#I spent two years trapped in a well so I will seal you in a cave!! see how you like it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

quitealotofsodapop · 3 months

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I like to think that it takes a but before Wukong and DBK end up having a much needed conversation about Wukong's pregnancy and the reasons he'd kept it hidden. They didn't hold off on it until Revenge of the Spider Queen, but I don't think Wukong was exactly eager to talk about it.

I also think that Wukong ought to have had some hidden resentment not even he had been aware of at the fact his big brother, who definitely is the sort to swear he'd protect Wukong no matter what despite Wukong not needing it, hadn't been able to keep his promise when it came to Wukong's capture, torture, and imprisonment. Being thrown into a Furnace for nearly 50 years and then buried under a mountain for 500 more isn't exactly something you just 'get over', and that's just a small part of what Heaven had done to Wukong. Like... he doesn't blame DBK because there's no way he could have known... but also DBK had broken his promise to keep his baby brother safe and presumably the first interaction they had after Wukong was freed by the mountain was presumably DBK asking Wukong for help with his toddler son who was hurting himself with a power he could not control and Wukong was probably hurt by that. And he was definitely hurt by the fight they later had.

Basically, there's a lot of bad stuff that happened with the journey and the events that led up to it and I think Wukong was suppressing a lot of that trauma, and it came out in ways he didn't really notice. Part of that comes to a head during their first heart to heart when DBK is told why Wukong had kept the fact he was pregnant a secret. He still didn't know exactly how long he was pregnant, that it was indeed during the Journey and not something that came about after it, but he knows Wukong had been pregnant when he was sealed under the mountain and Wukong had knowingly kept that from him. The rest of that only came out while they were in the web, which onky served to infuriate DBK even more because he'd thought he'd HAD this conversation with Wukong already and he comes to find out that Wukong had kept even more from him.

Basically it be like,

DBK: Why are you being so secretive about this? A child is amazing!

Wukong: There's a reason I don't want this getting out, DBK! Could you imagine what would happen if work got out that the 'Great Sun Wukong' was pregnant and vulnerable!? What would the Jade Court do!? The thousands of enemies I've made over the years!? I'd be lucky if they didn't start lining up at my door to try to take advantage!

DBK: I would have protected you! You're my little brother, you could've have told me!

Wukong: Oh, like you protected me so well during the war when I got thrown in a Furnace and trapped under a mountain!

Silence, as Wukong realized what he said, and that he hadn't meant to say that aloud. He'd thought he'd gotten over that tbh.

Another thing to consider;

Wukong also missed out on 500 years of life back when he was captured. 500 years of being unable to make amends with his mate. 500 years unable to defend his people from the Fires and the hunters.

And DBK spent all that time free, married, getting invited to parties, and generally having a life while his younger brother rotted under that mountain.

From Wukong's perspective, DBK forgot about his little brother. And that def stirs up some resentment once the two reunite after DBK's release.

But the full truth is even uglier than that.

As Sun Wukong and DBK's arguing escalates, I can see DBK finally breaking down into tears.

DBK: "I wanted to save you xiandi! I truly did! Azure and the others claimed you a traitor but I Knew you would never surrender without cause!" Wukong, angry tears: "Then why didn't you try freeing me from the Furnance?! Did you just sit around for all of those 49 days!?" DBK, voice raising accidentally: "IF I DID THEY WERE GOING TO KILL TIESHAN!" *covers mouth in shock* (The room goes silent. A long-held secret having just been revealed. As if the demon king had expended all his magic to break a verbal geas/spell that had tormented him for centuries) Wukong: "...t-they? Who's they?" DBK, shaking with tears and anger: "Many. Not just Heaven... if I moved to help or defend you in any way they'd... they threatened to... "take away what I had conquered". They treatened it long before you even surrendered to the Emperor." Wukong: "Wh-who? Who would threaten that? Who knew you'd defend me even if I had surrendered-" *goes quiet at a realisation left unsaid* "No..." DBK, eyes saddened: "Yes." Wukong, now angry-crying: "But... why?!" DBK, unsure himself: "I believe... some of them suspected that it wasn't truly Heaven we would have surrendered for. We are too much alike in many ways..." Wukong, taking in a deep breath: "The Emperor he'd- He said he'd- I'm sorry..." DBK: "I know he threatened to take Liu'er away from you. Anyone with a brain could deduce that." Wukong: *nods mournfully* DBK: *deep sigh* "I suppose I could have at least visited you... buddha knows Macaque did." Wukong: "Wait, you know about that?" DBK: "Of course! He visited your mountain nearly every year on the dot. Mostly to plant peach trees and sunflowers in the soil outside and pray for your swift release. Odds are he did not reveal himself due to your falling out- Xiandi are you ok!?" Wukong, realising that Macaque still loved him even then: "NO!!!!"

I love emotionally tormenting these characters. >:3

#slow boiled stone egg au #sun wukong #lmk dbk #lmk demon bull king #lmk aus #jttw aus #lmk #lego monkie kid #journey the west #jttw #angst tw #shadowpeach

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thecorpuscorpse · 6 days

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#6- An Anonymous Source

CW: Knife use and blood, some 'fighting', mild kidnapping

It had been two months since the sealed letters began showing up on Villains bedroom window at night when they weren't there. Each one with a different wax embellishment on the front, made of paper worn with time, and never signed. The swirling perfection of the calligraphy was unlike anything Villain had seen before, just like the words they formed. Five letters were stacked on the desk, and the sixth Villain held by the lamplight, eyes scanning over words they always wished to hear. In brief moments, they almost believed them.

The life they lived was not as tender as the words directed at them. There was no beauty in bloodshed- not anymore, at least. Yet, whoever seemed to be hiding in their blind spot thought otherwise. With how long they ran Headquarters, it was refreshing to have a little spice in the routine of wondering who thought so highly of someone as lowly as them.

After sending their squads out for recon, Villain remained tucked away in their office at headquarters to keep an eye on cameras when one detected movement in the server room. Villain knew each employee schedule inside and out- after all, they arranged each one. Within the orchestrated machine-like facility Villain spent so many years building up, the blaring alarm was akin to grinding gears.

Hero.

Every so often, Hero would figure out a new password Villain set, or intercept shipment plans that then would lead Villain to foil Heros plans, and the process would repeat in a few weeks. It was so hard to find good help nowadays, so Villain found handling Hero a nice break from handling paperwork. There was monotony in routine, but at least they could take their impatience with their anonymous admirer out on the other.

"Dammit... now of all times, Hero?" They snapped as they stood from their desk.

As much as the alarm irked them, Villain was more irritated their work was being interrupted. Scanners failed to pick up any DNA trace, leading them to another dead end. Somewhere, someone saw Villain and thought fondly of them. For a while, the simple knowledge of it was enough to qualm the loneliness, but now was more of a curse. They called the author a coward. They called the letters a trap. Yet, Villain headed down the hall to pursue a perpetrator after they stayed up until four in the morning... again... to read the letters in hope something would tell them who claimed to adore them so.

The door to the server room was ajar, main lights turned out. The dull glow of blinking red, blue and yellow lights cast shadows on the wall in varied patterns. The main lights were shorted, forcing them to identify misplaced figures in the dim light. It only dug further into Villains impatience with the matter. Against the low hum of the computers, a tinny clank echoed near the back wall.

Villain kept steady strides slow, mindful of the linoleum under their shoes and how quiet their breath was. Silence, as well as any leverage, was better than none, and it worked to Villains virtue when it guided the blade to the turned back of who they knew was tampering with their tech.

"I don't have time for you tonight, Hero," Villain said as they pressed the knife against their spine. "There is plenty of work for me as is without you getting involved."

Dressed in all-black, which happened to be quite flattering for the Hero, they tuned after setting their tools down and raising their hands. Villain took a step forward and pressed the edge to their throat.

"That's why I figure I'd lighten the load~" Hero said, offering an innocent shrug. "By-"

"Yes, yes, thwarting my recruitment of more people through disrupting our log system," Villain droned, pressing the blade harder. "Now really, I do have pressing matters to attend to."

There was a static in the air, and not from the whirring machines around them. The more Villain stood in it, the more irritated they got. It showed in the quick right cross-swing of butt-end of the knife towards Heros head before the move was blocked by Heros hand.

"Wow, whats the matter with you?" Hero mused with a shit-eating grin as he twisted Villains arm into a lock behind their back. The knife clattered onto the floor. "Not very like you to 'not have time for me', Villain. Plus, what a sloppy execution."

"You don't know me, Hero," Villain hummed with a smile in their voice, flexing their hand under Heros grip. "So I'll show you a real sloppy execution."

Villain dug their heel into Heros foot, and used the momentum to twist them to slam into the server paneling. With the grip loosened, Villain snaked away and went for the knife. It was only a second more before Villain was swept off their feet- literally- and hit the ground.

"Yeah, that was pretty sloppy too," Hero said as they went to further restrain the fallen Villain. "You're making me jealous, don't tell me there's another Hero you have to go cause havoc for~ Ugh, I'll be heartbroken!"

Villain struggled against Heros grasp, writhing and twisting their body so they could never get a solid pin. While Hero had their brawn at their side, Villain knew it was only a matter of leverage.

"I do, but they aren't a Hero~"

They took the moment Hero stalled in their attempts to pin them down to get their lets out to kick Hero back, knocking the wind out of them. Villain went for the knife again and came up behind Hero to hold the knife to their throat again.

"Bullshit," Hero gasped out, though an amused smile graced their stupid face. "I can barely tolerate you as it is."

Villain contemplated for a moment. What harm would a white lie do when they didn't even know who was writing the letters? There would be no one else to go after. It would be nice to pretend- Villain did it enough as it was.

"Oh, you should hear how they talk about their love for my vile and vulgar ways Hero. How they adore the plans of misery I make for the thousands," Villain gripped Heros hair and tilted their head back to look at them proper. "And the tongue they have..."

"Then why aren't you with them now?"

"Because I'm dealing with you," Villain said as their jaw set. "A thorn in my side since we crossed paths, and always coming back like a damn infection," They brought the edge up against Heros neck. "You are pestiferous- a plague in my life every time your head pops up." Villain narrowed their eyes, bringing small beads of blood against the blade. "And I think I'm going to purge the source tonight."

"Then do it."

Below them, there was a rumble followed by a blaring alarm from what Villain assumed was a few floors down. It only took one distracted second for Hero grab Villains wrist and flip them over and onto their back before they dove behind a rack of server blocks. There was a flash, and the room filled with smoke. The colors against the smoke were disorienting, yet once Villain got hold of their knife, they could barely make out a figure escaping through one of the vents.

"One thing after a-fucking-nother..." Villain hissed as they ran out from the server room and towards the blaring fire alarm down below.

Once done dealing with the aftermath of a blown-apart storage unit, Villain trudged back up to their office and collapsed in their chair. It was now six in the morning, and looking at the camera they had set up to face their bedroom window at home- no letter to be seen on the window. They pushed their hair back with a sigh, before deciding to freshen up there, and continuing their monotonous work for their empire, with breaks reading loving words Villain needed to hear after such a long night.

---

The seventh letter was different than the rest.

It had taken longer than the rest to arrive- almost a month later than the last one, when the others came once or twice a week. Nights were seemingly endless when Villain would simply stare at the window from the camera. They knew if they were home, they wouldn't arrive, and so they worked long into the night, going home every few days to make sure their plants were watered.

Unlike the other ornate and delicately put together envelopes, the newest came in a simple black one. The handwriting was reminiscent of the others yet the words scrawled unsteadily. The droning news anchor in the background discussed the impending weather as Villain attempted to make sense of everything they were reading.

What was said was not the romantic poetry they were used to, of regrets and promises they wished to keep to Villain of seeing them, of truly being with them and being sure there would be nothing keeping them apart anymore.

The signature at the bottom made Villains heart sink. Not because of who had written the confession they read. Not because it was from someone they wouldn't have wanted at all. But because it wasn't a signature at all.

Except a smear of blood.

Villains head felt light, the corners of their vision hazing a little as they tried to make sense of what it all meant. They sat down in their chair, still staring at the letter before them. It wasn't until the news anchor interrupted their broadcast with breaking news.

'The beloved and respected savior of our beautiful city, Hero, has officially been pronounced dead today by coroners after their body had been returned to city officials by an anonymous source. Further details the cause to be released.'

"No..."

They took a long look at the radio, eyes wide in disbelief as their mind began to piece everything together. In a moment, they were at their sequencer and after they got a sample of the paper, pulled out their knife. What little blood left from their fight with Hero remained, and they flaked off the dry remains in the other bottle. Time blurred as they waited, walking crop circles into their carpet while the machine processed the samples.

They didn't see anyone on the cameras the night before. No sound, no disturbance. First nothing was on the window, and when daylight broke, there it was. They hadn't dealt with Hero recently, which they only grew to notice the more they thought.

They couldn't settle down, and any time their office door was knocked on, they would simply throw a book at it and tell whoever it was to bother them tomorrow. Word must have gone around because soon the knocking stopped and Villain was left alone with the machine, which whirred just like the servers did their last night with Hero.

They were pulled out of their mind when the machine stopped, and the face glowed green with the information Villain already put together in their walk about their office.

DNA Sequencing Completed- Results: 100% Match

---

Villain drummed their thumb against the steering wheel of the car. Occasionally, it would follow the tempo of their racing heart, or the shake in their muscles from the adrenaline in their blood. The timer they set on their phone for five minutes was halfway through. Villain regretted even permitting that much time to wait. It had been too long already, and with any more time, they could be too late.

Three minutes and no sign. Villain shifted in their seat, instead now tapping their foot and squeezing their hands together. The last they slept was indistinct, waiting for the right moment to make their next move. A drastic one, which would leave more loose ends than they would like, but it was just as a drastic situation they had on their hands.

Four minutes and Villain was getting ready to get out and handle the ordeal themselves. They checked to make sure their gun was loaded, as they did a dozen or so times before even though they hadn't used it. Before they reached the door handle, the passenger side opened to Villains relief.

"Very good. Hurry up." Villain said, gesturing with the gun to get in.

Five minutes was all Villain needed. As they sped off, the silence was cushioned by the low hum of the car. Villain didn't know what to think. What to say. What if, in the time they were gone, Hero was too? The thoughts were heavy as Villain drove, until their passenger pulled them out of their head.

"I shouldn't be doing this..."

"Then why are you." Villain said, rather than asked.

"Well, you told me with a gun to my head that you hunt me down and kill my girlfriend in front of me, then send my body parts to various family members."

"Good memory, and I will if you make any attempts to run."

"Good to know..." The accomplice said with a tight-lipped smile before looking down at the bag.

"And... I'm helping someone, aren't I?" They asked after another moment of passing silence. "Someone you care about?"

There was a thick lump that sunk into Villains throat. It irked them to know they had to get outside sources with such a high risk, but they were pushed to no other choice. They offered a single, but humble nod before turning off onto a dirt road.

"What the fuck did you say you did again?"

"I'm a first assistant," they said as they shuffled the medical bag on their lap while twisting the handles nervously. "Not quite a surgeon, but I'm getting there."

"Of course, I pick up the intern in the operating room..." Villain uttered as they watched the road. The car, being small, only allowed the young surgeon to hear the remark clearly.

"The operating rooms of the ICU," they huffed a bit too confidently for Villains liking. "Much more intense and less room for error. I mostly make sure the room is clean but I do help with sutures, and other general care."

With a less than patient sigh, Villain parked the car in the driveway and looked the young surgeon square in the face, gun held towards them with a finger threatening pressure on the trigger.

"Keep your attitude in check, and keep them alive." They said flatly. "Both the person I'm bringing you to, and your girlfriend."

It had just been the two of them since Hero showed up battered, beaten and bloodied just two weeks before. They hadn't gotten better and while Villain was good at many things, medical diagnosis weren't one of them. They took leave from work to get Hero somewhere more secluded than Villains home closer to the city.

When Hero was awake, Villain limited themselves to one question because Hero would get winded from speaking too much. Day by day, they learned how Hero wanted things to be different, not only for themselves only, but between the two. How they grew to love Villain, admire them and respect them, to want them yet be restricted from doing so. Hero detailed how they convinced a select few to assist them in faking their death with a glow which made Villain hopeful, but then Hero fell asleep before telling them how it went, and hadn't woke up since. It'd been three days.

With a nervous nod in understanding, the two got out of the car, and Villain walked the man to the house with a gun drawn on them the entire way. Sleepless nights were still to come, yet there was a bit more relief in knowing Hero stood more of a chance now. Villain hoped they didn't make a mistake, for Hero wouldn't be able to survive it.

#WOW much thank you for your patience!#with so much to work with I toyed around with what I wanted to do #plus life stuff idk #did you know it takes like weeks to sequence dna but the world record is 5 hours #so im going with that #i remember in my criminology class playing a ncis game about dna sequencing which I thought was pretty neat #did you also know that servers rooms benefit from valley areas because the wind is able to keep the building cooler?#there are also surgeons and first assistants and then surgical technicians like a tiered thing #anyways enjoy!#corpus indulgence #my writing #villain x hero #hero x villain #angst #writing #villain × hero

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queenendless · 7 months

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❤️‍🩹Lost in a Moment (AU!Adult!Gojo Satoru x Adult!Geto Suguru)❤️‍🩹

A/N: Listening to Lost In A Moment from Stray Gods the Role Playing Musical helped put me in an emotionally wrecked state.

Yet watching yesterday's new episode ... that topped it. 😢🤧

CW: DEFINITE ANIME SPOILERS; UP TO S2 E9 NOW! AND YEAH IMPLIED MANGA SPOILERS BUT NOT IN MUCH DETAIL! Angst, hurt/comfort, reincarnation into modern age AU with retained memories of canon lives, cliche corny cheesy sappy lovey dovey feels, and yes Imma make more for this AU with the rest of my JJK babies ... and put in some x Reader soon. When the next episode drops... cause God that's gonna be a ride. OF FEELS! 😭

Credit for JJK goes to Gege ... despite all the madness they've put our babies through!

* Please DON'T plagarize, translate, or repost my FANFIC content. Reblog, like, and follow instead.

More JJK content coming as daily as this season runs. I hope you enjoy.

So much blood shed.

So many lives lost.

Panic and disgust at all that carnage yet enjoyment enacting violence against those special grades.

Roughly a thousand transfigured heads rippled through the blood-soaked station, trapped in his Infinite Void, within two tenths of a second.

Then came the Prison Realm.

The cube swishing open to take its true form.

Its wrinkly red skin stretched out into an X, wires stretching out its shrunken warm colored eye dripping with blood.

His instincts screamed to turn tail and get away.

"Yo Satoru."

That waving, closed eye smile sent unsettling, too trusting tremors through him.

"Huh?"

"Long time no see."

A fake?

A transformation technique?

No … the Six Eyes burned it onto his brain.

It all came flowing into him.

Three years' worth of his youth.

Smiling at that face.

Eyes full of hope.

Taking a minute to unfold in his head.

Enough time for the Prison Realm to merge with him, jutting out of him, keeping him hanging and pinned.

"You shouldn't lose yourself in thought, in the midst of battle, Satoru."

I can't sense any cursed energy. I can't get my body to move, either. This is checkmate, huh?

"So, who the hell are you?"

"I'm Suguru Geto. Don't you remember me? How sad."

"Your body, your cursed energy … all the information provided by these eyes is telling me you're Suguru Geto. But … my soul is rejecting all that! Now answer me already! Who the hell are you!?"

"Creepy." Pulling on that near invisible thread. Lifting the top half of his head off. Revealing the mouthed alien brain; juices dripping down his face, his wide ass toothy smile pissing him off. "How could you tell?"

"That's my technique you see. I can pass from one body to another by replacing its brain with myself. Of course, I'm also able to use that technique etched into the body I inhabit. I really wanted this man's Curse Manipulation and this situation, too. You didn't have Shoko Ieiri handle the disposal of Suguru Geto's body that day, did you?"

He couldn't … he just couldn't bear it.

Watching his one and only best friend being buried … or even cremated … after all those years spent apart on opposite sides … his selfish grieving heart had to keep him.

Plopping that head cap back on, squelched noises were made, it all churned Gojo's guts.

"That was an odd time for you to show consideration. But thanks to that, I was able to obtain this body with ease."

Pulling the thread to hold its creped hold back in place.

"You needn't worry. I'll release your seal eventually. A hundred… no … maybe a thousand years from now? You're just too strong. And you're in the way of my plans."

"Hah! Have you forgotten? Who was it that beat the crap out of that body before I killed him?" His stubborn pride and confidence in his distant relative turned aspiring pupil knew no bounds.

"Yuta Okkotsu, huh? I just don't see as much appeal in that boy as you do. Copying techniques without any conditions, and a bottomless well of cursed energy … both of those were just effects obtained from binding the soul of his most beloved with a pact. Sorry to say this, but Yuta Okkotsu can never replace you."

False Geto …

No ….

Kenjaku.

Damn him.

"Goodnight, Satoru Gojo. We'll meet again in the new world."

His pleading hopes that his one great weakness – his greatest strength – would respond to his desperate cries to come back and end the madness were all dashed.

Betting all his hopes that Suguru was still in there somewhere, trying to break free like himself, and that someway, somehow, something blessed would arrive amiss all this cursed madness.

Yet, even as the instincts of keeping him safe ingrained in the overtaken body of his best friend surfaced just to choke his hijacked being, it was a lost cause.

Lost in the moments of the times he missed most of all.

Lost in the song of their laughter, their fights, their banter, when they could be kids and nothing else.

Being each other's strength.

Making up for what the other lacked.

Each other's missing piece.

And to have that cursed Kenjaku make him relive the hell of a life failing Suguru. Tainting his entire being. Not even in death could the suffering end for his lost and lonely other half; matching Gojo's inner suffering for over a decade long in a world without Geto.

The strongest one, the honored one, defeated by the greatest curse that is love.

Failing his moral compass, his one and only friend, who needed someone in his time of need when he fell apart over his struggling morals after witnessing the cruel truth of their world. Expected to protect those that don't deserve it. Losing those that are too pure for that horrific reality.

Unable to protect his students, allies, and friends from the onslaught of hell that came for them that bloody Halloween night.

Unable to resist the moment that monster greeted him in Suguru's voice.

Unable to save the one he loved most of all.

Three years spent trapped.

Trapped in isolating hell.

Swallowed whole in suffocating, soul crushing darkness.

The muffled voice of someone pulled him out of the murky pulls of deep slumber. The jostling shake in his being, the solid digging of fingers in his shoulders, the overwhelming heat shoving back the freezing sunken teeth of the nightmare.

The muffled sound became clear out in the open as the most familiar voice of all was yelling out his name desperately.

"Satoru!? Wake up! Come on, please!"

Rescuing him from that insufferable reality.

Awakening him in a new one.

Blinking his eyes up several times, heaving and catching his breath as he broke out into a sweat.

Non vibrant eyes darting all over as he took in everything. Late at night. The AC humming in the background. Streams of moonlight creeping in through the skinny gap of the curtains. Trickling along the hunched form of Geto over him in their shared bed, wearing a long-sleeved charcoal sleeping shirt, an all-knowing concern written all over his face.

"What was it this time?"

No stitched-up forehead.

No more lies.

Looking into those enriching, trusting eyes.

Gojo shakily breathed out, draping an arm over his eyes. "Me being sealed away."

It is him.

Really, truly, his Suguru.

Breathing.

Safe.

Free.

Gojo felt his walls collapsing.

His vulnerability surfacing.

"The price a do over gives us." Geto murmured somberly.

"Yeah." His throat constricted, his eyes watered up, gritting wrecked grunts left him as his hand enclosed in a shaking veiny fist. Trying to keep it all in, not wanting Suguru to see him falling apart over a bad dream. But the contents of said dream made him want to behold to hold Suguru and never let him go again.

Alarmed by panic, Geto leaned down immediately to lay right atop him, embracing his emotional love with his own tightening grip, shushing him insistently as his hand brushed through those lovely white locks. "It's okay. I'm here. We're both here."

Recollections of their past lives flaring up in dreams is but one of the few downsides to reincarnation in this new modern age. But shouldering that burden with another makes it less of a struggle.

"This better not be a dream." Gojo lifted his arm, revealing the pain flashing in those emotionally teary blue eyes which tore at Geto's heartstrings. "Or I swear to God," Gojo sobbingly hiccupped as he clawed at Geto's clothed back, distraught battling relief within himself as his face nuzzled into Geto's strong neck.

"It's real. All of it. And this." Geto's tender, warm firm lips pressing to his cheek felt too good to be true. "I'm real, Satoru. As are you."

Breathing in Suguru's scent to calm his irrational state of mind, easing down just hearing his name spoken in that cozy voice from the genuine article. "This is real." Whispering that mantra over and over slowly kept Gojo grounded in the here and now as it did with Geto.

Gojo's next words struck a chord within them both. "I … I'm sorry Suguru."

"What?" Geto pulled back enough to look into those normal yet breathtaking blue eyes.

"For everything. For ignoring your pain all those years. For not letting you go when I … I killed you. If it weren't for me, that bastard wouldn't have taken it over and everyone … everything … wouldn't have turned out so wrong. I ... I was never the same without you." Gojo's voice cracked, braving himself to look him right in the eye even in this harried sorry state, when a gentle peck to his lips halted his words.

Geto's almond eyes narrowed as they became murky with lament. "Don't blame yourself. I'm … sorry too. For leaving you. For not divulging all my troubles to you. I just … the weight of the world was already on your shoulders. I believed I alone could find a solution to my problems … and that of our world … even if it meant becoming the worst curse user of our age. Yet after all that time …" His smile had Gojo at a loss of breath as Geto's other hand cradled his tear-stained cheek, rubbing calming circles with his thumb. "You still trusted me to the very end. After all the damage I had caused. After I hurt you … envying your power over seeing you for the person I always knew you to be deep down inside." Geto shut his eyes, letting his own tears trail down freely, sparking from the sliver of moon beams hitting them, mesmerizing Gojo.

To him, Geto Suguru never looked more radiant.

Gojo dug his fingers in Geto's back to pull himself up enough for their faces to be a mere inch or so apart, wiping away his tears in kind. "We've both suffered. All of us did. Doomed in that world from the start. Trying to change it all our own way. Prepared to lay our lives down for that dream. And yet, here we are."

Geto chuckled in wry amusement, resting his forehead against Gojo's. "The irony of it all."

Both ready to welcome death when their times came. On the same day. Their anniversary. Only to reawaken in a whole new world, one with no cursed energy at all. No cursed spirits, no sorcerers, nothing. With everyone else coming along for the ride. And all the memories attained from their past lives. Whatever higher power intervened to bring it all to fruition, neither knew at the time whether to be thankful or resentful.

And yet … finding their grown-up selves seeing each other again in the flesh … instinctually running to each other, collapsing in each other's arms, heart ruled over reason ever since.

Such as now.

Sitting up on their legs and calves, their embrace was as cathartic as the first one shared in the pure light of a new venture. Looking into each other's eyes, the sparks of hope reigniting.

"I forgive you, Satoru." Geto gently rubbed his nose against Gojo's.

"I forgive you too, Suguru … my one and only." Gojo's endearing grin had Geto laughing softly.

"Same old Satoru."

"Of course. It's still me, after all." That cheeky smirk says it all.

"How I have missed that sight …" Geto's gaze gleamed with amour that made Gojo's heart soar. "We have a second chance. We all do."

"Let's not waste it, then." Gojo's sculpted strong hand weaved through those silky raven locks, cradling the back of Geto's head. "I'm willing to fight for this life if you are. Nightmares, memories, and all." The conviction rose to meet his newfound dream.

"I'm not going anywhere. If I must live again, I'd rather live a long life worth living … as long as it's with you." Geto's own firm resolve gave him the urge to just come out and say it.

"We are the strongest duo, after all~!"

Geto's free hand playfully wacked Gojo's white long-sleeved shoulder, chortling, "Idiot."

"You love it, though." That drawn out kiss lingered between them as their half-lidded eyes stayed connected. "Admit it."

"I do." Geto's warm breath made Gojo want to kiss him again, longer, deeper, relishing his taste.

Drowning in the overwhelming pleasure as he pulled Geto even closer by the head, wrapping an arm around his body, meshing perfectly together.

As their tongues battled for dominance, Geto pushed Gojo to lay fully down in their big welcoming bed, laying down atop him once more, parting their panting mouths, connected by a line of their saliva, burning puffs hitting each other's mouths. "I love you, Gojo Satoru. All of you."

His soul told it to be true.

"And I love you Geto Suguru … I always have. In our old life… in this one …. if it's with you, that's the only place I want to be."

"So sappy. Even for you." Geto teased.

"Hey, you're stuck with me for life. Deal with it." Gojo stuck his tongue out, feigning annoyance.

"Like I have any other choice," Geto sighed, resigning to his fate, but his smitten grin displayed how fine he is to it all. The loud yawn released from his taller lover had him cup his cheeks to give a goodnight smooch, moving to lay on his side, cozying up to Gojo. "Good dreams should await you now."

"Having you here with me is a dream come true~" Gojo purred, intertwining their legs together as he wrapped his arms around Geto's shoulders.

Geto rolled his eyes, exasperated. "God the corniness."

Gojo laughed mirthfully before kissing Geto repeatedly, speaking in between the breaks. "I mean it. I do."

Wrapping his own arms around him, Geto could relax completely knowing his dear Satoru was so happy. Thanks to him. Because of him. Return those kisses in kind, humming at how good it felt. "Well, I do too."

Embracing each other under the sheets, lulled by each other's warmth, their even breathing and synchronized heartbeats became the telltale signs that they both fell fast asleep.

The catharsis was profound.

For that night would be followed by many others.

Where dreams come to fruition.

When living peacefully was possible.

Waking up to the early morning sunrise and seeing themselves in each other's arms brought sleepy smiles to their faces, kissing soundly before snuggling even closer to each other, falling straight back to dreamland.

Lost in a moment.

Lost in a song.

Their moment.

Their song.

Of a new beginning.

Together.

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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 11 months

Text

𓅨 Your Fate is Sealed With Mine: Chapter Eleven

Your Fate is Sealed With Mine: Y/N Burgess is the granddaughter of Alex and Paul, and after having spent so many summers at their manor and always wondering why she was forbidden from entering the basement, she descends the steps into the world of the Order. She broke out the being that had been trapped in that glass cage, but what does he want with her now that he is free?

Warnings: Language, Reader Choses Verbal Violence When Drunk, Alcohol Consumption Mentions.

To Note: Morpheus/Dream x Female!GranddaughterReader, based on Netflix’s ‘The Sandman’, Reader now has long-ish hair for plot reasons (Just so Morpheus can tug on it later).

Word Count: ~2.4k

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Long after you had stumbled back to the hotel room you had booked for the night, drunk off your arse and in need of Advil and tonic, you dropped your aching body into the hotel bed with a soft groan. Drinking that much alcohol was not a good idea, who knew what trouble you could have gotten yourself into being in that state at a club, but you were feeling spiteful tonight… er, last night… it was after two in the morning. If he didn’t want you kissing or fucking anyone, he was going to have to watch your drunk arse like a hawk. Your eyes looked at the London skyline outside your hotel room, glazed over by the alcohol.

“Do you like pissing my brother off?” You didn’t flinch or ever move at the voice. No, you only rolled your head to look at the woman standing in your hotel room with a raised eyebrow. Brother? She had to be talking about one man.

“I can kiss whoever I damn well please,” You grumbled, your voice coming out in a croak. “And he certainly doesn’t control me.”

“Mhm, I got that when you went and got yourself piss drunk on purpose.” The woman chuckled, taking a few steps closer. “Have to admit, I’m curious about a woman who intentionally pisses off my brother.”

“Which one are you?” She smiled pleasantly.

“I am Death.” You grunted at her. Death didn’t look like you expected… but then again what was death supposed to look like?

“So then Death, where the hell have you been in the last one hundred years?” You grumbled out, your drunk brain entirely fearless to talk to an Endless with such an attitude. “Dream has how many siblings and not one of you help him? You’ve got a lot of gall showing up.”

Her eyes narrowed at you and you narrowed your own, your irises blazing with silver color. The room’s lights flickered as both of your powers presented themselves. Drunk you wasn’t going to back down from challenging the Endless though, and it was only after Death started chuckling that you backed down with a huff.

“He’s lucky to have you.” She murmured as your slow brain tried to understand what was going on. A far-off look echoed in her eyes. “You’re right, we should have done something, it’s inexcusable to have left our brother trapped there.”

“I don’t understand why he chose me or what it means to be bound.” You blabbered, dropping back against the mattress and feeling your head swimming from the alcohol in your veins. “And he deserves siblings that actually act like siblings. None of you deserve him.”

Death let out a sigh and sat on the end of the bed.

“You’re right, we don’t deserve him.” She spoke softly. “But he’s got you now, and I know that you’re what he needs. Maybe you can curb his egotistical ways.”

“He shouldn’t need me, he shouldn’t need anyone.” Your voice was listless in the night, barely there as your mind wandered until you slipped into sleep.

Taking the train back to Wych Cross was miserable and you were hungover. Even more so when it was God knows how early in the morning. At least the sun wasn’t out yet or you would be in a world of hurt. The headache that already plagued your brain left you groaning softly in your seat, miserable and well-hungover. You had spent the first hour with your eyes closed, leaning against the window while trying to pretend like you hadn’t gotten yourself blackout drunk with Jemima last night.

You knew that when you had that much to drink you usually ended up blacking out and completely forgetting several hours. It was a stupid idea no matter how spiteful you were feeling at that moment. You just hoped that it was worth it because there was no doubt in your mind that Dream was probably seething from your actions. A rather scary thought considering that he was an Endless. Would you inadvertently tip him into smiting you or something? Maybe considering your interactions thus far. You’d have to watch your manners with him. Your phone buzzed and you let out a groan. You fumbled with your messenger bag and dug around until you found your phone. Blinking at the screen, you wrinkled your nose.

Jem: Still among the living love? [9:21]

Your fingers were sluggishly tapping on the screen, backtracking as you hit the wrong letters and just generally failed at spelling.

Y/N: Sod off, Jemmie. I’m not dead. [9:21]

Jem: Ooh, Y/N-bear is feeling feisty this morning. You drank like a fish last night, love, who were you trying to forget? [9:21]

Not to forget, trying to piss off, actually. You weren’t going to tell her that though. The last thing you needed was for Jemima to get mixed up in this mess. Besides, you don’t even remember if your plan actually worked in the first place.

Y/N: Total blackout, I’ve got nothing to report :/ [9:22]

Jem: Disappointing, but classic drunk Y/N Burgess. How’s the head? You make your train on time? [9:22]

Y/N: Halfway to Wych Cross already and ready to die in a hole from my headache. [9:23]

You reached up and adjusted the ball cap you had on, trying to tilt it so the morning sun didn’t pierce your eyes so harshly. It was several minutes before Jemima replied to your text, and you spent those minutes looking out the window at the passing scenery. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a cloud of black weaving in and out of the trees, keeping up in time with the train. Startling in your seat, you straightened up and looked closer. You could see a trail of glowing red eyes and in that instance, your arm started burning in pain once more. That beast, it couldn’t be the one that… a loud crash to your left diverted your attention to see an older lady who had dropped her walking stick. Someone picked it up for her.

“Oh dear me,” She gasped. “Terribly sorry!”

“Oh no worries, Mum, here you are,” She was handed back her walking stick. You turned your head back to what looked like a hell beast following along the train. It was gone.

“And now I’m losing my mind,” You whispered, thumping the side of your head against the glass window with a tired sigh. Your phone buzzed one last time and you glanced at the screen.

Jem: Drink lots of water, love. I’ll call you later. I’ve got to run to meet with a client [9:28]

At least Jemima’s life was on track because you felt like yours was falling apart. Closing your eyes, you reached up and felt your wrapped wounds. They pulsated with sharp pain, a deep throb that was in time with your heartbeat.

Upon reaching Wych Cross, you forwent getting a taxi in favor of a miserable walk home, hoping that you would perk up from a nice walk to hide how hungover you were. The last thing Paul needed was a hungover, moody granddaughter. So walking it was and you were lucky that it was a very nice day to do so. Just so damn bright… Reaching the wooded road that led to Fawny Rig, you stuck your hands in your pockets and kicked at a rock that had made its way into the road. It skittered down the road before ultimately falling to the side.

At your slow pace, it probably took you about forty-five minutes to walk to Fawny Rig, but at least by the time you were walking up to the front doors you felt less hungover. Letting yourself in, you took off your shoes and left your bag hanging on the banister to the stairs. Food first, then you could clean up and sleep. On your way to the dining room, you passed Herman who welcomed you back and said that he would fix you a plate for lunch. So you continued your way into the dining room and found Paul holding a newspaper, but staring off into space.

“Lost in thought?” You asked, kissing his cheek in greeting and then taking a seat directly next to him. Paul perked up.

“Darling you’re back! How was your trip? Did you enjoy your time with Jemima?” Paul asked, latching onto something to speak and think about other than grandpapa Alex upstairs. You smiled gently and patted his hand reassuringly.

“It was wonderful, we went out for dinner at a most scrumptious Japanese restaurant Jemima’s been wanting to try.” You left out the part where you then went to a club and both got hammered with alcohol. You definitely didn’t tell him that you didn’t remember anything from the club. His heart didn’t need that strain.

“Oh, I’m so happy that you enjoyed yourself.” Paul sighed, readjusting his glasses to push them further up his nose. “These last few days certainly have been trying.”

“They have, how have you been?” You asked while Herman came in with filled plates and a fresh tea tray with the cook's famous biscuits. While Paul told you about his past few days, you both did your best to enjoy lunch. When you finished off your tea and sandwich, you leaned back in your seat and wrinkled your nose. After having that wild night at the club, you felt like you needed a good wash… or soak in the tub. You were partial to baths. You excused yourself, airing out your desire to wash off the morning's travel, and made your way upstairs. The first thing you did was start the water in the antique claw foot tub. You thumbed through the bath oils that were stocked in the cabinet nearby and picked one, adding a few drops to the waterline that was slowly rising.

With the bath nearly ready, you edged your body out of your traveling clothes and carefully unwrapped your raw-looking arm. The scratch marks looked red and angry, a far cry from how they looked a week ago. It was like the wound was regressing from its original form. Then again, it was from a hell beast and you weren’t sure how exactly a scratch in The Dreaming transferred over to the waking world. You tried not to think about the oddity of the stinging wound and stepped into the bath, sighing as you sink beneath the warm water.

The water felt heavenly against your aching body and leaning your head back against the edge of the claw foot tub, you closed your eyes and tried to relax. It wasn’t entirely too hard, the lovely scent of the bath oil calmed your mind and your muscles were soothed from the heat of the water. Your tiredness drew you into nodding off into a gentle lull of sleep that was an escape from the slight headache that remained of your hangover. You didn’t know how much time had passed since you had gotten into the bath, but your stress had entirely melted away and the pain in the arm you had resting over the side of the tub had disappeared. You were slowly nodding off when you felt fingertips lightly brush across your cheek. You flickered your eyes open.

“Don’t you have more important things to do than watch me sit in a tub?” You asked your voice slightly on the raspy side. You moved your non-injured arm across your chest, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. He didn’t respond to your obvious jib at him and instead chose to continue to run his fingers across your cheek to your jaw, and then down your neck. You let out a sigh and then a groan when his lips brushed your shoulder.

“What I do with my time is my decision alone.” He drew out, running his lips further across your shoulder and then ever so lightly up your neck. You shivered against his lips, trying to fight off the desire for more. He was Endless, you were mortal. Nothing about him was obtainable. Nothing about you was good.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Your words were whispered as you stared at the ceiling.

“Then tell me to go,” Did he have a response for everything? Your tongue was thick, disabling you from an automatic response of: please leave. You tilted your head to finally look at him. Dark silver blue eyes met yours and you shuddered once more. You could see it in his eyes, he knew you wouldn’t be able to say it.

“Why can’t I kiss who I want? Why do you always interfere with my relationships?” You asked, pressing your lips together in slight frustration. “What am I not understanding?”

He was still for a few moments and you felt like he was staring into your soul. You still held his gaze, wanting, and needing, an answer to this madness. Then he started moving. Your back went rigid when you realized that his face was drawing near, and going taught, you fought against the slight moan that wanted to crawl from your throat as his lips brushed their way up your neck to the shell of your ear. You were sure he could feel you trembling.

“You’re mine, Y/N,” Your eyes widened and ever so slowly, you turned your head to look at him. Your faces were nearly a hair width apart and rather than heat, you felt coolness radiating from his skin. It was so hard not to stare at his lips so close to yours. Just one little shift and they would be on yours, just like they had been all those weeks ago.

Stop it, Y/N. Stop it.

It was another dilemma of mortality and who you were as a person. A mortal. A Burgess. A train wreck. Everything he should stay well away from. Your heart ached in your chest as you pulled away, retracting your body from him and his ethereal presence. Lowering your injured arm into the tub, you looked down at yourself solemnly. Misery surrounded you. It was as simple as that. It was hard not to jerk away when his fingers brushed against your cheek once more. Why was he being so damn gentle with you?

Something caught your eye. You raised your left arm and stared at your upper arm. Where you were supposed to have a set of scratches that had been plaguing you for weeks on end, was smooth skin. Dream. Your world twisted as you surged into a sitting position in the tub, the water now cool. You checked your arm, the scratches were still there. You had fallen asleep in the tub. Why was your mind still playing tricks on you? You let out a frustrated scream and buried your face in your hands.

Date Published: 9/19/22

Last Edit: 5/29/23

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#morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #dream the endless x reader #sandman x reader #the sandman netflix #lord morpheus #dream of the endless #dream the endless #morpheus #the sandman

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recurring-polynya · 1 year

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Renruki Week Day 6: Rukia’s Birthday

This is my favorite thing I wrote for this week.

Thanks to @substituted-shinigami for the beta-read and the suggestion about the lost-and-found. 😘

| ao3 | ff.net |

🍡 🎁 💕

“Oi! Oi, Rukia! Rukia, it’s me! Lemme in! C’mon, it’s cold out here!”

Rukia regarded Renji through her eyelashes as she slid open her window to let him in. “Maybe that’s what you get for climbing around the outside of the girls’ dormitory after the sun goes down.”

“I was waiting for your roommate to leave,” Renji excused as he clambered over the sill. His cheeks and the tip of his nose were bright red.

“You know she leaves for her dumb study group at quarter to seven,” Rukia chided. “And where’s the coat I got you?”

The Shin’ou dress code allowed for a special haori to be added to the uniform during the winter months--provided one could afford to purchase one of the damn things from the only shop in town authorized to embroider the school seal on the back. Rukia, a freethinker, had simply liberated a pair of them from the lost-and-found located at the rear of the mess hall.

She knew very well that Renji wouldn’t wear his because he considered it “stolen” (as if the rich kid who had lost it hadn’t just bought another right away), but he appeared to be biting his tongue on that point, for once. “I think that thing must have belonged to the largest student in Shin’ou history,” he complained instead. “No good for climbing.”

“I could get you another one,” Rukia shrugged. “I just figured with the way you’ve been growing lately, you would need it. Speaking of which, where have you been? You weren’t at dinner.”

“I had something to do.” Renji straightened up a little and cleared his throat. “Happy Birthday. Rukia.” He held his hands out in front of him to reveal a slightly crumbled, white pasteboard box.

Rukia’s eyes darted down at the box as she very slowly shut the window. “What is that?” she asked suspiciously.

“It’s your present!” Renji retorted. “Take it, already!”

“You better not have spent any money on me, Abarai Renji!” Rukia wound up. “It’s bad enough that you tested into that stupid advanced class so we had to buy two whole sets of school books, but--”

“Oh, shut your trap!” Renji cut her off. “One of the rich assholes down the hall from me came back from New Year’s break with some incredibly heavy furniture his parents wanted him to have, and he gave me some kan to help him haul it up to his room. What he’s gonna do with a whole-ass tea cabinet, I dunno, but that’s his problem. It’s my hard-earned money, and if I want to spend a small part of it doin’ something nice for you on your birthday for once…” he trailed off, his face suddenly going uncertain. “Just take it, wouldja? It’s hardly anything.”

Rukia took the box. It was slightly damp and sticky on the bottom. Carefully, she pulled open the lid. Inside was a skewer of five dango, swimming in a thick glaze of dark brown, mitarashi syrup. “Oh,” she said softly.

“We got that kind once, I think, coming up the South Road,” Renji, who never shut up, was saying. “District 3 or 4, was it? Anyway, I thought I remembered you liking ‘em.” They’d eaten a lot of things for the first time during the long journey up from Inuzuri, armed with a travel stipend from the District 70 Consolidated Shinigami Recruitment Station. Rukia honestly couldn’t recall eating anything she hadn’t liked.

“Mm,” she agreed noncommittally, trying to extract the skewer from its box. The congealed sauce clung stubbornly to the pasteboard. “Are we gonna split it?”

Renji scoffed and flung himself down in her roommate’s desk chair. “It’s your birthday present. All for you.”

“It’s really good,” Rukia insisted, after delicately biting off the top dango. “C’mon, open up! Just one!” She poked it at him.

“It’s yours!” Renji waved his hands defensively.

“It’s my birthday, and that means you should do whatever I tell you to!”

Renji narrowed his eyes. “I do not like where this is going. If I eat one, can we drop this topic?”

“Yes,” Rukia agreed, holding the skewer out to him. “It also means that you have to share all the birthday treats I buy for you on your birthday with me.”

Renji snorted softly. “Okay, fine. Deal.”

Rukia watched him latch one fangy canine onto a dango, and coolly draw it off the skewer before handing it back. Soul King forbid he touch something with his lips that she had. Rukia didn’t care. She’d gotten mostly used to the idea of regular meals, and the necessity thereof, given how hard the Academy worked them. Still, the idea of an after-dinner treat, eaten entirely as a celebration, seemed absolutely unreal.

“You did eat dinner, correct?” she asked sharply as Renji handed her treat back.

He nodded obediently. “Grabbed a bento from the mess.” He stuck out his jaw. “I was worried about getting to the sweet shop before they closed. I hadn’t actually been there before, but one of the upperclassmen gave me directions. You shoulda seen that place. Next time I get a windfall, I’m gonna take you. They had these things called ‘parfaits’. It’s a big glass full of fruit and custard and syrup. You could get them in all sorts of combinations. I wanted to get you one, but I knew there’s no way I could get one back here without making a giant mess of it.”

“You’re so ridiculous,” Rukia sighed, settling into her own desk chair across from him. She put her feet up on his knees, the pasteboard box balanced on her lap to catch any drips. “What do I need all that for? Save your money for something practical, like the new uniforms you’ll need when you outgrow yet another set.”

Renji was quiet for a long moment. “Was the dango okay?" he finally asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

Rukia squinted at him for a moment. At the rate she was stuffing it into her face, it seemed pretty obvious that it was just fine. Then she rewound the last bit of their conversation and realized what he was getting at. Oh, this insecure fool! “It was exactly the proper amount of ridiculous,” she announced. “It is also very delicious.” She paused. They had never been in the habit of using social niceties. If she and Renji had to thank each other for the things they did for one another, there wouldn’t be time for anything else in the day. On the other hand, Renji’s friends thanked each other for everything, and she’d heard him awkwardly trying to return the gesture. It probably wouldn’t kill her to give it a try. “Thank you,” she said, trying to force as much sincerity into her voice as possible and still not confident that he would buy it.

The corner of Renji’s mouth tipped up. “You’re welcome,” he replied softly. He folded his hands in his lap, but then reached out one index finger to poke her big toe. “You know what Momo said I should get you?” he said with a wry half smile.

“What?” Rukia asked, immediately suspicious.

“You remember all those pretty hair pins she had when we went to her house for New Year’s? Flowers and stuff? She loaned you one?”

“It was two weeks ago, of course I remember,” Rukia replied dryly.

“‘You should get her one, Renji,’ Momo told me. ‘Rukia should have something pretty of her own.’”

It was a good thing Rukia’s mouth was full of dango, because it covered the fact that her heart had abruptly stopped beating.

Maybe Momo had said that. It was perfectly possible. But whether or not she had, Renji wasn’t telling her this to make fun of Momo. He would never make fun of sweet, kindhearted Momo. He was telling her this because he thought she should have something pretty of her own. If he had just said so, Rukia would have been obligated to yell at him and no further information could be gained from that. No, he wanted her to know, and he also wanted to know how she would feel if he did something like that. Rukia felt her cheeks growing warm. How dare he be so direct with her, on her own birthday, no less!

“What would I do with such a thing?” she finally muttered. “That Momo, always getting ahead of herself. I don’t even own a decent kimono to wear it with.”

“Mm,” Renji nodded in agreement. “True.” He stretched his arms behind his head. “You will someday, though. When we’re both in the Court Guards and have plenty of money.”

Rukia sucked a bit of the sweet, salty syrup off of her pinky. In ordinary circumstances, she would drop it. Change the subject. She liked to think of herself as a practical girl, a girl who lived in the moment. A girl who didn’t bother over things she couldn’t have. But it was her birthday, and Renji had done something delightfully impractical just for her, so perhaps she could indulge in a tiny bit of wanting. After all, he had basically asked.

“What I could really use,” she explained, pushing her hair back toward her temples, “is a pair of those clippy things that Hinamori’s roommate wears. To keep my hair out of my face.”

Renji frowned, trying to remember. “They’re shaped like little birds or something?”

“I think she has a bunch of them,” Rukia sputtered, not wanting to imply that she spent too much time staring at Momo’s roommate, who was very cute. “I’m sure they make plain ones, too.”

“Noted,” Renji said, with a curt jerk of his chin.

“You know. If there is some gift-giving occasion at some future date,” Rukia quickly amended. She picked up her dango skewer again and waved it at him. “This was a very nice birthday gift and I am very happy with it!”

“I’m very glad,” he replied.

Rukia started to bite off another dango, but paused. “The visit has been nice, too. Haven’t seen too much of you lately. Sometimes I think you’re going to forget about me, between your nerd classes and side hustles and vibrant social life.”

Renji laughed. “You know that would never happen.”

Rukia stuffed a dango in her mouth and smiled at him as she chewed it. “Yeah,” she replied. “I know.”

---

A few years later. About forty or so.

“It’s bullshit that you have to leave my birthday party early,” Rukia informed Renji, piling three strawberry daifuku onto his plate. “Take some of these, they’re really good.”

“I’m real sorry, but we’ve got a big patrol coming in from a rough time, and I told your brother I’d do the check-in so he didn’t have to leave your party.”

“You’re too nice,” Rukia grumped, trying to wedge a cream puff onto the already overloaded plate.

Renji snorted. “We’re going out tomorrow, anyway. I’m gonna let you drink me under the table and beat me at arm wrestling, right? That’s the party that counts.”

“I suppose.”

“I’m just glad I got to stop in at all,” Renji admitted. He glanced around at the room full of two hundred of Byakuya’s closest friends. “Not really my crowd, y’know?” Slowly, his eyes slipped down the length of her body. “I am glad I got to see you in that kimono.” The corner of his mouth tipped up. “You look real pretty. Rukia.”

Rukia’s cheeks flushed. “It was a birthday present. From Brother.” She flapped the sleeves at him, long enough to trail on the floor. It was a rich blue, embroidered with cranes perched amid snow-covered pines. “This thing is ridiculous. Who could fight in these sleeves?”

“There’s no Kuchiki special technique for that?” Renji arched an eyebrow. “Fighting in the most impractical clothes imaginable and making it look easy?”

He had a point. “I’m still working on that one,” she grouched.

“New hairpin, too?” Renji asked, glancing at the white-feathered crane holding the twist of hair up on one side of her head. “It matches real nice, in any case.”

“Er, yeah,” Rukia admitted, not sure why she felt so shy about it. “He’s…he’s trying, you know? And gifts are something he’s good at.”

Renji smiled at her, his eyes soft. “He is. And even I gotta admit: the man’s got great taste. Look, I gotta bounce.” He glanced down at the towering plate of desserts balanced in his hand. “Thanks, uh, for…this. Should last me through the first half of the shift, at least.”

“Do not give any to those assholes coming back from patrol, no matter how bedraggled they look,” Rukia warned him. “I know what a soft touch you are.”

Renji’s eyes darted down to his mountain of sugar and back up again. “Okay, Rukia,” he lied amiably. “Enjoy the rest of your party. Happy Birthday.” With his free hand, he gave her a good natured thump on the arm, but then suddenly trailed his hand down the length of her sleeve. On some ancient, nearly forgotten con artist instinct, Rukia twisted her hand outward just in time for him to press some small object into her palm, which she immediately pulled up into her voluminous sleeve. “See ya tomorrow.”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” she agreed.

Immediately after Renji departed, she got accosted by the young Noragashi Heir, whose compliments for her new outfit were better phrased, but worse received. It wasn’t for several more hours, until her maid was helping extract her from layers of silk and cotton that she remembered the little paper packet tucked in the sleeve.

If Renji had been trying to be surreptitious, he probably shouldn’t have drawn a screaming Zabimaru head on the wrapping, Rukia decided, after Mikan had finally departed for the evening. It took her a moment to undo the elaborate folding job he’d done on the paper (how he managed, with his giant fingers, she had no idea). Inside, was a little piece of cardstock, with two metal barrettes clipped to it. Each one was decorated with a leaping bunny rabbit-- just the right size to add a little visual interest without being obtrusive. They weren’t delicate or fancy, and in fact, it took Rukia a moment to place the artisan’s mark on the card as a blacksmith in the first district of South Rukongai that Renji liked.

Rukia ran her fingers through her hair, and swept the annoying piece that always hung in her eyes to one side, and secured it with one clip. She shook her head a little, and to her surprise, it stayed. She clipped the second onto the other side, and examined herself in the mirror. She looked mildly silly, but they would certainly keep her hair out of her face while she was leaning over her paperwork.

“Not bad, Abarai,” Rukia murmured, turning her head so she could admire every angle. “This is exactly what I wanted.”

#renrukiweek #renrukiweek2023 #renruki #my writing

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didiwaffles · 5 months

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good lore, good lore.. i absolutely adore multiverses and immortals having arguments that last millions of years! this is so awesome

now that i know who devi is, i want to circle back and ask a bit more about eva

what were her lives before rebirth? how was she even made? what powers did she have?

thanks you for answering my silly questions about your characters 🙏

- void anon

It's such a pleasure to me I can do it all day if you let me

Actually, we do not need to circle back for that, we can just move forward from where I stopped the last time. Before we move on to Eva, I need to establish a few things that led to her birth.

There's a few things that happened in about a few hundred thousands to a million of years between the moment the Monster was sealed and when Devi left Afiar.

As I mentioned, she created 5 Elemental Spirits who went on to restore the world.

Amenir - the Spirit of Air - created a flying castle made of air for Devi.

Devi resqued Emi - a girl who lost everyone she ever knew as well as everyone of her race to the Monster's awakening.

Next few hundred years Emi spent in a hybernation, after which she went on to restore her kind and with time created an army of soldiers devoted to serving Devi. (Not like Devi was a huge fan of that at first, but she let Emi and the others do whatever they wanted.)

Devi made continuous efforts to change Darinir's mind about herself, but it was in vain.

Whenever she could, she spent her time helping people in need, protecting the weak, and fighting off anyone who posed a threat.

The rest of the time she spent on her own, with time creating two other Spirits - Rudy (the Spirit of Time - or rather a tiny fluffy fox squirrel) and Nirali (the Spirit of Art and everything that falls under the category of talent and inspiration) to keep her company. They will become the closest to her, and will remain by her side even when she will have many other friends in the future.

With time, Devi became quite bored of this routine. So she thought of something fun to do. Since she didn't remember ever having a childhood, she wanted to experience that for herself. She didn't consult anyone on that - not her mother, not her enemies, not her children. She just put Emi before the fact - she was going to be reborn as a human child in some other world. She took Nirali with her, merging their souls together so she'd always be by Devi's side, while left Rudy behind. It wasn't meant to take long. After all she intended to come back once she was 20 or something.

Thousands of years passed. She never returned. Everyone looked for her, but she was nowhere to be found.

Obviously something went wrong.

In the preparation to be reborn, Devi left her body and her soul traveled around the universe, in search of a good place to reborn in. Now, remember I mentioned that a piece of Afiar that flew out when the Monster awakened would form into a separate world that would go on to create an anomaly zone? Devi accidentally flew by and got caught up in it. It did quite a few things.

First, it suppressed her power. She was no longer in control of what was happening.

Then, when she was trying to fight it, her mind fractured and split her personality into 3 parts. One was the "Devi of Light" (I'm using such a wording intentionally, she's not the "good" and the other one is not the "bad" Devi, that matters), Rodari, who inherited Devi's wings, which became white with her. The other one was the "Devi of Darkness", Diano, who took the crack from Devi's eye. The third one was Devi herself, what was left of her.

As the result, she lost her memories once again.

As she was reborn, luckily to Devi, everyone inside of her - Diano, Rodari, the Monster, and even Nirali - were put into slumber. Nirali would wake up rather quickly though, but would realize she's trapped inside of Devi's mind, who didn't remember anything and was just like an actual human child.

As Devi grew up, she would often end up creating fantasies in her head. Between toxic family relationships, having no friends, and stressful school stuff, it was her only gateway. There was only one problem. The anomaly did drain all the magic it came in contact with, but what it also did was it made the fantasy of people inside the world affect the rest of the universe. Characters from the books were coming alive in a newly born world somewhere far away, far from the reach of its creator. But that was even more true for Devi. Because even though she lost her memory, she didn't lose her power, and even though it was constantly drained, that wasn't enough to rid of it completely. And the fact that Devi didn't know it existed didn't mean she wasn't using it unconsciously. So, unbeknownst to her, her fantasies were affecting the entire universe. Everything she were thinking about was coming true outside the anomaly. And not only did she affect the future, she also affected the past. She created the fates of people... who she already met. But she didn't remember them. I'm talking about Ula and Lana. She crafted a story of their lives... that she already knew. Just didn't remember. But those two weren't the only ones. There were 7 people she affected directly, and many more - indirectly. One of those 7 was Riam.

I already went on a big enough of a tangent, so I will skip laying out Devi and Riam's relationship. What matters is Devi heavily influenced his very existence, but some stuff remain hidden even from her. Eventually, she got caught up in her own fantasies so badly, that she completely fell in love with her own mind's creation - that is to say, Riam. So one evening when she was especially lonely, she unconsciously completely overpowered the anomaly and just teleported Riam to herself.

Again I will not go into the details of their relationships now, what matters is they fell in love, and after figuring out that finding out how to get out of the world they both ended in might take a bit, they eventually married. And during their honeymoon, Devi got pregnant.

That's how Eva was born.

Now, I will shift to her story.

When Eva was born, Nirali - who was practically her older sister - planted a kiss on her forehead. Being the Spirit, what that did was it blessed Eva with extraordinary talent. Combined with her father's genes, Eva developed extremely quickly. By one year old she could already read with no problems, and by three she could solve simple math problems. When she went to school, she was far ahead of her peers, and what ended up happening is that she would be let to do whatever she wanted in class, as long as she aced all her tests. And of course she did. Devi also made sure Eva had several tutors who would teach her in accordance to her level of development. Once Eva was a bit older, she agreed that it was better than shoving her in the higher grades with more grown up kids or depriving her of socialization by tutoring her at home. As for changing schools into a more advanced one, Devi debated doing that... But there was one slight problem with that.

When Eva was 6, she got two twin little brothers.

As they were growing up, they looked and acted absolutely identical to each other. Even their own parents couldn't tell them apart when they were in matching closes. For some reason, Eva was the only one who could always tell them apart. Consequentially, she was the only one that could put a stop on their twin antics.

But fast forward to the time Eva would go on to graduate. Even though no one doubted her ability to ace the final exam, that was still pretty stressful, and the stress only multiplied with what was happening at home.

After almost 20 years of searching and trying everything she could even think of, Devi finally was able to create a portal out of the world they were in. Funnily enough, it came to her in a dream. She tried her best to replicate it, but she must've messed it up in several places because the portal barely opened. But that was enough for something to grab Riam and shove him inside, after which it closed immediately. At first Devi was incredibly happy. She tried to achieve that for so long! But slowly her happiness faded as she came to the realization, "...But what about me..?"

Devi quickly spiraled down into a deep depression, and Eva had to choose between staying by her side to help her through it and preparing for her own exams, while also taking care of her brothers. But she managed through it and successfully passed her final exam. And when she came back to share the news...

Devi's pain was so unbearable that she unconsciously tore through the fabric of reality, completely overpowering the anomaly, and creating a portal. But when the answer was right before her, she hesitated. She couldn't just go in and leave her children behind. At the same time, they had their own lives and aspirations, Eva was almost an adult, with Paul and Pete already being teens. Forcing them down the path she wanted to go didn't feel right either. But they still needed to be taken care of, she couldn't just abandon them. But she couldn't stay either, not when she had that chance, she would go on to regret it for the rest of her life.

That's where Eva found her when she returned home. And she didn't need any words to understand what was going on. Then, she encouraged Devi to leave them and go, promising that she'll take care of the boys, and when they will be ready, they will somehow find a way to find her. She didn't really think that far ahead, she just knew that if her mom stayed, she'd be deeply unhappy. Devi didn't have time to think for too long, and just before the portal closed, she went into it.

But the task that Eva assumed upon herself was not an easy one. By then, the twins who used to be indistinguishable started showing signs of separating into two completely different people, and losing both of their parents made them develop completely different personalities.

Much like Eva, Paul understood mother's decision. He trusted both Devi and Eva with their decisions. But Pete... He didn't take it well at all. He was angry. Angry that his parents abandoned him, and he vented his frustration on none other than Eva. He criticized her cooking, comparing to how Devi used to do it, he criticized her for not having a job, despite them not having problems with money, criticized her for not cleaning the house. Eva understood his frustration so she didn't stop him, but Paul wasn't taking that, and the two of them were constantly fighting over everything now. But Paul understood that Eva also wasn't all that happy that Devi left, and with the university she just got in on top of that, the last thing she needed was chores and quarrels at home. He tried to do everything he could, but Pete was just making everything more difficult than it needed to be.

That went on until both boys hit 15. By then, both of them knew what they wanted to do in life. Pete has decided to be a professional musician, and as soon as he could, he left to study in the music college, making sure he let it be known that he doesn't want anything to do with his family anymore. By that time Eva went on to study for her future master's degree in chemistry. As for Paul, he had an obsession of his own. All he wanted was to protect Eva. So he went on his own path, going to the military academy.

Now that I laid out the kinda dynamic the three have and what they've been doing with their lives, I'll quickly go through the rest that happened there.

Eva graduated with the master's degree in chemistry, and went on to own her own lab where she started working on finding something that could create a portal so they could reunite with their parents.

Paul graduated the college and went on to serve in the military.

After that he went on to the military university and studied there in the air force department.

Sometimes they would do street patrols, and in one of such days Paul happened to pass by Eva's lab. He immediately noticed something was wrong. By a pure coincidence, exactly at the time he was passing through there, something went array in the lab, and just a moment after Paul thought something was off, there was a massive explosion. Eva was inside.

By an order of their captain, cadets helped evacuate people, but Paul was concerned since he couldn't find Eva. Eventually the fire got too strong, and Paul disobeyed orders completely and went inside.

Eva made sure everyone was evacuated, but by that time she inhaled too much toxins and passed out in the fire. Paul got to her in time to grab her and jump out of the window before there was another massive explosion that would've killed them both.

They both were sent to ER. Paul suffered from mild intoxication, light burns, and he also sprained his ankle when landing. Eva suffered much more heavily. She fell into a coma.

For more than a year Eva remained unconscious, and Paul made sure to stay by her side at all cost. His studying was paused for as long as he needed. Eventually, Eva woke up. Paul held a huge grudge against Pete for not showing up even once.

Paul would go on to finish the university, and Eva continued working on her research. They barely saw each other, and as soon as Paul graduated he was mobilized as a war broke right about that time.

He went on to pilot a fighter jet on the front lines, and nearly died. His body was never found, and he was declared missing.

Eva was going crazy worrying about him, while Pete as always showed miracles of compassion and care, just shy of celebrating his brother's death.

Paul survived though and returned home on his own two. He would be later awarded a medal since his feat practically turned the tide of the war.

Once the war was over, Paul didn't retire, instead he went on to be Eva's personal bodyguard. He ensured the lab's safety and protected her when she was awarded for her achievements in the field of chemistry.

Eventually, she achieved her goal. She created an essence that could turn a mirror into a portal. She couldn't control the destination, but it could bypass the anomaly's borders, and they could figure it out from there. Pete refused to go with them, but Eva left an extra bottle of that essence for him if he ever changed his mind.

From then on, Eva and Paul quickly reunited with Devi, and found out it's been many thousand years for her. At that point in time, Devi still hadn't recovered her memory, but she was already pretty strong.

A whole new world was open before them. For Paul it was simple - she went wherever Eva went. And Eva went everywhere - she wanted to try everything. Eventually she settled on two things. First, she became a succubus. And second, she became obsessed with fighting. She used to fight as a child, and seeing her mom being strong and beautiful, she wanted to be just as strong as her.

Eva made good progress, quickly becoming third strongest person in the universe - right after her parents (though it's questionable who made that list to begin with.) And then it happened.

As I mentioned before, Devi had a lot on her shoulders. Not remembering her past, she already defeated one enemy, and another one showed up right after, and she didn't even know why they were so determined to kill her. The truth was those two were sent after her... by her own mother.

Anorava gave them a fraction of her power and wanted one thing in exchange - find Devi and do anything they had to but restore her memories. But Darkness was a wicked power, and given to those who were too weak, it corrupted their minds. And Alphonse completely forgot what was the reason he was fighting Devi - but unable to overpower her it seeded a deep hatred for her in his heart.

Alas, Devi was oblivious to this. She was just tired. She already suffered one heartbreak, and another one that shattered her soul in pieces completely, and she barely was able to recover. She thought that if Alphonse was so determined to kill her then if she died he'll rest easy. So she left the protection of the universe to Eva, and went to Heavens.

First of all, she got bored really quickly there. She did have her rest, but quickly realized that she would absolutely dread spending an eternity there.

But that was the least of her problems. Because there was someone who really didn't like her being dead, aside from her friends.

Eva thought she was ready to face any opponent, but she was absolutely unprepared for how wicked and insane Alphonse was. He didn't want Devi dead. No, he wanted to kill her. And surely Devi will come back if he hurts something really precious to her. And he knew nothing was more precious to her than her family.

All he did was he burned Eva's eyes out. Completely. Along with her eyelids. The pain was so agonizing that Eva's own scream ruptured her eardrums, and after a while she lost her voice too. She would regain her voice eventually, but never - ears and eyes. And as if that wasn't enough, he branded Eva's soul. That way, even if she somehow managed to restore her eyes, she was destined to lose them. Again, and again, and again. No matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried, she could return her speech, even her ears - with enough miracle - but never her eyes. Not for long at least.

To say that Devi was mad - to say nothing. She was furious, and also hurt. She would never stop blaming herself for what happened to Eva. And she was incredibly angry. Alphonse achieved his goal - Devi returned to the world of the living. But contrary to his expectations she didn't go on to fight him - first thing she did was making sure Eva wasn't going to do anything to herself.

When all that happened, Eva was left completely alone in the darkness. Saw nothing, heard nothing, only felt pain. Wanted to cry but tears wouldn't come out. She even forgot there was an enemy in front of her - not like he cared about her at all.

But soon enough she felt first touch. Someone grabbed her by the shoulders and slightly shook. She instinctively recoiled, and the touch stopped. Recognized it clearly wasn't an enemy, she reached forward and grabbed the shirt. Big warm hand gently laid over her hand. She skimmed through everyone she knew to figure out who that hand belong to. Figured out it can't be anyone but Paul, she relaxed.

Only when she lost her most important senses did she truly come to appreciate how much Paul cared about her. He carried her home, treated her injuries, applied bandages, and held her hand as she fell asleep. In the situation where she lost everything - he was the sunshine in the complete darkness that she needed to not give up completely. And then Devi came right into her mind, making her feel like the world around her still existed, like it was not all destroyed when she lost her senses.

Devi made sure Eva was still mentally stable, and went on helping her learn how to stop relying on her eyes and ears to live. Not like Devi knew how to. She had to bullshit her way through it, learning herself as she went. Because she knew that if she doesn't, she might lose Eva.

Thanks to her efforts, pretty quickly Eva became much more aware of her surroundings. She became more sensitive to smells, vibrations, and touch. The latter was also making her feel pain more strongly. Her voice slowly returned, a bit hoarse, but she could speak, though couldn't hear herself. Gradually she learned to identify the energy flow around her and translate it into a complete picture inside her head. And in next millions of years of practice she would even go as far as to be able to decipher the sound vibrations and understand speech without actually hearing it. Being forced in such a situation made her a true master of "seeing without eyes, hearing without ears", even Devi could not reach her level of mastery.

Devi tried everything she could to return Eva's eyes and ears. And if with ears it went well, Eva always lost her eyes, one way or another, no matter what, and then always decided to rid of ears to, just because she was used to get by without both. But no matter how much times she said that that's how she prefers it, deep inside she knew she wanted to be able to see. Even if the truth was that without eyes and ears she was stronger than with them, she was willing to trade that for the ability to see her mother, her brother... and of course, her son.

But that was not all. Because even after Alphonse was defeated and gone seemingly forever, he kept living in Devi's, and especially so in Eva's nightmares.

#i hope you know i'm not spell-checking all this oh my god #this is my 50-page essay on why my girls are best girls and need to be protected at all cost #thank you for coming to my ted talk ig #i think you can guess why it took me a while #literally didn't even include stuff that is not necessary for the context #if you gonna ask about riam next i hope you're prepared for an even bigger one #ask #void anon #scope for fantasy #devi #eva #paul #pete #oc #oc backstory

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unholyhelbig · 2 years

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Ronancetober Day #8: Ronance Anthem

[A/N: If you haven't listened to Noah Kahan's Stick Season yet, do yourself a favor and please do!]

Read on AO3

Summary: Based on the song "Stick Season" by Noah Kahan, Robin returns to Hawkins years after Nancy broke her heart. While visiting her family for the holidays she runs into a familiar face.

The lights in the grocery store hummed like a fly trapped against a windowpane. Robin Buckley didn’t know if it was the hangover she struggled to nurse, or the stretching aisles of identical marketing that amplified them. She had briefly forgotten why she came into the market in the first place, holding a weighty can of soup with a non-descript label for an unnaturally long time.

She hadn’t been back in Hawkins Indiana for years, and after stopping at the closest bar to the airport and drowning her sorrows about the fact, and sleeping off her habits in a local two-story motel, she decided to feed her body in some way. Soup would stay down, or at least she thought it would.

Finally, Robin had caved to her mother’s invitation to come back home for the holidays. The past two Thanksgivings were spent alone, and the ones before that her father had driven to San Francisco to make reservations at a fancy restaurant. It consisted for two hours of awkward conversation before he would sleep on her pull-out couch and leave the next morning. Her mother never had the heart to make the trip.

It was time for Robin to go back to the sleepy town, her old stomping ground, and concede to forced family bonding. She hadn’t taken up the offer to stay in her old room, much to her mother’s dismay.

Truthfully, Robin wanted to forget everything about Hawkins. Keep the open wounds sealed up with sloppy stitches. That included the Ramone’s posters slapped up on her wall, and the fish tank that now sat empty, a ring of sediment where the water used to reach.

Robin snapped back to herself when she turned and ran straight into someone in the aisle. Cans of soup mixed with cans of cranberries. She and another woman rushed to pick them up, scrambling out apologies at the same time, overlapping one another but getting the sentiment.

“I really should watch where I’m going,” The woman said, straightening up.

Robin recognized those eyes. Though older, and dimmer with age, they still held a certain edge of careful care. However, there was no recognition behind them, not at first. She stacked her canned cranberry, pushing the heavy-framed glasses to the bridge of her nose.

“No, no it was me,” Robin said, lilting her head to the side with caution. “Mrs. Wheeler?”

She laughed humorlessly, finally scrutinizing Robin “Mrs. Wheeler, no one has called me that since… Oh, drat, you’re the Buckley girl. Robin.”

A smile broke across her face as she apologized again, and this time pulled Robin into an awkward hug where they sandwiched the canned items in between them. She still smelled warm, like pumpkin spice and kitchen cleaner.

“My word, it’s been so long. Are you still working for that computer company out West? I haven’t seen your mother since, well, it’s been years.”

Robin nodded, turning the can of soup over in her hand. It had started as something out of a friend's garage and had grown to one of the top coding platforms in the new age of the internet. Big modems and black screens with millions of numbers. It was like a puzzle: a puzzle her parents didn't understand. Most of the world didn’t understand either. But Robin had put her faith in it, slept on a rickety couch in her boss’s garage before he had enough money to not only get an office space but an apartment above it for her to live in.

“I am, Holly just graduated high school, didn't she?”

“Quick at math, as always. She did. Gosh, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you, kids. Funny, isn’t it? Nancy and Mike finally made the trip home this year too.”

Robin got hit with a sudden wave of nausea that could be from the shitty Rolling Rock beer that she had downed the night before, the corn nuts that settled right at the base of her stomach. But more than anything, she knew it was at the mention of Nancy’s name. Seeing Karen was shocking enough.

“Is that so?”

“Oh yes!” She pushed her glasses back up to the bridge of her nose. “We’re having a get-together tonight, as a matter of fact. Forgot the cranberries. You should stop by.”

“I don’t know if that’s such-“

“Mike and Nancy will be so happy to see you! You remember where the house is, don’t you dear?”

How could Robin forget? She remembers the sweet musky smell of the basement, the lights that were always strung across old brown paneling. There was a warmth to Nancy Wheeler’s high school bedroom, a wire frame, and a pink bedspread that she would often settle under. They’d laugh, breath mingling, hair falling into gazes.

Robin whispered out “Yes ma’am.”

“Perfect! We’ll see you at eight.”

Robin nodded, dry-mouthed and stunned. She didn’t much feel like soup anymore and she watched as Karen gave her a kind wave and went along her way. There was no malice in the interaction. None at all. Karen Wheeler had been oblivious to the relationship that Robin had shared with her daughter.

Nor did she know about the conversation they had in the Station Wagon just days before Nancy went to Emerson, and Robin resigned to the fact that they had passed her exit that night for a reason.

She should have eaten something to calm her nerves, but instead, she stopped at the nearest liquor store (honestly, the only liquor store) that Hawkins had to offer. She had picked up a good bottle of brandy because she knew that Ted Wheeler was a fan.

Nancy had broken the lock off the liquor cabinet the first night after the earthquake that ripped apart the town their senior year. They had gotten drunk off the greenish liquid. It burned Robin’s throat and her stomach, but she liked the way it tasted against Nancy’s lips.

Robin had the glass bottle tucked against her side when she knocked on the door and held her breath, counting the seconds before it swung open, and warmth hit her like a ton of bricks. The Wheeler house smelled slightly spiced for the holiday, and Robin took her time before looking at the person who stood across the threshold.

Mike Wheeler was still lanky but somehow had sprouted another few inches. He had a serious look on his face that reminded Robin again of the liquor cabinet and the stern talking to she had received from Ted Wheeler, still woozy and free.

“Please tell me that’s the good stuff,” he said, voice deeper than she remembers.

“The best money can buy.”

Mike pulled her into an unexpected hug. His hair was shaggy, stubble scratching Robin’s face. She had never been close to Nancy’s kid brother, but she had stood with him on multiple occasions. He had walked in on her and Nancy when they were younger and dutifully kept the secret, too. That meant that he was okay in Robins's book, despite swiping the brandy upon their broken hug.

“Did you pre-game?” Mike asked.

“Oh, you have no idea how much I wanted to. Your mom really laid on the charm and the guilt. It’s a talent.”

“Why do you think I flew in from Florida? You could pry those white sand beaches from my cold dead hands before you caught me dead back in Hawkins in the middle of winter.”

Robin had heard that Mike took a path less desired from a father’s standpoint. He had graduated college but abandoned the degree the second he took a cross-country trip to the east coast. He fell hard and fast for the waves and ended up opening his own spear-fishing business in the gulf of Florida. Or at least, that’s what Robin had heard. His dark tan seemed to support this rumor.

“Michael, who was at the door?” Karen’s voice flitted from the kitchen, the warmest place in the house.

He lifted his eyebrows and lead Robin through the familiar paneled hallway into the kitchen. Karen wore a velvet red dress that matched the cans of cranberry she had picked up from the store earlier. Her makeup was impeccable. Holly sat at the kitchen table, hunched over a notebook with her blonde hair falling into her eyes.

Karen clapped her hands together “Robin!”

“Jesus’ mom!” Holly gasped, turning to face she and Mike.

There was no recognition in her eyes, and Robin didn’t expect there to be any. She was merely six when Robin first started showing her face in the Wheeler home. Still, she smiled and gave a nervous wave that Robin returned. Her heart was in her throat and her stomach was in her ass, and the anticipation of seeing Nancy Wheeler ebbed at the back of her mind.

“Nancy is out back,” Mike whispered to her as he placed the bottle of bourbon on the counter.

She hugged Karen Wheeler again and excused herself to the backyard. Snow had barely begun to fall, her breath clouding each time it passed her lips. There was the scent of the bonfire a few houses down and the last crickets of the season sang their song.

Robin could hear the creaking of the swing set that was in the Wheeler's backyard, the chains having rusted. Robin shivered into herself and shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket. She made us much noise against the gravel as she could.

Nancy had her head down, hands in her lap as she used the tip of her boot to shift her on the swing, back and forth, nothing dramatic. A pile of cut logs rested against the fence line behind her. She looked up at the sound of footsteps.

Robin had had crushes before. On Tammy Thompson and Vickie Richardson from band. Those started in the center of her soul and spread to her fingertips. But it was hard to forget the first love of your life, the girl who started at your fingertips and thawed your soul. Nancy Wheeler had been that love that split her in two.

Now she sat, staring at Robin with moon-stained eyes. She made Robin’s heart pound harder. There was a paleness to her complexion, a beauty to the curls that carried at her shoulders. She had on a jean jacket that probably didn’t’ warm her one bit. Her nose was raw, and red.

“My mom told me you were going to stop by.” She said.

Her voice was raspy as if she had just had a cold. As if she had been crying. Robin didn’t know which one it was. She walked closer and lowered herself into the swing next to Nancy. They sat in silence for a few moments.

“I should have asked you first.”

Nancy smiled “I know how she can get. You probably couldn’t get a word in edgewise.”

That smile sent chills down Robin's spine. She felt an ache at the sides of both of her legs were hitting the swing. She wasn’t as young as she used to be, and wasn’t meant to sit on a green plastic swing.

“What have you been up to?” Robin asked.

She knew what Nancy Wheeler had been up to. She had consistent contact with Steve Harrington, who had since gotten out of Hawkins himself. He lived in the same city as Nancy. New York was massive and intimidating and her boss wanted to open up a branch of the company there, but she shot him down in fear that she would see Nancy among the million other faces that roamed the streets.

It made more sense for Robin to meet Nancy here, back where everything started. Back where the rain fell consistently, and the only thing to do out here was drink in the convenience store parking lot.

“Rob, we can skip the small talk.”

“It’s better than no talk at all.” She shook her head, dug the front of her boot into the frozen dirt. “It’s been years. I… I didn’t expect you to call, or write, or visit but,”

“But I should have.”

The sentence hung in the air between them. Nancy had broken Robin’s heart into a million pieces as she sat in the passenger side of the station wagon. She had cried before she said anything, cheeks wet. Nancy had kept driving, saying the words without looking at Robin.

It was easier that way, she was sure. But Robin felt trapped. They were going to opposite sides of the coast, learning, and growing and it just made sense to leave small-town relationships right where they belonged.

Nancy was right; Robin had gone off to college and met Noah and he started the company that she worked at today. She discovered the variety of dorm rooms, and briefly a sorority. She had a couple of long-term relationships and even more short-term ones. None of them captured her heart like Nancy, and none of them broke her heart in the same manner.

Robin liked to think that with time came healing. But she still went fifteen blocks out of her way every morning to get stale coffee and a copy of the New York Times from the only place that sold it. She still read every single word that Nancy Wheeler wrote, and swiped her finger across the fresh ink as if the black impression brought her closer to the girl she had loved as a teenager.

“You’re working at a start-up that they think is going to change the world of technology.”

Robin brought her eyebrows together in concern, she stared at Nancy who stared ahead at the fat flakes that fell from the black sky.

“A coder. I never figured you for computer science but I’m glad that you fell into it. I have a feeling that the internet isn’t going anywhere, anytime soon. You live in a duplex that you’re renovating, and you have a dog named Pretzel, very cute, by the way.”

“You’ve been keeping tabs on me.”

“As have you.”

Robin swallowed hard and nodded. “Last I heard you were engaged, living on park avenue. No dogs, but two cats.”

“Was engaged. It’s his apartment on Park, so I am back in Brooklyn. I only got to keep one of the cats and Starsky misses Hutch.” Nancy laughed and a stream of smoke came from her lips, encircling her head before it dissipated into the air among the snow.

This was news. She would have to berate Steve later for skipping the information. Part of Robin, deep down, knew that she would hop on a plane and get down on one knee just to make sure Nancy Wheeler never left her life again.

“What a pair we are.” Robin shoved back on the swing, “You always have these big ideas about coming back to where you grew up, but sometimes things don’t work out the way we planned.”

“My plan made me lose the best thing in my life.” Nancy murmured softly, “and if I could, I would turn back time and apologize.”

Robin gasped dramatically “I think an apology would be wasted on Hutch.”

Nancy scoffed and punched Robin in the arm. She had a mean right hook, and Robin didn’t’ expect anything less. “Ow, Wheeler! Keep your hands to yourself.”

They smiled at each other. The tension that had been building for years wasn’t entirely erased. But it was thawing, little by little. Nancy’s little smile sent shockwaves through Robin. She figured that avoiding Nancy during the holidays would be a task that she dreaded. But after being invited here, after being in the warmth of her presence, it all came rushing back.

“Girls!” Karen Wheeler stuck her head out the back door. “You’re going to freeze out here!”

“Coming, mom!” Nancy called back, narrowing her eyes at Robin. “I’ll race you, Birdie.”

“Oh, prepare to eat your words, Wheeler.”

#robin buckley #nancy wheeler #Ronancetober #Ronancetober Day 8 #Ronance #Stranger things #Stranger things fanfiction

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dcvilgrams · 9 months

Note

DO THEM ALL!!! unless like you actually don't want to and then do 🕸 and 💀

since this lovely person really did ask me to do them all... under the cut you can find them~

obey me mc ask game | my ask

😈: WHO IS YOUR FAVORITE BROTHER?

【post season 1; demon!Xhura】

"I―how―wha―I can't just choose a favorite! They're all my brothers and I love them all equally in their own unique ways for their own unique reasons! Pssht... asking me to pick a favorite... that's just cruel.

"But I guess if I have to give some kind of answer, Asmodeus was the first one I really thought of as my brother. He's been with me since day one and I'm so grateful for everything he's done for me."

👻: WHAT RACE ARE YOU? HUMAN?

【season 1; human!Xhura】

"Well... the position was asking for a human exchange student to attend RAD so... no shit, Sherlock? I don't really know what to say to that."

【post season 1; demon!Xhura】

"O-kay― so technically I was born human, yes. And I attended RAD through the exchange program as a human student. But... okay... so here's what happened, try and keep up.

"Lord Diavolo had Barbatos send me back in time so I could figure out how Belphie managed to combine my three pacts with Asmo, Levi, and Satan with Ayla's two pacts with Mammon and Beel in order to escape the attic. But when I found him he... well, he killed me. These things happen. Barbatos brought me back by making the reality where I lived the real reality, and so it was like it never happened.

"Except it did. I remembered all of it―dying, going back in time, everything that Barbatos said I should have eventually forgotten. And then I started having these... these episodes. Where it's like I was conscious, but I was trapped in my body. It was terrifying to say the fucking least.

"So it turns out something just... went wrong with sealing off the other reality―you know, the one where I kicked the bucket. And so my body would be into these episodes where I was basically living in my own corpse; like my body and my soul couldn't decide which reality I belonged to. Luckily, Barbatos found a way to fix that. I just needed to access enough of his reality-altering powers to actively choose to stay in the reality where I lived. And, y'know, there's only one way to access that much of a demon's power...

"So one pact and 88% of my soul sold off later, everything seemed peachy! Except... a-ha... turns out I tapped into too much reality-altering power. Enough that when combined with my fear of having to leave the Devildom and my unconscious desire to belong with the brothers... I kinda... turned myself into a demon?

"Ta..........da........?"

🔮: DO YOU POSSESS MAGIC?

【season 1; human!Xhura】

"Much to literally everyone's surprise... yeah? Like I fully expected to walk into that Spells Placement Exam and see myself out without being asked but nope. Turns out conjuring even a tiny ball of flame in your hand still counts as bona-fide magic."

🖤: WHICH OF THE SINS DO YOU ALIGN WITH?

answered here

[needle]: DO YOU BELIEVE IN FATE?

【post season 1; demon!Xhura】

"Absolutely. And I believe that everything that happens is a part of it―every harsh word, every bad day, every terrible choice is all mean to lead us to where we're supposed to be.

"Take me for example. Yes I suffered through years of addiction and recovery, but it made me stronger, and wiser, and led to me signing up for the RAD program―which led to being murdered by Belphie, which led to my pact with Barbatos―all of which led to me becoming the demon I was meant to be, marrying my soulmate Lucifer, living every day with a family who truly loves me.

"I do believe all the bad things had to happen to get me where I am today. And I wouldn't change a thing."

💜: WHERE ARE YOU FROM?

【season 1; human!Xhura】

"I was born in Sendai, in Northern Japan. My mom's job took her to cities all across the nation so I spent most of my younger life with my dad in Osaka ― I guess they divorced pretty early on, before I even turned a year old I think. I still don't really know why. My dad was a great guy. Best dad ever. He taught me how to read and write and was always cooking something delicious any time he was in the kitchen. He, uh... he passed in a car accident when I was five.

"So I had to go with my mom after that. We spent most of my formative years going from one city to the next. It wasn't exactly the best situation―the school districts definitely made it difficult for me when I hit my teens. And then... all of a sudden really out of the fucking blue, honestly mom's marrying this in-ground pool salesman Craig from the American Midwest and we're hauling ass to corn-town.

"I'd... rather not talk about the rest."

🕷: WHAT'S YOUR BIGGEST FEAR?

【post season 1; demon!Xhura】

"It's irrational now, but there was a time it wasn't... and it's still stuck with me. The same nightmare ― that one day I'll be woken up, told to pack my things, break my pacts, and be forced back to the Human Realm... nothing and no one on my side... my family forever out of my reach."

🐈‍⬛: HOW LONG DID IT TAKE YOU TO ADJUST?

answered here

👿: WHO IS YOUR LEAST FAVORITE BROTHER?

【post season 1; demon!Xhura】

"Depends... what has Mammon done this time? ― Kidding, kidding; I'm kidding, I swear. Just like picking favorites, I can't pick a least favorite. They all annoy Luce and I in their own unique ways... which makes that list an endlessly-revolving one based on who did what and how badly they failed at covering it up."

🕸: WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE MAGICAL SUBJECT?

answered here

👾: DO YOU GAME WITH LEVI?

【season 1; human!Xhura】

"We game every once in a while. Truth be told I have the video game coordination of someone who had their thumbs surgically replaced with their big toes, so I prefer to watch. We do frequently binge TSL together though. How could we not??"

💀: HOW IS YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH BELPHIE?

【post season 1; demon!Xhura】

"To no one's surprise it was... rocky at first. How else are you supposed to describe your pseudo-friendship with your murderer? Especially since I kept re-living my death―talk about rubbing salt in the wound. But everyone was so happy to have him home and.... and well of course there's that whole thing about Ayla falling in love with him while planning his attic-rescue... eventually we found a good middle ground.

"And I'm happy to say that middle ground eventually just... smoothed out? I don't have a good analogy for it. I can't say exactly when, or what did it, but one day I just realized... I had forgiven him. And we were okay―better than okay―we were true brothers."

🦄: WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE MYTHICAL CREATURE?

【post season 1; demon!Xhura】

"Well they're not really mythical, but Hellnicorns are definitely my favorite creature native to the Devildom! Going on the Alpha hunt is still one of the top three most thrilling experiences of my life."

【the following is an excerpt from The Disaster Duo Chronicles, showcasing the hellnicorn herd】

There have to be about fifty of them. Maybe a few more. Spread out over a full-moon sky in small groups and then some. The smaller ones, babies probably, are indeed the size of regular pack horses. They gallop and whinny as a group of several chase each other by the tips of their horns. One scampers away before turning on gangly legs to lock horns with another, playfighting for dominance. The majority of them are the size of decent construction trucks— the kind with the extra set of back wheels that appear in a commercial with a man in a cowboy hat talking about letting freedom ring with a beer in hand, never shown on the road but only on dirt trails. They seem to have more than one horn on average; smaller secondary ones above or below the main ticket not unlike secondary wing characteristics. They graze and nudge each other, long tails swishing lazily. The big ones… those are the breath-takers. Four of them as big as, indeed, a two story house. Six nearby them just slightly shorter, but thicker and stockier. Likely from the same family branch. The biggest four have at least three horns, maybe several more small ones hidden in the shadows of the others. But that main horn has to be as long as Dagon is tall. And like all the others it shines a vibrant and glossy obsidian, as if carved from stone and bestowed as a crown for their majesty. Before Xhura can properly express his awe in a verbal fashion, the Alpha—oh it’s so obvious which one is the Alpha, standing mightier than the rest and covered in dark grizzled scar lines, eyes a milky white and filled with instinct like Xhura is coming to terms with really understanding—charges.

🔪: WHICH BROTHER WOULD YOU STAB?

answered here

♋️: WHAT IS YOUR ZODIAC SIGN?

answered here

🎱: HAVE YOU GOTTEN DETENTION?

【season 1; human!Xhura】

"You gotta be more specific here. Have I gotten detention ever in my life? Yeah, though it only started happening once I was introduced to the wonderful world of the Chicago Public School District. Feel the eye-roll of my words, I beg of you.

"But if you're asking if I've ever gotten detention at RAD? Hell no! Not only am I too excited for my classes to even think about missing them except you Seductive Speechcraft you little asshole, but there's no way in―well―Hell I'd risk whatever punishment Barbatos has in store there. Nu-uh, no thanks."

🦷: WHAT CHAPTER ARE YOU ON IN YOUR STUDIES?

【season 1; human!Xhura】

"Actually??? I have??? amazing news??? It took a lot of convincing but I finally got Lucifer to agree to let me sit the placement test for the Advanced-Placement Devildom History course!!

"I said before I have a knack for dates and things like that and the whole test is literally just this beautifully-made timeline of the Devildom from the Primordial Beginning to Diavolo's Father's reign and I'm so stupid excited to ace the fuck out of it???

"Huh? Oh, yeah that means I'll be sharing the course with Lucifer, that's right. ... No, no one else from the program or the House is in that course, why? Just what are you implying??? Hm??? That I would use History in such a nefarious not to mention slutty way? Is that it?

"Well... I can't even dignify that with an answer―nay... I won't. Hmph."

🎵: WHAT SKILLS DO YOU HAVE?

【season 1; human!Xhura】

"Hehe...heh... uhhh... I mean I've definitely gotten more than my fair share of compliments and praise about certain skills of mine the kind of skills that come in handy when you're strung out and desperate for another hit and your dealer is a sleazebag but hey nobody said addiction was pretty. But I'm more than just a good... that.

"I'm a pretty decent cook if I do say so myself. I'm also super obsessive over organizing and charting and color-coding―which has come in handy more than once since moving into the House of Lamentation. Even Lucifer has adopted my color-coordinated chore chart.

"I have my knack-for-dates thing, I'm fluent in both English and my native Japanese... let's see... what else... Oh, I guess I'm also really good about giving people the benefit of the doubt. You kinda have to be, you know, when you've hit rock bottom as many times as I have... aha... uh... is that enough? Cool."

🐃: WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE DEVILDOM FOOD?

【post season 1; demon!Xhura】

"Hands-fucking-down Barbatos' equine sashimi. Yeah, he normally only prepares it when he knows Dia-ji has had or is gonna have a stressful day, but once he found out I loved it so much, he basically makes it every time Luce and I stay for dinner after our bi-weekly budget meetings for RAD. If you've never tried it.... just do it. Stuff'll change your life."

☂️: DO YOU LIKE THE ETERNAL MOON?

【season 1; human!Xhura】

"It was a bit jarring to get used to at first, but honestly with my adhd I've always functioned better at night anyway?? So it's been a great way to kinda trick my brain into jumping right into 'productive mode.'"

[wand]: ARE YOU FRIENDS WITH SOLOMON?

【the following is an excerpt from The Disaster Duo Chronicles, giving a pretty blunt look at Xhura's feelings towards Solomon the Wise】

“You… dare…” He’s tired. He’s so tired. He’s so… fucking tired. And his tail is lashing out. And he’s backing up, waving a hand and teleporting all of Ayla’s things out of the way and packed and to the castle foyer, and he’s— He’s… “You didn’t protect her from herself.” He’s punching Solomon in the face, feeling the amazing and wonderful fucking crunch of cartilage under his hand, and the fantastic blooming pain in his knuckles. And the next thing he knows he’s in Barbatos’ room. For everyone’s safety. Including his own.

🗝: HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT THE ATTIC?

【season 1; human!Xhura】

"Honestly? I really wish Ayla would stop going up there. Yes, we've confirmed she's not crazy and there is someone trapped in what's basically an attic-gilded cage up there. But there's a reason Lucifer gets so bristly about it... and I kinda trust his judgment.

"After all, the guy lied about being a human to try and get us to help him. What does that say about his character, or what he's capable of? The Devildom may look all shiny and cool and it is don't get me wrong but it's still dangerous as fuck. And maybe people behind hidden bars are dangerous as fuck too. That's all I'm saying."

✝️: ARE YOU RELIGIOUS?

【season 1; human!Xhura】

"Not... really? I mean my dad's side of the family has a long history of Shintoism and shrines and stuff but once I lost touch with them it all kinda went in one ear and out the other. And I definitely wasn't praying to a higher power when I was doing drugs. So... no, I'm not."

🖋: WHAT DO YOU THINK OF DIAVOLO?

【season 1; human!Xhura】

"Between you and me, I guess I expected the guy in charge of the Devildom to be a little more... stuffy? proper? uptight? I don't even know the word I'm looking for but Diavolo definitely didn't meet my mind's eye when it came time for introductions. But he seems eager to learn and adapt his rule to changing times in all three realms, so that's a good sign (I think?)

"And when he put on his big-prince pants... he's actually kinda scary. you'd never know that grinning dork is underneath those stern eyes and that set frown.

"Either way, he seems to have a good head on his shoulders―he makes good decisions; the fact he somehow slipped up and allowed my program invitation to be processed even though someone else had already been chosen aside."

【post season 1; demon!Xhura】

"Wow... talk about a loaded question. Should I focus on when he begrudgingly allowed Barbatos to make a pact with me to keep me from dying on repeat? And how he seemed really reluctant to grant me an immigration status to live permanently in the Devildom?

"Or maybe instead I'll talk about when he was utterly convinced that I was the catalyst behind the Three Worlds Disasters―even if I wasn't aware of it? Which led to him deciding to revoke my pact with Barbatos―condemning me to death, and only finally believed it was actually Ayla's magic doing the destroying, not mine, at the literal last possible second??

"Then again, there's also a lot to be said about the fact that, during Hyakki Yako (when our friendship was at it's rockiest, mind you) we both were visited by a spirit guarding several precious memories of His deceased mother, the Late Demon Queen Ryoko, who then revealed to us that she was born human and had a human child before coming to the Devildom ― a child who turned out to be a very distant ancestor of... yup, you guessed it, this disaster demon boy! Thus making Diavolo some kind of convoluted distant-A-F uncle of mine??

"Yeah... there's definitely a lot to talk about when it comes to Lord Diavolo―or as I call him, Dia-ji―and how we feel about each other. It started out pretty rocky but... we're in a much better place now. I'm even gonna introduce him to some distant cousins from my dad's side of the family I got back in contact with this summer! He's so excited, it's honestly adorable."

🔗: WHAT ARE YOUR KINKS?

【post season 1; demon!Xhura】

"Hey-o, whoa there... you're totally cool with asking someone you barely know that kinda thing? Who raised you? At least take me out to dinner first~!

"Nah but all kidding aside, my kinks are for me and my practically perfect in every way husband, Lucifer, to know... and for you to wonder about for several centuries at the very least~"

"𝑊𝘩𝑎𝑡, 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑠𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔? 𝐹𝑖𝑛𝑒... 𝐿𝑒𝑡'𝑠 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑠𝑎𝑦 𝑤𝑒'𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑆𝑡𝑢𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝐶𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑐𝑖𝑙 𝑚𝑒𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑟𝑜𝑜𝑚... 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑙𝑘𝑏𝑜𝑎𝑟𝑑~"

🤍: ARE YOU FRIENDS WITH SIMEON?

【post season 1; demon!Xhura】

"I mean... kinda? We're friendly? I kinda keep a distance because didyouknowSimeonisactuallyChristopherPeugeot??? Mastermind and literary genius behind my literal favorite series-slash-creative world-slash-epic saga of all time??? Because... when I found out... I couldn't make so much as a sound in his presence for a whole-ass month, guys.

"So I kinda... just keep a friendly-yet-professionally-standard distance so as not to further embarrass myself."

♠️: DO YOU GAMBLE LIKE MAMMON?

【season 1; human!Xhura】

"Uhhh... well I guess you could technically say I used to gamble with my life every time I took a hit or a pill, or tried something new and stupid and way strong. But thankfully no I've never had a real honest gambling addiction―I had too many other addictions to juggle."

🟣: WILL YOU BE SAD TO LEAVE THE DEVILDOM?

【season 1; human!Xhura】

"I'd.... ahem― I'd actually rather not talk about this... if that's okay?"

【the following is an excerpt from The Disaster Duo Chronicles, where Xhura admits to Asmodeus his wish to stay in the Devildom forever】

"You get to keep the DDD, you know?" “Yeah, and I can already promise you I’m going to lose every job I might find staring at it all day.” There’s no use in sugar-coating it. That’s exactly how bad it’s going to be for him. “I get to go back to crashing on couches and being a nothing. A waste of space. Ayla will still be going back and forth with you guys here and I’ll just be…” Xhura looks up with eyes bright with tears. “Is it weird I’ve only been here a month and a handful of weeks but I feel like it’s always supposed to be my home?”

🦴: WOULD YOU MAKE A DEAL TO COME BACK?

【post season 1; demon!Xhura】

"If I could go back in time now and tell that scared boy just how alright everything was gonna turn out... well... can't mess with time travel like that for my own selfish gains, of course, but... thankfully all his worrying was for nothing.

"Because we get to stay. Forever."

i....... literally....... cannot believe i actually managed to do them all??? you're a rockstar bb

#obey me mc #obey me oc #;; ask game answered #my mc: xhura kusumoto #turtleybeachin #;; i seriously CANNOT BELIEVE #;; as much as I can't believe I actually answered them all #;; thanks again bb you rock #cw addiction #cw death #cw drugs #cw drug mention

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inanthesis · 1 year

Text

@dawnscall 😘 grumpy bar man gets his kiss

Very rarely did Zhongli genuinely feel exhausted after any task he's set his mind to over the past several thousand years, but being roped into a deep cleaning of the Angel's Share alongside Diluc had sure managed to end that way. It made sense that every so often extra care would be taken to make certain all areas in the tavern were clean and presentable for the loyal patrons which frequented it, but even if Zhongli had every excuse in the book to say this wasn't his job and he disliked doing these tasks at Wangsheng as well the allure of ending the night being able to steal as much affection from his feisty lover as he wanted after was well worth it... probably.

"Every surface of your beloved tavern has been cleaned according to your specifications, so I do believe it is time that I receive my compensation for such dutiful work, is it not?" He'd even kept his complaining minimal so as not to tempt Diluc's ire he so despised being the target of. "I believe it is only fair one is fairly rewarded."

Ignoring the mild ache in his back warning him he was no longer in his prime, Zhongli made his way over to Diluc with slow, even strides until his hands could rest upon the young man's slender waist and pressed on further until Diluc's backside would be pressed up against one of the tavern's many tables, effectively trapping him in the old god's hold just the way he wanted. Temptation was high to see just how far he could push to ruin a bit of the hard work they'd just done now that it was over, but he'd rather not push his luck too far before he even got a taste of what he'd done it all for to begin with.

"I fear you've driven me mad with the way I cannot seem to deny you." Slowly still his head would fall forward to rest gently against Diluc's, golden eyes slipping shut as he eased his way closer to seal that pesky space that had remained between their lips in a languid kiss. One hand would raise, albeit a bit reluctantly, to cradle his love's head and tilt it back for a better angle where one kiss lead to two or three or ten more that eventually abandoned their initial target to be peppered over Diluc's soft cheeks and down the curve of his jawline. Only once he was satisfied he'd made up for all of this time he could've spent kissing Diluc rather than wiping down tables did he relent, but made no effort to actually move away more than a mere inch.

"An excellent start, but I do not feel as if I have been compensated quite enough just yet. Do not disappoint me, Master Diluc."

#you don't have to respond to this just take your gay shit and go #I'm so out of practice writing ship content 😭#dawnscall #zhongli || interactions #zhongli || v: main #♡ || zhongli x diluc | dawnscall

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shalebridge-cradle · 2 years

Text

It Echoes When I Breathe

Ghosts haunt Hampton Court, as the tour guides are all to happy to explain to the palace’s visitors. In the wine cellar, in the courtyards, up the stairs and in the gallery. Especially in the gallery.

That is true of any place of sufficient history, one guest thinks to herself. The echoes of long-gone footsteps exist in every groove made by them over the centuries. The portraits evoke their spirits whenever they’re examined. Through the memory of those still here, through the knowledge of what came before, the dead live once again.

The guest thinking this might understand better than most.

Catherine of Aragon – Catalina, now, returning to her birth name – stares at the wall, and what is written on it. The grief of five hundred years ago washes over her in waves again.

It was Wolsey’s mansion when she was alive, and free to move of her own accord; perhaps it was preordained she would find the Wolsey rooms, hidden away beneath the Clock Court. She was told there were some excellent examples of renaissance art down here, but she finds herself transfixed not by those, but a sealed doorway. It is painted white, and bears the names of all her children.

Unnamed princess. Stillborn. January 1510.

Prince Henry, Duke of Cornwall. Died aged seven weeks, 1st of January to 22nd of February, 1511.

Two unnamed princes, one stillborn, one dead soon after his premature birth. 1513 and 1515, respectively.

Princess Mary. Survived.

Her daughter spent a lot of time at this particular palace, she’s been told, much like her father. She lived here. She honeymooned here.

Her heart was broken here. She languished here. Now, Catalina’s very being aches that she could not be there for her, to tell her how to cope with an unloving husband and pregnancies that resulted in nothing but pain.

But to go so far as to believe it was a punishment from God… While she may have fallen into such a trap back then, Catalina knows well enough now that, in her case and her daughter’s, their lack of surviving children was not God’s punishment. That burning heretics did not save their souls, but merely condemned them to a painful death. So much death and suffering, agony and loss, wrought by her parents, her husband, and her child – and their faith. All those around her were guilty, and thus so is she, in part.

Catalina pauses in her sorrow for a moment. Perhaps. She is here, of course, so it is not impossible.

She mumbles her plan to herself, secure in the knowledge there is no-one alive around to hear her.

“Next time I see a mirror. I shall whisper her name three times, as the children say. Perhaps she will appear to me, then.”

A part of Catalina nevertheless worries that she will see no-one but herself reflected in that mirror.

Even if Bloody Mary does materialise.

Anne Boleyn stands beneath the gatehouse that now bears her name, looking up and grinning like a madwoman.

She had heard, from Jane and the others after her, that Henry tried to erase any memory of her after her death. All the reminders of their marriage that once adorned the walls and ceilings of the palace were to be replaced, her portraits destroyed.

But not here. No, not here, at the foot of the steps near the great hall.

Tour groups come and go around her, their leaders pointing to the fan-vaulted ceiling and remarking on the symbols there; the H and A linked with a love knot, and the falcon that once represented her. The latter, the guides say, are a Victorian recreation, but the originals survived until well after her late husband’s time.

“Can’t get rid of me,” Anne says to no-one. “Can’t forget what you did.”

She exults in her bitter victory. Did he not think to look up, all that time? Not once did he think to admire the hard work the stonemasons put into his pleasure palace on the way up to the apartments, and see that his great shame was still hanging over his head?

Her manic smile falters. Someone must have. All those visitors that must have passed through the gate during that time. Someone must have spotted these, and remained silent.

There must have been someone, after her sham trial and execution, the one her husband was too craven to attend after signing the warrant himself, who thought she should be remembered.

She spends a long time pondering who that might have been, and how many of them there were. But, when she figures out the most important answer, a far more gentle smile lights up her face.

Of course. Bess had far more sense than either of her parents. That was her second motto, wasn’t it? Video et taceo – I see, and say nothing.

She shares one last little moment with her daughter, a secret kept beyond death, before she moves on.

Jane is in the Chapel Royal. She’s always liked it here. It’s always felt holy to her – though she attributes that less to the presence of God, and more the beauty of what He inspired. After all, it through mankind’s works that He makes His influence known.

She supposes she should be wandering the Silverstick Stairs, looking for her son. There are a few problems with that; one, the stairs aren’t accessible to the public. Two, she hasn’t thought to bring a lit taper with her.

Three, why would she be looking for her son?

Jane had little reason to worry for him. Henry had promised her – at least, she thinks he did, but she was dying at the time – that he would receive the best care money could buy, the most comprehensive education, every luxury he could ask for, so he could grow up to be a king like his father. And, from what she can gather, he did. Edward was a tool for his sycophants’ political and religious goals, changing the country’s course to their liking until they fell out of favour and were executed for treason.

That poor child. The heart that was cut from her chest yet bleeds for his lost potential.

Jane’s seen the portrait of her little boy, here at the palace. He’s emulating his father’s favourite pose, but she can see aspects of herself in his face. That brings her some comfort. She hopes that, when Henry looked at him, he saw his dear departed wife, mother to his youngest.

She hopes it haunted him.

She hopes he remembered that he got what he wanted. A healthy boy, at the cost of the wife, for others were “easily found”. She hopes he knew her infected, clotted blood was forever on his hands, like that of her unfortunate cousins. She hopes he is still here, somewhere, knowing that both his precious sons died young and sickly, that the emotional scars wrought on his daughters ended his dynasty, and that in one way or another he ruined all of his children with the insecurities he projected onto them.

The chapel had always been Jane’s place to reflect. It is here she has a chance to breathe. Perhaps because her lungs, and that disembodied heart of hers’, are meant to be buried beneath the altar.

Anne of Cleves, or Anna, as she has always preferred, is not hunting for devices or signs of lost children. She wasn’t queen for long enough for that to be the case. There is one small copy of her Holbein portrait on a wall, and that’s pretty much it.

Still, her memories of Hampton Court are probably the most positive of any of the other wives. The sadness came later.

Like here, in the great hall, with the endless tourists examining the tapestries, searching for the eavesdroppers in the beams, admiring the way the light shines through the stained glass. If Anna closes her eyes, she can imagine the chatter of modern crowds is that of the nobility she knew.

Yes, she sees it now, in her mind’s eye. The candlelight playing off the decorations, the hammerbeam roof just visible in the dim light, elegantly painted.

It is 1541 again.

She’s there to celebrate the new year, and present her gifts to the king and new queen. They were well-received, but the king retired fairly early, retreating into the private chambers the common folk now walk through freely. The guests remain, chatting, dancing, plotting against one another. Anna decided against the latter, and joins the festivities instead.

In fact, she asked her replacement for a dance. An offer that was, interestingly, accepted.

She never bore Katherine Howard any ill will. It was not the girl’s fault Henry found his continental bride repulsive – at least, that was the reason given for their failed marriage. It may have been that an alliance with Cleves was no longer as attractive, which reflected on Anna. Besides, it was not like Katherine had wanted to marry Henry. Her family were desperate to be back in favour, and pressured her into marrying a man old enough to be her father. No. Her only motivation to dance with the young queen was to entertain her. No underhanded scheming for her.

The music starts up again, in Anna’s mind. She remembers the steps she took, echoes them once more. Envisions Katherine as she once was, carefree, a smile on her face.

Anna knows, with the benefit of hindsight, that this will all come crashing down before year’s end. Katherine will soon no longer dance at all. Where there is now music, there will be silence. Where there is merriment, there will soon be fear, betrayal, and sorrow.

In this moment, she knows what is now sweet will soon be sour, and she will witness it many more times before her life, too, ends. Anna will lose all her loved ones, in body or in mind, and she will be alone.

She stops. She returns to the modern day. Strange, how she didn’t bump into anyone. No matter.

There is someone she must now find.

“Are you ready?”

Katherine Howard is at the beginning of her old route. She knows it like the back of her hand, burnt into her memory like an afterimage. Anna, her mistress, is by her side, looking at her expectantly.

Katherine takes a shaking breath. “As I’ll ever be.”

“I imagine you don’t want me to hold you in any way. Do you want me to speak?”

“Um. No. I don’t think so. But thank you for asking.”

“Right. If you need anything, let me know.”

Katherine nods, her chest full of ice, and begins walking down the hall.

She is apparently the most famous phantom at Hampton Court, which would bring her joy if it were literally any other situation. This room, the Haunted Gallery, is where she is meant to roam, making her mad dash to plead mercy from the King. Her screaming has reportedly reverberated off the walls here for centuries.

But, she is not running today. Not shrieking for mercy, if she can help it. All she has to do is make it to the end. She will not be imprisoned, or stopped. Anna walks beside her, her silent guard.

Guard.

This wasn’t her fault. She needs Henry to know that. She didn’t want this, any of this. She has to tell him if she gets to him she can tell him it’s not her fault get off get off get off she didn’t mean to SHE DIDN’T MEAN SHE DIDN’T –

“Kat?”

Katherine snaps back to the moment. She looks around; there are crowds, talking, modern lights and materials. No-one is going to lock her in her chambers to await her judgement.

They’re not even here anymore.

At least, not that she knows of.

“Sorry,” Katherine rasps. “Got a bit lost, there.”

Anna nods. “I saw. What do you need me to do?”

“Um. You can talk, now, please. I think… I think it will keep me here. Or, well, it will keep me… now, if that makes sense.”

Anna starts to tell a story about a place called Schwanenburg, and it helps calm Katherine somewhat. At the very least, she’s not actively reliving one of the worst moments of her short life.

With that, she finds the strength to move her leaden feet forward, into the chapel. It was never a very long way, provided no-one was stopping her. Looking down from the private balcony, she sees Jane Seymour, her eyes closed. She seems to be at peace.

Henry is not here. He hasn’t been for some time.

“You made it,” Anna tells Katherine.

“Yes.”

“Did it help? Do you feel like it’s over?”

Katherine thinks for a moment. Idly, she puts a hand to her face and wipes away the tears flowing freely.

“I don’t know.”

The guest waits in the privy garden, now unrecognisable to her. She has seen all she needs to, she thinks. The new bits, where the apartments used to be. The baroque and Georgian galleries.

And some of the old, too. Her marriage certificate, still perfectly preserved after all these years. Honestly, she didn’t even need to see the latter.

Catherine (Katherine? Kateryn?) Parr knows quite well what her marriage certificate looks like, and what it represents.

It is symbolic of her place as the last. The ‘lucky’ one. The one who was merely threatened with execution, and died only a year after the wife-murdering king she survived. But no-one particularly cares what happened to her after Henry died, do they?

Parr sighs. None of it matters. She is but an idea, now. They all are. Characters in history books and in plays. They are only what people remember, because that’s what ghosts are made of. Memories.

“Are you moping again, Parr?”

Ah. Anne Boleyn is here. What she wouldn’t have given to meet her in life, and now… “I won’t deny it.”

“Well, that won’t do. Moping wasn’t the point of all this, the point was closure. Have you found it?”

“There’s none to be found here, for me. My regrets come from after Henry died. My sadness comes from another place, not Hampton Court.”

Anne scrunches up her face, perhaps in thought. Then, she pulls something from behind her back, placing it in Parr’s hand.

It’s… a doll? An ornament, maybe? It’s got red hair, a ruff and a lovely golden dress. Parr looks up at Anne, brows knitted in confusion.

“The gift shop sells them. It’s meant to be Elizabeth,” Anne tells her.

Parr’s heart sinks.

“She apparently spent a lot of time here,” Boleyn goes on, as if Parr isn’t breaking down on front of her, “not always of her own free will – apparently this is one of the places Mary locked her up in – but she improved the kitchens, the gardens, she brought her favourite theatre troupe to do some of their plays, here. Did a lot of stuff, she did. Not all of it good, admittedly.”

Parr sucks in a shuddering breath, a death rattle, and says, “I am glad. That she found some joy in her life, some purpose, despite me.”

“Despite a lot of people. You’re not the only one who did a number on her psyche.”

“Thank you. Thank you for entrusting her to me. I shall cherish her as I should always have.”

It is just an effigy. Parr knows this, as she is a mostly rational woman. She knows the girl she failed is gone, and treating a little doll kindly will not change what is written in history. It is more that the girl’s mother is giving her another chance, however hollow it may be, to do things right.

“Are we done?”

Parr’s godmother is standing directly behind Boleyn, and the other three can be seen coming down the gravel path to the fountain. It may be Parr’s somewhat misty eyes, but the woman seems fragile in a way she wasn’t before. As if the stern facade is just that, a facade, and the slightest chip will shatter the whole thing.

“I can’t speak for the others,” Parr replies, “but I am.”

Anne nods. “There’s a gatehouse named after me, and I’m happy with that.”

When the other three wives come into earshot, they indicate much the same.

Katherine Howard, with red-rimmed eyes, says “I’ve done what I needed to do.”

“So have I,” adds Anna, “though there wasn’t much for me to look for to begin with.”

Jane states that she’s said her piece, even if it was only in her head. That it was good to remember – even if the experience wasn’t exactly pleasant – but that it’s time to move on. There are murmurs of agreement amongst the group.

So, that’s exactly what they do. Sort of. They know that some part of them will always be here, whatever form it takes. That hints and whispers of them will forever remain in these halls.

The guides were right. Ghosts, stories, memories, all haunt Hampton Court, and they will only grow in number.

#the cradle will write #six #sort of #are they actual ghosts? are they physically there? who knows #I have been vague the entire time I've been doing this and will not stop now

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unhingedwomandiaries · 17 days

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I've been interested in the idea of attending one of those sketchy "mystery" kilo clothing sales for years. You know the ones - they pack random piles of used junk into plastic barrels, then charge you pennies per pound to dig through the wreckage like a raccoon foraging from a dumpster behind Wendy's. Well, someone finally dragged one of these sartorial dumpster fires to my municipality, so I jumped aboard the textile trash train. Early bird tickets were a whopping three quid, which is basically like paying to breathe air at that point.

I recruited my two wing-people for this safari because misery loves company (and splitting train fares). We pre-gamed by lurching around town at 10 a.m., haunting all the usual morning hipster dives - the chocolate shop, the candy shop that's clearly circling the drain, and the obligatory artisanal bakery that nobody really needs. When we finally sidled up to the kilo-plex, the line of fellow ragamuffins already stretched toward the cosmos. Dudes were straight-up strategizing on obtaining all the best Nike swag first so they could book it for the parking lot fencelike (ashamed) trapped raccoons. There was even a crazed blonde just strolling the queue, waving a crumpled tenner, and begging to cut to the front for money. The local rag had paparazzi stalking the congregation too, snapping pixels of these huddled apparel junkies for their big take-down exposé (as if anyone reads small town newsprint anymore).

Once the doors finally cracked, it was every tatter for themselves in a pushing stampede usually reserved for American families lunging at discounted flat screens on Black Friday. I'm talking body-on-body violence erupting over ratty 22-year-old Little League Baseball souveneers. Like some dude was straight-up fisticuffing another human because he wanted to own a dri-fit tank proclaiming "Shakopee Sno-Devils, 2001 Finalists!" Why? Do you even remotely care about 10-year-olds playing baseball in Shakopee, Minnesota in 2001? No, you absolutely do not. Nor do I believe you've ever been to that place.

While the peasants bludgeoned each other over silk rags, I beelined toward the handbag aisle where the day's true fortunes would be uncovered. I glimpsed a shipping crate emblazoned with those beloved Hermès boxes we've been conditioned to lust over since birth. My palms literally perspired as I cracked the seal, only to find the actual purse had already been hijacked from its cardboard shelter. Raptured. I briefly held a pink Prada bag in my hands before it was forcibly yoinked away by some more wanton pilferer. That was the trough's high-dollar ceramic penguin, now just a fleeting memory.

By checkout, my haul looked pretty measly - two skirts, two shirts, two scarves, all for a grand maximum of 43 measly pence. One scarf did happen to be low-key designer Gucci, which is kind of sad when you think about it. Like I literally paid pennies for an accessory some rich idiot once spent a monthly Dillard's wage on. We all have our checkered Buddhist moments of realizing all material goods are empty vessels waiting to be discarded after a few years of trophy ownership, I guess.

The clowns just kept flooding out of the car too - people were aggressively documenting their stupid clothing scores on social media like they'd unlocked the cover of Life magazine or something. Then we stopped for sustenance at this random "Bento" vegan place, which is a curious name since nothing they offered remotely resembled a Japanese bento box. My mate somehow ended up ordering "Sexy Mock Legs," which arrived looking like the vegan autopsy of a non-Brown Fraggle. Just a plate of creepy, smooth faux-frog appendages that nobody would want to ingest. We are a very bizarre species, are we not? Hunter-gatherers turned haul-uploaders, caping for the same singularly trite delusions with no collective awareness. Such is the fabric of modernity, I suppose. No pun truly intended.

#diary #worth the weight #haul

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daedalmirage · 1 year

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POST-TRIAL 3.1 | “ GNAWING AT THE WOOL OVER MY EYES ! ” | SIR GAWAIN | 🚒 |

Keizo -- not Gawain -- had had a lot of time, the year before he was marked.

Quite a lot of it was spent moping. More of it was spent killing beers with Nakano, staring at a ceiling. Much more was spent waiting near a phone, hoping for a call from one -- but receiving another.

And being grateful.

And yet, not an insignificant amount of time had been spent thinking about the concept of the crab bucket.

The idea -- as Nakano had put it -- is that crabs can be stored in a bucket, while fishing. You can pile the crabs up to the top without worrying, because if one crab tries to make an escape -- away from certain death-- His doomed brethren, sensing his freedom, will use their awful claws to drag him down back with them. Together forever. Wallowing in shallow water until they're all killed.

At the time, he had scoffed.

But now, trapped -- watching one, two of them jump down his throat -- and then too many vote without thinking; voting to kill a woman who did nothing not in their name; voting to kill a woman who was fulfilling a duty; voting to kill a woman who would have put herself on the sword to save any of them--

Just as they had voted for him, the first time it counted. Just as they had always been willing to jump to the easiest conclusion, to sacrifice the people they believed, in their hearts, were lesser than they were.

Manako had killed, so she had to die. They had not killed -- so they were innocent, and deserved to live. They deserved to live because they wanted to live. They were entitled to it.

And if they didn't get to live, they would drag any other person down with them to their own watery grave.

His finger is tracing the mark.

(He almost hopes -- in his own crab heart -- that Daisy never tells them the cure. But he knows that's not right.)

(He's just angry. Patronized by sniveling pups, desperate to retain their own hides -- and dressing that up as a moral stageplay. Twisting themselves in knots to appear better than him, all to justify keeping themselves as safe as possible, until they're dressed up for the slaughter.)

(Because they had voted for him, when they thought he could die. And they're desperate to keep the punishments off of themselves. Because they don't deserve it.)

(As if they were not all culpable.)

(The crabs, desperately clawing at each other -- acting as if their bucket wasn't being dragged to the flame to cook them alive.)

It was Keizo -- not Gawain -- who appraised Banri and Jesse with an unwavering eye. Speaking nothing. His chin jutted -- his smile twitching, every so often, with disgust.

And it was Keizo -- not Gawain -- who didn't react to Manako, or Summer, or Daisy -- because at that point, their fate was sealed by people who were desperate for an answer that would keep them wrapped in a blanket, swaddled until someone came to kill them. And then they would die -- their faces one of shock.

And it was Keizo -- not Gawain -- who sighs when he sees the vote tallied.

...

(But, well.)

(Such was their lot, here.)

And eventually... he tries....

A smile.

"...Well. Shoulda known better than t'full circle it, Rayster. Shoulda just voted f'myself again, yeah...?"

.....

And he moves without thinking -- while Daisy's talking. A roundabout way.

His hand clasps Ray's shoulder. With love. With affection. And his voice is low to her, before she shakes her head.

And he makes his way to Daisy -- before he--

Quickly--

In their usual way.

"C'mere."

And he scoops her up from over her chair -- Kei, this time, rather than Keizo -- pulling her into a bridal carry -- too tight.

Before he sits back down, still holding Daisy. Maybe a whisper near her -- too low for even Stormy to hear.

...For a time.

Before he looks to Manako -- his eyes soft.

"I'm real sorry, Manako-san. I... tried. An' -- seems like... some of us played t'the tune, too... just wish it had been more. But I'm real grateful, t'y'all who followed my lead, there...."

.... And his eyes go to Tezuka, to Franz, to Benkei.

"...As f'the rest of you... I ain't gonna pretend I understand y'positions. But I hope y'all can live with your choices. My conscious is clear."

(Crabs and cowards, all of them.)

(But him too, he supposes.)

#daedal mirage #ch3 #ch3 afterword #gawain #submission

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frogtanii · 3 years

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iwaizumi was... overwhelmed, to say the least.

the past few days had been such a whirlwind of change that hajime could barely properly process, much less appropriately react to it all, so he behaved much like a zombie, saying yes when prompted, signing papers when told, and packing up what was his entire life for the past 11 months.

wow. iwaizumi collapsed on his bed as he scanned his now barren bedroom. he’d been here for almost a year and yet, all his belongings were in boxes within a couple of days.

hajime couldn’t keep the disbelieving chuckle from escaping his chest as he leaned back on his bed, dark brown eyes trained on the ceiling.

it felt like he’d spent such a large chunk of his life trapped in this house, under the foot of the woman who he thought he’d marry but in reality, he’d been in little leagues longer than he’d been in love.

iwaizumi scoffed and rolled his eyes. yeah, “in love”. it’d been about a week since his whole life started to unravel and he had hardly seen, let alone spoken to meiko throughout that entire time.

over text, she’d sworn up and down that she loved and cared about him but as she passed by him packing his things a few days ago, she’d barely spared him a second glance.

hajime wasn’t going to lie. it hurt. he’d opened his heart up to her, something he didn’t do easily, and she’d taken his trust and used it to twist him into her weapon.

he always believed he was stronger than this — he’d never forget his mother telling him so when he was younger. he had fallen and scraped his knee yet he refused to cry to keep from upsetting his mom. iwaizumi existed to live up to what his mother thought of him but here he was, completely enveloped in meiko’s shit, doing her dirty work and following her bidding like some mutt.

god, toorū was right. he really was her bitch.

“i could hear you thinking from down the hall, iwa-chan.” speak of the devil...

oikawa stood at his doorway, leaning against the frame with a posture that seemed relaxed at first glance but if you looked a little closer, you’d notice the tenseness in his shoulders and the tightness of his smile.

hajime quickly sat up on his bed before motioning for his old friend to enter. “uh, yeah,” he began, his voice cracking a little from disuse, “i have a lot to think about.”

the light haired brunette let out an understanding hum before wandering into the room, sharp observant eyes darting to look at all the empty walls. “looks like you’re all packed.”

“pretty much,” iwaizumi nodded before the room fell into an awkward silence, the two childhood friends completely avoiding one another’s eyes.

“look, i-“

“iwa-chan, i’m-“

they both paused for a moment before bursting into laughter, the sound carrying into the hall and throughout the house.

hajime wiped a few stray tears from his eyes, shaking his head at their awkwardness. “you first, shittykawa.”

toorū gasped in halfhearted mock offense before quickly sobering up, training iwaizumi with a completely serious look. “i’m sorry and before you go on some bullshit, self sacrificing rant, you’re not the only one to blame for what happened to our friendship.”

he sighed while making his way to iwaizumi’s bed, sitting down gently beside him. “i should’ve known better, okay? i shouldn’t have let my jealousy and insecurities get in between us but i guess i got swept up in the attention, yknow? meiko is actually charming when she wants to be.”

iwaizumi nodded in agreement, knowing all too well how compelling meiko could be. the room fell into a more comfortable silence as both boys escaped into their thoughts, questions about the future of their friendship flitting throughout their minds.

“oh!” oikawa was pulled out of his own head at hajime’s exclamation, his eyes moving to observe his friend dig through his pockets to procure a thick white envelope. “here. i’d like you to give this yn.”

all toorū could do was nod, his brain short circuiting at the sight of iwaizumi’s apparent kindness to the woman he tormented for so long. “uh, what’s in it?” he ventured to ask, his soft hands toying with the sealed envelope flap.

a soft chuckle came from across the bed. “don’t be so nosy toorū, just give it to her, yeah?” oikawa rolled his eyes but obliged, the bed creaking as he stood to his feet.

“so... this is it, huh?” it was like the reality of the situation was just now sinking in — they hadn’t been close in a while but iwaizumi was still his best friend and he wasn’t quite ready to let him go.

they’d been through so much together, practically growing up together and now, they’d only see each other on holidays, if even then, and then he’d never be invited to hajime’s wedding as his best man as they’d planned and he also wouldn’t be the coolest uncle/godfather of iwa’s children and—

“fuck no,” hajime scoffed with a bright grin on his face. “thought you were gonna annoy me til the end of time shittykawa. don’t tell me you’re quitting your job now.”

the hidden meaning behind iwaizumi’s words brought tears to oikawa’s eyes and before he could stop himself, he launched his body into iwa’s arms. hajime hesitated, his hands stuttering at toorū’s sides as though he’d forgotten how to hug but the feeling passed, his arms winding around his friend’s lithe waist.

“‘m gonna miss you hajime,” oikawa’s voice came out as a broken whimper, his arms tightening around his shoulders.

iwaizumi hummed instead of responding, too afraid of his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. they stood there for a moment but the honk of the moving truck outside signaled the both of them of their limited time.

hurriedly, oikawa wiped the tears off his cheeks before waving awkwardly at iwaizumi as he left the room with a friendly, “don’t be a stranger.”

and then he was gone.

toorū finally allowed himself to collapse into sobs on his best friends empty bed, his palms pressing into his eyes as he sat there and just let himself feel.

apparently, he wasn’t crying very quietly because it took only a few moments for you to find him, your soft footsteps alerting him to your presence. oikawa scrambled to wipe away what he knew was an unattractive mixture of tears and snot as you got closer.

you were one of the last people he wanted to see him like this.

“hey,” you whispered, standing a few feet away from him. “um, i know this is probably a bad time but i just wanted to thank you for apologizing? back at the awards show?”

toorū sniffed as he looked up at you with confusion written on his face. “what? you shouldn’t thank me for apologizing. ‘s common courtesy.”

you laughed softly, nodding in agreement. “well, not always. so, thank you.” finished with your piece and not too keen on lingering where you weren’t wanted, you moved towards the door but were swiftly stopped before you got there.

“um, here. it’s from iwa-chan.” you gaped at the thick envelope oikawa was handing you before taking it and opening it, a low curse falling from your lips.

inside the package was a dense wad of cash, more money than you’d seen in months. accompanied with it was a letter, written in beautifully loopy handwriting.

you shut it quickly before oikawa could see, stuffing the envelope deep within your pocket where you could access it alone in the depths of your room.

“do you wanna come eat? last i heard, bokuto and tsumu were doing a cooking competition and i’m sure it’ll be fun to watch.” you were severely thrown off by the money and letter but you were determined to show toorū that you’d accepted his apology and were on your way to making amends.

he gave you a shy nod and trailed behind you to the kitchen, the loud sounds of fire and screaming coming from down the hall. you wanted to focus on the fun and merriment but the envelope was practically burning a hole in your pocket.

later that night, you finally got the chance to open the letter and read it, your former manager’s words bringing tears to your eyes.

dear yn,

i’m probably the last person you expected to hear from. you probably didn’t want to hear from me at all if i’m being honest and i don’t blame you. i know there is nothing i can say that could make up for what i’ve done to you but i’d like to try.

i’m sorry. those words don’t nearly express in and of themselves how truly remorseful i am but they needed to be said. there’s no excuse for how i treated you — not meiko, not my stress, absolutely nothing.

you deserved my common decency and respect and i didn’t give that to you. instead, i abused my position and made your life hell. i’ll never forgive myself for that.

uh, i bet you’re wondering what the money is? i promise i’m not trying to pay you off, it’s just all the money i’ve denied you since you moved here. i have a lot of wrongs to right and this is one of them.

sorry, i’m not very good with words but i just wanted you to know that i’m very sorry for everything that i’ve done. and i’m in no place to make demands or anything but i just wanted to ask if you’d keep an eye on oikawa for me.

he’s strong but he’s also vulnerable. he might be a pain in my ass but he’s my best friend and since i can’t keep him from drowning, i was wondering if you’d do that - not for me but for him.

anyways, this letter is shit but i suppose you get the gist. use the money for whatever you want and if you’re as unselfish as i’ve heard, you don’t owe me anything. you don’t owe me money, kindness, or forgiveness.

take care of yourself,

iwaizumi hajime

℗ poker face

so... this is it

series masterlist

(●’◡’●)ﾉ

an - soooo m back :D hopefully this is the last of my mini hiatuses!! this chapter sucked to write but i’m not mad at how it turned out?? pls let me know how i did skjdkd don’t forget to feed me <3333

taglist - if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you

@boosyboo9206 • @geektastic84 • @elianetsantana • @trashy-simp • @infinitebells • @6mattsun9 • @suhkusa • @katsulovee • @kotarosbabygirl • @fucktheworlddude • @insomniacwreck • @calumsfringe • @saltylettuce • @chai-blu • @al3x1ss • @hawksyoongi • @syndellwins • @jooleuuh • @loubells • @kissungjae • @liberhoe • @tetsurocore • @animeoverdosee • @duhsies • @saikishairclip • @afire24 • @premiyagi • @kit-kat428 • @doctorspencereid • @daphnxy • @kyomihann • @maer-333 • @sinoflust19 • @peteunderoos • @peachiikichu • @iidanotlida • @yongboxerrr • @kac-chowsballs • @tanakaslastbraincell • @memorableminds • @risjime • @starry-magicshop • @sugavwara • @smuttyanimeslut • @kiwibirbs-library • @haijkk • @airybnb • @crybabygumi • @iwaisa • @decaffinatedtealover • @notameera • @kawaii-angelanne • @rintarovibes • @urlocalsimp

the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!

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kim-monsterlings · 3 years

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Kaan - M Naga x F Human (Reader) // NSFW

The pictures do not belong to me. I only created the mood board. Do not repost my work anywhere.

Content: NSFW/Lemon; back again with mentions of fae deals, fluff, intimacy (nuzzling for warmth, cuddling), brief kissing, receiving oral (+ forked tongue), orgasm denial, ingested venom/aphrodisiac (consensual), penetrative sex + handjob (he’s a naga... so, double)

Wordcount: 3408

“Tropemas” Summary: while caring for the naga in hibernation, snowfall worsens overnight, leaving you stranded in his cave

Notes: TROPEMAS!! #1, the beautiful cliché of being trapped in together during a snowstorm!

Masterlist // “Tropemas” Masterlist

Snowfall came too early this year; weeks too early, before the scarves and blankets were finished and berries picked. No honey was ready yet to trade with the fae for their blessed fruits so on a foolish promise - really, you ought to have known better than to trust fae, no matter how long you'd traded with them - you swore to return with a trade worthy of their trust as you rushed into the already snow-laden woods.

The two hours wasted trekking up steep slopes and struggling against growing branches snagging on your thinning, woollen layers wasn't a favourable way to spend your time, definitely not in wintertime. Though the journey was horrendous, weighed down by a heavy bag of half-finished gifts and a hamper of logs and food, the cave peeking out of the cliffs warmed you against imminent frostbite.

Hibernation hadn't come yet, if the large boulder propped against the cave entrance was any indication. Dim flames warmed the inner cave as you struggled to roll the rock back, where it would be sealed once his season of hibernation really began.

It was so dark the sprawled coils nearly tripped you. Whiter than the dirtied snow falling slowly beyond the cliff, the white naga laid well outside of his nest of old furs and blankets; most gifted from you. His scales reflected the odd amber of fire, tinting long, wispy hair against his pillow.

Only one thing would wake him. Kaan had learned to ignore your voice - with practice, he liked to tease - and the debt to the fae and their blessed garden was worth it when you held out the plump berry in your fingertips. Already the juices dribbled, so sweet in the middle of winter, and the temptation to eat it yourself itched at the back of your mind.

The naga's dusk nose twitched before a forked tongue flicked out to scent the air. His warm lips kissed the juices away, the berry savoured. Kaan groaned, both thick from sleep and delight. “I love fae food," he whispered, and at your laugh, peeked his eyes open. "Only one?"

"More when you say hi."

"Hi," he yawned. Long arms stretched overhead and the naga curled nearer, his head almost on your lap. "Feed me, morsel."

"Morsel," you scoffed. Kaan whined when you stood and ate a fae-blessed berry, the sugars and juices tingling through you. "How are you doing?"

"Apart from missing you?" The glare you gave earned a bright laugh. His teasing never ceased and it did nothing to help the flutter in your chest. He only missed your gifts. "I'm cold. Will you light the fire again? What did you bring me?"

Though you grumbled, his keen eyes already found the logs piled in wait of being lit. Kaan moved out from the bundled nest to the hamper. His arm reached, and a sharp hiss made you both freeze when you smacked him back.

The plea and apology jumbled together as you choked on a laugh. Crouched before the dim fire pit, sparks caught light as a heavy head nestled against your thighs. Kaan groaned and wound his arms to your hips, nuzzling against you.

"Sssso warm," he whispered, and scrunched his face when the lisp elongated. "I missed you."

Soft cracks of the fire warmed the cave. His hair felt silken when you ran your fingers back through it. "I missed you, too."

He hummed, "good. Tell me what you brought me."

The gradual slowing of his breathing came when you spoke. You used to take offence to it, when Kaan began to hug you close and his heart slowed, but now as he draped his heavy tail closer around your bodies, you understood it to be a sign of his trust.

Nobody else would be here- could be here while he neared hibernation. Kaan reluctantly stirred when you pressed a berry to his lips with a whispered groan of your name when you teased and ate one instead. His lips pressed to your fingertips before your cheek, and he fell into the furs you threw back over him.

Beneath the cave, down a tricky slope in near darkness, you washed grime off your body in a freezing, rushing stream. So narrow and fast that you never dared inch too close, only retrieving fresh water and helping stock it for Kaan when he woke.

It was your practice for too long now. Always helping, always returning to his side to wake him, to welcome the lips on your temple as he relied on your body heat in colder nights. You wouldn't change a thing... not many things. The worst part of coming was knowing the same evening you would leave for the season, and return in no time passed for Kaan, but days of a life passed, wasted, pining for the naga asleep in a cave.

He woke with a small yawn and a nudge of his tail to your hip. Without looking up from the fire you stoked, you ran your fingertips to the white and silver scales. "You know, I think you take me for granted."

Kaan frowned. The anticipated retort hadn't come, and the naga instead slid closer. His cool arms curled back to your waist like he’d never parted and settled you on his wide lap. "Would you want me to visit your village as often as you visit me? I could. I would, to see you," he hummed, and his smile grew against your shoulder when you scowled. "I may even end up on a spike. Or be made an accessory… I am pretty enough. You could always keep me close-"

"At least you'd be quiet."

"How rude," he muttered. His chin rested heavy on your shoulder. In the passing seconds, his cheek nuzzled closer, lips soft brushing the shell of your ear. If he scented the air, you dreaded what would be found. "Nearly done with the fire?" He - from practice, knew to dodge your elbow, grinning and squeezing you close. "I need to rest. Will you be gone?"

"I'll be back in a month," you said, but his arms tightened at your words. It hurt. To come all this way only to leave again, empty handed and heavy-hearted. "It'll pass quickly for you. Go, rest."

His tongue flicked at your cheek before he wriggled and curled in his nest. Neither of you mentioned the tip of his tail gently curled to your ankle. "Don't eat all my berries."

Left huddling before the growing flames, it was only the ache weighing on your shoulders keeping you from leaving. That, and the softening of scales as reluctant as you to part. Perhaps a little that beyond the cave, the wind lashed and even standing - gently stepped from the coils slowly winding to your knees - and pausing at the entrance, the harsh chill struck you.

It was dark. The only light came from the fire grown at your back illuminating the cave, bathing Kaan is a soft glow.

One peek from the boulder at the entrance and your stomach fell. Too dark for you, too dangerous with ice coating the path and frost in the air, and any torch carried would extinguish on first step outside.

He woke from a light sleep with a groan like he had before, but once he'd stolen the fae fruit, his eyes fluttered shut again. Only after snatching a blanket - one you had spent hours on, were his eyes lifting to yours.

"Kaan, I'm staying the night."

With a soft stare, fatigued and barely resisting the tug of hibernation, the bundled naga crooked a smile. "Missed me that much already?"

"It's too dark for me to get home." The soft glow of his eyes and his frown reminded you that unlike humans, the naga was adapted to dim caves and night-darkened forests. Unable to look him in the eye, you pretended to search for somewhere to lay. "Not all nagas are as soft-hearted towards humans."

"Not humans." His arms reached out to you from the nest. "Just you. The cost of your stay is to cuddle me. Keep me warm."

The thick boots laced at your ankles landed with a thud even as you frowned. "But you're cold."

"So warm me up."

The chill of his arms made you gasp, but Kaan chuckled and tucked you even tighter. His nest was set in a dip of stone, cushioned by furs and blankets and old clothes, some yours that had somehow been “lost,” and laying on something warmed by the time Kaan had been curled here settled the nerves in your stomach.

The race of your heart lurched as the naga dragged his jaw against your crown, embracing you to his warming body. Bare chested as he was, your fingertips curled above his calming heartbeat and already, he was breathing slower.

Sleep evaded you with the steady tucking of cool scales against your legs. Kaan gripped you to him tighter, coming to clutch you to his chest, and sometime sleep came, when your ear was to his heart and his fingers tangled in your hair, pressing you there.

Without any light to wake you, it was the chill of a fire dying rousing you, and you woke much as you had fallen asleep; warmed in the softest hug, lips hovering to your forehead. There wasn't anywhere you would rather be; it would've been perfect, if the fire hadn't died.

Kaan's soft breaths nuzzled against your crown. He had woken only moments ago with you, but he was quick to draw you back when you readied to move, burying you beneath furs and his coils. He seemed as reluctant as you to leave, so you tucked into his chest, content to listen to the slow beat of his heart. It nearly soothed you back to sleep; the soft pace of like a lullaby.

Words thickened by lethargy, Kaan mumbled against your temple, "why is it only you come in winter?"

"Don't you want me to?"

"That wasn't the question."

Palm flat on his taut stomach, you watched the muscle tense beneath your touch, reluctant to even whisper, "I care about you."

"That would be why you spent the night wriggling closer then," Kaan teased, pressing his nose into your hair with a chuckle, even as you gasped and strained against him.

"I was wriggling because your coils tighten in your sleep! Don't blame me, you heat-hog! That tail-"

"Oh, this one?"

Scales rubbing together rasped like the soft burn of a fire now lost. Kaan weaved them against you until you were pressed flush, able to watch him bite back a grin when you grumbled, "you just want me close for heat."

"Mm. Speaking of heat," he breathed, and if he heard your heart spasm, he didn't show it. Kaan's palm stroked against the curve of your throat, thumb stroking where your collarbones dipped. "You ought to be careful about caring for me. It almost feels like courtship, and we wouldn't want me to fall into a mating rut, would we?"

The gentleness brushed where your neckline fell loose on your chest. His eyelids fell to where he traced the heat rushing to his touch, and the silence only dragged on. His chest rose on a deep breath, one caught in his throat as he whispered, "right?"

"Kaan…"

Hand framing your jaw, the naga swallowed hard, voice rasping. "Would we?"

"I," you shuddered at his forehead coming to yours, his lips only a mere breath away. "I wouldn't mind if you wanted to… to-"

"To mate you."

"To mate me," you echoed. "I wouldn't mind being your mate."

For a fleeting breath, Kaan laid against you, into you. Thick tail nudged to your hips and his lips were so warm where he was elsewhere cold. The affection you ached for flooded you down to your curling toes, but it was fleeting. Kaan unwound himself. He recoiled to the deepest corner of his nest, head tucked low, away from you.

"Go," he croaked. Kaan's claws bit into the cave beneath him; he had never been so small in your presence. "Go, please."

There was no arguing with the tremor in his plea, nor with the agony creeping into his face, the same you fought to hide deep in your chest. Only the words whispered in the back of your mind forced you from his nest, cold now without him beside you. He didn't want you, the voice hissed. He doesn't want you. The promise of a mate tempted him.

He wouldn't be fighting it so hard if that were true. Fighting for you.

Boots heavy on your dragging feet brought you to the mouth of the cave, but no further. The forests beyond remained hidden. Even the grip on the snow boots didn’t ground you when the unyielding stone forced you back from the force of your struggle.

"Kaan…"

"I can't," he mumbled. "If you stay, if-if-"

"The cave entrance is snowed over. The stones are frozen together and we're," you winced. "We're snowed in together, Kaan."

Hardly audible above the storm binding you to the cave, Kaan whispered, "no. No, you're just-you must be weak."

"I'm not weak, Kaan." Weaker than him, yes, but not weak. "If I was weak, I wouldn't make it to you through those woods."

"No… No, I didn't-" his gulp was audible. "May I try?"

Nothing stopped him from trying, but you. Kaan tucked himself round the cave wall and only met your eyes when you stepped back. Sharp guilt rose to tighten and bind your throat.

The rock didn't budge. Not with his body coiling tight and shoving harder, succeeding only to bruise himself.

You were locked together. Trapped.

Kaan's soft voice carried like the wind. Curled into the coldest crack of the entrance, it brushed so gently, quietly, you almost missed it. "Tell me you meant it." Though turned away still, the tip of his tail didn't miss when he reached, winding against your leg. "Tell me again."

"Kaan-"

"Don't come closssser if you didn't," he whispered.

The single step broke him. His tail swept you back but he caught you, the furs your cushions when he laid you down. Kaan framed your cheeks and nudged his nose to yours.

"Tell me before this goes any further," he said, his long eyelashes fluttering by yours. Even as he spoke, the claws of his fingertips traced beneath your thick layers, creeping up your stomach to brush your chest. "Tell me."

"Kaan, I want you to be my mate. I want to be yours."

The gentlest kisses faltered where your chest rose with shallow breaths. Together, the layers fell away, goosebumps and shivers blossoming beneath the cold air, beneath the softening, heated stare running low, lower to your hips struggling to lift beneath the weight of his.

On a warm laugh, Kaan rose up and helped you kick the rest free. Both laying bare, warm and close, your hands travelled the muscle of his chest - only for you to gasp.

The naga grinned, cheeks nestled to your thighs. One hiss made you whimper, forked tongue flicking up, a mere brush. "Kaan-"

"Yes?"

"Don't tease," you whispered, but the warming of his eyes promised nothing less than torture. His tongue slid from his lips reminiscent of how he tasted the fae food, and he tasted you with the same reverence, the same guttural groan as the tip flicked up your folds to brush your flushing bud. "Kaan," you gasped, and the naga only laughed deeper.

"Did you think I wouldn't savour you?"

"Savour-“ you choked. Morsel. “Kaan, I am not a meal-"

"You are," he murmured, and with his hands gripping your thighs, he dragged you from the nest and against his lips.

The cave rang with your hoarse cries and hollow breaths. So sensitive already, the tips of his tongue falling low sent a wave of fire through you. Kaan groaned with your heels digging hard into his back to beckon him close, but he never wasted a second, never wasted a breath that could be better spent pleasuring you.

He pleasured you too well. With a soft whisper unheard over the blood rushing in your ears, Kaan pressed a warm hand to your navel and held you down, the thick muscle slipping into your hips and- oh, you cried, the tip dragging slowly to the nerves tender and tightening.

The cave was dark enough, but only blurred spots danced in your vision. Your legs trembled. Kaan curled his tongue and dragged up, and you arched, bucked, overcome with a rush of-

Nothing.

"That… that was cruel," you struggled to say, shaking still as the crescendo began to ebb away and the offender grinned. His open mouthed kisses rose from your navel and up, pausing to press sharp teeth to your nipple until you sunk heavy again. "I won't... I won't beg."

"I think not. It will be me begging for you," he said to your lips. Thick on his tongue, Kaan kissed you deeper, cradling your crown as a weight nestled between your hips. His lips rose when you whined and spread your thighs wider, welcoming the thick, twin lengths heavy on your stomach. "And beg I will," he breathed, and two crooked fingers inched into you. "I want to make love to you, now. Please. Please," he whispered, fingertips where his tongue had been and teasing whines freely from you.

"I need you. I-"

Kaan's lips parted on bringing his slick fingers to his lips, and in parting them, you saw the swollen fangs, slick like his fingers as he sucked you from them. The gentlest warmth of his head running from your clit down stole your focus with ease, your eyes rolling and hips following, leaning up to align with his cock pressing down.

"Ready?" Kaan pressed his thumb to your lower lip, flushed and swollen, parted as you struggled for breath. Your muscles tightened at the steady rub of him to your centre, and you nodded. "Lips open, my mate."

"For… for the venom?"

"If you'd rather not," he rushed, and though you loved his need to reassure you, the pull of his body away twisted your stomach so you dug your heels into him and tensed. His cock entered you so slowly you nearly came, and when he stroked down your cheek to bring your eyes to his, the warmth there coaxed you back to that precipice. "Do you want it?"

The answer was yes to all he had, and you begged as much. Kaan chuckled and the rumbling met your lips. With the first tang of venom on your tongue, the naga rocked himself forward and his cock filled you, thick and curved and hot like his tongue meeting yours, blackened by the aphrodisiac tightening your chest.

It eased the slight burn in a breath and you nodded once, dragging your mate closer and reaching low to stroke the cock heavy on your stomach. Kaan shuddered and his body stiffened, a whimper passing you both.

Then he moved.

He moved and your body was aflame. The pleasure endless in your nerves arched your chest, Kaan nuzzling down to take your flushed nipples into his lips in turn and nip, suck, kiss, thrusting in time with your stuttered gasps.

Beyond the cave, wind howled; nothing like Kaan's deepened groans, his claws dipping into your thighs where he pushed you back and sunk deeper at this angle. Venom coated his lips. It coated yours, tingling in your throat, thoughts and stomach, until your breath caught.

He felt it, too. Kaan's forehead rested to yours as he rocked slower, deeper, and into your fist. With a bitten back smile, you squeezed your fingers and ran low to tease the slick dip in his scales, the slit, and the naga bellowed a harsh cry. He came deep, hot and strong and along your stomach, Kaan stealing your matching pleasure with a fevered kiss.

Neither of you felt sated. The venom still pulsed strong and hibernation was long forgotten, a mating rut stirred and his cocks stiff against you. Kaan cradled you on his lap as you sought to be closer, aching to take him again until you couldn't any longer.

Until the snow melted, you would wait in your naga's arms, feasting on sweet fae berries and his kisses.

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