#something isn't right [ unbecoming ]
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church — chase atlantic
' i'm about to take you back to church
well, tell me your confessions, baby, what's the worst ?
baptize in your thighs 'til it hurts
cuz i'm about to take you back to church '
requested
you were sunday's favorite. as pure as a lamb, his perfect little toy that he could do whatever he wanted with, even though he wouldn't tell you to your face. no, his actions said all that he needed to say, there was no need to speak his favoritism openly when you accepted him so easily.
you, his darling favorite, were on your knees, looking up at him from where he stood behind his pulpit, your head bowed to him in reverence, one hand curled over the other closed fist in a prayer. " forgive me, father, for i have sinned. " the words flowed effortlessly from your mouth, and he almost found himself unable to keep a calm look on his face, content with your piety.
with your head bowed, all you could hear were his footsteps as you prayed for his forgiveness. fingers hooked underneath your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. sunday loved this view of you on your knees in front of him, your eyes begging for a forgiveness that he was so willing to give, for a price.
" tell me of your sins, " his voice was as smooth as butter, his hand never leaving your chin, forcing you to look directly into his eyes as you confessed. and of course you would, who were you to ever disobey a direct order from sunday ?
" i have.. been touching myself, father, " you admitted, and he swore he could see you melt underneath his piercing gaze. " i know it's wrong, so every time i.. get close, i stop. i know it's not right to orgasm with such sinful intentions, but i.. father, the need.. these sinful urges are taking over my body, my mind. everything. i can't stop thinking about being touched by another. "
sunday is a man who's mind always precedes before his bodily needs. but with you looking up at him, begging him to do something to help you with your urges, even he couldn't turn a blind eye to his favorite believer in need, now could he ?
" this is quite unbecoming of you. i can't even begin to describe my disappointment in you, " although his voice was gentle, his words were biting, reminding you of your place beneath his elegance and divinity. he had the ability to be kind, but he could also ruin you. you could bend to his will, or you could break. he didn't care either way, as long as he had you right where he wanted you.
" i'm sor- "
" i'm afraid apologizing isn't going to make up for your actions. you know as well as i do that acting on such carnal desires are nothing short of blasphemy, " his lips curled into a smirk as he guided your head closer to him, your body leaning in subtly to his, until you were just inches away from him, and his legs were on either side of your body.
" how can i trust you not to act on these desires again ? one should, no, one must ensure that you never act senselessly again. be not afraid, i will take care of your desires. your reverence has never faltered, my precious devotee. i would not be in this position above you if i could not qualm your running thoughts, your aching body. "
" father, please, " you pleaded, the words falling off of your lips like you were about to cry, your bottom lip pouting just a little bit. " i cannot continue to live like this with these thoughts. i need you, father. " you were in the corner of his cage, caught up in his web of desires, but even if the door were open, you would stay.
" then worship me, " sunday commanded, his tone leaving no room for arguments. you only nodded, breathless, as your eyes so lewdly flickered down to his crotch just inches away from your face, his free hand unzipping his silver pants, the sound of the teeth of his pants coming undone enough to make your head spin. you hadn't realized that his hand on your chin had loosened, allowing you to look at him as he freed himself from his pants.
he wouldn't take his clothing off completely, that was entirely off of the table. even when committing such baseless desires. no, he was teaching you how to properly worship a man like him. your god. his hands were clean of sin, it was yours that needed his grace. what was the most efficient way of giving you the body of god himself ?
you didn't need to be told twice to worship him, something that sunday admired from you, always so obedient in everything that he said. you took his cock into your mouth, letting the fat tip of it rest on your flat tongue for a moment as you looked up at him, swearing the sun was in your eyes the way his bright golden eyes were looking down at you, scrutinizing your every move.
sunday didn't move, needing you to prove that you could do such a simple task without his assistance, and a god does not chase after his people, and you did not disappoint. your pretty lips wrapped around his cock so perfectly, your head bobbing up and down as you sucked, eliciting small groans of pleasure from him. drool slipped through your lips and onto your cute little white church dress, dampening the fabric.
your eyebrows were creased together as you worked your warm mouth along his shaft, your focus evident. although he was the one being pleasured, you looked like you were in ecstasy, losing yourself in his pleasure, cock drunk and only thinking about the way his precum tasted in your mouth, like holy water.
" what a perfect little lamb, " sunday purred, his chest rising and falling quickly, his bottom lip in between his teeth. you looked up at him the moment he spoke, your eyes cloudy with desire, but still determined to listen to his every word, hanging off of them as if they were your commandments. " purifying you from within, yes, this is the ideal. my innocent, pure acolyte. your defiling of your own body was sacrilegious, but don't worry. i'll save you. "
sunday was sure controlling you was his claim, his birthright. he could give and take away from you freely as he wished, and you were to give him your everything. and in turn for your everything, of course he could give you his blessings, in the form of exactly what you craved from him. as your mouth worked up and down his cock, the lewd sounds filling up the otherwise silent church, echoing within these holy walls, he felt the pressure threatening to burst out at any moment.
his hand grabbed your hair a little tighter than he expected to, quickly pulling you off of his cock. you hesitated for a moment, the suddenness of his actions catching you off guard, momentarily breaking the spell he had you under, your eyebrows furrowed together as you looked up to him. his free hand gripped his own cock, stroking the length with rhythmic strokes.
" did you think that i would be so generous ? " he asked, his voice holding a hint of condescension. " beg for it. beg for my blessing. beg for your god. "
" fa- g-god- " you stuttered out, his hand in your hair holding your head at the right angle so you could look up at him with your big, doey eyes. you weren't even looking at his ministrations in front of you, solely focused on his face, his radiance. " please- please, i need your blessing, god. i need you to bless this sinful body of mine with your holiness, " the words fell from your lips like a prayer, a mantra that he'd have you repeat over and over again. " my god, please. "
sunday felt his need come to a fever pitch at your prayers, and he threw his head back, moans slipping out as his orgasm exploded outside of him, coating you in his essence. thick ropes of cum splattered onto your face and chest, covering your hair and your forehead like the crown of thorns. his hand dropped his cock, letting it rest on your face, covering one of your eyes as his tip leaked cum into your hair even more as he caught his breath subtly.
" such devotion, your baptism has cleared you partly from your sins. " he murmured, finally releasing your hair, his eyes on how lewd you looked covered in his cum, his cock resting on your face as if that was all you were good for. but his price had been paid, and now he was ready to grant you his forgiveness. " go, sit in the pew. spread your legs for me, and i'll take care of the sins plaguing the inside of your body, too, where the baptism has not yet reached. don't worry, i will make sure your body is completely free of sin, inside and outside, my little dove. "
#honkai star rail#hsr fanfic#honkai sr#honkai star rail x reader#x reader#honkai star rail smut#hsr x reader#sunday#sunday hsr#sunday honkai star rail#sunday x reader smut#sunday x reader#hsr sunday x reader#smut drabble#hsr smut#sunday smut#star rail sunday
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🗡️Edward Midford and Autism coding 🗡️
During my Hiatus from the Kuroshitsuji fandom, I got diagnosed with autism. It took me some time to come to terms with that and to figure myself out.
I returned to the Kuro fandom last summer, due to (what I now come to recognize as) my longtime special Interest finally getting an anime adaptation and upon rereading some of my favourite arcs, I came to the realisation that I see a lot of my (and my peers) autistic traits in Edward. What's interesting about this character is that he has a lot of autistic traits, that are not really touched upon in media. So lets get into it!
The gentleman extreme (and how everything is taken a bit too literal/seriously):
In his introduction in chapter 52 he is shown to uphold the same beliefs as his mother, scolding his sister for behaving in an unbecoming manner. He's shown to be very close to his family and strictly upholds their values of protection. At first one may assume he is just like his mother, but it is quickly revealed that he is far more ridiculous. His upholding of his gentleman status is often paired with anger, such as in chapter 58, where he scolds other men for not letting women and children go on the lifeboats first (king behaviour) and also being the one to later recommend to look for more survivors. He has a strong code of ethics and upholds it, even if it is seen as ridiculous or even dangerous.
When it comes to clothing, he also upholds strict values and instantly gets flustered and afraid when that standard is not upheld, to the point where he needs physical distance and shields his eyes.
From these tidbits already we can observe that he is ridiculously formal, upholding the social decorum to the very extreme. While autistic individuals are known for their non-conformity, they are also known to accidentally not conform by confirming too much and following instructions to every detail. I fall into both extremes, but I definitely stick to the latter when it comes to social interactions.
I think Edward definitely falls into that category, because he represents how ridiculous the Victorian code of ethics and etiquette can be if upheld at all times. I may dabble into headcannon territory again, but I strongly believe that knighthood and the chivalry connected to it is something like a special interest for him, which contributes to the way he acts.
Aggression and volume:
In his introduction he yells at his future brother in law. A complete overreaction and incredibly ironic considering his previous scolding regarding etiquette. This happens multiple times, especially when confronted with Ciel his gentlemanly behaviour suddenly turns into childish banter. He is usually soft spoken but can be louder if he is simply commanded to do so.
Volume control is something a lot of autistic people struggle with. For me it's especially when talking about special interests or talking to a person who interrupts me A LOT. I am quiet and do not speak often, so when I do I must make the most of it.
Based on cannon evidence, I believe that Edward may struggle with this too. He's loud to get his point across, because he believes that loudness will make others listen to him.
Spiky hair, in this economy?
So we all know Frances and her strict rules regarding men's hair, right? Everything has to be slicked back and she thinks Sebastians hair is atrocious (so do I). So why is it that her son is the only one allowed to run around with this type of hairstyle? Alexis has very nicely brushed back hair, Elizabeths is also nicely done. Isn't it strange that she makes an exception for ONE family member?
So here is where I dabble into headcannons, because I think the exception was made because he has sensory issues regarding his hair. He doesn't like it slicked back in any way and feels uncomfortable with any product in his hair.
Once again, heavily falling into headcannons, so take this one with a grain of salt.
Elizabeth and her influence:
Edward is incredibly attached to her sister. Mainly being protective of her and not trusting other men (especially his brother in law) to treat her with the respect she deserves. He knows and appreciates her skill and knows she's incredibly capable. So...why is he so attached?
Elizabeth is an important catalyst for his behaviour, because it shows the extremes of his gentleman code. His good manners instantly turn into ridiculous aggression as soon as he sees something that he views as a threat to her. Despite his behaviour towards Ciel, he does care about him, because he realises how important he is to his sister. Elizabeth is a person of comfort for Edward. He admires her talent and sees her as a valuable family member who has been through a lot of hurt.
Autistic individuals often have trouble with boundaries and attach themselves onto others quickly, which leads to them unintentionally treating them incorrectly. This is definitely the case here, since he gives little (social) agency to Elizabeth for the sake of her protection. He genuinely cares about her but is unable to set healthy boundaries, because his way of emphaphy differs from the social norm.
Masking and copying behaviour:
What is interesting about Edward is how he copies the behaviour of others. He has a role model and copies their behaviour because he desires to master it. So why does he do that?
My answer is masking. Edward genuinely admires these people, but is unsure of how to adapt their skills in his own way, so he copies them. This is something we can often see in masking. Behaviour that is seen as acceptable by society is often copied by autistic individuals to blend into society. I think for Edward it's a combination of masking and admiration. His strong upholding of the Gentleman code also fits well into this category.
Beyond that, the Blue cult arc also proves that he able to severely alter the way he behaves, if needed. Does he feel comfortable with that? Absolutely not. But he does have the great ability to do so if instructed, which proves to yet be another factor for him masking his behaviour.
Mediocrity in a Neurotypical society:
So Edward had this nice monologue about him being mediocre compared to his prodigy sister and I think it is exactly this scene, which makes me headcannon him as autistic. Because this is the exact trait I do not see often.
In media, many autistic individuals are represented as prodigies and amazingly intelligent and I can't help but hate that stereotype, because it puts unrealistic expectations on disabled individuals. I have prodigy friends who are autistic and I truly admire them, but I need people to understand that autism is a disability and not just "socially incompetent person who is going to revolutionise the world". As soon as one's interest is not deemed useful by society (which mainly includes "feminine" interests), they are not validated. Autism is only accepted by society if it proves to be impressive or useful. It is not seen as a disability, but as something to exploit.
I like Edwards monologue, because I relate and it rounds out his character really well. He accepts that he is not a prodigy, that he sucks in many regards, but that he still looks up to those who fit into the standard. His monologue is something that I've truly taken into heart, because you do not need to be a prodigy to be valid, you should not need to be extraordinary to be accepted as you are. You are allowed to be mediocre. You are allowed to treat your disability as a disability, because that's what it is.
Lastly:
Please remember that most of this is based on my personal expenses with autism. It is an incredibly diverse neuro divergency and manifests itself differently in all sorts of ways. Many of these traits may not apply to you or to anyone you know. This is just a personal observation based on my own and my companions experiences.
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Binary Star
Part I
Pairing: academic rival!Satoru Gojo x reader
Warnings: yandere, obsession, power play, hurt/comfort, no curse au, this series will get darker as the story progresses.
Words: 1.2k
Summary: It has to pay off, he thinks as he waits for the headmaster to finally announce the valedictorian, knowing she is there too, shifting from one foot to the other impatiently. What face is she going to make when his name will be called? Is she going to cry? To yell at him and publicly demand a re-evaluation? Or will she, perhaps, finally admit he's done a fantastic job and won fair and square?
____________
He is really going to get her this time. This is the finish line, quite literally: the graduation; his last attempt to win and emerge victorious from the very last battle between him and her. It has to be it.
If he couldn't win against her for the last time, Gojo would probably have a mental breakdown right in the middle of the ceremony. Geto standing right next to him rolls his eyes to the ceiling over his friend who's shaking from excitement and fear. Of course, Satoru wouldn't admit it even under torture, but Suguru knows better. The girl his friend has been competing with throughout high school isn't just smart: she's completely insane like Gojo and as big pain in the ass as him. Who knows, perhaps she'll really win this round. He prefers not to think of it.
Satoru searches for her in the crowd, standing on his toes despite already being a foot taller than anyone else in the hall. Is she here? This nightmarish woman who has been pushing him to give high school his all because she dared to take away his crown of the best student during their freshman year? When Satoru saw the scores, he thought he might have had a heart attack. There was no way he was no longer #1.
"That's what you get for messing around the chem lab," Shoko snorted while Satoru dumbly stared at the name of that annoying girl, always the teachers' pet, heading the list. His name was written right under hers.
What the actual fuck?! She got a better score than him? Him, the genius, with his undeniably superior IQ of 180 that he flaunted at any given time? Who did she think she was, Sheldon Cooper or something?
It got him so fired up he actually started studying.
"You're so dumb," Geto eventually said after his friend had gotten in the argument with the girl during their ethics class - again. "You know you could be making out with her now, right? She's the only person who could actually get along with your stubborn ass."
"Wha-a-at? What about you?" Immediately disregarding his question, Satoru was already pouting like a kid. "Wouldn't you date me?"
"Yeah, over my dead fucking body."
To be fair, it's not that Gojo never thought of her that way - she was pretty, even if he was never going to admit it out loud - but she was also so insufferable Gojo really couldn't focus on anything else but beating her in that game they were playing. The best score on the history exam? They both wanted it. Math test? Him and her were working on those questions as if their lives depended on it. Biology project? Satoru made sure to do the impossible, submitting something he would get a Noble prize for, and yet he still somehow managed to get the same grade as her. It was absolutely infuriating.
Why on Earth did she decide she could be better than him? He was Satoru Gojo, after all. The one and only son of Gojo family, who was not only embarrassingly rich but also fucking smart - his parents used to flaunt his talents throughout his whole childhood and continued doing it well into adulthood. He couldn't tell them he was no longer #1. What would his mother say? Dear God, it was hard to imagine what would happen to his father of he learned some random girl got a better grade for that English paper than him. It was, at the very least, unbecoming of Satoru.
But she was unrelenting, irritated with his status of the school genius, and ready to fight him on every occasion. Satoru had no idea what could piss her off so much - in the end, he was the most charming guy around, wasn't he? - but there wasn't a day she'd let him have his way. She was brave, persistent, and knowledgeable, and he hated her very much.
The fact that Shoko and Suguru were asking him to please get together with her and stop antagonizing the whole school only riled up Gojo even more. As if he was going to date that nerd!
When he learned she'd be running for the valedictorian, it was the last drop. No fucking way. She couldn't take it away from him - even if he had never actually cared about being a valedictorian.
If his friends had thought he was obessessing over her, now they realized Satoru went completely nuts. He started studying so much he barely slept: it was a given, considering the bags under his eyes were making his skinny ass look like a starving raccoon. Geto couldn't drag gim out even in between lessons because Satoru was immediately burying his head in the books.
It has to pay off, he thinks as he waits for the headmaster to finally announce the valedictorian, knowing she is there too, shifting from one foot to the other impatiently. What face is she going to make when his name will be called? Is she going to cry? To yell at him and publicly demand a re-evaluation? Or will she, perhaps, finally admit he's done a fantastic job and won fair and square?
Pfft, of course she won't. She'll probably stab him in the parking lot once he tries to get into his car.
But when the headmaster finally announces the results, and his, Satoru Gojo's, name is called, he no longer sees her in the crowd, and the sweet taste of victory suddenly turns to ashes in his mouth.
Where is she? She couldn't have known it would be him. To be frank, he didn't either. How could she leave right before the results were announced?
He gives his speech with a stupid smile plastered all over his face, but his mood has already soured. She had to be there to hear he was named this year's valedictorian! What face did she make? Did she leave right after she heard it wasn't her? Did she cry? Did she run away because she couldn't take it? Wasn't she going to say to him anything at all?
How could she just... vanish?
He doesn't know why he expected her to be the bigger person and come tell him he did great, but he truly did. Suddenly, he realizes he wants her to look him in the face and say he is good enough.
Did he need to be the bigger person, perhaps? But, wait, isn't he a bigger person by default because he's the winner, he wondered. The winner is always the bigger person if he doesn't rub loser's face in the dirt, right?
In the end, he couldn't even enjoy the victory he had been craving for so long.
"She had something urgent come up," Shoko says later in the restaurant, making a tsk-ing sound while Gojo listens to her with a frown on his face. "Something about her family."
Something about her family? What could be as important as the announcement of valedictorian?
"Are you dumb?" With a sigh, Suguru cocks his head to the side. "Plenty of things are more important than this valedictorian crap."
Maybe to somebody else, but not to her, Satoru thinks. Beating him has always been the only thing on her mind, and nothing could have changed that.
__________
He will be mulling over it for a long, long time once he realizes she did not follow him to Harvard despite her scholarship.
Part II
Tags: @minshookie29
#yandere#satoru gojo#satoru gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk satoru
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i wanna hold the hand inside you | r.itoshi
You think of Itoshi Rin, your first love, often; the one who never was and the one who got away. Unexpectedly, you find yourself reuniting with the boy you once knew right in front of your apartment.
cw: fem!reader, reader has a habit of skin-picking, soft angst w/ happy ending, suggestive, slight hand obsession?
— ✦
You always feel uglier after you pick at your skin. Which defeats the purpose because you do it to rid yourself of an imperfection you've stumbled upon. And yet, after all is said and done and the skin has grown irritated, all you can think about is how you've only gotten uglier.
You used to pick at your face, scratching at any bumps or texture you spot in the mirror, but you've gotten better about it now. You've stopped doing it on your face altogether. It was one too many people who thought they were close enough with you to inadvertently call you ugly. You're pretty sure the first to do it had been Itoshi Sae, your neighbour two houses down. Back then, when you were only eight, you hadn't cared that he thought your habit was unbecoming. It didn't matter what Sae thought — you had Rin.
One day, you realised you didn't really have Rin either.
Since then, you've moved onto your hands.
Your face is the important part, no one ever really looks at hands. You might think about it if you were to give a handshake, but when you think of that person from memory later that day, you'll think of their face. As long as your face is left alone, it doesn't matter what happens to the skin around your nails.
But you like looking at hands. They reveal so much about someone. Whether or not they clean their nails, if they paint them, if their hands are soft or calloused — all of these things are like clues that fit together to form the bigger picture of their life. Your own hands must give away the parts of you that you would prefer to stay hidden — like the fact that you pick at your skin. Itoshi Rin has beautiful hands. His hands were pretty enough that you were glad he played a sport that relied on his legs and feet instead. You never told him that you thought so; he probably would have called you strange should he have found out.
He never seemed to value you in the same way you valued him.
You pull at your skin again, pushing it down with the edge of your nail just until you feel the sharp sting of it having gone too far. It's boring at your job, nothing much to do or see. You sit on an ergonomic moving chair behind a large wooden desk, adjusting calendars and making appointments. There isn't much mystique to your job, nothing to write home about, but it gets you through life just fine. Glancing over at the time, you decide to click through and answer a few more emails in time for lunch to roll around.
In junior high, you had wanted to be an artist. You joined the art club and begged your family to let you participate in painting and sketching classes. You kept sketchbook after sketchbook filled with doodles and things — mostly of hands. It's been a long running obsession of yours. You used to draw faces but ever since you stopped messing with your face, your drawings of them phased out too.
In senior high, a teacher told you that artists don't make money from drawing hands all day. It irked you enough that you let go of that dream. You wanted to become a nail technician, you decided. The day you changed your dream, you went to tell the only person you considered close enough to tell; you went to tell Rin. It was that day that you had to come to the startling realisation that your best friend didn't seem to consider you much of a friend anymore. You spent all of your lunch break looking for him, only to find him practising at the field behind your school. When you called out to him, he ignored you. He stopped answering your texts too. You discarded the sliver of hope you had kept safe within your chest — the very thing that made you believe you would get Rin back soon. Something had changed in him and you didn't know what because he never told you.
(Because he never seemed to value you in the same way you valued him.)
You found other friends. Rin always seemed to be alone. He pulled out of school for a football program a week later, and you decided to give up on becoming a nail technician.
There's a soft beep that rings out from your phone — just one singular chime at the lowest volume you set on your first day on the job — when it's time for your lunch break. You always take it at the same tonkatsu shop seven minutes away from your place of work.
Today, it takes you ten minutes to get there because the heels you've chosen to wear are new ones; you haven't broken them in yet. You bought them for a date that you never ended up going to. Guilt over standing them up had consumed you but you just couldn't muster up the courage to go. You were all too aware of the fact that some pathetic part of you was still clinging onto a boy you haven't seen for a long time.
You remember the brush of the wind through his fringe, the sharp determined glint in his emerald eyes. You still hold onto the way his name once had a home at the tip of your tongue. Even as the years pass, Itoshi Rin digs his teeth into your skin and remains with you; parasitic and tormenting.
You ease yourself into the table in the corner and make your order, scrolling through your phone while you wait. Your feed is full of recent news, some things you understand and others you're not quite sure you get. Rin is there too, mixed in between all the posts about celebrities and new dramas. You were always bad at watching football. You were bad with most sports, they could never keep your interest for long, but you tried for Rin's sake. When the both of you were younger, you'd sit on the grass at the park and watch Rin run through the drills he'd seen his brother do earlier.
As you stare at the pictures of him standing on the pitch, stadium lights spilling down on him, you can't help but feel proud. Sweat glistens along his hairline, his hair still cut in the same way he used to have it when you knew him. The captain's armband is stretched tight around his bicep as his arm curls to hold up a trophy.
The swell in your chest comes with an ache you've never learned to get rid of. This ache that's ever-present, always there like a guest you can't seem to send home. It had only been a small sting when your friendship with Rin fully fell apart, but it grew tenfold when you realised you were in love with him. You pick at your skin again, the same place from earlier. Pain blooms at your fingertip but you choose to ignore it as you scroll past the pictures; your heart squeezes and shudders against your will, even after all these years.
The day inches past, sweat gathers along the nape of your neck. You leave the building at five precisely, stagger into the subway station at half past five, and sink into a navy blue seat at a quarter to six. The backs of your brand new heels dig into your ankles and you're certain there will be blisters when you yank them off at home.
Even still, your day has been a good one. Despite the fact that your mother had called and urged you to visit home; despite today marking the anniversary you first met Itoshi Rin; despite the way your heart always sinks at the realisation that you still remember the significance of what should be another meaningless day. Despite it all, it had been good and you stare at the passerby walking along the platform, head pressed against the cool window.
(You wonder about Rin once more, like you always do. You wonder if he's walking amongst a crowd this evening, perhaps something fried in his hand, keeping his palm warm. Maybe he's holding a drink instead — lukewarm green tea. In another world, it might have been your hand.)
The train shakes to a start, rocking you from side to side and it becomes impossible to keep yourself awake. You drift off to the memory of a boy you once knew.
-
You're sure you're bleeding.
The skin around your index nail is irritated, throbbing with a dull pain. Similarly, there's a sting — a quick flash of something white hot up your left calf — whenever you take a step. Your blister must have turned into a cut.
Your soles scrape against the road, shoulders loose and hunched forward as you meander your way home. The sun has set, disappearing into the skyline in the distance as the sky grows darker and the wind picks up. Streetlights have flickered to life and you pass by a salon still packed with customers, women resting against soft cushions as they converse. You roll your neck from side to side, attempting to release some of the tension that has gathered along your muscles from staying seated almost all day, fingers loosely wrapped around the straps of your bag.
Eyes trained on the fading white marks beneath your feet, you turn the corner into the alleyway you apartment building sits in. There's a crunch of someone taking a step towards you, and then — the call of your name, familiar, wrapped up in the gravelly tone of a voice too rough to belong to the boy you once knew. But you know it's him, anyway.
"Rin?" you tilt your head to the side, scanning over his features as he stands against the sunlight, soft shadows marking his pale skin. He remains silent, almost stunned as he stands across from you, so you speak again, "It's been a while."
He doesn’t smile, but the corners of his mouth twitch in a way that suggests one. Rin is wearing a dark windbreaker, hands stuffed into its pockets. There's a loose thread hanging off the cuff around his wrist, a tiny rip of the outer fabric revealing the slight grey beneath. He clears his throat, "Yes, it has been." There's a pause then, neither of you willing to bridge the gap in conversation as the exhaust fans whir quietly.
"How have you been?" Rin asks, taking a step towards you. You can smell him now, flowery and sweet; its lavender, which is what you had remembered him as. In a way, it comforts you — some things will stay the same and stand the test of time, no matter how many years have inched by.
“I’ve been good,” you hum. Truthfully, you haven’t quite been good in a long time. You’ve been alright, you’ve made it from day to day, you pay your bills on time and you see your friends every other weekend; but it’s not good — it's just alright. You don’t think Rin needs to hear that, not after how long it has been since you last heard his voice following after your own.
It's strange to think about how his mother knows your name and your face, knows that you like lemonade with some raspberry in it; how Rin was there to witness the way you got every fading scar on your arms and legs. Standing before him now, you don't even know what his apartment might look like. Your lives, which were once so intricately intertwined, have unravelled and diverged to the point of obscurity.
You've given him the room to say something, continue the conversation or choose to end it, but Rin is quiet as he takes you in. His brows are furrowed, just a shaky line above his dark eyes as watches you fidget and begin to grow uncomfortable under the weight of stare.
This silence is far too heavy of a burden for you to shoulder, so you cut through with a question that seems a bit out of place now. "What are you doing here?"
Your voice seems to snap him out of whatever trance he was previously in, "I was out on a walk — wandering around, I guess." Rin shuffles even closer and the wind billows, rustling the fabric of his windbreaker. You watch his hair flutter and fall against his forehead.
"I would have thought that you'd be busy all the time, seeing as you're a celebrity now," you say with a soft laugh, twisting the ends of your coat between your fingers while your bag swings gently from side to side in your other hand.
He doesn't seem to like that, gaze sharpening just a bit as his mouth curves into a frown. You chew on your bottom lip, feeling a bottomless pit open up inside of your stomach at the realisation that it's become so much harder to talk to the boy who used to be your best friend. (To talk to the boy who you used to love — who you are willing to love once again.)
It's getting colder as the remaining tendrils of sun slowly disappear, hiding away to make room for the moon to shine. You nod at your apartment, "Would you...like to come inside?" You expect him to say no, after all, the two of you are no longer the people you remember each other to be.
Surprisingly, Rin perks up at your question, firmly nodding once. He follows after you as you walk over to your front door, fishing around the front pocket of your bag for your keys. Rin stands a hair's width away from you, his warm breath fanning over the back of your neck and goosebumps ripple down your arms.
You watch him study your home, scrutinising your choice of decor — the small pictures framed on the walls, magazines and books strewn about — as he takes off his shoes. He seems to be drawn to the picture resting on one of your shelves: it's of you and him, years ago, standing next to each other with smiles full of missing teeth that look more like grimaces. You were hoping he wouldn't notice that one, one of the only pictures you've kept of and from your childhood, but you can't blame him for it either. Had it been you, that picture would have been the first one you noticed too.
"You kept this?" he's nearly whispering as he gently takes the ageing framed photo in his hands.
You rest your bag on the floor, "Yeah. Mom gave it to me right before I moved out." He turns back to look at you and his next words are unspoken, but still so loud.
You hadn't just kept it — you framed it, placed it in your living room for everyone to see. His expression crumbles momentarily, a quiet admission of guilt that settles in the short distance between you. Rin must not have kept much of you with him. He never says it outright, but you know better. Maybe that should leave you feeling bitter but it's somehow exactly what you expected of him.
Has Itoshi Rin changed at all from the last time you saw him? Do you just know him too well?
Dusting off your clothes, you take a deep breath, "It's getting late. Want dinner?"
Rin agrees. Like you were expecting him to.
-
You've never liked beer.
But you find yourself peering into a glass full of it as Rin settles in across from you. You're still in your work attire, the waistband of your skirt digging into your stomach after your full meal. Rin's left his windbreaker in a crumpled heap of fabric beside his chair, the tip of his finger drawing lines in the condensation forming on his glass. His nails are well-groomed, cut short and clean. They might be better than yours, but that’s because Rin doesn’t pick at his skin like you do. You stare until you think you shouldn’t anymore.
He hasn't gotten up to leave. You haven't kicked him out.
Resting your cheek against your fist, you push yourself forward, closer to him. Your slight movement draws his attention away from the glass, Rin looks up at you as his frown eases up.
"It's strange seeing you," you admit, more open to honesty thanks to your slight state of inebriation. "Strange seeing you after so many years."
"You have that picture," he scoffs, jerking his head in the vague direction of the picture of the two of you as kids.
Scrunching up your nose, you lean back against the chair, "Yeah, but you don't look like that anymore. You're taller and you have too many teeth." You take a sip of your beer, feeling it fizz against your top lip, "And you're probably meaner now."
He startles, looks offended when he throws back whatever's left in his glass. "I'm not mean."
You raise a brow, "You were already pretty mean when you left me." You shock yourself at how easily the words slipped past your lips, how little hesitation there was. How you still sounded so hurt over it all despite having spent years convincing yourself that you didn't miss him. The treacherous muscle beating within your ribcage twists and shakes. It only takes a moment for understanding to soften the glare Rin is giving you. Reaching over, you grab the can of beer to refill his glass, cursing under your breath when you realise it's empty. "I'll get some more — just wait."
You dig around in your refrigerator and you can feel Rin watching. "You're bleeding," he says.
"It's nothing," you wave him off, returning with another cold can.
He shakes his head, "Do you have bandages?"
And so you find yourself with your chest pressed against the cushions of your couch, ankles hanging off the edge. You spare Rin a glance over your shoulder, awkwardness leaving you silent and rigid. He's kneeling beside you, holding two bandages he insisted he get for you from the years old first aid kit stashed away in your medicine cabinet.
"You don't have to do this you know," you mumble, pinching at the inside of your cheek with your teeth. "I could have done it myself."
Rin gently grabs your ankle, his fingers are cold enough to make you jolt. "It's fine," he brushes off your words with nothing more than a grumble. "This could get infected," he adds on as he places the band-aid over the cut.
His hands are on you, fingers wrapped around your ankle almost completely. He skims them over your skin and you suppress a shiver. You think you should tell him that his hands are pretty — that they have always been pretty — but you bite your tongue.
Your cuts don't hurt as much as they had earlier, and the blood surrounding them has dried down. You're sure nothing would have come of it being left uncovered, but Rin seems adamant on doing this simple task for you. You wonder if part of it has anything to do with being labelled as "mean."
He shuffles over to your other ankle, jeans brushing against your rug, as does the same thing. It's been too long since you've been taken care of like this — the feeling has become wholly foreign and you struggle to sit still while Rin smooths out the band-aid over your skin. When he stands up, you twist around and slouch your back against the couch, facing him.
Rin looms over you. He brushes some hair out of his eyes and sits down next to you. "I'm on a break — I'll be around a lot more."
You glance at him from the corner of your eye, "Around to see me?"
And perhaps, you're imagining it, the way he moves closer so that his thigh is pushed up against it. Perhaps, you're imagining how he's leaned into you. Rin's temple makes contact with your shoulder and you exhale.
"Yes," he whispers, looking up at you through his lashes." To see you." You can recognise the guilt swimming in his gaze, leftover from earlier in the evening.
You wish he would just say it — say sorry — but your heart yearns for him regardless of what he's said and what he should have said. It's ridiculous; it was years ago and you should have moved on. (And you know that the only reason it hurt as badly as it did was the fact that you had loved him twice as much when things soured.) You're motivated by the ache you've grown accustomed to when you bring your hand to his hair, digging your fingers in, scratching at his scalp. Much like a cat, Rin goes limp against you and you trace the side of his face with the pad of your thumb.
You try to hide your other hand, feeling somewhat self-conscious about the way you’ve torn it up. Rin reaches for it without a second thought, lacing his fingers together with your own, oblivious to all the rough parts you’ve left behind with your habit.
"What if I don't want to see you?" you question. You don't really mean it — you hope he knows.
You can feel his breath, feel the rise and fall of his chest as he speaks, "I would wait until you said you wanted to."
"Even if that took years?" You pause your movements, hand still in his hair. Rin draws a gasp out from you when he presses a fluttering kiss against your wrist — a nervous kiss, one that tests the waters.
"Even then," he says.
You don't know who leans in first, you want to say it's Rin but you, with your years of yearning, are not to be trusted either. His cold palms cup your face, lips parting against your own, his tongue meeting yours. He kisses you hungrily, eagerly, desperate to make up for years of lost time and memories that were meant to be shared by two but left to be held by just one instead. It almost hurts — when his teeth sink into your lip and you whimper, Rin snaps his eyes open. He licks over where he bit, fingers digging into your cheeks.
You like the feeling of his hands on you. You want them everywhere, you decide. Rin tugs at your collar, unbuttons your shirt quickly, his hands splayed out over your sides and just grazing your bra. It's only then that you pull away, chest heaving as you stare up at him.
"Will you discard me again?" Your voice sounds almost meek in a way; you're afraid of what he might say and of what you might see. Too scared to see him hesitate, too scared to meet his eyes and not see yourself reflected in them.
But Rin's answer is instantaneous. His gaze has darkened some, lust-blown and riddled with the yearning that's been growing in your chest for years. His palm encircles your wrist, the other wraps around your waist chasing purchase. "Never," he says with a kind of conviction that leaves butterflies erupting at your fingertips.
While his hand travels up your back, he kisses you again and this time it feels different. He moves up your wrist, intertwining your fingers once more. You know you have him in all the ways that he has you.
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Hyahime presents: That time when a jsk became an ironing board cover..
Today i'm sharing a classic from cgl many of you have definitely heard about: The ironing board fiasco. The story of a girl, her dad's fiance and many feels.
Everything started when OP shared this image and said the following:
Due to some unusual circumstances, I'm currently living in a partially-renovated house with my dad and his fiancé.
His fiancé is a very sweet lady who is very thrifty. She makes all her own clothes and and will usually find a practical use for something, rather than throw it out (i.e recycling old bottles and jars to pot plants).
I had a Baby The Stars Shine Bright Strawberry and Cherry Ruffle jumperskirt that I didn't wear anymore, so I was planning to sell it. From memory, it cost about $400.
I put it out in the main room next to a pile of clothes I planned to donate to Good Sammies, so I'd remember to take photos of it for the sale. I then went away for a week to visit my grandparents
When I came back, I noticed the pile of clothes had disappeared. Cool, my dad and/or his fiancé had donated them for me. But wait… Where was the jumperskirt?
It was then that I saw the sight portrayed in the uploaded. My dress had been cut up to to make an ironing board cover and a tablecloth. I don't know where the rest of the material is.
It appeared that my dad's fiancé had assumed the jumperskirt was part of the donation pile, and thought there was no harm in 'recycling' it for her own uses. In her efforts to pretty up the concrete-y wasteland of a house, she had unknowingly destroyed an expensive brand dress.
Literally the only thing I could do in that moment was stare blankly. I can't even be mad at her, she had no idea.
So now I have a BTSSB ironing board and table cloth.
the story immediately caught the attention of users as they scrolled. Some found it terrible, others couldn't help but laugh..
Though some were quick to say it must've been fake.
So.. did OP fake this for attention? Let's investigate.
It is very unlikely the fabric was gathered from a replica, judging by the print details and the fact that this isn't a very sought-after or popular piece you'd see everywhere.
But how did one dress result in so much fabric?
Although it looks like a lot, one anon pointed this out:
But she knew she'd get the attention, right? ...yes, but I don't think anyone would come up with this specific odd way to recycle a lolita piece and make the community react.
OP responded to the questions and thoughts with the following:
At this point, some anons were pretty much just fighting over if it's okay for OP to be so calm or not. Which.. is a little bit weird. Others were more emotional about this than the victim themselves.
But what you may not know is.. there's more. There's more to the Kawaiironing fiasco.
Op comes back.
I queried the whereabouts of the remaining material and she showed me. She said my dad told her I was "throwing them out" (I have no idea where he drew that conclusion as i specifically said I was donating a bunch of clothes, so at the very least he should have assumed I was, you know, donating them), so she thought it was fine to cut up.
My fault anyway, didn't separate the "sell" pile from the "donate" pile.
HOWEVER…
There were a few other brand dresses I was planning to sell. I assumed they had been donated with the rest of my clothes, as they were nowhere to be found. I was a little sad about that (they were valuable Angelic Pretty, BBSTB and Metamorphose), but oh well.
Then I looked in her material bag and found they had also been cut up… When dad said I was "throwing THEM" out, he did not state a plural by accident… Pics to follow.
If anyone wants individual versions of those pics lemme know.
The loli gods frown upon me today for my unbecoming carelessness in handling burando.
Op decided to keep the truth a secret: ignorance is bliss, and her stepmother did not deserve to feel the guilt of ruining so much burando.. or to know that so many lolitas were in shambles knowing about her crafts.
..Although, anons said this wouldn't stop her from doing it again. Maybe she should know so she doesn't cut up even more dresses.
One thing is certain. that's a really cute ironing board cover. Maybe the fabric could become even more random burando stuff: headbows, little makeup bags, cup coasters, mats.. oven mitts?
Lolita home goods for all! we demand a cute life!(✧∀✧)/
#memorybox#eglfashion#jfashion#lolita fashion#egl#old school lolita#egl community#classic lolita#egl fashion#sweet lolita#gothic lolita
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Feeling you 3
Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)
Authors note: this is the last part and as I already wrote it got unexpectedly long, but I'm posting it as it is just as you voted. I really got so caugh up in this story 😅 I hope you'll enjoy it as much I enjoyed writing it
Warnings: angst, fluff, SMUT 18+
Word Count: 7,5 K
Part 1, Part 2
Tags: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @hb8301 @zillahvathek @alexagirlie @gemini-mama @verenahx @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @willowbrookesblog @thenameswinter99 @ellabellabus07 @mcbuckyyyy @kirtseinw
If you want to be added to the tag list - write to me.
You woke up with a throbbing headache, having struggled to find sleep until the early hours. The walls of the old house seemed as thin as parchment. Every sound penetrated your room – the laughter, the chatter, the clinking of mugs, and the crackling of the fireplace, all blending into a cacophony that grated your weary senses.
But it was the faint noises from the floor above that truly disrupted your rest, igniting your imagination. You briefly wondered if Eanflaed had deliberately placed your bed right beneath the room where Sihtric and Ealfwin spent the night. The thought was quickly dismissed, but couldn't you hear his voice through the thin ceiling? The blurred sounds of the muffled moans and passionate groans seemed to reach you even as you tried to block them out, covering your ears with your hands and burying your head under the pillow. It was almost dawn when your exhausted mind finally succumbed to a restless sleep, only to be woken soon after by the bustling sounds of morning chores.
"You've certainly looked better," Eanflaed remarked as she noticed you stepping into the main room, wincing when the bright daylight hit your red and swollen eyes.
"By the saints, I'd almost forgotten how thin these walls are," you grumbled, sinking into a seat and propping your aching head up with your hands. "I've ruined everything, have I not?" You added after a pause.
"Hold on, don't lose hope so quickly. Regarding Sigefried - you haven't acted in a manner unbecoming of a modest maiden. It was he who overstepped. If you wish, I can speak with him. But the real question is, do you truly want that?" Eanflaed said, a chuckle in her voice as she placed a plate of bread and cheese before you.
Her offer didn't surprise you. This was typical of Eanflaed, always resilient. Despite the hardships life had thrown at her, including losing her husband and being left to raise three young children while running an alehouse, she never faltered. Her approach was always pragmatic and thoughtful. She had a unique ability to balance her steadfast resilience with a protective nature towards her friends and the girls at the alehouse. They were like family to her, each deserving of her unwavering support.
But as much as you wished Eanflaed could solve this problem for you, you realised it was something you needed to address yourself.
"You are right, but I need to handle this myself. I have to speak with him," you said, nibbling on a piece of bread, lost in thought.
"Are you certain this is what you want?" Eanflaed's question caught you off guard, and you looked up to meet her probing eyes.
"Of course, I want it," you asserted, a hint of frustration in your tone. "I turned away a good man for... for a fleeting dream, for... nothing."
"Listen," Eanflaed said, sitting beside you and taking your hands in hers. "Who are you trying to convince? I've known you long enough. This isn't you. I know you're hurting now, but think carefully. If you accept Sigefried's proposal, it's a lifelong commitment. Don't make this choice out of hurt. You won't be able to bear it; your heart isn't made for such compromise, and I say that as a compliment.”
You gazed at Eanflaed in astonishment, trying to comprehend her words. The usually rational and sensible Eanflaed, who had often chided you for impulsively following your heart, was now advising you to reconsider what seemed like the most reasonable decision you had ever made.
It had been foolish to reject Sigefried. You had allowed yourself to be swept away by fleeting emotions and silly dreams, ignoring the stability and future that Sigefried offered. The thought of what you had almost thrown away for someone who didn’t even acknowledge your existence left a bitter taste in your mouth. It was time to face reality, and though the prospect of apologising to Sigefried was daunting, it was an unavoidable step unless you wanted to spend your life scrubbing mugs in the alehouse. If your fate was to be a whore in the disguise of a wife, you were ready to embrace it. At least you’ll be a modest and well-fed one.
With a gentle but firm motion, you freed your hands from Eanflaed’s hold and stood up from the table. “There's nothing left to think about. I had the whole night for that. I’ve made my decision.”
—--------------------------------------------------
"Look what I've got," Ealfwin announced, descending the stairs with a satisfied smile on her lips and dropping two golden rings onto the counter. Her smile widened as she watched them roll and clink across the wooden surface. Eanflaed's eyes widened in surprise.
"It was the strangest night of my life," Ealfwin laughed.
"What happened? It was that young Dane who took you upstairs, wasn't it? What did he want?" Eanflaed asked, her brow furrowed with concern.
"Oh, don't worry, it wasn't anything bad. He was so passionate, kissing me like a desperate starving man, right here at the table. But when we got upstairs and I started to undress, he suddenly told me he wasn't in the mood," Ealfwin explained, shrugging. "I was about to leave, but then he took off two of his rings and asked me to have a drink with him and stay the night. He said he didn't want to be alone."
"And then what happened?" Eanflaed probed, her curiosity evident.
"We just drank and talked. About life, the alehouse, all sorts of things. Then he asked for another pitcher of ale and told me to go to bed. I couldn't turn down such a generous offer. Just look at these rings – they're solid gold, and look at how thick they are."
"Yes, the rings are impressive. But what was he doing all this time?" Eanflaed inquired further.
"He just sat there, drinking. And this might sound odd," Ealfwin paused, licking her lips nervously before continuing, "but if I didn't know he was a Dane and one of Uhtred's fiercest warriors, I'd think he was crying."
"Crying?" Eanflaed's tone was filled with disbelief.
"Yes, crying. It was late already when I woke up to some odd noises, and there he was, still at the table, his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking as if he were sobbing," Ealfwin's voice dropped to a hushed tone, and she glanced around cautiously, as though worried about being overheard. "It must have been something else, perhaps I was still half-asleep. He's a Dane, after all, and just yesterday I heard Uhtred praising his prowess in battle. Such men don't cry, do they?"
"No, they usually don't," Eanflaed agreed, though her response came with a hint of hesitation as she slowly shook her head, seemingly lost in thought.
"Yeah, and by the time I woke up this morning, he was already gone," Ealfwin concluded, her gaze still fixed on the two gleaming gold rings resting on the counter. "I really need a new dress; this one's seen better days."
Eanflaed picked up the rings and slipped them into a small pouch at her waist. "I'll get these exchanged for money. Last night was really a good one. We should now have enough to restock for the winter, and I'm sure we can manage a few new dresses as well."
—-----------------------------------------------
"It's a bit early, isn't it?" Eanflaed chuckled, glancing towards the door as it creaked open. It was still morning, edging towards noon, and she had only just finished cleaning the main room.
"I'm here to talk to Y/N, to offer congratulations on the engagement," slurred the young man leaning heavily against the door frame. Clearly drunk, he staggered towards Eanflaed and grabbed hold of the counter for support.
"What in the world?" Eanflaed blurted out, her stern gaze and furrowed brows fixed on the intruder. Her sharp retort was cut short as she recognized the young Dane from Uhtred’s company.
"Oh, I forgot to bring flowers. Isn't it customary to bring flowers for such occasions?" he mumbled, hiccupping, his clouded mismatched eyes boldly meeting Eanflaed's.
"What are you doing here?" Eanflaed demanded, eyeing him critically from head to toe.
Sihtric felt a sobering jolt from Eanflaed’s tone. Despite his drunken state, a wave of embarrassment washed over him. What was he doing here, indeed? He wasn't even sure how he had managed to find his way here in his current condition.
Compelled by the fear of encountering you again, he had stealthily slipped away under the cover of night, heading to the inn where Uhtred had secured rooms for them. There, he had joined the few remaining guests in their drinking. The ale had bolstered his courage, fueling his burning need for answers, and his legs had unwittingly led him here.
That brief moment the previous evening, when your eyes had met his, had unsettled him deeply. The surprise and pain etched on your face as you looked at him had caused him to nearly stumble and drop the girl he was holding. Why had you looked at him that way? Weren't you supposed to be happy and content, ready to start your new life without any place for his unrequited affection?
"I'm not sure," he mumbled, his momentary boldness fading into abashment.
"After what you did yesterday, you have the nerve to come here asking for her? You... you drunken fool," Eanflaed said, her voice rising in anger as she dropped the rag she was using to clean the counter. She advanced towards Sihtric, her smaller stature no match for her palpable fury. Sihtric instinctively began to retreat until he backed into a bench and clumsily sat down, trying to avoid tumbling over it, his warrior’s poise nowhere to be seen under Eanflaed’s fiery gaze.
"I don't know what tales you spun before leaving, but she waited for you all these long months. And just yesterday, she rejected a marriage proposal because of you. Do you grasp that, you fucking fool? She rejected Sigefried and ran off just to see you parade off with Ealfwin, ignoring her as if she were a complete stranger. And now you want to talk to her?" Eanflaed hurled her words at Sihtric with the force of thrown stones, growing louder as she jabbed her finger into Sihtric's chest.
"She did what?" Sihtric's eyes widened in shock, his mouth agape as he stared at the angry small woman before him. Her words had sobered him like a bucket of cold water on his head and in that moment Sihtric wished for nothing more than for the earth to open up and swallow him whole. "By the gods, what a fool I am," he groaned, burying his face in his hands.
"Leave now, or I'll call the town guards, and you can sober up in the sheriff's cell," Eanflaed threatened.
"Wait, please, let me explain," Sihtric pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation.
"I don’t want your excuses. Just leave! I won’t let you disrupt her life again. She might be reconciling with Sigefried as we speak..."
"I saw them! Yesterday, before coming here. I witnessed the proposal," Sihtric interjected, his voice rising in frustration. "I love her, I came back for her but I thought I stood no chance against him. I wanted to spare her the burden of remembering me. I never imagined she might still care."
"Oh, boy," Eanflaed sighed, her anger subsiding as she slumped onto the bench beside Sihtric. "That explains Ealfwin's odd night with you."
"What should I do?" There was such a despair in Sihtric’s voice that Eanflaed unwillingly felt sympathy with the boy. “Where is she? Please, I need to see her,” he pleaded.
"She's gone to speak with Sigefried," Eanflaed replied reluctantly, watching Sihtric's shoulders slump in defeat. After a moment, she added, "I’ll tell her you were here asking for her. But that’s all I’ll do. It’s up to her whether she wants to see you or not."
"Please, tell her I'll be at the White Goose inn, upstairs, last room on the left. I'll wait for her," Sihtric said, a hint of hope flickering in his voice.
—--------------------------------------------------
"I was afraid you wouldn't come," Sihtric said, taking a hesitant step back to let you into the room. A timid smile touched his lips. As you stepped inside, removing the hood of your cloak, your eyes took in the modest yet orderly room. Sihtric shut the door and faced you, his fingers nervously running through his hair while his gaze fell to his feet. "I... I..." he faltered.
"I honestly don't know why I'm here," you admitted, surprised at the calmness of your voice despite your heart pounding wildly in your chest. What were you doing here? You hadn't intended to come. When Eanflaed had conveyed to you Sihtric’s message, you knew instantly it wasn't a good idea, you knew it was only going to hurt and you had decided against it.
It's no use crying over spilled milk, you had told yourself as you headed towards the small street leading to your home. You rented a tiny attic room in an old, crooked house, owned by a landlady as aged and bent as the building itself. Evening was drawing near, and after last sleepless night, you longed for some rest before tomorrow.
Tomorrow. The word struck you like a bolt, a piercing realisation. Tomorrow was your wedding day. The cool autumn air filled your lungs, each season with its unique aroma, but autumn's – with its scents of rain, fallen leaves, and chimney smoke – was your favourite.
Faint, hazy memories of a warm fireplace in a spacious room and the comforting chatter of gathered people lingered at the edge of your consciousness, as you slowly wandered along the empty and quiet streets of the drowsy town. Your yearning for sleep had slowly vanished. Tonight, nobody awaited you at home, a fact that would change tomorrow. Everything would be different then. But for now, the night was yours – the last night of freedom, the last night you could choose to do whatever you wished. Slowly lifting your eyes, you found yourself staring in surprise at the sign of the White Goose inn, gently swaying in the breeze above.
You were unsure how you found yourself there, but there you were, almost dreamlike, extending your hand to push open the large wooden doors leading to the noisy, crowded main room. Pulling your cape further over your head, you moved unnoticed through the busy, half-drunk crowd, heading straight for the stairs.
“Last room on the left,” you murmured to yourself, repeating Eanflaed’s words. Your footsteps echoed in the empty hallway, resonating through you like a bizarre war drum. “What am I doing here?” you questioned yourself yet again, halting before the door. Nonetheless, your hand seemed to move on its own, lifted as if by an unseen force, and three loud knocks rang out.
You gasped in surprise as the door swung open almost instantly, cutting off the sound of your last knock. You were met by the deep, slightly startled gaze of two mismatched eyes.
Sihtric’s voice was as soft and melodic as you remembered. “At least that hasn’t changed,” you thought fleetingly, as you stepped inside, only for the sound of the door closing behind you, sharp like the snap of a trap, to jolt you back to the reality, the sheer absurdity of the situation you had just brought yourself into washing over you like a rainstorm.
“It was a mistake. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come,” you stammered, trying to edge past Sihtric in a quick movement back toward the door.
He hadn’t expected this. After spending hours and hours pacing his small room, he had finally lost all hope of you showing up. Muffled curses and groans kept rolling over his lips as the shadows lengthened with the setting sun, his arms alternating between clasping his head and hanging listlessly at his sides, his fists clenching and unclenching, fingers raking through his hair or covering his face in frustration. The knock had taken him by surprise, standing by the door, rhythmically bumping his head against the wall, his elbows propped against it, fingers interlocked behind his head.
He had yanked the door open, fueled by frustration, only to be completely caught off guard by the sight of you standing there, your hand still raised from the last knock. Fighting the impulse to pinch himself, to verify that he wasn't dreaming, Sihtric watched you hesitantly stepping into the room. His gaze fell to the floor, while his mind scrambled for something coherent to say. Throughout the long hours of waiting, he had rehearsed this moment in his mind countless times, imagining all the things he wanted to say, just to find his mind empty as a blank sheet of parchment.
His gaze still fixed on his feet, Sihtric almost didn't notice your sudden dash for the door. You were close to escaping, your hand nearly grasping the handle, when he realised your intent to flee and instinctively reached out, catching your arm and turning you around. You attempted to pull away, struggling to free yourself from his grip, but in the rush, Sihtric made another step toward you, and suddenly, you found yourself pressed against the door, his towering figure looming over you.
“Please, don’t go,” Sihtric’s voice was deep and hoarse, a noticeable tremor running through it. His eyes finally met yours as he placed his hands on your shoulders, immediately feeling you tense up, panic and fear evident in your wide-open eyes. It was a look he recognized all too well, one he had seen too often, but never expected to be directed at him. Yet, there you were, staring back with a deepening darkness in your eyes and quickening breath.
"I’m sorry," he quickly stepped back, letting go of you and raising his hands as if in surrender. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m so sorry. I…I’m getting this all wrong, aren't I? Please, just don't go yet. Give me a moment," the pleading tone in his voice washed over you, but amidst your rising anxiety, you barely absorbed his words.
Averting your gaze and driven by instinctive fear, you reached behind your back, your hand frantically searching for the life-saving door handle. Your fingers finally found it, gripping it tightly, poised to push it down and open your path to escape as you looked back up at Sihtric and froze, surprised by the lost, sorrowful expression on his face, his large, expressive eyes shining with warm tenderness. There he was, the same insecure, alarmed boy, who had so trustfully followed you, squeezing your hand in his sweaty palm, his anxiety barely concealed.
"I won't hold you back. If you want to leave, you can," he stated, stepping further back, giving you ample space, as if to emphasise the truth in his words. His gaze remained intently on you, earnest and unwavering. "You are safe with me. I'll never hurt you, you know that? Never."
Your expression softened, and the fear in you slowly ebbed away. You let your arms fall to your sides, though your chest continued to rise and fall quickly as you took deep breaths, trying to calm your racing heart. Time seemed to stretch out, the two of you locked in a silent gaze, the air around you thick with unspoken words and anticipation.
"What do you want from me?" you found the courage to break the silence.
"I missed you," came Sihtric’s immediate response. "Every single day since I left, you’ve been on my mind. I couldn't escape the thought of you."
"Then why…" you began, but Sihtric quickly cut you off.
"I saw you with Sigefried," he blurted out, his voice unsteady. "I heard his proposal, and then I saw him kiss you…" His voice faltered and broke, pausing for a moment to gather himself. "I... I had brought you flowers, and there he was, offering you a home, a future. I... I didn’t know what to do... I…" He stumbled over his words, his voice trailing off, as he struggled to continue.
"You brought me flowers?" you asked, a quiver in your voice, recalling your surprise this morning when you had seen the delicate blooms crushed in the dirt outside the alehouse. A sudden moisture gathered in the corners of your eyes, and it took all your willpower to hold back the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.
"Is what Eanflaed said true?" Sihtric's gaze dropped to the floor, and even in the dimming light of the setting sun, you could see his cheeks redden. "She said you waited for me, that you turned him down because of me. Is that true?" His voice was barely above a whisper.
Words seemed to lodge in your throat, making it difficult to speak. "Yes, I did," you finally managed, your voice emerging faintly. "But it doesn’t matter now. I accepted Sigefried’s proposal this morning. We’re getting married tomorrow after the morning sermon."
"What? Why?" Sihtric exclaimed, lifting his head, a look of pain crossing his face.
You gazed at him, a sad smile tugging at your lips, still leaning against the door. You wondered if he really expected an answer. He looked striking in the fading sunlight, the sharp contours of his face thrown into relief by the encroaching shadows, his beautiful, captivating eyes locking with yours, making it impossible to look away. A silent curse escaped your lips, your hands slowly balling into fists as you fought to regulate your increasingly shallow breathing. Your cheeks warmed under Sihtric’s intense gaze, a familiar heat spreading from your stomach through your veins, tingling every cell in your body, clouding your thoughts.
There was a part of you that knew there was nothing more to be said, it was time to leave, a distant voice in your consciousness urged you to go. Instead you straightened up, stepping away from the door, and hesitantly moved towards Sihtric. With each step, the distance between you lessened until you were standing right in front of him. Your hand trembled as you reached up, gently cradling his cheek, your thumb lightly tracing his lower lip.
"Thank you for the flowers," you whispered softly.
"But, I didn’t..." Sihtric began in a hushed tone.
"You are the first one," you gently cut him off, a tender yet sad smile on your lips, "The only one who ever thought to bring me flowers."
Closing his eyes, Sihtric leaned into your touch, his hand coming up to cover yours, pressing it more firmly against his cheek, a deep sigh escaping him. In that moment, he seemed to straddle the line between boyhood and manhood, like a young soul yearning for love and affection, yet hesitant to fully express it for fear of exposing his innate kindness as a vulnerability.
"I… I shouldn’t be here..." you stammered, your resolve wavering.
"Stay… please, stay with me," Sihtric's plea was soft, his other hand gently cupping your cheek, drawing you closer. He leaned in slowly, deliberately, giving you the chance to pull away if you wished.
You wanted to turn away, to step back and withdraw. It wasn't Sihtric's hold that restrained you – his touch was so featherlight and delicate that you could have easily slipped away at any moment. It was your own body that betrayed you, refusing to comply. With your eyes closed, you felt Sihtric’s lips tentatively meet yours, grazing them in an almost imperceptible touch, his breath warm and trembling against your skin.
“I can’t,” you murmured softly against his lips, but the involuntary whimper that followed told a different story. Despite your words, your hands seemed to act of their own accord, as they found their way to Sihtric’s neck, then upwards, weaving into his hair. The fervour with which you responded to his kiss, parting your lips in an eager, almost desperate need to taste him, betrayed the falsehood in your words.
Emboldened by your response, Sihtric deepened the kiss. His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you firmly against his chest. And this time he knew exactly what he was doing, his movements were assured, his lips moving over yours with purpose. His tongue slipped inside your mouth, teasing and exploring, savouring the moment.
Your senses reeled. The sensation of Sihtric’s lips pressed against yours, his tongue entwining with yours, the mingling of your breaths, ignited a fire within you that you could no longer contain or deny. You kissed him back passionately, desperately, matching the intensity of his own need.
Sihtric let out a soft moan as you gently bit his lower lip, stirring sweet memories of your first time together. His hands cradled your face, drawing you closer to his eager yet tender lips. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow and quick, and you felt utterly swamped by the intoxicating depth of his kiss, wishing this moment would last forever, that his lips would never part from yours, his hands never release you.
Your fingers began to fumble with the laces of his armour, impatient and desirous they tugged at the fastenings and Sihtric helped you to free him from the layers of the thick leather that kept your heated bodies apart.
"May I?" he asked, his hands hovering over the laces of your dress. You smiled, recalling how you had once asked him the same question.
"Yes, please," you responded, your voice quivering with anticipation. You held your breath as Sihtric's rough fingers began to undo your simple dress, first brushing it off your shoulders, then tracing kisses down your neck to your collarbone. With a firm tug, the dress fell to your feet, eliciting a sharp exhale from Sihtric that made you blush.
Sihtric's palms cupped your face again, and he pressed his forehead against yours. "Do you want me?" he whispered, his voice husky and slightly hoarse, his breath unsteady.
"Yyyes, I do," you whispered back. That was the undeniable truth, the sole clear thought in your mind. You wanted him, needed him, like a budding flower needs the rain. Yes, tomorrow everything would change, everything would be different. Tomorrow you would be married, embarking on a new life, but tonight, you were here and you were his and only his.
The soft moan that escaped Sihtric as he claimed your lips again in a gentle yet urgent kiss sent a flutter through you. Sihtric continued to cover your face with soft kisses, starting from your forehead, then moving to your cheeks, and finally trailing down to your jawline. His large hands settled on your hips, pressing you firmly against his pelvis as his hips gently rocked against yours, letting you feel his fully hard cock. “Do you want all of me?” he asked again.
Throughout your life, you had encountered many men, but none had ever made you feel as desired, cherished, and loved as Sihtric did at this moment. And never had you yearned for someone as intensely as you yearned for him now. It wasn't just lust or affection for this young man clouding your thoughts; it was something deeper, a profound and new sensation unfurling within you, so intense it was almost frightening.
“Please, say it. I need to hear it,” he urged, his voice strained between heavy breaths.
“I do, I want you, all of you, every part of you,” you moaned hungrily, your by now completely soaked pussy throbbing for him as your fingers went down to the laces of his breeches, unfastening them quickly, slipping inside and wrapping around his hard length, giving it a needy stroke.
Sihtric groaned, his hands quickly gathering your undergarments, pushing them up your hips and smoothly lifting them over your head in one fluid motion. His arms immediately wrapped around your shoulders again, pulling you close to his bare chest. The warmth of his body enveloped you, seeping into your skin as his mouth traced a path from your jaw down to your neck, leaving a trail of wet, sloppy kisses and gently nipping at your skin. A loud whine escaped you, your skin tingling under the heat of his touch.
Sihtric placed his hands under your thighs, lifting you up effortlessly as you wrapped your legs around his waist. You pressed against his broad chest, your arms encircling his neck, marvelling at his strength. He carried you easily, without any sign of strain, and gently laid you down on his bed.
You quickly scrambled up to your knees and reached for his waist, pulling down his breeches and freeing his fully hard cock. You licked your lips as you wrapped your hand around it, giving it a slow stroke and moving your head closer to his dripping tip. Sihtric’s head snapped back as he groaned loudly at your touch, but his hand firmly took hold of your chin, stopping you.
“This time it’s my turn,” he said firmly, his eyes looking down at you dark with lust. “Let me make you feel good,” he murmured, gently pushing you back on the bed, moving his body over you and settling between your legs as he started placing soft kisses down your neck.
He paused at your breasts, suckling slightly at your hard nipples, before going further down, each sloppy open mouthed kiss making you writhe beneath him. Muffled whines rolled over your lips as he continued kissing his way down to your belly, until he reached your pulsing core and the first lap of his tongue over your folds made you arch your back and dig your nails into the mattress, a heavy moan escaping you.
“Oh God, it feels so good,” you whined, and Sihtric let out a satisfied groan, his hot breath tickling you and making the pleasure even more intense. His hands were on your hips, keeping you firmly in place, as he sucked hard at your clit and circled it with his tongue. You felt your climax building up quickly, each lap of his tongue bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm. You whined and whimpered, rocking your hips against him, mewling his name and begging him not to stop and the moment he pushed his tongue inside you, you felt a hot wave of pure bliss washing over you. Everything around you faded away, consumed by the inferno of ecstasy running through your veins and burning everything in its path, erasing all your doubts and possible regrets.
Sihtric let you savour your high, his tongue gently lapping over your clit, waiting until your body stopped shaking. "Was I good?" he asked, as he moved back on top of you, a slightly sheepish look on his face paired with a mischievous, boyish glint in his eyes, clearly seeking praise and affirmation.
"Holy shit, you were sinfully good," you exclaimed, laughter bubbling up as you were taken aback by the profanity of your own words. You pulled him into your embrace, your legs wrapping around his waist. In that moment, nothing else mattered. All that was important was the soft press of Sihtric’s lips against yours, the comforting weight of his body pinning you to the mattress, and the delightful sensation of his breath tickling your skin.
“I want you, I want to be inside you, to feel you around me,” Sihtric murmured in your ear, breathing heavily, his hard, leaking cock pressing against your core. “Will you have me?”
“Yes, please! I want you. Oh my God, I need you… I need to feel you again,” you moaned, shamelessly rolling your hips up against him. That was all he needed to hear, and in the next instant he was pushing inside you. His hands firmly grasped your wrists, securing your arms above your head, while he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply as if savouring every scent like a dying man cherishing his final breath.
He pushed into you completely until the very end of his shaft, freezing for a moment. “Gods, how good you feel!” Sihtric groaned against your skin, his lips sliding over your neck, nibbling at your sensitive skin. You bucked your hips impatiently, grinding against him, showing him how much you wanted him, how much you needed him and he instantly got you, starting to move, slowly in the beginning, but fastening his pace with each thrust until he was fucking you relentlessly into the mattress, wild growls rolling over his lips.
You met his thrusts with equal eagerness and passion, moving your hips against him, matching his pace. You felt impossibly light, as if soaring, your body seemingly weightless, free from all worries and sorrows. In that moment, there was no past, no future, just the present, blissfully unaware of your surroundings, even the image of the impending wedding had left you as you surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure surging within you, consuming all your senses.
Your eyes met Sihtric's, and you revelled in the way he gazed at you with such tender fondness, mixed with an unspoken, elusive depth, the softness in his eyes, a trait you never expected to find in a warrior, making your breath hitching in your throat.
You moaned his name, feeling your orgasm approaching, and dug your nails in his back. “Let go, my love,” Sihtric groaned, pounding into you, his eyes never leaving yours. “Let yourself fly. I want you to cum for me. I want to see you falling apart,” he murmured, reaching between your bodies and pushing his fingers at your clit, rubbing it gently.
You gasped loudly at the sudden feeling of exhilaration washing over you and then you were falling or maybe flying, you couldn’t tell, as your back arched against the mattress in the most intense orgasm you had ever had. Your walls clenched around Sihtric’s cock and, watching your face lighten up in pure happiness, he followed you spilling deep inside you with a loud groan.
“You are so beautiful,” Sihtric moaned, crashing against you, and you wrapped your arms around him with a blissful smile gracing your lips.
“Don’t move,” you purred in his ear. “I want to feel you a little bit longer.”
"As long as you want. I don’t want to let go of you, anyway," Sihtric replied with a deep sigh. "I want you to stay here with me. Will you?" The pleading tone of his voice was tinged with uncertainty.
"I will. I'll stay for the night," you whispered, cradling Sihtric’s face in your hands, gazing deeply into his captivating eyes, and sealing your promise with a tender, soft kiss. You held back a sigh that threatened to break free, grateful that the fallen darkness helped you to conceal the tears that shimmered in your eyes from Sihtric’s view.
Sihtric had so much he wanted to tell you. His wish wasn't merely for you to stay the night; he wanted you to stay with him forever. He longed to awaken each morning to your face, to the feeling of your warmth beside him. He told himself there would be time for those words tomorrow, and every day that followed. For now, you were here, with him, and his happiness was too profound for words, his contentment too deep to break the peaceful silence. Gently, he wrapped the blanket around you, just like that first time, and drew you into his embrace. Your back pressed snugly against his chest, your hair spread over the pillow, he inhaled your exhilarating scent and let the comforting fatigue seep into his bones, lulling him into a restful sleep.
—-------------------------------------
Sihtric awoke to a strange sense of emptiness and a chill in the air. Instinctively, he reached out, expecting to find the warmth of your body, but his hand met only the cold, thin air. His eyes fluttered open to a room bathed in the golden hues of sun long risen above the horizon. Your scent lingered, yet you were nowhere to be seen.
Leaping out of bed, Sihtric looked around in confusion.
"Damn it, no... it can’t be. Damn it!" he muttered as he paced the room. "Why? Why is she doing this to me?" he groaned, his hands balling into fists. A wave of despair and a sense of profound failure overwhelmed him. What had he done wrong? Did last night mean nothing to you?
Glancing quickly out the window, Sihtric saw the small town coming to life in the new day's light, and his ears picked up the distant sound of church bells ringing. A painful realisation struck him, and he raked his hands through his hair, cursing softly.
"Fuck, no…" Sihtric exclaimed, scrambling to gather his clothes strewn about the room. Dressing himself hastily, he then stormed out of the room and pounded on the door down the corridor with both fists.
"What's going on? Sihtric, have you lost your mind?" Uhtred's sleepy face appeared in the doorway.
"Lord, I need your permission. I need your permission to marry," Sihtric nearly shouted, and Uhtred's annoyed expression shifted to one of complete amusement.
"You want to marry? Now? Are you drunk?"
"Yes, lord. No, lord. Now, or it will be too late," Sihtric implored, desperation in his voice. "I've been too late twice already. I can’t miss another chance."
"Wait, slow down! Explain what's happening," Uhtred said, fully opening the door and gesturing for Sihtric to come in.
"Lord…" Sihtric began to protest, but a stern look from Uhtred halted him. With a heavy sigh, Sihtric stepped inside.
—------------------------------------------------
"Should anyone here know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace," the priest intoned, and you held your breath in anxious anticipation.
Stealing a glance beneath your lashes, you looked hesitantly at Sigefried beside you. His gaze was locked on the priest, not on you, his fingers tapping against his palm with an air of impatience, as if eager for the ceremony to conclude.
A wave of nausea began to stir in your stomach. Was this the right decision? Was there even such a thing as a right decision? Your feelings for Sihtric were undeniable – profound and inexplicable, intense beyond words. Yet here you were, at the altar.
The hardest part had been slipping away from Sihtric's warm embrace. You had shifted carefully to free yourself from his hold, withdrawing your breath as it seemed you had awakened him. He had moved closer momentarily, his arm tightening around you. You waited, but his steady and rhythmic breathing soon told you he was still asleep.
Finally out of bed, the cool air bit against your naked skin. You quickly picked up your clothes, and dressed. You were already at the door, your hand reaching out for the handle, as you stopped and turned, casting one last look at Sihtric. He appeared so peaceful, content, and serene in the ethereal light of the dawn's first rays, looking so young and innocent, like a prince from a fairy tale. But as much as you wished for it, this fairy tale couldn’t have a happy ending.
You couldn’t stay. Despite the ache in your heart, it was impossible. He was from a different world, he was a stranger, a passer by in your life. The events of the past days had made that painfully evident.
Today he was here with you, but tomorrow he would leave again, bound to follow his lord wherever fate led. What would remain for you? Only waiting. An endless, uncertain wait, shrouded in doubt and suspense, without even knowing its purpose. His absence turning into eternity you would never know whether it was because his gods had called him from this world or because he had chosen to marry and settle down with someone else. And nobody would ever tell you, for you were not a part of his world.
You struggled to contain the tears welling up, but realising there was no one around to witness them, you allowed them to flow freely as you gently closed the door behind you. As much as it tore at your heart, you were grateful to fate for having your paths crossed with this sweet, passionate, and kindhearted young warrior. He had awakened emotions within you that you were certain would stay with you for the rest of your life, giving you warmth and strength to face what you must do.
"Please face each other and join hands," the priest's voice pulled you back from your thoughts, and you turned towards your soon-to-be husband, extending your trembling hands. A shy smile touched your lips, but it failed to reach your eyes, where tears shimmered.
The priest drew breath, and opened his mouth to speak as a loud voice suddenly cut through the air "I object!" echoed through the vast hall and a figure blocked the light streaming through the open doors of the church. You flinched, as if stung, immediately recognizing the voice. Panic welled up inside you as you turned, already knowing who you would see, the voice having been unmistakably familiar.
Why was he doing this? Was it an act of revenge for wounded pride? Was he about to reveal that you had spent the night with him, just to shame you? Could he really be that heartless? Questions fluttered through your mind like alarmed birds as you saw three men, three warriors, stride down the church aisle, stopping just before you.
The priest shifted nervously, his robe rustling in the sudden, uneasy silence. No one spoke. You didn’t dare to lift your gaze, acutely feeling the stares of Sigefried and the few witnesses he had brought, as if they were piercing through you.
"I object," Sihtric repeated, this time more quietly, a strange tremor in his voice.
"What matter do you wish to raise, young man?" the priest inquired, casting nervous glances at the three men, his eyes widening with apprehension upon noticing Thor's hammer around the necks of two of them.
"You can't marry him," Sihtric said, now addressing you directly. His voice was soft, almost imploring, devoid of any malice or anger. Sigefried cleared his throat, seemingly about to interject. He moved a step towards Sihtric, but the firm stares from Uhtred and Finan caused him to reconsider, and he stepped back silently.
"Why?" your question emerged as a faint whisper under your breath as you still didn’t dare to raise your eyes.
"Because I love you," Sihtric's answer struck you like a bolt from the blue.
"You love me?" you echoed, the concept feeling foreign and almost unreal. Love was a notion that had seemed absent from your life. Even recognising the feelings you had for Sihtric you had never dared to call them love. Could it truly have a place now? You lifted your eyes, meeting Sihtric’s earnest gaze.
"I love you and I know that you love me too, even if you try to hide it. Can you deny it?," Sihtric’s voice resonated with unwavering certainty, free of any doubt or hesitation, as he knelt before you, extending his arm towards you. "I may not have much to offer, but I offer you my hand, my heart, and the promise that I will love you until my last breath. Will you marry me?"
You struggled to speak, but a lump in your throat rendered you silent. The church was steeped in a suffocating silence, and you stared down at Sihtric in disbelief. His gaze was steady, his hand outstretched and waiting.
Inside, Sihtric’s heart pounded at an alarming rate. He summoned all his willpower to appear calm and composed, concealing the storm of emotions within, striving to keep his outstretched hand from trembling. As the silence stretched, doubts began to cloud his mind. Had he been mistaken all along? Had he seen only what he longed to see, even if it wasn't true? Was he merely deceived by his own foolish heart, seeking love and acceptance in a place where none existed? His eyes darkened with shades of doubt and disillusion.
“Yes, I will,” your words emerged as a faint whisper, a light breeze carrying the soft clang of your shaking voice, yet he heard them. Those three words seemed to breathe life back into Sihtric, his eyes brightening with hope and happiness.
“Yes, yes! Oh my God, Sihtric, I love you! I will! I will marry you!” You found your voice again, repeating the words, thrilled by their sound. You placed your trembling hand in Sihtric’s, seeking stability as the world seemed to spin around you. In seconds, Sihtric was on his feet, closing the gap between you, wrapping you in his embrace, showering your face with kisses.
“I knew it, I knew you loved me. I saw it in your beautiful eyes. I could feel it, ” he murmured into your ear.
“Hey, priest, snap out of it. We’ve got a wedding to conduct,” Uhtred’s distant voice seemed to come from another realm. You looked up at Sihtric questioningly, only to be met with his reassuring smile.
“I will marry you here before your God, and when we return to Cochem, I’ll marry you again before my gods. Nothing in this world or the next will ever tear us apart.”
#sihtric#sihtric kjartansson#sihtric x reader#sihtric x you#sihtric fic#the last kingdom#tlk#sihtric smut#the last kingdom fanfic
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Your post about Gortash being embarrassing and cringe and not realizing it is SO real to me. I think he is perfectly suave and charming to everyone except when it comes to someone he ACTUALLY likes, at which point his usual mask is useless because he has no idea how to cover up Real Feelings. The way he 🥺 and grins and blabbers nonstop to Durge at the coronation reunion is exhibit A for this of course. Personally I think he had no idea what was happening on his face during that, it just earnestly happened, and he probably THOUGHT he was being chill but he so wasnt. He is a 40 or 50 year old teenager with a crush and he’s clueless that it gets him acting like an idiot. Important Gortash characterisation (to me!)
It just makes sense to me given his history and overall emotional immaturity that he does not know how to express casual affection for something, let alone someONE. (And yeah the whole thing where he and Durge are both really smart people capable of near-flawless teamwork but they also genuinely make each other kind of stupid when they’re around each other. It tracks.)
He wooed Jannath with unimpeachable charm because he did not actually care about or love her (im really sorry Jannath 🫣) so he was just being a fake bastard, and thats easy. But real affection? Real love? He has no framework for that. Catch the Chosen of Bane in the most unbecoming act of ducking his head to hide his stupid smile after taking Durge’s hand in his. Embarrassing!
ANON, your mind.
It's powerful.
I am gnawing on the wonderful idea, because I love the concept of, Gortash is the perfect gentleman, he's great at copying others, at pretending to be a patriar, and exuding this carefully constructed charm.
He was raised by DEVILS. He was in a GANG.
He has Raphael's bullshit charm, and all these rough edges.
But he smooths them out, when he's trying to seduce rich women or arms dealer.
But that act doesn't work on the Dark Urge, of course, and he would never even try that sort of thing with them anyway.
Because anyone who seduces people for a living knows, not everyone reacts to the same tricks.
BUT.
Maybe he starts out trying to seduce them, by being cold and practical and intelligent...but then, surprise surprise.
it ends up not being an act. he finds the dark urge is warmer and more receptive than he thought they'd be, after decades of being alone.
and they have things in COMMON.
And he IS honest with them, as his partner.
And then, when he's NOT trying to seduce then....he accidentally seduces them...by being such a fucking nerd.
And THEN.
as you said.
He is SO dorky and cringe...because he's being honest, for one thing, AND he doesn't know how to act, when he genuinely likes someone, and isn't just trying to seduce them.
And he's THRILLED that that's what gets the Dark Urge hot under the collar.
The biggest freak in all of Baldur's Gate, meets the second biggest one, and they don't know how to act "right," but their version of right ends up being healthier than anything else they might have ever been capable of.
UGH, anon.
Do not SEND ME DOWN THIS RABBITHOLE.
You couldn't pry soft dorky lovestruck idiot Durgetash from my dead claws.
I think they committed horrible atrocities together.
I also think they were so sweet on each other, it would make Bhaal gag.
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The funny thing about enlightenment is that when it is authentic, there is no one to claim it. Enlightenment is very ordinary; it is nothing special. It plants you right in the center of a wonderful humility and innocence.
If you feel special in any way, then enlightenment has not occurred. I meet a lot of people who think they are enlightened and awake simply because they have had a very moving spiritual experience.
This isn't a journey about becoming something. This is about unbecoming who we are not, about undeceiving ourselves.
In the end, it's ironic.
We don't end up anywhere other than where we have always been and we realize that the heaven everyone is seeking is where we have always been.
~ Adyashanti
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On Voluntary Nonhumanity 2: Electric Bogaloo.
My previous posts about voluntary nonhumaness made a discussion spring up around 'Linking, and sadly due to my own mistakes to getting my point across clearly, everyone thought it was about 'Linking, despite not mentioning it once.
So, here's what I'm gonna say:
Nonhuman 'Linking = Voluntary Nonhumans.
Voluntary Nonhumans ≠ 'Linking.
'Linking is a practice and it's whole new thing, it's not just Therian, Otherkin or Fictionkin "but voluntary" or "lite". Again, as a otherlinker, this can be a relation you consciously maintain or something you actively towards to maintain and shape around to what fits your need. Here's a good post talking more about this.
Voluntary nonumanness isn't always 'Linking. It can be something like Voidpunk and Altervexo.
I am that scary, impossible voluntary therianthrope, I explained why this is in my reblog of the post, but I will reiterate:
I don't have a wolf linktype, this is no case of "I feel less valid if I don't label myself as a Therian :(". If I wanted it to be a linktype, it would've been a linktype.
I became a wolf therian, I can't drop it, I can't unbecome a wolf as you can a linktype (which, does NOT make it any less valid). This is who I am, deep, deep inside who I am now.
I cannot explain it in any better way than being "bitten voluntarily by a werewolf to become one". I didn't have to work towards it, more than my own inner conflict "is it right or wrong that I did this?".
And guess what? This isn't exclusive to nonhumaness. You can become Fictionkin too. You can become whoever the hell you want, however you want, because guess what? Not everyone is psychological because of trauma. Not everyone is born with a nonhuman or fictional soul. Not everyone has parallel lives. Or was born bound to another universe. Not everyone is born nonhuman.
Some are magic, some are headspace-made, some are other spiritual and metaphysical means, some don't know if it's voluntary or involuntary, some are just deciding to be one through a cathartic voluntary experience.
#cw discussion#alterhuman#therian#otherkin#fictionkin#community#therianthropy#therian community#otherkin community#fictionkin community#alterhuman community#kitty cat rambles#people be open minded challenge difficulty: impossible.#info
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Unbecoming (Sanji x Ex!Reader)
Angst and hurt and no comfort lol so I hope you prepared yourself lol. I don't usually write engst but I love drama and tension and all that good shit. SOOO ENJOY!
Warnings: Swearing but thats it
Nami can see the look of rage and jealousy written over your face. This wasn't the first time Sanji had done something like this. Blatantly flirted with other women as if you weren't right there.
Part of you dismissed it, knowing that's just how he was as a person. Flirty and charming. But damn it if it didn't piss you off. On this particular night, he had gone too far.
"You know you guys broke up y/n. Let it go."She hums, trying to keep you from going ballistic. It wasn't working.
You sip your drink with narrowed eyes, the bottle being clenched tighter in your hand now. In front of you was Sanji, standing at the bar, talking to some tramp who swooned every time he gave a smile that you deemed to be just for you. He leans down by her ear, whispering something that makes her physically shiver. It makes you sick. Because you know that once upon a time you were that 'tramp' falling for that same smile.
"Oh okay." You hum, standing from your spot and walking to the pair.
Sanji looks up, smile fading at your displeased expression. He's quick to clear his throat as the girl he was previously romancing looks behind her, your now emptied bottle held high over your head. Before it could even make contact with the flinching woman, Sanji grabs your wrist and lowers it, shaking his head no. Profanities of all kinds slip from your lips as the girl before you stands as if she wants to fight. Not like she'd win, you'd kick her ass easily.
"So you don't wanna introduce me to your new friend?" You scoff, seeing him roll his eyes.
The funny thing about this whole situation was that...
You and Sanji weren't together anymore for this exact same reason. He was too much of a goddamned flirt. And you were far too possessive, jealous...and violent when provoked. He's dragging you away now, your body slung over his shoulder as he scowls at Nami for not holding you back. She can see you kicking your legs and pounding your fists into his back. But, Nami simply shrugs with a "This isn't my fight."
It's not long before you're set down, Sanji rolling his eyes at your behavior.
"What's your problem?' he scoffs, throwing his hands up as if he did nothing wrong. The argument was already rising off your tongue and past your lips.
That's another reason why your two broke it off. You argued way too much. Nothing was agreeable and everything was a problem. It was toxic and you both knew it... However, one of you was more eager to leave than the other.
"I don't have a fucking prob-"
"But you do. What don't you understand Y/n? We are not together anymore!" He cuts you off shaking his head in disbelief.
It's true but it still hurts your feelings. You drop your fists, swallowing back the sob that rises in your throat, and blink away the stinging in your eyes. You know you were fucked up but you couldn't help it. Love like that was all you'd ever known.
You were supposed to be possessive and jealous and bitchy and...he was supposed to make you soft and feel soft...This was his fault...no it wasn't, but again this was just like you to try and find someone else to blame.
"I-I know." You rasp, looking away from him. There's no love there anymore. Just irritation and mild pity.
"It's unbecoming of you to act like this. You know that already though." He states, leaving you outside the bar with your thoughts.
Your prince was gone.
#x reader#one piece#one piece live action#one piece x reader#opla#sanji opla#opla sanji x reader#vinsmoke sanji x reader#sanji x reader#sanji live action#vinsmoke sanji#reader is crazy
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Atsushi and Akutagawa Talking For the First Time Since the Vampirism Incident After Running Into Each Other at a 24-Hour Izakaya (Platonic or Pre-Slash SSKK)
[Akutagawa flicks a zoned-out Atsushi in the nose after their coffee arrives]
Atsushi: "Ah! What was that for!?!"
Akutagawa: "Wherever your mind was heading was unbecoming of you, weretiger. I invited you to sit with me so we could conveniently debrief each other about our last joint mission, not so I could watch you stare out into nothingness."
Atsushi: "You could've just said something."
Akutagawa: "You're right."
Atsushi: "… But you flicked me in the nose instead?"
[Akutagawa gives a deadpan look to Atsushi; Atsushi sighs and sips his coffee]
Atsushi: "Fine. But I don't know why you want to. I'm sure you've already read your organization's reports on it… and probably the Agency's, too."
Akutagawa: "Of course I did, but there was something that wasn't in any of the reports that I wanted to ask about. Specifically, I want to know why you spent valuable energy trying to reach me while I was a vampire rather than engage me in combat."
Atsushi: "You remember that?"
Akutagawa: "I remember only that. I wasn't really conscious for the rest. But I do know what happened immediately after that. So why did you leave yourself vulnerable like that instead of fighting? Even you should've been able to put up a stronger defense than you did."
[Atsushi runs a hand through his hair in irritation]
Atsushi: "God, you're such an idiot."
Akutagawa: "What was that, weretiger!?!"
Atsushi: "I said you're an idiot. Are you really asking me why I tried to save you!?!"
Akutagawa: "No, I'm asking why you stupidly risked everything to do it!"
Atsushi: "How did I risk 'everything'!?!"
Akutagawa: "I tore your limbs off!"
[Atsushi stares at Akutagawa as though staring at a puzzle that's just starting to make sense]
Atsushi: "Akutagawa, is this really about the mission or is this just about what happened to me?"
Akutagawa: "I don't know what you mean."
Atsushi: "You died for me. I think you do know."
[Atsushi exhales; Akutagawa stares in silence]
Atsushi: "I tried to save you because I think you're worth saving, alright? After everything that's happened between us — us talking about our pasts, you telling Kyouka you were happy for her, the deal, fighting people together — I can't just pretend like you mean nothing to me. You're my partner, Akutagawa. When Dazai threw us together, I was resistant to being a team because of the bad blood between us and because I didn't really know you or understand you. But I do know you now and you've grown a lot. I'm ready to take your advice and move on from the past and embrace being a team now, if you're willing."
[Akutagawa stares at Atsushi, completely stunned; he drops his gaze to the table as he silently grabs his coffee to give himself time to process everything; he sips before looking back up at Atsushi with a soft smirk]
Akutagawa: "Sappiness isn't going to get you out of our duel, weretiger, but nice try."
Atsushi: "Are you-!?! You're seriously gonna make fun of me after all that!?!"
Akutagawa: "Yes. Making fun of you is part of my job. You're my partner, after all."
[Atsushi gives Akutagawa a surprised look before giving a smile of his own]
Atsushi: "I guess I'll just have to get used to it, then. Lucky me."
[Atsushi's expression turns more serious]
Atsushi: "I have some questions of my own, but I'd rather ask them later. I want to just enjoy tonight. It's the first time in while I've gotten to just relax. I do have one question that I want to ask now, though, if you don't mind."
Akutagawa: "You may ask."
Atsushi: "Your lungs are okay now, right?"
Akutagawa: "How did you know?"
Atsushi: "You haven't coughed once the entire time you've been here."
Akutagawa: "I don't know how, but yes, my brief time as a vampire seems to have healed them. It's… strange — living on borrowed time, actually dying, then coming back with time to spare. I'm not really sure what to do with myself sometimes. Before, I just threw myself into my work and rarely stopped because I felt like I couldn't."
Atsushi: "We'll figure it out."
Akutagawa: "'We'?"
Atsushi: "Yeah. I mean, if you want. We're already a team, but… we could be friends too. You don't have to be alone just because you're off the clock."
Akutagawa: "I'm not alone. I have my sister."
Atsushi: "You know what I meant."
Akutagawa: "Very well. Since your inexhaustible supplies of sentimentality and stubbornness have backed me into a corner, I accept your offer of friendship."
Atsushi: "… Did you just blame you having a friend on me?"
Akutagawa: "We can just call it 'giving you credit' if that makes you feel better."
[Atsushi rolls his eyes fondly]
Atsushi: "How generous you are, Akutagawa."
Akutagawa: "You're welcome, Atsushi."
#shin soukoku#sskk#bsd sskk#bungou stray dogs atsushi#bungou gay dogs#bungo gay dogs#bungou stray dogs akutagawa#bsd atsushi#bsd akutagawa#bungo stray dogs atsushi#bungo stray dogs akutagawa#akutagawa x atsushi#atsushi x akutagawa#akutagawa and atsushi#atsushi and akutagawa#bsd fanfic#sskk fanfic
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HELLO NAMIS GIRLFRIEND 🫡🫡💥💥💥💥💥 would love to request some general mihawk x reader hcs !!!!!!! gn or masc reader if you please ^_^ love him and his bigass unblinking eyes . thanks in advance !!!! 🧡🧡🧡🧡
hi hello anon!! this was rlly fun to work with, i think mihawk and a silly little creature is truly the dynamic ever.
summary: meet-cute turned meet-ugly on kuraigana island. collective hc thing about awkward!mihawk and a gn!reader who doesn’t know when to shut up to save their life.
word count: 580 words // 0.5k
cw: none!
with roronoa zoro returned to his captain, and perona’s soul floating far from her body as usual — dracule mihawk is perhaps a little lonely. while it's something he wouldn't admit, or truly let bother him in any way. but it is strange, the lack of noise and clatter around the castle. at first, he takes the opportunity to relax. read more books, lounge around, train every once and a while.
the routine is boring. he feels as though he may crawl right out of his skin. however, one morning, he discovers a surprise. on the way back to his makeshift training grounds, after feeding the many monkeys with swords, obviously — he finds an intruder.
and, well, maybe that isn't exactly the right word. you're young, have an androgynous air about yourself, and are currently hanging from one of the bear traps perona set up on a whim. he has to stifle a laugh, albeit small, since he'd warned her that roronoa would most likely fall victim.
but it isn't his ward, back from travelling already. he cuts you down from the tree, and offers a gloved hand. you get to your feet with a grin, looking him up and down.
"ha! i didn't actually think i'd find you here," you laugh, bending forward a little to catch your breath.
he only stares back, blinks once, and then twice.
"i just mean- uh, there are a lot of rumours, you know! when i was travelling around the neighbouring islands, they told me this place was haunted."
mihawk sighs. tourism, one of the most dreadful crimes of all. maybe even worse than piracy, or men with red hair who don't know when to stop talking. you remind him of one in particular, which doesn't help his already souring mood.
"i am not surprised," he says, tone measured, "many fear the unfamiliar. kuraigana is home to no phantoms, or vampires for that matter."
you can't help the smile that spreads unwillingly across your face. the barkeep at the last inn you'd slept in had indeed spoken of a vampire lord. "heard that one through the grapevine, huh?"
that stare is back on you again, and the moniker 'hawkeye' is starting to make way too much sense. "i beg your pardon?"
"don't worry about it," you snort, waving a hand in dismissal. "but i do have a favour to ask, you mind if i stay over for a bit?"
"..."
"listen, i have a good reason, okay?" you plead.
"and that is?"
"well, i may have taken something kind of important. from someone important. by accident, obviously, i'm totally not a pirate. i don't believe in piracy at all," you explain, gesturing to the ocean far behind you both. "and honestly, the guy seemed pretty mad, so i kinda just uh-"
"i get the feeling that if i let you continue on like this, we'll be here all day," mihawk says, before turning abruptly and heading back toward his original destination.
you run after him on a whim, expecting either rejection entirely or the cool steel of the sword he has strapped across his back. "hey, hey, wait up! i thought we were getting to know each other!"
"no time for that now," he replies, doesn't even turn to check you're following. "if what you say is true, i suppose leaving a poor mouse out to be eaten alive is unbecoming of a warlord."
"whatever you say, mr captain warlord sir."
"..."
"sorry, sorry! oi, watch it-"
FIN
happily ever after. he only kills u a little bit
#one piece#one piece x reader#dracule mihawk#hawkeye mihawk#one piece mihawk#mihawk x reader#dracule mihawk x reader#requests#requests open#gn!reader#mihawk x gn!reader
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jegulus & 71 pleaseee :))
i love all your writing btw!!!!
this prompt gave me an excuse to write this silly lil scene i've had stuck in my mind for days SO THANK U FOR THAT BABE
if u recognise what this is loosely based on . no u don't . i'm going thru something okay .
also !! thank u so much nonnie i'm very happy to hear it !! <3
71. "Kiss me, quick!"
Regulus doesn't know how he's managed to land himself a date with James Potter, but he isn't really complaining.
Or, well, maybe he is complaining a little bit, because, technically, it isn't a real date.
He thinks that, to all intents and purposes, though, it's absolutely a date. They're at a restaurant, sitting in the same side of a booth, and they keep gazing into each others eyes, smiling sweetly and giggling while they decide what they want to order.
Regulus can totally pretend this is real if he ignores the not-so-subtle glances James keeps throwing to the couple a few tables away from them. Or how he keeps whispering under his breath what he wants Regulus to do so they look more convincing. Or the fact that James chose to ask him to be his fake date through gritted teeth and a pinched brow.
He supposes it might be kind of his fault. Regulus hasn't been very nice to James, although there's been a considerable improvement since they met, which he believes should be more appreciated.
But, then again, the Regulus of seven months ago wasn't pathetically in love with James Potter.
Regulus misses him dearly. It was so much easier to keep his reputation intact when he didn't have to make an actual effort.
"I'm gonna put my arm around your shoulders," James informs him with a smile. It looks genuine, and it would've fooled Regulus if he didn't know the other man as well as he does.
He nods, offering a smile of his own that despite being considerably smaller, it's actually sincere. Regulus isn't too worried about it, though. Unlike James, he's an excellent actor, the best of their generation if he says so himself, and it's not hard to believe that he'd play his role perfectly.
Even if it's one as unbecoming as being James Potter's boyfriend.
As he said he would, James wraps an arm around him, and Regulus has to will his body to remain cool and relaxed but not too relaxed, or else he'll end up melting against James' body.
He's just so warm. Regulus reckons the other man ought to go see a doctor about it, get it checked, because it shouldn't be normal for a human being to feel so welcoming, so safe.
Regulus shivers, and he isn't sure if it's due to how disgusted he is by his own train of thought, or how well he seems to fit, tucked against James' side.
"I'm gonna put my head on your shoulder," he mutters, tone surprisingly even. Since he's already doing this, he might as well take advantage of it and properly enjoy it.
"Good idea," James murmurs, sounding excited, his eyes fixed on the guy sitting right in front of Macdonald.
Regulus thinks he'd feel more jealous if it weren't because this whole thing is a mere ruse to teach that asshole a lesson after breaking James' heart.
Still, he wishes James was paying attention to him. He's the Regulus Black, after all. It shouldn't be a choice in the first place.
"Oh," James gasps, squirming a little in his place and jostling Regulus' head a little from where it's resting on his shoulder. "He's finally noticed us."
Regulus can barely supress the urge to roll his eyes.
"Maybe we should turn it up a bit, then," he suggests, getting more comfortable and pressing even closer to the other man.
"You're right," James agrees without missing a beat, as if it's not completely unheard of, James admitting to Regulus being right about something. "I'm gonna whisper something in your ear, and you're gonna laugh about it. I know it must be difficult for you, but—"
"Pretending you're funny?" Regulus cuts him off, batting his lashes up at him all coyly. "It's nearly impossible, but unlike others, I do have the acting skills, so I think I'll manage."
James glares down at him, the gesture poorly disguised by a grin. The matching one Regulus gives him in response is totally genuine.
The other man leans down, until his lips are grazing Regulus' earlobe teasingly, and he has to bite down on his lower lip to keep an embarrassing noise from escaping.
"You're the most insufferable person I've ever met," James whispers, his breath hitting Regulus' skin with every word. "And I can't wait for this date to be over."
Oh, Regulus couldn't relate more. He's starting to come too close to popping a fucking boner for comfort.
He laughs, too loud and too eager, behaving like a stupid schoolgirl with a crush, and when realisation dawns on him, he does his best to ignore that he is basically a schoolgirl with a crush.
Regulus thinks that this must be what hitting rock bottom feels like.
"Fuck, he's looking this way," James says, still way too close to Regulus' ear, to his fucking neck. "He's actually looking this way. Oh my god, I can't believe this is working!"
"That makes two of us," Regulus huffs after daring to take a peek and discovering that James' annoying ex is, in fact, focused on them and their cheesy display. He even seems to be shooting daggers at them.
"Shit, Gideon looks so mad," James comments, positively giddy at the thought. "We gotta do something else, something that actually drives the message home."
"And what would that message be?" Regulus drawls, tilting his face the slightest bit, making it seem like they're actually having a Moment.
"Probably 'you're a fucking prick and I'm glad we're over and you're gonna regret playing with me like you did.'"
Regulus hums, considering, and then his mouth is opening before he even has the opportunity to think about it. "Kiss me, then."
James splutters, eyes widening comically and jaw almost dropping to the floor. Regulus wants to snap at him for breaking character after all their hard work, but now that James has decided to fuck up so badly, someone's gotta keep their charade afloat.
"What?" he nearly yells, and it's almost physically painful for Regulus, holding back his scowl.
"Fucking keep it down," Regulus hisses, his expression resembling a lovesick fool's. "How do you want this to look believable otherwise? Especially after sabotaging us like this."
James has no business looking as offended as he does right now. If anything, Regulus should be the one sporting that aggrieved frown, considering the circumstances.
"Shut up," James grumbles, all petulantly like a child. "I don't want to fucking kiss you."
Regulus swallows the sudden wave of nausea and the pieces of his broken heart, and arches a judging eyebrow.
"And you think I do?" he questions with a sniff. "I'm doing this to help, but if you'd rather ruin your own plan because of your stupid pride, then be my guest."
"I know you're not just lecturing me about pride, of all things—"
"James, I think he's about to get up. Fuck, what if he comes here? Shit, this is—kiss me, quick!"
"Excuse me, he's doing what!?" James whips his head around in mild panic, just to see that Gideon really is pushing his chair away from the table, all his attention on them.
"James," Regulus urges him, elbowing him harshly on the side.
It takes James a couple of seconds to return his focus to Regulus, at least a dozen emotions flickering behind his eyes. "I'm not—I don't think we—"
With a long-suffering sigh, Regulus grips the front of James' shirt and pulls him in, clashing their mouths together and swallowing James' surprised gasp.
He tries to tell himself it's fine, that he's kissed other people before when shooting scenes for his show, and this isn't any different. Regulus didn't feel anything back then, because it was just work, just another role, and in a way, this thing with James is, too.
But it doesn't matter how much he tries, how he keeps repeating these words in his head like a mantra. His heart still speeds up as he moves his mouth against James', who seems completely frozen on the spot. His cheeks still burn, the blush probably being noticeable from a distance. His body still relaxes against James', seeking more of that lovely warmth, more of James' touch.
It's over way too soon, but the other man isn't responding, and if he keeps it up for too long with James just sitting there and taking it, their audience is bound to notice.
Regulus pulls away with a truly idiotic smile, and he hates that he doesn't even have to fake it.
"See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" he murmurs, while James blinks down at him.
He's about to turn around, search for Gideon and hopefully relish in his jealous expression, when he feels a hand on his jaw. The grip is unforgiving, bordering on desperate, and before Regulus has the chance to question it, or swat the contact away, James is pulling him in for another kiss.
This one's different. Less performative. Regulus wasn't actually acting in the first one, because he's been wanting to kiss the other man for a few months now, but he was still hyperaware of Gideon, of what they were trying to do. Of James being completely unresponsive.
In this case, however, it's sort of impossible to focus on anything that isn't James, who's kissing him eagerly, hungrily, deepening the kiss the moment Regulus begins reciprocating. He licks at his lips, requesting permission, and Regulus grants it without a second thought, nothing but white noise inside his brain.
Their tongues tangle, and James makes a keening sound against Regulus' panting mouth. His fingers twitch around the material of James' shirt, a whimper on the tip of his tongue when their teeth clash in their desperation.
Once again, Regulus is the one that puts an end to it, even if it's more out of survival instinct than actual want. You see, they start to get too into it, especially considering they're in a very public place, surrounded by other people.
There's nothing wrong with a bit of snogging, and Regulus has seen way worse than their little make out session. But then James' free hand is gripping onto his waist, pulling Regulus in until he's nearly straddling his lap, blood rushing south at an alarming pace and hips twitching with the need to thrust in search of some friction.
Surprisingly, Regulus still has some sense of self-preservation left.
He captures James' lower lip between his teeth and tugs, dragging another obscene sound out of him, before finally breaking their kiss. Regardless, James doesn't allow him to get far, his hold on him tightening as soon as Regulus attempts to put some space between them.
"Yeah," James exhales, sounding absolutely wrecked. "That wasn't hard at all."
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I definitely wasn't binging through Krulu's tag like a horny depraved soul with no life (which i am) when i found this:
Pinnie I need to know how Krulu responds/reacts to Admin's existential crisis and crippling anxiety telling them that they're useless to him now that he has no need to hide and he can just dispose of them if he wants to.
[Fem reader.]
TW: Slight angst; Religious mindsets.
It's wonderful seeing your lord in such high spirits.
You never made note of it before, mostly to avoid being insulting, but it bothered you that Krulu felt unsafe all the time, resigned himself to the darkness of his sacred floor, didn't look beyond the walls of The Clergy's Eye or set foot onto his own garden.
It was disheartening.
He's a god! He's your god! He should face the world with nothing but pride and elegance, his might is to be witnessed and revered by all- Hiding is unbecoming of his perfect nature.
You suppose you have to thank Miara for all of this. For the safety and confidence Krulu now exudes, for the push she gave him to finally finally impregnate you- For your beautiful baby boys who have now grown up to take Earth's main annexes by storm! Life is good.
Life is wonderful.
But it's so, so scary...
Ever since your higher stopped using you as a vessel -There's no need for such anymore, after all- A depressing distance has been cast between you two. Something stifling.
You're so very happy for him, for Adelo and Adrul who can now communicate with their second father openly, see him in the flesh so much more often than they once did, for the two of you even -Because you do like witnessing Krulu's glory- But... Things just aren't the same.
You no longer feel Krulu in the back of your mind, caressing your thoughts and murmuring to you. His presence on your body is so diminished you feel naked. Unsafe. Out of sorts. You feel useless as his servant. This isn't right. It's something you're ashamed to admit, but you wish he'd return to your form.
What's wrong with you? To be wishing misery upon your lord...
You're his chosen, you're the mother of the rulers of Eden and Perdition, you're loved dearly by your lord and your angel- So... So why is it that you feel small? Like an ant? Without Krulu... You're just a human. Just a girl.
Tears prick at your eyes.
It's stupid, it's so stupid. You should be happy. This is a day of celebration! Your sons have come to The Clergy to partake in celebration with their parents and the core team after their impressive feats. And instead of spending quality time with the people closest to you...
You're sobbing on a faraway bench.
Pathetic.
You don't even hear the footfalls approaching steadily.
" Chosen. "
To say you sprung up like a startled feline is to put it flatteringly lightly. Your lord stares at you from a great height, gaze ever hardened, though you've been his servant long enough to spot the creases of worry in the corners of his eyes.
" M- My lord, excuse me- I'll be joining the festivities in no time. " You stammer, wiping the tear trails on your face and hoping your makeup isn't smudged to absolute shit. But it probably is.
Krulu makes a chuff, then takes a seat beside your figure, not looking directly at you. One set of arms rests on their hips, another steeples its fingers, the remaining one adjusts some of his jewelry.
" Speak. What troubles you? "
To the point. You've come to love that about him.
" Nothing serious, my worship. " You sigh. " You know how fragile the human mind is, I'm just being silly. "
The siadar's tail rattles across the floor.
" Our minds may no longer be interwoven, but make no mistake, I know when you dare lie to me. " He warns, eyes narrowed. " Your pain is still my pain, however. And to hurt me is not wise. "
You curl further into yourself on the bench, sniffling. " My deepest apologies- "
" I will not ask twice. What ails you? "
Slowly, you crane your neck back, meeting only the charred side of Krulu's face. With perhaps the most shaky and futile of inhales, your lips let loose.
" I'm scared. "
The siadar straightens slightly.
" My lord, I would never doubt your words- But I doubt myself. We aren't as close as we once were, and that's amazing! That's good! But... I feel so hollow without you in my body. What duty do I have now? I know it's stupid of me -I know I'm foolish- But ever since you've ceased to use me as a vessel, I've been so... Miserable. "
The shame coating your cheeks burns brighter than a thousand dawns, so you opt to bore holes into the stone of the garden's pathway.
There's a deep rumble from beside you, and soon, your small frame is lifted, deposited in the crevice where your lord's long legs cross, facing forward to the garden's expanse just as he does.
" You are going through withdrawal. "
Krulu begins, giving all your thoughts pause.
" Have been, for quite some time. "
Four hands touch your body, two loop around your neck in a familiar hold that has you sighing in comfort. The other pair rubs your sides up and down.
" I never did think it had reached this state, but then, you have a most insufferable habit of hiding your distress from me. "
" I... I don't want to disappoint. "
The implication is loud, even without being verbalized. A pause passes.
" Pray tell, what bred the idea into your mind that the mother of my heirs is expendable? " He challenges, met with silence for a few moments.
" Was it something I imparted onto you? "
And, when you think about it deeper, there was never a moment where Krulu made you feel as if you were nothing but a body. Or that you would someday outlive your use. Your sentiments are strange and you can't place their source aptly.
" Never! I don't recall a single thing you've said or done to me that could cause this- I think I'm just... Having some type of episode? " What a wonderful thing to say, you snort inwardly to yourself. Yes, you're going mental.
" Episode, hm? " Krulu chuckles above you. " Close enough. You got there on your own, songbird. "
" I- Lord Master, I beg your pardon? " Did he actually confirm you're going insane?
The siadar shudders at the title bestowed upon him, a squeeze of powerful claws reminding you not to rile him up now. It slipped.
" Just as when I took hold of your form your organism experienced many changes, you are now going through several more as well. " He explains simply. " My departure is intense, I would be alerted if you did not react to it. "
You blink, staring into his blazing orange hues. " ... But it has been years, lordship. "
Krulu's grin turns slightly mocking. " Indeed it has. "
You can only blink vapidly again, prompting him to laugh loudly and pet you almost condescendingly.
" How many years did you live as my vessel, lesser? "
Oh. Oh.
No fucking wonder you've been feeling this way for so long. Oh boy, this is going to take a long while... Who knew a hormonal imbalance could last this long, and be this devastating. Maybe to a doctor, it would be extremely common knowledge, but you often forget said information, because it hardly ever holds relevance these days.
You feel even dumber now. Dumb as a door. May the ground grow a hole and consume you immediately.
The berating inner-monologue about to kickstart in your mind is halted entirely by the sensation of Krulu's thin lips against the top of your head as the massive entity curls to shield you from the world at large.
" You are hereby ordered to seek me as soon as these flares of inadequacy show themselves, understood? " Even if his words hold supreme authority, you feel the insurmountable care behind them.
" My chosen is my adored and my adored is the light of this decrepit world. You hold more value than the universe could ever hope to achieve to me, yet you do not even realize it. " He whispers.
And you cry.
You sob like a fucking baby.
You wail into your lord's arms, full of relief, of love, passion and reverence and complete fanaticism- Enough euphoria to blind you for seconds of total bliss. It's almost like an orgasm, in a peculiar way.
He holds you throughout the entire catharsis, silent, stable like a stone wall. Only when your quiet sniffling has petered out does he speak again.
" Come to us, Adrul did say he has many tales of his time in Wrath. His mother should listen. "
You stand with Krulu's help, a smile as bright as the sun on your face.
Everything is okay.
You'll get through this.
For him.
Always for him.
Everything for him.
#Krulu oc#monster boyfriend#monster x reader#monsterwhorre#minors dni#terato#yandere monster#yandere teratophilia#terat0philliac#terato tag#monsterfucker
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OMGGGG can you write a more extensive fic or more hcs of ur recent post:3c it was soooo cute i need more
In relation to this post with Jason's first love being circus boy!Dick.
Bruce having full faith that Jason's sweet little first love story will fizzle out after some time spent apart
A foolish thing to convince himself of, given that phones exist
Bruce doesn't know what he was expecting, but a circus boy having his own phone was not one of them and he has to level with himself on what the assumption says about him l:
Digression aside, Bruce being an exasperated dad because Jason won't put the fucking phone down; he's always smiling at it, too and he needs to know why
The only conclusions he draws involve Dick corrupting his babygirl via dirty texts and requests for salacious pictures.
And there are photos - so many photos - but they're all harmless, ranging from dumb to pretty to thoughtful. It's just Dick sharing his life with Jason and showing how Jason fits in it and Bruce is OTL because this fucking charmer bastard how sweet.
Then things escalate and all at once there are phone and video calls. And Bruce doesn't realize it at first until he's talking with Jason one evening and Dick chimes in and Bruce is D:< because his time with his babygirl has been infringed upon more than usual!? Unforgivable.
Only it is [forgivable] because Dick was helping Jason with an assignment for school. Or talking him through some social struggle he didn't want to come to Bruce with (because Bruce's solutions, while appreciated, are dramatically passionate and sometimes bring about more issues because Bruce has a Jason complex that's so big omg).
(Dick will develop a similar complex; it's how he'll bond with Bruce it's chill).
But yeah, Dick existing in the life of the Wayne household via phone. Bruce doesn't realize he's come to enjoy Dick's company until one day Jason isn't on the phone with Dick and Bruce asks after him and is disappointed when Jason says Dick is busy
And then Bruce catches himself and gets petulant, only Alfred totally caught him and, 'smugness is unbecoming, Alfred )<' while he leaves the room and promptly OTL because damn it.
In addition:
Years into their friendship/relationship, Jason works with Dick's parents to visit during Dick's birthday
Which gives Jason all sorts of butterflies, only not for the expected reasons. Like, yeah. He's excited to see Dick. More wonderful though? Dick's parents acknowledging him.
Which arguably they did a while ago, but to be invited by them personally to something is so important to him
And Bruce is sitting there, wondering if Jason is genuinely awestruck or dropping heavy-handed hints for Bruce to invite Dick to their home for Jason's birthday and Bruce straight up plays dumb about it
Also:
Dick visiting Jason during some downtime. A brief stint because he still has to train and work on new routines, but a solid week with spent visiting Jason and spending time with the family
Bruce stalking the halls in anticipation of catching Dick sneaking into Jason's room.
Alfred catches Bruce in the act and points out how the boys are staying in one of the lounges
To which Bruce sprints off down the staircase and crashes the sleepover and Jason is so indignant and embarrassed although Dick laughs and welcomes Bruce like it's nothing
Bruce being charmed left and right because Dick and him click somehow, some way. Alfred throwing out a choice comment about how daughters find loves like their fathers and Bruce is ;A; suddenly seeing all the ways Dick is like him ahahahaha
Also, typical coming-of-age story dramas:
Jason, distraught because Dick gets a girlfriend and she's actually wonderful fuuuuuuuuuck
Bruce, internally very smug, outwardly cooing at his babygirl because it's okay Bruce has got him it's okay jay bb
And like, let it be a legit relationship. It doesn't last, but post-breakup Jason drops everything to fly wherever and surprise his bestie
And Bruce is pissed because he isn't raising a rebound ):<
Which Jason flusters because that's not what this is about stop embarrassing him omg
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The skirt hardly reached the elastic of the thigh-high socks leaving a thin strip of pale skin. Skin that Zephyr was eyeing hungrily. It was shorter than they'd anticipated and were so grateful for that fact, their earth ghoul and his beautifully long legs displayed perfectly.
Mountain can't help but fidget with the hem of the fabric, soft cotton toying between his fingertips, as he stared at his feet. Something shameful gnawed in his gut and grew the longer they sat and stared in an oddly loaded silence.
"Did you put it all on like I told you to?" The air ghoul asked with a quirked eyebrow and Mountain almost seemed to retreat into himself. Wrapped his arms around himself and nodded stiffly. Hair tucked behind his ear, they could see the peachy glow in his cheeks. "That's my good girl...Lift up your skirt for me."
Mountain shifted in place, shoulders raising up to his pink tipped ears.
"Buttercup, I wasn't asking."
His brow furrowed and the earth ghoul exhaled sharply, a growl stirring up somewhere in him. Zephyr cleared their throat and it died just as quick as it came. They weren't keen on repeating themself. Mountain unfolded himself and reached for his skirt with faintly shaking hands.
Zephyr's lips curled into something coy as soft white lace was presented to them. The way it cradles his bulge makes their mouth water. He strained against the fabric, like his cock might just spill out.
"White looks so good on you, makes you look like a doll..." They sighed fondly, eyes never straying from the ignominious display. "You make such a pretty girl for me, rosebud. I knew you would, meant to be a pretty girl, weren't you?"
Mountain made a slightly strangled sound and took the fabric in fistfuls rather than pinching and lifting it daintily.
"Say it for me, princess."
"I...I'm meant to be a pretty girl." His typical baritone softened, weak and purposefully gentle.
"Just needed help to realize it. You're better like this, isn't that right?"
"...I'm better like this."
Zephyr trilled happily, watching Mountain's face go several different shades of pink but more importantly watching his cock start to fatten up under the lace. If they didn't know any better they'd dare to say there was a small wet patch on the fabric. Their tongue darted out to wet their lips, an undeniable itch to mouth at his cock through his panties till he makes a proper mess of them.
"Take your panties off for me, darling."
Pink turned to a deep red as Mountain audibly choked. His breath caught in his throat, gaze snapping up to fix on them for the first time. He froze for a long few seconds but his eyes inevitably flicked away. He hooked his thumbs into the elastic and slowly began to wiggle them down his hips. Zephyr felt hunger turn voracious as his skirt fell and covered their view of him undressing but Mountain stepped out of his panties and the air ghoul's smile turned into an outright grin.
"Oh."
Mountain buried his face in his hands as a proper sense of shame washed over him. His skirt tented with his cock finally free, hanging heavy between his thighs. Peeking out just a few inches under the length of his skirt, the head was equally as flushed as his cheeks. It was ruddy, hard, and twitching. Bobbing helplessly between his thighs. Zephyr groaned outright and pressed their palm to their own arousal, feeling it kick under the weight of their hand.
"Oh, now that's just unbecoming of a proper lady, isn't it love?" Mountain shook his head, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. He was biting his lip a proper red as pre pearled at his tip.
"Not a lady," Mountain rasped "just a whore."
#spicy tag#writing#void writing#mountain ghoul#zephyr ghoul#nameless ghouls#mountain/zephyr#the band ghost#ghost the band#the band ghost ficlet
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