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starryinkart · 5 months

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Hey so a bit of a possible crack theory:

So in the show, we’ve gotten three solver colors already, Red, which stands for Doll, Purple which stands for Uzi/Nori, Yellow which stands for the solver/CYN. But here’s something ALOT of people seemed to miss. After you rewatch the Season 1 trailer, you realize:

There’s a blue solver, most likely a blue solver holder. Hidden right before the infamous yellow of the solver we’ve come to know in the show.

If you watch the trailer, you also notice something else. Right before this symbol quickly shows up, we have a dialogue from N, running away from Uzi from the scene at the end of episode 2 and then him sitting in front of V being sad. But if you listen to that dialogue:

He says “We can’t be around the workers anymore V, we’re too dangerous…”

He eventually begins to hang around them again, but to me this line with the imagery is super important. We know from the most recent episode 7/8 teaser that N is the actual leader of the squad, most likely the strongest and most likely protected by CYN with her admin right before she was completely lost by the solver.

Through out the show, we see him confused at his own power at points, like in episode 4 when he shoots the arrow through another and catches them on fire, cracking the arrow board, proceeding to say:

“Did I do that?” All confused.

N obviously doesn’t know how powerful he is at all, but what if and hear me out, it’s not ONLY because he’s a Disassembly Drone?

We know that CYN blocked the solver from having access to him, V and J to most likely protect them from the fate the solver has for drones who are infected. She didn’t want the same thing happening to N, her brother, who she loved and his friends which he cared about and most likely she cared about before she was taken over completely.

But now, Uzi has unblocked them from being protected from the CYNs admin, which was presumably protecting the squad from the affects of possibly getting the solver, (under the assumption CYN was bad in general) by becoming their administrator. If Uzi is their admin, and she gets taken over by the solver in general, that means that her admin code basically becomes useless to protecting N and the others from being infected too. And remember Tessa found them in the dump and repaired them as well, like CYN so they have a high chance of contracting the solver since they were also disposed of incorrectly.

So here comes the point of this picture that was released as a teaser yesterday:

It’s N, looking down, whether at something or just on the verge of having a breakdown and losing it we are uncertain, but from the posture, the balled fists, he does NOT look okay at all.

The first thing yours eyes are drawn to are the building split in half in front of him, the exoplanets in the sky and N. But, on a more closer look, you see two things:

1. The snow flakes on the bottom left have a ominous blue tint to them, which should only happen if blue light is reflecting off of them…

2. If you didn’t notice on the first look, N has the same blue light, coming from right in front of him. Perhaps maybe the same color as this blue solver symbol we have yet to see with some weird lines and curves jutting out from the sides…

At first, I thought Khan would be the blue solver holder at the beginning of the series, being a surprise twist for him to have activated in him he was so afraid of due to him possibly seeing it with his wife Nori. Honestly while that would’ve been cool, episode 5 debunked this possibility, since Khan was flung out of the room by Doll when she was attempting to get the cyber bug from Uzi. Solver owners can’t effect other solver holders as proven from the series, it can only use items around them to throw or hurt them.

We haven’t seen N be affect by the solver once in the present time or in the flashback of episode 5.

Now I do know the merch video came out today, but it was stated in the video that

1. “It was totally not canonical to the series what so ever” which I HIGHLY doubt. Most of the merch and videos we have seen have been canon and it seems as though the characters have been pulled aside between episodes to “film” these fourth wall breaks.

2. The fact that the title of the video “N’s Final Form” and the thumbnail are most likely not just a joke. Notice his acrylic stand teaser from V’s acrylic stand released recently:

When I first saw this, it looked SUPER weird. Me and my significant other said it looked like N and we thought the two things in the foreground of his body were his wings, meaning he was looking away from the viewer of the stand.

But then we looked closer and I started looking at my King Solver N design you can find in the murder drones link in my FAQ and we drew a more accurate picture of what we were seeing. N was not looking away from the viewer, all the characters are looking at us, and it would be weird to have N be different. So this is what we came up with:

W stands for his wings, T stands for where his tail is, L stands for his legs, F stands for his face and H stands for his hands.

His hands look a-little weird don’t they?

Remember this:

It was mentioned some where on Tumblr that this looks similar to the cocoon that Uzi broke out of in Episode 4 when she transformed into her solver form only N is being dragged in. This is obviously a biomechanical phenomenon of the solver. But why is he being dragged in?

To have his “final transformation” , a “final form” you may say?

The only thing is, after Uzis transformation, is when the solver really started to gain power over her, taking control of her as seen in Episode 4 and recently in Episode 6. As soon as she became biomechanical, the solver gained more control over her.

(Edit: sO this cocoon theory was wrong, but his emotions can still spill over and cause this!!! So its not fully wrong yet!)

Now think of the scene above and what happened to Uzi in Episode 4, but with N. N gets dragged into this cocoon, fighting but not able to escape, while Uzi is fighting inside her mind with the real solver, posing as CYN in the mansion as Uzi is trying not to lose her mind. While she’s stuck, N has his transformation, now not able to be protected by CYNs administration since Uzi is now the administrator of him and V, so he undergoes the transition, the solver not having much to fight against converting him to a biomechanical creature like Uzi. This gives it more power over N, and gives it a chance to take advantage of the situation to bury itself into N’s code, making his solver string: true. Now N has the same thing inside him that has possibly taken everything from him.

After this, he either gets possessed fully and goes on a rampage or the possession is slow, painful after he manages to escape the cocoon and get to the surface. Either by this point Uzi is still fighting in her head and N thinks she’s fully gone or dead OR she has successfully fought the solver and is looking for N. All his repressed emotions, everything that has happened, everything he’s lost…it’s all become too much. He snaps, lashing out on whatever is in front of him, this being the building we see in half in the teaser from yesterday. Before he can stop himself, he angrily swings toward the building, but instead of a sword, his gun or his claws coming out, there is this fleshy, gross growth that emerges, a blue solver symbol appearing in front of him and shooting towards the building, snapping it in half like a toothpick.

There is a moment of either him stopping in pure panic due to this OR his panic, sadness and fear turns into full on anger, him not able to repress anything anymore, taking a turn into a full on uncontrollable breakdown. The reason he had to repress his emotions for all this time, for fear of lashing out and hurting the ones he cares for. But now, as far as he knows, no one is left to care for. After all in the merch teaser today Uzi said really sarcastically:

“You’re meant to be better than us! Don’t become swallowed by the darkness/animal based merchandise (murders) like I have!”

And

“HIS EMOTIONS… CAN NOT BE CONTAINED!”

(which can be very much true)

This could end in either him being used by the solver as a host or Uzi coming back to help him and in turn as he said in the teaser:

“Okay I’m back! I’m better and it’s even deeper down now….haha! “ (basically his repressed emotions being repressed further for an even worst breakdown in a season 2)

That’s one turn it could take, but another could he that when he stops from pure panic due to what he’s become, similar to Uzi, and in the merch trailer today, and realizes he can use his newfound powers to save the ones he loves that are either left alive or find another way to fix what has happened.

(Someone mentioned on here that N’s solver powers could be similar to Time-travel to places he’s been to in the past, (like Dolls in teleportation to only places she has seen and Uzi doesn’t really have one yet, she’s not that far along in development of her solver) to go back and correct what mistakes he has made, fixing the timeline and THAT would be super cool if he does think he has lost everything or really has. If it ever find it on here again, I will tag it.)

Sorry this was SO LONG, but basically, N will have the blue solver due to the final two episodes and he will get a transformation like Uzis, having him grasp the thing that has basically ruined his life several times over being apart of him now, having to use it to save his loved ones. All the while not having a mental breakdown or angry blowup and losing control of his powers. So basically affecting the story and his choices greatly.

#murder drones #I spent an hour typing this #at a soccer game #it’s okay if this isn’t true #when the episode releases #but it’s all good #ALSO I GOT the Uzi sweater #and N pin #I’m getting the rest of the merch #and the N doggo #murder drones theory #sorry if this makes no sense #it’s a rant #starryrants!#starrywrites!

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suashii · 4 months

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FIRST SNOW

info ⭑ itoshi rin x reader ﾉ 0.9k wc ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff

note ⭑ there's a superstition in korea that experiencing the first snow with someone you like means you'll have a long and loving relationship with them! so i especially loved being able to write this for rinnie ❤︎‬

requested by @moonartemisia for my winter wonderland event (closed)!

it’s the second saturday of the month; one of the two days of the month that you and rin have designated to be your scheduled date nights. the itinerary often changes from date to date but the both of you agreed to enjoy a dinner out this time around.

rin’s hooking the strap of his mask over his ear when the two of you exit the restaurant you’d just eaten at. it’s his attempt to keep his face concealed—so that your time with him is yours alone, uninterrupted by eager fans excited to have sighted the famous footballer. he offers you his hand when the mask is situated over the lower half of his face and you happily accept it, intertwining your fingers with his.

“is there anything else you want to do tonight?” rin asks.

you aren’t quite ready to go home yet but you don’t want rin to worry about hiding his face all night either. you hum as you think of the places you could visit that aren’t as busy as the heart of the city. an idea pops into your head and you turn to look up at rin. “wanna go walk by the water?”

“sure, if you want to.”

there’s a river that the two of you used to visit often when you were younger and rin drives you there. it’s been a while since either you have been so when you get out of the car, a wave of nostalgia washes over you.

it’s almost as though you can see your teenage selves walking along the water—your teary gaze when he told you he’d be leaving to train at blue lock and the way you bounced on the balls of your feet when he returned after what felt like an eternity away. you can practically hear all of your shared laughs drifting about the chilly winter air.

the sound of rin’s car door closing breaks you from your reverie, bringing you back to the present. the two of you meet in front of the vehicle and you hook your arm through rin’s, using your free hand to tug the mask down from his face to rest on his chin.

he levels you with a confused look at your action but you gesture to your surroundings, namely the lack of pedestrians wandering the trail at this hour.

rin cracks a small smile upon catching on to the reasoning behind your suggestion for coming here specifically. though, he starts leading you down the path before he speaks up. “that’s why you wanted to come here?”

“perhaps,” you drawl, resting your head against his arm. the sleeve of his coat is warm against your ear. “but maybe i just wanted to take a walk down memory lane. it’s feels like forever since we’ve been here.”

rin has never really been the sentimental type but when it comes to all the moments he’s spent with you, he can admit that he finds some joy in looking back at those memories. you represent a time in his life highlighted by comfort instead of competition, happiness instead of hopelessness.

he’s sure you know that by now, so he keeps his lips sealed and spares you the uncharacteristic show of sappiness.

his silence doesn’t bother you but the longer the two of you walk beside the water, the colder you get. you can feel goosebumps raising on your arms even under the warmth of your coat. it seems like you underestimated how cold it would get just off of the water.

you’re ready to suggest turning around and heading home for the night when something wet hits your cheek. the sensation worries you that it's about to rain and the two of you will be caught in it without an umbrella. though, when you turn to express your concern with rin, you see white specks sticking to his dark hair before disappearing.

it isn’t rain, it’s snow.

“oh!” you exclaim, holding your hand out to catch the fluffy flakes in your palm, “it’s snowing!”

a snowflake lands on rin’s eyelash with your words, causing him to flinch away from the cold. you giggle at his cute reaction, stopping in your tracks to reach up and wipe away the precipitation from his eye with your thumb.

his skin is cool beneath your touch but the contact warms you both and the warmth tempts you to stay where you are in front of rin. he doesn’t protest, choosing to place his hands on your hips. he leans down, touching his forehead to yours. dark strands of his hair tickle your face, drawing another laugh from your chest, a puff of white air appearing between the two of you.

the sight drags rin’s teal gaze to your lips and it takes only a short moment for him to dip his head down to capture them in a kiss. it catches you by surprise but you quickly reciprocate, thumb caressing his cheek as your lips slowly dance with his in the kiss. in the cold of this winter night, you’re beginning to be swallowed by warmth.

the frosty air is invasive when rin pulls away and you pout at his decision to do so.

he jerks his head in the direction where he’d parked earlier. “come on, it’s cold.”

you can’t argue there, so you sigh and nod in understanding. spending a short, pleasant moment during the first snow of the season with him is enough. and you suppose you can badger him for more kisses once you get home.

#[ ❄️ ] — WINTER WONDERLAND !#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: blue lock #itoshi rin x reader #rin x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #rin fluff #blue lock fluff #rin drabbles #blue lock drabbles

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doumadono · 5 months

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For send me character(s) and a letter and I’ll write you a minific!

Please do A with Dabi 💙💜

A/N: I hope you'll enjoy this little drabble, my dear ♥ The inspiration for this ficlet came from the following post

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST

The snowstorm raged outside, a relentless dance of icy winds and swirling flakes that threatened to bury everything in its path.

"This is just fucking great," he grumbled, his usual indifference not hiding the annoyance in his voice. "Who sends people out in this weather?"

"Tomura," you replied, wrapping your jacket tighter around your figure.

"We need to find shelter," Dabi said, his tone more serious now. "This storm isn't letting up anytime soon."

You and Dabi, reluctantly paired up as "team" by Shigaraki, sent on a mission to gather critical intel, found yourselves seeking refuge in an old, abandoned house that creaked and moaned under the pressure of the storm.

The air inside the dilapidated structure was just as chilly as outside, and the cold seemed to seep through every crack and crevice.

Dabi, his blue flames flickering ominously from his palms, took charge. With a sly grin, he ignited some discarded materials, creating a makeshift fireplace in the center of the room.

You huddled close to the fire, relishing the warmth but still shivering from the lingering cold.

Dabi, seemingly indifferent to the freezing temperatures, settled beside you. The fire's glow reflected in his eyes as he glanced your way.

"So, we're a disposable pawns with a mission," he snarled, a hint of amusement in his gravelly voice. So, what do you think about the League?"

The flames cast eerie shadows on the walls as you considered his question. "They're certainly… unconventional. But their goals? I don't know. It's hard to wrap my head around it. I find myself without alternative options. Given my history of misdeeds, the prospect of a conventional, ordinary life remains elusive, you know."

Dabi's skepticism lingered in his gaze. "Don't expect too much. These people have their own way of doing things, and it's not for everyone. Specifically, a young woman hailing from an esteemed household, as that seems to be the background you come from, based on the information I've gathered from Giran."

You only scoffed, rolling your eyes.

As the conversation continued, the cold continued to nip at you.

Uncharacteristically, Dabi sighed and, with a flicker of hesitation, said, "Come here, Y/N."

You raised an eyebrow, puzzled by his sudden shift in demeanor. Nevertheless, you edged closer, and he enveloped you in his arms. His quirk emitted a comforting warmth, and you couldn't help but lean into it.

"You're freezing," he stated matter-of-factly, as if it were the most natural thing for him to notice. "Fuck, this is exactly what I need - my partner freezing her ass off in this fucking weather."

"I can handle it," you insisted, although your teeth betrayed your words with an involuntary chatter.

Dabi rolled his eyes. "Stop being stubborn, Y/N. Just sit on my lap. I can make myself warmer if I want to."

You hesitated, unsure of the unexpected intimacy. But the cold won over, and you found yourself gingerly perching on his lap, still shivering like a leaf caught in the storm.

Dabi's arms encircled you, holding you close. The flames from a fireplace danced in his eyes as he spoke, his voice softer now, "You know, I didn't expect anyone to stick around. My appearance tends to drive people away."

The vulnerability in his admission caught you off guard. "Well, appearances can be deceiving," you replied, trying to sound reassuring. "And you ain't that bad, man."

He nodded, a subtle gratitude in his eyes. "Guess you're different."

Silence settled between you, only broken by the crackling of the fire. The warmth of Dabi's embrace began to thaw the chill in your bones. In that vulnerable moment, he hesitated before finally confessing, out of sudden, "I like you, Y/N."

The admission hung in the air, the crackling fire casting a warm glow on the revelation. As Dabi confessed, your response was a quiet smile that held a blend of sincerity and acknowledgment of his gruff demeanor. "I like you too," you replied, your words carrying a teasing edge. "Even if your gruff ass is problematic at times."

Dabi's rough laughter echoed through the room, a surprising sound that seemed to cut through the cold like a welcomed flame. "Yeah, well, can't argue with that. I've got my issues."

He shifted slightly, the light of the fire highlighting the scars and staples that adorned his skin. In that moment, he seemed almost vulnerable, a stark contrast to the tough exterior he often projected. With a flicker of curiosity, he reached out and gently tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. "You surprised me, you know?" he admitted, his gaze holding yours. "The day Giran brought you in, I was sure you'd last, what, two days? Tops. Figured you'd take one look at the League's shit and hightail it out of here."

You couldn't help but chuckle, the sincerity in his words catching you off guard. "Well, I guess I'm more resilient than you thought."

Dabi's smirk returned, a playfulness in his eyes. "Resilient and useful. You've pulled your weight a few times. I admire that, actually."

As the conversation hung in the air, he continued to study you. With a surprising gentleness, his fingers traced a path from your cheek to behind your ear, the touch leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

Shivering slightly, not entirely due to the cold, you found yourself captivated by the closeness. His scarred face, illuminated by the flickering flames, told a story of pain and resilience. In the dance of firelight, you observed the lines etched on his skin, the staples that held it together — a testament to a life lived on the edge.

Your lips parted slightly, breath catching as you observed him. It was a moment of vulnerability, a shared understanding beneath the surface of gruff exteriors.

Dabi's gaze met yours, and for a heartbeat, the world outside the abandoned house ceased to exist. In a bold move, he closed the already minimal distance between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that was as unexpected as it was intense. The initial contact was almost clumsy, a collision of warmth against the coldness of your lips.

Taken off guard, you hesitated for a moment before surrendering to the unexpected intimacy. The kiss was messy at first, a tumultuous exploration of unspoken emotions.

His hands cradled your face, the heat from the fireplace mirrored in the heat exchanged between you. As the seconds passed, the kiss deepened, becoming a dance of tongues in unison. The initial awkwardness transformed into a shared rhythm, a connection forged in the heat of the moment.

As the kiss finally broke, a warmth lingered between you and Dabi. You felt his fingers gently brushing against your lips, mirroring the touch of your fingertips as you touched them in a dazed realization. The firelight painted a soft glow on both your faces, and when you looked into Dabi's eyes, there was a tenderness that seemed to soften the rough edges.

"Guess I've got some surprises left in me," he muttered, a rare hint of a smile playing on his lips.

You couldn't help but return the smile, your fingers gently tracing the lines of his face, the scars and staples that told a story of resilience.

"Maybe I like surprises," you replied.

His hand found yours, fingers interlacing in a silent agreement.

As you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss on Dabi's cheek, the fire continued to burn, casting a warm glow on the scene. The snowstorm howled outside, but within the walls of the abandoned house, a different kind of warmth prevailed — a warmth born from shared vulnerability, unexpected connections, and the sweet taste of a kiss that defied the cold reality of their surroundings.

#dabi #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #dabi x you #dabi boku no hero academia #dabi my hero academia #bnha dabi #my hero academia dabi #dabi fluff #dabi fic #mha x you #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x you #mha dabi #dabi is touya #dabi fanfic #touya todoroki #todoroki touya

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corinthianism · 3 months

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everything has changed | dean winchester (1)

pairing: dean winchester/f!reader additional tags: reverse isekai, fluff, crack, meet cute, slight angst

summary: once again, dean lands in the reality where he’s just a fictional character played by jensen ackles. it’s annoying the hell out of him and he just wants to go back home, until he doesn��t.

masterlist | next chapter | ao3

CHAPTER ONE: A SIMPLE NAME

Today was supposed to be a normal day. It was your day off and you were on your way to check out a new shop that had opened downtown. They sold a bunch of fandom merchandise, which wasn’t special or anything, but you were hoping they had a nice keychain that you could clip onto your bag. The paint on your old green lightsaber keychain had flaked off, leaving behind an ugly gray rod of steel instead of Luke Skywalker’s iconic weapon.

The shop wasn’t far; in fact, you could’ve walked it, so you did. It was nice out today, and it was one of the rare opportunities you had to actually get out and get some sun, what with work eating up all of your hours. You’d barely made it a few blocks when you noticed a man lying face-down on the ground, his cheek smushed directly against the hot concrete.

You panicked, not sure if you should rush in and help or run away. Very far away. While you were busy in your own head, the guy in question rolled to his side, revealing a very familiar face.

No fucking way.

“Jensen Ackles?”

Jensen groaned, pushing himself up from the ground, “What’d you say, lady?”

You swallowed and repeated what you said, “You’re Jensen Ackles, right? The actor?”

The man in front of you was no doubt Jensen Ackles, from the green eyes to the freckles that were dusted all over his nose and cheeks. It’d been years since the media last heard about him; him and Jared Padalecki basically shut down Supernatural when they quit out of the blue, after Misha Collins was murdered. Their representatives all said the same thing: that they were just having a hard time mourning their friend and that they needed to take some time away from the limelight.

But neither of them came back or at least, no one had heard from them since. Until now, that is. And for some reason, Jensen was all dressed up as Dean.

“No, I’m… Goddamn,” he winced as he tried to stand up, clutching his side with one hand. When you approached him to help him get up, you saw the crimson liquid that oozed from underneath his clothes and all over his hand. “I’m… I’m fine, lady, don’t worry about it.”

“Jesus Christ!” you staggered back at the sight of blood, the starstruck feeling suddenly replaced by shock. “You are not fine, dude, you need to go to a hospital!”

“No, I don’t,” his voice was gruff, more so than when you heard him in person the last time there was a Supernatural convention. That was years ago, back when you were still in braces and listening to Panic! at the Disco. Now, he sported a somewhat-noticeable Midwestern accent and asked you question after question that you weren’t really processing, all while keeping a mostly straight face despite his heavily bleeding wound. He spoke again, “What year is it?”

The question was odd enough to finally snap you out of staring at the bloodied patch on his jacket and out of your inevitable freak-out, “What?”

“I said,” he planted his feet firmly on the ground. “What year is it?”

“It’s… 2024?” you raised a brow, but your primary concern was getting him somewhere safe so he could be patched up. “Sir, I think you need to get some help.”

He fully ignored you, opting to instead frantically look around and march away to God-knows-where. You weren’t sure what to do except follow him, worried that the wound on his side was much worse than it looked. Judging from how much blood there was, it had to be deep. Probably a stab wound.

You really didn’t wanna think about it.

Following Jensen led you to a newspaper and tabloid stand, with him haphazardly flicking through today’s newspaper to find whatever it was he needed to find. You debated on whether or not you were gonna call 911 because of the wound, but he seemed entirely unaffected, or if he was, he did a good job of not showing it.

You both just stood there for a few minutes, and you couldn’t help but notice how he became more aggravated the more he read through the papers.

“Um, sir?” you cleared your throat, trying desperately to calm the panic rising in your chest.

He didn’t listen.

“Mr. Ackles… can—” you took a deep breath, “—can you please calm down and tell me what’s going on? Sir?”

He only frowned even more, clenching his jaw as he tried to absorb the words on the pages, instead of listening to you. Christ, this man was stubborn. Not at all what you thought he’d be. Then again, celebrities weren’t your friends.

You were getting frustrated, too. Then, an idea struck. You weren’t sure if it was going to work, it was stupid as hell, but you had to try.

“Dean?” you said the name softly.

He finally looked at you, though in all honesty, it was more like a side-eye. But it was something, so you kept going.

“Dean,” the name felt weird on your tongue as you repeated it. You were calling an actor by his character’s name. Who does that? “Can you please tell me what’s going on? I only want to help.”

“Sweetheart,” he gave you this big charming smile which you could only assume was a bit mocking.

“Dean…” you returned the favor, saying his name as sweetly as you could but the pettiness in your tone vanished as soon as you saw him wince again in pain. It would’ve been easier to let him go and to just go home, but you couldn’t leave him alone like this. He didn’t seem to have a car or even a working phone. “You’re clearly hurt. Please, just let me help.”

He let out a sigh of defeat, accepting that yes, maybe he needed some help, “If you want to help… where’s the nearest burger joint? And do you have a first aid kit?”

So there you were, sharing a burger with Jensen Ackles, except he only answered to the name Dean. You led him to a small diner, which was becoming increasingly rare in the area. The sign outside spelled out SMITH’S BREAKFAST DINER in a retro font, though the lights didn’t work anymore. The place had been operating since the late 80s, and never really got around to keeping up with the trends. Regardless, you kept coming back. They had good food, good music, and Suzanne always called you “darlin’” in a sweet Southern accent every time you came in for a quick bite.

You chewed your burger slowly, your mind wandering to the crazy possibility that you were actually sitting in front of Dean Winchester, not Jensen Ackles. If that was the case, you hoped the diner would bring him some comfort. From what you saw in the show, him and Sam always frequented places like these. The thought that he might actually be the character and not the actor was still so insane, to the point where you couldn’t even really enjoy your food like you normally would.

He was also munching on his burger, shamelessly groaning in delight. His eyes were even closed… which was definitely a good thing because you’d been staring at him the whole time. It took him less than two minutes to chow the whole thing down.

You knew some people who’d met Jensen at conventions, back when those were still a thing. They always said he was nice and considerate, and all that. Or that he smelled nice. Sitting here in front of him, there was only one thing that was stuck in your head.

This man, whoever he was, Jensen or Dean… he was incredibly attractive. But that wasn’t the point.

The point was, he looked like he needed help and honestly? You didn’t really know why you wanted to help. Perhaps you just had nothing better to do. Maybe it was something deeper than that. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to have “saved a celebrity” on your resumé.

“Dean” took a big gulp of the Coca-Cola in front of him, letting out a refreshed sigh. Then, without warning, he pulled out whatever was lodged in his side. The suddenness of his movement, combined with his pained groan, startled you. A few of the other patrons of the diner cast confused looks your way, which you tried to play off with a nervous smile.

A sharp clunk caught your attention and when you looked back at the table, there was a bloody shard of glass right next to your iced tea.

“What the fuck?!” you whisper-yelled, quickly covering up the glass with some napkins before someone else could see it. You turned your attention back to “Dean”, who was taking a few breaths to calm himself down as he began discretely disinfecting his wound. You wanted to be mad, you really wanted to, but your fourteen year old self would scream at you if you did not help this man. And the way he flinched every now and then as the hydrogen peroxide pricked at his wound certainly earned him some pity points.

“So… uh, do I really call you Dean?” you started lamely instead of reprimanding him for his callousness, still trying to wrap your head around the possibility that this might really be Dean Winchester. “Like the guy from Supernatural?”

He groaned at the mention of Supernatural, briefly stopping his movements to cast an unimpressed look at you, “Yes, you call me Dean, ‘cause it’s my name, lady.”

You steeled yourself as he went back to treating his wound, “Yeah, well, you don’t have to be a dick about it.”

Dean stopped again, his brows relaxing into a more neutral yet somber expression, as if you’d just hit him with a sobering truth, “...Yeah, you’re right. Sorry.”

The two of you simmered in an awkward silence for a few moments.

“I just want to help,” you spoke first, trying your best to convey your sincerity to him, “but if you are who I think you are then I understand why you might be hesitant to clue me in on what’s going on.”

“And who do you think I am, exactly?” he spared you an intrigued glance, unflinching as the needle pierced his skin.

You popped a fry in your month, chewing slowly as you eyed him up and down, “Well, I doubt Jensen Ackles would get himself injured like that and walk around in broad daylight where the paparazzi could see him and say all sorts of things. Dean Winchester, on the other hand…”

He shifted in his seat to fully face you, a smirk playing across his lips.

“So what? You’re just gonna believe that I'm Dean Winchester?” he raised a brow, squinting his eyes at you accusingly as if to test you. You had to give it to him, it made you waver in your belief, but you stayed firm.

“Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth,” you offered with a small smile, feeling that the quote described your thought process pretty well. It made you feel smart in the moment, even if you knew full well that it was your teenage self’s delusions resurfacing.

He nodded in understanding and laughed, “Ha! Nice Velma quote.”

You were the one to raise a brow this time, “It’s a Sherlock quote.”

“Oh,” his smile faltered. He cleared his throat, avoiding your gaze out of embarrassment, “...Yeah. Yeah, I knew that. Totally.”

You held in your laughter, biting your lip as you watched the faintest blush spread across his freckled cheeks. The moment sizzled out after a while, leaving you two in a semi-comfortable silence. You noticed how guarded he was, sneaking a glance at you every now and then as he patched up his wound. You understood why; he didn’t wanna be vulnerable in a room where it was only the two of you, so as weird as it was to have a man bleeding out in a breakfast diner, it was still much safer.

It wasn’t like he was the only one with doubts. For all you know, Jensen Ackles had just gone crazy after Misha Collins died. Same thing might’ve happened to Jared Padalecki. You still wondered what on Earth happened to them, but there was something about the man in front of you that made you feel safe. Your first instinct was to trust him, and that had never happened before. It scared you.

Whatever it was, you just had to give this a shot. Maybe it was the feeling that this whole thing was a lot bigger than you could’ve ever imagined.

“What will you do after this?” you asked him, eyeing the needle in his hand.

The question seemed to upset him, even if he was trying his best to hide it. Something shifted in his gaze, his resolve seemingly faltering for a split second. It only intrigued you even more, getting caught up in his every little move like he was a movie you’ve never seen before.

“You don’t need to worry about that,” he offered you a tight-lipped smile, finishing off the stitch with a secured knot, “I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

That answer didn’t make you feel any better. Then, something clicked into place.

When Misha Collins was murdered a few years ago, a “script” for Supernatural was leaked by someone on Tumblr. It spread like wildfire then and you remembered the amount of hate comments the poster got. People assumed it was a weird fanfic to explain how Misha died since the case was never solved and for the longest time, people just stuck with that. A chill ran down your spine as you tried to recall what was in that leaked script.

Sam and Dean were sent to the “real” world by Balthazar using a spell. They were being chased by some angel whose name you couldn’t remember. Misha was killed while the brothers ran away from the angel. You racked your brain to figure out the last piece of the puzzle.

“Wait…” you started, doubt blocking you from saying the rest of the sentence. It was crazy, fucking insane, but if your Supernatural knowledge was as solid as you thought it was, then there was only one explanation for his sudden but subtle change in demeanor. “Please don’t tell me you’re stuck here.”

The frown on his face told you everything you needed to know. He was stuck here until someone from his home universe managed to bring him back.

“Oh my fucking god.”

He chuckled, “Right on the money there, sweetheart.”

“I shouldn’t be believing you just like that. Why am I believing you? You’re not real. I’m going crazy,” you said out loud, half of it going towards yourself and the other half going towards him. “Monsters aren’t real. Hunters aren’t a thing—”

He frowned, “Hey, I know we got off to a bad start but you can’t just be saying that I’m not real.”

“Prove it to me, then,” you hardened your gaze. “Prove to me that you’re Dean Winchester.”

“What?”

“You heard what I said.”

“Dean” sighed, shifting in his seat so that he was sitting a bit more upright and was fully facing you. Then, he tugged down on the collar of his shirt, revealing a very real anti-possession tattoo on his chest. It was blurred around the edges a little bit, having faded with time. A small gasp left your lips as you took it all in.

“That’s…” you looked back up at “Dean” and for the first time, you noticed how much older he was compared to the last time you saw him. Or the last time you saw Jensen Ackles. His wrinkles were deeper, his eyes more tired. There were a few tiny scars littered across his face, nearly invisible if you weren’t watching them so closely. His mousy brown hair had a few grey strands that poked out, as well as some grey peppered around his clean five ‘o clock shadow.

He chuckled once he saw your shocked expression, tapping on the tattoo, “Yeah. Got this bad boy in 2007. Probably saved my ass more times than I can count.”

“What do I even say to that?” you stared at him dumbly.

He realized that you were right. As weird as it was for him to be in a world without monsters and magic, it was probably weirder for you to find out that the world from a TV show was real. He smacked his lips and avoided your gaze, “Um. Yeah. Weird, I know.”

“Weirder than weird, dude,” you sighed, wiping your face with your hands. “I mean, I wanna help, but how the hell am I supposed to help you? You fight like… demons and vampires and stuff. I work from home! On my laptop!”

He looked back at you, smiling awkwardly as you had a mini-existential crisis, “I just, um… Do you have some cash? I got like, twenty bucks in my wallet right now. I just need to get to a motel and you’re never gonna have to see me again.”

Okay, maybe that wasn’t the best way to console a woman in the middle of an existential crisis, but to be fair, the sooner he was gone, the sooner you could get back to your life.

He put back all of the stuff he used from your first aid kit back into its bag, pushing it towards you as he wiped his hands clean with a tissue. He called for Suzanne with a smile, his charm dialed up to a hundred, “Hey, sweetheart, can you pack this up for me? Thanks.”

“Oh, sure thing, sugar,” she beamed at him, before leaning towards you to not-so-quietly whisper, “You done good, hon. Your date right here is such a looker!”

Dean only chuckled lightheartedly at her comment. Suzanne sashayed away with a satisfied giggle, and you had to fight the urge to explode right then and there. You couldn’t believe what was happening to you right now.

You mustered up the courage to speak again, “He shot you a curious look, “What?”

“I…” you deflated. “You can stay at my place. I’m sure I have some clothes there that can fit you.”

“Sweetheart, I appreciate the offer but it’s not safe. Something could’ve come back with me, for all I know,” he leaned back against the faux leather. “I don’t wanna lead it right to you.”

“You’ll keep me safe,” you affirmed, moreso to yourself than to him. “And I’ll sleep better at night knowing you’re comfortable and fed and not in a motel in the middle of nowhere. You don’t have your brother with you.”

He nearly forgot that you knew a lot about him because of Supernatural, scoffing a bit at your words, “What am I? A child?”

“No, you’re a hunter and I’m not,” you reminded him. “I can’t fight against anything that decides to break into my home, but you can. It’s not just about you, I already shot myself in the foot by staying with you this long. Granted, I thought you were some actor who’d gone crazy but—”

“I get it, I get it,” he took a deep breath in, cutting you off. He processed your words, feeling a sense of protectiveness wash over him. It was still risky, yeah, but he couldn’t think of a counterargument. You were right, you were a civilian and if there was something that came after you, it was unlikely you’d survive. “Okay then. You got a deal then, lady.”

You couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief, “Well then, I guess we’re roommates, Winchester.”

“Yeah, I guess we are.”

author's note: and that concludes the first chapter of everything has changed! unlike last kiss, i won't be publishing all the chapters all in one go (since i'm still writing them), so please feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments! of course, reblogs are much always appreciated. see y'all for chapter two <3 p.s. should i start a taglist? let me know as well!

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #fem reader #supernatural #reader insert #supernatural fanfic #spn #spn fanfic #jensen ackles

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definitelynotstable · 8 months

Text

Frozen [Gaz x fem!Reader]

AN: Hello! This one's for my Gaz girlies. Gimme a comment babes – lemme know how I’m doing xoxoxox

Synopsis: You and Gaz are stuck in a safe house and – oh shit. Is that a single bed? Word count: 1.1k Warnings: none (i don't think.) Gaz x fem!Reader (callsign, Ace): Single bed trope ...kinda. Slight hurt/comfort? Gaz is a silly boy and nearly freezes to death.

———

Price had lied. Or maybe he’d been given false intel. The safe house was not a house but a shack. A cold, uninsulated shack with a small fire place, a wooden bench and a single mattress pressed into the corner. A single mattress.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Gaz grumbled, closing the door behind you, the wind still seeping through the cracks.

“Fucking hell is right.” You nod. “This is barely a shed.”

Gaz slung his pack from his shoulder and leant it against the wall by the door. There are snow flakes in his hair, you notice, caught amongst the curls.

‘I’ll get some wood,” you say, dumping your pack next to his and pulling your gloves back on. “You can set up in here, yeah?”

He nods, sweeping some dust away with his foot. “Don’t be too long – it looks like it’s packin’ in.”

“Yessir.” You tease, the door clicking behind you.

———

Christ, Gaz wasn’t lying. It’s become a full blizzard now, snow stuck to your lashes as you squint. You managed to find enough wood for a couple of fires and you curl over it in an attempt to shelter it from the snow. The shack materialises through the snow and you kick the door open with a grunt, a couple of logs tumbling to the ground.

“Shit, Ace,” Gaz clambers to his feet and shuts the door behind you, and picking up the wood you dropped, “I was about to go lookin’ for you.”

“Got a bit carried away.” You grin, making a pile next to the fireplace Gaz has cleared out while you were gone, “Thought I should grab as much as I could in case we get snowed in.”

Gaz kneels at the fireplace while you peel off your damp jacket. “We better not get snowed in,” he sighs, striking a match which catches the fire-starter and flares to life.

“Yeah well, can’t hurt to be prepared.” You say, pulling off your boots and setting them next to Gaz’s, “Exfil said they’ll come once it clears, hopefully won’t be too long.”

You immediately regret taking off your shoes. It’s bloody freezing. You share a couple of MREs for dinner and Gaz whips out an aeropress to make a coffee; claiming first watch.

You settle into your sleeping bag, having pulled the mattress away from the wall so it sits in front of the crackling fire. Gaz settles down, his lower back leaning against it slightly. You accidentally kick him as you shuffle around to get comfortable. He shoves your legs gently over and leans back, his elbows pressing into the mattress.

“Sorry,” you mumble, the fabric pulled in tight under your nose.

“’S’alright, just get some sleep, Ace.”

You take his advice and feel your consciousness slip away to the sound of the flickering fire.

———

You wake up mere hours later, frozen and stiff. There is something slightly heavier than the sleeping bag draped over you and your eyes hidden as you realise Gaz has pulled both your jackets over you. The man in question sits slumped over, arms crossed over hs standard issue black shirt; gun in lap with his legs stretched out in front of him.

He must be freezing.

“Gaz,” you whisper, nudging him with your foot. He startles slightly and you notice the slight tremor in his hands. “Gaz!” You whisper again, harsher this time, “You’re gonna freeze to death like that!”

The man shakes himself awake – sleeping while on watch is not like the Gaz you know. He turns to you and you notice the blue tinge of his lips.

“Christ, Gaz.” You fling the sleeping bag off you and pull the M4 from his lap, giving the safety a quick check before leaning it against the wall. You roughly yank his arms into the jacket that he laid on you as you slept, the sergeant complying; arms floppy like a dummy.

“Come’re,” you say, pulling him to lie on the mattress, unzipping the sleeping bag and rolling him into it. He blinks up at you in a daze as you zip it up to his chin.

You glare back at him, shivering slightly now that you’e traded places. The fire has died down and you quickly build it up again with enough wood to last the night before settling down with the M4 between your legs.

“Idiot.” You mutter under your breath. A hand curls around the wrist of the arm you have leaning into the mattress behind you. You startle slightly as you are pulled around. Brown eyes meet yours.

“Ace,” Gaz murmurs, “You’ll catch your death.”

You laugh, pulling your wrist from his grip and wrapping your arms around yourself. “Trying to sell me my own advice now, are we?”

The hand grips your upper arm now, firmer.

“Ace.” He pleads.

You round in him, angry now. “What do you want me to do Gaz? You’ve nearly frozen yourself solid – someone responsible needs to keep watch.”

His brows furrow, slightly hurt. “‘M’sorry, you were shaking. I couldn’t just let you freeze –“

–“What? And so you freeze instead? The logic isn’t quite there, sergeant.” You scoff. Deep down you know what he’d done was sweet, but the mans lips were blue. Your slight discomfort wasn’t worth him getting frostbite.

He tugs on your sleeve this time. “Exfil will be here soon – Price knows where to find us, we needn’t keep watch in this blizzard. The chances of someone unwanted finding us are slim.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. You know he’s right but you’ve gotten all worked up now. “I’m still angry with you.”

He smiles a little. “I know you are.”

“I’m going to stay angry till you’ve been checked by a medic.”

“Ok.”

You sigh, turning to look at him. His hand has curled around your elbow now, his thumb brushing across the sensitive skin in the inside of your arm. He pulls you again and you relent, sinking down to lie beside him. He unzips the sleeping bag, and tosses it over the both of you like a duvet.

“Come’re.” He echoes you from earlier and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

“Gaz!” You gasp at the sudden movement. He chuckles, hot breath fanning across your face. He smells a bit like peppermint gum, his solution to the lack of teeth-brushing supplies on missions.

“Don’t argue,” he says, nestling further into the mattress, “it’s warmer this way.”

He’s right again, the bastard.

The fire has licked at the new wood you fed it and it crackles happily in the background; you feel it’s warmth against your back.

“Fine.” You mumble, relaxing in his hold. “But just because you almost turned into a popsicle.”

He chest rumbles against you as he laughs.

“Whatever you say, Ace.”

———

Masterlist

#kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #call of duty #task force 141 #141 x reader #cod mw2 #gaz garrick #gaz cod #gaz mw2 #cod gaz #kyle garrick #gaz x female reader #gaz x you #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick x you #kyle garrick x y/n #cod fluff #mw2 #gazfest

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justpoliteconversations · 2 months

Text

Fall Birds [BOTW!Link + Reader]

Met an old friend, fought an old fight and completed the sacred ritual of the season.

Another one for the pile, but this time it's creation was out of my hands. Made for this Poll.

Masterlist

Companion piece:

Unsung Hero [TP!Link + Veterinarian!Reader]

TW: None.

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise.

---

The air is heavy with the scent of sodden earth and Fall's ripened bounties. Leaves of all colors and sizes rise in great torrents in the wind, flashing and twirling in dizzying, enchanting patterns across the green and brown of the forest floor. They gather at your feet, at your back, around the trunks of trees and in great piles upon shrubs and bushes.

You jump, crushing several of the colorful leaves under foot as they tumble passed in a great heap. More rush forth to take thier place, and you pounce forward to meet them, flakes and cumpled colors speckled across your socks and in your shoes.

A mirthful smile pulls against your lips, a delighted laugh bubbling forth as the wind kicks up and a wall of color slams into you like the wings of a thousand butterflies. They tangle in your hair, creep their way into your hood, down the back of your jacket. One ends up in your mouth. You spit it out, laughing louder still.

The wind pushes again, and this time it takes you to the ground in a giggling, overwhelmed slump. The torrent of leaves overruns your poorly manned defenses, burying you from head to toe. They are soft but itchy against your skin, crumpling crisply as you claw your way free of the onslaught.

Finally you emerge, face flushed from laugher and your labors and your head now laden more with leaves than hair. Breath comes difficult to you, as leaves still swirl into your face even as you stand above the chaos.

A flash of blue is before you suddenly, and you look up, up, up into the treetops.

A man sits within a nest of branches, looking down at you with a scar marred frown, eyes narrow as he takes in your disheveled form. You level him with the look right back, face twisted in a haughty sneer. There is a long, tense silence, neither willing to break this unspoken battle between you.

Then a leaf hits you right dab in the eye and you yelp, flailing wildly until your foot hits a loose patch of leaves and you go down once more. Within moments, you're once more trapped by the unending waves of leaves flowing in from all directions.

The man is suddenly laughing, rasping, husky and broken like glass shards grinding to rock. Harsh on the ears and unpleasant to the mind, but to you...

To you it means...

"Friend!" You voice hitches in an unattractive squeal as you fight your way back to the surface, smile so wide on your dirty face you can taste fresh soil and foliage in your mouth.

A hand reaches into the pile and pulls you free of the leaves with careless strength, dragging you into a back cracking hug. The scent of fresh rain and wet dirt and unwashed skin meets your nose and you grip back just as fiercely, laughing all the while.

You're lifted off your feet and tossed into the air without warning, going airborne for several seconds before landing in a truly massive pile of leaves some feet away. You're laughing the whole while, breathless with delight and adrenaline as blood pumps so loudly in your ears the world is muffled by the pulsing in your ears.

You sink down, down, down until the light of day completely leaves your sight. They cushion you, cradle you, they smell of fall and the harvests soon to come.

And then they're gone, blown away in a great gust of wind and you go flying with them. Soaring above the clusters of colors with effortless lift, watching the ground below fly passed you with wonderous rapture.

The ground gets closer. The leaves take individual shapes against the backdrop of grass and trees. You don't bother to brace for impact. Another gust of wind takes you back up in a smooth arch, leaves aplenty following in your wake like a trail of fairy lights flashing in the sun.

You look down and you see him, a flash of bright blue against the swirl of reds and browns, yellows and oranges, holding a korok leaf and chasing behind you with breathtaking speed. His face is plastered in a grin, all teeth and not an ounce of grace nor restraint. Wild and free. utterly untamable.

You screech in delight and he waves his weapon again, lifting you higher still into the sky. So high you can see over the tops of the trees, so far you can make out the shape of the mountains over the hills and walls of the town.

You start to fall. The feeling of gravity taking you back to ground pure adrenaline in your veins. And you roar with it, your voice lost to the wind. The leaves around you twist and flash in the light, like fish of every color swimming free through the endless blue.

Your hair is waving in the downward pull, mixing with the twirl of the colors far above.

A blast of sound and light. The rush of wind and heat. And suddenly arms are around you, hoisting you onto a firm back and you grip around strong shoulders with trusting ease.

In a flash of blue light a glider is above you, shading you from the sun and sheltering you from the wild storm of leaves cutting through the cool air around you.

The world is a riot of colors and shapes, the flittering of shade and light casting the world in beautiful, chaotic disarray. The soft, fluttering turfs of blonde brushing against your face and neck pull a smile to your dirt streaked face. The shallow, uneven breathing punctuated by the occasional heave of silent, scratchy laughter music to your senses.

The world below you is bright and gleaming in the sun's distant shine. Treetops of every shade and shape and every dazzling color form a mismatched carpet of life far below the now gentle flow of leaves caught helplessly on the wind's whim.

You press your cheek to the back of the man's neck, relaxing completely into his warmth with a gentle sigh that stirs the hairs on the back of his nape. You feel the moment his body softens as well, the moment a hand reaches back and opens for yours. Vulnerable and yet unafraid.

You slide your hand around his battle worn fingers, equally as trusting and tender in his hold.

"Another year to us, my friend. I'm glad to have met you." You said softly into his knuckles, before placing them gently against your forehead. "May the winds always carry you wild and free."

The sun sets as it always does, and that night you curl together with this man you love and cherish like kittens among the leaf litter. His hands in yours, your legs intertwined. The warm gust of his breath is soft against your face.

You smile. Slow and tender, tears of affection and overwhelming gratitude beading in your lashes unfallen. "Thank you. I'll miss you, my friend." You curl closer until he is in your arms, his hand curling trustingly into your crumpled shirt. His face lax with sleep and pleasant dreams. "I'll see you again next year. Stay safe, always."

You close your eyes and sleep, dreaming of a vast ocean teeming from horizon to horizon in an endless swarm of flashing fins and glimmering bodies.

He's gone the next morning, as he is every year. Once shared blankets tucked tightly around your sleeping form, leaves piled high against the vulnrable curve of your back. A single baked apple held loosely in your hand, still warm to the touch against your morning chilled skin.

You smile, and let the tears finally fall freely against dirt stained cheeks.

"I'll be waiting for you. Until next year, my dearest friend."

And so ends another season.

---

To the shadows.

#botw link #botw x reader #this man needs a friend

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tc-doherty · 5 months

Text

Book One | Chapter One

Index | Next Chapter

Tag List: @bloodlessheirbyjacques @magefaery @did-i-do-this-write @marrowwife @rainbow-snow-writes @muddshadow @outpost51 @full-on-sam @bluberimufim @unclear-contributions @talesfromtheunknowable @guessillcallitart @flowerprose

(Ask to be added or removed)

Knights all looked the same.

It had been years beyond counting since the last knight had dared Dragon's Keep, but from her place in the castle's tallest remaining tower she could tell that this one was no different from the others who had tried and failed over the years.

Her eyesight was better than a human's. Even from this height she could see that the steel armor encasing his arms and legs, well shined by some probably overworked squire, was scratched and dented. His surcoat was plain, with no heraldry in sight. The sword at his hip was gaudy, but the hilt was only gold leaf and glass gems, the latter cracked and the former beginning to flake. His destrier was red roan under its bulky iron barding, rather than the preferred white or black of older days.

He was a knight, but not a wealthy one. That was certainly why he was here.

Scattered bits of gold and silver lay around her feet. The hoard itself was behind her, the coins and gems, jewelry and weapons, crowns and idols and assorted other treasures that her mother had collected formed an untidy pile against the far wall. Coins clinked and chimed under her feet as she moved closer to the window. Slender brown fingers curled around the edge of the granite windowsill as she leaned forward and peered down at the knight below.

He had come to a stop. The horse shuddered and stamped one large hoof onto the dirt. The knight patted it idly on the neck to quiet it and lifted his visor – just enough to show pale skin, blue eyes, and a shock of golden hair.

From his point of view, the place must look abandoned. He had already passed the outer wall with its ivy-covered stones and the broken wrought iron gate hanging at an angle from busted hinges. The scene inside the walls was not any more welcoming.

She could picture what he was seeing, having played on these grounds her whole life. No carts had been by in so long that it took a dragon's eye to see the rutted dirt roads under encroaching grass and wildflowers. The bushes here and there stood large and untrimmed. Huge weathered chunks of stone lay scattered around the base of the tower where bits of wall had crumbled and gone unrepaired. The rest of the castle beyond the tower was in worse shape still. Most of the walls had toppled centuries ago and only the foundations remained.

All that only accounted for natural decay. There were also unmistakable signs of dragons. The air smelled slightly of smoke, copper, and the dry, cool scent of scales. Claw marks as deep as a man's hand adorned the trees and remaining walls. The ground at the tower's base was scorched black and had been artistically decorated with the bones of other foolish knights.

She smiled. That had been her touch, and she had sent many knights running with those bones alone.

Her work did not go unnoticed. The destrier saw the bones, smelled the air, and fidgeted. The knight, intentionally or otherwise, ignored the signs. He urged his mount forward. The horse moved with visible reluctance. It shook its head, nostrils flaring, ears flicking back and forth at the smallest noise. She couldn't see its eyes, but she knew they would be ringed with white. Its hooves pawed at the blackened ground.

Her mother descended right on time.

The dragon plummeted towards the earth with a roar that shook the tower and caused even more items to slide off the hoard and roll around the room. The girl in the tower ignored this interruption, keen as ever to watch her mother fight.

Her mother's obsidian scales glinted in a riot of ghostly colors as she fell through the sunlight. It might look careless, but her dive was as carefully controlled as any falcon's. Just as it seemed she would surely crash into the ground and save the knight the trouble of fighting her, black wings opened with a snap and she landed lightly on all fours. The girl thought, not for the first time, that dragons truly were the most graceful of creatures.

The warhorse screamed and reared but did not run. The dragon was three times its size, but it bellowed its defiance and stood firm. Perhaps it was not such a cheap horse as she had assumed, it had clearly had some actual training. But she knew it would make no difference in the end. She had seen this exact farce a hundred times.

The black dragon reared too, swinging back like a snake about to bite – except she produced fire rather than venom.

With a tug at the reins and a tap of his heels, the knight directed his horse aside just in time to avoid the jet of golden flame. He was not so lucky with the whiplike tail that followed after. It slammed into the horse's armor-covered side with a noise like a bell ringing. The force of the blow toppled the horse and sent it and its rider down in a tangled heap of armor and thrashing legs.

Before he had even regained his feet, the knight managed to unhook a painted steel shield from his saddle just in time to block her mother's second burst of fire. The horse screamed as sparks made contact, but the shield held back most of the flames and both were able to stand to challenge her mother once again.

High above the fight, she frowned. In the past her mother had been able to melt through shields in an instant. In the past, the knight would never have been able to stand again. But dragon's fire cooled over the years until it flickered out altogether, and her mother was no longer young. But age did not affect her cunning, nor her will to fight.

The dragon reared again. This time rather than fire she lashed out with her front feet. One foot hit the knight and sent him flying into a cluster of bushes. The other smacked down on the destrier's rump. Her claws slipped off the polished iron barding.

The horse's ears were flat back and his limbs trembled with fear but he did as he had been trained. He kicked out with both strong back legs and was rewarded by the sharp sound of bones cracking.

The girl frowned again. That was foolish. Like any other flying creature, dragons' bones were hollow, and broke easily. In the past her mother would have been fast enough to avoid that, but here too her age was showing.

Down below her mother hissed in pain and pulled back her injured foot. She directed a short spurt of fire at the offending horse, who still refused to bolt. It turned and cantered over to where the knight was chopping his way out of the bush into which he had fallen.

The dragon followed, ready to continue.

She reared up again as she neared the bush, certainly preparing for the final blow.

The knight stood up in a shower of cut branches, tossed aside his shield, and lunged.

The black dragon screamed, a cross between the call of a hunting hawk and a wolf's howl.

She wrenched herself free from the knight and his blade, which had already begun to melt. The dragon sprang for the sky. Her tail caught the knight across the chest and knocked him back into the smoldering remains of the foliage.

The effort of flying only widened the ugly gash in her belly. No longer predator, but wounded prey, she half crawled and half flew up the side of the tower. She let herself fall through a dragon sized hole in the roof and collapsed in a heap at her daughter's feet.

"Mother!" The girl cried. In the language of dragons, even that distressed cry was full of fang and fire. She waded through the trickles of blood and melting gold to put her hands against the gash and try to push the sundered flesh together again.

The dragon shuddered, and with a peculiar shrugging motion, began to shrink.

"Mother, you can't shapeshift right now!" said the girl. "You'll heal faster in your true form."

Even in this condition, her mother managed to laugh. She stopped transforming and pressed her snout to her daughter's forehead, speaking with gentle practicality. "It's time for my fire to go out, dear one. And truly, I could not wish for a better exit. Would you have me stay here and perish of boredom and old age?"

"Mother!"

"All things change around us, that is the knowledge of dragons as you are well aware. But I would gift you my cloak of scales so that it might protect you, even though I no longer can."

When the dragon began transforming again, the girl did not try to stop her, even as the shifting skin and muscle ripped the gash wider and spilled her mother's lifeblood onto the stone floor. Tears rolled down her face, far hotter than any dragon's blood or breath could be. She wished they were hot enough to burn her, so that she would not have to leave. All things might change, but that did not mean that she wanted them to. Unfortunately dragons were never harmed by fire, least of all their own.

She held onto her mother's body, so much smaller and sadder than she remembered. The brown skin was wrinkled, the once brilliant amber eyes no longer sparkled, the hair that had once fallen like a spill of shining night was matted with blood and sweat. Only a small smile which consistently hovered around her mother's lips was the same. She wrapped her mother’s scaled cloak around her own shoulders, wept over the frail, lifeless body, and waited for the knight to arrive.

He strutted into the room proud and shining, like he thought of himself as a ray of sun touching a land long shrouded by clouds. His step faltered slightly as he took in the incongruities of the scene. Despite what the stories said, this was no lady's chamber, and she was no delicate, doe-eyed princess in need of rescuing. She clung to her mother's body like a lifeline, wearing nothing but dragon's blood and a cloak of shimmering black scales. It was a testament to his personality that these facts did not stop him for long. He spoke, and she understood his strange, soft words, for all dragons have the gift of tongues.

"You're safe now, my lady," he told her as he picked his way around the worst of the still hot pools of blood and melted gold. "I've come to take you to court where you belong." He grabbed her wrist and tried to pull her to her feet.

Anger replaced grief in her heart, turning her blood to fire. She screamed at him, no word in any language, just a cry of frustration and loss and rage. She thrashed in his grip and pried at the steel gauntlets, trying to get free. Where skin touched armor the metal bubbled and melted. The knight winced as drops of hot steel began to burn their way through his gambeson into vulnerable flesh, but he held on.

She hissed and spat at him, and cursed him in the language of dragons, and wished it could be smoke and fire pouring from her lips instead of words.

The heat was enough to melt his armor, but not enough to shake his heart, for he was a knight, as foolhardy as he was brave. The strength he had gained through training well matched the strength she had been born with, and he held on.

He picked her up and held her until her fire fizzled out under the weight of grief and she collapsed into a dead weight, cool to the touch again. Only then did he set her gently on the ground.

She did not move.

She sat mute as he retrieved the saddlebags he had dropped outside the door and began filling them with treasure – the gold and gems that had not been damaged in her mother's death. He was robbing the dead, robbing her, and she couldn't make herself care. He spoke more words in his strange, soft tongue, and she refused to hear them.

Her mother, constant, proud, undefeatable; was dead. That was all that mattered. As for her future, she could not guess. She knew much of knights but little of human customs. She had never wanted to know. She didn't want to know now. So she sat and tried not to think, tried not to feel, as her life fell apart around her.

The knight took no notice. He filled his bags with stolen goods, and slipped the sword of another, less lucky, knight into the empty scabbard at his left hip. He slung the saddlebags over one shoulder, picked her up as if she weighed nothing at all, and left the tower.

For three weeks she did not eat, drink, or speak.

Except on her mother's back, she had never been far from the estate of Dragon's Keep. She had never traveled at length through the wild, creature infested lands outside, nor had she ever seen the dilapidated wall that separated their land from the lands of humans.

She did not see it now.

She noticed nothing of the journey back to the court this knight called home. She slept often, and tried to dream even while awake. To the knight she was a statue, neither resisting him nor responding to him.

She did not fight him when he dressed her in...well, some sort of human fashion, she assumed.

She closed her ears to the words he spoke, first bragging, then angry, then pleading, until he ceased to speak to her altogether and the rest of their journey passed in silence.

But there was no ignoring the court, not really. It was loud, full of people who talked about anything and everything. They talked about her too, making plans for her life without even asking her – not that she cared what they thought, not that she had any intention of responding.

She had never had any interest in humans, and she still didn't.

That did not stop them from being interested in her.

If she had listened to those conversations, she might have understood their actions. But she did not want to listen and she did not want to understand.

For reasons which made sense to them, they gave her back the gold and silver the knight had stolen. They called her lady, and gave her a room in the palace, a trunk full of donated clothing, and sent along three young women who flocked around her, twittering ceaselessly like little birds. Their presence irritated her as they pulled her this way and that way, trying to dress her up like one of them. They succeeded in removing the clothing the knight had given her and replacing it with a single garment before she ran them off with claw and fang and cast the rest of the clothing aside.

She slammed the door behind them.

She just wanted to be left alone, but here she was never alone. The sturdy stone walls pressed in on her, nothing like the decrepit castle she was used to. The sounds of wind, birdsong, and animal life had been replaced with a seemingly never-ending wave of sounds. She drowned in them, the talk and laughter, the thud of boots and the soft switch of fabric as humans moved, the rustle of brooms against rough stone, all of them. She had never been in a place so loud. She had never been exposed to her gift of tongues, which told her the basic meaning of everything said, whether or not she wanted to know.

A particularly abrasive laugh – the laugh of that knight – grated on her ears. During the journey back to court he had been subdued, but here, surrounded by people, he had regained his courage. He was coming to see her, she was certain of it, coming to see what his princess looked like now that she was civilized. But she didn't want to see him. Not him, not the young women, not any of the people here. With a cry like that of a wounded animal she pushed herself out of her seated position, grabbed her mother's cloak, fled through the nearest door, and found herself outside.

She stood for a moment, surprised. The noise of a door opening brought her back to herself. She gathered her wits and ran.

It was not wilderness, this place she found herself in, but it was not stone walls either. She followed stone paths laid neatly on the ground, the clothing she had been pushed into tangling around her legs. There was nowhere to stop, nothing but stone paths and stone fountains with the occasional bush or row of flowers. Even here there were people, people who scattered out of her way and stared after her as she passed. She paid them scant attention.

Dragons were predators by nature, and she had never wondered what a deer might feel while being pursued by her mother. Now though, she did not have to wonder. She thought she had a pretty good idea.

In some ways this fake wilderness was even worse than being inside.

She ran and ran and did not stop until she felt grass under her feet and then she stopped all at once, collapsing onto the ground in a heap. She fought back the sobs that wanted to come out although a few tears escaped to scorch the ground beneath her. She didn't want to be here, but she wasn't about to let these humans see her grieve.

She knew that her mother would not be pleased with this. Dragons were not so emotional. The world changed around them and they adapted to it. They were calm and practical, rational. She never had been good at that. Still, she tried.

Only when she got herself back under control did she look around to see where she had landed.

It was a small grove surrounded by cypress trees. From here, the castle was not even visible. Nor were any people. She breathed, letting the familiar openness chase out the lingering claustrophobia of too much stone and too much metal and too much noise. The muttered conversation from the grounds behind her faded, masked by the sound of branches moving in the wind. Eventually, a few of the braver birds even began to chirp and the area around her sprang to life again, her wild interruption forgotten.

It could almost be one of the courtyards she was used to, save for the fact that someone clearly maintained the area. The grass was too short, too free of wildflowers and fallen branches and leaves. The trees too were too neat. It was still better than where she had been.

She curled in on herself, and began to dream.

She did not return to the room which had been forced upon her. The cypress grove, quiet and solemn, became her retreat. She did not leave it for several days, except to hide deeper in the fake woods when others came looking for her.

The rest of the time she dreamed of the past. Any moment, she thought, her mother could fly overhead – strong as ever, with her black scales glittering like gems in the sun. She would dance in the sky as she always had done. She would shower her beloved daughter with gold she had stolen, scoop her up to go flying, or drop a kill at her feet for them to share.

Nothing would've changed, they would still be together as they should be. Her mother would never have left her on her own to travel to someplace she could not follow. She would, as she had always done, tell her daughter wildly exaggerated stories of the hunt while they ate.

These visions were so strong to her that she did not realize at first that the smell of blood was real. She came back to herself with a start.

A platter of freshly killed venison hovered half a foot from her face. She frowned.

Dragons did not have much of a sense of smell, but the smell of blood was sharp and distinctive. She should have noticed it, or the sound of someone approaching. She would have, if she had not been so determined not to.

Because the meat, naturally, had not made its way there on its own. It was held lightly in the hands of a woman who held herself with the confidence of a knight. Until that moment, she had not known that women could be knights. It certainly had seemed from her mother’s stories that humans were only divided into knights and ladies. But she had seen enough knights in her life to recognize one, even without the armor and sword.

"Don't turn away," the knight said before she even had a chance to do so. "Even dragons have a need to eat eventually." She set the ceramic platter down on the grass and backed off a few paces before dropping into an easy sit.

Three weeks was a long time, even for a dragon. With the smell of fresh meat in front of her, she could no longer pretend not to be hungry. She grabbed a piece from the top and ripped into it, heedless of the mess she caused.

The knight continued to talk, undeterred. "Here I am, on a short visit to my family, and I miss it all," she said. "The whole court is abuzz about Leroy and his Lady Dragon. Tell me, why not just transform and fly away?"

The knight gave her ample time to respond, which she did not do.

"Nothing, hm?" The knight shrugged. "Well, you are a dragon. You of all people ought to know that mourning has to end eventually. I'm surprised you were distraught enough to let it go on this long."

She paused again, and still received no response. "Such a show can only mean you are named after an emotion. Which one is it?"

The bit of meat she was holding slipped her numb fingers to the grass below.

"How-" the dragon hardly even realized she had spoken until after the word was out. This human language was unfamiliar in her mouth and she snapped her fangs shut around the rest of the sentence. It did not matter. One word was enough.

The knight smiled. "Dragons are not unfamiliar to my home country. It pays to know about them. So, your name?"

"It does not translate easily," the dragon said, and felt anger at herself for giving in. She had not wanted to speak to these humans at all, and had even entertained the thought of living in silence until her own flame ran out. But the will to live and thrive runs as strongly in dragons as in humans, and she could no more keep herself from speaking than from eating the meal in front of her.

"I don't mind."

For the first time, the dragon heard the flavor of foreign speech in the words the knight spoke, and recognized them as being different from the things she had half heard over the last few days. This knight, then, was a stranger here too. Still the dragon hesitated, groping for words in a language she understood but had not yet spoken.

"It is the sense of belonging between two or more people who consider themselves family," she finally said, hating how she stumbled over the words. Dragon names came in two flavors: concepts or feelings. Concept names were strong and feeling names were graceful. In the language of dragons her name was beautiful. As sharp as new grown scales and as delicate as a butterfly's wings. In this human language it was long and clumsy, without sense or rhyme.

The knight nodded. "It is a bit long. A sense of belonging between people, hm? In my language we call this 'patrisjie'. As a name here, it would probably be Patrice. And in my home, we would call you Patya."

The dragon growled. "I do not want these human words or this human name," she said.

The knight nodded again. Her hair, brilliant red and cut to be even with her jaw, bobbed in time with the motion. "Soon they will become tired of calling you 'dragon girl' and someone is going to name you. Better it be something close to what you’re used to."

“And it is so easy to lose your true name!" The dragon said. She heard the snap of fangs and crackle of flame in her words, but the knight did not lose her relaxed posture as a wiser person would have done. Then again, that seemed to be the way with knights. She merely plucked a violet out of the grass and turned the flower round and round in her fingers.

"You aren't alone. My name is Felisjyta, but no one here can say it. They just all call me Felicity."

"And why should I care what they call you?" asked the dragon. Suddenly the rest of her meal was no longer appealing. She pushed the tray away, across the grass. "I do not want that name either. I am no friend to knights." She stood and began to walk away.

The knight made no move to follow her, but did speak again. "You know, Felisjyta is just like a dragon name. You would probably say 'the happiness of someone who has experienced recent good fortune'."

It was a very dragon like name, and she knew exactly how they would say such a thing. In the language of dragons, that name was warm and comforting, like curling up next to her mother on a chilly evening. It didn't suit her current mood at all. She shook her head. "Why should I need this feeling of yours? I have not experienced good fortune in a long time."

She left the garden and the meddling knight behind.

Index | Next Chapter

#writeblr #Writing #Dragon's Daughter #femslash #queer fantasy #fantasy novels #authors on tumblr #TC's Writing

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cupcakestreets · 7 months

Note

If need be I will bust out my paper to add to this village

I have an idea where the pair have a kid and Werewolf is being a good dad and promises that he won’t ever be alone and Red velvet is proud of him. Also I want to hc that werewolf can cook

Alright, anon you sent this months ago, and i wanted to do art for it, but i wrote a fic instead! There is art below~

Enjoy my Werevelvet Village~

__________________________________

Soft moonlight shines down on the tall trees of a dark forest. The bushes rustle as a small cookie with a red hood quickly runs through them. The sound of a heavy beast is not far behind. The ground shook, and twigs snapped, becoming louder and louder. The little cookie runs behind a tree, tucking their head down and holding on tightly to the hood to make sure to keep their face hidden. The little cookie panted heavily. They try to cover their mouth to allow any sound from their breath to escape.

The beast began to move slowly. It began to sniff the air. They stood tall, and the moonlight revealed the silhouette of a werewolf. The little cookie suddenly felt a tickle in their nose. As the werewolf walked past the tree, a tiny "achoo" came from the tree. The werewolf pounced behind the tree and let out a rawr! The red hooded cookie's hood fell to reveal a tinier red werewolf. The little werewolf began to giggle. The bigger werewolf cracked a smile and started to chuckle with the little pup. They both poofed into their cookie forms.

"You found me, Papa!" The little cookie said. This cookie had red velvety hair with grayish-white stripes and red sprinkles that peppered their hair, two pointed cream tuffs that resembled wolf ears, glowing blue eyes, and noticeable peppermint striped monster claws. They smiled at the big cookie showing off those sharp canine teeth. The bigger cookie lifted them up and held them in their arms. It was Werewolf Cookie. He looked a bit older and worn. He had a few cream lines on his chin. He gives the little cookie a kiss on the cheek, and some pepper flakes flutter onto the little cookie’s nose, causing them to sneeze again.

"Bless you, Red Wolf Cookie… Why don't we get back to the cabin… I'm sure daddy is done with dinner…" Werewolf Cookie says, walking towards a lit cabin in an open area in the forest.

Werewolf Cookie opens the door to see his lovely spouse in the kitchen. Their long hair was tied into a ponytail, and they had on an apron to cover their casual clothing. He was stirring up some jelly stew.

"Red Velvet Cookie!..." Werewolf Cookie called. His quiet yet enthusiastic tone alerted the cookie of their presence. He was able to turn around just in time to catch the small pup running towards them. Red Velvet Cookie laughs and gives them a kiss on the forehead.

"Hey, my little warrior! You had fun playing hide and seek with your papa?" He asked them while scuffing their head with their normal hand. Red Wolf Cookie nodded and excitedly raised her monstrous hand up to indicate to her Daddy that she wanted to high five his matching monster hand. Red Velvet Cookie happily put his big monster claw for their high five.

"Papa found me, but I found Papa way more! He was so big and cool in his werewolf form! Oh! I was able to turn, too!" Red Wolf Cookie chirps. They demonstrated their transforming abilities to Red Velvet, who looked impressed. He laughed and nodded along as Red Wolf Cookie described their game.

Werewolf Cookie smiles at them. He never thought he would be here; in a house, with a cookie he was able to get close to, or a cookie who found his beast form "cool." He felt an overwhelming amount of bliss hearing his child talk about their games. He went to sit at the dinner table where some cake pups slept nearby. Red Velvet Cookie came over with a bowl of stew for Werewolf Cookie, and he leaned down to give him a kiss.

"Here's dinner. The pups have been fed already." He says. Red Wolf Cookie climbed up onto the chair and bounced in their seat, ready for their meal. Red Velvet Cookie served their bowl and then made himself a bowl. They sat around the table enjoying their meal and chatting the night away. Red Velvet Cookie talking to Red Wolf Cookie about their past adventures and Red Wolf Cookie talking about what they wanna do when they were a bigger wolf. Werewolf Cookie listened quietly, occasionally speaking up if asked something. Truly a domestic scene, neither of the parents thought they would be in.

Werewolf Cookie laid the little cookie in their bed, placing their stuffed cake pup next to them. He gave them a kiss on the head before heading back to his room. Red Velvet Cookie was undressing and climbing into bed. Werewolf Cookie undressed as well and joined him. The cookies wrapped around each other, enjoying each other's embrace.

"You always smell so good…" Werewolf Cookie whispered and nuzzled himself into Red Velvet Cookie. Red Velvet Cookie giggled a bit and smiled at him.

"And you always smell like dirt…" He teased. Werewolf Cookie let out a whine before he nibbled Red Velvet Cookie's neck, causing the cookie to giggle harder.

"That tickles…"

The two giggled with each other before having a moment of silence.

"... Do you ever … Regret leaving?..." Werewolf Cookie asked in his usual quiet tone. Red Velvet Cookie looked a bit taken aback by the question. He does not speak for some time. He just looks at the ceiling. He finally spoke:

"Yes…There are times where I do regret leaving…"

He holds up his big monster arm and looks at it.

"Dark Enchantress Cookie was… Everything to me… A leader, a mentor… Even a mother. I often wonder if I made the right choice …"

Werewolf Cookie frowned, but he did not say anything. Red Velvet Cookie put down their arm and faced Werewolf Cookie. He smiles at him and continues;

"But I know I did… I would make the same choice again and again if it meant I get this… Cookies who I would raise all of hell for. I am very happy I met you and that we made the most wonderful and energetic child I've had the pleasure of raising. I love you, Werewolf Cookie. That will never change…"

Werewolf Cookie's eyes were wide. His heart raced hearing Red Velvet Cookie's speech. He started to weep. This surprised Red Velvet Cookie and he tried to reach over to wipe his tears only to realize that his monster claw was the only hand available. His regular arm was under Werewolf Cookie. Before he could figure out what to do in this dilemma, Werewolf Cookie rolled on top of him. He had the biggest smile on his face.

"I love you too… I am happy that you invited me to that picnic long ago… I… I never thought that someone would accept me… You never treated me like a monster and I am very grateful for your kindness…" Werewolf Cookie said; tears fell from his eyes onto Red Velvet Cookie's face. Red Velvet Cookie could not help but to chuckle at Werewolf Cookie's display. He was used to Werewolf Cookie being dramatic at times, but when he was allowed to express his inner thoughts it was like a faucet was turned on. Now that his regular arm was free he wiped away his tears.

"I may have left Dark Enchantress Cookie but my views have not changed. Some "monsters" are not the monster that most cookies think they are… Some are gentle and kind cookies who just need some encouragement…"

Red Velvet Cookie said in a very gentle voice. Werewolf Cookie flops down onto Red Velvet Cookie with, embracing him once more. He continued to weep into his shoulder. After he was done crying he picked himself up again and looked down at Red Velvet Cookie.

"I want another baby…" He said quietly. Red Velvet Cookie blinked at him for a moment. All he could say was; "Eh?" Before Werewolf Cookie came down on him kissing and nibbling his neck, which caused Red Velvet Cookie to let out different noises.

Red Velvet Cookie bonked Werewolf Cookie on the head with his monster claw, causing the big cookie to fall flat on top of him.

"Have you no self-control? It is late and I am tired. We can talk about children another time." He stated before pushing Werewolf Cookie off of him and pulling the covers up. His face was a darker shade of red, and you could practically see the steam float from him. Werewolf whined before he wrapped himself around him, spooning Red Velvet Cookie. Red Velvet Cookie did not push him off. He just sighed and wished his lover a good night.

#werevelvet #Cookie run #red velvet cookie #werewolf cookie #cookie run kingdom #cookie run oc

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judeandcardan · 10 months

Text

"You wanted to kiss me,” she breathed, looking down at his lips. Cardan’s eyes widened but he didn’t dare to move, waiting for Jude to finish her sentence. “And I told you that you were drunk.”

“Well, I’m not drunk anymore.” He found himself whispering before he could stop himself.

Read it on ao3

(Thank/blame @golden-notebook-thinking for this)

The High King of Elfhame woke up with a pounding head, his thoughts scattered. He blinked blearily, looking up at the ceiling of his chambers which was tastefully adorned with gold patterns. Across his stomach lay a petite fairie with hair as white as snow with her mouth flaked in gold. Cardan watched as she took deep breaths, obviously very much asleep. He looked around his chambers and sure enough there were three more sleeping fair folk draped across his room in various state of undress.

He gingerly got up, swatting the white-headed fairy’s arm until she blinked up in alarm at him. “Get off me,” He snarled in disgust. The fairie quickly scurried away from him. Perhaps, he should have been nicer, he mused but as he watched her cower, he felt the familiar thrill of having power so wicked and cruel over someone that he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He got up from his bed and walked towards the door, careful to avoid the bodies of other fairies currently lying on his bedroom floor. He breathed a sigh of relief as he silently closed the door behind him. It wasn’t dawn yet, so all the other residents of the palace were fast asleep. The silence hung heavily around him, suffocating him. He hated being alone. He strode towards the garden just outside the palace longing for some fresh air.

It was strange how his steps seemed to be eerily silent even in the quiet. Jude’s steps would not have been this silent, this ghostly. The thought came unbidden to him startling him as he opened the grand doors leading to the garden. He shook his head, disgusted by himself for thinking of his seneschal for such a trivial matter.

The warm humid air hit his cool skin immediately as he stepped outside. The breeze blowing his raven curls that were a mess from yesterday’s party and what followed after that. He moved towards the riverbank overlooking the river flowing gaily and hastily in a blur of blue.

He stopped dead in his tracks as he saw her. Jude. She was sitting at the edge of the river, leaning on her arms, her feet dipped in the cold water. It was reckless behavior, being so close to those treacherous waves, but Jude had always been foolishly reckless.

Her hair hung loose around her, a rarity, as her hair was always in one or another tight knot or braid. Her head was thrown back, exposing the long pale column of her neck. Her pink lips parted. Her eyes shut. She wore a loose flimsy white dress that reached till her knees but due to her sitting with one of her knees bent, it hiked up, showing the skin of her thigh. Cardan gulped, looking away but then almost immediately, as if under a spell he looked back at her. She was looking straight at him.

“Seneschal,” He said loftily, trying to mask his embarrassment at being caught staring.

“My King,” Jude replied with a slight snarl of her lip, getting up from her position.

“Oh, no need for that.” Cardan said quickly, too quickly. “Keep sitting. I shall join you. After all, you wouldn’t dare to refuse your High King, would you, Jude?” His tone took a threatening tilt at the end, daring her to refuse. Anger flared across her face, but she simply shook her head.

“No, I wouldn’t dream of it.” She said lowly, in a controlled voice. Cardan smirked and sat down beside her.

“You know, you shouldn’t do that,” He said, pointing towards her feet with one longer finger adorned with glittering rings.

“What?” She asked half-heartedly, her eyes closed.

“Dip your feet in water,” He clarified, “there are many a killer beneath these waves.”

She cracked an eye open, narrowing her eyes at him. “They are probably sleeping, right now.” But Cardan didn’t miss it as Jude became more alert, her eyes open, her back straighter.

“Hmm,” Cardan said turning away from Jude, “it’s just that I would like it if my Seneschal was alive.”

Jude scowled, begrudgingly retracting her feet from the water. “Happy now?”

“Very much so.” He said with a small smile. Jude rolled her eyes at him and that made him smile even more.

After a pause Jude said softly, “You look like a mess.” Cardan blinked slowly, looking down at himself. He truly was a mess. His white linen shirt was unbuttoned and tousled, stained with amber wine. He was wearing no boots. His breeches were scattered with gold powder. He was sure his hair looked quite wild too.

“I do.” He said, nodding his head slowly, looking up at her.

Jude snorted, “Of course, you do.” She opened her mouth then paused as if debating internally whether to speak what was on her mind or not. The sight unnerved Cardan. Jude wasn't like this.

“Go ahead, speak what’s on your mind.”

Jude hesitated then said, “I was just going to say…of course you look like a mess, you were so drunk and stupid last night. Wild. Brazen. Reckless. Careless. A High King shouldn’t behave like that, Cardan.”

Cardan ignored the latter half of what Jude said and instead asked, “Jude, what did I do?”

Jude jumped a little at her spot, not quite meeting his eyes. “Cardan—”

He cut her off. “Jude. What. Did. I. Do?” He asked, emphasizing on every word. Jude laughed nervously, the sound all high and wrong. This wasn’t how Jude laughed, he knew that for sure by the other two times he made her laugh before.

“Well, you did a lot of things. You got drunk. You inhaled all sorts of powder. You bedded a fairie—or for what I know many fairies. Then you—”

“Jude,” He said, stopping her ramblings, “that all is usual.” Jude remained silent.

“Now tell me,” he said, lifting her chin up with one of his slender fingers. Jude gulped. “What did I do?”

“You wanted to kiss me,” she breathed, looking down at his lips. Cardan’s eyes widened but he didn’t dare to move, waiting for Jude to finish her sentence. “And I told you that you were drunk.”

Cardan blinked in alarm and embarrassment. He couldn’t have—could he? Surely, he wouldn’t be foolish enough to want to kiss Jude, again? Despite her betrayal? Despite her mortality? Despite her controlling his every move?

“Well, I’m not drunk anymore.” He found himself whispering before he could stop himself.

Jude looked up in alarm, frozen. Then, hesitantly, leaned closer to him. Cardan inhaled sharply, not quite believing what was happening.

"Cardan, kiss me...please." She said looking up at him, her eyes hooded and clouded with lust and longing. He was sure he looked the same.

"I—"

"Kiss me." And he did. He pressed his mouth firmly against hers. Sliding his lips over hers as she did the same. He gripped her by the head bringing her closer but it wasn't enough. Never enough.

"Jude," he breathed his voice coarse, "straddle me."

Jude complied, her eyes dark with want. Cardan whimpered as she settled herself over his lap.

“My dear Seneschal,” he breathed, leaning closer to her once again, “you don't know how long I’ve longed for this.” He said bringing his mouth to hers once again.

#hmmm this sucks it's so bad oh god #jurdan #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #how the king of elfhame learned to hate stories #the folk of the air #holly black #jurdan fanfic #jude x cardan

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foolish-sparrow · 1 year

Text

Baby it’s cold outside

A/N: Merry Chrysler and Happy Holidays!

Warnings: None

Snow, you very quickly decided, could go and kiss your ass.

Because who in their right mind likes to take a stroll through the highly packed frozen death trap at the crack of dawn?

Oh yeah, your girlfriend apparently.

Snow, you very quickly decided, could go and kiss your ass.

Because who in their right mind likes to take a stroll through the highly packed frozen death trap at the crack of dawn?

And when the very sane question of “why?” Was asked the only response you got was -- "that's when the snow is most beautiful." And somehow that was enough for you to leave the comfort of your warm bed and go through with it.

Gahyeon was very lucky that you were madly in love with her.

Not that your shivering frame was showing that at the moment, as you grumbled and groaned.

The sun wasn't even up yet, the sky that weird mixture of black and dark blue with the hints of grey and the only thing you wanted to do was crawl back into the soft, thick, warm blankets on your bed and hibernate your life away until the weather of spring made it bearable to be outside.

But, no, you were not afforded such a luxury.

Instead, you were standing alone with nothing but the noise of your chattering teeth to accompany you; Gahyeon having already walked further on to take in the sights of the empty snow-covered streets while the rest of the city slept away in solace. The light crunching under her boots was almost muffled by the beat of her heart when she turned on the spot to take in the image of you; wrapped up in at least 5 layers of clothing and attempting to hug the warmth back into yourself.

"Here, " she smiled, walking over towards your trembling form as she removed the woolen scarf, taking it in both hands before wrapping it around you. Your bright eyes looked back at her in grateful wonder just as you always did when Gahyeon went out of her way to make sure every single one of your needs was catered to, even when you hadn't even asked.

You were both so in sync like that, and it just made you fall even more in love with her each day.

You hadn't even contemplated the existence of soulmates until you met Gahyeon. And now even that term seemed insignificant for what the two of you shared with one another.

Your hearts were so in tandem that it only required a look to know how the other was feeling, or what they were thinking, or what it was they desired.

Gahyeon absolutely adored it, as did you.

This was why you were here, currently up and out even before the sun, shivering the same ass off that the snow was going to kiss later. Looking at the woman you were completely in love with and knowing you wouldn’t wish it any other way.

"I love you, " you whisper into the chill, the white puff of air delivering the words against Gahyeon’s lips and causing them to twitch further upwards more than they already were.

"I love you too, " she calls back, never one to deny you her true emotions as she shyly leans in for a kiss.

And when you pull away; Gahyeon leaning even closer to steal whatever warmth you had left, you puff out the words you have wanted to tell her since the moment she excitedly woke you up.

“Can we go back to bed now?"

You could feel the vibration of Gahyeon’s laugh echo against your heart, the sound tantalizingly warm, safe, and familiar. Yet it never stopped from making your chest swell with pure love and affection.

“Yeah, let’s go back.” Reaching down to interlock your fingers, Gahyeon began guiding you back towards your apartment. The promise of cuddles and warm drinks shone in her eyes as you walked. The small flakes of snow that fell around you were clinging to your hair in a way that took Gahyeon’s breath away – but then again, anything that you did had the same effect.

Once you both made it through the front door, leaving your boots towards the side to dry, you immediately headed straight toward the bedroom. Nothing else was getting in the way of you getting back into some fluffy pajamas.

Gahyeon herself headed for the kitchen, flicking on the kettle before taking out two mugs. The slight smell of chocolate filled her nose as she began adding the mixture while waiting for the water to boil. The domesticity of it all, while a routine that had been happening for years – even before you were even dating, was something she would never take for granted.

And she knew that you felt the same, if the fond smiles she received were anything to go by. The upwards tilt of your lips was always something that blooms happiness inside her chest like your smile was her true goal in life.

“Hey you,” it used to scare you, how sometimes you just knew that Gahyeon was thinking about you. Even when you were apart.

Your younger self would always put it down as simply being delusional, because that was the time your relationship had been nothing more than shy smiles and a few seconds of eye contact.

Gahyeon lent back into your embrace, your arms giving a gentle squeeze before letting go. Leaning in to place a kiss against her cheek before moving away towards the sofa, taking the blanket that had been neatly placed on the top and throwing it around yourself.

Gahyeon followed shortly after, placing your hot chocolates onto the coffee table first before joining you under the blanket. The space between is almost non-existent.

“Thank you for joining me,” she whispers into the comfortable silence, pressing a gentle kiss against your temple, “I know you don’t like waking up early.”

“Yeah, you’re so lucky to be standing right now,” you tease back, smiling as you gently knock her shoulder with your own. “But I am also madly in love with you, so I guess you get a free pass on this one.”

Gahyeon’s eyes glistened in the way they always did when you verbally expressed your feelings, her cheeks tinging a slight red.

Leaning back in, she pressed her response against your waiting lips, the upwards tilt causing her own to do the same. The smiles grew until the point it was hard to continue. You only leaned back slightly until your foreheads touched.

Behind you, outside the intimacy you had created for one another, the snow continued to fall, soft like her touch.

#dreamcatcher reactions #dreamcatcher scenarios #dreamcatcher imagines #gahyeon imagines #gahyeon scenarios

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thedarknesssings · 8 months

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Prompt 2: No Light Here

Prompt 2: Bark - FFXIV Write 2023 Characters: Kyllian de Fosse; Antoinaux de Sombret Content Warning: Mental and physical abuse.

A snowflake kissed the tip of his nose. Kyllian pulled his fur-lined coat all the tighter around himself. More flakes followed, dancing around him and sticking to the dark strands of his long hair.

“Kyllian?”

A sharp gasp escaped his throat and he turned on a stiletto heel to face the man directly behind him. So lost in his thoughts about the swirling snow, he failed to hear his approaching steps. His arms hunched in some more, grateful he’d taken one of the long winter coats. It covered most of him, the leather that clung to his figure like a second skin, as well as the parts of his slate-hued skin that was quite clearly on display. The wicked heeled boots that rode up to mid-thigh was all the man could notice.

“They say you quit. The higher ups are being all hush hush on why. What’s going on?”

Kyllian sucked in a breath and cast a glance toward the dark grey clouds smeared against the backdrop of night beyond. “I’m still recovering. They wanted to put me on a desk job, Antoinaux. I’m, uh—“ He cut himself off there and shook his head. The scent of alcohol, smoke, and a mixture of colognes permeated the air around him, a cloying scent he was damn sure Antoinaux had to notice. “Not interested.”

“Mm, well, can I walk you home?” Antoinaux fell into step alongside him, offering one of his arms. “Noticed you were limping when I saw you.”

Kyllian bit back the groan rising in his throat. Violet eyes slid closed for the moment it took him to take the man’s offered arm. Leaning into him relieved some of the ache in his leg. Antoinaux hadn’t been wrong. “Thanks.”

“You haven’t answered any of my messages.” His voice was quiet. Nothing accusatory, just more of a calm observation. “Did I do something wrong?”

His body stiffened without meaning to. Kyllian glanced to the man at his side, his brow furrowing slightly. Antoinaux was a handsome elezen with wheat blond hair and sky blue eyes. Tall, well-muscled, connected socially, a decorated knight, everything anyone could want in a partner. “Oh, uh, no. I’ve been busy. Trying to figure out things. Look for work. You know how it is.”

Antoinaux had no idea how that was. He nodded his head and they walked on in silence for a few blocks. The building his flat was in soon loomed ahead of them. Antoinaux stepped forward, guiding Kyllian effortlessly up the steps. Their breath exhaled in plumes of smoke, like dragon’s breath, while Kyllian fetched out his keys.

He opened the door and regarded Antoinaux. “Appreciate the company. I’ll mes—“

A hand gripped his arm tightly, hoisting him in through the open door and into the building foyer. Antoinaux shook his head and dragged Kyllian in against his chest. “No, you’re not shaking me that easily again. It’s two bells past midnight, Kyllian. Do you really think I was here out of chance?”

“I—“ Kyllian swallowed thickly and licked his lips. Tension stole across his body, loosened his hand holding his coat closed. His other grasped Antoinaux’s arm. “I mean, you don’t live that far aw—“

A palm cracked across his face, sending his head snapping to the side and his vision to spinning for a breath. He gasped in pain, his hand rising to clutch to the burn of his cheek. That was going to bruise.

“Such a pretty idiot. Like always. No fucking clue.” Antoinaux smiled down at him, the hand that had just struck him used not to smooth back the disarray of his purple and black hair. “I’ve missed you, Kyllian. Don’t ever think you can drop me. You’ll never find anyone as good as I am to you.”

Kyllian winced and jerked against the tight grip Antoinaux had on him. He swallowed the bile stinging the back of his tongue, the harsh words with it. Overpowering the strength Antoinaux had was futile and saying what he wanted never added up well for him in the end. How could he spend a decade tearing people and their lives apart, just to wind up powerless against this one fucking man?

Maybe this was his penance for all the lives he destroyed. Kyllian groaned softly and let Antoinaux drag him toward the stairs. This is what he deserved, a love like this with a man whose bark was as bad as his bite.

#FFXIV Write 2023 #Prompt 2 #writers on tumblr #ffxiv writers #elezen #Ishgard #Kyllian #Antoinaux #domestic abuse #I'm off to a cheery start this year

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sam-glade · 9 months

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Find the Word Tag

Tagged by @lorenfinch here and @mrbexwrites here. Thank you both💜

And passing it gently onto: @thewardenofwinter @thedahliafrog @void-botanist and leaving an open tag. Your words are: fight, flight, fling, flick.

From @lorenfinch: stalk, fresh, flounce, winter, and leather - from Gifts of Fate.

STALK

Master Varré stalked around Lissan making minute corrections to his posture for a while, then they told Gullin to take over and lounged in their favourite chair. They still observed them though as the two Swords exchanged slow-motion punches, and pointed out ways to improve.

FRESH

Just like that, Lissan was home. Just like that, he was sitting on a rickety stool between Dad and Marta, sharing supper with them — dark rye bread and fresh white cheese that squeaked between his teeth and tasted the same as it always had. It made Marta so happy to have him back. She chided him for dropping in unannounced, and for being away for so long, and for the terrible state of his clothes — his boots had to be replaced wholesale. It didn’t matter. She was happy.

FLOUNCE ❌

(I've never used that word)

WINTER

Winter in Surya reminded Varré of the Princedom of Air, of the rolling hills around Gale’s Rest. These were ancient memories, from before their parents moved with them to the City of Light when they were in their teens, and they’d never returned East. They imagined that there were fewer lakes there than in Surya, but then that was true about every region of the Five Princedoms.

LEATHER

Erya took her usual place at the far end of the lounge. Her cracked leather armchair was rooted into the floorboards, with its back to the wall. Her orderly attended her and Varré initially, but Erya waved him off after he served her favourite plum rakija for them both.

~*~

From @mrbexwrites: window, being, dark, and palm - from the discovery draft of The Truth Teller.

WINDOW

The communication room was tiny, barely wide enough for a large desk which stood under a dormer window. Rilna briefly wondered how they managed to bring it inside in the first place. The only other furniture was a stool and a cushioned, currently occupied chair. Rilna wrinkled her nose. It was clear where she was going to sit.

BEING

However we would love to hear your opinion on the matter and we defer to your superior knowledge of this period in history, as you are one of the foremost specialists in the field.

By virtue of being the only one stubborn enough to pursue the research despite the Ministry's of Education efforts to deter her. Rilna briefly wondered if the poor postgrad writing this letter realised that they were going to be on the government’s watchlist for some time. Perhaps they did, and that was why they insisted on such ridiculous speculations. Or perhaps not, and old Karevin set them up.

DARK

Rilna leant on the bannister a respectable distance from the Lady. Glossy dark blue paint was flaking off of it, showing spots of rust, and Rilna was careful to pick a segment with relatively few of those. Once she made herself comfortable, Lady Night looked at her, tilting her head in a silent question.

PALM

He reached deep into the pocket of his overalls and extracted a handful of glass marbles. The vivid colours weren’t clear in the low light, but he didn’t need to see them to know what each and every one looked like. He held up his hand, the marbles pooling in his palm.

This is for you, Sister.

The little spheres rose into the air and hovered there for a spell, before zipping in all directions.

#tag game #writeblr #writeblr tag game #find the word tag #the truth teller #gifts of fate

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muzansslxt · 1 year

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“You Should Be Scared Of Me.”

Muzan Kibutsiji x Sukiyo Sakura oc

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*Part One ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Summary╰┈➤

Unknowingly carrying marechi blood in her veins, Sukiyo is sent on a mountain mission, only to fall prey to the demon lord himself. Deciding to keep her as a personal snack (and slave) he brings her to the mansion of demons, where she lives out her worst nightmares…

Warnings╰┈➤

Yandere themes+dub con/non con+blood play+bdsm themes +mature language !!Read at your own risk!!

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・❥・

Her fingers felt numb, the ice cold air seemed to sink it’s painful fangs into any part of her exposed flesh.

Sukiyo looked up at the grey sky for a moment, hoping to catch some sort of sunlight that might be filtering through the thick clouds.

But there was none.

There was never any sunlight on the mountain.

Her body was weak, she could sense her breathing technique was no use in this climate.

Giyuu had told her that, he warned her to use her training carefully.

Snow had began to fall softly now all around her, coating her pale blue kimono with white.

Holding out her palm she watched the snow flakes melt against the warmth of her hand.

Her fingertips were bright red, shoving them into her pockets for warmth, she scanned the open path carefully.

It had been three days in this horrible climate, and she managed to kill 10 lowly demons.

But the more she travelled, the more the demons became stronger, more agile and much more hungry.

Forcing herself to continue walking, she kept a tight grip on her sword, her pale green eyes watching the shadows amongst the tree line.

Night would fall soon, she needed to set up camp quickly if she wanted to catch any sleep.

Snapping off low hanging branches, Suki tucked the wood under her arm and chose a spot beneath a huge tree that offered protection against the harsh weather.

While making a small camp fire, she noticed a flash of plum red from the darkness.

Grabbing her sword she stood, scanning the area for any potential threat.

But it was utter silence. Not even the snow made a sound.

“You’re stance is all wrong hashira~” A low masculine voice purred from behind her.

Turning swiftly and slicing nothing but air, Suki could feel fear brewing inside her.

“Surely the demon slayer corps didn’t send you to kill my demons~”

Suddenly standing in front of her was a man much taller than her, his hair was jet black and curly. His eyes were sharp and malicious, a crude red colour that made her legs feel weak. He was undoubtedly beautiful, his pale skin was striking.

“I wouldn’t give the time of day to a human, let alone a hashira. And yet here I am, if your blood didn’t smell so delicious and alluring, your head would be piked onto a tree.” He continued, his tone nothing but velvet over venom.

Suki watched him carefully as she began to compose herself, although her hands trembled slightly, she didn’t let on she was terrified. Or at least she didn’t think she was.

“If you think showing me any mercy will deter me from killing you, you’re wrong.” She said, hating how her voice cracked at the end.

Muzan chucked lowly, his piercing eyes never leaving her figure.

“You amuse me~”

Suddenly his hands were at her throat, his skin cold as the icy winds that ripped past them.

Although his hold wasn’t harsh enough to choke her, she could feel his sharp needle like nails poke into her skin but not enough to break it.

“Go on, kill me.” She croaked out.

Muzan watched the girl calmly, humans were nothing to him, even hashiras. They all had the same mortal bodies, easy to kill and nothing to look at.

But she was different, not only did she have the sweetest blood he had ever smelled, but she was beautiful.

Her pale green eyes framed with lovely pale lashes to match and a splatter of freckles across her pretty face.

Her skin was milky white, almost as white as a demons.

Her body was full of curves that not even a kimono could hide.

He was utterly infatuated by this woman.

“I don’t intend to kill you. I intend to make you mine. You will do nothing but serve my every need, like now~ I’m a bit peckish~” he said smoothly before letting his hold on her neck go.

Suki collapsed into the snow with a gasp and rubbed her neck with a look of pure terror before making a clumsy move for her sword.

Muzan was upon her in an instant.

She could feel the warmth leaving her body as her kimono was ripped away, sharp teeth sunk deep into the flesh between her neck and shoulder.

The sound that left her mouth wasn’t one of pain, but unexpected pleasure.

She knew he was hurting her yet it didn’t feel like that.

“H-Hah~ Stop- please stop-“ she begged while pushing at his chest, only for her wrists to be snagged by his hand and held firmly above her head.

“Allow yourself to enjoy it my dear, I don’t usually want my meals to feel good. But you make the most beautiful sounds~” Muzan cooed, a sinister smirk on his face.

Suki looked up at him from the snow, her naked body shivering in the cold, she could see her blood smeared across his lips and dripping down his chin.

Words.

She couldn’t find words, or form a sentence to even comprehend what he had said.

“You’re blood tastes even better when you’re aroused~ But the snow is taking it away, I’ll take you somewhere better~”

Those were the last words Suki heard before falling into unconsciousness.

When she awoke, her surroundings were different. She no longer was in the mountains but in a lavish bedroom, naked.

Quickly sitting up, Suki shivered while bringing her knees up to her chest.

She felt very vulnerable and small, her heart fluttered with nerves as her eyes moved over to the door.

Shakily slipping down from the bed, she padded over to it and quickly opened it only to become face to face with Muzan.

His eyes flashed with irritation and moved into the room, forcing Suki to back up until she hit the bed from his advancement.

He slapped her, swiftly and harshly.

She fell to her side on the bed and just looked up at him with watery eyes of confusion and hurt.

“You will never try to open this door again unless I say otherwise. Do you hear me, hashira?~” he said in calm manner as he lowered himself on the bed.

Suki nodded, her cheek throbbing in agony as her eyes darted away to conceal the fact she was on the verge of tears.

Muzan smiled softly, admiring the way her lower lip trembled and eyes watered over.

“Go ahead. Cry~” he cooed while moving closer to her.

“W-why are you so mean-“ she whimpered while curling in on herself, the question was so stupid and outrageous it made Muzan laugh heartily.

“Oh my dear, you have no idea do you?~” he teased before pulling her closer to him.

Suki was painfully aware of her body being exposed, Muzans eyes never left her skin. She was terrified for what was about to come.

His hands easily pushed her legs apart, exposing her pink slit.

“Don’t.” She whispered while her face flushed crimson, the cold air seemingly lapped at her exposed pussy.

Muzan wasn’t listening, he studied her in a way that made her feel self conscious and wanted to hide everything from him.

His fingers moved to her soft clit and began swiftly rubbing circles as his other hand moved towards her twitching hole.

Sukis eyes fluttered closed, her stressed expression gone, it felt like heaven between her legs and she couldn’t deny it further.

“Hah~” she panted softly while gripping the sheets as her cunt throbbed and ached for a release.

Muzan watched her carefully. “It seems like you’re finally enjoying yourself~”

Suki opened her eyes and looked up at him before her face contorted into pure pleasure, Muzan smirked to himself as the pad of his finger rubbed over her g spot melodically.

The knot in Sukis stomach tightened and snapped, pure euphoria rushed down her body as she creamed around Muzans fingers, her face flushing from embarrassment and shame.

“Hah~” Her breath came out in small heated puffs.

Muzan pulled his hands away from her pussy and looked down at her wordlessly with a calm expression.

“I can tell by your scent alone, that you’re a virgin.” He said. “Which is why this will be so much more fun~”

Suki trembled slightly while trying to control her erratic breathing “I’m scared.”

Muzan raised a brow for a moment before smiling in a good natured way, “You certainly should be, there’s many of my demons that either want to devour you while others want to fulfill there sexual appetites. You won’t be harmed, I promise.”

Sukis eyes glanced towards the door, the hair on her body raising on fear.

Suddenly standing Muzan adjusted his hat and flashed his dark eyes over to her.

“There will be one of my demons stopping by later to have you fitted for new kimonos. They will take care of you and I expect no trouble on your end. I would hate to punish you~” he purred before turning away and left without another word.

Suki just breathed softly before collapsing into a fit of tears, all she wanted right now was her home.

“Please find me..” she prayed softly while lowering her head tiredly, wondering if the others even noticed that she was gone…

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a/n: I was so nervous to post this ngl, part 2 is coming soon tho <3

#muzan kibutsuji #kimetsu no yaiba muzan #muzan x reader #demon slayer muzan #yandere muzan #muzan jackson #kny muzan #demon slayer #kimetsu anime #oc #smut #demon slayer smut #muzan icons #tumbler

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