his face nearer to your own. You pout, but the sly smirk prints itself at the corners of your lips nevertheless,
“A Devil certainly isn't deserving.”
“Prove it anyways.”
Harry thinks he’s about two sentences away from begging for something he didn’t know he needed so desperately. As much as it pains you to put a pin in this, the confusion of juxtaposition of attraction is threatening to make you light-headed.
“No.”
So, to Harry’s utter dismay, you release him from your hold and tactfully slip out between the space you once occupied. With one more sympathetic pat on his shoulder, you smile at him and make your way back down the hallway, feathered wings taunting him in your wake.
🍷 2019 🍷
Harry was lucky enough to have been in town for Halloween- he can't count how many holidays he missed over the last half-decade. He’s dressed as her favourite thing; a teddy bear- fuzzy ears and makeup to match. Your brother, Jack was hosting his famously chaotic annual Halloween celebration, and Harry was far too giddy at the guarantee of seeing you again. He can't count the missed holidays, but he can certainly count how many years it’s been since you last spoke- mar the quick birthday wishes, and periodic congratulations and praise.
But, after an hour or so, he is starting to doubt his certainty, gaze shamelessly studying the room, hoping he had merely missed your arrival. Two solo cups of warm beer later, Harry is itching to locate you- this is your tradition after all, and he was so sure that this time would end differently, that she would finally see him for the man he was becoming.
He definitely wouldn’t be asking Jack why you weren’t here- partially because he seems preoccupied with a makeshift gravity bong. Instead, Harry seeks out one of your oldest friends, Nova, who is dressed as a Harley Quinn, but before he can even reach the group in which she mingles, his boot trips on a rug and unable to help it, the contents of his cup comes spilling out, splashing and coating Nova’s front with the sticky substance. After apologising profusely- even if just to come off polite- Harry musters up the humility to ponder your lack of presence.
Disheartened and disappointed when she responds with, “She’s in Italy”, Harry is once again confused by Jack’s lack of mentioning the news. Though none of his business, the dichotomy of standing his ground and avoiding the question versus caving in and simply asking Jack has him in quite the frenzy.
The rest of the evening is a bore- Harry switches to ginger ale, and though he attempts to mingle, maintaining interest proves to be impossible, and for the first time, Harry makes the decision to head home early.
But, now, with a make-up-free face and his favourite jammies, he is tucked beneath the fluffiest sheets and your mere existence is pulling the sheets tighter, trapping him in a series of thoughts of yours truly, thinking about you.
#harry styles x reader#harry styles fic#elioslover#harry styles one shot#harry styles x y/n#harry styles imagine#harry styles x you#harry x reader#harry styles blurb#harry styles#grapejuice#grape juice#grapejuicefic#harry styles smut#harry styles fanfic#harry fic#harry smut#harry styles concept#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fic rec#harry styles imagines#harry styles masterlist#harry styles writing#itallry#italy!harry
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Gemtho Fortnight Day 14
Prompt: rpf gemtho with gem running into him by chance and recognizing his voice (bumbing into him or smth? so he hasn't seen her) v romcom like
cw: rpf
Gem stops just after mile three of her run, panting, hands on her hips. She feels good — breathing has been easy, the ground gentle underfoot from an overnight rain — and her pace has stayed steady.
She walks along the forest path, surrounded by nothing but trees and birds she can just about hear above the music in her earbuds. She draws on her water and lets it work to cool her back down as she meanders, heading to the lookout point where she typically turns around.
She likes this place. It’s a well-kept secret, and at this time of day, it’s often only her and a few retirees going for their daily stroll.
Best of all, at the lookout, there’s a bench she usually uses to help stretch out the rest of her muscles as she stares out beyond the cliffs to where the sky and ocean meet. It’s the best form of therapy she’s found yet.
But today, as she breaks through the treeline, she realizes she’s not alone. There’s a man already sitting on the seat.
She pauses her music, hesitating just long enough for him to apparently notice she’s there, because he turns to look over his shoulder.
There’s nothing remarkable about him — a slender face, blue eyes, brown hair mostly hidden beneath a baseball cap branded with a logo she doesn’t recognize. He offers a polite smile, that she returns, and gestures vaguely at the seat beside him in a clear invitation.
“I’m good,” she promises and he shrugs as though to say suit yourself.
When he looks back toward the ocean, Gem watches him, taking in the straight line of his nose, the uneven stubble along his jaw, like he hasn’t shaved in a couple of days.
He doesn’t try to talk to her again and it’s easy enough to ignore him as Gem takes another drink of water and fixes the hair that’s slipped out of her ponytail.
Slowly, she inhales, letting the sea air fill her lungs, the distant sound of waves hitting the cliffs still soothing even after all this time, this many visits.
She folds at the waist, reaching down for her ankles and letting her muscles stretch now that they’re warm. It feels good — like the run back to her car will be enough to keep her stress at bay for a few sweet hours.
She hangs there for a count of thirty and then slowly pulls herself back upright. The man’s watching her, though he glances away when she notices, and she wonders if he’s been staring the whole time.
She stares at the side of his head for a long moment, knowing he’ll sense it, wanting him to feel awkward and ashamed. She watches him swallow, watches him bring a hand up to scratch at his stubble, and she finally gives in and turns back toward the forest.
There’s no point lingering just to be ogled.
She pulls up her phone to restart her music, ready to disappear into the trees again.
“Gem,” someone says and she freezes, thumb still hovering over the play button.
When she glances back over her shoulder, the man at the bench is standing, attention focused on her.
“Hey, Gem,” he says in a voice so familiar it makes her feel weak.
She blinks, and then blinks again, half wondering if she’s somehow dreaming, but the man moves closer, smiling like he doesn’t mean any harm.
“Sorry if I scared you,” he says and Gem can’t figure out why Etho’s voice is coming out of him.
She takes a shaky breath and tucks her phone into her pocket. “Etho?”
“Hey, Gem,” he repeats and her thoughts spin without getting traction for a long moment before it finally clicks.
“Holy shit,” she says, and she’s moving before she realizes.
She launches herself at him and he makes a noise of surprise, but still catches her around the waist with one arm, his other hand grabbing at her thigh as she winds her legs around his middle. He’s taller than she expects and he holds her as though she weighs nothing.
“Etho,” she whispers, her cap slipping off as she presses her face into his throat. She doesn’t care — why would she when she has Etho right there. “You said it was too far to travel.”
“You kept sending me pictures of this place,” he murmurs into her hair. “I had to see it for myself.”
It feels like Gem’s heart might beat its way straight out of her chest as she clings to him, and she finds herself pulling back just to stare down at him.
He’s real and he’s with her.
She reaches up, cupping his face with her hands before she leans in and kisses him.
His grip on her briefly tightens and he lets out a noise of surprise, like he somehow didn’t expect that showing up like this would elicit this kind of response from Gem.
But his mouth opens under hers and she hums happily.
“Thank you,” she murmurs between frantic kisses, and Etho holds her tightly, returning every single one as though he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
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Could you do headcanons for what an ideal date for Aqua, Ruby, Ai, and Akane with their s/o?
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ──────
🄰🅀🅄🄰 🄷🄾🅂🄷🄸🄽🄾
• Aqua, being a lover of nature, would find his ideal date in the serene beauty of a peaceful park or garden. He would enjoy taking a leisurely stroll hand in hand with his S/O, surrounded by vibrant flowers and lush greenery. The scent of blooming blossoms would fill the air, adding a touch of romance to the atmosphere.
• During their walk, Aqua would cherish the opportunity to engage in deep conversations with his S/O. He appreciates meaningful connections and longs to share his innermost thoughts, dreams, and aspirations. As they meander along the winding paths, Aqua would eagerly listen to his S/O, cherishing the bond they share and finding solace in their understanding.
• For Aqua, a picnic would be the perfect way to spend quality time together. He would put effort into preparing a delicious spread of their favorite foods, carefully packing a basket filled with culinary delights. As they settle down on a cozy blanket under the shade of a towering tree, Aqua would savor every bite, relishing not only the flavors but also the joy of sharing the meal with his S/O. Laughter and lighthearted conversations would fill the air as they create lasting memories and strengthen their connection.
• As the day turns to dusk, Aqua's excitement would grow as he suggests ending the date with a captivating display of nature's wonders. Finding a spot away from city lights, they would lay back and gaze up at the night sky, mesmerized by the vastness and beauty of the cosmos. Aqua would point out constellations and share his fascination with celestial bodies, finding solace in the quiet moments spent together under the twinkling stars. The peacefulness of the night and the shared experience would make Aqua's heart flutter, knowing that he is sharing this magical moment with his S/O, the person who truly understands and appreciates his love for the cosmos.
• Aqua's ideal date would revolve around his love for nature. A peaceful walk in a beautiful park or garden, accompanied by deep conversations and shared dreams, would create an intimate and profound connection between Aqua and his S/O. A delightful picnic filled with delicious food would further strengthen their bond and create lasting memories. Ending the date with stargazing under the clear night sky would evoke a sense of wonder and enchantment, allowing Aqua to share his passion for the cosmos with his S/O.
🅁🅄🄱🅈 🄷🄾🅂🄷🄸🄽🄾
• Ruby, being a fan of arts and culture, would find her ideal date immersed in the world of creativity. She would love to spend the day with her S/O exploring an art exhibition or visiting a museum. As they stroll through the galleries, Ruby's eyes would sparkle with admiration as she takes in the intricate brushstrokes, captivating sculptures, and thought-provoking installations. She would share her own artistic aspirations and inspirations with her S/O, allowing them to understand her on a deeper level.
• To further ignite their creative spirits, Ruby would suggest taking a pottery or painting class together. As they mold clay or stroke paintbrushes across a canvas, they would share laughter and support, reveling in the joy of creating something unique. Ruby would find immense happiness in seeing her S/O's artistic side bloom, and their shared experience would strengthen their bond.
• As the day transitions into evening, Ruby would seek a cozy and intimate atmosphere for their dinner. She would choose a quaint café with a warm ambiance, where they can indulge in delicious treats and engage in meaningful conversations. Over cups of steaming coffee or plates of delectable desserts, Ruby and her S/O would share their thoughts, dreams, and aspirations, creating a safe space for vulnerability and connection.
• To conclude their date, Ruby would suggest a movie night, cuddled up together under a soft blanket. They would watch their favorite films, enjoying the comfort of each other's presence. As they share laughs, tears, and moments of suspense, Ruby would feel a sense of warmth and contentment, grateful to have found someone who appreciates both her artistic passions and the simple joys of being together.
• Ruby's ideal date revolves around arts, creativity, and meaningful connections. Visiting an art exhibition or museum allows her to share her passion for creativity with her S/O, while taking a pottery or painting class together creates an interactive and fun experience. Enjoying a cozy dinner at a quaint café provides an intimate atmosphere for heartfelt conversations. Ending the date with a movie night allows them to unwind and find comfort in each other's arms. Through these shared experiences, Ruby and her S/O strengthen their bond and create lasting memories filled with artistic inspiration and warm moments of togetherness.
🄰🄸 🄷🄾🅂🄷🄸🄽🄾
• Ai, with her appreciation for simple yet meaningful experiences, would find her ideal date in the tranquility of a quiet bookstore or library. She would delight in the hushed atmosphere as she and her S/O browse through the shelves, exploring the vast world of literature. They would recommend books to each other, sharing their favorite reads and engaging in thought-provoking discussions. Ai's eyes would sparkle with excitement as she discovers new stories and ideas, cherishing the moments of intellectual connection with her S/O.
• To continue the peaceful ambiance, Ai would suggest taking a serene walk by the beach or visiting a scenic spot. The rhythmic sound of crashing waves or the panoramic view of nature's beauty would create the perfect backdrop for Ai to open up and share her thoughts and emotions. She would find solace in the gentle breeze, finding comfort in the presence of her S/O as they engage in heartfelt conversations. Through these intimate moments, Ai and her S/O would deepen their emotional connection and strengthen their bond.
• For their next experience, Ai would appreciate a heartfelt home-cooked meal. The intimate setting of a cozy dining room or a candlelit patio would allow them to enjoy each other's company without distractions. As they savor the flavors of a delicious meal, prepared with care and love, Ai would feel a deep sense of contentment, knowing that she is sharing this intimate moment with her S/O. The simplicity of the setting would create a space for genuine conversations and a deeper understanding of each other's hopes, dreams, and aspirations.
• To conclude their date, Ai would suggest strolling through a local park, hand in hand with her S/O. They would immerse themselves in the beauty of nature, as they admire the blooming flowers, listen to the songs of birds, and feel the gentle touch of the wind. Ai would find tranquility in the peaceful surroundings, and the physical connection with her S/O would bring a sense of warmth and security to her heart. Together, they would create lasting memories as they explore the park, cherishing the simplicity and beauty of the moment.
• Ai's ideal date revolves around simplicity, meaningful connections, and appreciation for the small joys in life. A quiet bookstore or library visit allows her to share her love for literature and engage in intellectual conversations. A serene walk by the beach or a scenic spot provides an opportunity for heartfelt discussions and emotional connection. Enjoying a heartfelt home-cooked meal in an intimate setting deepens their bond. Ending the date with a stroll through a local park envelops Ai in tranquility and allows her to find solace and contentment in the beauty of nature and the physical connection with her S/O. Through these experiences, Ai and her S/O create a deep and meaningful connection, forging memories that will be treasured for a lifetime.
🄰🄺🄰🄽🄴 🄺🅄🅁🄾🄺🄰🅆🄰
• Akane, with her love for adventure and excitement, would find her ideal date in the thrill and adrenaline of an amusement park. The moment she steps foot into the park, her eyes would light up with anticipation as she eagerly takes on every ride and attraction. Riding roller coasters that twist, turn, and loop would make her heart race with joy, and she would hold onto her S/O's hand tightly, sharing both laughter and exhilaration as they conquer each thrilling experience together. They would indulge in playful competition at game booths, winning prizes for each other and reveling in the excitement of friendly rivalry. The energy and vibrant atmosphere of the amusement park would make Akane's heart soar as she embraces the adventure and creates unforgettable memories with her S/O.
• To satisfy Akane's love for good food and culinary experiences, she would suggest trying out a new and unique restaurant or exploring a food festival. Akane appreciates the flavors and textures of different cuisines, and she would eagerly delve into each dish, savoring every bite. Sharing their favorite dishes, exploring new flavors, and indulging in sweet treats would not only tantalize their taste buds but also deepen their bond as they share their culinary discoveries and preferences. Akane's eyes would sparkle with delight as she discovers hidden gems and unique gastronomic delights, making this part of the date a true feast for the senses.
• An active and physically challenging date would also be on Akane's agenda. She would suggest a hike through a scenic trail or a biking adventure in nature, where they can challenge themselves and immerse themselves in the beauty of their surroundings. Akane would appreciate the opportunity to engage in a shared physical activity with her S/O, experiencing the rush of adrenaline as they conquer challenging trails or navigate through winding paths. The natural surroundings would provide a serene backdrop for them to connect on a deeper level, sharing laughter, breathless moments, and a sense of accomplishment.
• As the day draws to a close, Akane would surprise her S/O with an unexpected activity. It could be an impromptu karaoke session, where they unleash their inner divas and sing their hearts out, creating memories filled with laughter and fun. Alternatively, a spontaneous dance class would get their bodies moving, allowing Akane to showcase her energetic and lively spirit. The surprise activity would bring a sense of anticipation and delight to Akane, as she loves embracing the unexpected and keeping the excitement alive.
• Akane's ideal date revolves around adventure, excitement, and shared experiences. A day at an amusement park allows her to indulge in thrilling rides and playful competition, creating unforgettable memories. Exploring new restaurants or food festivals satisfies her love for good food and culinary adventures. Engaging in an active date, such as hiking or biking, challenges her physically while strengthening the bond with her S/O. Ending the date with a surprise activity, like karaoke or a dance class, adds an element of spontaneity and keeps the excitement alive. Through these experiences, Akane and her S/O embark on a thrilling journey of adventure, laughter, and shared moments that bring them closer together.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ──────
#oshi no ko x reader#aqua hoshino x reader#adult ruby hoshino#ai hoshino x reader#akane kurokawa x reader
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Among All Other Delights (Yandere! Yagami Light x Reader)
Warnings: Yandere character, yandere behavior, manipulation, kidnapping, threats of starvation, compliant reader, etc.
Anonymous Request: Hihi, saw you did yandere Death Note. May I request yandere Light being stressed about L? His S/O he kidnapped comforts him. Also can Light be softer rather than an abusive jackass? Lol I'm a sucker for seing soft Light.
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You weren’t quite sure how Light managed it, but he somehow not only managed to kidnap you, but he also managed to evade his minders from the investigation that he was working on. You weren’t too sure how far up the ranks Light managed to climb (he was still a university student, right?), but the way he talked about it whenever he would visit, it would seem that he was working closely with his father and a high ranking detective. Like any other person in their right mind, you tried to pry as many details as you could out of him.
Who were they investigating?
What crimes were so heinous that they had to employ Light’s genius to help them?
What was so important that Light could only spare a few hours a day before he had to be called away?
Despite your questions, Light refused to answer them all. Well, it wasn’t outright refusal. Even when he was at his most cruel, Light still retained the boyish demeanor that was more befitting of that of a fresh university student instead of someone low enough to kidnap another person. Deflection and condescension seemed to be Light’s go-to method to rein you in. It was that or he would simply refuse to speak to you and cut your food rations in half.
You questioned him about the food and he had said that he did not see the point in starving you when he already had you in his grasp. It would be a waste of effort. He wanted you alive and compliant, not emaciated and clinging to life.
Well.
Even if he had kidnapped you and limited your mobility to the confines of the abandoned house that he had found years before, you could firmly say that he wasn’t a murderer.
Today, Light had decided to unchain you from the wall, a pleasant smile on his face as he helped you to your feet. Ever since you had become compliant to Light’s needs, he had been more than willing to let you stretch your legs nearly the entire time he would visit you. At first, the both of you merely strolled only a few feet in and around out the house, but when the both of you managed to reach an equilibrium in this strange, but ever present companionship, you began to opt to walk farther and farther into the woods.
Your thought process was simple: find out where you were and then escape.
It was that or come across another traveler in the strange wood and call out for help.
If Light were any lesser man or strategist, perhaps your methods would have worked.
What you couldn’t account for was that Light was meticulous because despite how many times you walked outside, you never knew where you were. Day in and day out, every minute you tried to grasp at the fragile facade of freedom, you could never gain your bearings. It was all the same; trees, grey sky, and Light’s domineering presence at your side.
If it were not for Light’s news about the outside world, you would have thought that you were stuck in purgatory.
Meandering around could have been excused as a way to get to know each other better (not like you needed to know more about Light, you just wanted to get out), but the both of you knew the truth of it.
You were looking for a way out.
You held no awards for great acting; it was quite obvious that despite how lax the rope that bound you to Light, your eyes were always cataloguing the background, always retracing steps and planning for the future.
Similarly, Light would guide you under the guise of a doting boyfriend. His hand would spread against the flat of your lower back and if you happened to stop for too long or if you tried to wander off in a certain direction, he would sternly steer you away. It was subtle, but the action told you more than his words were.
You might have looked like a couple on equal footing from the outside, but Light still retained control.
As Light offered you his arm (an act of chivalry that you gently teased him for), he placed a little paper bag into your waiting hand. You had heard it crinkling in his arms when he had first entered the house, but he had yet to reveal the contents of it. You had made no effort to ask after it because you knew that one way or another, Light was going to make sure you knew what was inside of it.
The last time Light had given you something, it was a cup of freshly brewed tea. You had been so surprised and overcome with emotion, that you allowed him to pull you into his lap while you nursed the beverage. It was a selfish act of false kindness, but you were so starved for the normal comforts of life that you drowned the little voice telling you not to fall for his blatant lies with the gift.
Since then, Light has offered you more material items as if to gain your favor.
Sometimes, it was a few textbooks that you would have been studying if you had stayed in university.
Other times, he would buy you a few articles of clothing reminiscent of the styles that you would usually wear.
Now, as you fingered the paper bag, you found that there were two pastries nestled at the bottom. You sniffed it and you felt your lips lift at the buttery smell of croissants filling your nose.
Light hugged you from behind, his nose settling into the nook behind your ear, causing you to shiver. Back when you had been first kidnapped, you would have thrown him off without so much as an apology. Today, you sighed in contentment and slowly leaned back. Warmth was a luxury you could barely afford; you could no longer care that it was Light offering such a comfort.
His breath brushed against the line of your jaw. “I tried to get them fresh, but the lead detective on the team was feeling particularly vindictive today.”
While Light remained close lipped about most of his dealings with the investigation that he was part of, something about this lead detective that he supposedly respected got under his skin. He tried to play it off like it was some sort of rivalry or burgeoning resentment (akin to a young rookie realizing that their idol shouldn’t be admired), but something deeper simmered underneath the surface. As much as you would like to say your kidnapper could be generous and kind at times, even you knew that it was a front.
Everyone had their limits.
And Light’s lead detective was pushing him towards his breaking point.
You sometimes forgot that he was nothing more than an aspiring university student intending on following in his father’s footsteps, but times like these really hit home for you. Irritation that he unsuccessfully tried to hide was made clear in the way his jaw tightened and the darkness in his eyes seemed to boil over. Later, when you would be alone and without the comfort of buttery croissants and Light, you would be disgusted by how normal this all seemed to you.
Despite yourself, you knew Light; you were paying attention to him and his moods.
Hesitant, but with purpose, you held his hand in one of your own. You used to marvel at how soft and delicate his hands were. These were the hands that pianists and typists envied. They were quick and slight; slender and well maintained. You would have never guessed that these hands could do such terrible things like kidnapping their friends.
“I don’t care about the croissants, Light.” A tremulous breath and a slow, unsure smile. “Besides, you’re here now. And that’s what matters.”
You watched in detached content as Light’s entire body seemed to deflate and relax. Had he been so on edge this entire time? No wonder you had been so willing to be led around all day. It sickened you; you were so well trained that you didn’t have to be conscious of how well you knew him.
“You’re right.” The hand that you were holding squeezed yours back, the pressure as light as a butterfly’s wing. You held your breath as Light brought your hand up to his lips before kissing the back of your knuckles in a slight brush that had you almost gasping for air. He seemed to laugh at that, his thumb brushing against your fingers. “I’m here now, so let’s relax while we’ve still got the time. Shall we?”
And just like countless times before, Light began to usher you around the woods, the hand on your back a gentle guiding presence that belied a nature that you only barely started to grasp.
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DISCLAIMER: I do not condone yandere behavior outside of fictional settings. Please don’t mistake the actions of fictional characters displayed in works of fiction to be considered harmless in real life.
If you want to donate a Ko-Fi, feel free https://ko-fi.com/devintrinidad.
DEATH NOTE MASTERLIST
#death note#dn#death note light#dn light#death note x reader#dn x reader#death note light yagami#dn light yagami#light yagami#light yagami x reader#yandere! light yagami x reader#gn! reader#gender neutral reader#gender neutral#yandere character#yandere#yandere behavior#yandere death note#yandere dn#dearestones#devintrinidad
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I posted 412 times in 2022
That's 412 more posts than 2021!
269 posts created (65%)
143 posts reblogged (35%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@lyralit
@mr-writes
@thelatinlibrarian
@annarts05
@riverselkiesing
I tagged 363 of my posts in 2022
Only 12% of my posts had no tags
#lyralit - 162 posts
#writerblr - 156 posts
#creative writing - 146 posts
#writers - 138 posts
#writing - 130 posts
#writblr - 128 posts
#writers block - 123 posts
#writing prompts - 117 posts
#writing ideas - 109 posts
#lovely person <3 - 96 posts
Longest Tag: 100 characters
#the streets of beijing spilled over with wandering crowds at one of their dynasty’s first victories.
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
traits turned sour
honest - insensitive
persuasive - manipulative
caring - overprotective
confidence - arrogance
fearless - cocky
loyalty - an excuse
devotion - obsession
agreeable - lazy
perfectionism - insatisfaction
reserved - aloof
cautious - skeptical
self loved - selfish
available - distractible
emotional - dramatic
humble - attention-seeking
diligent - imposing
dutiful - submissive
assertive - bossy
strategic - calculated
truthful - cruel
11,626 notes - Posted November 20, 2022
#4
ingrid sundberg's colour dictionary - writing help
See the full post
13,656 notes - Posted May 7, 2022
#3
switch up your verbs (part one) ~
walked
- hiked
- moved
- shuffled
- toddled
- sauntered
- ambled
- tiptoed
- meandered
- strolled
laughed
- chortled
- chuckled
- giggled
- snorted
- guffawed
- howled
- snickered
- shrieked
wanted
- ached for
- wished
- craved
- coveted
- fancied
- pined
- aspired
ran
- sprinted
- galloped
- scampered
- bolted
- trotted
- dashed
- raced
- jogged
jumped
- bounced
- hopped
- leapt
- hurtled
- vaulted
- barged
- bounded
14,902 notes - Posted June 24, 2022
#2
ꜱʜᴏᴡ, ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴛᴇʟʟ (ɪɪ)
fear
- open mouth
- backing away
- fake smiles
- hugging themselves
- long / dragged breaths
- rocking
jealousy
- snide remarks
- darting looks
- self-deprication
- visible judging
- folded arms
- arguing a fair point
hurt
- steadying breaths
- overly bobbing head
- teary
- anger
- trembling
- pressed lips
- insisting everything is 'fine'
lying (ticks)
- picking at nails
- touching hair
- licking lips
- laughing too loud
- avoids subjects
- won't meet eyes
worry
- reaching out physically
- pursing lips
- looking to others
- reassuring smiles
- looking you up and down
- tilted head
- sympathetic nod
shame
- will not meet eyes
- feet turned away
- teary
- desperate
- fidgeting
- begging
humiliation
- lashes back
- cheeks flush
- palms turn sweaty
- face frowns
-> brows scrunch, lips pull back
- teary
love
- looks for approval
- blushing / turning red
- clammy palms
- nervous around certain people
- laughs hard
- turning clumsy
- slip of thought
15,491 notes - Posted July 8, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
show, don't tell:
anticipation
- bouncing legs
- darting eyes
- breathing deeply
- useless / mindless tasks
- eyes on the clock
- checking and re-checking
frustration
- grumbling
- heavy footsteps
- hot flush
- narrowed eyes
- pointing fingers
- pacing / stomping
sadness
- eyes filling up with tears
- blinking quickly
- hiccuped breaths
- face turned away
- red / burning cheeks
- short sentences with gulps
happiness
- smiling / cheeks hurting
- animated
- chest hurts from laughing
- rapid movements
- eye contact
- quick speaking
boredom
- complaining
- sighing
- grumbling
- pacing
- leg bouncing
- picking at nails
fear
- quick heartbeat
- shaking / clammy hands
- pinching self
- tuck away
- closing eyes
- clenched hands
disappointment
- no eye contact
- hard swallow
- clenched hands
- tears, occasionally
- mhm-hmm
tiredness
- spacing out
- eyes closing
- nodding head absently
- long sighs
- no eye contact
- grim smile
confidence
- prolonged eye contact
- appreciates instead of apologizing
- active listening
- shoulders back
- micro reactions
38,932 notes - Posted June 20, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
#tumblr2022#year in review#my 2022 tumblr year in review#your tumblr year in review#<33#lyralit#hoping to post more in December but lately it's been dry
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What are we
This took SO fucking long, but I hope it's still an enjoyable read! I left it open ended to leave things up to the reader on how Stan replies, I thought it'd be a fun little angle to take. Sorry again for taking so long!
Asked for by: @yumiko0987
What if he moved on? Were we even an item? You mused, watching the third day of Taiju's wedding from the edge of the crowd. Watching everyone dance and drink and celebrate while the energetic brunette seemed just as happy to marry his bride as the first time.
Everyone was bursting with joy like party poppers on new years, love was in the air, it was a wonderful day. And yet, you couldn't help but angst over the day. We were friends at least, I know that, but he was worlds closer with Xeno. Maybe Stan's more into him? I mean, we were childhood friends, but I still came into his life after Xeno. And, of course, the perfect answer to that question would include you being the one walking down the aisle. Being wed to the elegant marine that had occupied your dreams and heart since childhood. Yet, that wasn't for you to choose.
So, in the end, you could only sigh and leave the buzzing bubble of celebration to try and clear your head with a walk.
"Get ahold of yourself," You ordered into the air as you strolled, letting your head fall back so you could look up at the perfectly blue sky. As if the world itself was celebrating with the happy couple. "All I have to do is ask. I'm sure Stan would understand why I'd be unsure on our status after so long. Just gotta find him, and ask." you continued, the simple framing of the task, just ask! it's no biggie, giving you a small ember of confidence in your chest. No matter the answer, it wouldn't make your friendship with Stan weird, at least. Right?
So, you set off from your mindless meandering to search out your old childhood friend. Trying with each step to keep that small ember from being washed away in the waves of cold, stubborn nerves in your belly. Yet, when you did finally find the tall, silver-haired marine lost in thought, smoking on a bench at the edge the growing stone-age city, there was no hope to save the burst of courage from being swept away in the tight feeling of anxiety climbing up your throat. Shit, this is such a bad idea. How do I compete with Xeno? Even if we did get together, I'd be second in the priorities.
"Oh, hi there." Stan hummed, his captivating voice snatching you out of your nervous spiral. "Why aren't ya at the wedding? Finally tire of the booze and cake?" You shook your head vigorously at that, already feeling your cheeks heating up.
"Oh, uh, no. just...wanted to come find you." You answered, receiving a hum in response.
"Why'd ya want to come find me? I've celebrated, I doubt I'm wanted back that badly." He pointed out with a snort. The reminder of your friend's crimes making you wince a little bit, but you shook your head again.
"I just had a question, I wasn't going to drag you back to the wedding party." And that got you an eyebrow raise, but he left you ample opening to ask said question. So, you spent a long moment just broiling in popping nerves and skittish thoughts until you finally reminded yourself, He wouldn't care. Just ask, real simple.
So, with a deep breath in, and out. You spoke,
"Stan, what exactly are we? Relationship-wise."
#Stanley snyder x reader#dcst#dr stone#Stanley snyder#ask#dm ask#x reader#I try to direct people to the ask box for simplicity#but I'll still take the occasional ask from dms even if they don't end up sending an ask#asks an ask
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There are several parts of this AU that I’ve been really looking forward to posting, several of them that I have written out already despite being out of order. This is one of them! (^.^) hope you guys enjoy!!
@hobiesgender @royallydivinelesbian
Masterlist
After the breakfast rush, which Hobie roped Michael into helping with, Gwen and Peni showed up to take over for them. Hobie pulled Michael to the side, giving him some of the food he’d saved for them, and keeping an eye on the girls as they dished out food.
Hobie had to hit the market afterwards, though, so once they’d finished eating he’d given Michael the option to stick with the girls or come with him. Michael decided to follow him around a bit, so Hobie brought him with him to the market. They meandered around it, Hobie pointing out various food stalls and people, but ultimately Hobie got what he needed; not only that, but since Michael had decided to come along with him, he actually had the help he usually didn’t have when he made his rounds through his community.
Mrs. Aguilar, first, then Mr. Jones, and after that Ms. Bee; all the elderly in the community that were too old to do their own shopping but had no family to take care of them. Hobie checked on all of them at least, Michael trailing behind him silent and wide eyed the entire time.
After that it was late enough, so Hobie took him to the boat by the dried up riverbed to meet the crew, which led them to here: finding shelter for the night that wouldn’t end with them caught on their back foot with the guards in the morning. The building they were considering right now was brick and mortar, though the brick was starting to crumble, and some of the windows were cracked. Hobie and Gwen locked eyes with each other for a moment before holding out their fists, hovering them above an open palm before smacking it down three times. There was the slightly echoing sound of skin slapping on skin in the darkness of the alley they were currently hiding in, all of them.
The impromptu round of rock, paper, scissors ended with Hobie pulling paper and Gwen flashing scissors at him. He tilted his head back when she stuck her tongue out at him, but rolled his shoulders and strolled as casually as he could across the street.
Building wasn’t too big, maybe three stories max, and he swept the outside of it to check there weren’t any working cameras before ducking inside of it.
Hobie looked around the abandoned building, doing a thorough sweep of the three floors quickly and quietly to make sure nobody else was there. It was completely empty, as he’d thought it would be, and so he made his way back outside to gather his people. They hadn’t moved from where he’d left them, chatting quietly in the alleyway.
“All clear.” He hissed at them. “Let’s go before we get caught.” They shuffled into the building quickly, Michael detaching himself from Gwen to stand by Hobie again as they all made their way to the second floor (it was safer that way, easier to get an early warning and a head start if the guards did happen to catch them squatting in an empty building for the night). He still looked a little lost, a little confused, but he’d had the same sort of look on his face practically all day; he had to have come from a richer kingdom, and Hobie wondered what that was like for all of five minutes before putting it out of his mind. Hobie threw his arm around him instead, trying to erase the look on his face. Ruffling his hair to make him laugh, Hobie gestured to the room at large with his free hand. “Welcome to home base for the night.”
“Just the night?” Michael asked him, and Hobie shrugged his shoulder in response.
“Maybe two or three, a week if we can stretch it.” He said flippantly; he grinned over at Michael. “Best not to stay too long, though, gives the guards the chance to catch up and catch us, yanno?” Michael looked a little sad at that, a little concerned, and Hobie shoved his shoulders to get him moving. “C’mon, go find a spot to sleep ‘fore all the good ones get picked.”
“I got first watch!” Gwen called out from her spot by the window; she was curled into it in a way that meant she could see the door and still see outside of the dirty glass pane beside her. Hobie called out in response to her statement, laughed as he passed a grumbling Margo who by default got the second watch, checked that the rest of the crew was settling in all right, and then lifted an eyebrow down at Michael, who had stuck to his side and hadn’t left it at all.
“Where are you sleeping?” He asked him.
“I like sleeping outside, mostly.” Hobie pointed upwards, and Michael followed him up the stairs to the rooftop. It was a cool night, crisp but not cold, and Hobie threw his arms out and stretched as the door closed softly behind them. The rooftop had a convenient alcove, like a little shed which Hobie made a beeline to and Michael followed behind.
He wrenched the door open, peering around inside of it. It looked like a small room, with a window to the side of it, and not much else in it. Muttering a quiet ‘fuck yea’, he stepped into it and circled around it. It was dusty, just a bit, but looked mostly clean and was empty of anything else. He settled into the corner by the door, where he could see out the window, and Michael sat next to him. Something caught his eye as they got comfortable, and he glanced up only to stop short at what he saw.
“Look at that.” Hobie said softly, staring out into the distance of the window. They were apparently close enough to see the Palace itself, sitting slightly higher than the wall surrounding it, the windows mostly dark except for a few lights here and there. “Closest I’ll ever be to royalty, right at this spot.” Michael laughed uncomfortably, shifting slightly in his spot next to Hobie, and he threw his arm around the kid’s shoulders without thinking. “Ever wonder what it’s like to be stuck in that thing all day?”
“I dunno.” Michael said softly. “Gotta be boring, right?”
“Hm.” Hobie scoffed. “I doubt it. All that money that goes to those pricks?” Michael stiffened up a bit, and Hobie jostled him to set him at ease. “No mics, no cams here, kid. No one to hear me talk treason about the Royals, y’know.”
“I know that, but…” Michael sighed, pulling his knees to his chest and staring out at the palace with a forlorn look on his face. He looked so small, Hobie thought, and found himself wanting to protect this kid with his life. It was a little startling, how quickly he worked his way into Hobie’s little band; they’d barely met the kid less than twelve hours ago, and Hobie in particular wasn’t one to get attached quite so quickly, but, somehow, he had.
Kinda scary, to be honest.
“I just think that…it’s probably lonely?” He continued. “Like, everyone’s watching you, all the time. You gotta act a certain way, be a certain way. No room to breathe or feel anything you shouldn’t. Decisions are made for you, not with you, and…”
“Hey.” Michael blinked rapidly and turned to Hobie, staring up at him with wide eyes. Sort of like he hadn’t meant to say all of that, but it had sort of come out anyway without his permission. Hobie found himself wondering, for the first time, if the kid had come from the castle. Like, the actual castle in front of them, not some imaginary one from far away. Big place like that, had to have lots of servants. It added up, if he was stuck inside the castle his whole life, he had no idea how bad it could be out here. Hobie was really gonna have to look out for him if he was planning on running with Hobie’s crew. He smiled gently at him, putting his hand on his hair again. “You made it out, mate. No need to be worrying about all a that anymore. You’re free.”
“Free…” Michael repeated it softly, and then smiled brightly. “You’re right. Thanks, Hobie.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Hobie nudged his head, settling back into the wall again. He pulled Michael into his side, letting the kid lean into him and get comfortable. “Go to sleep, got lots of plans for tomorrow.”
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One Day, Perhaps
So this little thing is a birthday present to one of my favourite humans here. You did, of course, give me the idea for this way back in elriel month but life got in the way of writing it sooner…
So, here you go dear @offtorivendell !! I hope you love this little piece of pure fluff. Happiest of birthdays to you, my lovely friend 💕 This is for you…
Elriel. Fluff. 1.3k words
Azriel stood behind Elain as she bent over to clip a rose from one of the bushes that lined the gravel footpath winding through the gardens of Feyre’s veritable palace. The surface of the sparkling river beyond shone as they meandered along the banks of the Sidra, reflecting the sun as it made its decent once again toward the horizon.
Elain’s thick, golden-brown hair was gathered into a braid that snaked down her spine, leaving her creamy neck exposed to the sun that was beating down on them in the early afternoon. Stretching out and angling his wing just so, Azriel used the membranous limb to shield her pale skin from getting sunburnt.
Noticing the shadows that muted the suns rays from heating her skin, she turned toward him from where she knelt, gifting him with a little smile that made his heart stutter a beat.
It wasn’t the first time he’d used his wing to shield her from the harsh rays of the summer sun. In fact, he did it most times he accompanied her on a walk through the gardens, Elain not being able to help herself without gathering her skirts in her hands and stooping down to pull out a wayward weed or clip a blooming rose to display in the house or gift a friend. But every time he did so, every single time he gave her that little reprieve from the sun, she quietly thanked him with that smile. That stunning smile that rendered his legs useless for several moments and threatened to send him careening to his knees before her.
Rising from her crouch, she placed the long-stemmed rose in the wicker basket Azriel held for her along with the others. She’d declared she wanted a new floral arrangement to brighten up the foyer and the garden was a riot of colour in the height of summer.
Looping her arm in his, they continued their walk, Elain chattering happily as they leisurely strolled through the grounds of the River manor, Azriel just letting her talk and interjecting where appropriate. He loved listening to her talk. Only around him was she so loquacious. He supposed she thought the same of him, considering others rarely got to see the more verbally outward version of himself as Elain did. But he savoured the press of her small hand on his bicep, her melodious voice as she spoke of the happenings around Velaris and her plans for the garden come autumn.
He companionably continued following her around the grounds like a shadow, pausing beside her as she spotted flowers she wanted to add to her bouquet. She was bent over her dahlia bushes, partially hidden in the shade of a large oak tree when the beat of leathery wings, much less scarred and smaller than his own, sounded from above them.
Looking up just in time, Azriel watched as Nyx fearlessly flung himself off a high branch of the tree and swooped down towards them, his wings fluttering behind him in an effort to catch the current. The look on his chubby little face spoke of pure mischief and his violet eyes sparkled, so like his fathers.
“Nyx!”
Scrambling to catch the toddler who had just dive bombed his aunt and uncle, Azriel dropped the basket, sending flowers hurtling in every direction as he latched onto Nyx before he could do serious damage to himself.
At Azriel’s cry, Elain whipped around, her face morphing from fear to sheer delight as she realised her nephew was indeed not in mortal danger and just up to his usual schemes.
With a pealing giggle, Nyx wrapped his arms around his uncle’s neck, his grin splitting his face from ear to ear as he laughed at his own mischief.
“Did you see me fly, Unc Az?” Nyx asked excitedly, blissfully unaware he had almost caused the stoic Shadowsinger to suffer a heart attack with his flying. He was hanging off the back of Azriel’s neck like a spider monkey, his little face peering around to look curiously into his uncles’ face as he asked him his very important question.
“I saw you swoop me like an angry magpie, you little pest,” Azriel muttered beneath his breath, the corner of his lips lifting slightly as he tried in vain not to crack. Reaching for Nyx, Azriel hefted the three year old over his head and secured him in his arms against his chest.
Elain’s tinkling laugh alerted both Illyrian’s to her presence again, their eyes finding her lovely face in a devastatingly beautiful display of joy. Striding over to them, she smoothed down Nyx’s ruffled hair, kissing his forehead as he remained held aloft in Azriel’s arms.
“Are you being naughty again, Nyx?” Elain whispered conspirationally into the toddler’s face, her eyes alight with mirth.
“Unc Cass said to try surprise Az! He said he needs a-a… kick in his pants!” Nyx stuttered over the sentence as he worked to remember Cassian’s words, not fully appreciating their meaning.
“Oh, he did, did he?” Azriel muttered darkly as Elain stifled a giggle behind her hand.
“I’ll show him a kick in the pants,” Azriel grumbled, his eyes narrowing as his mind raced with all the ways he was going to pay back his brother.
Elain just laughed again, taking Nyx from Azriel’s arms and handing the Shadowsinger the basket in return, full of her clipped flowers once more after she’d collected them off the ground.
Azriel watched Elain fuss over Nyx as they started their walk again, the toddler tucking his face into his aunts’ neck, his little arms wrapping as far as they could reach around her frame. He watched as Nyx settled in his aunts’ embrace, lulled into a serene idleness by her calm demeanour and intoxicating scent. He couldn’t help but think the entire scene looked so…natural.
For someone like Elain, the idea of domestic bliss seemed so fitting. He was almost certain one way or another, it would find her, if that was what she wished. If anyone was fitting of motherhood, it was Elain.
“Do you want one?” Azriel blurted before he could think better of it.
Elain’s eyes found his, the chocolate of her irises bright in the sun. Her gaze flicked down to Nyx’s little form, his legs dangling either side of her waist as she held him hitched on her hip before her eyes flitted back to his. Her eyes had softened as they beheld her precious nephew, the adoration she felt toward him evident in the slight crinkling of the corners.
A knowing little smile bloomed across her face before she responded, “I do, one day, perhaps. But for now, I’m happy.”
Azriel watched her hand smooth circles on Nyx’s back, careful to avoid his little wings. He watched the way she naturally knew how to care for him, provide him safety and love. Something most of his own childhood lacked, but in no way the fault of his own mothers’.
“Do you?” Elain asked shyly, her voice breaking through his reverie, before she continued, “…want one?”
He watched her interacting so effortlessly with the little youngling, some inherent Elain-esque instinct talking over. Watched the gentle hands she used to care for him, the soft whispers of love in every touch and embrace and spoken word. If he indeed were to ever have children, that’s all he’d wish for them.
Azriel looked at her unblinkingly, even his shadows stilling behind him as if they too were aware that this moment in his life would indeed turn out to be one of great importance. “If I were one day to be granted the opportunity to be blessed in such a way, it would truly be an honour.”
Elain blinked up at him slowly, digesting his words, understanding blooming between the two of them with such ease. It was always so easy, with her.
She nodded; her lips set in a small smile before averting her gaze to their path ahead, a slight blush creeping up her cheeks.
“You will,” she uttered in no uncertainty, continuing their walk as Azriel fell into step beside her. The comfortable silence enveloping them once more.
He exhaled deeply, a weight he wasn’t aware pressing in on his chest loosening, beginning to slowly unravel. He believed her.
*******
tagging: @offtorivendell @fawnandshadows @the-laughing-bubble @swankii-art-teacher @pagemasters @tswaney17 @sakurakittypeach @thefangirlofhp @wingedblooms @alwayssara @ultadverb
#t writes#acotar fanfiction#azriel fluff#elain archeron#nyx#elriel fanfic#elriel#azriel#acotar#elain x azriel#azriel shadowsinger#elain#elriel fanfiction#acotar fluff#elriel fluff#my writing#pro elriel
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Time to meet my character. And also the other one, I guess.
My colors are cooler than his. Nyeh!
In seriousness, Valere and Zale both have killer portraits. Though the jagged upper edge of Zale's scarf makes it look like it's preparing to eat him.
That's a terrible idea, Zale. You want us to explore an unknown wilderness in separate directions and then when we find something... what? Yell really loud and hope the other one's aimless nature meandering hasn't taken them out of earshot?
I don't know, maybe we have mystical methods of communication but then we'll still be left trying to offer navigational advice like "I think I took a left at a rock?"
Sometimes games let you pick a character to play and then quickly sideline the other for the duration of the plot. Resident Evil comes immediately to mind. I'm sure Sea of Stars has no intention of doing that but it would kill me if the non-selected character just ended up lost in the wilderness for the duration of the game. XD
OH SURE, you take the easy flatland and leave me with the path that requires climbing up a ledge.
Well. Whatever else he may be, we know that a gentleman, Zale is not.
WHOA put the staff down, Valere. Look at his backpack. He might just be a traveling merch--
There are skulls decorating the backpack.
You know what, never mind. You're right. I'm wrong. Activate self-defense stick and wait to see if he makes the first move.
Not even "Goblin" or "Orc" or anything. Just. Wanderer. I'm having second thoughts about beating the shit out of this guy again.
I mean, I'll do it. I just don't feel good about it. I'm going to just focus on the skulls and try to assume we were being accosted by a bandit, and not a traveling vagrant who decorates his gear to try and ward off would-be assailants because life's tough when you're on the streets.
Have to climb a ledge and cross a rickety bridge. I hope Zale enjoys his pleasant stroll in the woods that seemed to be off in that direction.
Yes, I am petty.
On the plus side, that's definitely a previously-used campsite up there on that ledge. So we should be able to cross the bridge and then take a nice, relaxing walk up the hill to that bridge up there, which may connect us to--
I'm gonna put a thumbtack in his sleeping bag.
I got attacked by a rock bull, thank you for asking. It's like a regular bull. But made of rocks.
Oh, but the pleasant jaunt through the woods takes you to the well-used campsite. Great. I got mauled by a rock bull for nothing.
We weren't looking for the way to the top. We were looking for that campsite next to you. But sure, Zale's easy route not only takes him to the campsite I was trying to get to, but also to those delicious looking berries over there and also the way to our ultimate destination for good measure! Because life isn't fucking fair..
.... *deep breath* You're too nice to be mad at.
You know what, I take it back. This route isn't nearly as easy as it looked from a distance. Alright, Zale, I won't put a thumbtack in your sleeping bag.
The moral of the story is that assumptions make an ass out of u and mptions.
But I had to climb both sets of rocks so you're cooking tonight.
Credit where it's due, the writing for these two characters is strong. I don't know if they're supposed to be siblings or lovers or platonic besties or what. What I do know is, you can feel the history in their relationship. These two characters have been supporting each other with love and friendship for a long time.
The dialogue in Sea of Stars is already doing a great job of sounding organic. Valere and Zale don't stop to explain things because. Like. Why would they? They both already know what they're talking about. Instead, they convey hints of information through casual chatter and trust the audience to be smart enough to understand what they mean.
And painting in intrigue. Valere has regrets about a third person who should be here and isn't. Oooo, mysterious. I wonder what happened to--
Oh, I guess we're going to find out right now. Kinda thought they'd drag that out longer.
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• Obsession Unveiled •
A short collection of dark scenarios about being the object of their obsession.
Characters: Arlecchino, Dottore, Pantalone, Scaramouche [separately] x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Not-healthy relationship dinamics, consensual sexual themes - contains descriptions of marking, overstimulation, unprotected sex, size difference, etc - , mentions of possessive, obessesive, controlling and toxic behaviors. Read responsibly.
Author's notes: This is a repost so I can understand Tumblr's weird algorithm. (Just let my work reach people already bro)
Similar post: here. (Also to justify the tags of the non-fatui characters of this post)
Arlecchino ♦️♠️
She was captivating in her presence.
Her words, like sweet poison, had the power to sway the hearts and minds of those around her.
One fateful day, as you strolled along a meandering path, lost in your thoughts, you first met Arlecchino.
She stood at the edge of a cliff, her gaze fixed on the surrounding landscape.
The air around her seemed electric and her aura was intimidating, almost frightening.
Intrigued and oddly attracted by her striking presence, you approached her cautiously.
Little did you know this encounter would forever alter the course of your life.
She turned her piercing gaze towards you.
Her voice, a velvet whisper, beckoned you closer.
Mesmerized by her charm, your innocence and curiosity made you unable to resist.
A few steps and you were pulled against her.
She absolutely loved how vulnerable you looked.
How easily corruptible and breakable you soul was.
She could barely wait for the time she'd ruin you.
Meanwhile, your only thought was how your soul seemed to intertwine with hers, almost like she had some diabolic power above your feelings.
She needed a pawn.
And you were the best one she could find.
But you just needed her love and approval.
Like a pure butterfly encaged by the artful spiderweb, you trusted her with your life as you slowly became the object of her obsession.
She became your confidant, your guiding light in a world filled with darkness. A darkness that she often overstated about.
As the days passed, Arlecchino's grip on you tightened. She gradually inhibiting you from engaging with the outside world.
Persuading you to abandon the few friendships you had left and alienating yourself from the world, she tried to brainwash you to believe she was the only one you needed.
There was some twisted love between Arlecchino and you, but possessiveness and control tainted it.
Even if her manipulation had ensnared your heart, a flicker of resistance was still there, ready to snap if Arlecchino's plans crossed more of your boundaries.
If you were supposed to be nothing but a pawn…
Why was Arlecchino longing to make you feel safe, loved and respected, even if her behavior in your relationship wasn't the healthiest one?
Perhaps her heart wasn't dead, afterall.
Or maybe your love had healed part of her soul.
Did she fell in love without noticing?
♡ […]
You met her in secret at the fatuis' lair.
The lodge's library…
With long and dusted bookshelves and thick walls.
A locus that the harbingers barely paid attention to.
The perfect place to surrender to the most raw desires.
"Did my girl missed me?" Arlecchino sang mischievously, quickly locking the door behind her before going towards you with such slow steps you wondered what she was up to that night.
Her hand lifted your chin to meet her gaze.
Red flaming eyes carrying so much lust you could feel the atmosphere around you both getting dense.
Her thumb caressed your bottom lip as you tried to not break the eye contact with her.
"Master…" You whispered when her long nails traced the contours of your neck, collarbone and breasts from above the thin fabric of your dress.
"You're so submissive it hurts, my pet" Her quiet laugh against your ear sent shivers down your spine. "Tell me what you want from me"
"I want you to-" But she claimed your lips in a lustful kiss. She always earned the control and dominance, obliging you to follow her pace as she savored every second of your kiss.
"You want me to claim you…" Her tongue traced a path from your collarbone to the base of your ear. "You want me to fuck you senselessly" She whispered against your ear as she guided your body to lay down on the soft couch of the library.
"You need me remembering you that you're mine"
You pathetically assented to her words.
She was right once again.
Her touches were fervent and demanding.
Her kisses were embraced with a fervor that spoke about her untold love for you.
She explored your body with urgency: her love was intense and insatiable.
Her hands, guided by her desires, traced every inch of your exposed flesh
Your vulnerability and devotion always managed to awake a carnal hunger within Arlecchino's body.
It was a matter of time before she worn you out completely that night.
[…]
The sounds of your love was all over the attic as you two pushed the boundaries of pleasure.
A mix of moans and other soft sounds filled the air of the night, marking in your subconscious the strength of your connection.
In that cozy library, Arlecchino proved her love.
Marks of her passion covered your sore body.
You were lost in the moment, almost melting into your sleepiness as her nails caressed your hips.
Your intertwined bodies brought you the warmth and safety you craved for so long.
"Tired, my girl?" She asked before kissing your forehead with gentleness.
A simple gesture that made your heart flutter.
You assented, hiding your face against her neck.
"You did so good for me, my doll"
"Thank you, master" You mumbled before falling asleep in her embrace.
Dottore 🧪🩺
You could sense he wasn't the most sane person out there since your gaze met his for the first time.
Yet, you were so naive.
So painfully innocent and pure.
So dearly corruptible it ignited the most sinful persona of his.
Your new life as a test subject of Dottore was nothing like you had ever wished, yet why were you so attached and obedient to him?
Perhaps some of his very own perversion had finally found its way into your being.
Dottore was controlling.
So controlling you felt overwhelmed, encaged.
Every single day he would spend hours checking upon you, reassuring himself you were still just like the way he left you before leaving his locus.
No one other himself could touch you.
No one other himself could have you as their own.
The doctor gaslighted you every day you only had him by your side.
Timr after time he made you believe that no one other than him loved or cared about you.
So how could you not trust him?
How could you not show devotion and obedience?
At least those virtues guaranteed you a softer personality of your master.
Trying to not be contaminated by his mad behavior or ideals would only make things worse.
He wasn't one to say he cherished you.
To him, serving as a pet whom he could use whenever he wanted or needed was the bare minimum you could do to the one who took you in.
Still, why did he hate the thought of losing you?
He despised the possibility of your permissive behavior was nothing more than falsehood.
But you were his.
You were there on the same spot for him every single time he came back.
You never tried escaping his hands.
You never disobeyed him, even if that obedience was fruit of fear and hopelessness.
You were finally his and that was the only thing that mattered.
♡ […]
You were still dizzy from sleep when the man slowly opened the door of the laboratory you were kept.
"My pet… Any discomforts from the last test?"
You blinked a few times, trying to make your blurry vision focus on his face.
He wasn't using any masks.
Nothing covered the weird smile he had on his lips.
"I'm… I'm okay" Was what you whispered, wanting to hide from him but staying still to not awake the worse of him.
You never knew what he was up to.
It could be him simply visiting you to share a few moments of kisses and soft touches or him using you as a toy in an almost insane research.
"Does your body hurt, my little angel?"
You shivered when his cold hand touched you thigh.
"Just a bit, but I'm okay"
His red eyes explored some of the marks he had left on your body the last time you had sex.
"You don't have to lie" His hand gripped your sore wrist tightly enough to gain a whimper from you. "Are you willing to be mine once again?"
You kept silent.
Sure, it would overwhelm your body.
But how could you deny anything to him?
You assented right before he stole a kiss from you.
[…]
"Dottore?" Your face was hid against his neck as you breathed the weak traces of cologne: the amber notes almost fading after hours of having you over and over again.
"Yes…?"
"Am I a good pet?"
His sharp teeth appeared on his smile.
"The best one someone could ever wish for"
Pantalone ♟️
His personality was captivating and his appearance was alluring.
His soft smiles and graceful aura made you feel sheltered after so many harsh years.
Pantalone wasn't really an intimidating one as you once thought. Or was he only able to hide the darkness within him with efficiency?
Afterall, why such centered and polite man would align his ideals to such organization as the fatui?
Trusting devoting your life to someone you barely knew was perilous.
You weren't sure about what his true intentions were, after all.
But the confidence in his words whenever he whispered he would be enough for you…
The promises he made you after every kiss and night you spent together…
The reassurance and safety he brought to your shattered heart…
Those were more than enough for you to believe he was being sincere.
Time revealed a controlling facade of his.
Still, the love between you both was intense and passionate, even if that costed some freedom.
His will of protecting you from anyone or anything was his form of showing he truly cared about you.
Pantalone was always by your side, influencing your decisions and manipulating the consequences so his control over you was camouflaged as 'worry of losing you to someone or something'.
'Is true love controlling and almost suffocating?' Was a thought that crossed your mind every time your relationship became too much for you to handle. A thought that would always - oh so soon - fade away due your devotion towards the man who showed you deserved love.
♡ […]
"I couldn't imagine a life without your light" His gloves felt soft against your cheeks. "I'm grateful you're mine, my doll"
You pulled him to a kiss.
How else could you even answer such confession?
"I missed you" Those words left your lips as nothing more than a whisper while you straddled his lap. "I despise having you away for so long"
"I'm aware my services for the fatui don't have your approval" His hands were finally free from the gloves as you felt them against the skin of your back. "But leaving their side is out of question"
"Pantalone…" You sighed, frustrated.
"Forgive me for bringing the subject up. Perhaps you just need to be claimed as mine after all this time" Soon enough his hands gripped your waist, guiding your movements so he could finally found his way inside you. A whimper left your lips as you grew familiar with the sensation you missed so much.
He made you aware of how deep inside of you he was by guiding one of your hands to feel the bulge formed against your belly.
"After all this months together you still struggle while taking me inside of you…" He smiled when you hid your face against his neck. "Oh I made you shy?"
You couldn't help but squirm when his cold fingers reached your clit, brushing circles against such sensitive spot with the ease only the man who knew your body with the back of his hands could have.
"Just make me forget everything as you make me yours time after time this night" You marked his neck with a hickey before finishing your line. "Remember me who I belong to until dawn"
"As you wish, my good girl"
Scaramouche 🎴
He despised the fact that a being like him - with such rage, resentment and hatred nurtured inside of him during ages - was capable of loving someone so dearly much he would sacrifice anything if that meant he could have the one he loved.
'Love is just a camouflage to what resembles rage' Was the thought that made him feel less vulnerable when it came to loving and needing you.
You first met him as Scaramouche, the 6th harbinger of the fatui. Not Wanderer, not Kunikuzushi or any other persona of his.
You found him in the heyday of his insanity.
Still, why did he suddenly felt the urge to give up on his revenge so he could call you his?
Were you any different from the people he had met in the past?
Would you love him regardless of his selfish acts and decisions?
Would he finally experience love after being betrayed and abandoned?
Scaramouche decided you were worth the effort.
His behavior was paranoic.
He wasn't so controlling as he wished.
Still, he influenced many of your steps.
He often thought you would leave anytime.
He couldn't support the possibility of losing you.
He needed stability: he just wanted to be sure you would be there for him any time, any day.
You both belonged together in every scenario of his.
♡ […]
His mind was driving him insane.
He shouldn't have let you go out for yourself.
Why did him even bother providing you some sense of freedom? It was perilous.
Would you even return to him after leaving for some days to visit those who love you?
He was almost sure you would abandon and betray him like they did before.
Would you prove him you weren't any different from the people he met in the past right in the first opportunity you had?
He felt so human like he never did.
Agony was all over him, mouth dry with discomfort and despair made him sick.
The thought of losing you was unbearable.
You were the only one he had.
How could life take you from him too?
Scaramouche was so lost in his own daydream he barely listened to your arrival.
"I'm home" You said softly, closing the door behind you. But no answer came from anywhere. "Scaramouche?"
You found him on the couch, soon enough noticing his state: dark eyebags, messy hair and an aloof gaze. Such a pale skin he looked sick and he had lost some weight for his clothes were loose.
You heart ached at that sight.
Was all of that fear of abandonment?
A heavy sigh left his lips when he heard your voice. It felt like a crushing weight had been taken away from his shoulders.
"You came back, afterall" He mumbled.
"Sure I did… Why wouldn't I, love?"
Those last four letters brought tears to his eyes.
You loved him.
You would never leave him.
You proved you truly cared about him.
"Hey, come here" You helped him get up from the couch before pulling him close. "I would never leave you, Scaramouche. I'm different from them"
His hug felt genuine for the first time.
"Please tell me you're still mine" He whispered.
"I'm yours" You kissed him shortly. "Till my last day"
[…]
Your hands roamed each other's bodies - clothes weren't a problem anymore for they had been taken away it's been a while - rediscovering the contours and curves that had once been so familiar.
You stood before him, vulnerable and exposed.
So ready to be claimed, so ready to be marked as his in the filthest ways possible.
He guided you towards the bed, laying you down gently as if you were a fragile work of art.
He traced a trail of kisses down your neck, his teeth grazing your collarbone, earning a soft moan from deep within you.
Your fingers clawed at the sheets, shivering in anticipation as his lips made their way down, exploring every inch of your body with devotion.
You squirmed under him when his lips reached your clit, sucking it with the right amount of pressure so you could melt against the mattress.
His tongue savoured every inch of your sex, collecting some of your essence before he could swallow it with satisfaction.
Oh the taste he had craved for so long…
Having you all to himself after weeks without your presence was the closest thing to paradise he had ever experienced.
Your hands left the sheets so you could play with the soft indigo locks as your high approached.
"I missed you so much…" He whispered more to himself than to you as he stopped his ministrations.
The pillow he put under your hips was your clue that he would finally fuck you raw.
He craved more, and you were eager to oblige.
His hand found its way between your thighs once again, testing the wetness that had been pooling inside your core.
He positioned himself above you, his eyes meeting yours in a silent agreement before his first thrust.
Scaramouche could spend hours on end claiming you if that meant he'd reassurance himself you were completely his once again, under his vigilance.
#genshin x reader#genshin fanfic#arlecchino x reader#arlecchino#scaramouche x reader#scaramouche#dottore x reader#dottore#pantalone x reader#xiao x reader#albedo x reader#ayato x reader#venti x reader#genshin scenarios#genshin imagines#genshin impact scenarios#genshin x y/n
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Ch. 57- Home Is Where Your Heart Is
She looped the conversation in her head, over and over as though repeating it enough times would allow her to somehow change the outcome.
"I'm gonna go clean out my apartment a bit today, I think..."
She remembered the way Makima's face lit up, the woman was getting worse at hiding her excitement, or maybe less afraid to?
"Want me to come with?"
Her tone should have been a clue, desire shrouded in only the thinnest veil of propriety, a desperation practically oozing from her tongue, and yet...
"N-no, that's okay... I know you're busy with work s-so... I figured I'd just go by myself"
She didn't fully process the conversation until the words had already left her, and the momentary flicker of despondence washed across the woman's expression. She adjusted her mask, back to the professional smile she wore around strangers, as if she'd lost her own, or perhaps simply couldn't put one a more convincing lie. Kobeni saw the damage she'd done in an instant, of course, but by then it was too late. She wanted to speak up, reach a compromise or clear up some misunderstanding, but all she could do is look at her, and think of how hurt she looked in that moment, and nothing she could think to say felt right to speak.
The memory alone made her nauseous, the clinging aches in her abdomen as she meandered home. Was it still her home? That was another thought she hadn't spared in some time, if ever. It's where she lived, technically speaking anyway, she still paid rent for the place even if she hadn't slept there in a while, it's where some of her things were, what else is there to a home? She pondered distractions before chastising herself for not feeling more guilty over what she'd done to Makima, and the anxiety returned. She'd wandered back into familiar streets, enough so that the memories returned, feelings she was once so use to that now seemed like putting on someone else's skin.
"Hey Kobeni, long time no see!"
A voice wrestled her from her melancholic maundering, she turned to face it and saw Himeno approaching her with a jaunty stroll.
"How've you be- are you okay?"
Her face seemed to shift to genuine concern when she got close enough to lay eyes on the girl, to which Kobeni wondered just how bad she must have looked to prompt such a reaction.
"O-oh y-yeah... I'm fine just... you know..."
She gesticulated, presumably under the pretense that it would somehow bring clarity to the conversation as Himeno politely nodded along.
"Hmmm, I see, relationship issues..."
"I- wh- n-no it's... I mean..."
It took her a moment to process Himeno's words, and the woman seemed to have already reached her own conclusions before hearing out the girl's rebuke. She place a hand on Kobeni's shoulder before donning her serious face.
"Listen, I've been there, alright? I get it... I'm here for you"
She wrapped herself around the girl in an awkward, one sided hug, managing to alleviate some of her anxiety, though more through confusion than compassion.
"A-actually... I was on my way to clean out my apartment... I haven't been there in... a while so..."
She pushed the woman off her with a polite if half-hearted smile, trying to make her way past and back on her way.
"I'll come with!"
The suggestion, or perhaps it was more accurate to say declaration, was enough to reignite the simmering pot of angst inside the girl's stomach. If she was wracked with guilt over shutting down Makima then inviting someone else in her stead would surely be worse. She turned her head, reading herself to decline the woman when she felt a hand once again clasp her shoulder. Himeno pulled her along, roughly in the direction of the girl's apartment before she could utter another word.
With a resigned twist of the lock followed by a firm nudge with her elbow she opened the door to her apartment. The musty smell of absence filled her lungs as she readjusted, like walking into sunlight from a darkened room. The place was as she'd left it more or less, the last time she'd been here was to pick up some clothes for her stay, what was left behind were non-essentials, and the things Makima already had.
"Feels weird to be back home like this..."
She muttered to herself, and to quell the silence between the pair before Himeno had the chance to blurt something out.
"Weird you still call this place home, don't you basically live with her now?"
The girl thought about her words for a moment, pondering the significance she put on the word, and the way she purposely avoided saying Makima's name.
"Well... I own... well... my landlord owns... but I pay the rent for this place, you know?"
Himeno waved her hand, brushing aside the statement.
"Sure, sure, not what I mean though, like, this place is your place, but when you think 'I'm going home' you don't think about coming here these days, do you?"
Kobeni paused, trying to internalize her meaning even if she didn't quite understand the inference.
"How... how do you know... when somewhere's your home?"
Himeno twirled around a plastic bag, filling it with miscellaneous objects she assumed were trash while uttering an audible hum.
"...I guess, somewhere you feel safe? Where you can just be you and not have to put on a show, just being you is enough, make sense?"
Familiar thoughts crossed the girl's mind, not of a place but of a person. She'd never really felt safe being herself, she'd spent so long hiding she wondered if there even was a self to her, but if there was a real person hiding in the mound of tangled strings there's only one she'd feel safe around.
"Y-yeah... I think so..."
She stared off at something that wasn't there with a calm smile on her face, the first one Himeno had seen all day, and one she remarked one with a triumphant grin. The girl seemed to snap from her trance and turn to her.
"Hey... thanks..."
She turned to the door with a worried but determined look, steeling her resolve for whatever was to come.
"I think... I wanna go home..."
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The fire has long gone out, Nakia and her son have gone back inside, leaving the princess alone with her thoughts and memories. The ashes smolder; Shuri picks at them absently with a stick though her attention is on the ocean in front of her. And strangely, she thinks of Namor. The man who came from the sea, the one who she both bonded with and destroyed, the one who hurt her as much as she likely hurt him. Her fingers run over the bracelet he’d given her as a token of being the only human to visit Talokan, saving it for reasons she couldn’t place. A feeling of warmth, appreciation maybe, that he unwittingly helped her people rebuild the heart-shaped herb, helped her bring back the Black Panther. The waves lap at the shore, crashing and foaming, and she thinks of the way he rose from the waters. First in the darkness when she could hardly see him by the firelight, then for war. And each time, there was something about him that commanded attention, centuries of building himself up.
Part of her wonders why he even wanted to align with them in the first place, considering the way Talokan was all on its own. Though then again, he didn’t quite have a choice in the end. Her stomach aches as a soft reminder of the cost the alliance drove her into, hand resting over it slowly as the end of the stick begins to char. Looking up at the darkening sky, she can already start to see the stars shining through unpolluted air, small pinpricks gazing down at her in turn. She knows the ancestors are watching through them, each pair of stars a pair of eyes watching her acts, watching the mistakes and triumphs. She can only hope that she’s brought more of the latter than the former.
The staring contest is broken when she hears the waves parting for something solid, splashing with measured steps. Her eyes fall upon a figure all too familiar, pushing his hand through cropped locks as he strolls out of the sea towards where she sat. Her eyes follow his path from the wet sand to dry, his bandaged foot the only show of weakness in him as he meanders to her side, dropping down to sit beside her. His arms rest upon bent knees, his proximity leaving little space between them; something she wondered if was intimidation techniques or just him not feeling the need to give space to people.
“Namor.” She greets, and he lifts his head slightly.
“Shuri.” His voice is soft. “What were you doing out here?”
“Burning my funeral clothing. To signify the end of the mourning period.” She looks to the ashes, stirring what once was pristine white fabric reduced to charred grains.
He merely makes a noise of acknowledgement, but she can feel his eyes on her. Was there something he wanted? She feels the urge to speak, but couldn’t find the words to begin.
So they sit in silence for countless minutes, the only noise being the breaking waves on the shore.
Namor is the first to break it. “How is your stomach?”
Shuri’s hand was still resting upon it. “Feeling like a spear went through it. How is your ankle?”
“Feeling like my wing was ripped off.”
They share a smile only people who battled each other viciously could, and Shuri can’t help but look over his features. And she blurts: “I wanted to save her, you know.”
Those gorgeous features wrinkle with clear confusion, inclining his head to indicate that he wanted her to elaborate. So she does.
“The woman who. . .didn’t survive. I wanted to save her. The whole. . .all of this started because of a rescue mission I never asked for--I wanted to save that woman. Talokan is beautiful, Namor, your people are beautiful and this could have been avoided. All of it.” She pauses, feeling a wave of melancholy washing over her. “The could haves keep running through my mind.” She looks away, out at the sea again. “All of the violence, it could have been avoided.” With the clarity granted by hindsight, she could see exactly where everything went wrong. And she should havesaid that she was willingly going to him, and yet the urge to protect the scientist was stronger than rational thought. Diving in headfirst, trying to talk to him herself, trying to fix things had led to everything falling apart.
She doesn’t know tears are dripping down her cheeks until a caress is wiping them away, a large hand cupping her chin and guiding her to look at him.
“Oftentimes war is senseless, Shuri.” His voice is just as soft. “But the knowledge that your intentions were better than I expected makes it even moreso.” His thumb makes slow passes on her cheek, gaze steady. “You’re wearing my mother’s bracelet.”
“Your token means a lot. I’m appreciative of the gift, and being close to the sea made me think of you. Of this.” Her fingers run over the beads slowly, feeling the soft thrum answering her own body’s hum. “Plus it’s pretty.”
A soft chuckle as his hand drops, leaving her with an empty feeling that only he could fill. So it’s her turn to lean until her head settles on his shoulder, the curve untouched by the necklace he wears. He stays perfectly still, and it’s another comfortable silence they lapse into as the sun finally dips into the horizon.
“It looks good on you.” He breaks the silence once more and she lifts her head, looking to him. And he’s so close to her, gaze snagged on her mouth before dragging up to meet her eyes. All at once, she knows what he’s thinking of and it hits her like a brick that she wanted it, too. The man who killed her mother, the man that raged war on her people, he was leaning towards her and she shut her eyes, allowing his lips to meet hers.
It’s soft and brief before he draws back, making her brows furrow with brief irritation. “More.” A simple demand as she turns her body, hands coming up to cup his cheeks and pulling him back against her. His facial hair rubs against her smooth skin, tickling her palm and yet she can’t stop herself from leaning in more, firmly against his mouth. His breath is deep as a large hand presses into the small of her back, dragging her until her thigh is flush to his. They part again, much to her annoyance and she gives a huff.
“Shuri.” She opens her eyes to show attention, and his expression is unreadable. “You-” He starts, but she curls her fingers into his hair and she pulls him in again, effectively silencing him once again. A low rumble sounds in his throat, another large hand resting on the nape of her neck as he pulls *her* in closer, causing her to gasp quickly against his mouth. And he leaps on the opportunity like a predator, a shockingly warm tongue meeting hers and she jolts at the sensation. It’s new, unlike anything she’s done, and her stunned state lets him stake claim of her mouth before he pulling back again, holding her against his chest. Nearly crushing, but he knows his own strength and she knows he wouldn’t hurt her, not in this manner.
“Namor, think of it as sealing our alliance. I am still mad at you.” It’s unconvincing but it makes him laugh anyway, rolling his eyes.
“You’re the one who won’t let me get away. A fish in your net.” A dangerous purr that makes her shiver, lips meeting once more as he takes her further into his arms, practically laying her in his lap for better access to pull her in. And she fully lets it happen, the affection a soothing balm to help distract from the torrent of emotions that stemmed from their own conflict. Her hand drops to his chest, grazing over damp skin as she leans up into him, their contact growing more heated. Her teeth dig into his lower lip, a punishing bite that wrings a noise out of him that she wants more of. A noise of weakness, pleasure was one hell of a drug. She does it again and is met with a growl as he presses a harder kiss, enough that she knows her lips will be swollen by the time they're done.
He tastes of the sea, salty and musky, damp and yet so very filling. It had been her turn to delve into his mouth, and he willfully allowed it until he didn’t, pulling back with a heavy swallow and exhaling sharply. “You’re going to drive me mad.” He traces a finger down her face from hairline to chin, leaving behind a trail of tingles. “Completely and utterly incorrigible.”
It makes her smile, the acknowledgement of her affecting him in a way she was surprised she could do. This centuries old man who has likely seen it all was crumbling just from her lips alone. Fingers comb through his cropped locks, feeling the water fleck off against the back of her hand, staining her palm.
“What if that’s my intention, hmm?” She grins, pulling him down and meeting him for another kiss.
And they mingle in sensations and taste until Shuri is shivering and Namor feels as dry as he did out in the desert. Groaning low, he lifts her and starts towards the sea, making her gasp and laugh a little. “I don’t want my clothes to get wet.”
Her words go unheeded as he drops to his knees, letting her sit in a crouch for a moment as he dips back into the rolling waves, leaving her briefly before he returns, hands reaching to cup her face. Water dripped from his skin, rolling droplets down her jaw against her neck, wet lips pushing the taste of salt back into her mouth. She makes a noise of slight discontent, but it’s not enough to make her pull away. To the contrary, her arms wrap back around his shoulders as he kneels in front of her crouched form, supporting her as the waves lap around their ankles. Her knees drop as her balance starts going, damp skin brushing with his as he starts to get her just as wet as he was. One of his hands glides up her shirt to brush over the bandage over her stomach, touch feather-light and tender, but also promising something much further.
. . .If they weren’t broken apart by the call of her name. Withdrawing to gaze at him, she drags her eyes away to look over her shoulder, barely making out Nakia’s form. “Shuri?”
“I’ll be there in a moment!” She called back, biting her lower lip as she watches the form drift back to the modest home. Turning back to the god in her arms, there’s a feeling of unwillingness filling her. She doesn’t want to let him go, but she knows that she should. Just to go inside.
He regards her in turn before leaning in again, laying one last scorching kiss to her lips before withdrawing, fingertips pressing against her lower lip to keep her from leaning in again.
“I promise to return for you again. Maybe my place next time.” A wink, cheeky, and she can’t help but match his smile.
“You better.” She runs her hands through his hair one more time before drifting over the beads adorning his shoulders, then down his strong arms. “I’m gonna hold you to it, Amor.”
The way his eyes widen slightly is worth the bold move, and she retreats from his soaking wet arms to stand, looking slightly pleased. He smiles slowly, standing with her and cupping her cheek one last time before turning away, parting the water with strong legs before diving in, leaving Shuri alone once more.
But this time, there’s a warmth in her chest, a promise of something more. Her skin is damp from him, lips slightly swollen but a shine in her eyes that wasn’t there before.
Watching the ocean for a few moments more, it feels more beckoning than before. But she turns away, trailing from wet sand to dry, returning to heartbreak with a clearer mind.
Namor, who caused it in the first place, was also the one to heal it.
Wasn’t that something?
#nashuri#namor x shuri#shuri x namor#namor and shuri#namor of talokan#shuri of wakanda#king namor#princess shuri#nashuri fanart#namor x shuri fanart#black panther#black panter wakanda forever#namor mcu#namuri
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Ghost in the Machine
It was hard to reconcile, at first. The feel of it.
He’d find himself standing around, in places his feet had wandered to but where his mind had paid little attention. Drifting like atoms on the solar wind. On one afternoon he found himself barefoot in the library, the darkened must of the shelves rousing him back to his senses. Had he been sleepwalking? He wondered. He turned and found a shaft of sunshine pouring in from the south-side window. Not asleep. Daydreaming, then. He’d been lost in a mathematical algorithm that it was taking him embarrassingly long to figure out. He frowned, and wandered back out of the library again. He went to put on the kettle and make himself a cup of tea.
Another time, he found himself in the bathroom, staring dead-eyed at his reflection in the mirror. He’d scrub down the stubble of his beard, letting out a sigh. Then, chin wet, he’d lift a razor to scrape along the width of it. The glint of silver caught in the light. The foam of the shaving gel smelled minty, with a sharp and manly tang; not unlike the one he’d used to buy, from a market stall on a Luxon trading vessel. He wondered about the can he’d left behind. He wondered if his other self had managed to use it all up yet. There’d only been half left, so far as he could recall. Perhaps he had.
More often than not, he found himself in the garden. Pete’s manor was a maze, and he was drawn outside – to fresh air and birdsong – as a kind of call of the wild. He felt a little less anxious out there, for some reason. He supposed he was used to endless space above him, back home; cavernous ceilings and a complete and utter lack of dimensional containment. The wide open Earthen sky came as close to a TARDIS interior as he was ever likely going to get. For a good long while, at least.
On this particular occasion, he was strolling along slowly, his shirtsleeves rolled up as he meandered amongst the rose bushes. He thought about picking one. But, as he’d paused by one of the larger shrubs and reached out to stroke the petals, he’d done it again. He’d got lost.
_____
"Ghost in the Machine": a Tentoo/Rose fanfic. The first chapter, 'The Material World', is available to read in full on AO3:
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