#anyways its a tale as old as time and that tale is that i LOVE steve harrington

[stevebabey]

it’s too late for me now (i need you sticking around)

a/n: ruby?? finishing something?? u better believe it! this was inspired by future me hates me / the beths & i STRONGLY recommend it for the VIBES + much luv to my dearest kenny for the threats so that this finally got finished <3 intended lowercase + fem!reader. word count: 3.1k summary:  it’s hard to believe in love after so many bad first dates — you’re desperate to make sure the next one sticks.

your run with love had its history. 

consider it the lore of your life, but the winding tales of your many failed dates — that road was long. counting them went off both hands, much to your distaste. though, you’d hardly say you dated around; especially considering none of the guys seemed to make it past date three. 

what was the problem? you were splendid company if you did say so yourself. you tried to not be too loud, nor too quiet, a good balance of serious and flirty, all loud or odd parts of your personality packed away to try not to scare off any dates. it didn’t seem to make a difference — the fault had to be the male population of hawkins.

so why did you keep accepting dates?

well, it wasn’t your fault for getting swept up in it each time. somehow, you never managed to learn your lesson — but when a boy slips sweet notes into your locker or plucks a flower to ask you to dinner, it kicks your heart into a fuss that won’t settle and you swoon.

you daydream about holding their hand, pressing a soft kiss to their brow, finding a soft spot in their heart where you can nestle & live and become someone that someone loves.

it doesn’t matter if you’re cradling your still bruised heart from being stood up by jeremy jones last month because when the next boy asks, your stupid heart still flutters out what if it’s real? what if this time it’s different? 

and it never was.

perhaps, worst of all is that you were still so tangled up with the idea of love. there was no helping the flip of your stomach, the nervous anticipation, the skip of your heart when thought about love. the track record of your battered heart didn’t seem to matter, there was no shedding the hopeless romantic in you. 

however, it meant you were a tad pickier these days. standards high enough to warrant being called a bitch from the guys who couldn’t handle the rejection but hey, if they can’t bother with flowers on the first date, it told you everything you needed. you wouldn’t get yourself pathetically worked up on boys that only asked you out over the phone and had different intentions.

but still, your poor heart loved to latch to whatever it could. 

so, when steve harrington asks what you’re doing friday night on shift at family video, you have to curse the skip of your heart. 

for the last couple of months, you had gotten to know steve as your co-worker. as anyone who grew up in hawkins did, you were well aware of his prior reputation with the ladies — so it was a pleasant surprise to find you actually enjoyed his company. maybe it helped to have robin who called him dingus in the most endearing way and introduced him as her best friend. 

and if robin buckley, certified band nerd, and king steve could be best friends, then maybe you could give him a chance. 

and somewhere between the dorky jokes and his handsome grin, you had melted into easy friendship with steve. between bad customers that you gossiped about after and both of you attempting to distract the other while on the work phone, the two of you drew close. so much that you started looking forward to shifts with him.

so naturally, you accidentally grew a crush the size of jupiter on him.

how could you not? he always picked you up for your friday shift, knowing your brother got dibs on the car and you’d have to walk otherwise. whenever it rained, steve would trot to the café down the road and return with a steaming cup of hot chocolate for you, extra marshmallows in your cup — even though you didn’t remember ever telling him your affinity for mallows.

this time, however, you were determined to not ruin a friendship just because your heart had different plans. for perhaps the first time, you were not going to fall for the delusions you fed to yourself, no matter how much you’d like to believe that steve was different. even though you had sworn you’d caught his gaze caught on you one too many times.

you didn’t think you could take another crumpling of your heart, your ideas of love crushed once again, especially from sweet steve. friends it would have to be. 

“friday?” you ask nonchalantly, looking up from the returns cart and blinking at steve. “no plans, i think. why?”

on the other side of a shelf, steve looks as though your response surprises him, lips parted and you swear a patch of pink has crawled onto his cheeks. he clears his throat and ducks to place a tape on the shelf. “i was— do you like parties? there’s a party on friday.” 

your pulse jumps for a moment, a nervous feeling settling in your stomach and you try to shake it off. “a party? yeah, who doesn’t like parties.” 

it’s enough of a casual answer you hope, continuing to slot tapes back on the shelves slowly. without meaning to, your eyes dart back up to steve, trying to gauge what he’s building up to ask. butterflies swarm in your stomach and you clench your fists, willing them to dissolve.

“did you wanna go?” for the second time in one minute, steve clears his throat. you wonder if he’s nervous. “with me?” 

you pick over his words, trying desperately to ignore the way your heart sings. no matter how much you’d like it, it seems far more likely that steve isn’t asking you out. is this how king steve asked girls out? all suave and chillaxed? steve wasn’t like that anymore and it leaves you with no hints to the true nature of his question.

even if he was asking you out, you’re not supposed to track that road you remind yourself. a beat later, you realise as the word date hasn’t even passed steve’s lips and feel embarrassment flush up your neck. friends. you were friends. friends go to parties together! all the time!

“yeah, that sounds cool.” you smile at him, pressing down the hot flush you can feel fighting onto your cheeks. casual. friends. not a date. you could do this.

speeding back to the task at hand, you miss the fist-pump steve does, hidden behind the shelf and the quiet ‘yes!’  from his lips.

—

how do you dress to go to a party with your friend, that you secretly wish was a date, without giving it away?

apparently, you don’t know the answer. at least half of your closet is strewn across your floor, a dozen different combinations tried and failed as you stare at yourself in the mirror. you twist back and forth, eyes analyzing like a hawk and a groan escapes you when you realise you don’t like this outfit either. 

your hands pull at your face, dragging down your cheeks dramatically as you lean closer to the mirror and lock eyes with yourself. “it’s not even a date.” you whisper, trying to shake the nerves that are ruining every outfit you try. 

it works; at least long enough for you to pull on one of your better pairs of jeans and the new top you had yet to wear out and finally, feel satisfied. you’re just swiping the last of your mascara when the horn of a car outside startles you, your hand nudging forward and dolloping black onto your cheek. 

“shit.” you mutter and move to the window, peeking through the slats to spy steve’s bmw in the driveway.

“shit.” you repeat, wetting your thumb and doing your best to wipe the black from your cheek. in the mirror behind you, you catch the blink of your alarm clock. god, he’s 10 minutes later than you both agreed and you’re still not ready. 

gathering your jacket and bag, you nearly stumble down the stairs, your footsteps thundering as you speed towards the door. rushing in a blur past the kitchen, you call out your hasty goodbyes and step outside, the door swinging closed behind you.

the night air is cool, the moon nearly full in the sky and beyond the rumbling of the engine in passing cars, it’s nearly peaceful outside. you don’t keep him waiting. 

despite the chill, steve’s been waiting outside for you, leaning back on the hood of his car with his arms folded over his chest. he looks good; his navy shirt stretched deliciously over his biceps, hair fluffed in his usual style, looking a picture of cool. it’s broken immediately when he stands up in a rush to meet you, feet stumbling for just a moment before he catches himself. you must imagine the tips of his ears tinted redder than normal. 

“hey!” the word is tinged with excitement and steve’s smile betrays it as well, wide and bright. “you look— you look great. amazing.” 

it’s impossible to fight the hot glow that surges to your face, forcing you to duck your head to hide it for only a moment. god, the plan to not swoon has immediately foiled. you’re about to undoubtedly fumble through an awkward thank you when steve steps closer, one of his hands reaching for your face. 

“sorry, y’just got some,” his thumb grazes your cheek, gentle as he can, over the swatch of black you hadn’t managed to rub off. your breath catches in your throat, the skin burning where he touches it and you fight the urge to follow his warmth when he drops his hand. “makeup— there was something, uh, on your cheek.” 

when you don’t say anything, words stuck in your throat as you rein yourself in, steve ambles on nervously. “sorry, i’m late i just— shit, i hope you weren’t waiting, i just thought since when i pick you up for work, you’re always a bit late and—” 

“—steve.” you cut him off, finally finding your voice. “you’re perfectly on time; any longer and i would have started fussing over something silly.” 

it seems to relax steve a bit, hearing your voice and your assurances and you see the drop in his shoulders. he turns and opens the passenger door, a handsome smile back on his face as he nods at it. “after you then.” 

the radio fills the airwaves on the drive to the party, crackly as you move between towers and you bounce your foot in time in hopes to iron out some of your nerves. you take a deep inhale but it manages to make things worse; the alluring scent of steve’s cologne floating through your nose, a musky mixture of bergamot and something sweet. 

as steve parks up down the road, your eyes latch onto the house of the party, obvious from its flashing lights and occupants that spill out of every entrance. even before you open your door, you can hear the faint notes of a duran duran song playing inside. you clip the door closed and lean against it, waiting dutifully for steve to lock it and join you on the sidewalk. 

the two of you begin to wander, steve’s pace slower than expected but when he nudges his shoulder against yours and begins to speak, you know why. 

“y’know,” he begins, nervousness wrapped around each of his words. “i’m actually surprised you agreed to go on a date with me.” 

the word hits you in the throat, halting your feet. it shouldn’t shock you too much but considering you had spent the better half of this evening convincing yourself this wasn’t a date, you can’t help your next words. 

“wait, this is a date?” 

you cringe as you watch steve take in your words, expression dimming and shoulders slumping like he can’t control it. fuck.

it’s like you’ve kicked a puppy and through the elation in your heart, you feel a sick twist in your stomach knowing that you’ve accidentally hurt steve. head spinning, you try to grapple with explanations but steve beats you to the punch. 

“well, i guess that explains why you said yes.” the deprecating tone hurts your heart, a thousand thoughts competing for your attention but none as loud as the one that says tell him the truth!

“steve—” you begin, but he’s already speaking.

“would you have still said yes... if you knew that i was asking you on a date?” steve’s voice is smaller than you’ve ever heard it and his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows tightly, his words tinged with worry.

it’s a good question. the battle between your head and heart pulls you in both directions; your lovesick feelings denied by your desperation to never experience another failed date. especially with steve.

“i don’t know.” you answer honestly, only to desperately want to reel the words after you said it having seen steve’s face fall further.

the next words come out frazzled, too loud, as you try explain. “it’s not that i didn’t want to! i’ve just had so many— too many first dates that go nowhere. dates where they want to end in a parked car or stop calling or—” 

cutting yourself off with a sigh, you try not to feel embarrassed at the ramble of your shitty love-life attempts. man, this evening was not going how you expected. you dig into your feelings, knowing that you owed steve the truth, that he deserved to hear what you truly meant. he waits patiently, his face giving away only a trace of his hopelessness.

“i like you steve.” you say, voice closer to a whisper at your admittance, eyes fluttering closed as you swallow your nerves. “i like you a stupid amount and i-i don’t think i could handle the heartache if you were just another failed first date.” 

a beat of silence. and then, the softest oh falls from steve’s lips in his realization which forces your eyes open again, seeing some of the sadness lift from his figure. you can feel his gaze scan your face and he chews his lip in thought for a moment. your heart all but purrs in delight when he reaches out, his warms hands unfurling your clenched fists (when did you do that?) to hold in his delicately.

without thought, you begin to commit the rough feel of his hands, the curl of his fingers that keep your own warm and toasty.

“unfortunately, i can’t see the future, so it would be wrong to tell you i know we’ll be perfect for each other.” he smiles, a hint of teasing hidden within it. 

the joking tone hits you the wrong way and you frown, pulling back a little. is he making fun of you? steve senses it instantly, tugging you closer and this time his tone is all serious, raspy and earnest. 

“but, i can promise i will take every date you offer because i like you stupidly.” he blinks, seeming to register that he hasn’t said what he meant. “a stupid amount! i like you a stupid amount, too. as well.” 

your words. he’s using your words to tell you how he feels. shit, you two haven’t even been on a date yet — somewhere in your mind, it quietly occurs that this means steve must have liked long before he worked the nerve to ask you out. you think your knees might be wobbling from the wonderful feeling in your chest that aches in the best way; you want it to live there forever.

“which means even if you offer me just tonight, i’ll—” he pauses and smiles so sweetly it makes your knees weak. “i’ll take it.” 

you can’t help the hesitation in your bones, the feeling after another first date that crushed your thoughts about love running reminiscent under your skin.

but there’s something about steve. something that yearns, that makes you want to risk the future heartbreak, the wide-eyed late nights, and potential stupid mistakes all for the chance of his love. 

oh well, if it went wrong, future you could hate you. 

“you better not break my heart, harrington.” 

the sunshine grin that breaks on his face could be bottled and sold, you think as it sets your body buzzing with giddiness. steve grins boyishly, tilting his head back as if he really has to think about it, pretending to hmm. 

his eyes catch onto the house party and another emotion ripples across his face, gone as quick as it was there. the genuineness in his response touches you with surprise. “only if you promise the same.” 

you want to kiss him. the urge has twisted into your heart-strings and you’re sure that steve’s gaze has dipped to your lips for just a moment. turning your head to survey the party, you realise that if this time you’re actually right this time, that there will be plenty of time for all of it.

you tuck the desire to taste his lips into your heart, bookmarked for later, and instead shift your hands in his, intertwining your fingers. you tug him along and finally begin the both of you walking in the direction of the party again. 

“next time,” you begin, your smile already giving away your teasing. “use the word date, idiot.” 

steve’s hand tightens in your own and when you glimpse at him, unable to help yourself, you can’t miss the beautiful blush on his cheeks. 

“oh, i’m sorry, sweetheart. i’ll make sure to be clearer next time.” he drawls, a touch of sarcasm in his words. he pulls you even closer, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from him. your arms are touching, you realise fondly. 

“you better be.” 

he leans in, breath warm on your ear and you can’t help but melt at the next words that fall from his lips, soft and natural. “do you wanna go on a date tomorrow?” 

you can’t help your giggle, flustered and hot in the face because man, is he good at this. it makes you ache with want, wanting and wishing with every part of your being that this works.

even though you shouldn’t be promising anything dates before the first has happened, you know steve and you nod eagerly — then tug him into the music, your hands keeping you connected as you step into the dark together.  

tomorrow, when he picks you up in his car, bouquet in his hands, you will let the buzz in your body take over because god if that doesn’t make you weak in the knees. 

when he takes your hand, a thought will niggle in the back of your head, something about waiting for the other shoe to drop, for this date to be the last and for him to stop calling, stop dropping off flowers and kisses, for him to stop gazing at you like you hang the goddamn moon.

another thought, steadier and sure, will tell you that you might be waiting awhile.

— 

just tagging ppl below! hehe sorry mutuals u HAVE to see this but also this means u shud tag ME in everything <3

@hawkinsindiana @harringtonbf @parkerroos @cptnleviackerman @skylergisondo @cultivatingkindness @aphrodites-perfume @lurkymurker @familyvideostevie @rogersharringtons @sattlersquarry @yellowharrington @upsidedownwithsteve​ @milkiane

#i left this alone long enuf that when i reread it to check for posting i was like DAMN WISH THAT WAS ME #anyways its a tale as old as time and that tale is that i LOVE steve harrington #he's my wife he's my babygirl he's the man for me <3 #ruby writes #steve harrington #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve fic #steve harrington imagine #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #bada bing bada boom #i hate ppl who misuse tags so thats all from me folks #other than that enjoy!! <3

[grimsneverendingfuneral]

I WROTE SO MUCH TODAY YESSSSASSFDGJFJBVVB

#like three whole heavy ass chapters #this story is so fun and angsty and magical and ROADTRIP #the dynamic ugghhhfffff #jeff loves lotus and lotus loves jeff the tale is as old as time and its so simple yet so painful #i just wrote a whole chapter with Dawn and Nina my beautiful lesbians #Dawn is a six foot three trans red spandex wearing tattoo adorned metal worker with a bleach blonde long ass mullet #im so in love with her and so is jeff #he legit asks her if he can kiss her #nina gives him an intense ass oracle reading while lotus sleeps on the couch aww bby cancer #anyways im so glad i churned out like that much content today i rlly needed it #i was starting to feel crazy not being able to make it pas THIS ONE SCENE FOR LIKE THREE WEEKS #turns out i just had to not write that scene and just make up a new one #being a writer is literally like dog training your brain 👍 #writing #me #grims thoughts #is that a tag???? idk

[avatar-aaang]

the cross i must bare is being in fandoms where the girl characters are shoved aside for gay ships to be the most popular thing in the tags

#personal #i wanna say its my fault for liking shonen stuff but like. this is a tale as old as time #but im literally sick to death of this one fucking gay ship in one fandom. a ship ill never name bc those people are INSANE #and like whatevrr have your gay ships but there are literally a bajillion other combos and you go with that one?? #and then god forbid i like a 'straight' ship #like sorry i just think it makes more sense and they have more chemistry and also I LIKE HER #also just bc a ship looks straight does not mean it is straight #these characters have both shown to be on some kinda queer spectrum #like im a firm believer in bisexuals as a bisexual myself #and im in a straight passing relationship too and i like seeing those #being with someone of the opposite or another gender doesnt mean its straight!! #im getting off track maybe but anyway. i hate the main gay ship but at least the art is nice #i just wish the ship i do like was more popular bc it has potential and showcases the care and love and depth my girl has

[too-deviant]

jackie and wilson.

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summary: you haven’t been given a quest, but you have made it your personal mission to make luke castellan smile.

pairing: luke castellan x unclaimed!reader

word count: 4.1k

content: broody!luke, teenage dirtbag!luke but also not really, sprinkles of mean!luke, r is unbothered and does not gaf about his lil emo boy act, this is four thousand words of r being a pain in luke’s ass, probs will make a part 2 bc i love them your honour 

notes:  speaking my truth: i am a british gal. any banter in this about the new england states is entirely stuff i got from reddit so plz don’t scrutinise my american states knowledge

the layout of this fic is very much inspired by @murdrdocs if that wasn’t obvious but also icarus if u want me to change it i will jus say the word :00

PART I — she blows outta nowhere, roman candle of the wild 

All things considered, you took the news of your heritage pretty well. 

Sure, there was a lot of yelling — mostly through the wall after you locked yourself in your room and started packing a bag — but at least you didn’t sit on it in denial for several hours. 

Honestly, you should’ve seen it coming. 

The first time you realised you could see things nobody else could, you tried to admit yourself into a ward. Your mom went a little panicky, and she never did perform well under pressure, so she caved and said you were special. Too special for the other kids at your school, too special for anyone to know about it. 

After that, she got more tense. Eyes darting around whenever you guys went out in public, hand lingering for a second longer on your back before she sent you to school — as if she felt like she’d never see you again. She would stay up at night and read you old Greek tales before you went to sleep, and acted way too serious about it. More serious than when she would read you Dr Seuss. 

Honestly, it was a miracle you went unknowing for so long. Maybe you were insignificant, or maybe the Stymphalian Pigeon that tried to kill you after school was just slow — because you were seventeen when you got attacked by your first monster. 

You took it out pretty easily — and by that, I mean you outran it through the bustling streets of your hometown until it flew messily into a bus and you dodged your way to your apartment in a flurry. Your mom’s resolve cracked like a thin layer of ice and you were packed and ready to go to this camp she spoke of before the clock had hit four-thirty. 

Most of the yelling that you guys did was along the lines of — “I can’t believe you waited this long to tell me!” — and — “I didn’t want you to leave!” — “I get that, but seriously mom, I almost got eaten by a bird today. A little context going in would’ve been nice!”

You threw yourself into a taxi — much to the disdain of your mother, who insisted on at least getting you to the hill. You then reminded her that she would have to pay the fare all the way back to their apartment and it honestly wouldn’t be worth it and that you’d call her when you got the chance. She let you go with a huff, folding her arms across her chest and creasing the silky material of her pink blouse. 

The next hour was about as awkward as taxi rides go, even more so when you got out in the middle of nowhere. You weren’t even sure you were at the bottom of the right hill but sent the poor guy on his way anyway and prayed to whoever your divine parent was that you weren’t about to get gunned down by an angry farmer for mistaking his land for a summer camp. 

Thankfully, the empty fields shimmered into something worth travelling for when you took a tentative step across its threshold. The sun seemed to get brighter and the breeze became softer. It was nice from where you stood, and it probably would’ve gotten nicer the closer you got. 

Had you not tripped over a rock and tumbled down the hill ungracefully, landing in a heap at the bottom, a few feet away from a dirt path that split off in two directions. You sat up with a huff, blowing your hair out of your eyes and squinting at your surroundings now that they were much closer. You didn’t bother to heave yourself up, catching your breath and letting your gaze flitter over the scenery. 

It was cute. 

Then the distinct sound of horse hooves clipping against the ground evaded your ears, and you looked up to greet the centaur who now stood above you. You thanked the gods for your moms intricately detailed bedtime stories as you pulled yourself up onto your feet and allowed yourself to be introduced to Chiron and Mr. D, who then led you to the four story house that overlooked the valley. 

Your induction was swift and sweet — since you pretty much knew and had accepted everything already. There were a couple of glances and muttered comments about how you had gone so long without being targeted, but Chiron had said he wanted you to get the tour before dinner so you could settle straight to bed after the campfire, and caught some young kid by the t-shirt as he ran past, asking him politely if he could send Luke over. 

The awkward two minutes it took for your tour guide to reach you stretched on for a painful amount of time, but you would relive it a hundred times over if it meant you didn’t have to experience the agony you called your first meeting with Luke Castellan. 

He was tall, with a dark mop of curls that hung over his furrowed brows. His skin was tanned from all the time he spent in the sun, and his shoulders were broad enough to intimidate, but not broad enough that you were intimidated. He was your age, seemingly, and the cuffs of his green cargo pants brushed against his ankles only an inch higher than they would sit on an average person.

His most memorable feature, however, had to be the deep scar that stretched from the top of his left brow all the way to his cheekbone — it was jagged and sharp, cutting across his eye roughly, as if he had been clawed. He probably had. It was raised and shone pink under the sun, so you could tell it was fairly new, but it had healed over enough to indicate that Luke was probably tired of hearing people ask about it. So you didn’t. You barely gave it a glance before you raised your brows at him with a cheeky grin and gave him your name. 

He nodded minutely, one of the only movements he made after he’d parked himself in front of you other than the sliding of his eyes from one person to another as they spoke to him. After Chiron and Mr D had given him the rundown, he gave a slight nod of his head in one direction before walking away and expecting you to follow. 

You caught up to him, sidling up on his left with a huff and a smile, “I’m getting the feeling that you're sorta sick of this giving this tour all the time.” 

He didn’t respond. He just looked at you, and then stopped walking, watching as you froze two steps ahead of him before shuffling back to his side sheepishly. Then he lifted an unbothered hand to the right, “Those are the strawberry fields.” He then gestured ahead, “That’s the beach.” And then to the left, “Those are the training fields.”

Then he started walking again, and you hesitated for only a second before following, “Wow. Don’t give me too much information all at once.” 

Your sarcastic comment was ignored, and Luke nodded towards the bank of cabins you were nearing, “These are the cabins. Twelve. One for each Olympian. You’ll stay in the Hermes cabin until you’re claimed.”

“Right.” You nodded, “God of Travellers. Makes sense.” 

He let out a breath, not pausing in his stride as he passed through the curve of houses, not sparing a glance to any of them. You took notice of how the other kids looked at him in apprehension, with a hint of fear when he got too close. He cut down an alley between two cabins — one with a dangerous amount of barbed wire across the top and another that glowed gold under the sunlight — before the pair emerged through the trees at a pavilion. 

“This is where we eat.” He said. “Dinner is soon.” 

“Cool.” You nodded, “What are the options? Because if food here is lacking, then I will be packing.” 

You let out a useless chuckle at your own joke, but it landed flat. “Yeah, that wasn’t funny.” You muttered lowly. With a click of your tongue, you glanced over the horizon and pointed at something from afar. A tall structure that stuck out the tops of the trees, “What’s that?”

“The climbing wall.” Luke answered plainly. 

“And that?” 

“The Amphitheatre.”

You looked up at him, pulling a face he didn’t bother to glance at. Then you noticed a bunch of campers filing through the trees and into the pavilion the two of you stood at the edge of. They entered in groups and made their way to their designated tables, chattering and gossiping as they did. 

You looked at Luke, “Well, that was…great. Truly, a riveting experience. I will say, though — your delivery needs some work. The dark and gloomy act works most of the time, but not when you’re giving a guided tour.”

That got him to look at you, and you held back your triumphant smirk. He frowned, “What?”

You shrugged, “I’m just saying, nobody is going to listen to you talk about this place if you describe it like this.” You lowered your tone into a subpar impression of his voice, and you swore you saw his brows twitch. Clearing your throat, you waved a hand, “No need to worry about that now, though. Just point me in the direction of the Hermes table and I’ll be out of your strangely well-conditioned hair.”

Another eyebrow twitch. You were getting the hang of this. Maybe one day you could get him to move other parts of his face! 

You half expected the boy to ignore you and walk off — and he did. But it was in the direction of the Hermes table, so you counted it as him showing you the way. Most of the campers were seated by the time you’d arrived, and you were thus forced to sit yourself on the end of the bench, uncomfortably beside him. He was unbothered. 

During dinner you were swiftly introduced to some of your peers — Chris Rodriguez gave you a lopsided grin and informed you politely that you would need to sacrifice some of your food before you got stuck into it. Travis and Connor Stoll sidled up on either side of you as you grumbled at the hearth, and yapped your ear off about the fundamentals of camp. 

(So all the sneaky stuff Chiron doesn’t know about. Like how you can skip out on archery training if Lee is the one running it because he never has it in him to snitch. Or that the pegasi stables were the go-to hook up spot for summer campers, but the back of the Amphitheater was the go-to hook up spot for the year-rounders. When you asked what the difference was, they winked, and when you asked what happened if a year-rounder hooked up with a summer camper, they chuckled and walked off.)

Chiron gave you an introduction that made you feel like a new kid being asked to tell the class one fun fact about yourself, and around six kids at your table asked if it hurt when you fell down the hill. 

Overall, a good first night. As far as first nights at a summer camp for half-gods goes. By the time all the campers had gone back to their respective cabins, you were ready to turn in and clock out for the day. 

But you wanted to try one more time. Last attempt, and then you’d let it go. 

When Luke — who you had discovered earlier was the counsellor of the Hermes cabin, and apparently a role model for the kids — came over and silently handed you a folded orange shirt with a leather cord sitting on top of it, you smirked. 

“Hey, now we can match. How cute.” 

He blinked at you, “Everyone is wearing the same thing.”

“The same shirts, you mean.” You tilted your head, “But we’re both wearing green cargos. And white socks. White sneakers.” Your grin widened as you watched his eyes flit down your form, taking in the outfit you had on. You were right — the only difference between you two was the white tank top you had on, soon to be replaced by the shirt he had just handed to you. You thought for a moment that it would work, that he would make a face, or say more than two sentences to you in response. 

But he didn’t. He just huffed and walked away, and you watched with an appalled expression. You narrowed your eyes. 

Okay, so maybe you weren’t ready to let it go yet. 

The next morning, you were rudely awakened by a small child who was sprawled across your torso, having shifted from his own sleeping bag that was beside yours. He couldn’t have been any older than six, his orange camp shirt sitting like a dress on him, and if he wasn’t snoring into your chest, you would’ve thought he was adorable. 

But you really needed to pee. 

After you slowly but surely lifted him back onto his own pillow, you stood up with a stretch and stepped precariously over the other kids, balancing carefully on the tips of your toes so you didn’t step on any of them. The sun was barely rising, and you were the only one awake, so you held your breath and reached out for the handle of the bathroom door. 

“That’s not your bathroom.”

You flinched, losing your balance and toppling back. A hand between your shoulder blades prevented you from crushing any of the kids on the floor, and you steadied yourself before meeting the eyes of the person who spoke. 

Luke was staring intently at you, his eyes blinking hard as if he’d only just woken up. He was in nothing but a pair of blue sweat-shorts and you fought the urge to rake your eyes over his bare torso, watching as he lowered his hand back to his side, “That’s the counsellor's bathroom.”

“Right.” Came a low mutter, under your breath. Then louder, you asked, “Well, where is the campers bathroom?”

“Outside.” He answered, “Around the back of the cabins.”

“Out—“ You started, and then realised everyone else was asleep and swiftly lowered your volume, but kept your expression exaggerated. Wide eyes, furrowed brows. “Outside?”

“Yes.”

“But…it’s cold out there.”

“We have a controlled climate.” He said, folding his arms across his chest. His biceps tensed, “It’s never cold.”

You let out a sigh, throwing your thumb over your shoulder and pointing at the door, “Can’t I just use this one? You aren’t using it, and everyone else is asleep, they’d never know!” 

He stared at you blankly and stayed silent for a long time. You wouldn’t be surprised if he just never said anything until you walked away, which you were well prepared to do, letting out a deep breath and folding your own arms over to preserve heat as you clambered towards the front door, muttering complaints under your breath the whole time. You made it three feet (or two sleeping bags) away from him when he finally piped up. 

“Be quick.” 

Turning around, Luke was already making his way back to his own bed, and you ogled shamelessly at his back muscles as you shuffled to his bathroom and made your way inside. You did your business quickly as requested and washed your hands under the low pressure of the sink before cracking the door open once more. The cabin was the same, everyone else still sleeping calmly. Luke was standing by his bunk, now clad in black shorts and his camp shirt. He paid you no mind when you padded back to your sleeping bag, grabbing your bag and stifling through the clothes you had packed. 

You walked up to breakfast with the unclaimed girl you had met the previous night — Lana — and listened and she told you intently about the lore of Luke Castellan. 

“He never used to be the way he is. He was happier before, always grinning. More than ready to help anyone here. He was…well, everyone either wanted to be with him or be him.”

“And then what happened?”

“He went on a quest. It went wrong. He came back with that ugly scar and he hasn’t been the same since.”

You made a comment that the scar wasn’t ugly, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d add on that it made him look pretty hot. But you did know better, and you knew that Luke was three people ahead of you in the line and could probably hear what you were saying. So you kept that tidbit to yourself and ate your cereal in silence. 

When breakfast was over, you stood from the bench and turned, only to stop short when you realised Luke was standing behind you. Looking up at him, you raised a brow, “Yes?”

“I’m showing you around today.”

“You showed me around yesterday.”

His lips tightened, “We’re actually doing stuff today. Seeing what you’re good at.”

“Oh.” You ran your tongue over your teeth and nodded, “Well, where do we start?”

“Archery.” 

Turns out, you were pretty awful at archery. Even after you’d stopped firing arrows into the treeline, you still never hit the middle of the target. Lee had to correct your posture four times, and you broke six arrows. Eventually, you decided that Apollo was not your father, and shuffled over to where Luke stood beneath the shade of a tree — where he had been standing the whole hour. 

“Y’know, just because you’ve got this broody bad boy thing going on, doesn’t mean you have to linger in the shadows all the time.” You commented, picking at your fingernails and readjusting the long sleeve you wore under your camp shirt, “You just look weird.” 

Luke pointed at your cheekbone, “You’re bleeding.” 

You huffed, “I know.” You kept holding your bow too close to the side of your face and the feathers of the arrows kept scratching you whenever you let them fly. Lee mentioned how most people make that mistake the first time round, but you’d done it so much that he’d cut your lesson short and told you to get a bandaid from one of his siblings. You didn’t. 

He stared at your cut for a moment, like he was thinking hard about something. But he didn’t, and pushed himself off the tree he was leaning against and brushed past you, “Let’s go to the forges.”

You were better at blacksmithing than you were at archery, but the sword Charles Beckendorf was helping you weld still came out wonky and discoloured. He was a nice kid, funny, and your lowered spirits from your previous task had been quickly uplifted despite you not having much skill in his department. He let you keep the sword anyway, and you swung it jokingly at Luke as he led you to the Amphitheater. 

You made swooshing noises as you did so, chuckling when he didn’t so much as flinch, “Don’t act so tough, Castellan, I could take you out even with a dodgy sword.”

“You couldn’t.” He muttered, “I’m the best sword fighter here.”

You let out an over dramatic gasp, running ahead and swivelling around so you could meet his eyes, “Holy shit, was that…did you just…tell me something about yourself?” You grinned and his frown deepened, “Aw, Luke. We’re getting somewhere! This is amazing, I’m so proud. Soon enough we’ll be best frien — “

Before you could finish your incessant teasing, Luke grabbed your forearm and yanked you in front of him just as a kid on an out-of-control Pegasus toppled past you. You watched him disappear in mild shock, before looking back at the boy in front of you, “Hey, thanks. Almost got trampled. How embarrassing.”

He narrowed his gaze, “Do you not take anything seriously?”

You shrugged, “Not really. I’d ask you the same question, but…” You made a face. It was obvious that he was very serious, even if he never used to be. 

“Let’s go.” Was his boring response, moving swiftly past you and into the Amphitheatre so quickly you would’ve assumed he was trying to get away from you. (Which he definitely was).

You weren’t really all that bothered, not when you were having so much fun pissing him off. 

It took all of ten minutes for Luke to put your sword fighting lesson to an end. Not only had you insisted on fighting with the wonky sword rather than a working training one, you also kept pushing him with your hands whenever he got too close. 

“That’s not how you’re supposed to do it.”

“Hey, it’s working, isn’t it?” 

You were pretty shit at it anyway, so you didn’t fight him when he said you were cutting your lesson short. You simply tucked your weapon onto the sheath he’d handed you and followed him down the hill to the dining pavilion. 

“So, where are you from?”

He didn’t answer you for a couple of minutes, something you’d been well prepared for. But you couldn’t help but ask — he intrigued you. A little too much, maybe. 

You continued, “Because you seem like a Mass guy.”

Luke stopped in his tracks, turning to you, “Mass…achusetts?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, fighting off your amused smile when he pulled a face. Finally, an expression!

Truth was, Lana had told you he was from Connecticut. You just wanted to see how he’d react, if he would react at all — apparently he isn’t immune to everything. 

“I’m from CT.” He made it very clear, and you tried your hardest not to laugh. “Okay? I'm not some Boston Masshole, got it?”

You raised your hands in surrender, “Got it.” 

He stared at you for a second longer, as if to ensure you really did have it. Squinting at your amused smile before nodding and continuing his walk. You thought it would go back to silence, but apparently you’d lit a fuse. 

“I mean, what makes you think I'm from MA?” He asked, his tone of voice so appalled you’d think he’d been accused of some sort of crime. “Do I smell like shit?”

A chuckle, “What?”

But he just whirled on you once more, lifting his arm and gesturing to his pit, “Do I? Do I stink of shit?” 

You didn’t feel like sniffing him, so you just shook your head, still laughing, “No.” 

“Then what — ?” He stopped, narrowed his eyes, “Where are you from?”

You tried to hide your smile, but it was getting really difficult. The last two days he’d been nothing but broody and miserable, one word quips being his only form of communication other than dark frowns. But one mention of Mass and he’s suddenly down to chit chat? You couldn’t help but laugh — unfortunately, it only spurred him on. 

“You think this is funny?” He scoffed, nodding, “Yeah, bet you’re from Maine too.”

Your laughter continued, little giggles spilling out of you whenever you thought about the situation too hard. You shrugged, “I don’t think I wanna tell you after this.”

Luke nodded like he was expecting you to say that, “Something a Mainer would say, I’m sure.”

You grinned wide, very proud of yourself for getting a visceral reaction out of the boy — even if you had to piss him off to do it. Just as you went to reply with a witty comeback that would have him ranting and raving for the rest of the night, the dinner conch sounded, interrupting what you’re sure would’ve been a very entertaining conversation. 

You walked on past him, not stopping, but slowing down so you could cough into your fist, “Flatlander.”

You didn’t look back but you did hear him scoff in shock, and you were sure he stood there frozen for at least twenty seconds because he entered the pavilion way later than you did. He made a point to fix you with an annoyed stare as he sat down a few people away from you — and Chris raised a brow. 

“What’d you do to him?”

You shrugged, digging into your mashed potatoes before anyone could tell you to wait until you’d made your offering, “Told him he looked like a Bay Stater.”

He chuckled, wincing under his breath and shaking his head, “You’re evil. I like it.”

You smirked and said nothing — but whenever your eyes flickered over to Luke, his were just flickering away from you.

#@lia’s works #joined a new england subreddit for this fic #so pls give it some love #taking requests #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #pjo

[noraechovixon]

This post is literally me just trying to get rid of cringy tags I’d made when I was in highschool on here. (Mostly ended up as rambling in the tags)

#how do I even get rid of old tags #this is basically just a guess at how to #already getting kinda lazy #been playing xenoblade 3 and it’s actually a lot of fun #noah is one of the better protags I’ve seen in the series next to shulk for sure #rex was literally the worst #maybe he gets better toward the end but I’m not enduring rex for that long even if I liked nia alot #somehow haven’t been spoiled on that game either which is kinda funny but I wouldn’t care anyways since I just didn’t like xenoblade 2 #i even prefer xenoblade x over two and that game had some of the most annoying lyrics in its battle theme #i gave up after hearing something something whole different planet for like 20 hours Jesus #i do enjoy mechs though so I’ll probably give it another go after I finish with xeno 3 #i wonder if this is really gonna get rid of the old tags or if I’m just vibin here talking about a series I’ve both played most of #inserts all the reyn time jokes here please #you’re a lifesaver #Noah’s voice is really sells the character for me along with having interesting party members #one game I couldn’t stand just because it would reiterate constantly was tales of arise #the game looked really great but it loved to tell you about something that just happened like 5 seconds ago for the rest of the playthrough #i got the halfway point and just said that’s enough out of that one and went back to playing xiv #game also had some bad grind if you were playing on the harder modes like I was #but strangly you could pay for level ups or items to help you level up which is both really stupid and why isn’t those options in the game #pay us money so you don’t have to grind as much when it should have been a reward #also day one costumes in games are the worst #like if your going to make extra outfits just to make more profit thats stupid too #rather just pretend the dlcs in games don’t exist unless it’s an expansion or something like with dark souls games as an example #those games would give you plenty to justify spending your money on them.

[seonghrtz]

𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒚 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 ✶ sukuna ryomen

꒰ true beauty ! ꒱ an arrogant prince falls under the spell of an enchantress, who turns him into the hideous four-armed beast until he learns to love and be loved in return.

❛❛ in the end, she was his salvation and his downfall ❜❜

pairing. prince!sukuna ryomen x (belle)fem!reader.

contents. the beauty and the beast alternative universe, fluff, slight angst, enemies to lovers (?), he fell first he fell harder, royal!au, sukuna true form as the beast, occ sukuna.

amy's note. hi sweetie, this is amy!!! this is the first story in the fairy tale series, starring sukuna ryomen in the beauty and the beast universe. initially i was going to put sukuna in the cinderella story, just because of the fandom memes (jjk x disney princess), but i think he as an arrogant beast who has never loved anything would make much more sense and fit in better. anyway, that's it, i hope you like it!!!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!

𝕺𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐔𝐏𝐎𝐍 𝐀 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄, in a kingdom far away, there was a handsome young prince who lived in a magnificent castle, and even though he had everything he wanted, the prince was spoiled, selfish, and rude. But one winter night, in the middle of a storm, an old woman came to the castle and offered him a simple rose in exchange for shelter from the cold and rain. Disgusted by her ugliness, the prince scoffed at the offer and sent the old woman away. But she advised him not to be deceived by appearances because beauty lies within people and in their hearts, and when he sent her away again, she was transformed into a beautiful enchantress. The prince tried to apologize, but it was too late, as she realized that there was no love in his heart. And as punishment, she turned him into a hideous four-armed monster and plagued the castle and everyone who lived there. Ashamed of his monstrous appearance, the prince hid in the castle with a magic mirror as his only window to the outside world. The rose she offered was enchanted. It would bloom until the twenty-first year, if he learned to love someone and it was reciprocated by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would be undone, otherwise he would be doomed to remain a monster forever. Over the years, he fell into despair and lost all hope. After all, who could love a monster?

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ✶

The day began with a flurry of activity in the small village. Residents greeted each other as they went about their morning chores, and others opened their shops. Y/n, a beautiful young woman, made her way through the crowd with one goal in mind: to get to the village library. After buying some fresh bread and gathering the missing parts for her father's latest invention, the young woman made her way to the small library to return the book she had borrowed last week.

"Good morning, Mr. Higuruma." Y/n said as soon as she saw the man from the shop holding a pile of books. "I'm here to return the book I bought last week."

"Miss Y/n, good to see you again," the brunette said, placing the pile of dusty books on the table in the corner of the shop. "Unfortunately, the delivery of new books has been postponed until next week."

"Oh, no problem." Y/n approached the bookshelf, put the book she had picked up the week before back in its place, and ran her finger along the spines of the other books, looking for one in particular. "I think I'll take this one!" She took the book from the shelf and showed the cover to Higuruma, who just laughed.

"That must be the tenth time you've read that one."

"But this is the best book, certainly my favorite. Distant kingdoms, battles, and a princess who saves the prince. Sometimes, it's hard not to see myself as the protagonist. Living an adventure and finding her true love, something much bigger than life in the country.”

"Since you like this one so much, I'm giving it to you as a present."

"Mr. Higuruma, I can't accept that!" she looked at him, astonished at the idea, while the man in front of her just smiled.

"You're my most loyal customer. You've read all the books I have in the library. And maybe the only one with a real interest in reading."

"Thank you, that's very nice of you." Y/n smiled happily at the gift and the bookseller's gesture.

"You're welcome. Next time I'll have some new books for you!"

"Thank you, Mr. Higuruma!" Y/n waved, smiled, and left the shop. The young woman stared at the cover of the book, the worn blue leather and the worn gold lettering, it was a simple book, but with an extraordinary story behind its simplicity.

The young girl was so busy studying the book that she barely noticed Gaston's not-so-subtle appearance at her side.

"My beautiful lady!" Gaston said, thickening his voice and stopping in front of Y/n, preventing her from continuing on her way.

"Gaston..." she rolled her eyes and looked away from the book in her hands to the man in front of her.

"My beautiful Y/n, when are you going to realize that we are soul mates and forget about these books, which by the way have no figure, how can you like this so much?" He said, taking the object out of the girl's hands and giving her (or trying to give her) a gallant smile.

"Well, you just have to use your imagination while reading and I think you're reading the wrong signals about us," the girl took the book back and turned away from the man, "I have to go now, have a nice day, Gaston."

Y/n walked quickly back to her house, which was a short distance from the village. When she got home, she left the fresh bread on the breakfast table and picked up the tools her father had asked for before going down to where he was conducting his experiments and inventions.

"Dad? I brought what you asked for."

"Thank you, dear!" The girl's father came out from under the machine and took the object his daughter had offered him.

"Dad..."

"Yes, dear?"

"Do you think we'll live here for long?"

"Oh, dear, when I become a great inventor, we'll travel the world!" Her father stepped out from under his invention, ready to finally put it into action. "Let's hope it works, dear!"

As soon as the machine was turned on, the parts began to move and a sound was heard, the axe on top moved down and cut the wood on the bench.

"Dad! It works! Your machine works!" the young woman said excitedly.

"And the axe didn't fly away!"

"Dad, you're going to be a great inventor!" The young girl hugged the older man, finally her father's dream would come true and he would become a great inventor.

"Oh dear! I must run and pack my things to go to the city!" The old man said excitedly, pacing back and forth, "You don't mind being alone for a few days, my child?"

"Of course not, Dad. Go after your dreams." The young woman smiled openly and hugged her father once more. "Come, let's pack your things for the trip."

Together with her father, the girl went up to the house and helped him prepare the small suitcase along with some snacks for his trip to the city. Ever since they had moved to this small village in the countryside, her father had been working tirelessly on various inventions that had failed one after the other, causing his reputation as a madman to grow among the locals. However, she had seen him fail and never give up, that was his dream, to become a great inventor and help people with his inventions and there was nothing that would stop him until he managed to make his inventions work. And if his invention surprised the judges in the competition and managed to win first place, maybe Y/n would not have to settle for a life in the country while her father could work on his "crazy gadgets".

The young woman stroked the horse's copper-brown coat while her father checked the bag with some tools.

"Be careful on your way, Dad." Y/n hugged him and helped him onto his horse.

"I'll be back in a few days, don't worry about me!"

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ✶

The next day, Y/n awoke in high spirits, hoping that her father's trip to the city would be smooth and without danger. She put on a simple blue dress and headed for the kitchen, but before she could prepare breakfast, a knock on the door echoed through the house, along with a voice she knew well. On tiptoe, Y/n reached the door and looked through the peephole, seeing Gaston from an unfavorable angle.

"My dear Y/n! Are you home?" Gaston thickened his voice and puffed out his chest, even though no one could see him, "I have an offer you can't refuse!"

The young woman took a deep breath and opened the door with a fake smile on her lips. "Good morning, Gaston. Don't you think it's a little early for one of your proposals?"

"Oh, my beautiful lady, it's never too early for my irrefutable proposal!" Gaston said as he walked past Y/n and sat down in the dining room chair. "You know, my dear, I think you've noticed by now that I'm the best suitor in the village. It would be a shame for you to let me go. And lately, I've been thinking of certain ways to take our relationship a step further."

"Our relationsh–" The young woman's speech was interrupted by Gaston, who abruptly rose from his chair and spoke again.

"Think about it, a little house in the country, a small herd of cattle, a plantation, seven, no, ten children with my beautiful face, and you know what else I see?" Gaston looked at Y/n, but before she could answer, he continued, "My beautiful wife greeting me after a day's hunting.”

"You've been using your imagination a lot..." the young woman whispered to herself.

"And do you know who my wife is that I see in this beautiful future of mine?" Gaston approached the young woman, pressing her against the wall.

"How could I imagine?"

"It's you, my beautiful Y/n."

"Oh, Gaston!" Y/n held back the urge to make an expression of disgust at the scenario the man in front of her was describing, "I'm... flattered...? Yes, flattered by such affection, but I think this is wrong, you know, I think you've made a mistake.”

"How can I be wrong? You're the only one in this village whose beauty is on my level.”

"Beauty? Is that all you care about?" Y/n looked at him confused, she knew Gaston was shallow and self-centered, she just didn't get that he was trying to get her to marry him just because she was "the most beautiful girl in the village".

"And what else should I care about?"

"Well..." The young woman took a deep breath, "I think it's time for you to go... oh, I just heard Lefou say he's spotted a huge, fast deer that can't be caught!”

"A huge, fast deer that can't be caught?" Gaston's eyes widened. "Well, call your crazy father later so we can decide about our marriage."

"That won't be necessary because I'm not marrying you!" Y/n closed the door and locked it with all the locks her father had created. Ignoring Gaston's cry that she would be his one day, the young woman turned, leaned her back against the door, and slid to the floor.

Marry Gaston? It was a terrible nightmare. Not even if Gaston was the last person on earth would Y/n marry him. She had so much to do, so many places to explore, so many people to meet. And if she was going to get married, it certainly wouldn't be to someone as shallow as Gaston; she wanted someone who really liked her and her personality, not her looks.

The girl slowly got up, unlocked the door, and looked outside her house to see if the man had already left and wouldn't come back when he realized the huge deer was a lie. She did, however, notice a familiar copper brown horse galloping quickly toward her house.

"Phillipe?" She left the house, closing the door behind her, and walked toward the animal. "Where's my father, Phillipe?" The girl said, noticing her father's absence and the horse's exhilaration. "Phillipe, take me to my father, please!" Desperate to think of the worst that could happen to her father, the young woman pulled out the cart containing her father's invention and quickly mounted the horse, asking him to lead her down the path to where her father was. Phillipe raced through the dark paths of the forest, causing Y/n to shiver at the eeriness of the forest, while her mind wandered far away, worried about her father's current situation.

Phillipe began to slow down as a huge castle appeared on the horizon. It was so large and terrifying that it looked like something out of a horror book, though it seemed to blend into the desolate landscape around it. But perhaps what intrigued Y/n most was that she had never heard anyone in the village talk about the place ⸻ and it intrigued her even more because the castle didn't seem to be secret at all.

Y/n dismounted and looked around, trying to find the courage to open the gate in front of her. She would be lying to herself if she said she wasn't afraid of this dark, unknown place. But the important thing there wasn't to prove her courage, but to find out where her father was. The gate was cold and made a terrible noise when it opened, but that didn't stop her from continuing.

"Hello!" The young woman said loudly as she entered the castle. "Is anyone here?" She narrowed her eyes, trying to see in the pitch black, but quickly found a lit candelabra. "I'm sorry to barge in uninvited, but I just came to get my father! Please... help me find my father!" Y/n walked aimlessly through the castle, following only her faint intuition of where he might be. "Hello? Is anyone there?" She spotted a staircase that seemed to lead to the top of one of the castle's towers. "Dad, are you there?"

"Y/n, my daughter?" Her father's weak voice called out.

Quickly, Y/n left the chandelier on the stone near the wall and ran to her father, who was trapped. "Dad, what are you doing here?"

"My dear daughter..." the girl's father coughed before continuing, "You must run before he arrests you too..." Before the girl could say anything, footsteps echoed through the room.

"Who's there?" She looked around for the person who had just entered the scene.

"I'm the one asking the questions, impertinent girl." The stranger's gruff voice sent a shiver of fear down the young woman's spine.

"Please let my father go!" The girl pleaded.

"I'm not in the mood for that."

"What? How can you be so cruel? Can't you see he's in bad health?"

"He should have thought twice before he broke into my castle."

"Please let him go! I promise we will never see each other again!"

"Empty promises. I'm not really interested in that."

"Then..." the young woman took a deep breath, "let me take his place."

"My daughter! Don't do this!" her father said with tears in his eyes. How could he lose his daughter right before his eyes.

"Things are getting more interesting..." the person in the darkness laughed. "A fair trade, the old flesh for the new... uh, I'll take that trade, impertinent girl."

Before Y/n could speak, her body was thrown into a cell. The young woman quickly approached the iron bars and watched as her father was brutally removed from where he lay. Her father screamed her name and tried to get away from the person, but it was impossible to escape.

In the darkness, the girl could see the castle owner's back. The broad shoulders were adorned with black lines that ran the length of his back and, most shocking to the young woman, the four muscular arms that protruded from the side of his body.

Y/n was not only the prisoner of a shady castle owner with a serious personality problem but also of a giant monster with four arms who could finish her off with a snap of his fingers.

Minutes later, the owner of the castle reappeared and abruptly opened the door to the cell Y/n was in. The girl looked up at him, her eyes watering, afraid of what might happen to her from this moment on.

"Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to follow me?"

"Where are we going?" she asked confused and scared as she followed the four-armed man.

"The basement..." his voice came out loud and clear, making the young woman shudder. "Shall I take you to a room, or would you rather stay in the tower?"

The girl had no answer, just followed him through the dark corridors of the castle.

"What's your name?" Y/n asked without thinking and quickly pressed her lips together, regretting her sudden action.

"Dinner will be served at eight." He said, opening a door at the end of the corridor, "If you don't come, you won't eat."

"Do you want me to have dinner with you?" the young woman asked him incredulously.

"It's either that or starve to death. You're lucky I'm giving you a choice..." he rolled his (four) eyes.

"I'm not having dinner with you!”

"THEN STARVE!" The four-armed man shouted angrily, frightening the girl, and slammed the door with a loud bang.

The young woman stared at the door in front of her, feeling tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She began to feel overwhelmed and staggered to sit on the bed. She had lost the two most important things to her on the same day: her father and her freedom. Now, she would have to live with an arrogant and rude being. Slowly, she raised her trembling hands to her face and wiped away the hot tears.

"Who's there?" she asked, startled when she heard a knock at the door. The girl got up and opened the bedroom door to find nothing there. She breathed a sigh of relief, but was startled to see a pot of tea and a cup in front of the door. "Tea?"

"Hello, Miss!" The cup said smiling, startling the girl.

"Itadori, what did I say about scaring our guest?" The teapot said, rebuking the cup's attitude.

"I'm sorry, Nanamin, and I'm sorry, Miss, for scaring you.”

"What... what's going on?"

"Forgive our rudeness," the teapot said, "I am Nanami Kento, I work as a mentor for the young Itadori Yuji, who is the younger brother of the master.

"Master?"

"Uh, Sukuna, the big guy with four arms."

"Sukuna..." Y/n whispered his name. The name actually suited him. "So this is like a magic castle?"

"You could say that," Nanami said, "Anyway, we came to ask you if you would like a cup of tea."

"If you don't mind, I'd love to." The teapot approached the cup and poured the warm liquid into it.

"Miss..."

"Please, just call me Y/n."

"As you wish, Y/n." Nanami said, being quite serious for a teapot, "I apologize for Master's inconsiderate and rude attitude."

"Mr. Nanami, please don't apologize for his actions, it's your master who should apologize, not you."

"She's right, Nanamin!" Itadori said with a cheerful voice, "My brother should stop being such a jerk and start learning not to be rude to people!"

"You two are quite different, Itadori," the young woman smiled at the cup in her hand.

"Let's just say I got the good genes from the family."

"Well, I'm afraid we've talked too much already, we have a feast to prepare. Come on, Itadori."

"Do you need any help?"

"Of course not, Y/n, you are our guest of honor!"

The young woman watched as the teapot and cup left the room, then threw herself back onto the bed. She had just been talking to a teapot and a cup... perhaps the things in there were not the most conventional she had ever seen in her life.

Filled with curiosity about the place, Y/n got out of bed and walked almost on tiptoe to the door, slowly opening it. She poked her head out of the room and looked around to see if anyone was guarding the door to the room she was in. When she realized that no one was there, she left the room, closing the door behind her, and began to wander around the castle with a curious look on her face.

This castle was certainly different from all the castles that appeared in the stories in the books she used to read. The decor was gloomy. The curtains looked as if they hadn't been opened for years, leaving everything in a darkness that the young woman was beginning to get used to.

Y/n climbed a flight of stairs and continued her exploration of the place. When she reached a dead-end hallway, she was about to turn around and return to her assigned room, but a faint glow from the slightly open door piqued her curiosity. Before entering the unfamiliar room, she looked around to make sure no one was around and entered, making as little noise as possible.

The darkness of the room prevented her from noticing the clutter and some upside-down furniture in the corner of the huge room, but also the glow of a beautiful rose near the glass door of the balcony that had captivated her. Before she could touch the glass that held the rose, Y/n felt a large, strong hand grab her wrist.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING HERE?" Sukuna's hand closed tighter around Y/n's wrist.

"I was just–"

"I THINK YOU BETTER GET OUT OF MY WAY BEFORE I KILL YOU!" Sukuna let go of the girl's wrist, not caring how much force he used against her, and turned to look at the rose in front of him.

The words frightened Y/n more than Sukuna's tone. Fearing that the threat would become reality, the young woman ran as fast as she could, looking for an exit from the castle.

When she found the huge door, she opened it without a second thought, feeling an icy wind against her body. Her thin dress wasn't enough to keep her warm in the cold or protect her from the falling snow, but it was all she had and she wasn't going back to the castle just to find something to run away with ⸻ the chances of meeting Sukuna were high and something she didn't want at the moment.

A wolf's howl echoed through the forest, and Y/n tried to run as fast as she could in the snow. Her body was freezing more and more with each passing second, and her head was spinning since the only thing she had eaten during the day was the cup of tea Nanami had offered her. Dizzy, the young woman's vision blurred, and she stumbled over a branch that was in her way. Turning around, she saw a wolf staring at her with a hungry look and wished that the animal in front of her wasn't staring at her. But before she could get up and run away in a lousy attempt to save herself from a natural predator, Y/n noticed a huge figure coming up behind the wolf and picking a fight with the animal.

Gradually, the young woman felt her body tremble with fatigue and the cold, but she soon regained some consciousness when she felt large, muscular arms holding her. "You've come to kill me, Sukuna...?" her voice came out weakly.

"Shut up, you impertinent girl."

Before she could respond to Sukuna's words, the young woman felt her body give way completely, and everything went black.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ✶

When Y/n finally regained consciousness, she felt something soft underneath her and a pleasant warmth, but the sound of an argument brought her headache back. Sukuna's voice, the only one she could recognize, was loud and angry, and he didn't seem to mind shouting.

"I SWEAR, GOJO, THE NEXT TIME YOU OPEN YOUR MOUTH, I'LL MELT YOU INTO LIQUID WAX AND THEN BREAK YOU IN HALF.”

"Master, I'm sorry to bother you."

"WHAT THE FUCK, WHAT'S WRONG, GETO?!"

"Miss has just woken up."

"So you finally decided to wake up?" Sukuna turned to the young woman, his four arms crossed in front of his broad chest, and approached the sofa where she lay.

"What happened?"

"You fainted"

"How long was I unconscious?"

"About three days."

"What?" The girl looked at him, startled by his answer. Could she have been unconscious for so long just because she hadn't eaten?

"It's been two hours at most, now stop complaining because the food is getting cold." Sukuna turned his back to the young woman, allowing her to notice several scratches along his length, surely acquired in his fight with the wolf.

"Excuse me, miss, it is a pleasure to meet you, I am Gojo Satoru, currently your candelabra, but always at your service!" The talking candelabra approached the young woman, "If you would allow me, I would like to take you to the dining room, as some are incapable of doing such kindness!"

"That's very kind of you, Mr. Gojo," Y/n smiled slightly and got up from the sofa, following the chandelier into the dining room. She sat down at the end of the table laden with food and shivered slightly when she saw Sukuna join her in the meal, taking a seat at the other end of the table.

Dinner took place in deep silence, on the one hand there was Sukuna who didn't know how to start a conversation politely and on the other there was Y/n who was in an internal discussion with herself about Sukuna's heroic act of fighting a wolf hand to hand after she had run away. He saved her life even when he didn't have to ⸻ and even after he threatened to kill her.

When she finished her dessert, the girl picked up the glass bowl filled with water and a cloth from the table and slowly approached Sukuna, "Do you mind if I help you with those bruises?" she asked in a low tone, but audible enough for the man to hear.

"Whatever." Though he seemed indifferent to the girl's request, Sukuna moved and turned onto his back, giving her better access to his bruises.

"Does it hurt?" she asked as she dipped the cloth into the water and gently wiped the bruises.

"Not a bit."

"I'm sorry, I'm to blame for what happened to you.”

"I'm glad you know. If you hadn't had the stupid idea to run off in the middle of the night, I wouldn't have been hurt," he said in a rude tone.

"Well, I wouldn't have run away if you hadn't scared me and threatened to kill me."

"And I wouldn't have yelled at you if you hadn't entered the forbidden wing."

"You have never forbidden any wing of the castle, just like you never said I couldn't explore it." The young woman's words left Sukuna speechless. In fact, he had never forbidden her to go to his room. She had done nothing to deserve being cursed and threatened. "You should learn to control your anger. Otherwise, you'll only drive away those who love you." The room fell into such a deep silence that neither of them dared to speak for several minutes. When she had finished cleaning Sukuna's bruises, the girl placed the cloth on the table and turned to leave. "I think I'd better go back to my room. Have a good night," she whispered.

"Y/n..." Sukuna's calm voice brought the young woman to an immediate halt. It was the first time he had called her by name.

“Yes?”

"Have breakfast with me tomorrow."

"Was that supposed to be a request?"

Sukuna rolled all four eyes, "Could you have breakfast with me tomorrow?"

"Yes, we could." she smiled broadly, showing her teeth, amused by Sukuna's frustrated look, "I would love to, thank you for asking."

"Yeah... whatever." Sukuna looked away to some random point. "Go to sleep, impertinent girl."

“Good night, Sukuna.” The young woman smiled openly.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ✶

When Y/n rejoined Sukuna the next morning, her first reaction was to examine the cuts on the man's back. The young woman felt guilty about the injuries, for if she had thought twice about what she was doing, the fight might never have happened, and Sukuna might never have been hurt.

Breakfast was eaten in silence, with discreet glances exchanged. For some reason, after being rescued by Sukuna, the young girl had a new vision of the four-armed monster. It's true that he was rude and arrogant most of the time, but there was something about him that had the potential to be a kinder being. Sukuna wasn't purely evil. She could see that at dinner last night when something started to blossom between them. Sukuna, on the other hand, tried to remember that the girl was kind to everyone around her. He was no exception to her kindness and sweet touches.

"I want to show you something." Sukuna said, controlling his tone, which surprised the young woman.

"What is it?" She said curiously.

"Could you..." he sighed deeply "Could you come with me?"

"Of course!" She smiled at Sukuna's attempt to be polite.

Sukuna led the young woman through the castle, which, unlike the day before, had its curtains and windows open and didn't look so frightening in the light.

"This is... an apology... for scaring you yesterday..." Sukuna's voice was lower than usual, and the tips of his ears turned red as he looked away from the girl in front of him. He certainly couldn't look into the young woman's eyes, not when he thought her eyes were as beautiful as the starry sky.

The four-armed man opened the doors in front of him, revealing to Y/n a vast library filled with books from floor to ceiling.

"Oh my! That's wonderful!" Y/n smiled and looked around, "How did you know I liked books?"

"A hunch."

"Sukuna..." The girl approached the man, "I accept your apology, and thank you for showing me this place. I admire you for trying to change." The young woman's hand reached Sukuna's upper right arm, and she gently smoothed the boy's skin under her hand, sending a shock through Sukuna's huge body. "So, which book shall we read first?" she asked after noticing the sudden and strange silence of the man in front of her.

“We?” Sukuna looked at the woman in disbelief.

"Yes, us!" Y/n smiled, pulling Sukuna with some difficulty to look at the books in the large library. "I think we started our relationship in a very bad and strange way, but I think we can change that... if you want to, of course."

"You are too good for this world..." Sukuna whispered.

"What did you say?" Y/n turned to Sukuna, puzzled by what the other had whispered.

"That you talk too much and that you're very curious," he crossed his four muscular arms.

"Aren't you the least bit curious about the world?"

"The world is a cruel place full of arrogant men who dream of being gods, I don't think that arouses my curiosity.”

"You have a very dark view of the world..." The young woman looked at him in surprise.

"It's just reality..." Sukuna shrugged.

"And why don't you try to change that reality?" The girl ran her finger along the back of the books, "Maybe if you looked for a new perspective, you might be surprised by the result."

"I have a feeling I don't have time for this anymore.”

"And why not? There's a whole world of possibilities out there, behind the bars of the castle."

"Do you think I've been stuck in the castle all these years because I want to be? Ever since they turned me into that four-armed monster, I've been hiding. What do you think would happen if I walked around the village like a normal person? People would hunt me down and try to kill me.

"I'm sorry, I hadn't thought of it that way..." Y/n stared at the floor as she clutched the book in her hands, ashamed that she had never thought of it from that perspective.

"Whatever"

"Why did you turn into a monster?" The girl's words were out of her mouth before she could think twice. "Oh, I'm sorry for being so pushy."

"An old witch cursed me..." Sukuna shrugged as he sat down on one of the sofas in the library.

"And there's no way to break the spell?"

"It's more complicated than you think..."

"Sukuna... why are you hiding under this rude and arrogant personality?" The young woman approached him and sat down beside him.

"I've always been like this, so stop giving me a hard time." He rolled his eyes and looked away from the girl.

"You can trust me, I won't tell anyone. Everything you tell me here will stay here." She put her hand on Sukuna's hand, which was resting on his thigh.

"Which book did you get?" he asked, diverting the subject.

"One of adventure and romance," the young woman smiled, respecting the man's decision not to talk about his past, "would you like to read it with me?"

Sukuna sat down on the sofa with a false expression of disinterest and watched as Y/n smiled excitedly as she opened the book, ready to tell her favorite story to the man next to her.

Neither Sukuna nor the young woman noticed the passage of time, and they were only slightly surprised when Geto, the clock, and Gojo, the candelabra, entered the library to announce that lunch was served.

They ate lunch and dessert in silence, both afraid to break the pleasant atmosphere between them. When they returned to the library to finish the story, the young woman noticed the snow falling outside the castle.

"Sukuna... instead of reading again, why don't we go outside and enjoy the weather?" The young woman suggested with a slight smile on her face.

"Do you want to go outside?"

"Come on, it'll be cool!"

After they were properly warmed up (this was the first time the young woman had seen the boy with some kind of cloth covering his upper body), they both went out side by side into the castle's huge garden. Slowly, the girl walked away from Sukuna, and suddenly, in her actions, she bent down and picked up a handful of snow in her hands, forming a ball, and then hit the four-armed man in the face.

"Is this a request for war?" Sukuna bent down to form two snowballs with his four hands.

"Are you telling me you're too old to have fun?" she smiled, hiding behind a tree as she made another snowball.

A snowball fight ensued, with the young woman laughing every time she hit Sukuna with a ball. Y/n ran through the snow, laughing awkwardly, until she felt her body thrown to the ground and pinned by a body more than twice her size.

"What? Have you run out of things to do, you impertinent girl?" Sukuna smiled sideways, bringing a blush to the girl's cheeks beneath him.

"If you stand over me like that, it won't be as much fun..." Y/n looked away.

"Ah, but I find it very funny," he laughed anasally. One of his hands reached for the girl's chin, pulling her face (gently) so that she was facing him again.

"You have beautiful eyes..." the girl whispered, but because of the short distance between them, Sukuna was able to hear her perfectly.

"All four eyes? Or just a pair?" He smiled provocatively but was secretly curious to hear the girl's answer.

"Hm, I meant all four."

Sukuna's heart skipped a beat and he felt a warm feeling grow in his chest. He knew from the moment he saw her that his heart had chosen her, it was as if it broke into song every time she appeared in his field of vision. He knew he was lost the moment she was kind enough to take care of a monster like him and tend to his wounds. But there was still a problem. There had to be reciprocity, and he knew it wouldn't be possible to be loved, not by someone like her. In the end, she was his salvation and his downfall.

Sukuna stepped down from the young woman and lay down on the snow beside her, looking up at the clear, cloud-filled sky. "My parents never loved me. They said I was useless, a scum, a terrible curse in their lives. They never cared about me or Itadori."

"You deserve so much more, Sukuna, I can see it now." Y/n turned her head to meet the man's face in profile. "It can't have been easy, but I'm glad that you're here now," by my side, she added mentally.

“Y/n…”

“Yes, Sukuna?”

"Is there anything you've always dreamed of doing if you were in a castle?"

"Ah, well, there's only one thing I always dreamed of when I read fantasy books..."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ✶

"That dress looks magnificent on you, miss!" Shoko, the wardrobe, said with a slight smile on her face, she had chosen a long, voluminous yellow dress that looked like gold.

"I love the dress," the young woman smiled sweetly and smoothed the skirt with her gloved hands, "It's the most beautiful dress I've ever seen. Thank you for helping me, Shoko."

"Go ahead, dear." Shoko said with her calm tone and a lazy smile on her lips, "Have fun with Master Sukuna."

Y/n left the room, feeling her heart beating hard against her chest. It was as if the organ was ready to jump out of her body and run away. Perhaps the girl was worried about the extent to which her feelings had grown since meeting Sukuna ⸻ and especially after the new vision she had after being saved by him. Though he had his monstrous appearance and rough manner to keep his vulnerability from being exposed, the girl knew that deep down, Sukuna could be good and kind.

"Not bad." Sukuna smiled sideways as he met the girl in the hall. He was wearing one of his prince suits, which had been transformed for this very situation.

"Can you really dance?" she asked, trying not to sound so doubtful about the supposed waltzing skills of the man in front of her.

"Since I was five years old." Sukuna replied, taking the girl's hand and placing it on his shoulder while holding her other hand tightly. His lower arms found a place around her waist together with the upper one that was already there. "Are you ready?"

"Yes." She said with a smile.

The music echoed around the room, and Sukuna led Y/n, swaying from side to side until the girl got used to the dance moves. Their eyes met for a moment, and Sukuna lost himself in the depth and brilliance of the woman's eyes before him. The man had always found her beautiful, ever since that dimly lit night in the tower when they first met, she was certainly the most beautiful woman in his eyes, there was no beauty that could compare to hers. As time passed, Sukuna realized that her outward beauty was perhaps only comparable to her own inner beauty, which managed to be much more beautiful. Y/n was much more than a pretty face, her manner, her personality, and her admirable kindness and empathy were some of the things about her that enchanted him every moment he spent with her. And sometimes he thought that maybe he could have a place next to her, even with his monstrous appearance and questionable personality ⸻ she always made him want to be the best version of himself, even if he didn't know what that was yet.

"Y/n..." Sukuna's voice came out with a softness that startled him, "I want to take the chance to tell you something."

"You can tell me anything you want, I'm all ears."

"I..."

"MASTER! MASTER!" Gojo, the candelabra, ran toward the couple, who were lost in their own world.

"What is it, Gojo?" Sukuna's voice came out harsher than the tone he had used before.

"The castle is being attacked!" Gojo said in despair.

"By whom?" Sukuna's hands tightened slightly around the girl's waist, pulling her closer to his body.

"I think they are villagers, and your father is with them." Gojo turned to the young woman.

"My father? Is my father here?"

"Yes, but it looks like he's under arrest."

"Gojo, take Y/n to a safe place. If they want to come, let them come."

"What? But what about you, Sukuna?" the young woman looked at him worriedly.

"Don't worry, just do as I say." Sukuna slowly released the woman from his arms. "I'll take care of any disturbances, just stay safe."

"But I don't want to leave you."

"You're not leaving me, you're just protecting yourself from danger. That's what's best for you."

"I can decide what's best for me!"

"I'm well aware of that." Sukuna laughed weakly, "Just let me take care of it, and I'll get back to you safely."

"Promise me?"

"I promise."

The young woman followed Gojo to one of the farthest rooms in the castle, promising the chandelier that she would stay there until everything was settled. As soon as Gojo left, Y/n paced the room, thinking of a plan to rescue her imprisoned father. Sukuna and the castle staff would be busy fighting the townspeople, and it would be the perfect time for her to act in secret.

Determined, she opened the glass door leading to the balcony and assessed the distance; fortunately, she wasn't too high up to take a fatal fall. She opened the wardrobe and took out all the cloth she could find, tying the end of each into a tight knot to make a makeshift rope. With the rope in her hand, she threw it across the balcony, tying one end to the railing. A little clumsy, this being the first time she had done anything so radical, she jumped off the balcony, holding tightly to her rope, and climbed down calmly, looking straight up. Once on the ground, Y/n ran as fast as she could, looking for an exit ⸻ or entrance ⸻ that would lead her to the castle gates.

"Dad!" she cried in a low tone so as not to draw attention to herself when she spotted a cart stopped near the entrance to the castle.

"Daughter?" Her father's weak voice caught her attention.

"Dad!" she ran to the wagon, worried. "Are you all right?"

"I wonder if you're alright! Did Gaston manage to save you?"

"Gaston?" she asked as she searched for a stone to break the lock.

"Yes! When I returned to the village, I asked Gaston and the others to help me free you from that monster."

"Dad, Sukuna is not a monster!" The girl used all her strength and smashed the stone against the padlock, breaking the object and freeing her father.

"How is he not a monster, dear?"

"He's kind and brave, he can be polite when he wants to be. I realized that he's not a monster." The young woman hugged her father.

"Oh dear, you're in love with him..." the older man said more like a statement than a question.

"What? No, we're just friends." She looked away, embarrassed by her father's words.

"I think we'd better stop Gaston then, he's come with the intention of killing him," her father said worriedly.

"What?" she looked at her father wide-eyed, "Father, stay here, please!" The woman grabbed the hem of her dress and ran to the castle entrance, watching the chaos unfold around her. The townspeople were fighting the castle furniture, which was actually its bewitched inhabitants.

"Miss!" Gojo's voice caught the young woman's attention. "You're supposed to be in your room. What are you doing here? Master Sukuna will kill me if he finds out you're not safe!"

"I have to find Sukuna," she said desperately, climbing the stairs, "Gaston will attack him, I can't let that happen!"

"But Miss, that's dangerous!" Gojo tried to stop the girl, but to no avail.

"And Sukuna is in danger!"

The young woman ran until her feet hurt, and when she reached the hall where she and Sukuna had danced minutes before, as if they were the only two in the world. However, the sound of a gunshot and an agonizing scream caught the girl's attention and pulled her out of her thoughts.

“SUKUNA!”

"Y/n?" Sukuna turned to the girl, looking frightened, as if he had seen a ghost.

"Gaston..." the young woman whispered as she saw the brunette stand up and point his gun in Sukuna's direction.

Without thinking, the young woman ran up to Gaston and threw herself on him, knocking the gun out of his hands. Y/n stood up and threw the gun out of Gaston's reach.

"Oh, my beautiful lady! I've finally found you! Your father has been worried about your disappearance!" Gaston stood up with a smile, "If you'll excuse me, I have a monster to kill!"

"He's not a monster, Gaston!"

"Oh dear, don't tell me you're going to defend that monster?"

"Like I said, he's not a monster. And if anyone is the monster here, it's you, Gaston!"

"What did you say?"

"That you are the monster here!"

"You bitch–" Before he could finish his speech, Gaston punched Y/n in the face, and as the girl fell to the floor in surprise at the sudden impact, the man kicked her in the stomach, sending her rolling across the floor of the hall. And before Gaston could do anything, Sukuna punched him in the face.

"I'll make sure you never lay a finger on her again." Sukuna grabbed Gaston's neck and led him out onto the balcony.

"Please! Please don't kill me!"

"You should have thought twice before you touched her with your filthy fingers."

"Sukuna!" The young woman's voice made Sukuna lose focus on the man he was holding by the neck. "Don't kill him!"

"But he-"

"Please"

Sukuna took a deep breath and looked back at the man, who was almost out of breath. Sukuna left Gaston on the ground, coughing to catch his breath as he turned and headed for the girl on the ground, but something hit him in the side of his body. He staggered backward in fear, seeing the dagger in his waist, and fell with someone else. Gaston, who was behind Sukuna, overbalanced and fell off the balcony, letting out a pained and desperate scream.

"SUKUNA!" Y/n ran over to the man crouched on the ground.

"Are you all right?" Sukuna asked, reaching for the young woman's warm cheeks."You should be safe. Why are you here?"

"I was scared..."

"How could an impudent girl like you be afraid?" The man smiled provocatively as he lay on his back on the floor, feeling the blood run down his side.

"I went to save my dad," Y/n controlled the urge to cry, "and I wanted to know if you were okay."

"Did you really think I would lose to a guy like that?"

"Sukuna... I'm scared..."

"It's okay, I'm here. I promised I wouldn't leave, I'll keep that promise."

"I want to be with you... by your side." The young woman leaned down, resting her cheek against the man's bare chest.

"Y/n... I have something to tell you." Sukuna felt his heart beating heavily against his chest.

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

"Do you..." Y/n stood up in surprise and looked at Sukuna, "Do you love me?"

"Very much."

"I... I love you too." A broad smile formed on the girl's lips.

Sukuna's hand reached Y/n's face before reaching her neck and pulling her into a soft kiss. Sukuna's heart, which had been celebrating the mutuality of the girl's feelings, melted as soon as the young woman's soft, delicate lips met his ⸻ a warm, comfortable feeling settled in his chest. When they pulled away, Sukuna found his forehead on hers, and their breaths became one. Slowly, Y/n pulled away and opened her eyes, surprised by the sight before her.

"Sukuna... you..."

"What about me?" The man looked uncertainly at the woman before him.

"You no longer have four arms and four eyes!"

"What?" He stood up quickly and looked down at himself. The wound from Gaston's dagger had disappeared, as had a pair of arms. Around him, the castle was angelic and glowing again, shedding its monstrous appearance.

The spell was broken.

And he was free again.

"Thank you..." Sukuna hugged Y/n tightly.

"Why do you thank me?" The young woman broke the hug and got up from the ground, standing in front of Sukuna.

"For loving me even when I was a monster." His voice was lower than usual. Maybe he wasn't quite used to all this new feeling.

"As I said, you deserve many of the good things the world has to offer."

"Speaking of which, I think we can get to know the world now, as you said, look for new perspectives."

"We?"

"And why shouldn't we?"

"You really want to take me with you to see the world?" Y/n looked at him excitedly.

"I promised to stay by your side, didn't I? And by the way, I don't think I could have a better partner than you to look for a new perspective on things." Sukuna smiled and pulled Y/n around her waist, pressing their lips together once more in a sweet, quiet kiss. "I want you by my side, forever."

"If you thought that impertinent girl would ever let you go, you thought wrong." Y/n wrapped her arms around Sukuna's neck, bringing their faces closer as she smiled, "I love you too much to let you go. Whether you're human or monster, I'll stay by your side, forever."

"Just so you know, there's no turning back. You'll be by my side forever from now on." Sukuna smiled teasingly.

"That doesn't sound like a bad idea." The young woman quickly sealed her lips with Sukuna's.

Sukuna was free of a spell that condemned him for his past actions, and now he would fall under the spell that was the love he felt for the girl in front of him without any regrets.

© SEONGHRTZ, 2024ㅤ⸻ㅤall rights reserved. please do not copy / steal / translate / modify any of my works !

#꒰ 🪷 ꒱ ࣪𓂂 ׅ ⤿ 𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒚 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 ! #☆ . . seonghrtz !! #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna ryomen x you #sukuna fluff #sukuna fanfic #sukuna ryomen fanfic #sukuna ryomen fluff #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: X-Men

Stephen King: Submitted for the approval of the midnight society, i call this the tale of when the X-Men fought the literal embodiment of hunger King: it was for a charity comic Poe: oh right right of course Lovecraft: of course Barker: gotcha Koontz: wowww! x men!!

King: so kitty pryde goes to the get some food King: but then suddenly King: she starts losing weight! King: now normally King: i think that sort of this is good King: usually i think the opposite is way scarier King: but this time King: it's bad

King: what's the cause of Kitty Pryde's unnatural weight loss? King: it's the evil mutant ghost embodiment of hunger King: the monstrous force known as King: "hungry" Barker: ba ha ha ha Poe: clive

Barker: "Hungry!?" King: yeah, his name is hungry Barker: like, the adjective? King: yeah i Barker: ah ha ha ha King: i don't see whats so funny King: yeah, his name is hungry King: see, this one time he said to his dad "i'm hungry" King: and his dad said "hi hungry, i'm dad"

King: anyway the point is that its about kitty pryde King: that super hero you all know and love Koontz: i like superman! superman is the best super hero King: ha ha well dean you're certainly entitled to your opinion King: there's no reason for us to fight King: King:

Alan Moore: [appearing in a clap of thunder] who dares call upon the arch magus? King: we need you to settle an argument Moore: speak your question, mortal, and gain wisdom King: who's the best superhero Moore: Moore: do you have any questions that aren't about that

Moore: the arch magus can see through time, control the very movements of the cosmos Moore: and you dare to ask a question about comic books King: well i just thought since you love comics so- Moore: the answer is herbie popnecker King: Moore: herbie popnecker is the best super hero

King: i'm sorry, herbie popnecker? Moore: yes herbie popnecker King: Koontz: Barker: Poe: Lovecraft: Moore: "you want i should bop you with my lollipop?" Moore: haha it doesn't get old!

Moore: i must now return to my mountain fortress [disappears in a clap of thunder] King: Koontz: Poe: Barker: Lovecraft:

#midnight pals #the midnight society #midnight society #stephen king #clive barker #edgar allan poe #dean koontz #hp lovecraft #alan moore

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Alastor - [ DEVOTION Pt. 4 ]

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A/N: This is all angst and fluff because I'm working on two other smut fics. Please accept this impromptu filler chapter for now (I'm sorry ❤️). I hope you enjoy it anyway.

WARNINGS: [ SFW ] + [ SLIGHTLY MATURE THEMES ] + [ FLUFF ] + [ ANGST ]

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You waited patiently for Alastor, standing at the window, admiring the fading moon as the sun's rays gradually inked the sky. It’d been a longer night than you imagined, but you felt energized rather than overtly exhausted.

You supposed that's what having a child felt like: tiring but never lacking excitement. A smile crept onto your face at the thought, heart racing at the image of a small hand wrapping around your finger and the possible jingle of childish laughter following the gesture. It was all you could think about.

Would they resemble you or Alastor more?

A boy or maybe a girl?

Twins?… Oh, twins would be so extraordinary but troublesome!

Oh, who am I to complain… they'd be just as lovely as Alastor.

You jumped from one thought to the next, unable to keep track of your puzzling emotions but deciding your only concern should be the present. With a steadying breath, you gazed around the room, searching for something to do or a task to occupy yourself with since sleep failed you. The room was spotless besides your belongings, which you'd already reorganized after stealing one of Alastors dress shirts to replace your blood-stained nightgown. There was a bookshelf full of various stories tucked into a corner near an old rocking chair, and the idea of reading to relax didn't seem terrible.

“A good story can be grand entertainment…”

Your father coined the phrase and always followed it with an unbelievable bedtime reading. Those nights filled with his storytelling were your fondest childhood memories, and you considered passing the sentiment onto your child. You imagined Alastor more prone to telling bedtime stories; he had the charisma, the soothing voice for it, and you had no doubt they'd become attached to him doing so.

Your smile grew wider, getting ahead of itself as you waltzed over to the tall mahogany bookshelf. “Hm…what shall we read, little one?” you placed a hand on your stomach, gently rubbing circles against it as your other grazed the worn book spines. Each title caught your eye, all ranging in subject but consistent with what Alastor told you about his mother's efforts to advance his literacy.

“Some might say she willed proper speech out of me, but I wouldn't be where I am now without such vigorous practice…”

He was far from wrong; your father had educated you similarly, claiming that despite young women of the time being expected to rely on their beauty, you'd advance farther with brains.

“Let's see..” you mumbled aloud, reading a few titles to narrow your decision, “…perhaps Penny Dreadful? No, The Grim Brothers Tales’?..” A soft giggle left your lips as you considered how ridiculous you sounded speaking aloud, but it couldn't be helped. You were longing to talk, to shout with joy, but resisted the urge in fear of causing a minor disturbance.

Finally, a book held your attention, not as worn as the others but fairly withered. “Alice in Wonderland shall do.” You pricked it from the shelf, sitting in the rocking chair while opening its front cover. The words on each page were familiar, immersive as intended, and for a few quiet moments, you thought of nothing but its premise as you whispered nonsensical sentences in their written order.

Time passed quicker than you thought; by the third chapter, you heard the bedroom door creak open, and in stepped a refreshed Alastor. You beamed a coy smile his way as he shut the door behind him, returning your smile with tired eyes while walking over to you, “Mornin’ darlin’..”

“Good morning, mon cher. You look much better.” you muse as he leans down to kiss your head, “Thank you, sweetheart. Once I get some rest, I might feel better as well.” He doesn't stand up fully, content with being at eye level with you to converse, and you unconsciously blush from the intensity of his gaze. Strands of his hair were curled into its natural waves, dripping with tiny water droplets, slithering down his mocha skin with every breath he took. It was a miracle his glasses didn't fog up, resting neatly on his face and doing nothing but accentuating his piercing brown eyes.

You could get lost in his stare; that ocean of amber took your breath away effortlessly, and you wondered if the trait would pass on to your child.

Indeed, it would… surely he'd love it.

A lump formed in your throat as anxious excitement built in your chest. You needed to tell him calmly, but the longer you waited, the more you wanted to hide away.

Did he want this?

“I’d love you and our child more than anything…”

He'd said it himself, but it was hard for you to deny that Alastor was very vague with his genuine emotions. Even as his wife, you found him hard to read

There was only one way for you to find out, and stalling wouldn't solve anything. Alastor studied your expression as you thought, perceptive to the minor changes in your mood, “My dear, are you alright?” he asked firmly. You perk up, nodding slowly while clutching the book to your chest, “I-Im, I'm fine... It's just that I have to tell you something rather delicate..”

Alastor raised a brow, watching as you bit your lip and stared at your lap, “The news you alluded to earlier this evening?” His eyes narrow, glinting with prowess as he ponders the possibilities of your announcement.

With a heavy sigh, you nod again, shutting the book before placing it in your lap, gripping it tight with one hand as the other instinctively rests on your stomach. You feel his gaze shift from your face, fixated on your abdomen, as you stumble out an explanation.

“I. Well, I'm… “ you cut yourself off when words fail, reaching for his hand gently, placing it over your own as a nervous smile adorns your face.

Oh…does she mean to say?…

Alastor froze as the warmth of your skin settled against his palm, rising and falling in a gentle pattern as you willed yourself to breathe normally while gauging his reaction. His shadows quivered in the darkness of the room, able to hear two faint heartbeats underneath the drum of your own, and the definitive sound brought a grin to his face.

It seems she's given us exactly what we hoped for. Twice the yield as well.

How delightful.

Alastor knelt before you, placing both hands on your stomach, eyes soft with affection as he finally voiced his thoughts.

“My darling wife is going to be a mother..” pride laced his tone as he averted his gaze to yours, grin ever present as you nodded excitedly with a bright smile, “And you're going to be father..” you whisper.

Your words drifted quietly in the air, sinking into Alastor’s consciousness and stirring his specters into a giddy frenzy.

My wife is having my children…

Mine and only mine.

A laugh rippled in his chest as the possessive thought invaded his mind, growing stronger as he heard your delighted giggles join his. “Come here, darlin’…” Alastor lifted you with one gentle tug on your wrists, catching you in his arms as your feet hovered off the ground. “Alastor!” you yelped excitedly, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt and laughing more as he pecked your lips tenderly. You hummed into the passionate kiss, arms locking around his neck as you kicked a foot up gingerly. He tasted like mint, calm, and refreshing. A welcomed contrast to the waning heat you felt as your nerves winded down.

He was pleased to know, which filled your heart with relief.

——- ——- ———

“Oh, my stars! Al! Y/n! I'm overjoyed for you both!” Rosie shot up from her seat, dress flowing as she glided around the coffee table to squeeze you in a tight hug as you set out the platter of sweets you'd finished baking moments ago. “Thank you, Rosie. I still can't believe it myself,” you blushed as she squealed, drawing back a bit to cup your face with both hands; her eyes sparkled with admiration as she looked between you and Alastor -who sat comfortably in an armchair. He hadn't stopped grinning since your return home from the countryside, rambling on and on to his mother about the news until the last minute, and he insisted on telling Rosie as soon as you stepped foot in New Orleans again. She was his long-time friend, after all, yours as well, by extension, and so you didn't mind revealing the news to her. Just as his mother felt like your own, Rosie filled the space of an older sister for you. She was energetic, fashionable, and constantly aware of everyone's lives.

She was a true gossip girl, but you enjoyed her company more than others.

“Al, you devil! You could've waited another year to knock my dearest friend up! Now, who will I take out on the town?..” She huffed dramatically but couldn't hold her frown as you giggled softly while he waved a hand dismissively. “I'm sure you'll survive, my dear.” he quips. Rosie rolls her eyes, returning his nonchalant gesture with an equally smug smirk, “I suppose you're right. Although, my nights out won't be as thrilling anymore with you gone being a new father and such, Al.”

He sat straighter. You happened to catch the slightest frown on his face at Rosie’s comment, but it vanished when he felt your eyes on him. “I'll accompany you on occasion when time allows it.” His response is politely chaste, and one might deem it disappointing.

Was he bothered by the notion of having less time with Rosie?

You knew they ventured to socialite parties together regularly, something they'd done long before you married him, but you never questioned it since Rosie assured you it was their fun hobby. Still, you felt concerned that Alastor could regret the idea of children if it meant a less spontaneous party going with his oldest friend.

You opened your mouth to say something, stepping towards where he sat, but Rosie grabbed your hands and whisked you away to sit on the plush sofa with her. “We must discuss everything Y/n. Having a child is no small feat, and I know Al won't spare any expense.” She grinned, squeezing your hands gently, and you smiled back at her before sparing your husband a curious glance. “He spoils me too much already, so I think he'll naturally do the same for the baby,” a soft laugh floated from you, and he tipped his head reassuringly while pulling out his pocket watch to check the time. “Whatever their little heart desires, I shall give,” he replies calmly, standing to his feet and gazing between you and Rosie. “It's about time I head on over to the station. I don't suppose you’ll be leaving anytime soon, Rosie?”

You checked the grandfather clock that stood against the adjacent wall, noticing it was nearly time for his broadcast to begin, “Seems we lost track of time.” you smiled apologetically at Alastor. He shook his head while chuckling, “It's not your fault, darling. I got caught up listening to this one ramble,” he gestured to Rosie before walking over to the parlor room coat stand. He pricked his preferred overcoat, slipping it on quickly as she glared at his back. “Is that any way to speak of your child’s future honorary aunt and godmother!” she faked a skeptical look to which you feigned concern, “Oh, my dear Rosie, he didn't mean it, I swear!”

Alastor turned on his heel, biting back a more comprehensive smile as he admired the two of you carrying on, “I will not apologize for telling the truth, ma chère, but Rosie does have the privilege of godmother so that for I will ask for her forgiveness.” he stood behind the sofa, leaning down a bit to kiss you once then twice before pulling away with a content hum.

Rosie watched the sweet exchange, able to separate the manic version of Alastor she killed from the doting husband he was in your presence, proud to see him so controlled and happy. He pulled away from you, adoring the glimmer in your eyes as you reached a hand up to adjust his glasses, “I love you,” you whisper, and he blanks for a moment, hearing the endearing phrase.

Love…is that what this is?…

Would it be so wrong to say it back?…

A flash of vulnerability crosses Alastor’s face, and you're tempted to take your words back, but he beats you to speak. “Je t'aime aussi..” he mutters back, stepping away to bid Rosie a proper goodbye, “Take good care of her while I'm gone.” he kisses her cheek, and she swats his arm, “Oh, you know I will. Now run along before you're late!” He heads to her, scolding her out the door in seconds, leaving you in her company.

“I thought he'd never leave,” Rosie chirps, glad to have some privacy to speak with you and eager to get down to the details you had to tell. “Tell me, how do you feel, honey? I know this all might be terrifying you…” she spoke softly, pricking a freshly baked cookie from the platter you set out, and you nodded timidly in agreement while fidgeting with your hands.

“I'm scared, yes, but not of being a mother. You know I've always wanted to be one. It was my biggest dream when I came of age, and I'm glad it's coming true with Al..” You rested a hand on your stomach, feeling it flip at the mention of him, and luckily, no urge to throw up followed.

Thank goodness for Angelique and her tonics!

She'd given you a case of vials to take home, all containing a special brew made by her hand, and she'd given you a strict regimen for consuming them.

“Drink two of these twice daily, morning and evening, but only take it after you've eaten. Have Alastor phone me when you need more..”

Whatever was given had a wonderous effect on your mood, reduced your fatigue, and calmed your nerves. You were grateful for her assistance, but not everything you felt could be cured with medicine.

You hoped Rosie would understand, could help calm what the tonics couldn't, so as she peered at you curiously and asked, “What's the matter, dearest?” you inevitably blurted out your worst and only fear.

“I'm afraid of how Alastor will be as a father..”

She blinked, taken aback by your confession, but it didn't show on her face. “May I ask why?”

You hesitated, fidgeting with your hands again as you thought of what to say, but Rosie rested a hand on yours to still them in a gentle grip. “Y/n, it's alright, be honest. He may have been my closest companion initially, but you are my truest friend in this moment. I'm here to listen, not to criticize. He won't hear a word of it, I swear.”

You glanced between your conjoined hands and her kind smile, and after debating whether or not to spill your heart out, you decided it wouldn't hurt to express your doubts.

You could trust Rosie. Right?…

“Well, I know he wants children. He recently told me so, but it's how he'll receive them. Alastor is a complex man, we both know that, but I fear that complexity will make it hard for him to…to..” you tried to phrase the last of your concerns gently, unsure if what you said made any sense to her, but Rosie merely smiled before finishing the thought for you.

“You're afraid he won't show them love?..”

You nod, heart clenching at the thought, “Yes. I know how his childhood went; I was there through it all, so I know his father wasn't the best man. I know what he put his mother through and Alastor hates the idea of becoming like him..”

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, beginning to tear up as memories of Alastor coming to you in the dead of night, bruised and battered but stoic as ever as he asked to sleep next to you in your bed. He'd never tell you what happened, where his father was, or if he'd been majorly injured. You'd have to coax information out of him, promise him that you'd never betray his safety, or tell your father what went on in his family. Then and only then would he relax, let you mend his scars before huddling under the thick covers with you, and though you were both exhausted, you'd whisper stories aloud to each other until the sun peeked through the trees.

It felt odd to wish for times like that to return; they all resorted from darker places, but it brought you two closer. You were able to understand Alastor to an extent most speculated of. With all the insight into his life, you hoped the irrational fears you felt would wither away, but after the incident at his mother's, they just worsened.

It felt as if he were hiding something from you.

At first, the notion piqued your curiosity, but now it ate away at your conscience.

What was he withholding from you, and did you need or want to know more?

Logic voted ‘yes,’ but your trusting nature leaned towards ‘no.’

“He won't ever be like him. I'm sure, but he's only recently expressed he cares for me. Truly loves me, so I suppose I'm afraid of that same affection not being openly expressed to our little one as well.”

Rosie nodded, scooting closer and giving you a tight side hug to calm your frazzled state. “My dear, you have every right to fear such a thing. However, if I may vouch for Alastor, I do believe his softer side will show itself for your child.” You peered at her, hope in your eyes, “Really? You think so?..”

She grins, “I am certain of it! He cherishes you like no other! Unlike my husband, yours is a dime and a man who'd kill for you if necessary.”

You blush, surprised by her claim, “I don't think he'd kill for me, Rosie, but I understand the sentiment.” She scoffs, hand rubbing your shoulders, and retorts, “Yes, he would, and he'd show the same devotion to your bundle of joy.”

Her statement soothed your worries, but the seriousness in her tone made your heart skip a beat.

It felt as though she did know he'd kill for you…kill for your child.

A shiver racked your body at the thought.

I hope it never comes to that…

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What do you guys think of the story so far? I'm just curious to hear your thoughts and theories.❤️

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

He may be a monster, but at least he's dedicated to it; morally grey, but honest to his silly little murderous behaviors ❤️ credits to the creator

#Spotify #alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #human alastor #alastor hartfelt #alastor headcanons #alastor fluff #hazbin hotel headcanon #alastor smut #hazbin alastor #alastor x oc #alastor x reader #credit to artist #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon #angst #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fanfic writing #fanfic #alastor x you #fluff #french #alastor human #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor x y/n

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

A Song of heart and blood - part one | Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader

Summary: After an horrible prophetical dream, you find yourself traveling through time to try and save your sister, Daenerys, from her fatal ascension to the Iron Throne. During your mission, your heart derives you from your duty and you fall in love with your ancestor

Word count: 2.3k

masterpost

A/N: The time-traveling part was heavily inspired by Outlander

-

While most of Valerian descent are born dragonriders, very few have been dreamers.

The first known dreamer had been Daenys Targaryen, known as 'the Dreamer'. She had foreseen the Doom of Valyria in a dream twelve years before it happened, causing her father to relocate the family and its dragons to Dragonstone, thus securing House Targaryen's future as the last known dragonlord family in the world and the rulers of the Seven Kingdoms.

Then, Aegon I Targaryen, Viserys I Targaryen, Helaena Targaryen, Daemon II Blackfyre...and you.

The castle in King's Landing was completely destroyed, except for the Iron Throne. Your sister, Daenerys, was walking toward it, the new queen of the Seven Kingdoms. She touched the throne, a faint smile curling on her lips. Behind her, a man with dark hair had entered the room. They began talking – arguing – about some matter you couldn't hear. A kiss was shared and, as the two kissed, the man stabbed her in her heart with his dagger.

Had you told Dany about your dream, she would've laughed and said it was just that: a dream. Deep down, you could feel that it was something more. A dragon dream, as they call it in the books. A prophecy.

You had to do something to prevent your sister's tragic end. Talking her down to go after the Iron Throne was a losing battle. Dany was strong-headed; she would never accept to give up what was rightfully hers, even if you told her about your dream.

She didn't believe in that sort of thing, anyway.

The days following your dream, you found yourself in your head a lot. You couldn't look at your sister without seeing the blood leaking from her mouth and nose after that man had assassinated her. It had become difficult to close an eye at night, knowing what would happen to her in the end.

You had to do something.

A few days later, you packed your bag and went on your own to know more about prophecies. Leaving her with the Dothrakis worried you, but Ser Jorah had sworn protection to her. He'll keep her safe while you'll be gone.

*

After seven moons doing some heavy research away in the Free Cities, you found a woman of old age who knew about Dreamers and prophecies. She told you the only way to keep a foretelling event from happening was to fix the mistakes that led to it – albeit it being close to impossible. Prophecies always find a way to come to pass.

''Time traveling?'' you repeated with a doubtful furrow of your eyebrows.

The woman nodded. ''There is this old tale about a High Priestess who practiced different sorts of sorcery using the power of R'hllor. According to the tale, she has revived a man who had been stabbed enough times to empty himself of his blood, and knew details only someone who had lived in the past could know of. She is rumored to have lived hundreds of years, all thanks to her magic.''

''How may I find her?''

''Unfortunately, the High Priestess has been burned to the stake many decades ago, but her grimoire has not been found. She lived in a crept in Volantis, where I assume her grimoire still is. You might find what you need in it.''

''Would it save my sister? Going back in time.''

''Possibly.'' The woman

''You got to find the exact moment, the trigger time-stamp that started the downfall of the Targaryen dynasty.''

Was she talking about your father's descent into insanity? Had he not been held prisoner for half a year by a rebellious lord, perhaps he would not have let his paranoia cloud his judgment or let his cruelty grow. Perhaps Ser Jamie Lannister, a member of his own Kingsguard, would not have killed him.

Unless the prophecy went back longer ago? When did House Targaryen begin losing its power?

According to Maester Yandel, the biggest losses of House Targaryen happened during the Dance of Dragons, a major civil war in the history of the Seven Kingdoms. It destroyed many cadet and lesser branches of the Targaryen family - thinning the Targaryen bloodline –, and also eliminated almost all of the surviving dragons at the time – seventeen dragons died during the Dance.

Had the Dance not happened, had Aegon II not been born, it would've made a massive difference in the future of House

''Before you go searching for the grimoire, I shall warn you my lady: any minor change can have a ripple effect that could harm innocent bystanders.''

*

The crypt had taken you weeks to locate.

Each page of the grimoire was made of human skin and written with blood. It was quite gnarly to touch - or smell. The spelling was difficult to decipher. No offense to the High Priestess, but her handwriting was not the greatest. Some of the pages were in High Valyrian – which must've been the High Priestess's first language. Fortunately, you had been taught the language growing up.

Inside, you came across resurrecting spells and fertilization rituals, a handful of curses and poisonous brews, and a time-traveling ritual. They were all using blood magic, which was one of the most dangerous magic, but after seeing your sister ascending her rightful title as queen, to then be killed by her lover – which was somehow not Khal Drogo –, you were willing to risk the danger and consequences of blood magic.

The ritual sounded complex, but was relatively simple. You'll need a gemstone, fire and blood – and a solstice in a specific location. Fortunately for you, the summer solstice was only a moon away. You also needed an object that belonged to the time you wanted to go back to. The dragonglass dagger in your bag will be perfect. It had been given to the princess Rhaenyra by Viserys himself while he was king.

On the week of the Solstice, you began your journey to the ancient stone circle located on a mountain in Volantis. According to the grimoire, one of the stones was large and cleft, through which a time traveler may pass.

Come the Solstice, you waited until the moon was at its highest and started a small fire in the middle of the stone circle while reading a few High Valerian lines. You then added a few drops of your blood to the fire and threw the dragonglass dagger – the fire crackled and the flame grew in height, almost touching your forehead.

You immediately stepped back, startled. This was your first time dabbling in magic. You didn't know fire could be so powerful.

Lastly, you walked up to the large cleft stone, pressed your palm against the cleft.

*

Approximately 170 years before your birth

Since your arrival in King’s Landing, you have tried to be discreet and keep to yourself as much as possible.

As the woman of old age warned you, time-traveling was delicate. Each change – even the smallest – will have a direct effect on the future. A sliver of change done wrong, and the whole future could take a turn for the worse, the Targaryen lineage could be extinct sooner. You and your sister could…not exist.

All you needed to do was prevent Aegon II from being born. That alone should have a huge impact on the Targaryen dynasty – on the future.

You had no idea how you would execute your plan. From what you knew, the queen was expecting and the babe would be born in a couple of weeks from now. That didn't leave you a lot of time. The main issue was, Queen Alicent lived in the Red Keep and there was no way you could sneak in unnoticed. There were guards all around the castle. One was probably posted at the door of her chamber for extra safety.

Every time you took a stroll in the city, you were pestered by sellers. Seafood when in Fishmonger's Square, brewers in Dragon Square, baked goods on the Street of Flour. Everything looked delicious, but the coins in your pocket couldn't be spent on treats.

A brewer was being insistent tonight, trying to get you to try his liquor. You shook your head, politely declining. The bearded man was not taking no for an answer, claiming you must have coins on you because of the jewel around your neck.

The small quarrel grew in volume, catching some citizens' attention, notably a man in a hooded cloak. You wanted to run, but when you took a quick look around to evaluate your options, you caught the man with the hooded cloak's eyes. His eyes were purple and, under his large hood, you saw a glimpse of his silver hair. He was a Targaryen.

When you teleported through the stones, you vowed to yourself to minimize your social interactions and to not directly interact with any of your ancestors to not disrupt the future in times where it wasn't necessary.

You recognized him as Daemon, also known as the Rogue Prince. His dark gray hooded cloak was doing a mediocre job at shielding his identity – at least from the front. Or, perhaps you were just too good at recognizing those who shared your blood.

‘’The woman seems not to be interested.’’

Daemon’s voice cut the brewer's word spitting, making the bearded man raise his head in his direction. Although there was no threat in the prince's words, his tone itself held an authority. It felt commanding.

Had he been a regular man of the city, you would've thanked him. Instead, you ran off.

You didn’t want to be impolite, or come off as not thankful – you were thankful for him stepping in. Without him, the brewer would probably still be pressuring you to buy his liquor. You needed to remain unnoticed during your travels. Thanking Daemon would’ve broken your rule.

You took a left on the Street of Silk and felt eyes on your back. Had the bearded man followed you? No. It was unlikely. After Daemon’s interruption, he had to have given up. Someone was following you, though.

You snaked through the bodies and ran as fast as your legs allowed you.

A few buildings down, the street was splitting. You took another left and hid inside the closest building, which turned out to be a pleasure house – a brothel – , of all places. Just like the streets, it was packed.

You had never been to one of these places before. There wasn’t any around where you grew up. It was…was…uncomfortable. There were naked people – men and women – all around; some were dancing sexually, some were moaning and performing sexual acts of all genres.

‘’Silver hair are difficult to hide, are they?’’

You whirled around and came face to face with the Rogue Prince himself. His hood was still on, but his eyes bore right into yours. Just like yours, they were a shade of purple. His were a lighter color, but no less piercing.

He reached out to twirl a piece of your hair between his fingers, a frown settling between his eyebrows. Your alluring beauty, long and braided silver hair and the Valyrian steel necklace around your neck – a piece of jewelry that once belonged to your mother – were a straight-teller of your Targaryen roots.

‘’Where did you get this?’’ His eyes fixated the jewelry, as if he had seen it before.

‘’My mother.’’

''Valyrian steel, right?’’ You nodded. ‘’I brought the same one to my niece two years ago. I was told there was only one.’’

‘’Perhaps the person you bought it from was mistaken – or they lied to you.’’

Daemon looked at you with wary eyes. ‘’Who are you?’’

The dreaded question. You gulped, nervousness bubbling in your stomach as you tried to think of a quick fake-name. Using Targaryen in this era would stir too many questions.

‘’Y/N. Y/N…Stormborn, my Prince.’’

The last words felt strange on your tongue. It was the proper way to address him, though.

‘’Stormborn?’’ Daemon’s frown deepened, the name unfamiliar. In fact, it was the first time he heard it. ‘’I’ve never heard. Although, you must be of Valyrian blood. Only those with Valyrian blood have silver hair.’’

You shrugged, playing your part. ‘’I would not know. My father lost his life in battle and my mother died during childbirth. I was raised by my brother in Essos.’’

That part wasn’t all false. You only omitted small details…like your father being the Mad King and escaping to Essos after your birth so you, Daenerys and Viserys – your brother –’s lives would be spared.

The man before you hummed. He didn’t know if you were bullshitting him or telling the truth, but he’ll take your words for now.

‘’Have you ever been in Essos, my Prince?‘’ you asked.

The prince didn't get to answer you. Behind you, one of the curtains lining the hallway opened and a drunk man got thrown out of the private room, his erected cock out in the open. A naked woman – assumingly a working whore from the brothel – followed and threw his pants and tunic at him.

‘’No money, no fucking,’’ she spat at him, then walked off.

He bent down to pick up his clothes and tipped forward, visibly too drunk to have any sense of balance, and limply falling against you. His heavy, dead weight caused you to fall forward, your hand reaching for something to grab onto but only finding air.

In good reflex, Daemon firmly gripped your arm, catching you before your face would meet the filthy floor and pulled you against him in a knightly gesture. You ended up with your face in the prince’s chest, the mix of sandalwood, pine and a tinge of red wine seeping through your nose and invading your senses. Gods, he smelled nice.

Had he not been your great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather, perhaps you would have taken advantage of the close proximity and stayed there a little longer.

A light flush creeped to your cheeks and you pulled away. ‘’My apologies.‘’

-

Taglist: @taylorDaughter  @gillybear17 @liltimmyst​ @eos-princess​

House of the Dragon/Game of Thrones taglist: @anastasiaxsworld @lollypopcrazylover @fin-never @dkathl @ayamenimthiriel @nerdy4itall @rraindrops @glors3 @beelanie @hc-geralt-23 @sweetybuzz25  @uniquenightsheep @kaywsworld​ @i-yam-awesome​ @caspianobsessed @kelssssxd​ @dilfsarebetterthanyou

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen x y/n #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine

[tearskillstardust]

❝ OF THOUGHT AND BIRTH DIVINE. ❞

001. 𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌—智慧之神。

Since antiquity, a word goes around in the lands surrounding the capital.

It's nothing new really, an old wives' tale—it has been passed from generation to generation by curious mothers who were once children themselves, having listened to the same story at least thrice from their own mothers before it was ultimately passed down to the next generation.

Your own mother had been shelling peas when she casually brought it up and you as casually dropped the vellum to listen in closer.

'They say the knowledge of prose and poetry is passed down by the God of wisdom, himself, and it is only from his generous blessing that one is able to find skill in these areas that leave most counting stars. '

You laughed, finding it as stupid as a donkey winning in a race of horses.

'Oh?' you questioned, and she passed a side-eye at your smug expression as you continued, 'And how much, pray tell, did you reminisce of', you sarcastically made exclamation marks in the air here, 'the God of wisdom, to have a child so blessed in the knowledge of poetry such as I?'

You did not have the right to complain when her hand playfully came to smack you at the side of your back, your father laughing as he came to settle next to you on the cot, having managed to find some free time from work only then.

'She's right, though, isn't she? Your child is blessed with the knowledge of poetry, why not appreciate it sometimes?'

Your mother passed a fond look before playfully pulling on your ear as you winced just as naughtily to provoke your father into taking your side—

'Aaah! Papa!'

'Don't listen to her! Arrogance keeps surfacing in this child's countenance!'

Your father laughs, affectionately freeing you from your mother as he handed you your vellum and secretively pointed towards his study.

He turns to your mother, 'You can't be like that with her anymore, love. She's grown and will marry away in some time, be kinder.'

Right, you think, rolling your eyes, finding the fun atmosphere deflating as you returned towards the study. You put away father's books from before—logs and registers detailing the exchanges of his store's valuables—absentmindedly staring at the feather in your hand as you played with its ink, making random pictures of flowers on the edge of you sheet.

If the restrictions put on all politically, especially the young who needed the most freedom of all, were not enough already, then there everyone was—putting more pressure socially.

Marriage was never a matter of casualty, if it occurred without inviting family from even the ends of the earth, then it was considered an unsuccessful one—and while you yourself were not big on having kids and romancing boys, the prospect of having a compatible, loving partner was not one that never crossed your mind.

Alas, you stared at the blank sheet with a more than bored look upon your features.

Inspiration was always hard to find.

Putting down your pen you rose with a sigh, gaze shaded with disappointment over inability to complete the poetry. What would rhyme with saccharine, anyway?

Mine?

No, you thought, turning towards the exit of the house without consulting anyone, only vaguely announcing to your father who sat on the cot, quietly enjoying his tea, as his gentle eyes traced your movements.

'I'll be back,' you said, and he nodded with a soft smile. Innocent, he was. Your father, that is. A man of simple but honest means, always smiling and finding joy in the basic things—your mother wasn't selfish herself, but she was certainly much cleverer than her husband.

You chuckled absent-mindedly, they were a cute couple. While most certainly were they a couple put together randomly by their families, they had accidentally ended up being the most compatible for each other than either would today admit. But when the moon danced with the clouds, it were their laughs of genuine amusement, arising from reminiscing old moments spent together, that softly sparked joy within your heart.

It was a tiny wish then, in the very corner of your heart, that if you end up marrying a noble man, then he too, be as lucky as your father had been for your mother.

Lost in thoughts, when the expanse to the lake had been covered, that you did not know but you headed straight towards the still water body. Sitting next to its very edge with a sigh, wallowing in self-pity as you sought to better your mood, you began thus, looking at your reflection in the still water—

'Often do lilies turn to me, hiding faces showered in glee. Shaded in shyness the orchids ask, where were you gone, Malika? and in my innocence I answer, to the devil's lair.'

Silence.

You broke out laughing, finding the poem less descriptive of your own self than it was of the orchid's undying curiosity as its vines spread their feet as far as they possibly could.

And while the poetry itself was a little less than mediocre in your eyes, someone else seemed to have been much too impressed for either of your best interests.

It was when you finally began preparing to rise, having had more than enough ideas to continue your work when he interrupted, both intrigued and upset as he spoke—

'Will you speak no more?'

You turned around quickly, and much to your embarrassment, did not manage to find the source of the voice until he scoffed again and waved his book boredly, 'Here, lady.'

You cocked a brow at him, 'I'm not a lady but you're definitely an auntie. Tell me, what is it?'

He curiously asked, voice managing to hide his internal desperation, 'Will you compose poetry no more?'

You looked him up and down and it was then that you managed to catch a proper glimpse of him as the clouds cleared, as though the Gods themselves were keen on enhancing his divinity, the crown of his hair shaded with pale yellow light.

He was young in appearance, perhaps even a girl's dream husband, but the stillness of his disposition and eyes spoke of a maturity which was rarely found.

You would've described him in fluent poetry, should you have had the patience or the time (or even interest), but just as quickly did the sun hide and the shadow fell upon him once again.

You breathed, and so did he.

You turned around with the attitude of a real Malika, 'No.'

'Why not?', came his answer, just as quick.

You rolled your eyes, turning back with an annoyed expression, 'Don't you know it's rude to listen on to people secretly?'

He sighed, 'Your voice is too melodious not to be listened to, Malika.'

You passed a dull expression, 'Lady to Malika, huh?', then rolled your eyes boredly, 'Chameleon.'

An amused smile stretched across his features, and if it didn't already seem as though the Gods had carved him out of the finest marble, then now it seemed as though sunlight poured from urns onto his ethereal features.

You blushed red at your internal monologue of his beauty.

Why did it matter, anyway?

People were never allowed to choose partners of their own, regardless they be lovers or not. Ideas of romance were better of printed on paper and sold off for gold—not for building your future on. Or so your mother said.

'Lost in thought?', he inquired, sitting up straight as he shut his book, yawning quietly before his gaze turned to meet yours once again.

'No, I know what I have to do.' you shook your head and turned away again, only to lulled in by the trap of his own voice once again.

'Please,' he said, desperate now, and you could not help but feel the smallest pang of shyness at his insistence. 'If not poetry, then talk about something. Anything.'

'Like?', you questioned once again, cursing your curiosity and intrigue with the young man once again. But who were you to deny yourself the simplicity of indulging in conversation with one so charming as him?

He smiled, but only innocence lay behind its drape. 'Like, what's your name?'

The cry of the cuckoo came to you on the wind.

You answered with a glittering smile, 'Y/n. And yours?'

He smiled back, just as illustrious in his wake. 'Al Haitham.'

If you were surprised at the scholarly name, you did not show it.

Silence ensued, in the midst of which none desired to speak. It was the first time you were with him in which he did not desire you to speak, but merely to smile as he watched on, as though unable to move on from the tantalizing spell of your gently tugged lips.

Squirrels curiously peeked from behind trees laden with fruits, as the curious sparrows lined up together in serenity, watching on. Even the mischievous macaque stopped for a moment's notice, taking a break from dropping half-eaten fruits into the water, for the pleasure of watching its surface ripple.

He spoke at long last—voice laced with unimaginable gentleness.

'Pray tell, what troubles you so? Did the poetess/poet not find enough inspiration for her/his work?'

You smiled gently, your heart just as calm as you were, as though under a spell. 'Indeed.'

He chuckled, 'Blessed with a moon-like face and still troubling yourself with inspiration?' he rose suddenly, humming thoughtfully as he came closer to you with a teasing smile.

'Just a suggestion', he said, smile never leaving his features, 'Why not write about how the sun fell for the moon?'

'Oh?', you asked, suppressing a smile at his implication, considering the way the sun seemed to sit right upon his head, as though a crown.

He nodded again, 'The way it so desperately tried to reach her,' his gaze flickered ever so gently towards your hands, 'only to be held back by the confines of the sky.'

'Confines of the sky or confines of its own rule?'

However romantic may the sentence itself might have been, the aura of gentleness contained in him never managed to leave, as though he knew nothing but gentleness for you.

His gaze softly brushed over yours and he pointed towards the small twig stuck in your hair, removing it when you nodded softly.

'Alas, the moon is much too a beauty to be forced into submission,' he playfully answered, 'The sun must find a way to reach her in the end.'

You winked at him, just as playful of nature, if not more. 'Well, he might have to do it quick then. For should the stars reach her before the sun does,' you softly poked his nose at that, 'then the sun will be left watching.'

His gaze glittered with adoration and love, as though he had never seen more beautiful a being. You flattered yourself and turned on your heel, walking away with a smile before his voice came to you once again—

'Will you meet me here tomorrow?'

You turned playfully, the wind playing with your hair, reflecting your saccharine mood.

'What if I don't?', you shouted back, and his laugh came on the wind,

'I'll wait for you regardless!'

And while the question of whether or not you would meet him by the lake the next day was one you would decide on spontaneously, it was magical almost when your pen seemed to simply glide in your hands. Words stringed like necklaces of pearl in quick succession—

You suddenly remembered your mother's tale and the young man, finding it funny how seemingly, a talent for writing was certainly not one that was bestowed upon personally by the 'God of wisdom', whomsoever might the deity behind the name be.

Unless, well, Al Haitham was the deity.

You chuckle to yourself at the prospect, impossible, you think to yourself, feather dipping in ink as you continued the verse.

And understanding with the snap of his finger, the thoughts swirling in your mind, Al Haitham smiles to himself contentedly.

Most often, love is found in the most unexpected of places.

Better it was that way—he laughs to himself as he thinks that.

Confessions of truth and identity would be a tough challenge, but what was love, if not a challenge itself?

Nonetheless, for now, your smile was more than enough for him.

taglist : @astrothingsiwillneed, @dollhwa, @franxx-law, @lovingami, @mxyarylla, @ichorstainedskin, @nezukoo-channn, @arisaturn, @moodybluesrequiem80, @sleepy-waffle, @angel-of-requiem, @maleniaswife, @imgonnacrackarib, @flilou02, @beloved-brynn, @confusedo-17, @3443652, @wolfiafuntime, @meimeimeirin, @dottoresil, @sleepy-waffle, @floraldresvi, @ayra2452008, @peachiimcha, @dumb-gemini, @sh1-j1m4, @sangoqueenkoko, @kokosheep, @apwing @cheezzyshhh @willbedecided, @darktypedreams, @urlocalheizousimp @neuviloved @stormyenglish-23 @ishiyii @reixtsu @scaranthropy @caffeineinjelly @mellowberrie

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #al haitham #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham #al haitham x y/n #al haitham x reader #al haitham x you #genshin alhaitham #al haitham fluff #🔱of thought and birth divine

[faith-forgxtten-land]

If I may oh-so-humbly request smth else:

Bayverse Leo x back scratches/shoulder rubs

How would Fearless react to a partner that is always ready and willing to help him release the tensions that leading his brothers and being a vigilante cause? Maybe his reaction to the first time his gf comes up behind him when he's sitting on the couch, frustrated at something and starts to knead the tightness from his shoulders?

Thanks again💙

Balm | Leonardo

i'm not kidding when i had a plan to write something along these lines yesterday morning and started writing ideas in my notes app... also, hello, leo's eyes in this gif????

okay this one kind of got away from me i won't lie. even i'm not sure how it ended up how it ended up. so, i'm adding in little headcanons at the start to make up for my detour because i did not expect to get angsty and introspective and barely include what you specifically asked for...

warnings: kind of longer than i thought, i fear it drags. angsty, sad leo, nothing really? fluffy ish too. bad writing that's not proofread. everyone is 18+!! bayverse

summary: leo is tense and brooding but your delicate touch and kind words are what he needs

word count: 1, 375 (incl. headcanons)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

he's not really expecting it at all

gets extra tense the first time and worries a little that his skin is too rough and his muscles are too hard for your human hands

meditation is the be-and-end-all of "relaxation" for him (and he has a tendency to see it as training and a way of pushing himself even if he enjoys it and it's good for him)

so having someone take care of him in such a tender way without any motivation beyond comfort kind of breaks his brain

his shoulders and neck are wrecked

your hands are so tiny on his body that means you have to massage a lot to reach every spot, right? right? he is obsessed now

feels a bit hesitant to ask for a while at first, but you spoil him and he's easy to read

becomes a ritual for the both of you after he's been out on patrol

but you like doing it any time for comfort and intimacy

it's become habit for you to massage or brush your fingers against his shoulders whenever you pass him by

definitely brings you closer together

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Leo couldn’t remember the last time he slept. His head was pounding, an unrelenting percussion beating across his temples, and he could feel a wave of nausea crashing against his chest, a tell-tale sign that he’d been pushing himself too far. It was a sign that he tended to ignore (foolishly so, a mini voice that sounded suspiciously like Splinter chided). His hands trembled imperceptibly, and he gripped his knees to avoid acknowledging it a little longer.

He must’ve been really out of it because he jumped when he felt a pair of warm hands settle upon his shoulders. A burning shame fanned smoke that clogged his throat, a humiliation stitched into his veins that your touch couldn’t cleanse. “Leo?”

He couldn’t reply, letting himself recline and press gently against your palms instead. “Leo,” you murmured again, and he glanced at you tiredly, normally bright blue eyes hollow with exhaustion. You looked pensive and worried, brows drawn and eyes soft, wearing an old shirt he never wore anyway, and he wanted nothing more than to sooth the anxious lines of your face with the fingers that still grasped his knees. A fresh wave of guilt clawed its way into his gut and nestled there. He was worrying you, he knew, and now you weren’t sleeping either. He had warned you before you’d gotten together of what things would be like. Maybe you didn’t believe him at the time, and he wondered if this was the moment you realised and walked out (or he drove you away).

You’d come into his life when things had been eerily calm, and he’d stupidly felt confident that he could juggle everything and still have you, still indulge in something he had refused to let himself consider a realistic possibility. He knew Raph longed for acceptance and comfort and love, and that, despite his insecurities and anger and hurt, he would never stop dreaming of it. Donnie would envisage it quietly, usually agreeing with Leo’s dismissal of acceptance but privately yearning for it more than he’d ever let his family know (but Leo knew). Mikey wanted it too and wasn’t shy about it; he was so happy and sociable and sunny that it made Leo nauseous to repeatedly shut down dreams of the life he deserved. The thing that made Leo truly sick, sick with the world and with himself, was that Mikey truly believed, even after all these years, that he’d succeed in attaining it.

Leo thought he’d succeeded, thought he’d managed to find the thing that tore his brothers up inside without even looking for it (and that only made him hate himself more, something he would never – could never – bring himself to admit to you). You had only been dating a month, but God, he thought he’d found everything he had always refused himself. Love and acceptance outside of his family weren’t things Leo allowed himself to consider before. As a teenager, he’d meditated over and over to clear those useless longings from his mind. Then you appeared in his life out of nowhere like an apparition, offering solace and tenderness, and he didn’t want to refuse himself those impossibilities anymore.

Perhaps he’d been too hasty, it wasn’t like him to throw caution to the wind, to dive in headfirst. He hadn’t considered the implications enough, had been foolish to think he could be a leader, a hero, a brother, and a lover to you, and now here he was trembling and feeling sorry for himself with your sad eyes watching him and cutting straight to his core.

“Mikey got hurt,” he rasped. He’d let Mikey get hurt, he added silently, and somehow you must’ve heard him.

“Mikey is fine, back in one piece thanks to you,” you shot him a half-smile that made his heart stutter even at a time like this. “He was practically bouncing off the walls when his stitches were finished.” 

Leo didn’t reply.

You placed your hand against his cheek, and he clenched his jaw to stop himself nuzzling into its softness. “It’s not your fault.”

“They’re my responsibility and I failed them,” he said simply. They’re my brothers and I didn’t protect them. “Things are getting worse with the Foot Clan and I–” I don’t know what to do.

Your sad eyes were somehow even sadder, and it made his own sting. He blinked quickly. “You’re not infallible and invincible, Blue; your brothers know that, your father knows that. You do your best.” What happened when his best wasn’t good enough? You clasped his jaw tighter, somehow reading his mind again. “You’re more than good enough, you can’t control everything, and you can’t keep carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

The terrapin let you remove his gear, the heavy straps that had been digging into the hardened skin of his shoulders. You pressed soft kisses into the scales, and he closed his eyes at the reverence in your delicate touches as your nails trailed along his shell. “Everything will be okay,” you whispered, the heat of your breath soothing his still-trembling hands and warming his soul. “Your brothers are safe,” another kiss as gentle as moonlight, “I’m safe,” one more to the junction between his shoulder and neck that made his eyelids flutter, “and you’re the most incredible man I’ve ever known.”

Leo hated the shakiness of his breathing, torn between the urge to tense further and wanting to melt into your touch, as your fingers kneaded the strain poisoning his muscles. You pretended not to notice, movements heartbreakingly tender. Had anyone ever been this gentle with him?

“You do more than anyone could ever ask you to. Well,” you amended softly, a hint of fond exasperation colouring your tone, “anyone but yourself.” Your hands continued to work in tandem with your words, one a balm to the aches of his body and the other a balm to the aches your hands couldn’t wash away. “You do so much for this city, for people who won’t ever know it.”

The churrs that rumbled his chest were deep and Leo couldn’t do anything to prevent the unwinding of his limbs and the slowing of his anxious thoughts under the comforting weight of your affection and acceptance. He brought his hand up to clasp one of your own. You were so small it made his heart clench with fear and desire, and for a moment he felt that familiar feeling of inadequacy at his own monstrosity before you chased it away with a loving kiss to each fingertip. He swallowed thickly as you managed to tangle your fingers with his, your hands slotting together with ease. You smiled at him and kissed the top of his head, squeezing his hand, and he pushed himself deeper into your embrace. Looking at your joined hands again, Leo pressed his lips reverently against each knuckle, feeling like if Icarus had somehow managed to cradle the sun. He repeated the kisses once, then twice. Thank you.

You smile wider and he lets you lead him to his bed and your accepting arms.

#tmnt #bayverse tmnt #tmnt bayverse #tmnt x reader #tmnt imagine #leonardo x reader #tmnt leonardo #leonardo tmnt #tmnt leonardo x reader #tmnt leo x reader #tmnt leo #leo tmnt #i am so in love with leo wow

[admirxation]

The Perpetual Chase | Chapter One | Leon Kennedy x reader series

links to other parts: part two | part three

𓆩♡𓆪┆pairing: las plagas!yandere leon s. kennedy x fem!reader (afab) & Chris Redfield x fem!reader (afab)

𓆩♡𓆪┆summary: the reader is finally free from the physical prison Leon held her in, but she remains in a mental trap that makes her constantly think about the incident. with an effort to move on, she is living with Chris, Jill, and her son, trying to continue life without leon.

𓆩♡𓆪┆word count: 2.8k

𓆩♡𓆪┆disclaimer: this is a work of fiction! i do not condone everything i write. this is for 18+ readers, so MDNI. you’re responsible for the content you consume so if any of the follow warnings trigger you, click off now.

𓆩♡𓆪┆warnings: NSFW 18+. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. female anatomy and she/her pronouns used for the reader. this series will mention things that happened in ‘broken locks’, please read before you read this to understand and know what you’re getting into. specific chapter warnings: healing trauma, reader suffers with remnants of Stockholm syndrome, & mention of of death.

𓆩♡𓆪┆a/n: heyyy! sorry this took forever, life has been hectic, but i hope you enjoy, please like and reblog if you did. just wanted to mention one thing though, i did name the son in the story, i didn’t want to keep putting “insert sons name”. i know its an x reader but there is only so much customising i can do without it being exhausting, so please do not hate on that. anyways thank you for all ur support, love y’all.

Chapter one: a broken beginning

The warm lamp on the bedside table filled the cosy room with an orange tinge around the four walls; the sleepy five-year-old was nestled in his mother's arms, clutching his favourite stuffed bear as he eagerly awaited his nightly fairytale from you — his beloved mother.

“Once upon a time, in a faraway land,” you began with a soft and melodic voice, “there was a beautiful queen named Seraphina.” You brushed Mason’s dark blond hair away from his forehead, his eyes sparkling warmly as you delved further into the story.

“Queen Seraphina had the most radiant smile that lit up the kingdom, and her kindness was known to all. She had a little prince called… Mason,” you saw him smile; you always liked to change the name to involve him and to hear that little giggle, “and Mason was her pride and joy.”

You continued with the tale; your words weaved a story of love, bravery, threat and danger, getting to the part that always scared Mason — the mentioning of the wicked sorcerer who became obsessed with the queen's beauty and vowed to take her away from everything she knew for his own selfish desires.

“Queen Seraphina was smart and strong,” your voice tinged with a hint of caution, “she had a magic charm, a special kind of protection that kept her safe from harm.”

Mason listened intently, his innocent eyes fixed on your face, soaking in every word that was uttered.

“However,” you continued, lowering your voice slightly, “the sorcerer’s obsession grew stronger by the day. He plotted and schemed, waiting for the perfect moment to take Queen Seraphine away from everything she loved.”

This was Mason’s favourite part, where the narrative took an unexpected turn as Queen Seraphina's castle was suddenly surrounded by darkness and then…

There was a knock on the door. Jill came in.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your storytelling, but it's time for bed; Mason has a big day tomorrow,” Jill said as she waited for Mason to walk with her.

“You heard Jill, off you go.”

“But Mom, I want to hear what happens to Queen Seraphina,” he whined.

“You’ve listened to the story millions of times,” he pouted, making your heart melt “Tomorrow I’ll tell the story earlier, and I promise we will finish it… Now go with your Aunty Jill,” he hugged you as he went off, leaving you to put away the book.

You walked outside your room, watching Mason get all pouty as Jill tried to get him into bed, noticing Chris walk by and jokingly tell him to behave — Mason always listened to Chris; he almost looked up to him and tried his best to copy his mannerisms. You four were all living together in an unknown area, even though you couldn’t tell the actual location for safety reasons due to your “turbulent mental health” and your contact with Las Plagas, as the doctors put it, but you liked living with Chris, Jill and your son, as well as the ones who created a protective sphere and kept on guard. You were healing over your trauma after what happened five years ago, but there were still doctors who would check up on you and, most importantly, Mason; they were 99% certain you weren’t a carrier, but they continued to be sceptical of the child you bore from an infected man, Las Plagas had to be coursing through his veins — but every test showed he never carried the disease, but this didn’t satisfy or stop the frequent checks.

You understood the measures that had to be taken, but every time you had a check-up, that incident played in your head; it didn’t help that you had other factors like Mason’s favourite fairytale being about kidnapping; it all just made you remember Leon and what he had done to you — how he violated and manipulated you. The first year was hard; you woke up every night and only slept periodically, your eyebrows darkening. Jill and Chris made things easier; they were patient and understanding, reassuring you that Leon was dead and wasn’t coming back — but that didn’t silence your mind completely. You never admitted it to them, not those who checked up on you, but you still had nightmares, picturing Leon’s face with those dark veins and that perverted, dark smile he would always have when you were vulnerable. But you also thought about how you loved him towards the end; you remember putting your finger on the trigger and telling him, “I love you”. You felt guilty for having those bittersweet memories; the psychiatrists kept telling you it wasn’t healthy and that love doesn’t begin like that, and you knew that, but another part of your brain thought about the moment he took care of you. You remembered when he hugged and cared for you and helped you in the bath; all those memories had a dark tone, but you missed him.

The nights where those mixed feelings kept you awake, you wished you could get over it all and just think it was in the past, but it was hard, and despite Jill insisting on you needing to “heal”, you thought that was never going to happen; you thought that you were forever broken no matter the new life you were living. Five years on, it was a little easier to handle, with an emphasis on “little”, but there were still improvements. You had your friend Jill with you, and you were starting to get to know Chris, finally getting over the fact he wanted to kill you when he first met you, but that was something to joke about now — an extremely dark joke, but a joke nonetheless. Even though you loved Jill, the most understanding person was Chris; your developing friendship helped you along the journey, whereas Jill’s constant talking about a “healing journey” was coming from a good place but put pressure on you on how you should feel and where you should be in that “healing journey”. You felt like she didn’t truly understand the trauma you were going through; of course, no one really did, but Chris managed to make you feel comfortable and like he was actually feeling your emotions.

You had talked to Chris about how Jill’s words affected you and made you continually think about your broken mental health. He offered a shoulder to cry on, and you felt a connection with him. These feelings were confusing; you longed for Chris to stay longer when you had your late-night chats when he went off guarding duty, but it felt wrong to have these feelings when you were still thinking of Leon and what could have been if he remained that sweet neighbour you would make meals for. You didn’t know if this was the beginning of what they call “moving on”, but all you knew was that you liked it when Chris sneaked past Jill’s room when she watched over Mason sleeping and how you giggled together and sometimes had a little nap in each other's arms.

Tonight was another night you would have those late nights with Chris; you two had gotten into that routine of waiting for Jill to put Mason and then drift off before Chris would get off guard duty — you two weren’t doing anything physically intimate, but you knew Jill wouldn’t be comfortable with you having a flirtatious moment with another man, especially Chris. You felt guilty — at times — knowing you were keeping something from your best friend, but you also knew that this secret wouldn’t last forever; this secret would last for a while but would come out of hiding if anything actually sparked between you two, but you know when you would admit it you would get a lecture and experience her overprotectiveness. You did understand why she was acting like this, but you also wanted some freedom now to take it at your own pace and not be constantly monitored.

You waited in your bedroom; your door opened a crack to let Chris know you wanted him to come in; the anticipation bubbled inside you as you waited for him; you loved feeling that excitement; you hadn’t felt that innocent thrill since when you used to give meals to Leon, you remembered the excuse of your awful portion sizes and the smile he would always give when tasting your cooking… You missed that. You often thought about what could have been if Leon had never gotten infected. Would you two have gotten together naturally if he was still the boy next door? Would it have been a beautiful romance? Well, it doesn’t matter how much you thought because it would never be a true reality.

As you were getting lost in your thoughts, you subtly jumped out of your mind to be taken back into reality when you saw the door open, then met with Chris’ smile when he saw your face.

“I’m not disturbing you, am I?” he closed the door behind him.

“No, no… I wouldn’t have had the door like that if I didn’t want you here,” you lifted yourself from the foot of your bed, putting your arms around him and nuzzling your face into his chest as he brought you in his arms, “I’ve missed you.”

“Wow, I didn’t know I had the effect on you,” he laughed. You just rolled your eyes.

Inside the dimly lit bedroom, you two sat on the floor on the comfortable fluffy carpet that was by your bed — you would often start your conversations here. You felt like you were wrapped in the warm comfort of Chris’ presence; the soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a gentle hue that invited closeness.

“I don’t think Jill will be waking up any time soon… I heard slight snoring coming from Mason’s room,” you both laughed.

“Means she’s out like a light,” he moved close to you, and you caught the sense of his natural scent that drew you closer and brought that excitement back; it felt like a true romance was blooming, but those previous thoughts kept making you think otherwise.

“How do you think she would react to… all of this?” you asked to break some silence.

“To be honest, I don’t know, but… I don’t want to talk about that now,” you raised an eyebrow out of interest, “Y/N, I want to talk to you about something, and it’s fine if you don’t want to engage, but please hear me out.”

“Wow, just a few minutes, and we’re already getting serious.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about it all day, but shut up for a bit and let me speak,” you both laughed, “For the past five years, we’ve gotten closer. I got to know you, and I’m glad you got over our first awful first impressions, but… I didn’t expect to have what we have now. We don’t do what usual friends do, fair enough, we’ve never done anything, but I feel something. I suppose I’m trying to say I feel something for you, I care about you, and I want to see if you feel the same, and maybe we could build on that.”

You looked down at your hands before saying anything, watching his anticipation: “Chris… I do like you, but… I don’t want to lead you on. I feel like we have something, but I think everyone knows I’m not totally over what you know who did with me; I mean, I don’t think I can do things like sex for a long time.”

“We don’t have to have sex for us to be something real,” he softly grabbed your hand, “I understand if you don’t want anything with me, but if you did, I wouldn’t rush you into things like that, I would wait… Sex doesn't always make something real; we could have our own terms.”

Thinking about your memories of Leon, watching Chris, and the warm energy you felt from him. When you looked at the picture of Leon in your mind, you had bittersweet memories, romantic at times but truly traumatic and what he did ruined your life; you were ready to admit that. But when you looked at Chris, you saw a new beginning, a broken beginning, but something that could blossom into something beautiful if you let it and let go of Leon's hold on you even in the grave.

“Kiss me,” he widened his eyes with shock, watching you to make sure, “Kiss me, and I’ll truly know if I’m ready to say yes to this.”

He leaned in slowly, his soft lips brushing against yours until the skin of your lips fully collided into a passionate kiss; you had to adjust to this intimacy you hadn’t had in years, but you melted into the rhythm and let it take over, your eyes were shut, and your hands reached for his shoulders, inviting you to roam your hands around. Chris moved himself closer, lost in the interlocking of passion that was taking hold of you two… Until it had to stop.

“...I do want something real with you, Chris… But please be patient with me.”

“Of course, everything that will happen, I will make sure you’re 100% okay with it… I won’t hurt you.”

You smiled softly, thankful for his understanding and how much he wanted to be with you. The night drifted with you two conversing, hugging, and finding the moment to kiss again, giggling about how much you missed that sensation with another, glad to share it with Chris.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Hours had drawn on, finally hitting where you two had to depart before Jill was up. Chris still couldn’t wipe that smile off his face, knowing you two were finally moving into something, not being ambiguous about anything. You two looked at the time, not mentioning it, to see if Chris would stay with you a little longer.

“I think I need to go before Jill finds out I’m here,” you wrapped your arms around him even more tightly.

“Will I see you again soon?”

“I’ll be here again before you go to bed, and I’ll see you throughout the day.”

You gave him a final kiss before parting with him, watching as he closed the door fully, letting you close your eyes and relieve the whole night for a few moments before Mason came rushing back into your room.

As you turned over, oblivious of the outside, Chris was met with the one person you didn’t want to see — Jill. Every morning, after the countless nights together, Chris would sneakily close the door without a sound, rushing back to his spot before Jill even woke up, only today she happened to wake up earlier. She stood there with her arms folded, head tilted as she waited for Chris to speak. He just looked at her, defeated.

“Speak of the devil,” Chris said to himself, “Jill, just say what you want,” he turned to face her.

She moved one step closer: “You can never help yourself, can you?”

This ignited subtle anger in Chirs; all those nights you two had, how you confided in him about Jill’s overprotectiveness, Chris thought about how he would tell you; you were probably overthinking, but now he could witness the overprotectiveness that made you feel like you were constantly behind in your process with trauma.

“Y/N can make her own decisions; I never forced myself or made her be with me; we just… kinda hit it off.”

“You know she isn’t in the right state of mind to make a decision; she’s traumatised, she needs to heal, and all you’re doing is… being a safe replacement for Leon.”

“I’m not a fucking replacement!” he raised his voice, “If it was a few months after, fair enough, but it’s been five goodman years; in those years, we’ve made something that is finally happening, don’t you dare call me a replacement.”

“Do you like her, or is it just the easy option with the lack of missions recently? I don’t trust that you’re being sensitive to her situation.”

“Jill… That’s low, and you know it is… Ask her yourself if you don’t trust me,” he looked away, returning to his spot.

“Oh, before you go, Chris,” he rolled his eyes, “Leon woke up, he’s downstairs in the quarantine zone being monitored… He wants to speak to someone; it might as well be the man moving in on the woman he has a child with.”

Right there and then, time had stopped. You weren’t aware of this, but Chris, Jill and everyone who walked the building knew Leon wasn’t dead as you believed. When you pulled the trigger, you didn’t damage any vital organs and allowed him to live. And now he had woken up… Striking fear in everyone and making everyone watch him like a hawk to protect you.

©︎ admirxation. please do not copy or steal my works.

my links: masterlist | ao3 | kofi

taglist: @vlntinethinker @justasweatydogman @moolvn @cryptcutiee @ginswife @syynnaaah (if your name isn’t on here it’s because it wouldn’t register, please comment if you want to be tagged in future posts).

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x you #fanfiction #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x female reader #leon kennedy x fem!reader #yandere! leon kennedy #yandere!leon kennedy #yandere!leon #resident evil 4 #resident evil 4 remake #smut #resident evil smut #leon kennedy x y/n #chris redfield #jill valentine #admirxation #admirxation brocken locks #admirxation the perpetual chase

[milksnake-tea]

━━ homecoming.

He was always your favorite, ever since the day you'd found him. But you knew you couldn't keep him forever. One day, he would have to leave.

merman!blade x gn!reader

contains: fluff, hurt/comfort, a smudge of angst, blade is a little shit, reader is a scientist, potentially ooc blade, a hint of abandonment issues, making out (but nothing suggestive), not edited we die like jing liu, written before version 1.1

word count: 1.7k

a/n: posting this on the last day of mermay because ofc i am (im pst so shhh its not june yet). anyways merman blade is the most genius thing i have ever thought of no one will convince me otherwise

Your research facility was unlike any other in the world.

The hallways were enshrouded in darkness, with the only light sources being the illuminated tanks that lined the walls. They varied in size and shape, some cylindrical, others rectangular. Some tanks were lucky enough to have entire biomes in them, ranging from gorgeous coral reefs to murky kelp forests, and some had nothing in them at all. But what every tank had in common was an eerie glow of cyan that pulsated throughout their waters.

As you walked past the exhibits - your footsteps echoing loudly throughout the empty halls - your specimen began to unravel to life.

Electric eels sparked with lightning as you passed, and beside them, gigantic sea serpents hissed and coiled. Grindylows peeked from behind their forests, and jellyfish of all forms drifted aimlessly through their tanks. An eye the size of a soccer ball watched you from the largest exhibit of all, the giant squid thrilled to see its master.

This institute was home to mythology and biology alike, where fables rested alongside common knowledge. Here, in the middle of nowhere, with no land in sight, you were in the eye of the storm - vulnerable to the truths behind old sailors’ tales.

Despite this, you loved your job more than anything. These creatures that you studied, that you nurtured and raised, were like your children. Even the various hippocampi (who you didn’t have the heart to keep within your walls), were dear to you, and you to them.

Yes, there was the occasional sea monster that you had to shoot down. Yes, there were the occasional sirens who would try to lure you to your death. Most of the ocean’s creatures were dangerous, and well aware of it. Unfortunately, you were too smart and too stubborn to die.

A sharp tap on glass snapped you out of your thoughts. Smiling knowingly to yourself, you walked up to a cylindrical glass tank that spanned two stories tall, encircled by spiraling stairs.

“Hey, Blade. Missed me?” You greeted, placing a hand on the glass.

Out of all of the creatures that you held within your home, he was your favorite.

He really was a beauty. Gifted with a slender black tail, seared with a vicious red, the merman swayed gently in his tank, sleek, almost sharp fins flowing around him. Blackened scales gave way to fair skin, scarred with scratches and bites from previous battles. His hair billowed around him like a dark cloud, fading from black to a soft maroon.

You'd found Blade a few weeks ago, bleeding out in the coral reefs surrounding your little island of a facility. He’d likely gotten into a fight with other merpeople, as the more territorial ones tended to do. Even now, the wounds hadn’t completely healed, with bandages still wrapped around his abdomen.

Blade’s ever-cold face barely budged at your greeting. The second your hand met his tank, he backed away, swimming up towards the top of his tank - naturally expecting you to follow. You sighed, shaking your head knowingly.

By the time you had climbed the staircase to the top, Blade was already lounging on the stairs leading into his waters. His wet hair clung to his body as he watched you expectantly, his tail flicking small waves into motion. Sunlight cascaded over him from a glass ceiling, bathing him in a gentle light.

“You’re late.” His eyes never left your body as you neared him, eyeing you like a hungry predator.

You dropped your bag off some counter lining the walls. “I was dealing with the new shipments.”

“Oh? Am I finally getting some company?” Blade asked sarcastically, stretching like a cat in the warm sun. You don’t think it was an accident that he rolled over, shamelessly showing off his sculpted abdomen.

“Like I could just order a merman off the web,” you scoffed, sitting next to him and dipping your legs into the tank. “You’re just a special case.”

He didn’t respond to that, merely watches you with an emotion that you can’t quite pinpoint. Knowing him, it could be anything from warm affection to a mischievous desire to inconvenience you by the slightest amount. He was petty like that.

Briefly, his tail came to brush against your legs. You giggled at the action, the thin fins ticklish against your skin. A flicker of a smile flashed across Blade’s face, gone just as fast as it had appeared.

“How are your wounds?” you asked, your hand absentmindedly coming to pet his head. Where Blade would have bitten anyone else, the merman keened at the touch, closing his eyes briefly.

“Better.” His voice was barely above a whisper as you threaded your fingers through his wet hair.

“That’s good. No pain?”

“None,” he answered. As you removed your hand, for a moment, he chased it, before he met your teasing eyes and remembered himself. Coughing, he quickly turned away, refusing to meet your amused gaze.

“At this rate, you’ll be leaving sooner than expected,” you hummed. Blade’s eyes widened at your words, an unfamiliar pang hitting his chest. “I’m sure you’ve been missing your friends.”

Blade scoffed at the notion, rolling back onto his chest to stare at the floor. “Hardly.”

“Well,” you shrugged, kicking up some water. “At the very least, you’d miss the open waters.”

That, he couldn’t deny. But even still, the thought of finally leaving the facility had become foreign to him. Three weeks prior, he would’ve jumped at the opportunity to get out of this place, this tank. But now, he wasn’t so sure.

“Hey, chin up.” Your hand cupped his cheek, bringing him to look up at you. “It’s not like you’ll never see me again. You can always visit.”

He doubted that. Out in the ocean, he had little free time to himself. He would spend his days constantly on the run from various mermaid kingdoms and tribes, and if not that, he’d be hunting, searching for his next meal. He journeyed the seas without end. Blade was a vagrant, a wanderer without a home.

But here, perhaps…

His body moved without thinking. Pushing himself up onto his arms, he leaned over you, water droplets falling onto your shirt as he caged you between his arms. His gaze had become hazy, his eyes lidded. His breath shuddered in his chest as he pressed his forehead against yours, drinking in as much of you as he could.

Blade didn’t say much, but he didn’t have to. You heard his words loud and clear, without him needing to say a word.

Stay.

It was unclear who he was talking to, whether it be you or himself. There was a subtle desperation in the way his chest heaved as he breathed, breathless without a thief.

Your arms, your welcoming arms, wrapped around his shoulders like a warm blanket, bringing him in for an embrace. Immediately, he latched onto the opportunity, gripping onto you as though you’d disappear if he dared loosen his grip. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent, forever engraving it into his memory.

If only he was human, he’d lament. If only he could walk the lands like you did. If only the two of you weren’t separated by land and sea. If only - his grip became just a little tighter - he could stay like this a little longer.

You stroke the back of his head gently, feeling Blade shiver at your touch. He wasn’t crying - you didn’t know if he even remembered how.

Deep inside, you wanted him to stay. You didn’t want to let him go. It was an ugly, selfish part of you that wanted to keep him for yourself. But you knew you couldn't keep him here. He had to return to the ocean, where he belonged.

He pulled away from you, yet still held onto your arms like a lifeline. You never thought you’d describe the stoic merman as desperate, but there was no other word that could properly depict the emotion swirling in his eyes.

Your hands came to cradle his face gently, unable to say a word. Blade’s breath hitched.

His lips barely parted as he spoke, his voice raspy and low.

“Forgive me.”

That was the only warning you got before he crashed his lips into yours.

His kiss was unlike any other you’ve had. Whereas your previous experiences were tender and romantic, this was hungry, raw, depraved. Blade kissed you with the fervor of a starving man, as though you would be his final meal. He was aggressive with his affections, practically clawing onto your shirt as he clutched you closer to him.

Your heart raced in your chest as you met his violent dance, parting your lips for a moment to allow him to slip in his tongue. You welcomed him in, firmly holding his face. Emotions swirled in you like the blurred voices of a crowd, overwhelming and satiating you at the same time.

To say that you were surprised by his actions would be a lie. You’ve known his feelings for a while now, and had plenty of time to accept yours. It was obvious, in the gentlest touches, in the way he could make you smile just by being around you.

You’ve avoided acknowledging these feelings for the longest time, and so did he.

When the two of you finally parted, a string of saliva connecting the two of you, the only thing you could do was watch. You studied Blade’s face, clearly now, for the first time. Your fingers traced around his jawline, admiring how his cheeks had become dyed with a pretty red. You swiped over his parted lips, still catching his breath from the kiss. Your thumb rubbed just underneath his eyes, brushing away the loose strands of hair from his face.

You’ve always known he was a beauty, but in this moment, he simply took your breath away.

Blade covered your hand in his, nuzzling into your palm. He softly pressed his lips to your inner wrist, a stark contrast from the kiss he’d just ravaged you with. He kept his eyes solely on you as he did this, trapping your gaze with his stare.

“I’m not leaving.”

“Huh?” You blinked, trying to snap yourself out of your daze. Blade smirked against your palm, swiping out his tongue and dragging it against your skin.

“Come, now,” he mused. “You didn’t think you could get rid of me that easily, did you?”

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai star rail blade #hsr blade #honkai star rail blade x reader #blade x reader #hsr blade x reader #x reader #y/n #reader #reader insert #oneshot #mermay #archives 🏵️

[its-time-to-write]

Thank you so much for the response to my request <3. the fic was better then I could have hoped!!!!

I have a new request (but feel free to focus on the story themes you were wanting to do!), I have been really wanting to see a Jamie fic where he takes care of sick reader. Could be period or illness (no preference) and Jamie has no idea how to help but tries his best. I think its a cute idea

Can't wait to read more of your fics!

Thank you so much for requesting!! Literally love when people ask me to write things. Also, apparently everyone loves a sickfic because my other one has the most notes of everything I’ve written. Anyway, here’s your fic!

there’s orange juice in the kitchen

You are not sure of much, but you know one thing: you’re in pain. It’s 2am, and you’ve gotten a grand total of two hours of sleep. You’ve given up on laying in your bed and have filled up your bath with hot water, bubbles, and bath salts. Lots of bath salts. Your abdomen feels like it’s shredding itself and you suppose, technically speaking, it is. You’re just relieved that tomorrow is the weekend and you don’t have to slog through a work day, white-knuckling these absolutely ripping period cramps. 

You don’t have regular periods like, ever, and your doctor’s concerned about your fertility. You remember waving it off with the statement, “That’s a problem for another day.” Thing is, that was just a cop-out. You didn’t want to think about it for a single second because then it would become real, and you make it a personal point never to complain about a period no matter how brutal it is because at least it’s something and never mind that your last one was four months ago, you’re ok. You have a good life and good people and you’re fine. 

It’s just the principle, you know? The desire of choice. 

The hormones don’t help either. 

But anyway, you’re in your tiny bath trying to soothe the pain you’re in, trying to make yourself tired enough to fall asleep once you get out. You breathe, in, out. In, out. 

You’re up till 6am when you finally doze off. 

—

You wake up in a sweaty haze. You’re in soft pants and a large t-shirt, on top of your sheets rather than in them. You reach for your phone then pull your legs in with a sharp gasp. You’re still in pain. 

It subsides so you reach again and check the time. 9:01. You groan. Three hours of dubious sleep is not enough. You have a missed text from Sam (remind me which brand of kitchenware you use?) two missed texts from Keeley (look at this absolutely adorable puppy! Attached: 1 Image), and a missed call from Jamie. 

Ah, right. Jamie. 

Your boyfriend. 

Who you were supposed to meet for breakfast exactly sixteen minutes ago. 

Shit. 

You call him back and he answers on the first ring. 

“Hey love!” he says. “You alright? Not like you to miss breakfast.”

You grimace. “I uh, I wasn’t feeling well last night and I haven’t slept very good. I forgot to text you. Didn’t fall asleep until 6.”

“A.M.?” Jamie asks and you reply to the affirmative. He lets out a long “shiiit,” followed by a, “how contagious are you?”

“For you? Not very,” you say. “For another girl, incredibly contagious, although some say that’s an old wive’s tale.”

Jamie is silent in confusion, then- “Ohh, I get it! You’re not sick-sick, you’re on your fucking period.”

You chuckle, despite remaining curled up on your side. 

“Yes,” you reply, “My fucking period. I feel nauseous and tired and I am bleeding so. Much. It’s like my body’s making up for the last four months of nothing.”

Jamie’s silent for a moment and you internally cringe, kicking yourself for over sharing. You haven’t been together that long, about a month and a half, and he doesn’t need to know that about you. He’s a famous footballer, after all, and a guy’s guy. Probably gets grossed out about periods and stuff. 

Then he says, “Can I come over? I’ll bring food,” and your worries almost completely evaporate. 

“As long as you don’t care about how disgusting I am or the fact that I hurt a lot, sure,” you say. “I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

—

Jamie’s at your flat in 40 minutes, which is fast considering how much food he walks in with. He’s brought a bag of Chinese takeout, plus two overflowing grocery bags. 

“This is for now, these are for later,” he explains. He’s in a pink sweatshirt with matching shorts and socks, and maybe it’s the damned hormones again but he looks hot. His hair is pushed back with a headband and you want him to fuck you. You don’t think you can convince him, though, what with the blood. And the fact that he’s Jamie fucking Tartt. And that he probably doesn’t do shit like that because it’s gross. 

Your brain whispers, but he’s here, isn’t he? so you just push that thought down to live with other scary ones like, I will never have kids, or I’m going to live with this pain for the rest of my life.

Jamie is oblivious to this, just pulling everything out of the bags and chattering on. He’s kicked off his trainers near the door, and he hasn’t made any comments about the fact that you’ve wrapped a blanket around your shoulders like a shroud, or that your hair is in the messiest bun in the history of the world. Not the sexy, reader-insert fan fiction type of messy bun, either. Just an I-did-not-get-anywhere-NEAR-enough-sleep-last-night messy bun. 

“-and me mum always drank orange juice, swore it helped with bloating or hydration or somethin’, I don’t really know, but I got some of that too and this tea that’s supposed to help with cramps, and also a shit-ton of chocolate because I didn’t know which kind was your favorite. I was thinking we can sit on the couch and watch a movie or play Animal Crossing or some shit while eating the takeout, then I can cook you a proper fucking meal later. Coach always says it’s important to have a balanced meal when you’re under the weather, and I think it applies to this too.” He stops when he notices you just looking at him. “You alright, babe?”

“Yeah, I just- why did you get all this?” you blurt out. 

For the first time since you’ve known him, Jamie looks unsure of himself. “I dunno. I mean, I do know. You didn’t sound great over the phone, and Keeley’s always telling me to fucking listen to other people, and me mum was always the same on her period so I used to get her the things she wanted all the time. And-” he takes a breath, “and I picked up on what you said. The fuckin’ four-months shit. That ain’t good babe. Even I know that. And, we haven’t been together that long, but I’m pretty fucking sure you know that too, and I wanted to let you know I’m sorry.”

You’re momentarily fixed on the way he says certain words. Keeleh. Sorreh. It’s sweet, for some reason, and it causes a dull ache in your chest. You realize what he’s actually said to you and that ache deepens. You’d kiss him if you weren’t sure your breath was gross. 

So instead, you settle for nodding and staring at your kitchen wall. That’s because option one is kissing and option two is crying. You can’t do either right now.

A traitor tear slips out your eye anyway, and you hope Jamie won’t see it. He does. 

“Hey, hey.” He comes around the counter and pulls you into a hug, blanket shroud, messy bun, and all. “Love. It’s alright. It’s alright. You’re not alone, and we’re going to go sit on the couch and eat as much food as we can and then pass out, alright? We’re not going to think about anything else except what’s right in fuckin’ front of us.”

“That was,” you sniff, “weirdly philosophical. And very sweet. And I’m sorry for being disgusting.”

Jamie pulls away from you, and you think this is the first time he’s realized how gross you are. 

“Don’t say that shit, babe,” he says, and you laugh before you realize he isn’t joking. 

“I’m serious,” he continues. “You might feel disgusting, but you aren’t. You smell like fucking lavender, for Christ’s sake. Your pajamas are clean, and so’s your hair. Might be fuckin’ messy right now, but me mum also taught me to braid, so it’s nothing that can’t be fixed.”

You pull him back against you and let some more tears come out. 

“Why are you being so nice,” you ask, voice muffled through his sweatshirt. 

“Oh, dunno,” he replies, hint of a smile in his voice, “Think you’re fit. I like shower sex. You pick.” He pauses. “Maybe both. Heard that it can help with cramps.”

You laugh wetly into his chest. He’s warm and comforting, and so completely not what you expected him to be. You both stand in the kitchen for another minute, his cheek resting on your head before he says, “Oi, you hungry?”

“God, yes,” you say, “I could eat a fucking horse.”

“Good.” Jamie picks up the bulging bag of takeout and a roll of paper towels. “Lead the way, babe.”

—

It’s not until much later, after you’ve eaten, watched a movie, and showered (and all that implies) that you realize you’re finally tired. Finally calm. You let yourself relax on your bed in Jamie’s arms, breathing in his clean smell. In, out. In, out. By the third breath, you’re asleep. 

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

[eyebaus]

i think for me the appeal of ferryv2 is that v2 was a peace time machine and was meant to be around humans and keep the peace and ferryman being a husk that has crafted a ferry that is so dearly similar and filled with love like the human life that v2 was SUPPOSED to maintain the peace of is so.. ue... ( wipes taers

NO YOU GET IT THATS WHY IM GETTING SO ;;__;; ABOUT IT

they don't meet in-game but could you imagine.

v2, a product made not to fight for but as a result of the war, for the cause of peace for protection for security for humanity, to live alongside them but was a prototype which means they might not have gotten to fulfill their purpose that much nor would they know what humanity used to be like before the remains of the war. in its wake only left destruction and death and etc. Even as the new peace was established what was left? and now in hell after v1 defeats it they target machines using violence steering away from what they were meant to be and do.

our ferryman, who might not have even experienced the said war, who was already in hell during it and saw the final remains of humanity come pouring down into the river styx until it was fed and fed and fed until it grew into an ocean.. their boat looks aged and old, it doesn't look very modern (albeit the timeline isnt the same as ours) i don't think during the war there would've been environments to paint or sculpt or etc so she likely got to see the world before the skies were littered with bombs and the sun was choked out by smoke and decay. The environment in their vessel is cozy and radiates warmth, a warmth likely experienced before their death, they're like a sort of remnant of the past and their books could tell tales of what the world used to be (along with their own storytelling) and yet they hate it. this humanity plagues them, holds them from being truly divine, but it's in their nature as much as they despise it.

they hate it. they hate it so much. but v2 cant help but revere in it as the ferryman unconsciously lets the abundance of love and humanity inside them steer their actions. If anything they're already divine in some sense, that very humanity defines them and it'd hate to see them hide it away for the sake of being holy.

they don't even need v2's protection, their ferry is in good hands and their hands have been stained with blood time and time again, but it stays by their side anyway and doesn't give her a set destination to depart at as they've already found it.

#Sorry chat im normal hope this coheres #ferryv2 #ferryman ultrakill #v2 ultrakill #asks #etched #words #long post #something something parallels where ferry kills other ferrymen and v2 killed other machines or something #vee loves ferry for everything that is her okay. i dont know. i havent had breakfast

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Hello hello!

I saw your “Them comforting reader after a long day” post and i thought how about a “reader comforts them after a long day” with Furina/Mona and whoever you choose. I’m gonna go back to bing read your posts now! Take care!

Comforting them after a long day

characters: Furina / Mona x gn!reader (separate)

warnings: maybe slight hurt/comfort, but mostly fluff

a/n: Couldn't exactly go the full comforting route in Mona's path, bc let's be honest. That girl is too proud to show even a little bit of weakness or vulnerability, but this should do as well.

Oh, also: FINALLY A REQUEST FOR MONA I LOVE HER SO MUCH I- SOJDVNIJSDVNSIDVNSIDJVNIJSDNV

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Furina

Even though Furina had promised herself not to hide behind a facade any longer, there were times she instinctively fell back on her old habits, the 500 year old autopilot that made it possible for her to keep her secret for so long not disappearing overnight. So when she finally closed the doors to her apartment, only to immediately turn around, lean onto them and let gravity do its job until she had slid down to a sitting position, Furina finally closed her eyes before letting out a heavy sigh she had held back for far too long.

“That was a big one. Want to talk about it?” Your voice suddenly rang out, causing her eyes to snap open and quickly land on your silhouette in the hallway as she struggled to leap back up, embarrassment flaming up in her as she tried her best to play it off as if nothing happened, only for her to end up leaning awkwardly against the door.

“Want to talk about what?” Furina shot back immediately, only to silently cringe at the way her words came out, putting on a smile as she slowly took off her shoes and coat and made her way over to the living room, being closely followed by you.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s also fine. Can I take your hand for a bit?” You eventually stated with an understanding smile, grabbing her head once she gave you a nod and starting to massage it by pressing your thumbs against different spots.

It wasn’t like Furina didn’t want to tell you… actually getting her complaints off her chest probably wouldn’t feel so bad. There was nothing stopping her except old habits and the fear something bad might happen once she opened up, that she inherited from her “former life” as Fontaine’s Archon.

“ No, I want to. But I’ll warn you. It might be a long and ultimately boring tale, so are you sure you want to list–” Furina interrupted her melancholic monologue when you pressed against a particular point on her hand, causing her to suddenly yelp in pain as you briefly stopped and looked up at her once again, your face asking her if you should stop. Just like with her opening up, your hand-massage was painful, yet also felt… pleasant and before long she signaled you to continue before reopening her mouth. “–so are you sure you want to listen to it?”

Without a moment of hesitation you responded, giving her a determined nod as you continued to carefully massage the same spot until stopped being painful, showing Furina one last encouraging smile until her complaints and worries started to pour out of her mouth. The former Archon talking until she felt the corners of her mouth dry up, with you intently listening to each and every one of her words.

…Maybe being more open every once in a while didn’t feel too bad.

Mona

Being an Astrologer was what Mona had always dreamed of being, so when it came to it, she wasn’t scared of pouring every single second of her free time into her work, even when chances were her research would reach a dead-end. Because even with fate ordaining everything that ever happened or still lied in the future, there was no way of knowing how things were going to turn out without at least giving them a shot.

So having her the last couple of weeks worth of work turned out to be for nothing when it became clear it wasn’t going anywhere was nothing Mona was unfamiliar with. It was simply a part of her job after all… but even though the great Astrologer Mona Megistus would never admit to being bothered by setbacks, you knew her better than to fall for her unaffected facade.

“Do you have ingredients at home?” You suddenly asked in the middle of your walk, immediately gaining Mona’s attention as she quickly got lost in thought, trying to remember what food she had used up and what still remained, only to eventually give up and shrug her shoulders, letting out a small sigh as she straightened her hat.

“There might still be some left. I can’t say for sure though, keeping stock of my supplies wasn’t exactly something I kept in mind these last few days,” she admitted only for you to quickly whip around your head, a smile adorning your lips as you came up with a suggestion.

“Let’s go out and eat something! That’s something we didn’t do in quite a while.” Considering Mona’s thoughtful look and how she paused in her tracks for a few seconds, it was fair to say that she wasn’t completely against your proposal, even if you were sure it would still require a lot of convincing to get her to finally agree.

“I’m not sure. Going out to eat when you could just as well buy ingredients and cook something is a waste of money isn’t it?” She hesitantly responded, still pondering as her fingers continued to scratch her chin. Truth be told. You couldn’t agree with her more. You had recently spent a lot of your money on things that in hindsight didn’t exactly prove to be the wisest investments, but even so, you felt as if it was your duty to get Mona to eat something tasty today, even if it meant eating nothing but bread and butter for a few days.

You knew Mona better than to not notice how demoralized she seemed the last few days, her sudden mood change and her increase in free time coinciding too well for it to mean anything except her latest research turning out to be for naught. Of course you knew better than to confront her directly about it… something that would only lead to Mona getting defensive as she’d deny feeling down about anything, too proud and stubborn to open up. And so, the only option left was for you to do what you did best.

“I know… But you’ve been so busy these last few weeks so I couldn’t see you all that much and... I’ve missed you,” you explained while trying your best impression of a puppy, “So can we please go out today?” When you saw Mona’s face heat up slightly as she quickly glanced around the two of you, looking if there was anyone in earshot, you knew your plan turned out to be a success, having to do your best to stop your lips from curling up into a smile when she let out a yet another deep sigh. 

“Fine, but stop saying embarrassing things. We’re in public.”

#furina #furina x you #furina x y/n #furina x reader #mona x you #mona x reader #mona #mona megistus #mona megistus x reader