#and a bit of a looming fear that when he loses his looks that maybe people won't like him as much anymore

[ordowrites]

potions and brews

cw: mdni, dub-con, aphrodisiacs, afab reader with little pronouns used, mild yandere content with wanderer, general not sfw warnings., begging, oral (f.receiving) user has a vision, praising (use of "good girl"), orgasm denial, degradation, slightly unhealthy relationships, slight dom/sub dynamics, breeding kink

synopsis: inspired by the current genshin event going on! (the reader is not the Traveler), genshin characters reacting to you (or them) consuming an aphrodisiac.

characters: diluc, kaeya, arlecchino, wanderer

i. diluc

you frown as you stare at him, his face is flustered a bit and he clears his throat. he tries to find words as you across your arms over your chest, an unamused look crossing your face as he fumbles a bit.

"ah - i-it seems that i may have had the traveler get a bit too creative with potion making." he's too polite to say it or maybe even too embarrassed, but you can tell in his gorgeous red eyes that he needs something. before you can even open your mouth to offer help, maybe your hydro vision could cool him down some, his strong arms are wrapping around you and pulling you flush close to him. lips find yours as quickly as possible.

"i'm sorry," he groans after he breaks away. it isn't long before he's began stripping both of you, pushing you against his desk and uttering those words again. you try to lightly protest, informing diluc that he's not in the right state of mind, he cuts you off with a soft bite to your neck, fingers pressing against your slick cunt. and when he husks your name against your ear in the way that always makes you weak in your knees, you lose all reasoning as you let him fuck you against his desk.

"i know, i'm sorry, need you so badly - ugh, such a good girl for me. fuck. gonna fill you up over and over again."

ii. kaeya

"kaeya," you beg as you stare up at him with desperation and you squirm on your place on his bed. "kaeya, please." the consumption of an aphrodisiac was accidental and all your instincts told you to go to the ever so kind calvary captain for help. he's smart, after all - he would have a solution.

except now, you're not quite sure what that solution is - or really, you just don't want to say it out of pure humiliation. your studies have always been botany, that you should have been a bit wiser to whatever you put in your mouth. but alas, science wins over mental logical any day.

he's grinning at you, from ear to ear as he looms over you.

"my, what a mess you've made of yourself." he teases as he climbs onto his bed - his fingers tantalizingly stroking what skin he can reach. "and of my bed."

"hurry up," you plead. there is a look in kaeya's eye as he pushes you down on your back.

"precious, i don't think you're in the right position to be making demands." but he obliges anyways, hands wandering to your breasts. you're in for a very long afternoon.

"keep begging me, precious, and maybe i'll let you cum. look how pretty you are like this, all needy and desperate for me. would be a shame if we neded this too soon, yes? you can go one more round for me."

iii. arlecchino

you think she might be mad, with the way she's looking at you - maybe even displeased. you're not sure, but all you know is you want and she is right there.

"who drugged you?" it's clear she's trying to maintain some sense of composure, though you're not sure if she's going to be able to maintain such a prim and proper state as you squirm and try to soothe your too hot body with the coolness if your hydro vision.

"i uh -" you try to find the words, feeling the humiliation creep up on you. "n-nobody."

"nobody?" you nod. arlecchino doesn't seem to believe you, but she strides over to you anyways. of course not, you want to say. nobody would ever dare lay a finger on the knave's most precious person. she sighs as she looks over you. "i suppose it can't be helped." you tremble as she touches you - you're not sure if it's out of fear or lust, either way, your thoughts stop when she kisses you.

you're soon on your hands and knees, your tongue working at your soaked cunt as a clawed hands grip at your long hair, the other at your throat. you grind desperately against her shoe, trying to chase the coil that's only started to tighten in your stomach. all you can think about is arlecchino, how wonderful she tastes on your tongue, how you would do anything for her - oh how you need -

"no getting off - this is a punishment, my little gem. there we go. oh you're growing tired? weary? that's too bad, the lesson needs to stick about consuming strange things. work harder to please me."

iv. the wanderer

hunger, that's the term you can apply to the way he's looking at you right now. hungry. he knows, because of course he knows - nothing ever escapes his perceptive eyes. and he looks pleased, worst of all, with your flushed cheeks and soft whines as you try to get yourself off. you didn't dare go to him, because you never know how he's going to react.

of course, he's a welcomed presence - with the way he's reverently kissing you and touching you everywhere he can. you gasp out his name, hips bucking the moment his lips touch your needy cunt. it doesn't take long for him to get drunk on it, lips, mouth, fingers working at you until you're mewling and moaning mess, debauching his face as you move your hips.

slow, closed circles around your clit as you clenching around his fingers as you cum and he looks thrilled. pants off, cock erect - he keeps you pinned with his inhuman strength as he slowly enters you. it doesn't really dawn on you that no protection is being used as you bliss out when his cock fully enters you.

this, you think within the fog of your mind as your legs wrap around his hips. is where i belong.

"what a slut, accepting drinks from strangers like that. you're so stupid but you're lucky i love you. i'm going to breed you - don't think i won't. you'll be mine, permanently. mine, all mine."

#genshin scenarios #diluc x you #diluc x y/n #diluc x reader #genshin x reader #kaeya x you #kaeya x reader #kaeya x y/n #arlecchino x you #arlecchino x y/n #arlecchino x reader #wanderer x y/n #wanderer x reader #wanderer x you #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #diluc #wanderer #arlecchino #kaeya #yandere wanderer #ordo.text #ordo.txt

[simphornies]

A/N: The final part! This was definitely a ride. I hope you all enjoy! Who knows...Maybe I'll write an epilogue <3

Word count: 3k (3,038) Warnings: violence, reader goes kinda crazy for a little bit, nifty behavior

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

Deal Breaker [ Vox x Angel!Reader ] FINALE

“Alastor!”

The voice was all too familiar. Vox opened his eyes to see your silhouette in the dust and smoke. Your hands were stretched out to your side, blocking any attack from landing on him. He didn’t want to believe it but you were really there. In front of him. He was speechless.

“Alastor stand down!” You screamed. “He’s had enough. He won’t be another voice in your broadcast. I cannot allow it.”

Alastor shrunk down to his regular form, disappointed but compliant. His ears lay flat on his head showing his discontent but it quickly faded away as soon as he saw your wings weren’t lifted. They were dragging behind you. “Y/N, my dear, your wings…” Worry laced his voice, something nobody had ever expected.

“I’m fine. I need to tend to everyone else. But first-” You turned your body to face Vox, “I need to deal with the Vees.” You looked him in the eye and Vox broke at the sight of seeing you in that state in front of him. Only four of your wings were up while two were down, golden blood covering them. Your eyes were puffy and filled with tears but you didn’t look sad. He opened his mouth to speak but the pain caught up to him. He coughed out blood and clutched the crack across his screen before powering down.

You caught him before he hit the floor and carried him in your arms. “Bring them all inside. Lucifer, we’ll fix the damages as soon as I deal with this bullshit.” He simply nodded and made the two Vees float on in while you carried Vox inside. You were gentle when you set Vox down on the couch while Lucifer dropped the other two, making them exclaim out in pain.

“Did you have to drop me on my face?” Valentino complained. Lucifer shrugged and gave him a smug look, “Whoops!” He laughed, making Valentino growl.

“Watch it, moth.” You hissed. You stood up tall and loomed over them, your wings fully spread out with the exception of two. Your heavenly glow made them squint in response. Maybe it was the adrenaline but you felt no pain. “I must applaud the audacity the two of you had.” You knelt down and grabbed their faces harshly. “To no avail, of course. But the attempt was there, though not something to take pride in.” You pushed their faces away in disgust, wiping your hands off as if they were the filthiest things you’ve ever touched. You began to pace around them with your hands behind your back. “Tell me, demons. Do you value your lives now? Do you value your power? Your status? Your money?” You asked. They didn’t respond.

Your hair and wings were covered with eyes as you flared up at them, “I asked a question.” You stabbed each of their legs with two angelic daggers, “Please. Do answer.”

“Yes.” They said in unison, breathing unevenly due to the pain.

The hotel staff felt fear watching you lose composure. It was a rare sight and nobody dared to speak up. Besides Lucifer. “Yeah you tell ‘em, bitch!” He cheered you on, making Charlie face palm at the comment.

“I suspected so.” You smiled sweetly at them, the same smile you give every sinner you’ve met. But this smile was a facade for you felt pure unbridled rage at the fact that they thought they could bring this tower down with meager attempts. You pulled the daggers out, making them scream.

“How about we make a deal?” You offered, hand held out knowing they wouldn’t even be able to shake it.

“What do you want?” Velvette asked, voice shaking.

“Nothing much. I just want you both to never fuck with us again and never even think about doing so. And…” You trailed off.

“And?” Valentino’s voice was shaky too. Angel Dust found pleasure at the sight, sneaking in a photo.

“And your souls, of course!” You happily exclaimed, folding your hands together. Their eyes widened before glaring at you.

“And what if we say no?” Velvette contested.

“Well…That certainly is an option. Of course, you can say no.” You hummed, pacing around them once again. “But know that once you do…The power, the status, the money, your businesses…Well. They will simply no longer exist!” You smiled.

“Wh-what?” Valentino’s voice was small. He was terrified.

“You fucking bitch you can’t do that!” Velvette screamed and tried to jump at you. You flicked her away effortlessly with your wing, sending her back down with Valentino.

“Ah but I can, my sweet sinner!” You smiled at her, “The King of Hell can make that entire building disappear with a snap of a finger! Isn’t that right, Luci?”

Lucifer nodded and stood with pride, his hands on his hips, “Sure can! Effortless too.” He grinned.

“And without this deal in place, Alastor will be free to do whatever his morbid little heart desires with you two!” You spin around happily, “Why, that would make a fantastic broadcast, don’t you think so, Alastor?”

“It would be one of my best ones!” He grinned, his aura darkening.

“Fine! Fine.” Velvette gave up, “We’ll make the fucking deal.”

“Wonderful choice!” You clapped, “Nifty, dear! Come here please.”

Nifty came running to your side, laughing maniacally.

“Oh fuck why is she here?” Valentino tried his best to squirm away from the little demon child, fearing his life.

“Because! You’ll be giving her your souls.” You gave them an innocent look.

“WHAT?” Everyone, with the exclusion of Lucifer, Alastor and Nifty, screamed in unison.

“Who would own you better than this one here? She hardly cares for such things and I do believe that it would be such a wonderful gift for her. She’s done so much for the hotel and I think I should award her with something more…hellish!” You placed your hands on Nifty’s shoulder, “Do you want to own your own souls, Nifty?”

She nodded excitedly, “Ready!” She cackled. “I want my own souls.”

Velvette and Valentino were sweating in fear, a little bit terrified of the tiny one-eyed demon. “Ah but of course, if you try to do anything to her. Well…Let’s just say you’ll get what you give!” You pushed Nifty closer. With a snap of your fingers a written contract appeared in front of the two Vees and they were allowed to hold the pen that came with it.

“Sign right there on the line stating that your soul is now ours combined. There’s quite a couple of fine prints in there though I don’t think you’d need to read it considering you will never harm this hotel, its staff and whoever they’re involved with ever again.”

Velvette and Valentino signed their souls away, their scleras turning black. Lucifer released them from their binds and you shook their hands. “Wonderful doing business with you two!” Your smile quickly dropped to a glare. You wiped your hands as soon as you let go of them. “Now go home.”

Velvette and Valentino wasted no time leaving the hotel, almost tripping over the mess they created on their way out. For a moment, it was silent. Alastor stood by, impressed at your devilish behavior. Angel Dust was relishing in the fact that you kicked Valentino’s ass, showing off the photo he took to Husk. Nifty just went straight to sweeping. Charlie and Vaggie ran to you, giving you a tight but careful hug.

“Y/N…I thought we lost you.” Charlie sobbed. You hugged the two back, your healthy wings wrapping around them.

“It’s going to take a lot more than that to get rid of me. I wouldn’t have made it out okay without you guys.” You smiled. You pulled away and wiped the tears in Charlie’s eyes, “It’s okay, Charlie. I’ll be fine.”

Lucifer claps his hands together, “So…” He smiles, “Should we get to fixing or…”

You laughed at him, “Yes. I’ll catch up with everyone. I have one more person to deal with.” You looked at Vox, your heart heavy. His screen was off, sparks still flying out of his screen. “Before you all leave though, do we still have Sir Pentious’ tools and manuals?”

.

Vox powered back up. He winced as his body still remembered the pain from the earlier fight. He looked around the unfamiliar room on an unfamiliar bed. He sat up slowly and as he did, he caught a glimpse of himself in a nearby mirror. His screen was fixed, not up to his standards, but he didn’t have the crack across his screen anymore. His screen was completely replaced. His ears finally caught on to the sounds of construction outside.

You opened the door to your room with some books on how to fix screens. Upon seeing Vox awake, you dropped them and ran to his side. “Vox! You’re awake. How’s your screen? Does it feel okay? Despite my lack of knowledge on fixing technology, I did my absolute best to fix the crack. The wiring-”

Vox cut your rumbling off by pulling you into a tight hug. He held you with fear that he might never get this chance again. He was afraid that if he let go, that’ll be the last he’ll ever see of you. It wasn’t until he felt you hug him back that he relaxed and sobbed into your shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Was all he could muster in between his cries.

You let him ride his emotions out, not letting go until he calmed down and stopped glitching. When he did you pulled away from him. “Vox…”

“I know! I lied. I lied about a lot and…And I let my pride stop me from coming sooner.” He started, “Even if you don’t believe me, please give me a second chance and your trust when I say that I am so fucking sorry. You opened my eyes a lot and I’m sorry.” He looked down with shame, unable to look you in the eye.

“Vox. I know. I get it.” You sat on the bed next to him, “I’ll admit that it pained me when I found out you lied about Alastor. I was shattered. I was stuck between choosing my dear friend and, well, you. If I’m being completely honest, trusting you again after that…that elaborate and evil plan is difficult.”

He sighed, guilt engulfing him.

“But, if there’s one thing I learned here that I didn’t in Heaven is that everybody deserves a second chance.” You said softly. He finally looked up at you. You weren’t looking at him but instead you looked at the group picture that everyone took together when you first arrived. “I’m going to need an explanation, a detailed one and then…” You turned to face him, “And then we’ll make that deal.”

He looked at you dumbfounded. He didn’t understand why you’d give him another chance let alone reconsider the thing that started this all to begin with. “Y/N, I don’t care for that deal anymore. I want to make it up to you. For everything.”

“Let’s change that first one then.” You phased in the original contract you two had created when you first met and ripped the unsigned contract in half. “Promise me you won’t ever lie to me again and in return, I shall do the same.” You held out your hand to which he gladly shook.

“You have my word.” The deal was sealed as he shook your glowing hand. “Now…Let’s start from the beginning.”

It took a while for him to cover everything from the initial plan to how it ended up like this. He covered the first half quickly but slowed down at a certain point.

“And then when we came back from the hotel and you stayed in my building with me…” He trailed off. “Well I…”

You tilted your head to the side, “You…?”

“I came to the realization that I truly fell in love with you.” He confessed. Your face flushed in response.

“Me?” You gasped out, “No. You couldn’t have.” You awkwardly laughed, “What is there to love about me?”

“Look at your friends, Y/N! They truly admire you and trust you. You’re a being worthy of trust and love. You protected this hotel and left your home behind for sinners.” He began, “Your heart is a blessing. You’ve saved them outside of battle. You became their deal breaker, freeing them from their chains. Even when you’re hurt, you always do the right thing. You’re forgiving. Your beauty goes past your brain and your looks. Your entirety, your soul. It’s all beautiful. And anyone that can’t be changed by that is fucking stupid.”

You blush at his flattery, your heart pounding out of your chest. But he didn’t stop.

“And me? I didn’t fall in love with you for your power or for how pretty you look. Even if it did kickstart this whole thing,” He laughed, “You’re kind. You find joy in everything even in the worst places. You’re strong and resilient and your heart is in the right place. The look in your eyes when you saved me, it…it broke me in a way that I’ve never felt. I don’t want you to ever feel that pain again. And I don’t want somebody to try and pull the same shit I did to you. Allow me by your side, forever and always.” He held your hand, giving you a soft kiss on your knuckles, “And let me be yours as I want you to be mine. No bullshit attached.”

“Vox…” You smiled sweetly, tears in your eyes. “You speak such nonsense at times.” You laughed.

“It’s true, angel. I don’t know if it’s some magic of yours but, I’ll leave it all behind. You are my pride.”

“Vox. I adore you. I do. I fell in love with you with your acts of service, your gift giving. You truly spoiled me. As much as I absolutely want to kiss you right now, words are nothing but words. Actions are what truly matters.” You responded.

“I’ll do anything Y/N! I’ll lea-Did you just say you’d kiss me right now?” He paused, his screen warming up.

“Yes! I absolutely do. But you just…You hurt me Vox. You absolutely shattered me.” You got up and flared your wings at him. At that moment, he saw your injured wings. They were wrapped up with sticks holding them in one position to heal. “I thought you were going to die from all of that. And to think!” You started to cry in front of him, “To think my last thought of you would have been betrayal! Do you understand how badly that hurt me? You could have died and I would have been left wondering if you truly meant everything. If you truly did love me! And when I couldn’t reach you with this watch, I thought you were dead!” You were hysterical.

Vox got up, ignoring his pain and cupped your face in his hands. “I can’t tell you how much I want to stab myself right now seeing you cry over me.” He wiped your tears away and you’ve never seen such sadness in his eyes before.

You kissed Vox in the heat of the moment, your arms wrapping around him. He shut his eyes and kissed you back and for once it wasn’t filled with lust. He felt different. He felt love. Your crying ceased and you just held him close, not wanting to part with him.

“Help me trust you again. And then you’ll be mine as I’ll be yours, forever and always.” You smiled, wiping the remnants of your tears from the corners of your eyes away, “But can you please tell me how to properly fix you. I fear that my lack of skill with wiring affected you.”

He laughed and hugged you. “Is that really something you’re worried about right now?”

“Yes! I don’t know how much my heart can take if you catch on fire! And lay back down! You’re in no condition to be up at this moment.” You forced him back down, basically tucking him in. You held his hand in yours, this time you gave him a kiss on his knuckles.

Charlie came in to check in on you two and excitedly gasped at the sight of you two making up. She hugged you two a bit too tightly, making Vox groan in pain. “Oops! Sorry! I’m just so glad you two made up!” She exclaimed.

“Oh…Vox I may have forgotten one thing…” You trail off.

“What?”

“Well! Since the two other Vees kinda maybe sort of ruined our new building a little bit, I proposed to Y/N that you stay here at the hotel to make up for it!” She grinned.

Vox blinked and stared at her, and then to you, and back at her. “With…Alastor?”

As if on cue, Alastor teleported next to Vox on the bed. “Yes!” He grinned, a bit too menacingly for the situation. He screamed in response and almost fell off the bed. Alastor played a laugh track as soon as he heard the thump on the floor.

“Alastor!” You said with a scolding tone.

“Ah don’t fret, Y/N! I’m just having a little bit of fun!” He flipped on his stomach and started to kick his legs in the air, “I do just revel in watching others suffer! Haha!”

“Even if you’re not trying to get into Heaven, I think having you here will be a good start to becoming a better person!” Charlie smiled, “Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!”

Vox sighs, “Alright alright, I guess I’ll give this shit a shot for real this time.” He got up and rubbed the spot he landed on, “But seriously do not put me next to Alastor!”

You took his hand in yours, “You need not worry about that, Vox. You’ll be staying with me.” You smiled. “Oh and I own Val and Velvette’s souls now.” Vox didn’t know whether he should be shocked about staying in your room or the fact that his overlord friends lost so badly that they no longer own their own souls.

“...What.”

Taglist!: @emekeneme @ghostdoodlen @chewbrry @dawko-fanpage @lofasofabread @hxzbinwrites @rapunzelbro @elsihiaweee @blackrose8425 @dickmastersworld @lofasofabread @rosiethevoxobesser @themetalbabygirl @markster666 @riskyraiker @fadingflowers-world (it still won't let me tag the two of you)

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vees #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin hotel vox #slow burn #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin hotel fanfiction

[moon1ee]

there is something to be said about jimmy’s death. something to be said about a curse looming over his head that they keep mentioning, as if repetition will dull the pain, will cause the bleeding wound to scab over and form calluses. something to be said about bdubs throwing himself forward, shouting “KILL ME”, something about joel trying to sacrifice himself. the love was there. so was the fear. the canary sings a warning. then comes the bloodshed.

grian watches joel out of the corner of his eye, taking slow steps over the ramshackle bridge that looks over the server. joel sprints ahead, careless, movements strange and distorted, body tensed, fingers curling. the setting sun flashes red back into his eyes. a bloodied reflection. he is being reckless. he is going crazy. grian remembers last life, remembers passing through and hearing joel’s ear-spitting screaming, remembers cracking open a laugh as bloodlust that should not exist under stained green thrums through him. HOW ARE YOU DOING, JOEL, he called, and there is a snarl in response. “going a bit mad, going a bit MENTAL.”

joel was, in a word. dedicated. the best of them. the worst of them. grian remembers a pack of wolves, remembers fingers curling into pale fur, remembers agonized cries as the dogs fell.

he cannot ignore the similarities. run, rabbit, run.

he makes plans, he plots. he feels the time tick down. sends down explosives. one takes out four. he laughs, ear-splitting, thinks, i’m learning.

four. five. six. seven. he loses count. he doesn't stop.

joel’s teeth keep flashing.

grian sneaks down, around, ducks his head, whispers allyship to bigb and pearl, feels eyes humming around them.

he will not stop planning. he needs allies, in a place like this, after he loses his.

joel, he says, just kill me. the man glances at him, once, does not respond.

into battle they go. smoke rises in his lungs. scar, grinning, scar, falling, scar, protesting not to kill his beloved animal.

grian sees a creeper sneak up behind him, almost hisses a warning, stops himself. waits. watches. scar turns his head, jumps back, laughing. he has learned, too.

joel’s time is running out. grian runs after him.

joel is being reckless. he goes after scar. JOEL JUST KILL ME, grian shouts. "NO, NOT YOU," joel screams. "I'LL KILL HIM INSTEAD."

grian remembers a hand that stayed ever dedicated to the coming winter.

DO IT, and joel splits him, and then someone else, and then dies, the absolute fucking idiot, and they are. back where they started. or maybe right where they will end.

joel looks rabid in the moonlight. grian makes plans for when he is gone.

joel, just take one of my lives. just do it. "no," joel says, turning around, eyes searching frantically for something, for butter yellow canary wings that do not fill the space any longer, hands reaching to claw around grian's wrists, nails stinging, drawing blood. "you have to win," he says, pleads, begs, "for us. you have to."

grian says nothing.

joel is being reckless. he runs ahead. “scar-“ grian swallows down the name, frantic at the flash of red rushing off without him. JOEL.

lightning, singing his back. he turns. silent. shocked. remembers a hand’s agonized scream. remembers an attempt at revenge that ended him.

the bad boys were never that army of dogs in renchanting, were never loyal enough for it. too brittle, too untrusting, even jimmy. especially jimmy.

there is a tombstone. grian does not grieve. his sorrow is short-lived. he has a new alliance now, new loyalties. ones that may be smarter. it is for the best.

tick tick tick.

his wrists still ache.

edit: cross-posted on ao3!

#i am losing my utter mind i wrote smth really fast is this even good who knows #trying my hand at some prose or smth. idk. #bad boys #limited life smp #limited life spoilers #grian #joel smallishbeans #smallishbeans #mcyt #mcyt fanfic #writing #trafficblr #3rd life smp #jimmy solidarity #og post #goodtimeswithscar #gtws #desert duo #moonie writes

[admiringlove]

[17:45] . . .

when you look back on the past few weeks and see how your best friend has been acting, it makes you question almost everything you know about him.

sugawara kōshi wasn't a nervous guy—confident, even a bit of a charmer, you’d say. you'd playfully call him a goon because of how he is, but now, he's pulling away, leaving you puzzled. did you unintentionally cross a line during your last conversation? the uncertainty lingers as you wonder if a thoughtless comment pushed him away or if there's a deeper reason behind his sudden distance.

you see him in the hallways, and somehow it feels like there’s a mountain between the two of you. you lock eyes with him when you leave your afterschool club, and he turns away. just what had you done?

your heart ached at the sight. it sure didn't help that you were completely, irrevocably in love with him. if anything, it made things worse. so you decided to play it cool, be just like him. you'd stroll past him in the hallways without a second glance, hoping it would make your heart hurt a little less. intentionally leaving your photography club early, dodging the volleyball team dismissal, so he wouldn't catch a glimpse of your face. maybe it seemed a bit petty, but hey, he started it. you were just honoring his wishes, in your own way.

but one thought pricked your mind. cruelly enough, it never left your head.

what if he'd stumbled upon someone new? you recall seeing him in conversation with a charming girl from the class next to yours, sharing laughs during the break. what if he'd clued in on your feelings for him? was that the reason behind his avoidance too? if that held any truth, it only made a cascade of anxieties in your mind. what if, because of some trivial entanglement, you'd lost your best friend of five years?

the looming dread of losing him wrapped around your heart like a suffocating shadow. it wasn't just the prospect of a fading friendship; it was the fear that an unspoken emotion had inadvertently created a rift between you. the thought of him finding comfort in the company of another, laughing with someone new during recess, sent waves of unease crashing through you. the uncertainty gnawed at your core, leaving you in a state of perpetual restlessness.

and if he had broken your heart into multiple pieces and found someone new, you don't think you would simply stop loving him. it would be slow, and painful. you reckon you wouldn't be able to love someone new for a long, long time. forgetting him would be like a nightmare.

and yet, today remained unaltered. you exited the photography club room, observing as volleyball team members sealed the gym. sighing, you realized you were a little late this time. the first-years, particularly hinata, greeted you from a distance. you responded with a modest smile, delicately waving in return. trouble with suga was the last thing you desired, fearing your thoughts. what if he did found solace in someone else? the notion pierced your heart. deep down, you sensed that daichi, ever the astute observer, would uncover the truth about the unsettling connection between you and the serene setter.

but what you don't expect, is for all of them to walk toward you. you watched in inexplicable horror as the entire group followed the senior years' lead. hinata and kageyama, always fighting and messing around. nishinoya and asahi, talking about something with vigor and calmness at the same time. tanaka, bothering kiyoko with amorous words and her having no response to them whatsoever. yamaguchi and tsukishima, bantering about something with yachi listening in. the rest, talking to each other and watching the chaos of it all unfold.

and sugawara kōshi, in the front, looking right at you with an emotion you couldn't quite put a finger on. your throat went dry when you watched them greet you. you responded with a meek hello in return, deciding to join the group towards home.

your gaze nervously flits between kōshi and daichi up front, leading the group, as you join tsukishima and yamaguchi. the blond shoots you a knowing look with narrowed eyes, seemingly privy to your intentions. he begins to question you, but you widen your eyes in a silent plea.

he only rolls his eyes, "that won't work on me, senpai."

"i hate you," you groan, deadpan expression etched across your face.

he emits a dry chuckle, "let's be honest, i'm your favorite first-year, with an actual functioning brain," then his gaze shifts to hinata and kageyama behind you, throwing them the most disdainful side-eye he can muster, "unlike certain individuals we're acquainted with."

yamaguchi laughs, "that was uncalled for!"

yachi only shakes her head in silent reverie. you furrow your eyebrows at the blond, "you give yourself too much credit. i like yachi the most."

"oh yeah? even though i was the first to figure out you're practically in love with-"

a forceful shove to tsukishima's stomach elicits a resonant groan, catching daichi's attention as he glances back with a raised brow. you shoot him a knowing smile, smoothly carrying on with the conversation. yachi erupts into laughter, while yamaguchi discreetly covers his mouth with a hand.

"if you dare say the next part out loud, i'll make sure you won't set foot on a volleyball court for the next five months," you grit your teeth, a steely resolve in your gaze. the middle-blocker scoffs, "i'll report you to the authorities for battery and assault."

"i won't even let you get to the police station in one piece," you say, smiling innocently. he pouts softly, scoffing.

the remainder of the fifteen-minute walk passes with surprising ease. as tsukishima and yamaguchi bid farewell to the group, the middle-blocker casts you a knowing look, "here's hoping you won't turn into a nervous wreck when it's just the two of you later."

"thanks," you reply sarcastically, releasing an exasperated sigh. he chuckles as he saunters away, leaving the group now comprising only the first-years with tanaka leisurely strolling alongside. you nervously clutch the straps of your backpack, fiddling with them absentmindedly.

observing kiyoko and tanaka diverging from the group at the next turn, daichi follows suit when his home approaches. he graces you with a soft, reassuring smile. it weirdly offers a sense of solace, as though he senses the imminent solitude with suga or perhaps infers your feelings for the setter. regardless, you reciprocate the exchange, bidding your goodbyes.

and after an awkwardly silent five minutes, when your home finally comes around, you stop. he does too, looking at you with an expression you don't quite understand. his eyebrows are ever-so-slightly crunched, his lips beautifully pursed and his eyes look at you with so much longing that it almost physically hurts you to return the gaze.

"i-i, will see you tomorrow then," you say, clenching and unclenching your hand. he nods ruefully, but just as you're about to unlock your front door with your keys, you hear him say, "wait!"

you turn, eyes brimming with anticipation and worry, and you hum softly. he pulls you back to the road, and exasperatedly he says, "i need to talk to you."

"what for?" you ask, furrowing your eyebrows again. he lets out an almost annoyed sigh, "you've been ignoring me. and i don't know why that is, but seriously-"

"what do you mean, i was ignoring you?" you interrupt, almost offended, "you started it!"

"that's different! and besides, how many times have i told you to not interrupt people in the middle of their sentences?" he argues. you fume, pouting as your eyes turn glassy in a mix of emotions. you don't know what you feel. but you knew that there was definitely anger and fear involved.

"shut up!" you say, eyes threatening to spill in a fit of rage, "you were ignoring me and i thought i did something wrong!"

"what do you mean? i thought i said it was something entirely different! you did nothing, stupid!" he argues again. your lip quivers, and a few tears escape in anger, "stop yelling at me! if you just told me that you wanted space, none of this would have happened! it's your fault, idiot!"

his gaze softens, and he walks toward you. you have half the mind to take a step back, but it seems like he can read your thoughts. because he immediately clasps your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. the touch sends chills down your spine, making you question everything you've ever known. he sighs, so softly that it makes your heart flutter. and he places his hands on your shoulders, looking directly into your eyes as he says, "you did nothing, okay? in fact, i did something. and i felt the need to avoid you because i thought it would help. news flash, looks like it made things worse."

"i thought you hated me," you sniff, eyes red as you look at him, hands still clenched at your sides. he shakes his head, "i could never hate you."

"and then the other day," you continue, voice croaky, "then i saw you with that pretty girl at recess the other day. and i thought you replaced me, and i-i don't know, i just-"

his arms wrap around you tenderly, and he almost shoves your head into his chest. you groan, and he says, "sorry."

"no, um, i just.. i don't know," you say, voice muffled, "i thought you liked her."

"and why does that bother you?" he raises an eyebrow. you narrow your eyes, playfully shoving him, "you know already, don't you? why are you making this so much harder for me, you asshole!"

"oh, i don't know," he smirks softly, "maybe i just want to hear you say it."

"well, i'm not gonna," you cross your arms over your chest, "i hate you."

"i ignored you because i realized you feel the same way as me," he laughs softly, looking away. the wind picks up, and the orange light of the drooping sun almost reflects from him. his eyes look so ethereal as he smiles tiredly at you, and you blink profusely.

you stand there, confused, and he walks up to you, brushing a part of your hair away from your face. you furrow your brows, processing the information. but he only comes closer and closer, until his lips are inches from yours. he smiles softly, "i'm gonna kiss you now. stop me if you'd like, okay?"

"h-huh?"

kōshi's lips fall on yours, he leaned in and your breaths merge in a dance of shared vulnerability. your lips met tentatively, a delicate connection that held the weight of unspoken confessions. it was a kiss born from the depths of unresolved emotions, a fusion of longing and the bittersweet taste of the uncharted.

as your lips lingered in that ephemeral union, a myriad of emotions flooded the space between them—the ache of unrequited desires, the torment of what-ifs, and the sweet agony of a connection finally acknowledged. the emotions you felt were too complicated to explain in words.

"wait, so you don't like kimi from the other class?" you ask, confused when he pulls away. sugawara laughs delicately, shaking his head, "you're so dumb. yes, i don't like someone else. i like you."

"oh," your lips part, holding his face in your palms, "alright."

"stop ignoring me now?" he asks, hopefully. you nod, a slight blush cascading from your cheeks. and he takes a step backward, "i'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"okay," you smile softly.

© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

#haikyuu x reader #sugawara x reader #sugawara koshi x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu hurt comfort #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyu x reader #sugawara angst #sugawara fluff #haikyuu!! angst #haikyuu!! fluff #haikyu angst #haikyu fluff #haikyuu headcanons

[lunarw0rks]

I’m a bit hooked on the 141 guys as fathers.Can you write what the boys would be like if they tracked their daughter's location and found out she was in a random parking lot?

synopsis: it's thirty-past-ten; she's late.

maybe it's traffic, or maybe it's a late bus. then, why the hell is she in a parking lot?

PRICE

they were supposed to watch a movie together when she got home, so at first, he felt disappointed.

not upset with her, but the circumstances. checking his watch, price knew two things; she was late, and if she showed up now, he'd be too exhausted to finish a two-hour film.

but after checking the tracker, all fatigue practically left his body. he expected to find her sitting in traffic but instead spotted her in a shady lot on the mini-map.

drove over there, eyes constantly flickering over at the screen as he traveled with purpose.

anger wasn't what he felt yet, despite how stern he could be at times. what if something was wrong? who was she with? what if she was taken, and it was only her phone left in the car?

his years of captures and hostages and loss were truly infecting his mind, but it wasn't an outrageous fear to have concerning a teen daughter.

point-blank, she shouldn't be out here at night. and if he had it his way — not out at all past eight. but she was growing up, capable of free will, and price could never deny her that.

as he drove, he left her voicemails, urging her to call him back. though he wanted to scream, his voice remained an eerie calm. "call me, sweetheart. 'm on my way to you now. please."

SIMON

the quickest acting of all of them, and definitely the most enraged.

his mind is already in the worst of places when she's out — so having a genuine reason to be worried; he's losing his mind.

without texting or calling her, he's speeding down the road before he knows it, already having the location memorized from his short glance.

simon pulls into the lot and spots her. no, them. a small group of teens huddled under a streetlight.

"goddammit." he hisses under his breath, torn between relief and paternal fury. some of them scatter at the sight of a dark vehicle, thinking it's the police, others look up with curiosity. his daughter only sighs, recognizing the car.

he walks with purpose, fists clenched at his sides. "all of you, go home." it's a simple order, and the rest of them are too intimidated to argue.

grabs his daughter's bag and walks back to the car, hearing her follow him without bickering.

she knows better than that, at least.

before he opens the passenger door for her, he looms over her, "are you outta your mind? you were supposed to be home an hour ago. just get in the bloody car, kid."

simon never yelled at her; the sternness was enough.

SOAP

completely livid, purely because it wasn't her he didn't trust — it was the world she lived in.

it's no secret, soap can be a bit of a hothead. especially involving those he loves. with children, it's a whole other level.

similar to simon, he drove there as quickly as the law would allow — and then some. his tires screeched when he pulled in, finding her sitting in her car.

assessing the situation, he found nothing abnormal or dangerous, and that pissed him off.

startling her, he knocked on the window, "open the door, missy. 'm in no mood for games." she does, hesitantly, because his daughter knows that she's in the wrong.

there was no real reason to be skipping out on her father, other than a streak of teenage edginess. and unfortunately for johnny, he had a bout of that himself.

she fumbles her way through an explanation but does little to ease soap's distress. anything could have been wrong, let alone the fact that she was sitting alone in a parking lot. "tell you wha' — you can follow me home. probably yer last time driving for a while."

he preached independence for his kids yet loathed not having them in his sight all hours of the day.

GAZ

wasn't in a perfect spot with his daughter when it happened.

it wasn't a complete shock to find her skipping out on him, especially after all the bickering.

the arguments weren't serious — until they were.

gaz is a stricter parent than he appears, especially with his daughters and especially as they get older.

luckily, the lot is within walking distance of their home, so he wasn't completely distraught.

finds her on the ground against the building, knees to her chest and sulking over the spat.

kyle is very blunt when he approaches her. "we can do this here all night, or we can argue at home. tell me your answer now so i don't waste my time."

"sure, dad, that's what i need; to be micro-managed some more." his daughter huffs, rising to her feet. she surely got his attitude. it was like arguing with a mirror, and he loved/hated it.

his eyes roll, and he isn't in any mood to actually argue with her, let alone in the middle of a dim lot. "i'd rather you hate my guts safe in your room. now let's go."

—

༉‧₊˚. divider cred. - cafekitsune ⊹。

#rachel speaks #mw2 #call of duty #task force 141 #141 headcanons #141 hcs #cod headcanons #cod hcs #mw2 hcs #mw2 headcanons #task force 141 x reader #141 task force #tf 141 #mw2 fanfic

[earlgreylatte]

His Völunder

Lots and lots of spoilers below

Jack the Ripper

Chamomile tea wasn’t exactly your first choice, but the aromatic beverage at least lets you keep your composure as your older sister, Brunhilde approaches your seated form.

It was your turn.

You wonder if your other sisters were collectively letting out a sigh of relief right about now, thankful they wouldn’t be the ones chosen for this round.

Not because they feared their end. No, not that. You had all agreed to put your lives on the line for the sake of humanity, as is the duty of the Valkyrie. Even if it would mean the end of your existence, even if it meant you would lose one another, even if the battlefield would be your last sight.

No, it was because of who would be humanity’s fighter against Hercules.

“Am I your least favourite sister or something?” You drawl out, finger tracing the rim of your cup, before placing it down with a resounding clink.

It’s cold now.

You don’t look back as Brunhilde stood above you.

She calls your name, but rather than the usual exasperation that would take over her tone when dealing with you, there was something more fatalistic in her voice, so lacking in emotion, that made even her acknowledgment of you sound like a warning. You glance up at her, leaning back in your chair to properly shift your body to see that her eyes definitely matched her despondent tone.

“You have gave your vow to put your life on the stake and I have decided you will be the one to fight next. Now isn’t the time—“ Brunhilde asserts, and you have no doubt that she’d give you a proper verbal lashing if you didn’t cut her off.

“Relax, sis. I’m not going to run away, I’m just making a fuss because you’re really putting me in a tough situation. To slay a beloved hero or to die alongside a villainous fiend; I’m the only one of us to face this particular…dilemma,” You muse aloud, looking in your sisters eyes to see a slight ounce of guilt or even sympathy. You don’t.

You sigh, “To pick him…The means may justify the end to you, but this isn’t the hero humanity wants, especially against Hercules. Can’t you…” You trail off as a shiver passes over your neck, before you whirl around in your seat, to see him.

Jack the Ripper.

Who just heard you state your very clear reservations against him. Who has a very overwhelming…presence.

He loomed above you, somehow making his way right next to you without you noticing with an shadowed expression that quickly lightens into something more amicable as your gaze catches his mismatched one. By all means, he looked more docile than you were expecting, appearing like any well dressed gentleman, with deceptively gentle eyes and an almost sincere smile.

To your shock he kneels down onto one knee, grasping your hand. His grip firm but not painfully so.

“My dear lady,” He kisses your knuckle, glancing up at you, “It seems you are the Valkyrie I am to be partnered to.”

You gap in shock, before regaining your senses. “Hey,” you gasp out, before using both hands to yank him up, you let out a choked laugh at the absurdity of your situation, “No need to work your charms on me, I’m not going to run…And you can let go now.”

The man now upright once again, tilts his head, before unfurling your hand from his. “You have quite the strength, but for an alluring lady, such as yourself, I am sure you are full of surprises.”

What a flatterer.

You huff at his strange behaviour before turning towards your sister, “Hilde, no need to linger, we’ll be at the battlefield shortly.”

You expect her to protest, maybe out of doubt or even concern of leaving you with a strange man, or to even say her possibly last words to you, but she only nods. “Very well. You shouldn’t linger too long either. Remember your responsibilities.” You can only mutter a complaint before she departs, glancing back at the notorious killer.

“Sit down for a bit, we still have time,” You gesture at the spot across from you, watching close as he takes a seat with a certain poise. You didn’t think there would be an elegance to simply sitting down, but being wrong was something you have grown used to today.

“I’d offer you a cup of tea, but it’s cold and gross.”

He lets out a chuckle, eyes twinkling with mirth, “I appreciate the hospitality, nonetheless. While I do not mean to question your graciousness, I am quite intrigued by your change in demeanour.”

You sigh for maybe the hundredth time today but certainly not the last, leaning forward to place your face between your hands languidly. “I’m just trying to figure out how I’m supposed to ‘become one’ with an obviously…morally dubious individual, such as yourself.”

“Now, I am quite sure it will be simpler than you think,” He matches your posture, resting his chin above his locked hands, eyes meeting yours again, searching. You have to suppress a flinch at being at his full attention.

“Then you’re dumb.” You reply bluntly while the weirdo seems to look absolutely charmed for whatever reason, leaning back again as if to take you in your entirety. “In all honesty, I don’t want to die, especially alongside you. I don’t want to die because Hercules crushes you like a bug. And I definitely don’t want to die with my last sight being a cheering audience and my last meal being this oversteeped excuse of tea.”

Maybe you’re not as selfless or righteous as your sisters, and maybe that’s why Brunhilde too cruelly left you in his hands.

You abruptly snatch the abandoned cup of tea, and take a large gulp of leftover chamomile tea in a rather unladylike way, before tossing it aside, ignoring the sound of shattering ceramic. In a quick motion, you use your arms and knees to climb across the table, until your nose brushes his.

“My, this is rather unexpected—“ He falls silent as you wrap your hands around his neck, your grip unyielding but not enough to really choke or inhibit him.

“I don’t want this all to be for nothing. I doubt you care about humanity, you probably have your own screwed up reasons for being here. I don’t really care. We will not loose this fight. I refuse to let it end like this.” You declare, eyes locked onto his, feeling blood thrum beneath your fingers.

And he…

And he gazed upon you with wide eyes, definitely shocked at your brazen behaviour. It was almost like he was looking through you but somehow still managing to catch every inch of your visage.

His hands reached up to match yours, not even attempting to remove yours, but simply resting them, as his fingers curl against your own.

He almost looked reverent, his lips curling into a smile that was surprising angelic for a man like him.

“I told you,” He starts, his tone breathy, a stark contrast to his silver tongue, “This will not be hard, at all.”

And like that, your physical form dispersed into threads that wrapped around his hands.

“What a beautiful colour,” He whispers into the empty room, flexing his fingers, almost admiring his now gloved hands.

“It’s just a normal pair of black gloves, wouldn’t say there’s anything remarkable about it,” You drone, your voice passing over him as you reside at the core of his very being.

“I wasn’t referring to the gloves, darling,” He replies, finally moving to make his way to kill a god.

And kill a god, he did. While it was the longest battle yet, and you almost jumped out of your skin throughout the battle only being able to yell at and scold Jack for his risky tactics, he still won.

Yes, Brunhilde definitely expected this outcome.

As he looked up, seemingly at a loss for words at Hercules’ end. You regained your form, slightly cringing at the mixture of Jack and Hercules’ blood marring your skin and clothes.

You exhaled, looking up into the sky, knowing you aided in the demise of one the kindest beings to grace mankind. Green wisps of light ascended above, both you and Jack watching the final remnants of Hercules disperse.

He looks back at you, his eyes meeting yours once again, “It seems we survived like you wished for. How do you fair, milady?”

“You’re asking me that? I’m more curious about our latest godslayer,” You retort, rubbing your hand against your bloodied cheek, scanning his various injuries.

“I cannot say, this feeling is utterly foreign to me,” he clenches his fist, returning his gaze back to the sky, with a wistful tone that seeps into you.

Can he not see how completely sad he is?

His expression remained as light as ever, but even without synesthesia like his, you could see the somber look in his eyes, almost mourning.

He was pitiful, that much you could say with certainty after performing völunder with him.

“That’s sadness,” You reply, watching to see any reaction, “You, like anyone else here, are feeling sadness at the loss of Hercules.”

“Am I?” He muses, turning back to you, smiling, his eyes as gentle as they were when you placed your hands around his neck.

“What are you grinning at? You do realize you’re bleeding out, right? Are you perhaps delirious from blood loss?” You remark, breaking eye contact, still feeling the burnt of his eyes on you, nonetheless.

“Your colour is certainly unique,” He replies, simply.

You turn back to him, taking in his appearance, he looked different in your eyes from your first meeting. Even excluding his injuries and battered form.

You approach him after a moment of contemplation, with a lowered voice.

“You shouldn’t have pretended to be Jack the Ripper, would have saved you a lot of trouble and grief. While you’re not infamous, that would still be better than everyone rooting against you. I think the only one who cheered for you was drunk.”

He looks surprised for some reason, as if forgetting your very souls converged.

“That…” He seems to trail off, still caught off guard, before smiling in an irritatingly sad way. “In the end, the two of us have committed the same atrocities.”

Really now…

You sigh, “You really are pitiful. You should hurry to the medbay before you actually die. Don’t forget, you let yourself get impaled.” Without another word, you take to the air.

“As you wish, madame.” He mutters, amused, looking at your retreating form for a second more, before making his way through the replicated London.

While you had decided to leave by yourself to clean up, you turned back, and as expected, Jack was facing the malice and grief of those who loved Hercules. Adults and children alike pelting stones and whatever else they could grasp at him.

It was moments like these where you wonder how gods can’t see their similarities with humans. Grief and retribution seemed to be inherited feelings.

You hesitate for a second before cursing, descending next to him, plucking his knocked off hat from the ground as rocks rained from above.

“You…came back?” He looks stunned, as you move to place his hat to its rightful place and you have no doubt why.

Today was probably the first day someone even said “I love you”, to him so this is probably the most somewhat positive interaction he’s ever had.

“I’m just as responsible as you, so might as well face the music together,” You respond idly, kneeling down to loop his arm around your shoulder and hooking your arm across his waist before slowly standing up to make your trek to exit the arena.

“I would have to vehemently disagree with that notion,” Jack mutters, his voice finally betraying his weakened state. The fool tries his best to hold his own weight, but you only scowl, and use the arm at his waist to tug him closer.

“Forget that. How about you try learning a new song? I think ‘London bridge is falling down’ will forever be engraved into my head,” You complain finally reaching cover as you leave the storm of rocks, shouts, and sobs.

Jack laughs before wincing, “It is simply a song that I cherish, my fair lady,” He looks fondly at you once again as you let out a groan at his choice of endearment.

“Wasn’t expecting you to be such a sap,” You avoid looking at his face as you two see a med team quickly approach, carrying a stretcher. “Well, this is where we part, Jack, or whatever your real name is.”

“And I suppose you plan to fix yourself a proper cup of tea now?” He asks as you two detach for the nurses to fret over him, no doubt remembering your earlier conversation.

You grimace, remembering the taste.

“Hmm, I doubt it. I don’t think tea is for me, after all ,” You hum, turning away before you feel his slender fingers wrap around your wrist. Startled, you look back, only for him to pull you toward him, stumbling as your hands meet his chest. You try to detach yourself from him before he strains himself further, but Jack simply wraps his arms around you in a manner too bold for a man of his era.

“Idiot, what are you doing—!?” You begin to reprimand him, but his voice instantly and embarrassingly silences you.

“Allow me the honour to brew you some tea. I’m quite fond of darjeeling, myself. I think you would enjoy it too,” He interrupts you, looking down at you with those sappy eyes that you definitely hate.

“F-fine!” You stutter, trying to avoid the curious gazes of the nurses, quickly shoving him into the strecher, “But worry about the hole in your stomach first!”

You finally turn around, speedily escaping the prying eyes and giggles of the nurses.

“As you wish, my fair lady,” He calls out, and you can hear the smile in his voice as you let out a small noise of annoyance at his audacity, ignoring the heat that spread to your ears.

At least his spirits have returned, you think, fighting back a smile.

As confirmed in the side story series, “The Jack Ripper Files”, Jack isn’t actually the og ripper as a lot of people have already guessed since his behaviour in the main story obviously doesn’t match a vulnerable women killer. No, he actually killed the real Jack the Ripper who was about to kill a young orphan girl. Like he still has a weird desire to kill (pretty sure some organization (maybe government) seems to give him targets (it’s a win-win, he gets to kill, and they get the job done)) and is obviously not morally good but he wouldn’t go after innocents especially prostitutes, like his pseudo mother Anne. But he still takes on the moniker for Ragnorak since he has killed one. Also, even before the ripper thing, he seems to use Jack as a fake name anyway, probably after his father seeing how he wears his stolen hat.

Any interaction would be appreciated! I plan on writing a Qin Shi Huang and Nikola Tesla version next!

#record of ragnorak #shumatsu no valkyrie #record of ragnarok x reader #ror x reader #shumatsu no valkyrie x reader #snv x reader #jack x reader #ror jack the ripper #snv jack the ripper #artist of death x reader #ror jack x reader #snv jack x reader

[everydayyoulovemeless]

How do you think Ulysses(fnv) would be in a relationship?

Romantic Ulysses HCs

➼ Word Count » 0.7k ➼ Warnings » Possessive? ➼ Genre » Romantic

Ulysses has a habit of being a bit controlling in his relationships. Something inside him makes him feel as if he needs to loom over his partner's shoulders at all times. Maybe it's the fear of losing them as he's lost everything else, or maybe he's just a naturally protective person. Either way, he'd prefer if you stayed close to him.

He likes to log down his favorite aspects about you. He'll keep a journal and write down the features and habits he likes best. There are pages and pages of your characteristics that he adores.

He’s a tad manipulative when it comes down to a relationship of any kind. In his mind, he sees himself as a savior who needs to protect and defend you at any cost necessary, and that’s exactly what he intends to do. Weird complex, an even weirder boyfriend.

He finds out as much as he can about you—any legal document, family history, friends, ideals—he thinks they’re all vital to truly understanding you as a person, even if you don’t remember any of it yourself.

He’s a very romantic guy, all things considered. He especially likes to write poetry for you on any surface he can find. Usually, it’s just scrawled on a note, but sometimes you’ll find declarations of love on random walls of his temple or dispersed throughout the Divide.

He'll frequently grab your face to make you look at him. Normally, he's gentle, but every now and then he'll get a bit rougher with it.

Ulysses is one of those people who would want matching tattoos with his significant other. He doesn’t date casually and would expect you to be aiming for eternity when you get with him, and a tattoo is a perfect way to show your dedication to the relationship. Why wouldn't you want one?

A lot of his dates will be him taking you camping. You’ll both walk into a random location and set up a small shelter once it finally gets dark. He thinks it’s nice to be able to get out and experience nature and all it has to offer, especially when it’s with you.

He also likes sitting in silence with you as he reads and you do whatever you need to—tinkering, repairing, upgrading, or even reading with him—he just likes to be near you while you do it.

He likes to come up behind you, wrap his arms around you, and kiss the top of your head. He likes keeping you close and never wastes an opportunity to show you he cares.

He's really gentle with you. His voice is noticeably softer, his touches are more delicate, and he's not as pushy as he might be toward someone else. He cares about you and he's willing to do anything to keep you.

Ulysses would be very interested in settling down with you at some point. Whenever's most convenient, he's not in a rush, but one day he'd like to own a house in a stable community where the two of you can just live out the rest of your lives together.

He fixes up ED-E to be a lot more durable than he already is so that he doesn't have to worry as much when you go out on your own. Of course, he'd prefer if he was the one with you rather than the pre-war bot, but he'll make do. ED-E literally won't ever leave your side due to the way Ulysses programmed him, so no more worrying about dying out in the desert, right?

He remembers a few traditions from his past and wouldn't mind teaching you if you were interested. He'd do your hair the way his tribe did, or give you the same markings he used to wear as a child. It never fails to make a, albeit faint, smile on his face when he sees you in the things the represent his home and his history.

Ulysses almost always has you on his mind and it's hard for him to get you off of it. He's never really had anything like it up until now and he intends to make it last for as long as he can manage. There's nothing that can separate the two of you, you were bound by fate, whether you recognized it or not.

#fallout #fallout new vegas #fnv #courier six #ulysses fnv #ulysses x courier #ulysses x reader #ulysses x courier 6 #ulysses x courier six #ulysses headcanons #fnv headcanons #fallout new vegas headcanons

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 4,019 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female!Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: flashbacks, current day is S10, The Reapers Warnings: language, violence, gore, angst A/N: This is Part 1 of a new commissioned miniseries! Thank you to @ankhmutes​ for their generous support! Summary: Daryl loses Y/N in Atlanta and her absence colors his years.

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Atlanta – About 10 Years Ago

He could feel your hands clasping his face, your thumbs moving lightly over the bruising and swelling. His eyes fixed on the pout of your bottom lip and then moved up to swim in the depths of your irises. Fingers in his hair, the weight of you against his chest, the pressure of your fingertips dimpling into his sides. He could almost taste your lips again. He could almost catch your scent.

“God, what did they do to you?” You threw your arms around his neck and he pressed his hands into your back to hold you tightly against him. He could feel the shuddering of your breaths and the wetness of your tears falling on his shirt. “I thought I lost you for good,” you managed, pulling back to look into his face again. Your eyes were round and glassy. “And then to find you—but this way—those men.” You were trembling underneath his hands.

Daryl ducked his head. “‘M sorry. ‘M so sorry,” he managed to croak out. “I didn’t know they—I knew they were bad but I never thought—”

You hastily clasped his face again, brushing his hair away. “Shh. I know. I know… It’s not your fault.”

His breath hitched in his chest and he melted down into you again, hugging you tightly against him. “I ain’t ever lettin’ go of ya again.” You’d kissed him and your lips tasted salty with your tears.

“Daryl. Daryl… Hey, Daryl!” Carol grabbed him by the shoulder and he startled slightly. Her furrowed brow was heavy over her blue eyes. Daryl snapped back to the present.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Sorry…”

Carol straightened up, but the concern didn’t leave her face. “You good?”

He ducked his eyes and nodded. He wasn’t, but he had to be.

She sighed and looked back out the window at the expanse of burnt buildings unrolled before them. “We’re gonna find them. Both of them. Y/N and Beth.” She glanced back at the archer. His expression was grim and worn. She could feel the fear and anxiety radiating off him. “They’re both strong. They’ll be okay.”

Daryl shook his head and stared down at his hands. He was anxiously fiddling with a bit of glass. “After the prison fell, when we found each other again, I told her I wasn’t ever lettin’ go of her… I promised. And then we had Terminus… and now this… Fuck,” he swore under his breath. “Separated by a bunch of walkers?” He shook his head and leaned heavily on his hand against the window. “I shoulda made her stay at the church with everybody. Shouldn’ta even brought her into the city.”

Carol let out a soft laugh. “Made her?” she said. “Daryl, we both know no one can make Y/N do anything. She’s just as stubborn as you. Maybe more, though I don’t know if that’s possible.”

Daryl only sighed and looked over at Carol. She could see something looming, weighing on him. “I gotta tell ya somethin’.” Her brow furrowed. “Y/N is pregnant.” Carol’s breath left her in a whoosh of air. Daryl gulped, struggling to fight the tears in his eyes. “We just found out…”

Carol mustered her best smile. “You’re gonna be a dad,” she said. “Congratulations.”

Daryl paced a frantic circle, chewing on the side of his thumbnail. He turned and stared at Carol for a long moment, desperation on his face. “There were so many of them. What if she—what if she didn’t—”

“Hey. She did.” Carol grasped his shoulder hard. “She did. Y/N is a fighter. She learned from our best, you,” she said with a smile she hoped was reassuring. “She learned from you. And she’s smart. I’m sure she’s fine.”

Daryl ducked his head, his voice shaking, “‘M s’posed to protect her and I failed. I keep failin’ at it over and over.”

“Everything is going to be okay. We’re gonna find Beth and then we will go back and find Y/N. Okay? That is, if she doesn’t find us first.”

Daryl managed a nod, but that was all he had.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Noah limped up to the car and watched as Daryl frantically checked the area. “What are you looking for?”

“She’s—she’s s’posed to be here. Maybe she left somethin’,” he drawled, more to himself than anything. “She’s gotta be here.” He opened the gas cap and checked inside. Nothing. He looked on top of all the tires, under the hood. Nothing. He froze and pushed his sweaty hair back from his face. “Nah…”

Noah was looking around nervously. “It’s too open here. They could see us… We need to go. We have to go.”

Daryl slammed his fist down onto the hood of the car. How was it possible that he’d gone into the city on a rescue mission and lost two more of his family? He paced again, rubbing a hand over his face. He needed help. He needed the others. The last thing he wanted to do was leave the city, but he needed back-up. “C’mon,” he growled to Noah. “Let’s find a vehicle.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

“Daryl.” Rick’s voice behind him. “We can’t stay here any longer. We have to move on.”

Daryl’s hand clenched into a fist. “Ya think she’s dead, too,” he said. The gravel and grit was thick in his voice.

Rick passed a shaky hand over his eyes and then stared at Daryl’s crumpled posture.

“Go on then. Leave me here.”

Rick sighed heavily. “I can’t do that.” He paced closer. “I won’t do that. You are my brother. You belong with us. I won’t leave you alone here. We all need each other more than—” he had to pause as his voice broke. He swallowed the lump and tightness in his throat as best he could. “More than ever.”

“I can’t,” Daryl managed. He dug his fingernails into the soil and grabbed fistfuls, just to try to ground himself with something. He’d been back into Atlanta every day for a week and he hadn’t found a damn trace of you. Nothing. And he knew the group was only waiting for him… but they couldn’t wait forever. “I can’t leave—”

Rick appeared beside him. “You have to,” he said with a sigh. When Daryl didn’t move, Rick sank down beside him and stared out at the trees. The muscle in his jaw tensed as he tried to hold back emotion. He sat in silence beside Daryl with his devastation for a long time before he finally spoke again. “When I lost Lori… when Carl was shot,” he glanced over at Daryl, “I wanted to give up. God, I wanted to,” he said softly. “I did for a while. I lost myself.” His eyes drifted up to the slices of sky he could see behind the wavering leaves of the trees overhead. “But we don’t get to give up. We keep going, because we are still here. Our family is still here and we all rely on each other. We keep going because we have to.”

Daryl sniffled and hastily wiped his forearm over his face.

“So, come on, brother,” Rick said, climbing to his feet and extending a hand down to Daryl. “Come on. On your feet.”

Daryl glanced up at Rick’s hand, his blue eyes clouded behind tears. He almost didn’t grab it. But he thought of Carl, and Judith, and Carol… of Maggie’s loss and Sasha’s… People still needed him. He clasped it. Rick tugged him to his feet.

“She ain’t gone,” Daryl said, straightening up. “I dun believe it.”

Rick nodded. “But we can’t stay. If we stay here, we die.”

Daryl felt the emptiness in his chest expanding like a black hole. “I’ll come. But I ain’t givin’ up on lookin’. She’ll get outta the city. She will. She’s gonna find us or I’mma find her.”

Rick nodded again, but his heart sank into the bottom of his stomach, like it was weighted with a lead anchor.

_ _ _ _ _ _

About 9 and a Half Years Ago

Maggie saw that Daryl was still awake when she opened her eyes in the early hours after the storm. She stood softly and went to sink down beside him, looking over at the group scattered on the ground, sleeping. Their family. What was left of it. They’d lost Bob, Beth, Tyreese, and you. One after the other. Too many. Far too many… She glanced over at Daryl but he seemed to be pointedly looking away.

“He was tough,” he finally drawled, looking at Sasha sleeping across the barn.

“Yeah,” Maggie agreed. “He was.”

Daryl stared at his hands now, afraid to look Maggie in the eye and see her grief. “So was she,” he managed.

Maggie nodded. “Both of them were.” She put a hand on Daryl’s arm. “I’m sorry—in some ways, not knowing about Bethie, not knowin’ about what was happenin’ to her was worse than—than this… Wonderin’ if she was hungry or thirsty. Wonderin’ if she was scared. Just wonderin’…”

Daryl’s throat constricted into a knot. He nodded. “Ain’t no way those walkers took Y/N down… Ain’t no way. She’s too good for that.” Maggie heard the shake in his voice and sighed, leaning back against the rough wood of the barn wall.

“Then if she’s still out there, you two will find your way back to each other. I know it,” Maggie said. She glanced back over at him and mustered a sad smile. The pain on his face was clear. “Get some sleep, Daryl.”

After she walked away, Daryl laid down on his folded-up vest, but sleep didn’t come. His fingers found the rip in the side that you had stitched skillfully back together, tiny x’s of thread. They ran over and over it, just because your fingers had made it.

_ _ _ _ _ _

About 10 Years Ago

The group stepped in through the gate cautiously, following Rick’s lead, looking with shock at the near perfect suburbia suddenly unrolling before their eyes. Everyone that is, except Daryl. His boots seemed to have rooted to the concrete.

Rick saw Aaron looking back and glanced over his shoulder. The archer was frozen, staring in across the opening of the gate.

Aaron happened to catch Maggie’s eye, a questioning look on his face, but Maggie said nothing. Aaron glanced back toward Daryl. He hadn’t moved.

“Carl,” he murmured. “Take Judith for just a sec.”

By now the rest of the group had noticed too, and they’d all stopped to look back. Rick walked back out and stopped beside him, his back to the community now. He sighed heavily and swallowed the tightness in his own throat. “We do this together,” he said, glancing over to try and read Daryl’s expression. It was impassive except for a violent turmoil in his blue eyes.

“Daryl—we need you. We’re all trying this together. We’re all much safer if you’re with us.” He clapped his hand strongly onto Daryl’s shoulder and the archer ducked his head, clearly wrestling with tidal waves of thoughts and emotions. “Come on. With us.”

The muscle in his jaw twitched as he ground his teeth together.

“Come on.”

Finally, his boots started to move and he crossed the threshold of the gate into Alexandria.

_ _ _ _ _ _

“You oughta come in. Take some sleep.” It was Maggie’s voice behind him on the porch.

Daryl stubbed out his cigarette on the step next to him. “I can’t,” he drawled, so quietly she almost didn’t hear it.

Maggie paced over and sank down next to him on the step, linking her arms around her knees. “I know,” she said, ducking her eyes down toward the sidewalk. “I’m so sorry. I keep thinkin’ it too.”

“What’s that?” Daryl asked, flicking his lighter open and closed.

Maggie lifted her eyes up to the innumerable stars overhead and pulled in a long, slow breath. “That maybe if we’d just gotten here sooner they’d be here to see it.”

Daryl felt like a knife twisted in the middle of his chest. It was so painful he almost doubled forward, but instead he hung his head and tried to breathe through it. When he spoke again, the struggle in his voice, his emotion was clear. “I know what ya’ll think,” Daryl managed.

Maggie glanced over at him and even in only the dim haze from the porch light she could see the glassiness in his blue eyes. “About what?”

“About—about—” He clenched his hand into a fist and pushed his knuckles down on the edge of the step as hard as he could. The pain shot through all his fingers and up his arm. He couldn’t get your name out. He couldn’t say it aloud. “‘Bout what happened,” he finally croaked out. “Ya’ll think she’s—she’s dead. I ain’t stupid. I see the way everybody’s lookin’ at me.”

Maggie’s hand landed on Daryl’s and she gave it a friendly squeeze. “I don’t think that.” Daryl’s eyes snapped up to hers. “I don’t. Because after the prison fell, I knew Glenn was out there. Even when everyone else was thinkin’ the worst, I knew he was alive. And we found each other again.”

Daryl sniffled and ducked his gaze again.

“Don’t ever give up on that, if that’s what you know.” Maggie gave his hand one more squeeze and her footsteps retreated across the porch and back into the house.

Daryl’s eyes lifted up to the night sky, and he hoped somewhere you were looking up at the same stars at the same moment.

_ _ _ _ _ _

About 7 Years Ago

Daryl startled awake in the blackness of his cell.

A dream. It was just a dream reliving old memories. At the farm, the first time you’d shot a deer with a bow and tracked it on your own. You hadn’t even needed him. You’d followed the trail like an old pro. And then after… That’s when it had happened. Everyone else had gone to bed and he was sitting by his fire, his knife in his hands, turning the blade and watching the way the light bounced off the silver edge. And then suddenly—your soft footsteps behind him. He knew their cadence.

“I thought ya went to bed,” he’d said to you. You’d sighed and sat down on the round of wood next to him. He could feel your eyes on his face but he’d stared into the flames instead, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth.

“Nope,” you’d said. You just kept looking at him and he’d finally glanced over with his peripheral vision, barely turning, and it made you laugh. And your laugh made him smile. He’d ducked his head again though. Sometimes you were too bright to look at.

“What’re ya doin’ up still? Had a big day today,” he drawled.

You nodded. “Yeah. I often can’t sleep though.” You thought of the deer, of feeding your family. It had felt good. “It was a good day,” you sighed, moving toward him onto the edge of your round of wood. He’d nodded. It had been a good day. “I want you to know something, Daryl.” His name leaving your lips—it shot electricity through him every time like he’d stepped on a live wire in bare feet. His eyes met yours again. “You’re a leader of this group, even though you don’t feel like it. There are people looking to you.” He’d scoffed and shook his head, pricking his finger on the tip of his knife. “Don’t scoff. It’s true. Rick looks to you. Carol looks to you. And so do I.”

Daryl’s blue eyes met yours again and he watched the way the flickering firelight changed the shadows and highlights on your face. You looked steadily back at him. “And it’s not just because you’re good with a bow.” You suddenly scooted closer to him and smiled. “If it were, you’d be out of the job now because I—I am pretty damn good.” He’d laughed, the corners of his mouth tugging up, shaking his head at you. You were smiling at him. You seemed suddenly nervous and you glanced down at your laced fingers. He stared at the thick fray of eyelashes fanning out toward your cheeks. “I didn’t come over here just to brag about my newfound skills, though,” you said.

Daryl’s heart had jumped. He gulped nervously. “Why’d ya come then?”

Your eyes lifted, a little wide, and looked straight into his. “Daryl—”

He didn’t know what made him do it—maybe just the way you looked at him, the firelight, the stars, something in your voice, the electricity crackling in the air like fork lightning between you and him—but he suddenly dropped down on one knee toward you and was kissing you where you sat on that round of old oak wood, and to his amazement you were kissing him back fervently. Your fingers were in his hair and touching his bare skin, and he was clasping your face with one hand and resting his other hand on the soft skin of your upper arm.

Neither of you said anything for a long moment, but the light was sparking in your eyes and you were smiling at him and then biting your bottom lip. “Do you want to… come lay down with me? Maybe we’ll be able to actually catch some sleep.”

Daryl looked at you, baffled, but he nodded. “Hell yeah.”

It was just a memory, even if it was one of the best ones. He closed his eyes again, trying to empty his mind.

But suddenly in the dark he heard your voice.

“Daryl.”

He shot stiffly upright, pressing his back into the wall. The cold concrete was pressing into all his joints. They were stiff and painful.

“Daryl.” It was your voice again in the darkness.

Nah. Ya ain’t here. Ya ain’t here… I know that. Ya ain’t in here. Ya ain’t here… God, of all the places I hoped I’d find ya, this ain’t it. Ya ain’t in here with him.

Daryl swore you materialized just then, right in front of him. He could see you, see your softness, see the slope of your nose and shape of your lips in the narrow slip of light stealing in underneath the door of his tiny prison.

“No. I’m not in here with him. Or with you.” Your fingers ran down one of the strands of his hair and he could almost feel the gentle tug of it.

So, ‘m dreamin’ again. Or I’m finally batshit insane.

“You’re not broken, Daryl. They can’t break you.” You reached to clasp his face. He swore he could feel the warmth of your hand on his cheek, the light brush of your fingertips.

He couldn’t look away from your mirage. I’m barely hangin’ on in here. I can’t—

“You can. You’re stronger than any of them.”

Daryl felt wetness on his cheeks and realized he was crying. What happened to ya? Just tell me where ya are and I’ll get outta here somehow and I’ll find ya… Just tell me where ya are.

He could see glassiness in your eyes. “Just tell me where ya are!” This time he yelled it and it echoed in his ears, bouncing off the metal all around him.

“You’re going to be okay. Just keep going…” Your fingers were light under his chin and you were smiling back at him.

Don’t leave me. Please, dun leave me in here alone again.

“Hey. I’d never leave you alone. You know I’m always with you, no matter what. Just keep going.”

Y/N. Please—Y/N? Y/N!

More tears broke out over his cheeks, but the vision of you had vanished and he was back in the dark again. A quiet sob escaped him and he punched his fist into the wall until he couldn’t bear it anymore. He fell to the ground in a curled pile and cried as softly as he could until he had nothing left.

_ _ _ _ _ _

About Five Years Ago

“Hi,” Carol emerged out of the brush, ducking beneath a low hanging branch, Dog leading her.

Daryl glanced up at her. “Hey. ‘S’goin’ on?”

She lifted up a small pack. “Nothing. Brought you some supplies.”

He nodded, watching her carefully. “Thanks.” Carol set it down beside the fire and scratched behind Dog’s ears. “Ya wanna tell me why ya really came back out here?” He fiddled with the strap over the handle of his knife.

“Can’t I visit my best friend? Have you found anything?” Carol asked, hazarding a glance up in his direction.

He ducked his head and shrugged. “Not yet. Got more places to check still.”

Carol nodded and went back to petting Dog. He watched her expression darken and tense.

Daryl stiffened. “What? Why dun ya just say it?”

Carol stood up. “Say what?”

“Whatever it is ya really came out here to say,” Daryl said.

Carol sighed. “I just—I wonder who it is you’re really searching for out here. Rick or her or maybe yourself… Daryl, it’s been five years since Atlanta and you haven’t found a single thing… Two years since we lost Rick and—”

Daryl’s jaw clenched and he nodded. “Ya want me to move on with my life, right? Come back, stop bein’ out here. That’s really what ya want.”

Carol looked down at her boots. “I want you to find some peace. I don’t want to lose you out here, okay? I don’t want to lose you because you don’t know when to stop.”

“Peace?” His blue eyes bore into Carol’s. “There ain’t no peace for me, alrigh’? You know what I lost in Atlanta. ‘M glad ya found yer peace, but I dun think that’s gonna happen for me.” He slung his pack on over his back and his expression finally softened some. “Ya ain’t gonna lose me. I just got things to do out here…

_ _ _ _ _ _

One and a Half Years Ago

This was it. Maybe he’d managed to kill Alpha, he still wasn’t sure, but he was going to bleed out here on the floor. His vision was blurry and he fought the blackness creeping in from the edges as best he could.

Your face swam in his mind. Your smile. The texture of your hair between his fingers. The feeling of your silky skin and the curve of your spine when he’d trace his hand down your bare back as you both lay tangled in the sheets. If he was going to die… at least you were the last thing on his mind.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Present Day – Twelve Years After the Outbreak

Daryl opened the door to Maggie’s shipping container. “‘S’all clear. Cole’s on watch.” She nodded and he stepped farther inside. “Hey, ‘m glad yer here. When yer letters stopped, I thought—I dunno. Maybe ya were gone.”

He watched thoughtfully as Maggie finished wrapping the fabric around the gash on her arm. She looked up at him and there was a teary smile on her face. “Ya better sit down, Daryl.”

His stomach twisted. “…Why?”

“‘Cause I got somethin’ to tell ya.”

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl x y/n #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles #Carol Peletier #maggie rhee #Rick Grimes

[ja3hwa]

Hello jae

congratulations 🎊 on the 3k

I would like to request

53+87+6 with yunho

I really enjoying reading everything you write , i keep looking for your updates a lot it become my daily routine

Thank you for writing for us

❤️

Prompts : 53 I'm tired of running. 87 I wasn’t really sure what love felt like until I met you. 6 say it again

【sʏɴᴏᴘsɪs】 : After the gala incident, you finally speak with your father face to face. But little did you know your life was about to change entirely that night.

『ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ』 :  2.64k

-> ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: Gore. Angst. Suggestive. Mafia Au.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: MobBoss!Yunho x MobPrincess!Reader

[ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs] : Daddy issues. (Plays The Neighbourhood). Swearing talking about mob/mafia business. Dying from childbirth. Mention of past trauma. Lots of crying. Sad times. Yunho is the best fiance. Beefy 6'5 Yunho. Mentions of drugs and criminal activity. Literal cells and torture are mentioned. Dissociation. Murder. Death. Guns. Gore and heavy details of blood and head mounds. Sappy love confessions. Slight suggestiveness. Talk about marriage. Slight possessive Yunho.

Note : Hello, my love. I hope you dont mind. I used your prompts as a continuation for another fic. I'm so glad you are enjoying my work. It seems so much to me. I hope you enjoy this one ♡♡

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Part one | Part Two

You could feel your heartbeat in your ears, pacing back and forth in the hallway of your father's estate. You had been waiting for what seemed like a century. Since you had ignored your father's call, he has now decided to ignore you. Typical for the old man. He's probably losing the plot over the idea of you wanting to marry another, and that other was none other than Jeong Yunho. One of his rivals of sorts. It's not that he hated him. On the contrary, he admired Yunho, thinking he was one of the best in the business. And that is why he was hating you for marrying him. Your father didn’t want to you marry up. He wanted someone lesser, a man that would have no fight nor drive to do something on his own. He wanted you to marry someone that he could control and use you as a tool to control. 

But Jeong Yunho… There is no controlling such a man.

He is powerful, talented―in more ways than one―ruthless yet fair and one hell of a lover. He was a god amongst men, and your father, along with many others, knew of this. This is exactly why your father is currently pacing around his office, fearing to let you in, afraid you might have brought your soon-to-be with you. How could he possibly take control of Seoul City now with such a man by your side? After a couple more moments of freaking out, he finally manages to calm himself down, racking his fingers through his thinning oily hair, shooting the last bit of his whisky before taking a seat behind his desk and pretending as if nothing was wrong.

But when you stepped inside the musty office, you could tell immediately that your dear ol’ dad was in a state of panic. You could see the way his eyes were scanning around you, wanting to see if you brought your soon-to-be with you. But you had told Yunho to stay in the car. You wanted to talk with your father without the looming fear your lover brings to others, and you knew your father would be more than spooked. He would be infuriated. 

“Hello, father.” You spoke first, making the shaky man finally look at you instead of around the room. His eyes were bloodshot. You could tell he hadn’t slept in a day or so, maybe more. “I assume you’ve heard the news already.”

You knew he already knew, the events at the gala weren’t exactly… quiet, and more than one passerby must have heard you and Yunho. Or worse, someone probably saw Yunho’s men dragging your fiance out of the house for no particular reason…

“Is Lucas alive?” His voice was shaky as if he was terrified of you? Scared of his own daughter. 

“That’s what you ask?” You scoffed, not even a ‘hi’ or ‘how are you’. You would have settled on him saying you were a disappointment, but him asking if your ex was alive? Out of anything, he could say. He wanted to know if your shitty pitiful excuse of a man, ex was alive or not? You sighed, turning to look over to the scatter of paintings decorating the walls. Most old paints he bought, illegally, of course. But two of them were hand-painted for his wife, your mother. They really loved each other, but when your mother died giving birth to you, he never seemed to forgive you for it. Like it was your fault for killing the love of his life.

“He’s alive….” You said bluntly, tired of being in your father's presence. Turning back to him, you give him an unexpressed look with a hint of cruelness, something your father has never seen before. “…For now.”

Your father visibly gulped, gripping his pen with a fearsome tightness. For the first time in your life, your father was looking at you, and not as in his eyes gazing upon you with annoyance or displeasure. Or even when you finally get his attention from an argument, and he looks at you with wrath. He never once looked at you, the real you. And now here he was, and he was terrified. 

“You c-can’t do this.” He stuttered, sitting straight up in his chair, while the hand that gripped his pen now slowly snaked under the table. “I needed him. I needed to―control me?”

You cut him off with a snapping tone in your voice. You were tired of your father, tired of being the perfect little daughter. Tired of running after an image of yourself, you were never going to truly be. You scoffed, seeing your father's stunned face as if he didn’t know you knew about his plan. But the truth was, you knew the arrangement from the start, and yet you played along, not wanting to disappoint your dearest dad. He thought he raised a fool, someone to manipulate. But in reality, he raised someone crueller than him. Someone with the ability to kill without a second thought.

“Daughter I assure you, I never wanted to….” His words became blurred as anger filled your veins. Now, this lowlife was trying to lie to you? Did he really think so little of you?

“Enough.” You couldn’t care for his bickering. “I’m marrying Yunho with or without your permission. I only came here to give you the decency of telling you in person.” 

And with that, you went to walk away, turning on your heels to do to open the large dark oak door. Your father now watched in panic, in veracity. Even though you hated the idea of you marrying Yunho, he was more scared of the fact that he still needed your ex alive. He promised his parents protection, and if he were to die, that would mean war. And you knew It. “I need him released…”

You turned, looking him dead in the eyes. “Released?”

“Yes. If he’s not back in my custody within the hour. You will no longer be my daughter. I swear to god, I will end you.” For a second, he sounded like the powerful man he pretended to be. Threatening anyone that got in his way. But you didn’t care. In fact, it made you smile. amused at him for trying.

“Is that a threat or a promise?” And like that, you left.

-

When you got to the car, Yunho could tell something was wrong. Did the talk not go well? He swears if your father did anything to hurt you, he was going to go back in there and shoot him right between his eyes. But as you got in the car, he knew how you were feeling. A smile panted your face, a sadistic one. You started laughing, a peal of nervous laughter. “All he cared about was Lucas…”

Yunho put his hand on your back, rubbing in circles slowly as he watched your laughter turn into tears and then a full-on sob. “ALL HE CARED ABOUT WAS MY FUCKING EX!” you screamed, falling into Yunho’s embrace, crying into his shoulder. He shushed you softly, trying his best to calm you down. He quickly motioned to his driver to take you home but you stopped him, wiping your tears slightly, seeing your mascara smudging onto your hand. 

“Take me to him. I need to see him…Please.” Yunho stared deep at you, looking for any second thoughts in your words. But when he found nothing, he nodded, turning to the driver before simply saying.

“Take us to the dungeon.”

-

It was nearing the hour of midnight, party-goers filling the streets, bar hopping, and dancing wherever the music was. The Dungeon―Yunho’s night club―was one of, if not the best-known club on the block, thousands lined up to get in, even though most of them wouldn’t likely see the inside. The club was stylish and chic with a black and gold aesthetic. Just like Yunho in that area. The theme was his staple. Gold accents, black covering. But below the club was a secret. a hidden club for criminals. Called night hour, the hidden club was where crime lords, drug suppliers, and under-the-table government businesses took place. Only the elites knew of it, so of course your father had known of it, but little did anyone know there was something else under it. A basement level. A place only Yunho and a select few in his team knew. And now you.

The Dungeon, the irony, given there was a literal dungeon under it, filled with cells and interrogating rooms. Among old things, such as a wine seller and storage to supply the clubs above. You walked quickly beside Yunho, feet aching from your heels, but you couldn’t care at that moment. Only wanted to see your ex. Yunho was a bit cautious at first to tell you about this place, let alone that Lucas was here. But when he did tell you, you said you never wanted to see him, nor did you care about such a place. So why now? Why did you want to see him? What was there to speak about?

“Boss. he’s ready.” The one you knew was named Yeosang called from down the hall. Yunho had called while you were in the car to prepare Lucas to be spoken to. Which most likely meant they clean him up a bit. Cause even though Yunho knows you’ve been in this dark world since birth, he wanted to shield you, hide you away from as much as he could. Keep your innocence if it was the last thing he could do. And as you walked down the hall next to him, he felt a sudden uneasiness. He had planned to kill Lucas within the week once you had spoken with your father, so maybe you wanted to get something out of him beforehand. But as you take slow steps towards the cell, he sat in, your heart raced, but your palms never sweat, and your expression never faltered.

He doesn’t notice at first, but you switch to his left side instead of his right, which confused him for a moment, but he thought nothing of it straight after. What he did notice was the way you went silent, more so than usual, and the tension in the air seemed to change. Thicker, it seemed. The door opened ahead of you, and it was like your heart stopped. Your eyes gaze upon your ex, your almost husband, bruised, bloody, and half awake. He was filthy, most likely left in his own mess for who knows how long. And as his swollen lids rose to meet your wide eyes, his expression changed from helplessness to fear. 

Cause in his mind, you were the reason he was there. You were the reason he can’t feel the tips of his fingers or toes. If he still even had them, he couldn’t tell anymore. You were the thing he came to fear most. Yunho watched as Lucas's expression shifted at your presence, and out of the corner of his eye, the blank expression across your face concerned him. You got to the end of the hallway, and it was like time stopped. You moved quicker than Yunho can himself. Or maybe he just never expected you to do such a thing. Reaching into the holster that sat perfectly on Yunho’s hip. Pulling out the gun, you clicked the safety switch and shot straight before anyone could react.

You stare where the bullet priced Lucas's frontal lobe. Right between his eyes... The ringing of the gunshot vibrates and stings in yours and Yunho’s ears. It almost sounded like an explosion at the way it echoed on the damp walls. Instantly, Lucas’s head drops. It doesn’t waver or stagger like in the movies. It just drops… dead. He didn't even get a word out before the shot. No plea, no beg. Not even a second breath.

His blood pools into his lap, the spray from the wound paints the wall behind him, and some of the floor became the same as the redness drips off his lap onto the concrete. You don’t realize it, but you stood frozen, not even dropping the gun from it's shotted position. There’s beating on the walls somewhere, maybe from the club above? You shakily inhale, trying to bring yourself back only to notice. The banging wasn’t around you, but the thrumming of your own heart.

So much chaos ensued within only three seconds.

“Baby…” Yunho’s voice called for you, turning your head slowly, your glossed eyes strain upon his. There was sympathy spilling from the mob boss, and was that lust hidden beneath? He has never seen such a thing happen in front of him by such a sweet-looking thing like yourself. He was proud, confused, and maybe a little bit scared. He never wanted you to have to do something like this, but here you were, gun in hand, and blood tainting your soft cheeks, ruining your attire.

“I…” You broke.

Your knees buckled, falling down, but Yunho caught you. Couching down with you in his arms, you clung to him. He took the gun, placing it carefully on the floor beside you. Tears fell down your hot cheeks, but you didn’t sob for Lucas, no, you sob with a mixture of joy and anguish. You were so happy that Lucas was gone and that you had done the unthinkable. Something your father never thought you’d be able to do. But at the same moment, you were terrified. Your life was going to change, and nothing would be the same. And what terrified you the most…

You felt nothing when you took someone's life.

-

The car ride was quiet, but Yunho didn’t mind. He knew you needed it. Time to your own thoughts. Time to collect yourself. But after a couple of minutes, he grew the want to say something. “You know I will never look at you differently because of today.”

It was like he knew your scattered brain. You had thought Yunho might have been mad at you, or maybe he wanted to stop being with you because of your actions. You looked at him with a short smile, thankful for his words. Your hand that was tangled in his squeezed slightly, telling him non-verbally that you understood him. 

“You mean so much to me. And I’m proud to see you become someone strong.” the tears return to your eyes with his sappy confession. “I wasn’t really sure what love felt like until I met you. I love you so much, doll.”

You sat up straight so you could reach his lips, but he still had to lean down slightly so you could lock your mouth to his. The kiss was slow, tender, unlike the rough, passionate nights you’ve had with him over the past months. Love spilled from him and made your heart swell. His hand cupped your face, rubbing his thumb along his cheek so he could wipe away your tears. 

“I love you too Yuyu…” you broke away from the kiss, nuzzling your nose against his. “I can’t wait to call you mine.”

That sentence sparked something in him. A fire that has been brewing inside him now was bursting out the seams. His eyes turned black, pupils blown and filled with desire. “Say it again.”

You giggled, moving back so you could cup his face in both hands, your eyes no longer glossed and no longer tainted with fear. You give him a devilish smirk, one that makes his heart stop and blood rush to the south. “Mine…” you whispered.

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #kpop smut #ateez reaction #ateez reactions #kpop #ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez scenario #ateez x female reader #ateez x reader #ateez x reader smut #atz reactions #atz smut #atz fluff #atz drabbles #atz hard hours #atz imagines #atz scenarios #atz x reader #atz fic #ja3hwa #ja3hwa posts #ateez mafia au #yunho x reader #yunho fanfic #jeong yunho #ateez yunho

[seung-scrittore]

‧₊˚📡 ✩ ₊˚🎙️⊹ MURKY WATER — l.hs

📻 … hel- … can anyone … kkchh .. WC: 747 a… GN! READER … GENRE: angst … WARNINGS: implied death, mc!d … -over … kchhh ..

Sirens.

Growing up, Heesung couldn't hear enough about them. Enticed by their mysterious tales of beauty and fatality, they were the only thing he asked his mother about when he was a child. He carried this curiosity with him through his teen years as well, going as far as to question his teachers and read the books his town library had to offer, however limited that knowledge might've been. Heesung spent most of his spare time learning what he could about mythical creatures of every kind, though none caught his attention the way sirens did. Perhaps it was because his quaint, lakeside town was known for its aquatic myths, or perhaps it was just because he was curious by nature, regardless of cause, Heeseung often found himself being drawn toward the murky water and its mysteries.

Though Heesung knew these were just tales that parents told children to both scare them and spark imagination, he couldn't help but feel intrigued. His mother shared his love of fairy tales, though, unlike Heesung, she spoke often of forest faes and how they watched over their small town rather than the serenading sirens that Heesung dreamed of learning about. Another difference between Heesung and his mother had to do with their views on mystical interactions; Heesung wanted nothing more than to encounter magic, his mother, however, through her half-hearted belief in the myths she so loved, believed that the two worlds should not interact lest there be consequences.

It was this belief of his mothers that drove Heesung to search for the creatures in his childhood tales. He kept a journal of facts on mythical creatures, writing as much as he could per page. If one flipped through his book they would immediately take notice of the abundance of notes on sirens, adorning the sides of the pages were small, poorly drawn sketches of the different creatures (or at least, what he believed looked like them).

He carried this journal with him everyday, taking extreme caution as to not lose or ruin it, especially on the days he went down to the riverbank. He sat by the side of the expansive stream, knowing that the larger end of the river extended into the sea.

Heesung knew better than to sit by the riverbank, yet he often did. His mother told him that the waters were murky for a reason, but what’s a boy to do when he can’t find peace elsewhere.

Heesung returned to the riverbank constantly, he spent his evenings daydreaming of what lie beneath the water’s surface. He could find out, the water looked shallow. He could wade in for a little bit, that sounded like a good idea. The more he looked out onto the river, the more compelled he felt to walk out into it.

A shiver made its way up Heesung’s spine, his hand loomed forward as he inched toward the water. Despite the grey-coloured water, there was a clear reflection of his hand displayed on the water, reaching forward.

The reflection of his hand distorted, one second it looked human, the next, it was almost grey. Dread pooled in Heesung’s stomach, but he couldn’t turn away.

Suddenly, an almost scaly hand grasped onto Heesung’s forearm. Webbing between each finger and inhumane strength behind the palm. No matter how much Heesung fought against it, he could feel himself being pulled toward the water. He lashed and struggled, but the grasp on his arm only tightened and dragged him toward the unknown.

Fear took over before long, and he tried to shout but his voice betrayed him in his moment of need. Heesung’s vision swirled as water began to fill his lungs. The tang of salt dripped over his tongue as it all faded to black.

𖦹⭒°｡⋆

As far as everyone knows, Heesung just disappeared one day, or maybe he never existed to begin with. But by the riverbank lives an older lady, and she tells a different tale.

The older woman will sit down with you, offer you something to drink before she shows you a small notebook, it’s a little worn with age but well taken care of. Perhaps it was once a journal. Inside is decorated with notes and drawings, clearly the product of hours of dedication to… mermaids? Sirens, she corrects. As you flip through the pages, she’ll tell you a story about the boy who once owned this journal. She starts with, “Sirens. Growing up, Heesung couldn’t hear enough about them…”

‧₊˚🖇️ ✩ ₊˚🎧⊹ — hey ! leo here, popping in to say tysm for reading 🫶 if u liked the fic, consider leaving a like & reblog ^^ !? have a great day bubs ~

… is anyon- … kkkch .. TAGGING: @liumoonlight , @tbzloonar , @noramoons , @seonghwas-lighter , @septabuspass , @hwasdollie , @kflixnet , @kwritersworld , @k-labels , @kdiarynet … pleas- … -you copy? … kchhh …. 📻

#kflixnet #kwritersworldnet #k labels #enhypen imagines #kdiarynet #enha scenarios #lee heesung x reader #enhypen angst #enhypen headcanons #enha x reader #enhypen x reader #enha heesung #enha #heesung angst #enha imagines #enha angst #enha headcanons

[morgue-ratt]

this does not have a title, I wrote it today and had fun so I decided to share it with you, beloved readers <3

NSFW // 1500+ // Strade x Reader

warnings; blood, noncon, torture, strade, afab

Hase means bunny according to google translate

STRADE would kill you. What was once a far off possibility was coming any day now. He didn’t spend as much time with you, it was almost a blessing but your time with him had taught you how to recognize a dire situation, Strade was losing interest.  

“What’s wrong, liebling?” Strade stood before you, his weight on one side and knife in hand. You’d lost track of how long you two had been at this today, when his hands got too soaked in blood, he’d just wipe them clean on your face or hair which was now sticky and crusting to your scalp. Most of it had come from your stomach, he’d tried carving a design into your tummy copied from one of his tattoos but put the idea aside when you started to get too woozy. He’d also at one point decided to sheath his knife in your thigh, halfway to the handle, before pulling it out back out again. Indeed, it had been a long day and you were starting to wish it would end. You shook your head and Strade’s eyes crinkled as he smiled even wider. “It’s so cute how shy you are!”  

Your mouth felt impossibly dry. Crying would only spur him on. “Please. No more.” It sounded so... pathetic. Broken. Maybe because you were. Deep inside, where your pride had once been, there was only fear of this man. 

“Aw, Hase,” He pet your hair before sliding his palm down to your cheek. He was always warm, every inch of him. You closed your eyes, leaning into his palm without realizing it. You knew from experience how sweet it was to curl up beside him and be lulled to sleep by his heartbeat. His voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s not my fault, you’re just so beautiful when you’re bloody and begging.” You shuddered as Strade kissed your forehead. “You understand, I know you do. You’re a smart little thing. I wouldn’t have to do this if you just weren’t so perfect.”  

Your tears started falling as Strade turned around, going to take a sip of his drink from the counter behind him. You were outright sobbing by the time he turned back around and stalked back towards you. The knife at his hip gave him an extra bit of saunter as he loomed over you and you cringed in on yourself on the floor, as though you could protect yourself.  

“How about I let you decide what game we play, hm? Would that make you feel better?” You couldn’t see his face, covered close in shadows, but the tone in his voice was almost sweet and it made you sick. “We can do anything you like, Hase. Would that maybe get you to smile?” 

“No.” You tried to sound tough but the word was eclipsed by your tears. Strade crouched in front of her, the knife catching the light and gleaming. You flinched away on instinct. “No! You sick, fuck, get away from me!”  

Strade didn’t even seem bothered, he beamed at him. “I was only trying to be nice,” He was close now, finally close enough to touch you if he so desired and you spit at him. It landed on his cheek and for a moment, he was stunned but a slow grin spread across his face like cut. “Oh, liebling,” His purring voice dripped with unexpected lust. “How filthy.”  

“Don’t--” 

“What?” Strade grabbed your jaw, pinning your head to the pole behind you. He leaned in so close you could smell the beer on his breath and your expression visibly soured. “I’m not angry. And I said... we’d do anything you wanted.” 

Strade rested his hand on your thigh, his other in your hair. He shifted his weight so all of it was resting on the gaping hole he’d left in your leg and you couldn’t hold back your scream. Strade peered down at you with lidded eyes. “Strade, I’m sorry--” 

“We’ll play any game you like.” He looked like he wanted to eat you as he crawled further between your legs. You could feel the blood flowing out of your leg again and it came with more pain that just served to make things fuzzy around the edges. Strade plunged two thick fingers into your wound and you cried out suddenly. “Aw,” He drove them in deeper, up to the second hairy knuckle and then further until the heel of his hand was flush against your thigh and you let out a deeply anguished wail. Strade leaned in, his lips against your ear as his stubble scrapped your cheek.”What sweet noises you make for me.” 

He started moving his fingers, scissoring them apart as far as he could and you could only groan in protest. You leaned against the pole and closed your eyes for only a second before Strade’s hand jumped from your hair to your throat. Eyes on me. This was for you as much as it was for him, he was putting on a show. “Strade,” Your voice sounded strained and when his honey colored eyes met yours it died completely. Under his gaze, you shifted slightly, expecting what was to come. You’d been here so long you’d basically been trained to associated violence with sex, he’d rewired you to be a dutiful little masochist. Even if you hated him and what he did to you, you were getting hot.  

You shifted your hips again, you would’ve rubbed your thighs together if Strade wasn’t positioned in-between them, you were craving friction. He pulled away from you only slightly, enough for you to his near-sinister grin and you realized you hadn’t been as subtle as you thought. “Enjoying yourself?” There was a teasing tone to his voice that made you want to cry. Strade dragged his fingers out of your leg as slowly as possible and you made a noise close to a growl. His blood soaked hand cupped your mound through your thin underwear and chuckled darkly; “My, my Liebling, ready for me already?” 

You leaned into his hand, straining against the ropes to do so and met his eyes just as Strade leaned back, out of your limited reach. He moved his hand slightly closer, still barely touching you, teasing you through the fabric with that irritating grin. You knew the look on Strade’s face, the joy that only your discomfort brought. “Please,” you breathed.  

“What what that?” He asked, oh so innocently. “I’m sorry, precious one, I just can’t hear you.” The sound you made was undignified and could only be described as a whine. Strade cocked his head, taking his hand back from in between your legs entirely. “Use your words.” 

Begging usually got you nothing with Strade aside from more condescension in his voice but your lips parted all the same. “Strade, please.” You met his eyes; he was hanging on your every word. “Touch me more.” You spread your legs a little wider, trying to seem inviting. “I... I want you, Strade.” 

You could never tell what was going through his head behind that smile of his. “You want me?” He purred. “Someone is certainly eager.” He slid the knife off his belt and your breath stuttered.  

“I... I want you, Strade.” You repeated, eyes fixed on the serrated blade of the hunting knife that you’d become far too intimate with in the past. He slid it between your thigh and the edge of your panties, you went rigid in case he accidentally cut you. That close to your femoral and you’d be dead. But instead of skin, he cut through the fabric, reducing your underwear to shreds and pulling them off your body.  

Strade closed the space between you, once again looming over you before gliding his forefinger into your entrance, assisted by the blood still on his hand that hadn’t quite dried and your slick. “Like this?” He asked, adding a second figure before you had chance to answer.  

Already you were holding back a moan but when Strade started fingering you with as much enthusiasm as he had with your wound you had no chance of keeping quiet. You clenched around his fingers and cried out as he picked up speed. When the heel of Strade’s hand made contact with your clit you were done for, leaning against the pole behind you and closing your eyes, moaning loudly.  

Strade buried his face in your shoulder, breathing in deeply. You felt his teeth as he littered your neck with bites, going down your chest and none to gentle. Neither you nor Strade knew if your cries were from pleasure or pain as he broke the skin of your left breast, blood running down your chest, into Strade’s mouth and staining his hair as he moved down to his carving in your stomach.  

Strade pulled his fingers away and you couldn’t help but glare at him. He only gave you that movie star smile that came with his worst ideas. “Greedy,” He chided. He lifted his hand to better see before spreading his fingers apart, the slick that clung to them was slightly pink, stained with your blood. It tasted like blood, when he pushed his fingers past your teeth and onto your soft tongue. You swirled around his digits and his eyes sparked. “Good Hase. I think it’s my turn.” Strade withdrew his hand and stood slowly before he started unbuckling his belt. You nodded and wet your lips. It wasn’t very usual, but if you made him happy he might just make you cum before the night was over.  

#frenzy scribbles #strade btd #btd #boyfriend to death #strade x reader

[separatist-apologist]

You Painted Me Golden

Did you know that while your mate was warming Amarantha’s bed, most of our people were locked beneath that mountain?

Did you know that while he had his head between her legs, most of us were fighting to keep our families from becoming the nightly entertainment?

SUMMARY: Eris Vanserra never wanted a mate, never wanted a wife. When a chance meeting in Day Court alters the course of his life, Eris will be forced to acknowledge both. But a new threat is looming, and an old foe has come back to Prythian.

And it will take more than luck for Eris Vanserra to keep himself and his family safe when he's dragged beneath the sacred mountain

Read More: AO3

Chapter 6

Thank you @wilde-knight for tracking this relic down for me!

Eris had begun to have nightmares. Not the usual Autumn nightmares that plagued him, but ones that spoke to shifting fears. Of things he could not afford to lose, lest he lose himself. Dreams of Arina’s blonde hair stained red, her eyes vacant as she stared sightless. Eris would wake coated in sweat, twisting just to ensure she was still okay. Still breathing. 

He knew he woke her, too. Sometimes she’d reach out a hand, pretending she was merely searching for him in her sleep. Other times she’d turn entirely, eyes blinking in the dark, and ask if he was alright. Eris would lie—oh, how often he lied to her—and insist she go back to sleep. He couldn’t tell her the truth, that it was Beron killing her and Eris forced to watch. Forced to choose. 

Between her and the throne of his home. He lay awake at night chewing on the inevitability of it all. One day, Beron would have to die. His brothers were surely plotting just as he was. He’d have to choose between Arina and his crown. Beron knew what motivated Eris, what kept him complicit and quiet and if Eris was ever caught making a move, it would be Arina who paid for it. 

For now, though, Eris could have her. And for now, Eris reveled in it. Delighted in her presence, in the way he’d catch her looking at him not with hatred or open, unguarded loathing but delight. Wonder. She was softening and so was he. Eris knew it was dangerous to care for her the way he did and she was the only thing that really belonged to him.

When the time came, he’d send her back to Day or he’d send her to the continent where he knew she was safe. He’d tell everyone she hated him—and maybe she would by then. As long as she was alive and not a tool to keep him forever trapped beneath Beron’s thumb, that was enough. 

She was the only thing keeping him from breaking beneath the mountain. Five years had passed in miserable, unmuted drudgery and nothing had happened. 

“Update?” Amarantha barked, pulling Eris from his musings. Arina remained on his lap, one arm slung over his shoulder. Rhysand strode forward, paler than Eris last remembered, but still as vicious as ever. Eris thought he would have dashed himself against the rocks rather than suffer half a decade as Amarantha’s favored pet. 

Let's get this over so I can get my cock wet, he thought with irritation. 

“There is nothing to report. Another Calanmai come and gone with no hint of human, female or otherwise.” Perched on her throne in a sheer, blood red dress, Armantha sighed. She crossed her leg, nearly showing the whole room her miserable cunt and though it might get them both killed, Arina had to turn her head to smother her giggling.

Absurd creature, his wife. 

“He bores me. What is he doing, then?”

“Brooding, my lady,” Rhysand said with obvious amusement. “Pondering five decades of misery before he finally joins us for a little fun.”

“How dull,” she pouted, scanning the room for a bit of amusement. But Eris knew she’d burned through them all in the early years and now they were merely fixtures for her ego. This was not how she wanted to spend her time, the equally famed and feared Hybernian general. Eris wished she’d just get to the point of their little experiment.

Bring in Hybern, enslave them all or get out. 

She waved a hand and the music began, freeing them from a night of torment. Arina twisted in his lap again, looking for his brothers. They had a long standing card game going, trading coins they routinely lost and regained on an endless loop. No one was bored of it, though—least of all, Eris. 

He pressed an absent kiss to her soft cheek. “Behave,” he warned her, setting her to her feet so he could stand. 

“Will I see you this evening, my lord?” she teased, as if there had ever been a moment when Eris hadn’t joined her in bed. Sleeping beside her was the only true peace Eris had.

“If you’re lucky,” he replied, smothering the urge to smile at the twinkle in those sage colored eyes. 

Arina melted away, leaving Eris to try and figure out what, exactly, was going on between Summer and Day. Something was happening—you had to be willfully blind and stupid not to notice. Glancing toward his father, who dipped his head only once in acknowledgement, Eris made his way toward the only person in Summer he knew well—princess Cressida.

“Busy?” he asked, sidling up beside her. 

“For you? Always,” she replied dryly, not bothering to look at him at all. That was fine—Eris hadn’t expected a warm, delighted welcome. He probably would have said the same to her if she’d tried to interfere in Autumn’s business.

“Aren’t you bored?”

Cressida turned to look at him, blue eyes sharp as ever. Tossing a loc of white hair over her shoulder, she asked, “Are you? Wasn’t your mate just giggling in your lap?”

“Who said anything about fucking?” Eris retorted, annoyed that everyone wanted to throw Arina right back in his face. It had been five godsdamned years. Surely his fidelity was proven? 

“I can’t imagine what else you’d want from me,” Cressida intoned. Eris saw the tightness around her eyes, smelled the salt of her agitation. Pretty little liar, he wanted to say. It didn’t matter, though, given the High Lord of Summer was coming from wherever he’d been hiding, and the High Lord of Day wasn’t in his chair.

Conspirators. Fucking morons if they were caught, but if they succeeded…

Eris rose from his chair with an exhale of air. 

“Even you need friends down here,” he told her, leaning close so only she could hear him speak. “You know how dangerous it can be.”

Cressida looked up at him, lip curling with dislike, but she didn’t say a word. If she was smart, she’d understand his warning. If he noticed, it wasn’t long before Rhysand did, too. They needed to be smarter—far more careful, and do their plotting outside of the mountain when they were given their weekly reprieves.

Eris made his way back to the corner Autumn occupied. Arina played cards with his brothers, save for Tanwen who was wooing a Dawn courtier with gusto. Beron watched his wife spend their money with a sharp eye, stepping away when Eris approached.

“Well?”

“Just as you thought,” he replied, swiping Arina’s goblet of wine from her hands to obscure his mouth. “They keep leaving at the same time.”

“Did you hear anything?”

“No,” Eris admitted, frustrated he’d gotten nowhere with Cressida.

“Send your wife,” his father ordered, his words ringing with finality. “Have her talk to Helion.”

“And then what?” Eris asked, desperate to keep Arina far from this plot. If Amrantha got a whiff of it, she’d kill them all indiscriminately.

“And then we bide our time,” Beron said shrewdly. “We take no sides, we do nothing at all.”

Eris understood what his father meant, They’d side with whoever would come out victorious, which meant waiting and watching and very carefully plotting a multitude of courses. Eris knew if Beron thought they could take Amarantha with might alone, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

But he’d seen what her armies had done when they’d swept into Prythian five years earlier. And none of them had their magic to aid them. She pulled the strings of the High Lords and could kill them all, leaving their territories in the hands of the lesser Fae.

Eris nodded, wine sliding down his throat just as bitterly as the realization that once again, Arina was a pawn in his fathers games. She was expendable—she’d go talk to Helion, and if someone saw her, no one that Beron cared to lose died.

“Is everything alright?” Arina asked, pulling Eris from his thoughts. She’d twisted in her chair, hand outstretched for the wine he’d taken. Beron melted away, looking for his own wife without a care or concern. Eris beckoned for her to stand, delighting in that wicked smile on her beautiful face.

“Not anymore,” he lied. Arina would do what he asked because she was lovely and brave—and if she learned of whatever plot was brewing between the other courts, she’d wanted to get involved. Eris needed to figure it out without putting her in the middle of it.

Pulling her into his lap while his brothers rolled their eyes, Eris found his mother watching. Beron would slaughter him. No. This time, Arina needed to remain ignorant in order to protect her, and it needed to be his mother who risked something. Maybe it was Eris’s bitterness talking, but the scars on Arina’s back were a reminder that Amera Vanserra owed Eris’s mate. She’d taken that beating, had told all of Autumn Court that she’d slept with Helion when she hadn’t. 

Even if they all knew, Arina had still done it. 

Eris waited that night, tucking Arina into bed while resisting the urge to bury his cock in her body. He’d never get out of bed if he did—and he was waiting on his traitorous mother. She’d begun sneaking out of bed two years before, tiptoeing back to Helion for her little stolen moments. That Beron hadn’t caught her was a miracle and proof of how deep delusions could run. 

Eris heard her door open and slipped out of bed with more than a few regrets given how Arina whined in her sleep. Face hidden by those golden waves, Eris was tempted to brush them from her cheek.

He’d be back soon, and he’d wake her. That promise to himself was enough to send Eris out into the darkness, slipping down the smooth halls he knew like the scars etched against his skin. He caught his mother before she ever left, fingers wrapping around her thin wrist.

“Eris!” she exclaimed, the scent of her fear filling the air. Why did she risk it, knowing how mercurial her husband was? Eris couldn’t fathom it. 

“You’re going to see Helion.” It wasn’t a question, though he couldn’t keep the condemnation from his voice.

She didn’t respond, forcing him to plow ahead. “Father thinks Summer and Day are plotting something.”

“Eris—”

“If you don’t find out what they’re up to, he’ll send Arina. And she’s…” Fuck, he hated how desperate he sounded. How he had to plead with his mother to do this for him. Eris, who was practically drowning in his pride, forced himself to add, “Please.”

“I will tell you,” she said after a moment of heartbreaking hesitation, “if you swear to help Lucien however you can the next time he might need it.”

“Done,” Eris agreed, grateful it wasn’t a magical bargain. Her help always came on the back of wanting to protect Lucien. Eris swallowed the bitterness he felt about it because at least Arina didn’t need to be involved. This would stay strictly between the Vanserra’s. 

His mother sighed and then slipped out of his grasp, headed for Helion. Eris watched her go, hating how much he loved her. His mother likely loved him too, he reflected as he made his way back to his shared bedroom. She just didn’t know how to show it well. Didn’t know how to make him feel it the way she did for Lucien. Sometimes he thought there was an assumption that Eris could take care of himself and needed less from her.

But as he curled up next to Arina, foregoing his promise to fuck her in favor of tucking her into his chest, Eris though that wasn’t true. He needed just as much. 

Sometimes he thought he needed more.

ARINA: 

Eris was on edge again. It was their last day beneath the mountain before they could leave for Autumn and usually Eris all but bursting with excitement. Today, though, Eris was brooding, legs stretched in front of him, head propped against his fist. Arina sat at his feet like she so often did when she wanted Amarantha to ignore her entirely, one hand wrapped around Eris’s shin. If she made herself look like a pet, made it seem as though Eris was already humiliating her, there was no fun for the Lady of the Mountain to do the same. 

Indeed, she didn’t look at either of them as she tormented some Day courtiers, a wicked smile curved over her terribly plain face. It gave time for Arina to contemplate what secrets Eris wasn’t sharing this time.

In the course of five years, she’d become rather accustomed to Eris and the strange contradictions that existed just beneath his skin. His cruelty wasn’t entirely imagined—he could be quite awful to people around him, kicking them while they were down, scheming behind their back, and standing with a grin on his beautiful face while the High Lord punished them mercilessly.

And at the same time, Eris was fiercely protective of the people close to him. His brothers, his mother—her. Eris would go to war for any of them, would suspend the few morals he did hold dear if it meant keeping his family safe. And sometimes, when they were alone, Arina thought she loved him. 

Was certain she must. 

And then he’d retreat back into himself, putting up wall after wall for her to try and get through until she grew frustrated and wished she’d never met him at all. Eris made it so difficult to want him and she suspected he did it on purpose. No one could hurt him if they didn’t know him—if he kept them all at arms length.

Today, though, Arina was grappling with a new, more terrible thought. Eris had been creeping out of bed most nights. Sometimes he was only gone a few minutes but others he was gone for hours. His return often sent him straight to the bathing chamber where he’d aggressively wash himself.

Coupled with the fact that they weren’t having sex the way they used to, and Arina was starting to think Eris was having an affair. And she’d decided if he was, she was going to make his life hell until she could leave him. After all the fuss he’d made about being together, about getting married, the idea that in just five short years he was already bored enraged her.

Even his miserable, stupid father managed to remain faithful and Beron had no morals at all. What was so wrong with her that he needed to take his pleasure elsewhere? 

Testing her hypothesis, Arina slid her fingers higher and higher up his leg, making her way toward the cock she liked so much.

Eris caught her wrist in unforgiving fingers, no bothering to look at her at all. His eyes were focused on Summer Court—on princess Cressida. 

Arina wrenched from his grip, irritated that Eris couldn’t be bothered to even pretend. If he was having an affair, did that mean she was allowed, too? Somehow, Arina very much doubted Eris would be fine with her picking out another lover.

The realization was made all the worse by her own private admission that she didn’t want another lover. She only wanted her mate, her husband. Gods, but Arina felt so pathetic then, sitting at his feet like a good little pet.

She rose abruptly, unable to stand another second beside him. Eris finally turned to look at her, amber eyes flooded with curiosity. He didn’t have to talk to her? Fine. She turned her back to him, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she marched off. He didn’t chase after her and when she looked back, Eris was lost in his own thoughts again just as she left him.

Arina might have screamed in frustration if she hadn’t been so afraid of Amarantha. She was going to bed, was done with this hateful night. She’d wake in the morning for Autumn where it was easier to ignore and avoid Eris. She could leave, could probably convince one of his brothers to take her to the sea if she made up some lie about not feeling well.

She could— “Helion?”

It was strange to see him, leaned casually against a wall, draped in the Day Court white. He seemed sadder—older, colder. So unlike the male she’d once been friends with. She knew he was waiting for her given the way those gold eyes fell on her. 

“You look sad,” he said, the question beneath obvious to them both. Arina chose to ignore it, unwilling to admit Eris Vanserra had the power to break her heart.

“Tired,” she replied, stepping as close as she dared. She wasn’t going to be beaten on Helion’s account. 

“You’re still welcome back, you know,” he said as she made her way past him. “I would still…I would still honor the agreement between us.”

A bitter laugh escaped her. “Wow. What choices. A loveless marriage in Autumn or a loveless marriage in Day.”

“Arina—”

“Good night, Helion,” she called over her shoulder, walking away before anyone could overhear. Helion called her name again and Arina ignored it, anger bubbling inside her chest until it was practically a raging inferno. There was no release for it, not here. Arina made her way back to the room she shared with Eris, pacing and stamping her feet and when that didn’t help, throwing the blankets furiously from the bed.

In the end, she went to the bath. Soaked in the hottest water she could stand until her brown skin was red from heat, Arina managed to calm herself. Wrapped in a bathrobe, hair dripping over the silk, she expected to return to an empty bedroom.

Eris was there, sprawled on the wrecked bed. Utterly naked, his cock fully erect. He had to be insane if he thought she was going to crawl into his lap tonight. Arina paused, drinking him in. Eris looked exhausted, the hollows beneath his eyes smudged purple. His already fair skin was practically sallow making the dusting of freckles over his nose stark. Even the way he’d spread himself out spoke of someone who needed unbroken sleep.

Maybe he should end his affair. 

“Yes?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Come here,” he murmured, beckoning her with two fingers. “Let me kiss you.”

Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. 

“Touch yourself, Eris,” she replied, letting her eyes slide down his form with open appreciation. That wasn’t fake, though it did fill her with anxiety. She was so stupid and she knew it—wanting him when he was out cavorting with only the cauldron knew who.

His eyes gleamed. Unaware she meant to bring him to completion without ever touching him, Arina toyed with the ties of her robe while Eris ran a large, broad hand down his toned stomach and chest.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, his voice dark and husky with desire.

No. I want you to tell me you love me—that you’re not fucking someone else.  “Yes.”

Eris wrapped his fingers around his thick, large cock and gave himself a slow, soft tug. He still thought this was a warm up until she cracked. Arina remained where she was, standing just outside the bathing chamber with her dripping hair and her aching heart. 

“Again,” she whispered. Eris’s gaze sharpened, as if he knew what game she was playing. 

“Do you want to watch me come?”

“Yes,” she replied. That was safe—he couldn’t hurt her when she stood across the room, when it was only him made vulnerable. He didn’t understand the why, and Arina forced herself not to think about him wanting to please her. 

Eris slid his thumb over the head of his cock, slicking it through the bead of moisture already gathering along the slit. “It’s been too long between us,” he groaned, eyes half lidded. “I miss your taste.”

Do you prefer it over your mistress? “Tell me more,” she said, tugging at the ties of her robe. Eris watched, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Eris began stroking himself in earnest, his free hand running over his parted thighs to chase whatever pleasure had begun to pool in his body. Watching him was like watching an out of control wild fire. He was going to ignite, was going to take them both with him. 

He’d consume her. Maybe he already had. 

Eris arched his back. “You never touch me anymore.”

Because you’re fucking someone else.  “That’s not true,” she said. Arina had her hands on him every single night, even if they were only sleeping. She’d been touching him in the throne room a few hours earlier. He’d been the one to pull away her hands. He was the one sneaking out at night. 

“I wanted to pull my cock out in that throne room,” he panted, arching his hips again. He was so pathetically close if the tightness of his balls were any indication. Eris continued to stroke, pulling the soft, sensitive skin of his shaft under those callused fingers. Arina wanted him so badly her legs shook from the effort it took to remain still. “I wanted to see you choke on it until your makeup was running down your face.”

Fuck him, she wanted that too— “Why didn’t you?”

Eris groaned. “Too many eyes. Don’t want that filthy fucking court to know how lovely you are.”

Her heart clenched. “Come for me, Eris.”

“I want you to touch me,” he half pleaded. “Arina, come touch me.”

She didn’t budge long enough that Eris’s hand slowed, eyes opening wider. Jaw set, Eris dropped his cock entirely despite how it twitched in protest. “You’re angry with me.”

It wasn’t a question, and still she responded. “Should I be?”

Eris slid his hands behind his head, sighing softly. “Probably. But tell me, wife. What have I done that’s displeased you?”

“You know what you’ve done,” she hissed, retying her robe angrily. “Don’t play stupid Eris. It’s beneath you.”

He took another loud breath. “I don’t know—”

“Where do you go every night?” Arina demanded, holding his gaze. “Who are you visiting?”

He became so still, his cock flagging beneath her hateful stare. 

“Arina,” he whispered but she didn’t want to hear it. Striding for the wardrobe, Arina flung on a nightdress without daring to look at him. She thought he was still on the bed, watching her with wary, guilty eyes.

“Where are you going?” he demanded, standing just behind her. Eris slid an arm around her middle and Arina had to bite back the urge to hit him. She couldn’t do that, even in her anger. Too many people vented their rage on him that way. 

Arina would use her words.

“Somewhere else. To someone else—” she began to add, wanting to hurt him as badly as he’d hurt her. Eris reached for her throat, pinning her back to his chest.

“Tell me who,” he whispered dangerously, teeth grazing her neck. “So I might rip out their heart.”

“It’s okay for you but not for me—”

“I’m not fucking anyone. Not even you,” he added bitterly, his hold on her body tightening. “I am doing something else—something that has nothing to do with my cock.”

“Tell me, then,” she replied, pulling herself out of his grip. Looking up at her mate, Arina all but pleaded with him. “Tell me where you’re going.”

A sliver of anguish betrayed him, vanishing so quickly she might have imagined it. Eris became stone. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because!” he snapped, running both hands through his hair. “Because I need you to be safe—”

“I’m not fragile!”

“Of course you are!” he all but roared, striding toward her to grip the tops of her arms. “You are so absurdly fragile it makes me sick every time I think about it! Anyone who wants to get back at me only needs to harm you.”

“And who wants to hurt you, Eris?” she demanded, breathing so hard she felt like she wasn’t breathing at all. “Tell me what you’re doing.”

“No.”

“Eris–”

“NO!” he shouted, half shoving her in his desperation to put space between them. “Ask anything else of me, but do not ask me that.”

Arina’s mind was a blur, trying to make sense of the fear coming off him, of his larger than life response. Eris, who was so typically unaffected, so cool even under pressure. 

“What are you planning?” she whispered, dread sluicing from her bones. “Eris–”

“Nothing,” he said, running a hand down his face. “I am planning nothing.”

Careful words from a careful male. He wasn’t planning anything, but someone else was. His father, perhaps, or someone else he’d allied himself with and Eris was….Eris was helping with whatever it was. 

“You’re going to get yourself killed, aren’t you?” she asked, cold horror washing over her. “And you don’t want me to be implicated. Is that it, then? You have a death wish?”

Eris set his jaw while Arina fought the urge to scream at him for being so stupid. So reckless. 

“Eris—”

“Don’t,” he warned, holding a finger up between them. “Do not, Arina.”

“Eris,” she tried again, daring a step toward him. Eris only shook his head, reaching for his shirt laying neatly against the back of a chair.

“You thought I was fucking another female,” he hissed, realization dawning over him. He’d been so busy trying to convince her not to be angry with him that it hadn’t occurred to him the full scope of Arina’s suspicions. “You—”

He swallowed hard, shrugging into his shirt, and then his pants.

“Where are you going?” she asked helplessly. Eris only shook his head. 

“Out.”

“Eris!” she yelled, but he strode from the room, boots in hand, and slammed the door loudly behind him. 

It was tempting to try and run after him, to force this confrontation. But Arina was exhausted suddenly. Too confused to make sense of his own angry reaction. Eris had never told her he had any deep feelings beyond the bond—and only expressed his want with his hands. If he wanted to be angry, well.

Maybe he ought to learn how to use his words.

ERIS:

Eris slept like shit that last night Under the Mountain. In his mind, Eris replayed the last several weeks, trying to figure out why Arina would ever think he’d sleep with another female. Why didn't she realize how he felt—didn’t she know? 

Eris remained in the lounge until his mother returned, flushed and bright eyed. Simmering in his resentment, Eris asked, “Well?”

“There is little Helion knows. Murmurings of a rebellion that would take years to achieve,” she whispered, adjusting the laces on her dress. “They meet above ground.”

“Morons,” he whispered, more to himself than his mother. “When Amarantha learns— and she will— I hope you’re prepared to do your mourning in secret.”

His mothers eyes flashed. “You can be cruel, Eris.”

He rose to his feet. “So can you.”

With nowhere but his bedroom left to go, Eris returned to find his wife curled up in bed, knees tucked beneath her chin. She smelled of salt and with a pang of regret, he realized she must have cried herself to sleep. 

Rubbing his eyes, Eris picked up the blanket pooling on the floor and draped it over her. Arina’s skin was warm, her hair tangled from the bath she’d taken just before their fight broke out. As he undressed, Eris wondered if maybe he was just a terrible partner. Arina didn’t know how he felt because he couldn’t get the words out from behind his teeth.

Couldn’t risk saying them and watching her blink up at him, pity flooding her gaze. 

Don’t you know what this is, he imagined her saying? I would leave you if I could. 

Eris pulled her against him, pleased when she rolled over in her sleep to nuzzle her face against his neck.

“Go back to sleep,” he whispered into her sweet smelling hair. Arina said nothing but after a moment her breathing evened out. If she hated him for the secrets he kept, Eris thought he could live with that. Even if it hurt, at least she’d be safe. If Helion was implicated, so would everyone around him. Rhysand would be called in to read minds, to force the truth from them all.

Arina could know nothing.

Even if she hated him for it and he was certain she would. His wife, his mother—all the females in his life were so hell bent on protecting Helion of all people. Helion who continued to put them in danger, who didn’t care if they died, if Eris had to watch his mother and wife subjected to his fathers cruelty.

Morning came too soon. Eris was pulled from his nightmares but soft fingers touching his jaw. “You’re back,” Arina whispered. Without opening his eyes, Eris turned to his side, gathering her in his arms. 

“Lets go to the sea for a few days,” he whispered. “Just us.”

“And do what?”

Eris peeked open one eye. “I think you know exactly what.”

“We can’t run from our problems, Eris,” she said, unaware of just how appealing her mouth was.

“Of course we can,” he retorted with a long-suffering sigh. “All we have is running away from our problems.”

“We could face them head on?” she suggested. Eris laughed, stretching himself until he felt his spine crack. 

“Let’s prioritize avoidance for now, Arina. There is too much happening and I…” I am in love with you.

The realization slammed into his chest like a force of nature. Of course he did—rationally, Eris must have known years ago, but he’d never truly thought about it. Never really considered why he did so much to try and keep her safe, to keep her happy. 

He couldn’t tell her. Eris wouldn’t risk her rejection. Not until he knew for certain she returned his affection, at any rate. And judging by the guarded expression on her face, Arina was not in love with him. Eris swallowed that knowledge, thinking that she could be if he tried a little harder. 

He knew how to court a female, had been trained by both his parents to be a gentleman. “Let me do something nice for my wife,” he finally said, cupping her face. “Let me make my poor behavior up to you.”

“I want you to tell me the truth, Eris,” she whispered, rubbing her nose against his own. “I want to be your equal.”

“You are—”

“I’m not. I’ll never be for as long as you’re keeping secrets even to protect me,” she whispered, as if someone might overheard them. “Who protects you, Eris?”

He felt defensive, stiffening at the implication he even needed to be protected. From her set jaw and the blazing look on her face, he knew what she wanted him to say, though. “Can’t you trust me, just this once?” he asked her desperately. 

“If you want to go to the sea, you have to promise you’ll tell me what’s happening. Otherwise just take me to the Forest House.”

Take her to the Forest House where she’d spend their time above ground avoiding him until the inroads he’d made over the years eroded into nothing. Until his own father had a better relationship with his wife than Eris did. 

“Fine,” he said, though Eris would give her nothing but the very basics. “But I want you to swear to me that we’re both walking out of this mountain alive.”

“Of course—”

“So there will be no heroics, Arina,” he hissed, holding her face too roughly in his hands. “No self-sacrifices. We will continue to remain neutral. Swear it.”

He could bind her by magic. Eris knew she felt it hanging between them, waiting for her agreement. Arina brought her mouth to his. “I swear, Eris.”

She’d kill him when she learned who was on the line. It didn’t matter—Eris had her agreement, and for the rest of the morning he was impossibly smug about it.

“Arina and I are going to the sea,” he informed his parents the moment Arina dropped her bag at his feet.

Beron Vanserra narrowed brown eyes. “For how long?”

“Three days,” Eris replied, certain that was the absolute longest his father would tolerate his absence. “I’ll check in on the neighboring cities and villages while I’m there.”

That appeased Beron enough to nod, sparing the High Lord the trouble of trying to round up stragglers himself. Of course, Eris had no intention of doing any of those things. He wasn’t going to help Amarantha enslave his people. If they’d managed to avoid her patrols, Eris didn’t see how that was his problem.

They stepped out of the tunnel into the fresh air of the middle and without another word, Eris grabbed Arina’s wrist and winnowed them away. What had once been so easy was laborious now, exhausting him when his boots slammed to the sandy, spiky ground of the sprawling, wooden estate. 

“Fuck,” he panted, shaking out tingling hands. “Fuck that stupid cunt.”

Arina nodded, tucking a piece of blonde hair behind pointed ears. “Tell me, Eris.”

And so he did. Walking her through the empty halls that smelled of cedar and salt, Eris told her the basics of his fathers suspicions and what he knew. He didn’t tell her how he knew it, nor did he admit that most nights he stayed up to ensure his mother returned safely before his father discovered her missing. Arina was smart. He could see her piecing things together.

“Eris, if the courts are working together to fight Amarantha, we should—”

“Do nothing,” he interrupted, unbuttoning his jacket in the room they’d share for the next few days. “Because they’re going to lose.”

“Not if we all stood up to her—”

“Especially then,” Eris hissed as he kicked off his boots. She controls the magic of seven High Lords, she has most of our soldiers trapped in cages under that cursed mountain. The only people who can fight are courtiers—warrior trained, to be sure, but Hybern’s legions will wipe them out.”

“So then, what? We just…do nothing?”

“We hope Tamlin figures out how to beat her,” Eris said with a heavy sigh. “And bide our time, pretending we enjoy her reign, this new normal. We remain careful.”

“What if they can win?” Arina asked, biting her bottom lip. Eris sighed.

“They can’t. Not two of them, and not even three assuming Winter is stupid enough to join them. Dawn won’t and Night certainly won’t. Spring can’t, and Beron will risk nothing until he’s certain he can win. It’s delusion to think two, maybe three courts can take on the might of Amarantha.”

Arina bit her bottom lip. “It feels like cowardice to just…do nothing.”

“It’s self-preservation. Don’t fight something you can’t win. She has a weakness and it’s Tamlin. Eventually there will be an obvious way to exploit her through him and when we learn, we’ll take it. Carefully.”

“Promise?”

Eris made his way toward her, wearing nothing but a pair of trousers. “I hate this just as much as you do. I swear I’ll take the first opening I can…so long as it doesn’t risk you.”

“Careful, Eris,” she said, rising to her feet. Eris drank her in, dressed in warm marigold. He needed her in nothing at all. “I’ll start to think you care.”

He grinned wolfishly. “I owe you for last night.”

“Oh?”

“Come get in the bath with me,” he said, reaching for her hand. “Let me touch you.”

“Single minded,” she chided, though Arina still let him undo the laces of her gown. Eris took his time, indulging in the softness of her skin and the sight of her body revealed to him inch by glorious inch. He’d never be tired of the sight of her, would always be excited at the thought of having her.

After all, mates were rare, and belonged to those deserving. In his life, Eris had never expected to find his, and never imagined he even had one. And yet here she was, blinking big, green eyes up at him with open admiration and trust.

Eris was absurdly hard by the time he got her into the large, open bathing chamber, with its glass wall overlooking the moody, cold sea below. Arina was delighted by it all the same, ignoring him just long enough to step into the jetted water or realize what he was doing, how he was positioning her. 

Not until was behind her, erection squashed against her spine. Eris hooked his ankles around her legs to spread her out, pushing them both forward until one of those bubbly gets was right against her cunt.

Arina gasped, wigging in an attempt to remove herself from the pressure, but Eris held firm.

“I said I owe you,” he reminded her, mouth against the nape of her neck. 

“Eris—”

“You’ll come,” he interrupted, hands groping her breasts beneath the bubbles. “I want to watch.”

“You didn’t come last night,” she breathed, resting her head against his shoulder. 

“I’m sure you’ll make it up to me,” Eris replied, thinking of Arina’s soapy, wet body beneath his own. Water pooled around her as she sank to her knees, sucking his cock into her warm, willing mouth. 

Arina was clever, or at least smarter than him. Reaching behind her, her fingers curled around his cock. She gave him a firm tug, causing Eris to jerk upward. He was keyed up from the night before when he’d stupidly thought she was going to straddle his lap and ride him into oblivion. 

She could stroke him into it, too, he decided. In fact, Eris quite liked what was happening. Arina spread her legs wider, held open by his own. Breasts heaving as the water continued to pound unrelenting against her cunt. 

“Are you going to come for me?” he rasped, nipping her earlobe softly. “I want to hear you scream.”

“How long are you going to keep me here?” she panted, nails grazing the throbbing vein on the underside of his cock. 

“Until you beg me to fuck your pretty mouth.”

“You’ll be waiting forever,” she gasped, chest flushed from the heat of the water and the release he knew must be barreling toward her. Eris bucked into her hand, tempted to take himself into his own again, if only to force her to focus on coming. He couldn’t stop himself, addicted to the sight of her, to the feel of her skin against his own. And Eris was greedy more than anything else. If he came, too, they’d be wholly even.

And he’d last longer the second time he fucked her. He could spend hours edging them both, drawing out their pleasure until she did beg. Eris so loved when she did. 

Panting, unable to stop the soft whine that escaped him or his bucking hips, Eris could feel release gathering along his spine. He needed to come, and her hand was perfect. Squeezed tight, using the water to heighten the orgasm racing for him. She squirmed, the swell of her ass teasing his balls until Eris couldn’t take it anymore.

He bit her shoulder to keep from crying out, plucking at her nipples until Arina bowed upward, writhing desperately to escape the onslaught of the water.

Despite his own throbbing cock, still spurting an impossible amount of fluid, Eris pushed her back down. 

“I’m not done,” he growled. 

“Fuck me—Eris,” she pleaded, her voice rising in pitch. She was going to come again and oh, he couldn’t look away. “Eris please, Eris—”

The sound of her pleasure echoed off the glass, echoing down the emptied halls. Only then did Eris unhook his legs and free her, and only long enough to set her on the edge of the sink. He wasn’t going to make it to the bed—he wanted to feel the aftershocks on his cock, wanted to bring her right back up without any reprieve.

“What happened to my mouth?” she panted, his tricky female.

“It can wait,” he groaned, sliding his wet cock into her tight cunt. “Gods, Arina…”

The sound of their slick flesh joining and pulling apart was the most obscene thing Eris could remember hearing. He needed her just like this, needed to keep her with him somehow. And beyond that, Eris needed her to love him with the same desperation that he loved her. He wanted to hear her say it and didn’t know how to tell her first.

Digging her nails into his shoulders, Arina pressed her forehead against his own. “No more lies,” she panted, holding him close. “No more secrets.”

Maybe that was the start, then. “Nothing between us,” he agreed with a shuddering groan. “Nothing but this.”

And Eris swore, as they came again, that it wasn’t just nothing looking back at him. When Arina’s eyes opened, arms twined around his neck so he could drag her to the bed, that it was the same thing glowing in his chest reflected in that mossy green gaze.

It was love.

#I LIVE #and you all think im just abandoning things PSYCHE #im just BEHIND SCHEDULE #anyway #erina #eris vanserra

[blueberrycoffeesstuff]

“Bandages” a DK fic 🤎🍌

(TW: Blood)

You watched every single one of Donkey Kong’s fighting matches. These fights were pretty much their culture here on Kong Island. Your DK was the top fighter, winning most (if not all) of his matches. He was, to say the least, the strongest Kong around, and you were always behind him to support his endeavors. This time was no different. You had special, reserved seats, so that you could see your precious ape up close. This gave him all the chances in the world to flirt with you, and showboat throughout the fight. You always blushed, and of course flirted back with him. How could you ignore that charming Kong?

He was in the middle of his latest fight, you front row, against one of the toughest apes he’s ever fought. He was winning, but he was also taking quite the beating. With every slam DK had in him, the opponent returned. They were fairly equally matched, but DK wasn’t going to give up easily.

You watched as DK grappled with his opponent, growling so deeply you could feel it in your bones. Your Kong was vicious when he needed to be, and his gravely animalistic growls were one of his most intimidating talents. He gripped the ape’s shoulders tightly, until you (and everyone else in the crowd) heard a loud, c r a c k. DK’s opponent howled in pain, but he wasn’t released. That was surely his collarbones breaking under the tremendous pressure. The injured ape was then promptly hauled up, and slammed down hard on his back, earning another loud snap. DK locked eyes with you, winking as he did with a smirk you could only associate with him. He then loomed over his broken opponent, and grabbed him by the mug, slapping him repeatedly. Over, and over, and over… he definitely wasn’t showing any mercy now. DK wanted this fight to end, and fast.

You were almost cringing in the audience, with every smacking sound, snapping, or cracking you felt like you were experiencing the pain. DK took note of your expression in the crowd and decided to back off for a moment, hoping the ape would simply surrender or stay down. But he was wrong to assume so. The floored gorilla leapt for DK, catching him , off guard. He was shoved harshly to the ground, his head hitting the metal bars below him with a bang. You screamed “OH MY GOD!” He was then punched hard, one… two…three…four times. Blood was gushing from his nose and mouth. But his opponent hadn’t had enough revenge yet; he slammed into Donkey Kong’s ribcage with a CRACK, and stomped on his head with a SLAM. You couldn’t take it anymore, you wanted to cover your eyes, or call off the fight, but you were frozen in fear. You didn’t want to watch, but you couldn’t look away.

DK roared, he clearly had enough of this beating and was able to get a reasonable kick in, pushing his opponent back long enough for him to land a serious uppercut. A tooth flew through the air, where another Kong caught it and waved it around like a trophy. DK opened his mouth and bit the neck of the ape in front of him, hard. Blood that was mixing with his own spurting out of the bite wound. He shoved his opponent down at the same time, pinning him. He, with his teeth, repeatedly picked up and slammed the ape’s head against the metal bar until he was knocked unconscious, and therefore losing the fight. DK stood tall, raising a strong arm to the sky, smiling at the crowd. You couldn’t believe that he was just walking everything off… paramedics rushed in to carry the other ape away, taking vitals and checking his pulse. You hoped he would be alright too.

You rushed from your seat to the back where DK would return to a rest-room. That’s where he stayed before and after most of his fights, it was a place for him to regroup, rest, and plan if he wished. You planned to meet him there, to hold him in your arms, and kiss him, and of course congratulate him for such a win! You sat on the couch, patiently waiting for him to arrive….but he definitely was taking longer than you expected. Maybe he is taking pictures with fans… or signing autographs… or talking to someone. You thought to yourself, you never wanted to assume the worst, but sometimes you just couldn’t help it, not after a fight like that.

After ten agonizing minutes, the door handle turned. You stood up, for some reason, ready to greet him. The door opened rather slowly, and sure enough there was your beloved DK. He looked at you, smiling, shut the door behind him and then… collapsed onto the floor with a heavy thump. You rushed to his side.

“Donkey Kong!” You lifted his head and rested it on your thighs, “Hey, DK are you there? Are you awake?” His eyes fluttered open, you kissed his forehead immediately, eyes watering.

“Hey… hey y/n I’m here. I’m okay.” He lifted a hand to head head, “Damn, I must’ve gotten more beat than I thought.” When he pulled his hand away from the fur on his head, there was blood. Your heart was breaking in two right now, you hated to see him u like this.

“Baby,” you gently touched his face, “let me take care of you.” He looked almost offended,

“No,” he dismissed, “I’m good. I just needed a minute.” Your gaze softened, you knew he wanted to seem like a big protector. Someone who could take it all, dish it out, and be fine afterwards.

“DK… please. You’re bleeding.” You paused, looking him over. The blood caked into his fur, the bruising on his face already starting, and the clear injuries he held on his ribs. “Let me just clean them… bandage them.” You were, of course, referring to his major problem areas. DK looked at you for a long moment. Studying your worried features, and the clear love in your eyes for him. He was strong, and he was stubborn. But, things were different when it came to you, and you yourself knew that… and loved every second of it. He almost rolled his eyes as he finally responded,

“Fine.” You grabbed a pillow from the couch behind you, and gently rested his head on it while you got up to look for some supplies. You grabbed; bandage, some water, a cloth, a bowl of warm water, some antiseptic, some small gel ice packs, and some gauze.

When you returned, Donkey Kong was resting with his eyes shut. You could see him breathing. His chest rising and falling almost lopsidedly due to the injuries on his ribs. You came to his side, and placed a hand on his arm, and he reacted, opening his eyes to look at you. You first, dipped the cloth in some warm water, and then dabbed it onto his forehead. He winced for a moment, but then was able to relax while you cleaned the blood from his face. You placed an ice pack on the eye that was clearly bruising, and you heard him sigh in relief. He placed a hand on your thigh while you worked, to let you know that he appreciated it, and was still okay with what you were doing. You smiled to yourself, loving his gesture. You moved to his ribs, rubbing blood from his stomach, and placing more small ice packs to reduce the bruising as much as you could.

“Could you open your mouth for a moment?” You asked, wanting to make sure there was nothing hurting inside. He complied, opening his mouth only slightly, twinges of pain coursing through his jaw with minor movements. You grabbed some fresh water for him, “Here, rinse your mouth out a little. All your teeth are there, but there’s definitely some blood that I’m sure you’re not having fun tasting.” You helped him, pouring water into his mouth. He spit it into the bowl next to you. You put the rag inside, placing both the bowl, rag, and blood to the side. “Alright, now I don’t want you to hold what I’m about to do against me. But, I need to disinfect the gashes.” You held up the gauze and antiseptic. He closed his eyes tightly and said, “Just shut the fuck up and do it.” He was definitely not looking forward to it, but he was still letting you. You saturated the gauze pads in antiseptic and cleaned his head wound first, he hissed through his teeth at the ping of pain it caused him. You then bandaged his head to keep any more dirt from entering it. You did the same with his ribs, offering a tighter wrap so that the right amount of pressure was applied.

You leaned back, looking at your handiwork. You smiled slightly, “Alright… I’m finished. Thank you.” DK opened his eyes and looked down at himself. He took your hand in his,

“Thank you y/n. You’re the only one I can count on, you know that?” You smiled with pride.

“I’ll always be here for you, DK. I promise.” DK tried to readjust himself,

“Hey, you think you could help me get up. The floor is starting to hurt my back.” You quickly stood, offering your hands to him.

“Of course, baby. I got you.” He slowly got up, his huge frame towering over you. You almost forgot the serious height difference between the two of you while he was on the ground for so long. DK turned and wrapped you in a very gentle hug, he himself couldn’t move too much without it hurting. You returned the gentle hug with one of your own, smiling against his fur. He smelled of alcohol wipes and cotton. A very clean, injured ape. You were just happy he was seemingly okay for now.

“Can we sit for a minute?” He requested.

“Of course.” You immediately replied. You helped guide him to the couch where you both sat. He rested his head against the wall while fully relaxing into the plush fabric.

“What in the hell would I do without you, babe?” DK asked, smiling.

“I have absolutely no idea. You’d be lost for sure.” You laughed. He wrapped a strong arm around you. His expression was loving and soft, while he looked at you.

“Y/n.”

“Yes?” DK kept eye contact with you, holding you closer.

“I love you.” Your heart skipped a beat. Your eyes teared up in the best way possible.

“I love you too.” You kissed him deeply, and he happily reciprocated. The slight taste of metal in his mouth transferred to yours, but you didn’t care. You caressed his face while he held you close. When you both pulled back he simply looked happy. You, of course, were happy too… maybe even happier. You had loved him for a long time… but to finally hear and say the words was a completely different feeling. You loved it, you loved him, and he loved you.

“Does this mean I don’t need to go to the hospital?” DK broke the silence. You laughed out loud,

“Absolutely not. We’re going.”

#donkey kong #art #fanfic #for me at least #foryoupage #fypfypfypfypfypfypdypfypfypfypfypfypfyfpfyfpfyp #literature #mario movie #donkey kong x reader #final fight #mario bros #super mario #donkeykong #artists on tumblr #fypage #discover

[rays-of-fire-and-ice]

So I was reading petrichor and this line really got me: "It occurs to her that if she didn’t know him, she’d likely be slightly terrified of him after seeing that." I was wondering if you're doing requests, could I please request a fic where Hinamori is a little afraid of Hitsugaya's powers or him? I guess I just love angst, but feel free to make it fluffy too. Thank you and happy blog anniversary!

In the Shadow of the Ice

Rating: K+ / General with mentions of violence and a bit of course language.

Setting: During the battle of Gerard vs Byakuya and Hitsugaya

Synopsis: After witnessing Toshiro’s new powers, Momo experiences an emotion she never expected to feel towards her childhood friend.

AN: this was such an interesting concept to write about. Admittedly, I put them in a stressful situation, so maybe some of the fear came from that, but still!

The barrier Momo casts is this unnamed kido, I thought it looked neat and decided to include it here.

Hope you enjoy it, anon!

____________________________

Momo’s heart pounds in her ears. Gerard has gotten too close. Thankfully, his focus is on Senbonzakura’s petals that lash out various attacks upon him, but this is also causing him to move in their direction. he crushes buildings and debris in his wake.

Willing herself to look away from the looming threat, Momo focuses on her captain and pulls him up by the arm. “Captain, wake up!” she yells. “We have to move!”

Shinji mumbles, only half conscious. His eyes barely open to look at her and winces. Her kido hasn’t enough to have healed his head injury. She quickly loops one of his arms over her shoulders, almost losing her footing from how quickly she stands up..

“We’re getting away from here,” she says. “We need to get away before whatever that is gets here.”

Shinji lists his head in the direction of the giant Quincy, she too looks over as she begins to lead them away.

Senbonzakura continues to attack the Quincy as a figure sores into the air high above them. Momo swallows thickly at seeing Toshiro. His reiatsu engulfs most of the area, cold and piercing, unlike anything she has ever sensed before. He unleashes a wave of ice, but it misses the giant’s arm and gets plastered across a growing pile of debris. He arcs high and lands on a building with his back to her.

He’d been too far for her to see before now, but being a closer confirms he looks different. The wings and appearance of Hyourinmaru’s bankai had been an obvious change, but she can’t understand how he’s taller. She forces down the emotions that come and doesn’t put labels to them. She can ask him questions later, when all of this fighting of over and they’e rescued those trapped under the debris. Because they will all make it, she doesn’t dare think of the alternative.

She still can’t make out her friend’s face, but she wonders if he has sensed her and Shinji nearby.

In front of Toshiro, Gerard shuffles away from a sudden strike by Senbonzakura and closer to them, one of his feet completely flattening a building and crushing another in half. The resulting debris goes flying everywhere, with large chunks breaking through surrounding structures.

Momo lets out a staggered breath at the destruction. She clutches her captain’s arm tighter and tries to move faster. In less dire circumstances, she could flash-step while carrying him, but her own injuries impeded her and muscle fatigue is starting to set in. She can’t keep the rising worry out of her voice as she says, “Come on, Captain. We’ll end up getting caught in this.”

He tries to put a foot forward, but he slips, sending them both to the ground. He mumbles out a curse and an apology, but Momo doesn’t hear it over the destruction. She tries to focus on helping her captain up and not on the shadow that’s fallen over them and surrounding area. They’re within range of an attack. They can’t escape him now.

New plan, Momo decides. She settles her captain down against a piece of debris, trying to be gentle but ending up hurried. She ignores his string of curses and his attempt to clutch his head, instead straightening up and throwing her hands up in front of her. Most of her view of the sky is obstructed by Gerard. She can’t ignore her racing heart or the cold panic that runs up her spine. Hastily, she chants out the highest barrier kido she can cast. After the last phrase of the incantation, an iridescent dome forms over her and Shinji. It’s the strongest barrier she can conjure up, and suitable for the worst case scenario where they’re buried under debris; if nothing else, they’d have to wait until someone found them.

She attempts to control her breathing, but when the giant twists in her direction, she can only gasp. Without thinking, she looks to Toshiro. He’s looking at her. She can’t make out his features, but his posture is tense.

Behind him, a hand is sweeping towards him.

“Look out!” she screams.

Toshiro barely turns in time to see what is coming for him. He flings himself away and slashes Hyourinmaru in the air, sending a cascade of ice that encases most of Gerard’s arm and freezing it to the building he’d just been standing on. The giant lets out a roar as he tries to free his limb, and it shakes the area all around them, making smaller bits of debris vibrate and tumble down accumulating piles. Some of it hits up against the barrier, sending ripples through the surface, but it remains stable. Senbonzakura cuts the Quincy off, slashing and digging into the side of his head. Gerard bats the petals away with his free hand, scattering them in all directions.

So caught up in watching the fight, Momo yelps when Toshiro lands on the other side of the barrier in front of her and Shinji.

“You need to move!”

She doesn’t have time to be shocked by the change in his voice – however slight it is – or the fact he’s suddenly a grown adult. Being in his presence freezes her, causes her fingertips to go cold and her whole body to shiver.

“W-We can’t,” she stutters out. “C-Captain Hirako i-is…” Knowing she can’t get the words out quick enough, she gestures to Shinji.

Toshiro’s gaze flashes to his fellow captain, and he cringes. “Damn it.”

There’s another thunderous roar, causing Momo and Toshiro to look back to the battle. All the air leaves Momo as the Gerard’s hand sweeps down to the buildings in front of them. They’re destroyed one by one in seconds. Her whole vision is filled with a cascade of falling debris, coming towards her and casting darker shadows over everything. Her hearing is deafened up the sounds of small pieces bouncing off the barrier and the crushing of the debris about to fall on her.

Yet somehow, despite how fast it’s all happening, she thinks of Toshiro, in harm’s way.

Without a second thought she lungs to him, intending to pull him into the barrier. The moment her hands come out of the barrier and are centimetres from grabbing the back of his uniform, they burn. She barely registers the ice forming and crawling up her fingertips as she loses her footing. She screams, but she’s not sure if it’s from the burning cold or that Toshiro is about to be crushed.

“SHIRO!”

And then it all stops.

As Momo topples, her widened eyes take in everything. One second, the debris is falling, and the next, it’s all stopped midair.

Her arms land outside of the barrier but the rest of her remaining within. Her palms smack hard against the now frozen ground. She gasps at the cold. “H-How…?”

She whips her head back up, and time stills. No, she hadn’t been seeing things. All of the debris is frozen in ice. In her peripheral, every piece and chunk has been entrapped by the ice, and formed what looked like a massive wave frozen in time. Most of the ground remains untouched, expect for a jagged circle of it around Toshiro. Thankfully it hadn’t gotten inside of or on the barrier; she doesn’t think to question why that is, too shocked by what just happened.

A crunching footstep makes her shift her gaze back to Toshiro. He’d had his hand raised, but he now brings it back to his side. Hyourinmaru thrums with power, and if she weren’t already on her knees, she’s certain the way his reiatsu flares would make her double over under its pressure. She’s on verge of breaking out in a sweat, trying to keep herself raised.

“Hinamori!” Toshiro crouches and starts to reach for her, but stops himself. He winces, regret briefly flashing through his eyes before concern returns. “Are you all right?”

She manages a stiff nod, because as the shock starts to wear off, it finally hits her. He had done this. He’d frozen falling debris into a towering wall of jagged ice with a wave of his hand. He’d been standing there as the wreckage and destruction fell towards them, knowing he could stop it all.

Her awe is outdone by something she never expected to feel towards him. It grips her in a tight hold, causing her heart race again and tremors to break out across her limbs. She keeps her still widened eyes on him and tries to speak, but only stammers come out.

His wings arc around and over the barrier, protective. “What’s going on?”

Something about the action briefly reminds her of the Toshiro it knows. “Y-Your reia-atsu!”

His expression twists for a second, then he looks to the ground. “I’m not flaring it.”

This is his normal reiatsu now? When had it changed this much? No, it must the creeping exhaustion, it’s wearing her down to the point his reiatsu is affecting her. But what if that isn’t it? How can he be this powerful? What is this power? When had he acquired it? Why is he an adult?

“Hinamori, snap out of it!”

The order makes her flinch. She’s struggling to regain her breath and she can only stare at him. What she feels towards him in this moment has taken over her, and it horrifies her.

“What’re you…?” He glances down at her hands and does a double take. “When did you touch me?”

She’d completely forgotten about the ice encasing her fingers. Now the cold returns, dangerously close to piercing her to the bone. “I-I didn’t.”

His leans forward. “Let me see --”

On a reflex, draws her hands back into the barrier and she pushes herself away, clutching her them to her chest. Clutching them, some of the ice breaks off and falls away. She didn’t realise she’d half turned from him until his frown vanishes, but doesn’t move to change her posture. She wants to say this is all because of the intense cold emanating off of him, but it’s not.

“I was reaching for you,” she says, her voice almost sounding meek. “You were focused on the debris, you didn’t see.” Behind him, the wave looms over them. He’d created it with a wave of his hand. She shakes her head. “How is any of this possible?”

Something breaks in him, causing his eyes to widen and a strangled sound to escape him. His lips are parted, but nothing else comes out. He’s completely still, even the rise and fall of shoulders and chest ceases. Momo can’t register what he’s feeling, too caught up in trying to understand her own.

It’s as he’s frozen along with the wave. His gaze eventually falls to Hyourinmaru, hiding his eyes under his fringe. Something about the movement is vulnerable, and she wants to say something, but nothing comes to mind. “Hitsugaya-kun…”

His grip on his zanpakuto suddenly tightens, and he sweeps his head back up. Gone is the vivid emotions from before, and in it’s place he puts on the air he uses for training new recruits. “I’ll explain later. Protect Hirako, and when he’s ready, you need to get as far away from here as you can.”

Without another word, Toshiro stands. Some of the ice on the ground cracks when he kicks off with a powerful flap of his wings. Something about that tugs on Momo’s mind, but she ignores is as watches Toshiro soar through the sky and back into the fight, effortlessly dodging the Quincy’s attacks and conjuring ice in a blink of an eye. This attack is more vicious than any of the others, the ice coming out as more of a stab than a wave. It pierces Gerard and forces him away from the area. His shadow disappears over her and Shinji.

The ground shakes around her, helping her come out of her shock. Toshiro and Byakuya are forcing the enemy away, she can resume healing her captain and then getting him to safety.

She brushes and shakes the ice off her finger tips. The fragments fall into her lap and melt into her uniform. She curls her fingers several times, trying to rid the stiffness and chill from them.

Keeping the barrier up, she casts a healing kido over the last of Shinji’s injuries. He’s awake still, and more conscious than before.

“Who the fuck was that?” he mumbles.

Her voice is caught in her throat, but she forces out, “T-That was Captain Hitsugaya, sir.”

Shinji’s frown deepens. “Shit…when did his reiatsu get that big?”

If he had been more aware and awake at the time, she wonders how he’d have reacted to seeing Toshiro in this adult form and with these powers. Would he have been as shocked as her? Would he have been fearful too?

That fear lingers as she glances over her shoulder at the frozen wall of debris. Even when she was still recovering in Twelfth Division after he had been tricked into stabbing her, she was never been anywhere near this fearful of him.

She continues to stew on it as she heals her captain, then as she brings the barrier down, and as they stand to move off and find somewhere safe.

With Shinji more conscious, she gets her answer to at least one of the questions she had from before.

 “How the hell did he do that?!” Shinji half yells, widened eyes taking in the frozen towering wall of debris. His gaze sweeps down the wave, then lands on the battle happening the far-off distance when multiple sheets of ice conjure up in thin air and strike Gerard. “What kind of power is that?” He looks to her. “Did you know about this?”

She shakes her head.

That makes Shinji raise a brow. “Thought he’d tell you of all people."

Maybe that’s what scares her more than the powers themselves. She knew he was training in caves somewhere in the Soul Society, but she never really asked about his progress. If this was the result of his training, how had he kept something so powerful under wraps? 

“Hitsu – Captain Hitsugaya rarely speaks to anyone about his training,” she explains. “I imagine Rangiku-san knew about this though.”

“Yeah, she’d have to.”

Shinji steps over a particularly large piece of debris. Momo tries to do the same, but ends up losing her footing. Shinji is quick to grab her by the arms, steadying her. He grimaces as he helps her right herself up.

“I-I’m sorry, Captain,” she says.

He releases her and grips his right side. It’s an internal injury, one that Momo can’t fully heal.

“Just stay focused,” he advises. “It’s a lot, I know, but we can’t get hung up on the small things…Well in this case, it’s not a small thing, but you get the idea.” He jerks his chin in the direction of where there’s still whole buildings and structures. “You can ask him about it later. Pretty sure we’d all be curious about how he came to be like this. Now come on.”

She nods and takes the lead. “Yes, of course, sir.”

They walk on in silence, but Momo wishes they were still talking. She tries to put it all aside, to focus on finding somewhere safe for her and Shinji, but it continuous to circle around and around in her mind.

The fact he could simply freeze anything he wanted to with a wave of his hand is frightening even of itself, but it’s not the only thing that makes her fearful. Combining them with a situation as dire as falling debris that seemingly couldn’t be stopped, in a form she has never seen him in and the fact she never knew he was capable of wielding such powers, it put a leaden weight in the pit of her stomach.

Was this how the children in the Rukongai felt towards him? Had he seen that same fear in her just now?

She thinks back on his reaction, on the emotions flashing across his eyes. It was a vulnerable look, one that was equal parts shock and confusion, and something else. Something that makes her bite the inside of her cheek, hard.

Her reflection is interrupted by a confused grunt from her captain.

“Captain what’s…?” She returns her focus to the battle, a long, safe distance away now. Even so, she can see why her captain is bewildered. The giant’s flesh seemingly falls apart as he tips inexplicably forward. More buildings are destroyed under the weight of his bones.

“What the --?” Shinji begins, but then Gerard’s flesh, now brighter beams, flies towards the top of the Palace.

“Must be Yhwach’s doing,” he mutters with a grimace. “Does this mean he’s winning?”

“It can’t be…” The possibility has always been real, but despite the odds stacked against then, Momo believed to her core that they would secure a victory over the Quincy.

“I can’t sense Ichigo,” Shinji says through clenched teeth. “What the fuck’s going on up there?”

“We should go and help them, sir,” she suggests.

He shakes his head. “We’d be useless the way we are now.” He takes in a deep breath, the  continues. “That kid isn’t weak. He always gets back up, no matter gets thrown at him. If he’s got Lieutenants Kuchiki and Abarai going to help, he’ll be fine.”

It sounds as if he’s trying to convince himself, but Momo nods. “They’re both strong.” She looks back to where the battle had been. She reaches out her senses, extending them beyond her usual limit. She clenches her fist as it begins to become too much. Just that little bit further…

She let’s out a relieved breath. “I can still sense them there. They don’t seem gravely injured.”

“At least that’s something.” He gestures to the piles of debris all around them. “In the meantime, I reckon we can start to look for Hiyori and the others. Their still alive, but they’ll need healing. Reckon you’re up for it.”

“Yes, Captain.”

They walk quickly over and between the ruins, following the faint traces of Hiyori, Love, Hachi, and Lisa’s reiatsu. Momo eyes Shinji’s injuries with concern after ten minutes of searching; aside from slow him down, they could reopen.

“Sir, maybe you should --”

Fast footsteps echo around them, bouncing off the piles of debris and still standing walls. If it weren’t for the reiatsu accompanying them, Momo would’ve had her hand on Tobiume in an instant.

Shinji grins. “Sure took their sweet time getting to us, huh?”

“With all of this wreckage in the way, it’s amazing they found us at all,” Momo says.

Byakuya appears from around a hill of debris, and stops when he spots them. It’s the most tattered looking Momo has ever seen him; even his tekko are coming apart at the seams and smeared with dirt and blood.

A movement from behind the captain distracts her, and her heart shudders when she sees Toshiro. He’s slouched over, the buttons of his coat done up in the wrong order and a sweat gleams on his brow. He’s exhausted, perhaps on the verge of fainting. But more than that, he’s himself again.

“We sensed you nearby,” Byakuya says, but she doesn’t turn her attention to him.

“Nice to see you too,” Shinji snarks. “You aren’t looking too good. You need my lieutenant to heal you? She ain’t Fourth Division, but she’s still good.”

Byakuya raises a hand as he comes over to his fellow captain. “There’s no need.”

Shinji jerks his chin in the direction of where their fight against Gerard had taken place. “What happened over there? Doesn’t look like you two took him out.”

Toshiro raises his head and begins to follow Byakuya, but freezes and straightens when his gaze meets Momo’s. His lips part, but nothing comes out of them. Momo swallows, also wanting to say something but nothing comes to mind. Her fear has tampered down. Perhaps it’s because he’s back to looking like how she knows him. It didn’t mean he was the same not after what she saw. Her heart tightens again, and she’s not sure what her expression is.

His lips close into a taut line, his frown deepens, and his eyes flicker away, returning seconds later only to look away again. His grip on Hyourinmaru tightens, and he pulls the zanpakuto behind himself, mostly out of view. His coat flaps as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, then half turns away from her.

This all went unnoticed by Shinji and Byakuya, who continue to discuss the battle and their next moves, but for Momo it’s all she can see.

The way his gaze wavers, the stiffness in his posture, the way Hyourinmaru trembles from the pressure of his grip. He’s suddenly so uncertain, so unsure what to do. She unknowningly stakes a few staggering steps towards him. As she does, from beneath his fringe his gaze briefly flickers to her, and he flinches. Her heart fractures, and for a beat she loathes herself.

He was hurt. She had hurt him.

How could she be fearful of him?

When he starts to turn from her, she scrambles up to a run. Her guilt is immense, enough to bring tears to her eyes. She thinks to apologise as she makes her way to him, but she’s conscious of the captains’ stares.

It’s not the only reason she runs to him, she realises. It’s that he made it. He’s alive, and he’s not physically hurt as far as she can tell.

He hadn’t even noticed her coming, head hanging low and hunched body half turned from her. She slows her steps as she nears him. “Hitsugaya-kun,” she says softly.

He whips his head to her, and she closes the gap between them. Without hesitation, she brings arms around him. He goes more rigid and a choked sound comes from his lips. He hug isn’t tight, easily breakable if he wants to step away from her.

She trembles. He’s freezing, but it doesn’t burn her.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she rambles. “I’m so glad you’re okay. Please don’t go.”

Eventually, his rigidity softens. “You were afraid,” he whispers hoarsely.

She pulls back. “I didn’t mean to react the way I did. I was confused, I didn’t know how you became like that, that’s all.” She can’t repress a sob. “I thought you were about to get crushed, but then you just…froze everything. It’s an incredible power, unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”

His eyes are wide, hopeful and desperately wanting to believe what she’s saying. He almost looks like the child she’d befriended decades ago. She raises her hands to his shoulders and squeezes them.

“But this isn’t about me,” she continues. “I hurt you, and I’m so sorry. Y-You don’t have to tell me about that power, I’ll understand if you choose not to. I’m just glad you’re okay.” A tear falls from the corner of her eye. The war might still be going on, but behind the guilt, she relieved they’d made it through that battle.

“I should’ve told you what I was going to do back there.”

“Huh?”

“When the debris was falling, I should’ve told you what I was going to do. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

She could almost laugh; it’s somehow absurd to her that he’d say something like that. “You know as well as I do in the heat of battle there are moments where we can’t go over strategy.” She gives him a soft smile. “Besides, even if you had told me, I still think I would’ve worried.”

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he whispers, “I’d never…” He quickly shuts his mouth, considering his next words. There was a slight desperation to his tone. It’s like someone desperately pleading with another to not think differently of them, and it’s so strange to see and hear this coming form him.

However, when he speaks again, it’s more neutral. “What you saw before was Hyourinmaru’s Completed Form. I can’t tell you about it now, but believe me, I will once this is over.”

How she desperately wants to know, but she nods. “I understand.” She lowers her hands back to her sides and gestures to a piece of debris next to them. “You should rest for now. You’re not injured, are you?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing serious.”

“But still –”

“You’ll have to heal those still underneath the wreckage, right?” He gingerly lowers himself to sit on the debris, using Hyourinmaru to keep his balance. “And if not them, then you’ll need all you can get to fight any enemies left. Save your strength.”

She wants to argue, but he’s right. She sighs. “All right.” Then, she bows. "I should've said this earlier, but thank you for saving Captain Hirako and I earlier. If not for you, we would've also been under the debris." She rises. "I'll check with my Captain and Captain Kuchiki on what our next move is."

She is about to go, but Toshiro’s voice, louder, than before, stops her.

“Hinamori...I didn’t tell you before because…” Toshiro shuts his eyes and his frown returns. He breathes in deeply, then silently out. "I didn't deliberately mean to hide something like this from you, or anyone, but it's...Those powers aren't mean to harm you, or anyone else other than enemies of the Soul Society. I'm still learning to control them, thought I had, but clearly I still need to..."

He's struggling, whether it's to find the right words or from fighting off exhaustion Momo can't tell.

She raises her hands. “It’s okay, we can discuss this later, like you said. The truth is, you didn't have to tell anyone if you didn't want to. I'm sorry if I came across as demanding to know why and how you got your new powers.” She kneels down to his level. "I also know you wouldn't hurt me, or any of us, if you can help it. If anyone can get a full grasp on their zanpakuto abilities, it's you, Hitsugaya-kun."

He let's out a shuddered breath, then bows his head. "It's 'Captain Hitsugaya', and you don't have to keep apologising. I just wanted you to know that anyway."

She can sense he wants to say more, so she waits.

“I don’t like that form, but I use it when I have to.” He raises his eyes to hers again. “If I were to use it again, how would you feel?”

The question makes her heart stammer. “W-Wha….What does it matter how I feel about it? You’re the one who uses it, and if you’ll need to use it, then –”

“It does.”

His conviction, in his voice and in his eyes, bewilders her. Why did he feel strongly about this? Is he worried he will frighten her again? Hadn’t she made it clear before this wouldn’t be the case?

She blinks as she gives her answer. “It would still be you, Hitsugaya-kun. I may have been afraid before, but I won’t be again.” She shrugs. “As is, there were various things that contributed to my feelings at the time, not just your powers or that form.”

Toshiro’s eyes shine with something she can’t quite place. It returns him to how she knows him, and the last of vulnerability vanishes from him. It might be that power he'd demonstrated, swirling beneath the surface of his eyes, but there's a warmth to it.

She had reaffirmed something, she suspects, but what it is she can’t be sure.

#hitsuhina #toshiro hitsugaya #matured form #momo hinamori #bleach #fanfiction #blog anniversary requests #1 down 4 to go! #I'll come back and edit this later #I wasn't 100% happy with the ending #at the time I thought 'this'll be a good *wink wink* to those who know what exactly been reaffirmed #but it didn't turn out that way for me #if I change it I'll self reblog with a note

[quietwingsinthesky]

(transgenderdoctorwhomst) the Pond Family Nightmare is so fun. and now i'm rotating the potential fallout of amy dragging the doctor into the past with her and now his options are 1. wait around for the rest of amy and rory's natural lives and then some until he lines back up with his tardis and river, or 2. choose to abandon amy and rory and figure out how to extract himself from the paradox so he doesn't have to watch them grow old and die. either way, she has brought him into his canonical worst nightmare (being stuck in a mundane linear life long term) and he wants to be mad at her but Can't. hi. brainworms.

i know right. it’s like the twisted nightmare version of fourteen ending up with donna’s family. there will be no therapeutic recovery here, just the joyful moments constantly overshadowed by the feeling of being trapped, loomed over by the shadow of death that inches a little closer to the people he loves every day. and it is so slow. simultaneously never enough time but too much, enough to fill with all the anger and fear and powerlessness he feels.

and then rory will say they’re having dinner in a few minutes, and the doctor will go to join them, and when they’re laughing and perfect and right there in front of him to reach out and hold (which he does, often,) all those feelings drain out of him. how could he leave them early? it’s a constant cycle of struggling to escape, maybe even reaching the last step, and then letting go again because he spent last night in the garden with amy stargazing when she had a nightmare. who would stay up with her if he wasn’t there? who else would understand the ache of two thousand years like an old scar in rory’s memory? that’s what he’d tell himself, the ponds need him. because if he admits he’s staying because he needs them, then how is he ever going to survive when this ends?

and then, of course, there’s also the whispers and stares the three of them would get together. i doubt a century or so in the past would make amy stop referring to them both as hers, but hey, they’re all already used to being the freaks on the edge of town. maybe this world is one where they raise a son as well. i don’t know if the doctor could bear to be a father again at this point, but he’d try. (the same way, i imagine, that amy can barely look at herself as a mother, but she has to help this boy. all three of them looking at him and thinking, “you will not live in a world as lonely as mine was.”)

he’s going to lose them eventually. and it’s going to break him worse than a nice clean snap of connection could have. they’re going to be burrowed into his bones by the end, and he’ll have to dig them out bit by bit. good luck getting him off of that cloud in the sky this go around.

#i think he tries to leave so many times and he never succeeds because deep down he can’t choose to leave them #he tried. he tried before and he’s left behind so many companions. and he just can’t. he can’t do that anymore. #so he goes home. ashamed and not speaking about where he’s been. and i think he crawls into their bed bringing that guilt as his partner #and doesn’t fall asleep no matter how warm rory is at his back or how much amy absently pets his hair #ask

[skin-of-my-teeth]

Playtime

Tags: Pred/ Prey, hybrids, wolf Joon, bun Koo, chubby prey, hungry pred. Vore teasing.

Namjoon and Jungkook love giving into their instincts when playing together.

~~~

Namjoon's claws indent the supple chub of Jungkook's waist as the tubby prey straddles the slender wolf. Jungkook whines in response to the dark, hungry expression on his predator boyfriend's face. The bunny looks down at his belly to drink in the way he jiggles in Namjoon's large paws. Every squeeze and knead to the thick padding in his waist makes him feel like he's being tenderized.

“You're finally fat enough to eat.” Namjoon purrs. His eyes are lidded as he's honed in on Jungkook, pheromones pumping out the seductive sweetness that always happens when the wolf is hunting. It interferes with Jungkook's rational mind and makes his bunny brain feel fuzzy and foggy. Jungkook whimpers, dumb and plump in the predator's grip, completely at his mercy. The perfect prey. So willing.

“Mmmh~” Namjoon licks over his lips and pets his thumbs down the front of Jungkook's belly while he squeezes his sides. Jungkook wants to kiss him. “You feel so plump, baby. So delicious~”

Jungkook can't help but mewl and shift his hips in search for friction.

Namjoon shoves into him, manhandling Jungkook with his overpowering predator strength. One second, Jungkook is straddling him on top, and the next, Jungkook is shoved to the ground and laid out on his back. The wolf looms over him and pins him down by the chubby wrists and thighs. Jungkook is so soft and malleable, so easy to restrain. There isn't a muscle in his pudgy body that's strong enough to fight back against a wolf, and they both know it.

The bunny arches on instinct, slicking up just from the weight of his predator pinning him in place. 

Namjoon knows just what to say to his needy bun.

“And what if I ate you, hmm? What if I bit in right here...” Namjoon's lips kiss at Jungkook's neck, right over his pounding pulse.

His prey instincts are flooding through his trapped body deliciously, pulsing danger, danger, danger. Flee, flee, flee.

Jungkook's chubby legs twitch and spazzam because his body has too much adrenaline coursing through him.

“I-I'd let you-” 

The wolf rumbles into his neck and drags his tongue slowly up his vulnerable throat. Nothing compares to Jungkook's sugared sweet flavor when he's pumped full of fear.

“Would you? It would hurt, baby.” Namjoon teases and nips at his skin.

Jungkook gasps at the scrape of sharp wolf canines against his delicate skin. They can break him so easily, and he knows that his wolf would suck on the beads of blood like they're candy. Lick over the wound like he's a sweet dessert.

The prey's back arches again and his heart thunders in his chest as he groans. His scent pumps out more fear, more anticipation that maybe, some day, his predator might lose control and actually do it. Might decide that the prey is too delicious to not eat. The thought makes him wet and squirm.

“B-bunny likes hurting-” 

Namjoon chuckles darkly into his ear, grinding down his hips and pinning Jungkook back into place with all of that muscle. The predator's taught middle presses into Jungkook's plump, soft one. His stomach growls loud enough into their den to send Jungkook whimpering and gushing slick. Jungkook knows that Namjoon has wanted to taste him for months. He wonders if the predator's restraint is finally fraying, thinning like melting ice.

It's only a matter of time, after all.

The wolf's claws trail across the insides of Jungkook's wrists: another delicate, vulnerable spot that leaves him nearly begging for it.

“Bunny wants it? Maybe I'll have to take a bite, then…”

#bts fic #🐞 #i love hungry wolf Joon