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moonydustx · 3 days

Note

Hey, Brazilian here!!! Can you write about Law x Sick!Reader?

Oi oi! Mais um dia, mais um atraso om os pedidos. Primeiro, muito obrigada pelo seu pedido <3 Aqui e aqui temos algumas histórias sobre Law x Sick!Reader. Mas como é quase irresistível escrever sobre nosso pirata favorito, hoje eu trouxe mais uma. Espero de verdade que goste!

And here’s the translation: Hi Hi! Another day, another delay with orders. First, thank you so much for your request <3 Here and here we have some stories about Law x Sick!Reader. But since it's almost irresistible to write about our favorite pirate, today I brought one more. I really hope you like it!

Requests are back soon, don't give up on me!

one piece masterlist

The isolated

Law x Sick!Reader (F!Reader)

warnings: idiots who don't know how to show their feelings, maybe there is a wrong use of DF, certainly medical errors because I'm not very good at writing this topic.

The sun shone brightly outside the Polar Tang, matching the summer island you had stumbled upon. Beaches, parks, and even a small forest trail awaited you, and despite Bepo's grumbles, it promised to be a good time to relax.

"Are you two staying here?" you adjusted your backpack on your back and stopped beside your captain. "There's so much to do."

"I only leave here to buy ice, or ice cream." Bepo, sprawled on the deck, grumbled. Your eyes soon turned to the captain's.

"And you?"

"Maybe I'll go to the city later, need to buy some things." he said, assessing you from head to toe. "Aren't you going to the beach with them?"

"Not really. From what I saw, there's a pretty cool trail to hike, I can take the opportunity to get some new herbs."

"Hm, alright." he replied, returning to contemplating Bepo suffering in the heat.

"Any problem, Captain?"

"No, nothing serious." Lie. The invitation for you to accompany him on the small visit to the city lingered on his lips, but apparently, it would stay there. "Enjoy your trail."

"Thanks, Captain! I'll be back before the end of the day."

You disembarked from the ship without further difficulties, following the small map you had bought earlier. On the Polar Tang, Law watched from afar as you walked away. He held a certain fondness for you - one you would never suspect - making it difficult for him to approach. Despite the shared breakfasts and the plant and herb lessons you gave him, which he insisted on attending despite knowing most of the content already, he enjoyed being with you. It was a pity he didn't know there was a reciprocal feeling on your part.

On the other hand, you even expected an invitation to accompany him, but just as he didn't seem very interested in being on your trail, he also didn't seem interested in your company. The hours passed without end, and with each passing moment, you grew more and more exhausted. Even before the sun set, you were already making your way back up to the Polar Tang.

"What the hell happened to you?" Shachi was the first to ask, catching your attention as you headed towards the submarine's interior.

"What the hell what?" you looked over, seeing nothing abnormal except for the fatigue and heat in your body, likely from all the walking.

"We better call the captain." Jean Bart advised and didn't wait for a response, running further into the submarine.

You tried to see something in some reflection as you watched your colleagues avoid you as if you carried the plague within you. Your irritation with your friends was replaced by concern as soon as Law saw you. You expected a scolding, you expected some acidic comment from him, but you didn't expect the lack of words, except for the ones that made you teleport with him straight to the medical ward.

"Captain, what's happening?" you stumbled backward as he guided you not so gently to a stretcher.

"Open your mouth." he completely ignored your question, and you could tell he was more worried than usual, so you just obeyed. With a small flashlight, he checked what you believed was just your throat. "Can you breathe normally, have you felt anything?"

"I'm just a bit tired, that's all. I don't understand all this fuss." you grumbled.

Only then did Law realize that indeed, you knew nothing of what was happening or why everyone had practically become concerned. Looking for a mirror and finding it impossible to find one in the medical ward of the Polar Tang, he grabbed a small sterilized steel tray and passed it to you, indicating that you should look at yourself.

"What?" your cry echoed through the enclosed room. Your face, neck, and every piece of skin you could see were adorned with red and swollen lumps. "Law, what's happening to me?"

"At first, I thought it might be an allergic reaction. But with unobstructed airways, I rule out that possibility, given the size of these lumps, if it were an allergy you shouldn't be breathing." he touched your face, gently turning it from side to side.

"And you're speaking so calmly?"

"If I spoke more agitatedly, you'd get nervous, your body would pump your blood faster, and if it were poison it would only take a few minutes for you to drop dead here." again, that calmness in dealing with serious matters infuriated you. "It might be that," he muttered to himself.

"Poison? Am I poisoned?" you stood up and immediately stumbled, leaning against his arms. "Am I going to die?"

"Probably, maybe, and no." he helped you sit back down. "Just give me a minute, I suspect what it might be."

He disappeared from your sight, and immediately, it was as if exhaustion dominated your body. You allowed yourself to lie down and wait for a few minutes. When your eyes were already heavy - even though less than five minutes had passed - you saw him appear with a book in hand.

"Can you stand up and take off your clothes?" he asked, seeing you nod, even though it took minutes just for you to stand up.

Remaining only in underwear, Law took care not to touch your body disrespectfully. The lumps already occupied almost your entire skin, giving him some trouble finding what he needed. After turning you around a few times and bending down to see better, he unfortunately found what he suspected.

"Here!" he pointed to the side of your body and again picked up the small steel plate that served as a mirror. As soon as he showed you, you could locate two red dots. Law then stood up and took the book he had brought. "It's a type of bug common on this kind of island."

"And what does that mean?" you leaned on the cot, not bothering to put your clothes back on.

"Well, it's going to be a few difficult days, and I'll need to isolate you from the rest of the crew, but you'll be fine."

"What do you mean by difficult days?" you tried to grab his book, but he didn't allow it. The way the symptoms were written was much scarier than it should have been in reality, at least that's what he hoped.

"Some symptoms are quite annoying, but with the right treatment, in about six to seven days, you'll be cured." he explained, watching you nod slowly. "It's normal to feel a bit tired at first; you might feel a bit itchy tomorrow too."

"You said you're isolating me here, is there a risk I've contaminated someone?" contaminated you, you wanted to add, but preferred to keep the thought to yourself. "I haven't touched anyone, but you never know."

"Contamination is through fluids, so no, for now, we'll all be fine. Here, I can still use my fruit to ensure a bit more protection for myself." he closed the book and stooped down, picking up the clothes you were wearing. "I'll get rid of this, alright?"

"Can you ask Ikakku to bring something for me to wear?"

"You're isolated, for a few days, only I will be able to come here, okay?" His hand almost touched you, but retracted in the last moments. "While you're not feeling better, we'll stay here on the island, but visits to the trail will be prohibited to everyone. I'll bring your clothes in a few minutes."

Law left and left you alone for a few moments, only returning to bring your pajamas. Even though you said it didn't need to be that type of clothing, Law warned that you would still be thankful for it.

On the first day, you were completely alone as the captain made sure that no one was infected and that everyone was aware of the necessary precautions. The lumps on your face seemed even redder, and when you noticed, you were already scratching and clawing, seeking some relief from the agony crawling on your skin.

"Don't scratch, you'll regret it." Law's voice appeared, and only then did you realize that he had entered the room. "It'll hurt more afterward."

"But Captain!" you grumbled and brought your nails back to your legs, barely reaching them before he grabbed your wrist. "It's itching too much!"

"I brought this." Only then did you realize that he had come armed with things. In one hand, a small pot that from the smoke and aroma, should be food. In the other, a small bag. "Here are ointments that can help, Ikakku also set aside some more clothes and other things that you might need."

You barely waited for him to finish speaking and began rummaging through the bag, searching for the ointment. As soon as you smeared it wherever you could reach, under his attentive gaze, you didn't need to ask. It only took a single exchange of glances for him to reach out and take the ointment from you. As soon as the cold cream reached your back - and perhaps because of the gentle way his fingers slid - you swore you could melt.

"I think it's good." He returned the tube and lowered your blouse carefully. "I brought soup for you."

"I'm not hungry."

"But I need you to eat, please." His eyes seemed to plead on their own, making it almost impossible for you to refuse.

Law stayed longer than the day before, watching you eat and updating you on what had happened outside. From Shachi and Penguin almost getting beaten up by two women on the beach, to Bepo swimming with buoys and several other amenities. Although he stayed longer than the day before, it didn't take long for Law to leave you alone again.

The next morning, you understood what Law meant about regretting scratching. The vivid memory of your nails scratching your body was replaced by an unbearable burning sensation, which left you almost immobile. Except that it also itched, making you seek friction, however minimal. That morning, you were taken out of bed by Law's appearance. A tray was in his hand, and as soon as he placed it on the table, he transported two more bags in.

"How are you feeling today?" he stopped by your side, looking at your still-laying face. "Burning, isn't it?"

"Like hell!" you grumbled, and saw him laugh, as if to say he had warned you. "Can you fix this?"

"At best, alleviate it." he warned, and saw you nodding against the sheets. "But first, breakfast." His tattooed hand stretched out, and you used it as support to sit up.

Grabbing the bread and juice glass, you pushed the fruits in his direction.

"Eat too." he just waved his hand, and you insisted. "Please, Captain. It'll make me feel less strange."

"Okay, just a little." He grabbed one of the grapes and ate.

As soon as you finished, Law used the power of the Ope Ope no Mi to get you to a shower, and apparently, he had already left that isolation for you. He leaned against the outside and left you alone, washing your body. Even against his will, Law could hear your grumbles and sniffs, he knew that the contact of the water against the skin would be torture at that moment, but it was the best solution he could think of. How he wished he could take that pain away from you.

In the afternoon of that same day, you didn't expect to see him again, until once again he appeared in the room, armed with things that barely crossed your mind of what they could be.

"I-I…" he started, feeling a little insecure. He felt that perhaps, just maybe, he might be crossing the line between doctor and patient. "I believe you might be feeling lonely."

"You have no idea." you weakly laughed, accepting the package he offered. Some books, crosswords, and candies were piled in the package. "That's very kind of you captain, thank you."

"I brought more of these too." He piled some books next to you, with a glance you realized they were comics. "They help me pass the time, I think they might help you too."

"This is that story... Sora, right?" you flipped through some, excitedly. "I've always heard about it and even tried to read it, but I confess I didn't understand much."

"What didn't you understand?" he sounded almost offended, sneaking a peek at what you were talking about.

The idea was for him to just leave things there and leave you alone, but it seemed almost impossible that afternoon. Law got lost in the hours, what was supposed to be a simple explanation ended with him reading some issues aloud to you. He only realized this when he heard your stomach growl, knowing it was already dinner time.

In the following two days, you alternated between scratching, trying to avoid scratching, getting scolded by Law, and him losing hours again, talking to you. It had reached the point where Law and you were counting the hours to know when you would see each other's faces. You because you loved the company of your captain and how soothing his voice sounded when he read, or how he got excited gossiping about the "outside world," and Law felt he needed to see you up close, to ensure that you were and would be fine.

The last bout of symptoms was what worried Law, and it was when he entered the room and found you lying on the floor in a fetal position that he knew it had finally arrived. Although it meant that the illness was leaving your body, he knew it would be the most painful part.

"Law." your tearful voice called him as soon as he picked you up to put you back in bed. "My body hurts so much."

"I know, I know." he tried to calm you down and saw you curl up even more. "I promise, just one more day, and you'll be okay."

"I don't know if I can handle a whole day with so much pain." you sobbed and hugged yourself. "It hurts to breathe, it hurts to move, and-I-I don't know what to do."

He sighed, trying to think of how he could take that away from you. It was just one more day of symptoms, but it hurt him to hear from your mouth that you couldn't handle it. Just one more day, one more day, and you would be well again.

"Do you remember when the pain started?" he stepped away to start preparing a serum with medications for you.

"About two hours ago." you whispered, pulling the blankets against you and trying to press against your own body, the contact of your skin seemed like a relief.

"Okay, we have a few more hours ahead." he gently pulled your arm, and with the dexterity that only he could have, hit your vein on the first try, plugging the medication. "Maybe this will help a little with the symptoms."

Law stepped back again to get the book he had found the information about the insect that had bitten you. Most of it was that the symptoms were difficult, but they overcame themselves, and although it seemed like you were going to die, the probability was minimal. Pain and complications, pain and complications. Law finally found the topic he needed. When the disease was leaving the body, the heat provided by fire, blankets, humans could help, as well as pressure on the painful area.

"I have an idea." he murmured and began to take off his shoes.

While you were lying down, barely having strength to open your eyes, you saw him take off the shoes he was wearing and take off the hat he had on. The first thing he did was cover your head with the hat, making sure to keep as much of the top of your face covered and warm. Soon, he climbed onto the bed with you, his legs intertwined with yours, and his hands began to press against your body, promoting such relief that it drew a sigh from your lips and allowed you to stretch.

"Sorry." he apologized, his hands now pressing against your back intensely. "It's the best I could think of quickly."

"It's perfect." with some difficulty, you turned to him. "Thank you for taking care of me, Captain."

"This is my duty, isn't it?"

"Well, not when I'm a mess here, in pain, and crying." you tried to laugh, but a memory of a conversation you had some time ago struck you. "Enough, Law, you need to step back."

"And why would I do that?"

"Why do you think? Contact equals contamination, don't you remember?" you grumbled. Even though the massage he provided was the relief you needed, the last thing you wanted was to infect him.

"You're no longer so contagious. You're on the last day of the illness, full of symptom medications, and I'm protected, there's no possibility of you infecting me." he explained and felt your hand against his chest, trying to push him away. "Don't you believe me?"

"I'm a mess here, of course I'll infect you."

Instead of answering you, Law just stole a quick kiss from your lips, in an impulse of courage to show a little of what he felt and in the desperation to stop you from continuing to push him and, consequently, pushing himself out of the bed.

"I wouldn't do this if you were contagious, you know that." he simply said and pulled you closer, allowing your face and body to almost merge against his skin. "Now let me take care of you."

The last day of the illness passed faster than you expected, mainly because much of it you spent sleeping in the arms of your captain, who didn't stop for a second trying to ward off the pain from you.

The next day, you were finally free to walk around the submarine, take a shower freely, choose your own clothes, free from the small medical ward you spent those days in. As soon as you finished putting on your uniform, two knocks on the door caught your attention.

"Can we talk?" Law inquired, not waiting for the answer to enter the room. "About yesterday…"

"There's nothing I would change about that." you interrupted him, and you swore you could see a certain blush on his face. "Except the pain, I thought I was going to die."

"I would never let that happen."

"Captain?" you approached, stopping a short distance from him.

"Law, please." he corrected you. He liked to hear his title leave your lips, but hearing his name was a much more savory experience.

"Law, aside from all the pain and stress, it was good to spend these days alone with you." you confessed, seeing him nod. "Although I'm also ridiculous with those lumps that have now turned into scars, I really should have listened to you."

"Don't say that, even if you wanted to, you wouldn't be that." he refused to name you in such a rude way. "And I also enjoyed our time together."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I want to do it right." he cleared his throat, adjusting his posture and asking the question that could avoid all the stress of you having gone to do the damn trail. "Will you accept to visit the city with me?"

#fiction #reader insert #one piece #no use of y/n #trafalgar d law x reader #law x reader #law x you #trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader

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andromeda-nova-writing · 3 days

Text

Hate at first sight - Alhaitham Requested by @isekyaaa

Contains suggestive lines for the sake of a joke

“Tighnari, You know anyone who could translate this?” She brought over the book to him. It was an old book she found while cleaning up her grandpa’s house. A book in a foreign language that her grandpa had forgotten over the years leaving its contents unknown to his family. “It’s supposed to be an heirloom.”

Tighnari looked over the book she had handed to him. A language that was unrecognizable to him but recognizable in that he had seen one of his friends reading a book in what looked to be a similar language. “I know a guy. If you're free tonight you might have a chance to get it translated or at least be pointed in the right direction.”

“Why tonight?"

“Cyno made a new deck again. Your translator should be there.”

“I forgot you have game nights with the General Mahamatra. I shouldn't take up too much of your time. Well as long as this translater of yours is good at their job.”

“He is. Just know he can be a little blunt. Though little may be an understatement. And with Kaveh there, don't be surprised if you see some sort of argument.”

“You're friends must be a lively bunch. Wait Kaveh is the one with blonde hair right? He was the one who was here two weeks ago?” She asked making sure her memory was correct.

“He was. Why?”

“He gave me advice on what rug I should pick. He didn't even see where it would go and gave me perfect advice. I really would like to thank him. My living room actually feels like a separate room even though it's an open floor plan.”

“I'm sure he'll appreciate it.”

It was nice to say hello to Cyno even though she didn’t know that super well. Most of her knowledge came from Tighnari mentioning him. But that and the fact she didn’t talk to him much meant that she really didn’t know him. It was entertaining to hear a few of his jokes though. The juxtaposition of the wordplay with how stoic his delivery was may have been the only reason she enjoyed them though.

While Kaveh acted as if he had known her for their entire lives. He was warm and welcoming. But also the moment she thanked him it was like he became a second sun in the room. He was extremely giving, offering to give her home interior design advice any time. It was evident in his face and how he spoke how much he appreciated the thanks even if it was just over what shape of rug to get.

It was enjoyable to be around all three of them. Though as nice as their company was it wasn't the reason she Had followed Tighnari along to his game night With his friends at the tavern. She still had a book in her bag that needed to be translated and there was no translator in sight.

“Tighinari, are you sure your translator is supposed to be here?”

“I’m sure he’ll show.”

“Translator?” Kaveh asked before his smile evaporated away. “You’re here for Al Haitham?”

“That’s a first,” Cyno commented.

“Well, now my translator has a name. But yes.” She pulled the book out of her bag. “My grandpa said it’s a family heirloom but no one in my family can even read it. Tighnari said that he’d be able to translate it for me.”

“At a horrible cost though. You couldn't have just sent her in the direction of the Akademiya?” Kaveh asked, being quite dramatic about the situation.

“I'd rather have someone that Tighnari trusts than some I don't know who. The book is an heirloom after all.”

“It will be fine,” Tighnari reassured, he pointed at the door. “Even then, he’s here.”

Al Haitham made his way over to their table. He sat down at the table already looking annoyed at who knows what.

Tighnari was kinda enough to briefly explain the situation to him along with a basic introduction. Even though Al Haitham had agreed to translate he looked as if Y/N's simple request was asking too much. Maybe a frown was just permanently etched into his face.

Al Haitham held the book looking over the cover. “To count the ways.” He translated the cover before flipping through the pages. His eyes widen skimming through the contents. He looked over at Y/N who looked brimming with excitement to learn what was in the book. “This is just erotica.”

Cyno slowly placed the cards in his hands on the table now fully paying attention to what was unfolding in front of him. Kaveh choked on his wine only for Tighnari to pat his back as he coughed.

Y/N’s face dropped. “It's a heirloom. It’s been in my family longer than my grandpa has been alive. It can’t be. You must be mistranslating it.” She reasoned.

“Your heirloom is in an old form of a Fontaine language. A language I’ve been reading since I was 17. Do you want me to translate it aloud for you?” His words were an insult and a challenge to her.

“If you know it so well then could you give me a real translation.”

Al Haitham rolled his eyes opening the book back up. “Her eyes widen at the sight of his toned chest. In a frantic haze of want she quickly moved to help remove his belt excited to see the sight of his-”

Y/N snatched the book from his hands. Her face was warm with embarrassment. “It was nice talking with you three but I have to go.” She politely excused herself from others before turning to face Al Haitham. “You could drown in a ditch for all I care.”

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #Al Haitham #Alhaitham #Al Haitham x reader #alhaitham x reader #fem! reader #can you guess i can only deal with him in the group setting of 4ggravate #i do not like this man #he gets on my nerves and i hate that i agree with him so much #yes i have him at level 90 and also would like throw him down the stairs #i will happily take a joke prompt as way to practice other characters as well #though warning they could be out of character #i should have waited till after the new quest as a refresher on how everyone talks

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bookuce · 2 days

Text

Change My Mind

SUMMARY: Josh and Alina are great friends most days. Other days, they want to tear each other apart. Some days, they’re in love with each other, but neither of them will admit it.

*DISCLAIMER: This is a multi-part series. I do not own any of the characters in the writing except for the OC. The book also uses the actual names of the wrestlers. Gionna is Liv Morgan, Austin, is Xavier Woods, Josh is Jey Uso, Jon is Jimmy Uso, Trinity is Naomi, Alina is just Alina. The book is not realistic and does not take place during real events, but some actual events could pop up in the story eventually. I DO NOT GIVE ANYONE PERMISSION TO REPOST OR TRANSLATE MY WRITINGS ANYWHERE.*

PAIRING: Jey Uso x Black OC

TROPE: Friends to Lovers

WARNINGS: Language

WORD COUNT: 1,827

PART TWO

PART THREE

“Say, I have a question for you,” Austin says, giving Alina a bright smile. She smiles back at him, a sign of friendliness.

“What’s up?” She asks.

“How does one manage to be as beautiful as you? I mean, you are stunning, whew!” He exclaims. Alina giggles softly at the compliment. She places her arm on the back of the couch, propping herself up on it.

“That’s really sweet to say, Austin, thank you.” She grins.

“No, thank you for blessing me with your presence. I can end the night now knowing I got to talk to you.” She rolls her eyes at his words. She wasn’t sure what he was trying to do and why he suddenly took interest in her, but who was she to be rude? They’ve talked a few times in passing, but it was never for long. “We should get you on UpUpDownDown.” He says. She immediately begins to shake her head.

“I don’t really play video games. I’ve never been good at them.” She answers honestly. To let her come on the show would be a waste of time. She also wasn’t comfortable embarrassing herself like that in front of several people. She has watched a few episodes and knew it was a fun show, but her participating? Not happening.

“I doubt you’re as bad as you say you are.” He assures her.

“I wouldn’t lie to you,” She promises. “I am terrible at games.”

Jon still had an amused grin on his face while he watched the two talk. This man is stupid, he thought. Either Austin was crazy, or he didn’t care. Shit, probably both. “That man is going to kill his ass,” Jon mutters to Trinity.

“That’s on him.” She says, not looking up from her phone. “He warned him.” Jon looks up, catching the moment Josh pauses in his tracks at seeing Austin and Alina talking.

The eldest twin taps his wife’s thigh. “Look, look, look…” He points in Josh’s direction. This was going to be good.

Josh was happily on his way with Alina’s drink until he saw Austin had done the opposite of what he told him. They were sitting close, too close for his liking, and they seemed deep in conversation. Alina would smile at him, and Austin would smile back.

Nothing he says could be worth smiling over like that, he thought. Josh glances down at the drinks in his hand. Just go over there and give her her drink. He’ll move. Don’t cause a scene. It’s nothing, he tells himself.

If jealousy could kill, Josh would be dead ten times over. He craved the attention that everyone else got from Alina. The way she smiles at them, the way she talks to them. He wanted her to do the same to him. Instead, she’s awkward and quiet at times. That was frustrating to him. She never really hints at what goes on in her head. It made him question whether or not he should even feel how he felt. Then he’d see her trying with guys and failing, and it would make him feel some way. He just wanted to make her happy.

Josh sniffles, quickly regaining composure. He resumes his stride over to the group. When he approaches, he holds Alina’s drink out between the chatting pair. He was purposely blocking Austin’s view of her face. Alina turns to look up at him. “Ay, I got your drink.” He says, his eyes fixated on the guy next to her. Alina slowly takes the drink from him.

“Thank you, Josh…” She says.

“No problem.” He says quickly, now slowly swaying from left to right, a sign of impatience.

Alina continued to stare at him, but he would never meet her gaze. No, he was watching Austin, who was smirking at him. “You gonna sit down, Uce?” Jon asks, leaning forward. The elder twin was ready to jump up to stop his brother from doing anything stupid.

“Nah, I’m good.” He says, not breaking his glare. “You good, Uce?” He asks Austin. That was him telling Austin to move. Here he goes, Alina thought. She finally looks away from him, her lips touching the brim of her cup. She slowly tilts the cup back, drinking the cup full with no breaks. It’s going to be a long night. Austin scoffs slightly, his smile still intact.

“You got it.” He says finally, putting his hands up in defeat. He moves back into his previous spot. Josh moves to sit down in his seat.

“Was that necessary?” Alina asks.

He reaches down, grabbing her legs and pulling them between his own. “Yep.” Alina probably shouldn’t have giggled, but the two mixed drinks she shotgunned and tequila shots were beginning to creep up on her. He shouldn’t grab her like that.

“And who are you supposed to be?” She asks. Josh doesn’t answer her. Instead, he takes a swig of the beer in his hand. She places two fingers on his left cheek, forcing him to look at her. She lifts her eyebrows, waiting for a response. One never came. “That’s what I thought.” She drops her hand from his face. They would exchange stares until Josh would glance down at her lips. Lina would suck in a deep breath before inevitably looking away. He shouldn’t look at her like that. “Well, I want another drink.” She mutters to herself. “Who wants drinks?” She asks.

“I do,” Austin chimes in.

Alina moves to stand but is pulled back down to Josh. She plops into his lap, a gasp leaving her lips as she does so. He really shouldn’t grab her like that. “Nah, get someone else to do it.” He says. Alina’s brows furrow at him before she reaches down to remove his hand from her thigh.

“Please, go to hell.” She says, prying his hand off of her.

“Or I can go with you to the bar. How about that?” When she stands, so does he. She doesn’t argue with him, but she does roll her eyes. Alina turned her attention to the group again, only to find them staring at the pair. They weren’t sure what they were seeing. Was it fighting, flirting, or some sick combination of both? “Drinks?” She asks, gesturing to everyone.

“Get me another beer, Uce,” Jon says.

“Vodka Cran for me.” Orders Trinity.

“Two more shots of tequila.” Gionna requests.

“I’ll have a beer too.” Austin adds.

Alina steps around the couch, marching over to the bar. Josh follows behind her, leaving the group once more. Everyone exchanged glances at each other after the exchange. “They get like this every time they drink together,” Jon says, shaking his head. “How long before they fight and get us kicked out?” He asks, looking at Trinity.

“Depends. How many fruity drinks have Alina had?” She asks. It was always the fruity drinks that got poor Alina.

“Just one so far.” Gionna answers.

“It’s that bad?” Austin asks.

“Yes, fool!” Jon exclaims. “That’s why I said leave her alone! Them folks are crazy!” Alina and Josh, with alcohol in their systems, are a match made in Hell. Josh had been drinking since before Alina got to the club. The beer in his hand was his seventh. He had about three more in him before he was at the point of no return. Alina was on her third mixed drink, two of which were fruity. The tequila shots would bring her up to five drinks in total. She swears she has a high tolerance for alcohol, much like Josh does, but doesn’t. Neither of them do.

Separately, they were fine, but together? It’s a whole other story.

Josh follows behind Alina, his pace slower than hers. To him, it seemed she was trying to put space between them. She would tell him he was correct if he had to assume out loud. She shouldn't be turned on by the way he was acting tonight, but here she was, practically foaming at the mouth. Alina makes it to the bar, eyes fixated on the alcohol on the wall before her. The bartender would immediately come to her, ready to take her order. “One tequila sunrise, three beers, and a Vodka Cran.” Alina orders. She turns to Josh, who’s watching her. “I’m forgetting something.”

“Gigi’s shots.” He answers.

“Oh, right! And two tequila shots!” She says, turning to the bartender. The bartender walks away, leaving the couple alone. Josh placed his beer on the bar top and leaned in towards Alina.

“You look good.” He tells her.

She glances at him out of the corner of her eye. “Okay.”

“Here you go.” He huffs, shaking his head at her.

“What do you want me to say? Thank you?”

“Uh, yes? That’s the normal thing to say to compliments, Alina.”

She wasn’t much of a compliments person. It makes her feel like someone wants something from her when she hears them. The people pleaser in her would forever deliver even when she didn’t want to. “Thank you, Joshua.” She says finally.

“You’re trying to be funny.”

“I said thank you!” She says, laughing. Josh places his hand on the barstool behind Alina, blocking her in. After a bit of silence, she turns to him. “You look good too.” She says, leaning into him. The bartender put out her tequila sunrise, and she immediately grabbed it.

Josh glances down at his appearance. “Do I?” She nods. “I put this on for you.” He jokes. Alina would take a sip of her drink, humming softly at it. “Is it good?” Josh asks, leaning into her again.

“Yeah, taste it.” She brings her glass to his lips, all while still holding his gaze. Her stare always made him weak in the knees. All she had to do was look at him, and Josh was under her command. He’d part his lips slightly, allowing the rim of the glass to touch his lips. She’d tilt it back, letting the orange liquid touch his tongue. The taste of Orange Juice came and went quickly. All that was left behind was the strong taste of tequila. Josh pulls his head back. “Yeah?” She asks, lowering her drink.

“Nah,” He says quickly, shaking his head. “That drink is strong as hell.” They both start to laugh. God, they were drunk. Alina leans into his arms, burying her face in his chest. His hand would move from the chair and touch her back. That touch was the catalyst for what was to come. His fingertips would trace her spine, sending shivers along her body. She’d arch towards him, lifting her head to look at him. They were very close, their noses almost touching.

“You shouldn’t touch me like that.” She whispers.

“My bad.” He whispers back. His hand would curl against the small of her back, now closing and opening in a scratching manner. She shakily breathes, her head tilting down to break his gaze. “Lina.” He calls to her.

Ah, fuck it, Alina thought as she pulled his face to hers in a bruising kiss.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: So y'all blew the first and second parts of this up...that's cool lol.

Thank you to everyone who is reading this so far! I really do appreciate all the kindness and support I am receiving! It means a lot to me!

Stay tuned for part four!

🏷️list: @paigereeder @wrestlingprincess80 @thesamoanqueen @whatdoeseverybodywant @alichesmi @reci1996 @cyberdejos2 @empressdede @trashbin-nie @meannaim @siriuslycee

#jey uso #jey uso fanfiction #jey uso x black oc #jey uso x oc #wwe fanfiction #wwe fic #main event jey uso

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foxgloveprincess · 15 hours

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Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Female Reader [Second Person Narrator]

Summary: Without meaning to, you start toeing a very dangerous line.

Word Count: 3,441

Attic Wives Anonymous Masterlist

Warnings: UnBeta’d, Dark (Soft Dark), Dubious Consent, Surprise Side Character, Unreliable Narrator, Smut (Kissing, Fingering, Vaginal Penetration, Cunnilingus, Anilingus, brief Spanking, Face Riding, Dirty Talk/mild Degradation, unaware Exhibitionism), talk of Food/Nausea, Fantasizing, Threats/Threatening Behavior, Possessiveness, Shock Collars, Pet Names (lollipop, sucker, etc.). Minors do not interact (18+).

A/N: Ooooooh! I’m so giddy about this one! Enjoy!

I love feedback, so go ahead and reblog if you want. However, I give no permission to copy, translate, rewrite or post my work on any third party website or app. Seeing my work posted anywhere beside my blog, my library blog, or my AO3 account (FoxglovePrincess) means it’s been stolen/plagiarized.

I don’t do tag lists, so follow @foxglovefics to sign up for notifications on my fics.

Please DO NOT click ‘Keep Reading’ if you are not 18+ years of age or if you are uncomfortable with the pairing, themes, dynamics, or warnings. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Thank you!

Your head thumps with the pounding of the hammer. Curled up on your chaise, you try to take a nap to no avail. There’s no way you’ll be able to, not with your handler’s friend fixing the bed.

Shadow curls at your feet, resting his head on your legs. You’d tried to send the dog out to run through the garden—knowing how the noise must be hurting his ears. But he’d remained stalwart, immovable. Your fingers pet his wiry hair and you sigh.

The hammering stops and footsteps approach. You lift your head.

“It shouldn’t give you problems now,” the man says, low and gruff.

You try to remember his name—Carter? Curtis? Cory? Lloyd did introduce you when he arrived, but there’s nothing now. Unable to make the name materialize in your head, you simply say, “thank you.”

He crouches beside you, the sleeves of his flannel folded up by his elbows. His fingers, dry and slightly dusty, trace along the line of your flimsy skirt as it splays over the cushion.

“Is there anything else you need?” he asks. His tone suggests something more, the rough edges of it softening with his offer.

Shadow raises his head and looks to the man beside you. A deep, rumbling growl vibrates his chest. The man moves his hand, placing it instead right where your body bends in recline. Heat radiates from him through the thin fabric of your dress. You shift and fidget at the proximity.

“I’m handy with all sorts of things. And Lloyd told me to help you out with anything that came to your mind.”

He gazes up at you, blue eyes stormy. Though he wears a beanie over his head, feeding into the intimidation of his broad shoulders and bulky muscled frame, he’s gentle—it’s in his eyes, the way he looks at you. Ever so slightly, he rocks forward on his toes, invading your space.

“I—”

Your guard dog jumps from the chaise and moves toward the stranger. Not yet biting or baring teeth, he positions himself between you. Blocking him from you. The man concedes, falling back to his heels with a chuckle.

“Time for you to go, Everett,” a voice calls from the door.

A guard stands just outside the threshold, hand on the gun at his belt. You glance over with a smile. Nick Fowler, the new head of the estate’s security. He catches your eye and tips his head in acknowledgment. Bouncing up, you pad over on bare feet, careful of your invisible, electrified boundaries.

“Hi,” you greet, happy to see the man but perplexed by his presence. “I thought Mr. Hansen was home?”

“Business called him away,” Fowler says, eyes like a hawk, watching the repair man pack away his tools and grab his jacket. All with his hand ready to whip out his gun and take aim. He does that a lot when others are around—keep himself ready to protect you—even from his own men.

“Huh,” you mutter. His statement sinks in and disappointment washes over you—Lloyd had promised a nice day together. Only a few hours spent away in his office. His time with you promising the possibility of freedom outside your room in his company.

The repair man slips between the two of you through the door and huffs a quiet goodbye. He barely warrants notice. Your guard watches him. You do not when you echo a brief farewell.

“I was told to bring you this,” Fowler says, standing still but producing a folded slip of paper from behind his back. His eyes catch yours, deep as the ocean and set in quite the handsome face.

You snatch the note away and hold it close to your chest. Determined to read it once your guard has gone to escort the stranger out.

“Mr. Hansen will be back before you know it.”

“But I already know it,” you whisper in reply. Voice warbling across the words.

A warm hand lands on your shoulder, squeezing in sympathy. “You’ll be fine.”

You look to the hand, then the man to whom it’s attached, a slow and startled consideration. Your cheeks heat. His lips twitch toward an approximation of a comforting grin before he turns on his heel and marches after the man who fixed your bed.

Mr. Hansen sprawls across your sheets, shirt unbuttoned and groomed happy trail leading to the waistband of his trousers. Button popped open and a glimpse of his underwear visible. You lay tucked under his arm, fingers trailing over the planes of his abdomen and chest.

He hums in pleasure, the sound rumbling through you, pressed close as you are.

Eyes drifting closed, you’re nearly asleep when your handler says, “why don’t you pop up on my stache and give it a ride.”

Your thighs clench as a spike of desire rolls through you. It’s not a question, you know that. But you hesitate.

“Mr. Hansen,” you start, fingers walking up his chest. His chin dips to watch them. “I don’t want to hurt—”

Before you can finish, his hand wraps around yours and squeezes. “Fuckin’ smother me, lollipop.” He catches your eyes, blown dark with wanting. His tongue runs over his bottom lip and you shift in place, entranced by the movement.

Sitting up, your eyes remain locked. He drinks you in, thirsty for every movement. The way your head tilts as you pull your panties off your legs and toss them over the side of the bed. The way you shuffle forward on the bedding. The way your fists tug at the fabric of your dress, bunching it up your thighs.

He lifts a hand, an offering to guide you like a gentleman. One leg swings over, setting yourself astride him. Still slow, still cautious, you find your place over his face. His eyes blink slowly and he inhales.

“That’s what I love to see.”

You can’t bring yourself to look down at him, knowing his eyes will be sparkling with delight. The muscles of your legs twitch, itching to close and block him from the target of his desire.

“Look at this pretty thing.” His fingers brush over your folds and you jump. His teeth click in dissatisfaction. “Come on, sucker, keep her steady for me. I want a taste.”

His arms band around your thighs, coaxing you down. His hot breath puffs against you. Your teeth sink into your lower lip. Hands with nowhere to go, they wrap around his arms, hoping to keep yourself anchored to please him.

“Jesus, you’re dripping,” is the last thing you hear spoken under his breath before he starts.

He laps at you. Tongue flat to lick up the juices that coat the apex of your thighs. Your breath hitches, anticipation torture waiting for that first full swipe.

It comes with a long, sensuous lick. His tongue swirling around your clit and meandering through your folds toward your hole. He prods at it, mustache brushing against you in a tickling prickle.

On an exhale you whine and feel the reverberations from his responding chuckle. His biceps flex, dragging you closer and burying him between your thighs.

He devours as if you’re his last feast, reveling in each of the noises plucked from your throat. He flicks your clit and sucks. Your hips begin to move, undulations that grind you closer to him.

A muffled, “that’s it. That’s my candy slut,” comes from beneath you.

One arm releases your thigh. The fingers plunging into you and stretching you with a scissoring motion. You keen and try to lift away, but the strength of one arm keeps you planted. His moans shiver up your spine. Your teeth sink into your lip at the delicious tension gripping your muscles, tighter and tighter.

Flush with lust, you rock against your handler. This is your favorite part. Where you’re with him and you know you’re the one he craves. That in all his travels, across the world, right here is where he’s satisfied.

His fingers curl inside you, massaging that most sensitive place that makes your legs shake.

Your voice hums and sobs its pleasure. “I love you, Mr. Hansen.” The words burst out of you unprompted. Like this, there’s no memory of the violence he will commit for you. No memory of the collar around your throat. Just heat and sweat and fervor.

You shatter atop him, keening your ecstasy to the ceiling. Your fingers grip his head, body bowing over him and trapping him beneath you. You ride your bliss to the very last spark of pleasure. Delighting in the brush of his mustache and the final laps of his tongue.

Chest heaving for breath and legs weak, you use your arms to help push you up from your handler’s face. Coated in a sheen of your arousal, his lips part in an ecstatic grin.

“Fuck, sugar baby,” he moans, a hand reaching behind you to palm his cock through his pants and squeeze your ass. “Nearly got me creaming in my pants.” He huffs a few more breaths before his arm circles your waist and tugs on you.

With his strength and your cautious movements, it’s not long before he has you reversed. A plentiful view of your ass pointed right in his direction.

“Time to give your sweet little rosebud just as much loving,” he says, giving your cheek a hard smack.

You jolt forward, gripping at his muscles and biting back a needy whimper. Turning over your shoulder, you meet his eye. With one wink, he spreads your cheeks and begins his second helping. How his tongue can be as insatiable as the rest of his body, you don’t know. But you bend further over, supporting yourself with his body and giving him access to all of you.

A noise catches your ear. Taking your attention away from the delectable sensations enacted by your handler. Scanning the room, you see the figure in the doorway. Backlit by the hallway light, but still visible from the lighting in your room, you recognize your guard. Nick Fowler, piercing through you with his gaze.

Nick’s hand grips the doorknob tight before it slips off. Lloyd circles your already sensitive clit with his fingers. Your cheeks heat with embarrassment as your lips part on a wanton moan.

But you don’t look away—and he stares right back. A dark look of hunger in his eyes. You clench around nothing, feeling absolutely empty. A whine works its way up your throat. Nick swallows and lets his lips part.

You don’t move and neither does he. Lloyd none the wiser about the performance he’s putting on, the exhibition he’s making of you. Not that Nick can see anything. Your dress still covers your figure, only your missing panties allowing Lloyd access to your puckered hole and dripping cunt.

You gasp. Your handler fingering your ass, ready to stretch another hole open. Nick’s jaw ticks, fist clenched at his side. Never blinking, never looking away.

None of the others kept their eyes on you. Whenever Lloyd chose to display you, they always averted their gaze. Lloyd’s exhibitionism a power-play, exerting his control over his staff. Making them cower from him and hide their lust or envy or rage. Not Nick. He’s steady, unrepentant.

And doesn’t that set you alight. A titillating, tingling pleasure that shoots straight to your core and overwhelms.

Your breath catches in your throat, voice pitching higher and higher on each new moan. Eyelids fluttering, threatening to close, you keep them locked on the guard at your door. Even as you cum again, oversensitive and weak, shouting Lloyd’s name, you keep your eyes on Nick until he withdraws on swift, stilted steps.

“I have your breakfast.”

The guard leaves the tray at the foot of your bed. You watch him from the corner of your eye, Shadow sitting beside you. He leaves without a care—rookie mistake. And it’s eggs, too.

You sigh and tilt your head back on your neck. It’s not like you want him to get in trouble, but you absolutely cannot eat right now. Your stomach clenches and flips with nausea.

The smell of the food wafts toward you and you recoil. At least it spurs you to get up from your bed. You stand and saunter toward the French doors leading to your balcony.

Fresh air greets you. A cool breeze nipping at your skin. A quick jaunt back into your room finds the right blanket to bundle you up and keep you warm in the morning air. It nips at your cheeks and ears, but you watch the horizon. The soft sun rises in the distance splashing the sky in pastels. You wonder how warm it will be as it keeps on its path.

Thoughts drift on lazy tangents. A bird flits by. You watch it disappear around the corner of the mansion. You fix Shadow’s collar with a few small tugs until the tag hangs directly in the center of his chest.

“Off to the garden,” you bid him, using a finger to point over the balcony rail. Shadow woofs in reply, his stubby tail wagging vigorously. “Go,” you prompt in encouragement.

He darts away, out your door and mere moments later, he’s running through the grass.

You push yourself from the chair and lean against the railing. Watching your guard dog play. From a basket off to the side, you grab a ball—small and orange, one of Shadow’s. You finger it, turning it over and over in your grip. Preparing to shout his name, your lips part before you’re interrupted.

“You should eat.”

You spin on your heel like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “What do you mean?”

Nick stands beside your bed, hands crossed and head nodding toward the full tray of food.

“He’s the one that just left it there. They’re probably cold by now,” you say with a vague gesture of your hand.

“So he deserves what Lloyd will do to him?” Nick asks. He steps forward, hands falling to his sides. “He’s a good guy.”

This time, your head tilts. Contemplating the statement. The absurdity, the hypocrisy.

“Eat your damn food before I have to find another guy to replace him,” Nick commands, a pointed stab of his finger toward the tray. His jaw ticks in irritation, the frustration growing every second you don’t move.

“I’m not hungry,” you say, returning to the room and dropping the blanket on your chaise. Your lip curls at the smell as you approach. Your scheduled breakfast for the day—bacon, eggs, pancakes, orange juice. You swallow and turn away. “I’m not eating that.”

“Then is there something else you’d prefer?” His tacked on, “you goddamn brat,” at the end hidden under his breath.

“No,” you reply, stinging from his gibe. The bubbles of your own vexation start to roil in your stomach.

Nick turns away, jaw clenched and brow furrowed. His fingers twitch toward his holster, ready, you suppose, to point it at you in a threat. Your own anger cools. The lengths he will go to keep his men safe. Both of you knowing how exacting Lloyd can be—the consequences of his displeasure.

“I woke up nauseous,” you explain, voice soft, “I didn’t want to throw up.”

The tension seeps away from the set of Fowler’s jaw and shoulders. A slow loosening of his stance until he can look over at you again. And he pins you in place with his stare—hard on the surface with the shadow of something gentle beneath. That one look flooding you with a wave of contrition.

“It’s my fault for not saying something earlier. I’ll explain it to Lloyd,” you offer.

“No,” Nick says with a swift shake of his head, a step taken in your direction, “let me.”

You nod, hands folded before your waist. His heel lifts to take another step forward, but he turns instead, grabbing the breakfast and walking from the room.

Only a few minutes later, a new tray with a plate of saltine crackers and ginger beer arrive at your door. Carried by the same rookie as the first.

“Thank you,” you say, grasping the handles and taking it to your small table to nibble.

Your fingers tug at the pillow beneath your head. Hips canting up to meet Lloyd’s voracious tongue. Lips plump and tingling from how hard you’ve bitten them, keeping salacious moans at bay.

Lloyd’s eyes lock with yours from between your thighs. His brow furrows in frustration. Needing to hear your ruin dribble from you as you melt. You’re denying him and he won’t have it.

Smack. The slap to your thigh jolts you, a gasp finally pushing past your defenses. Your head lolls to the side, catching Lloyd’s eye again before, satisfied, he returns to your cunt. Knowing he’ll only fuck you when you’re a sloppy, soaked mess, you wrap a leg over his shoulder.

He groans against you, hand running along the skin of your thigh. His hips buck against the bed beneath him, easing the tension of his own arousal. His salacious display, rocking against the covers of your bed, smearing them with his precum, has a wisp of a moan slipping past your lips.

Until movement catches your eye. A glance to your ajar door sees Nick passing by, gaze locked forward and purpose to his steps. All your restraint frays to nothing. Lips gaping around sounds ripped from your chest.

“That’s more like it,” Lloyd chuckles against your sex, raising himself to his elbows and crawling over you.

You blink up at him and accept his kiss when he leans down. Your taste floods your mouth with his tongue. Tickled by his groomed mustache, it fills your nose. Your arms wrap around him, submitting to the filthy play of his kiss.

Yet at the very precipice of penetration, he becomes impatience at its finest. Lloyd lines himself up, thrusting into you in one swift stroke. You gasp and whimper against your handler’s lips and let your eyelids flutter shut.

In the darkness, your thoughts run wild without your permission. Lloyd’s hips burying his cock in you, and catapulting you toward fantasies of the stalwart, stoic guard and his unrelenting gaze. Your handler’s touch turns to Nick’s. His hands, his skin, his cock. And it feels too good to stop yourself.

You cry out on a particularly exquisite thrust and Lloyd pulls out, flipping you to your hands and knees. His head tucks against your neck, kissing along your throat. Caught up in your fantasy world, your head drops toward your chest on a low moan. Fists gripping the sheets beneath you.

“Please, more,” you pant. Feeling Nick’s hands grasping at your flesh and moulding your body to his.

“You like this, lolli?” Mr. Hansen asks, voice gritty and growling. “You should feel the way you’re squeezing me. Like you never wanna let go.”

Your head bobs in a nod, distracted by imaginings of what Nick would say, how he’d praise you, how he’d fuck you. The thought of him saying, “good girl,” has your arms buckling and your body falling to the bed, your hips supported by Lloyd’s strength. A constant humming moan rolls in your throat, filled to your limit by Lloyd’s cock and figments of Nick.

Your orgasm rushes over you like river rapids. A sudden flood of sensation breaking over your head and dragging you under.

But it all stops in an instant. Lloyd’s body still. His grip a harsh vice on your hips.

“What did you say?”

You swallow hard and blink your eyes open before turning over your shoulder, meeting Lloyd’s fiery gaze. Your stomach drops to your toes, throat suddenly dry. You can’t answer his question, you didn’t catch it yourself. Mouth run away with your thoughts…your thoughts.

Eyes widening, you say, “I don’t know, Mr. Hansen.” Hoping for some measure of pity.

“Nick,” he bites, “you called me Nick.” His hand wraps about your throat and drags you up against him. Right in your ear he whispers, “does that sound about right?” Teeth nipping against your ear, you squeak. But that doesn’t stop your handler. A sinister chuckle rising from his chest. “Nick fuckin’ Fowler.”

All at once, you’re free of him. Shoved into the bed as Lloyd stands at the foot. He takes one long, lingering look. Expression hard and unreadable. You reach out to him but he turns on his heel. Stalking out of the room, shoulders set, a predator after its prey.

#lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen fanfiction #dark #dark fic #kidnapping #tw kidnapping #yandere vibes #dub con #tw dub con #attic wives anonymous #18+#minors dni

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verdemint · 2 days

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thanks @racingmuppett for the incredible lore post about blue hair vale where vale is talking about being mesmerised by a cool blue hair (lesbian) girl in a movie and wanting to be just like her!

I've found the interview "Why did u dye your hair blue?"

Translation (I tried lol)

< I’ve dyed my hair blue … most importantly I’ve cut my hair short! I’ve cut my hair short because I’ve been wanting to cut it short for a year … and then it was a bet I had with two or three friends and we all cut our hair short.

Then dyeing it …it’s something you can do … it’s something a little bit crazy, funny. Also winning the world championship is not something that happens often, it happens a few times, so it was worth it!

And then why blue, why the colour blue … because I saw a movie, 'Nirvana', a while ago and there’s the girl, the main character, with all blue hair … and the hair was so nice.

So when I was watching the movie I told my mom: “I’m gonna dye my hair blue”

“I’m not gonna let you enter the house like that” *he’s imitating his mom joking*

Now that I’ve done it she didn’t say anything … because if I cut it now, it’s not gonna grow back blue forever anyway >

Naima (the hot lesbian the girl with blue hair) from the movie Nirvana

Vale 🤝 gender

#valentino rossi #vale lore #blue hair vale #vale being so so gender #young vale #vale being mesmerised by a cool hot girl #and wanting to be like her #lesbian vale

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lady-ashfade · 8 hours

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Eloise Bridgerton x reader! In which Eloise and the reader are friends and Eloise romantically likes the reader but is afraid to confess because she thinks she will be rejected (the reader likes her too, and sorry about the bad english, i'm using the translator 🥺)

Quite Telling

Eloise Bridgerton x Fem!reader

╰･ﾟ✧☽ words: 487

╰･ﾟ✧☽ warnings: fluff and bit angst, pinning, short blurb.

-`｡ﾟ˘: ﾟ⋆ ––✷☽ ᱬ ☽✷––⋆ ﾟ: ˘ ﾟ｡.`-

Book’s often portray love as butterflies in your stomach, flattering body that gets weak when you see someone, and a high feeling. Eloise hated the books about love because she didn’t care for it, thinking it was all a lie.

And now she wished she read more.

How was she supposed to get over her feelings of being near you, or seeing your smile or hearing your laugh. The pain she felt from holding herself back from the urge to kissing you was horrible. All she could ever think about was you and she was becoming crazy.

“Dear, are you alright?” Violet asked her daughter who was lost in her thoughts, standing still at the window as rain poured down on the ground. Eloise snapped out of it and grabbed the book that was now in her lap back up and gave a reassuring smile.

“No need to worry, it’s just a beautiful day.” A mother knows much about her children and violet knew her daughter well. Eloise was often to push away when she was going through things. But she could push her to talk about it, so she just smiled and nodded her head.

Just as the sun rises and breakfast was done, the routine of visiting you for morning walks was the thing that woke her up. Her head went fussy when you grabbed ahold of her arm and her heart spiked like crazy.

“There isn’t much my mama has been telling me lately. Each gentleman walking up to door is all the same and non have half the wits they think themselves to have.” rolling your eyes annoyingly, Eloise laughs at your remark.

“Thank the heavens I have no callers, the one thing whistledown gave me was keeping them away.” you glance at her, there was still spite in her voice.

“It’s their lose anyway, you’re a Bridgerton. Pretty and smart sounds like a amazing catch.” you giggle. her cheeks flush red and look away at the compliment you gave her.

Pretty? You think she’s pretty and smart.

“Might I ask you something?” Her mouth speaks on its own before she could stop herself. you humming in agreement and focus on the ground as you walk. ears ready to hear.

could you ever love her? the lump in her throat tighten as her stomach dropped. all she wanted to do was confess or give you a hint. why was it so hard? she shouldn’t be afraid of it. but looking at you and the way the sun cased it’s golden light on you, the beautiful smile on your lips. she couldn’t find the courage.

“Purple?” the excuse didn’t work out as she wanted. you turn your head in confusion to what she meant.

she was a fool. “Purple or Blue? A dress for me tonight.”

“Purple, I like that color on you.”

then she shall wear it for the rest of her days.

𐀔 please don’t repost my fics on other websites. This is my writing. And I don’t own the characters just y/n.

#Eloise Bridgerton x reader #Eloise Bridgerton x fem!reader #Bridgerton x reader #x fem!reader #Eloise Bridgerton blurb #Eloise Bridgerton imagine #Eloise Bridgerton #blurb #short blurb #Bridgerton x fem!reader #bridgerton

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httpsleely · 12 hours

Text

HQ BOYS AS YOUR S/O—WHAT I IMAGINE THEIR INSTAGRAM WOULD BE LIKE

synopsis. hq! boys using instagram but they're down bad for you

ft. hinata shoyo, tsukishima kei, suna rintarou, kenma kozume

others. character! is aged up, they're in college, uni au

notes. idk i feel like this could be better but I'm too lazy to be bothered. this is just a silly little thought while i was drinking tea 😌

HINATA SHOYO would post you a lot. He definitely has you on his profile picture; either it's your solo picture or a picture of you and him. His posts would only consist of four things: you, volleyball, his friend's, and himself (occasionally)—but there's more pictures of you in it than the three mentioned. His fans teases him and says that his account basically turned into a fan page of you. His bio would be in between something so sweet or so cheesy. He'll probably have a corny quote.

“Romance is icing, but the love is the cake—@your_username”

“my love: @your_username”

“My sunshine forever & always @your_username”

TSUKISHIMA KEI rarely posts you. It's not that he doesn't want to, it's just that. . . He likes having his privacy with you. but when he does post you, his fans go berserk. It's a rare opportunity for him to post you (I strongly believe he'd post you in special occasions; like anniversaries, special holidays (if you celebrate), or winning his games), so of course, everyone will have a field day about it. And when he posts you it's not just a simple picture, he'd have a full on note for you.

“Thank you @your_username for everything you do for me—for all the support you give me whether it may be coming to my games, cooking me good food, saying the exact words I need to hear, or even simply just your presence by my side. Thank you for being with me through everything. This 3rd year anniversary won't definitely be the last anniversary we'll celebrate—so here's to more love that I'll give you, pipsqueak. I love you always.”

SUNA RINTAROU post you way too much. He'd have at least five highlights about you; one for his favorite pictures of you, one for him and you, one for your unflattering pictures, one for very special occasions that he's with you, and one for videos he took of you. And he doesn't just post you on his stories, he also has tons of pictures of you on his main post. If hinata has three things he post, well, suna only has you on his instagram. People often mistake his account for your account because of how much pictures you have in it.

“Café hopping with @your_username”

“She said that I should post this picture of her @your_username”

“Idk who this person is, do you? @your_username?” (*but his post is literally you)

KENMA KOZUME posts (sometimes) whenever he feels like it. he just generally doesn't post a lot. But he posts about you on random occasions. mostly post dumps about you, like what he did in a month with you. Or simply just random pictures of you (some unflattering and some aesthetically pleasing). And he posts with no caption, just you and your @. his fans are basically dehydrated from pictures of the two of you, so they also have a field day whenever he post about you. I'm pretty sure it'd even go trending on twt (x) at least once or twice.

“🤍 @your_username”

“out & about w/ @your_username”

“ily @your_username”

#✧.*· hq¡#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #hinata shoyo #hinata shoyo x reader #tsukishima kei #tsukishima kei x reader #suna rintarou #suna rintaro x reader #kozume kenma #kenma kozume #kenma kozume x reader

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fleetingcalypso · 21 hours

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Hello love! i'm absolutely enraptured by your writing. If i could, i'd love to request a Henry Winter x Reader enemies to lovers? Like an absolutely cut-throat academic rivalry that culminates in a dramatic fight and reconciliation at Francis' house? Thank you!

≋ Sometimes attraction blossoms even in the most hostile of places. I'm sure having Henry's life could only benefit from having a rival, turning his world upside down, keeping him on his toes. This is one of my longest works yet, also one I'm not too keen on, nonetheless I pray it captures your interest.

≋ Henry Winter x GN!Reader ≋

≋ Word Count: 4582 words.

≋ TW: mentions of dr*gs, consumption of alcohol, violence (Henry receives a slap in a moment of ire), Edmund "Bunny" Corcoran.

I remember when I initially stepped foot in Julian’s office: most of the words he spoke are lost in time but one thing is forever stitched in the fabric of my memory, he patted me on the shoulder as an affectionate mentor would and with an award winning smile he said, “You’ll fit right in.” It made me feel validated at the time, like I had a place in the world, a bird fallen out of its nest reunited with its family at last. He wasted no seconds in telling me how he would usually limit his students to the odd number of only five, but he could tell there was something about the way I carried myself that would not disturb the peaceful routine he had meticulously crafted.

Classes with Julian were anything but peaceful, to my displeasure, not because of him, not at all. He was a splendid instructor, I often found myself on the edge of my seat with each one of his words. With no surprise, I was not the only one placing him on a crystal pedestal.

One single man made each class feel as though I was being tortured by demons, poked by sharp pointy tails. Each of my comments was brushed off, deemed useless and void of meaning, each paragraph, line, even a single word I read was followed by a deep voice interrupting me and correcting my pronunciation with great emphasis. Thankfully, I had found friends as well, other than a snake spiraling around my ankle, threatening to consume me whole.

The root of all of my headaches, as much as I’d love to strip him of his name, is called Henry Winter.

It’s not to say that I’d let him walk all over me. On more than one occasion, I was victorious after our heated discussions about the accuracy of a translated text or if we were to choose one of the five Greek cases over another. Following each argument his jaw would clench and he’d let out a curt “Very well, then,” before turning his head away and acting as if nothing had happened, although I could without fail notice the tension in his body. It was rather easy, for some unknown reason we’d always find ourselves sitting next to each other, so close our knees touched.

“Henry, is there anything you’re unable to do?” One day I asked him, in Julian’s momentary absence, the question felt only natural to pose: with his expertise in various languages and his familiarity with the world in Ancient Greece being so fascinating. The taunting tone in my voice caught the attention of not only my interlocutor, but the rest of our classmates as well. Six pairs of eyes were fixed on me, some looking more amused than others. His response came only after Bunny elbowed him, egging him on, “Ensuring you will not plague my days, apparently,” he said, pushing his glasses further up his nose. The venom he spat failed to enter my system, nonetheless it makes my gaze narrow.

“You always know what to say.” It’s not a question this time, but an observation which he rewarded with a “Of course I do. Lack of words is for the uncultured.” Our interaction was cut short due to Julian returning, but that would not be the end of it.

That very same day, after our lesson was over we all stood to leave, his hand found the spot on the small of my back as he walked past me, as if it belonged there by birthright. Sometimes I still feel it, the memory creeps up on me in the middle of the night, it keeps me awake whilst making me want more and more of him, like a cruel, vicious, thrilling drug I am unable to have a sober day from.

Class wasn’t the only occasion of the day where we would have contrasting thoughts: once, it happened during a morning when all seven of us sat in the library, open books and notebooks scattered all over our table, “This is going nowhere,” groaned Charles pushing the wrinkled paper he was writing onto towards my direction, “Take a look at this. What do you think?”

It stroked my ego that he chose my opinion over Henry’s and by a flying glance I noticed a slight surprised glint in his blue eyes, though he was quick to conceal it by focusing onto the fountain pan in his hand. I wasn’t the only one surprised by our friend’s choice in who should aid him in his translation.

After a short look, the mistake was clear, “Ah, here it is. Your writing is not inherently wrong, ‘Who dares think one thing, and another tell, my heart detests him as the gates of hell,’ while it is correct, it could be worded in a different way, try: ‘For hateful to me as the gates of Hādēs is that man who hides one thought in his mind, but speaks another.’ That should flow better.” Just to be certain - and perhaps to bother him just a small amount - I turned to Henry, “Shouldn’t it?” He didn’t move for a second before humming and nodding, although I might have overheard him whisper “You’re doing too much,” under his breath. When I handed the paper back to its owner I could spot Francis with his hand over his lips, trying to mask a grin, obviously amused by my exchange with our friend.

The amount of times we’ve debated over the littlest of things, it would take all the stars in the universe to count, and it still would not be enough.

“You’re slow today.” He whispered to me one day, when I hadn’t jumped at the opportunity to answer one of Julian’s queries about the Iliad, his breath tickled my ear and sent goosebumps down the back of my neck. It's true, I was slow. Henry's cologne for some insane reason was all I could think about: his closeness to me, as much as it was far by greatly affecting my attention, it certainly was reluctantly occupying a part of my mind. “Have you considered that not every thought should be spoken out loud?” I argued, the left corner of his lips lifted into a crooked half smile, “Interesting. You could benefit from your own advice.” He said, and it ended there. It left me with something I can’t quite recognize.

Ultimately, every day turned into a competition: petty, small things that held my heart hostage, like who was the first to enter Julian’s office at the beginning of the day, who turned in an essay the fastest, whose penmanship was more aesthetically pleasing and whose comments in class were rewarded with more praise.

Another episode in which I thought our rivalry was set in stone, from the very moment he laid eyes on me, happened during a quiet Wednesday, and we were enjoying a delicious lunch at the twins’ place. Camilla had cooked lamb chops, the rest of us had brought refreshments and some side dishes. Henry got a hold of my chair before I could grab it, he pulled it out for me then took a seat in the chair furthest away from mine.

In the middle of our meal, as I was diving in for seconds, Bunny interrupted the calm atmosphere that had formed by being his usual exasperating self and kicking my leg from under the table, “You know,” He began waving his fork in my direction, with his lips still dirty with food, “I’ve always wondered, whenever you look at Julian with stars in your eyes, is it because you truly care about what he has to say, or is it because you’re trying to suck up to him and get easy marks by being a teacher’s pet? He’s too old for you, you know?” From the seat next to me I swear I could hear Charles choke on his food, Richard’s jaw fell open, Francis looked positively disgusted, Camilla -poor soul- pushed her plate away, as the mental image of me being in love with our professor was plastered into her unwilling mind. The only one with no visible reaction was Henry.

“That’s what I thought as well, at first,” He noted, dabbing his lips with his napkin, “Class with Julian is not a slice of bread even the dirty pigeons on the sidewalk can stumble upon. It is only a matter of time before you realize what blessing you’ve found.” He was a master of masking a mocking undertone in his voice, along with an air of superiority which implied that the one thing he was waiting for was for me to blow up, to storm away, pack my stuff and leave Vermont for good.

“Don’t you think assuming my inability to follow lessons with the rest of you is an insult to Julian’s ability to tell whether someone is worth his time or not? If I were him I’d be quite offended, if I can say so.”

The glare he shot at me, with his blue eyes piercing through his glasses, was enough for me to know I had won; the way he was gripping his fork, his knuckles white as ever, let me know that this was not only a win, this was one of his battleships sinking. This was war, as far as I was concerned, it could only end either with an impossible truce or until one of us was dead in a ditch.

Not wanting to entirely ruin lunch, Francis was the one to change the subject. What he said I do not remember, as I was too busy basking in my own subtle victory to pay attention, but it did work and Henry made no further jabs at me that day. The same cannot be said for Bunny, who seemed to find it exhilarating that I would stand up to Henry the way I did and spent the rest of the day testing my patience.

Since that day, life has been notably bloodless between me and the human thorn in my side, with the occasional exception. I’ve come to notice that, when he is not wasting his time trying his best to get on my nerves, he passes as a truly handsome man. It might be something about the sheer size of him, or it could very well be the way he looks at me,his gaze permanently deeper than the ocean itself, as well as his hands, veiny and large, yet rarely rough in movements. I’m ashamed to admit I’ve spent far too many instants passing glimpses at his fingers, as they slide along the pages of books.

If I have to stand in front of a jury of Gods, though, and speak my naked truth - with no censors - I’d probably reveal that what is so fascinating about Henry is the way he is a bottomless well of knowledge about Ancient Greece. He is devoted to it, as he is devoted to Julian and in some sick twisted way I can’t help but find that veneration attractive.

Against my better judgment, I find myself missing our banter more than anything. The way he stared me down used to give me goosebumps, it still does when my eyelids close and I imagine it.

Summer comes faster than I imagine, faster than lightning striking the Earth, and in the blink of an eye I find myself at Francis’s aunt’s house. All of us fell into a comfortable rhythm while residing here, it was a breath of fresh air compared to our daily life. Playing the piano, reading in the vast library, excursions out to the lake, we kept ourselves busy, enjoying the countryside, keeping what -at the time- felt like the biggest secret of our lives from Richard.

At my awakening I was delighted in discovering everyone else was still deep in sleep. I took it as permission to make some breakfast. I had placed two cups of coffee on the table when he made his way into the kitchen, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and not a single sight of his usual exhaustion on his face. Morning sunlight shines onto his skin, giving it a warm glow, he looks positively saintlike. An archangel descending from the heavens, waiting to be welcomed to my mass, just to notify me that the end is coming sooner than I expect. “I made coffee.” I said, setting a cup in front of him. He looked at it for a moment, just for a moment, before his doubt shrouded eyes met mine, “I have a feeling you’ve poisoned this.” As he was debating whether to accept my offer, Charles joined us. He accepted a cup without a moment’s hesitation, downed it while throwing his head back, then walked off to God knows where, not like I care much.

Henry took a sip only after witnessing that it was indeed safe to do so, I did as well. As the hot liquid met his taste buds I could see him regret he ever came into the kitchen. It was coffee, yes, although unlike my cup which had sugar at the bottom of it, the one he was drinking from had salt in it. A smile tugged at my lips, “Good morning,” I said watching his face scrunch up and force himself to not spit out what was in his mouth. A puzzled look possesses my face as he doesn’t look away from my eyes, not for one second, his eyebrows scrunch while he doesn’t spill a drop of salted coffee, it all slides down his throat. “Good morning.” He replies, coldly, tongue sliding over his bottom lip.

By the time everyone had come to have breakfast, whether it was a glass of wine, whiskey or any drink of their choice, Henry hadn’t moved. With him following my every move, it felt only natural to imagine he’d be scheming something, and my hypothesis would soon reveal itself to ring true, leaving me like a sailor at sea, in the middle of an impenetrable storm.

The sun burns high in the sky, then it slowly melts into the sea, showering the world in tones of red, gold and purple; we spent dawn-to-dark in nature, feeling the blades of grass under our feet, taking turns sitting on a boat floating down the lake and resting by the shadows of the trees with books in our lap, the seraphic nature of the day could have been immortalized in a painting by Michelangelo himself, but no amount of expertise with the brush would be able to capture the unmitigated calm that reigned.

Such a glorious day deserves to have an equally splendid ending, suggested Francis once we retired back to the house. Bottles were hastily opened, alcohol floating in glasses and finding a home between thirsty lips. Inebriation wasted no time in letting inhibitions be on the loose. One small insignificant disagreement accounted as an act of hypothetical insubordination broke into an altercation between me and my nemesis. It went on forever, such an interminable occasion that our friends abandoned us in the kitchen and went on to enjoy their drinks in the library.

“I don’t think you should be here,” His vicious words didn’t faze me at that point, the knowledge that in his idea of a perfect world I was nowhere to be found wasn’t lost on me, “You should get in your car and drive far, far away from where my eye can’t reach.” The first two buttons of his shirt were nonchalantly unbuttoned distracting me for just a moment, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat with each sound caught my attention.

“Careful my friend,” I answered, fingers growing cold from the cool glass in my hand, being gripped with an unusual stability given the wine floating in my system, his face twitched at my name for him, “It almost sounds like my very existence bothers you more than one could imagine.”

“It does. Bother me, it is. It bothers me greatly. I don’t think you should be here” He repeats. As magnanimous as I am, I am no martyr. My glass hits the table with a thud, bright red splashes onto the tablecloth as I raise my voice louder than I would like, “What the fuck is your problem?!” Never in my life had I met a human as frustrating as him, “I can’t imagine I’ve done much to you the first day I sat in that office, yet, you’ve been nothing but unkind towards me.”

“What is my problem?!” He pushes himself to his feet, his voice loud to match mine, “You are my problem! You’re always having something to prove, buzzing about like a working insect devoted to the queen bee, it’s exhausting to even have you sit next to me.” I’m tempted to spill my drink in his face, what a sight it would be: savory red drops slipping down his glasses and hair, wetting his cheeks and jaw until it reached his lip. Instead of that I just shove him, resulting in him stumbling a step backwards, clearly not expecting the mouse to fight back against the owl trying to catch it.

“Have you ever even glimpsed in a mirror?! You act as if you’re so all-mighty, like the rest of the world is merely ants under your shoe! It’s nerve wracking when you find someone you can’t step all over isn't it? How does it feel to have found the one person in the world that does not bow down to you?” He enrages me, in all truth. I can’t bring myself to understand why it is, that now of all times, he makes my blood boil, in more ways than one, “Does it turn your stomach upside down? Is it the only thing you can think about?”

His chest moved for just a single, shaky breath and by now I knew I was playing with fire. If I got burned by touching the sun, at the very least it means I flew high enough to touch it. My hands moved again, ready to push him once again however just a breath before my lips could part to berate him even more his hands caught my wrists.

“You’re a parasite.” He hisses, lowering his face close to mine, by my reflection in the lenses of his glasses it is plain to see his choice of words leaves a mark, not on my face as a slap would, but on my emotions, “You’re a tiny, disgusting, parasite. You’ve single handedly infiltrated yourself in my modus operandi and I am just waiting for the moment I can finally take a moment to breathe again. Since the day you’ve set foot in that office I have, not once, had a chance to relax.” My body reacts before I can allow it to do so, the red handprint forming on his right cheek and his glasses being askew -almost on the brink of falling- confirm that I did, indeed, strike him in a fit of rage. How I was able to free one of my limbs from his death grip I do not know, adrenaline does some wonderful miracles.

“If I’m a parasite,” My voice comes out in a low growl, “Then you best pay attention I don’t end up killing you.” The more I stand in his presence, in this kitchen, having our chests rising in synch with the slowest breaths we have ever taken, I recognize just how much we latch onto each other, how we’ve stitched our existence together with an obsidian thread the very first time we sat with our knees grazing.

“You’ll be the death of me.” He admits in a whisper I can barely hear. Had our faces not been as close as they are, I’d probably would have thought he’d been mouthing nonsense. One second he’s all I can see, with his monumental figure blocking everything else, the next he’s walking away from me, his glass of wine sits on the tablecloth, still full, untouched.

Now I know how Pandora felt as she unintentionally let the vase she was gifted almost grow empty, now I could describe in meticulous detail what a bee feels after its first and final sting.

I do not join my friends in their gathering. My chest aches with something unfamiliar, comfort certainly won’t be known for as long as I find myself anywhere near Henry Winter.

The moon has reached its place in the sky by barely an hour now, a pearl glistening onto a fabric of pure pitch-black, tiny crystals surrounding it, making sure it will never be alone forever and ever. I’ve never seen a tapestry as breathtaking as the one mirroring on the calm surface of the lake I’m strolling by to gather my thoughts. Henry is somewhat right, deep inside of me I can feel it, I’ll be the death of him one way or another. He’s the king, guiding his troops and his courtesans from the comfortable seat of an opulent throne and I’m an approaching invasion, inevitable and threatening destruction for the kingdom he has built from nothing, rooted in the deepest of sins: pride. Hubris seems to get the better of us both with each breath we take.

My anger had settled in the brief sixty minutes I’ve spent admiring the darkness, by myself. Some fireflies with their microscopic body attempt to irradiate the entire lakeside with light, oblivious to their size or the impossibility of their mission.

Tirelessly I recount my life at Hampden, every single moment I can recall gets forced under scrutiny: “You’ll fit right in,” Julian had told me, in his eyes there lived a conviction I’ve noticed only during his enthralling lessons. I’ve only ever known him to speak the holy truth, doubting feels like going against everything I’ve ever known. In my solitude I find contentment, time flows steadily, mimicking a river in which nymphs could find respite.

“So this is where you were hiding.” A deep voice rises among the chirping of crickets, “We couldn’t find you at the house.” And just like that the incantation I’d fashioned myself in dissolves in the cool night air, joining the fireflies in their dance to please the stars and the moon. I hear him before I see him. A colorless shadow approaches me, in an impossibly inky abyss of nature, it can only be him; out of all our friends he’s the only one that can tell what bizarre chemical reactions my brain produces, he’s the only one that can read my thoughts like they were the very first lines of the Iliad, because more often than not he’s thinking the exact same thing.

‘The wrath of Peleus' son, the direful spring Of all the Grecian woes, O Goddess, sing.’ I recite in my mind as the barely human shadow only gets closer and closer, ‘That wrath which hurled to Pluto's gloomy reign the souls of mighty chiefs untimely slain, whose limbs, unburied on the naked shore,’ his footsteps stop behind me, he wants to speak as do I, but neither dare utter a sound, ‘Devouring dogs and hungry vultures tore: Since great Achilles and Atrides strove, such was the sovereign doom, and such the will of Jove!’

Unconsciously I found more satisfaction in rehearsing the words out loud, “Declare, O Muse. In what ill-fated hour, sprung the fierce strife, from what offended power?” And of course, he continued them effortlessly: “Latona's son a dire contagion spread, and heaped the camp with mountains of the dead; The king of men his reverend priest defied, and, for the king's offence, the people died.” We will never stop trying to compete with each other, it is a losing battle: it’s asking the moon to stop being the unmatchable muse for romance poems, it’s asking the cosmos and all of its constellations to disappear.

“You’re not always honest,” I mumbled, disregarding if he’d consider me weak or frail, ignoring the way I could feel him burn a hole in the back of my head, “Tonight you were what I think is the most honest you’ve been in a long time.” He’s my tormentor just as much as I am his.

His knee grazes against mine in the instant he finds a seat on the grass, next to me. His lingering accidental touch takes a hold of me, it’s addictive. “You are a parasite.” He insists and for a moment I think we’re about to raise our voices at each other again, but then he continues with a softer voice, “You’ve latched into my mind, consuming every corner of my life and I am defenseless to it.”

“What do you mean?”

I can’t perfectly see his face in the moonlight, but if he is by any means like me as I know he is, I can consider correct the hypothesis of his pupils being dilated enough to swallow me whole. He drinks me in, like the salty cup of coffee I offered him, he doesn't leave anything behind, doesn’t waste a drop.

“You’re in possession of a great intellect. For a second in your life, put aside the countless feuds we were active participants in and figure it out. You’re hurling me into unwanted and unknown territory.” I know what he means. He could speak every language in the world and I’d still know what each word signifies, in its deepest meaning. It baffles me that he is able to discern my brilliance. He’d never lauded me so. There’s a first for everything, it seems.

“I am not a threat to your leadership, I’m not trying to be.”

He laughs at my words, to my surprise: dry and void of humor, “It’s not my leadership that’s compromised. It’s my heart and mind. While at first I found our game bothersome and quite frankly childish, I’ve unearthed a yearning for it, so influential on my being that I find myself hopelessly wishing you’d dismiss yourself from my life, with the result that I might go back to when you were not the only thing inhabiting my thoughts.”

“I won’t deny I’ve allowed myself to feel the same.” In the dim lighting we sit, I’m appreciative my confession will be the only truly limpid particle of me, I’m not ready for him to see me as I am, not yet, “I yearn for our arguments, for the furrow in your brow and your disapproving stare with each of our disagreements, most of all I yearn for your stimulating presence. Henry, you’re quite the character.”

“So are you. Impossibly infuriating, and delightfully of the essence for me.”

Our friends are waiting for us, I’m acutely aware of it, nonetheless I find myself giving into selfishness for tonight. It is a long way to go, for us two to build a bridge, but with one brick at a time perhaps it is not only a bridge we can erect, but a whole kingdom, with two thrones instead of a solitary one and no invasion to knock at its doors. If his hand slips on top of mine I pretend I do not notice, just like he doesn’t mention my head resting itself on his shoulder. The lake has never looked better, with a bright spotlight shining onto the calm surface, ripped out the pages of a fairytale. Maybe with enough time and effort the fireflies will be able to shine as bright as the moon.

#fleetingcalypso #calypsodaydreams #henry winter x reader #henry winter #the secret history #the secret history x reader #tsh donna tartt #dark academia #reader insert #writing

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djmorn · 2 days

Text

The Infernal Bathhouse

or: Wing Care Part 3

word count: 4,825

rating: mature

Raphael x Warlock!Reader (GN)

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to my good friend and amazingly talented writer @adevilyoudo. Writing can be a lonesome hobby and it is truly wonderful to have someone along for the ride, talking about the craft, supporting each other, and throwing ideas around, be they serious or humorous. Thanks for all your help and friendship, I hope you enjoy this.

And with that ladies and gentlemen, I present to you: Stink Spirit Raphael.

It was a long run up the staircase which led to the colossal building. Upon ascending the final steps you made a halt – first and foremost to catch your breath then take a moment and marvel at the incredible architectural sight towering before you: Tall pillars of marble fronted the infernal bathhouse, the stone untouched by any mark of the Blood War, and yet it still cast forth an aura of ancient history. You read the inscription above the entrance. The Infernal translated to ‘Ataxia Averna’. High up on top of the building a blood-red banner waved in the wind, proudly displaying the same words in golden lettering. Why would Raphael send you here?

His letter had been even more obscure than the last one. Apparently you were to meet your next contract in this place which you thought an odd location to confront one of his debtors to say the least, and with such little information given to boot. At least Raphael had been gracious enough to mention that the bathhouse’s kindly proprietor would point you in the right direction. So all there was left to do was simply have faith in your patron supplying this stranger with further – hopefully helpful details… Fantastic.

You let out a sigh. Trusting Raphael to not be unnecessarily dramatic and mysterious? This assignment was off to a good start.

Approaching the entrance you noticed it was neither guarded nor protected by some kind of magic keeping any possible unwanted guests at bay. How strange.

With faith in your knowledge of warding spells and perhaps a dangerous dose of curiosity, you stepped inside the infernal establishment and were immediately greeted by an overwhelming assault to the senses: Steam clouded the grand hall making your eyes grow watery, relentlessly the mist rose from pools built in the crimson marble floor. These baths came in every shape and size with an especially enormous one at the center, and each of them occupied by various kinds of fiends. You saw demons and devils, orthons, hags and abishais, all lounging in the waters, seeming oddly at peace with one another. Some of them treated themselves to exotic fruits on plates of gold, carried about the hall by faithful lemures. And all about was that pungent smell of sulphur, perverted by scented oils impossible to make out in detail amidst this madness. But even in your astonishment at this bizarre scene you could not help but wonder at this peculiar display of truce, and in Avernus at that!

Your eyes wandered from the pillars high up to the ceiling. Here the marble lightened, giving room to a gorgeous painting adorning its stone. Yes, gorgeous it was. Gorgeous and gruesome. In the finest detail the artist had depicted a battle scene of the Blood War, still raging everywhere but here apparently. Squinting your eyes you could make out the many intricacies of this mirror to the scene below it, frozen in time and oil: Its protagonists wallowed in pools of blood, some of them screaming, suffering a horrible death, others basked in the glory of their victims’ demise and the carnage. Imps circled the sky like vultures. You raised a brow as you surveyed the scene. You had to admit that the artist had a funny sense of humour, and for a moment you wondered what fate might have befallen them.

To your left someone cleared their throat and drew you out of your musings and your attention towards the sound’s source. Behind a long desk sat a succubus, as beautiful as only sin could be and blessed with that tempting air of authority akin to the most convincing players spawned in the Nine. Above her loomed a comically large window, opened to let the steam escape, granting her lobby at least some kind of clear view. Flanking the desk stood two nupperibos which were armed with fans to help guide the mist away from their mistress, and above three nasty looking imps fluttered about, their cruel glowing eyes seemingly assessing the newcomer. They started pointing and snickering.

As soon as the succubus noticed your eyes on her she shot you a wink, with one clawed forefinger beckoning you to approach. You followed her bid without hesitation.

‘My, my, what do we have here?’ she chirped as you came closer. ‘It’s not everyday we get a visit from a mortal to this humble establishment.’

‘Nothing humble about it,’ you gave back confidently, putting on the charm. ‘It is a shame I am here on business.’

Your eyes went to a sign on the desk. The Infernal spelled out the name ‘Circe’, identifying the she-devil before you. Circe eyed you up and down.

‘You must be his warlock.’

She smiled as you introduced yourself, taking a drag from the long, thin pipe made of gold held in her right hand. The smoke’s smell seemed to pierce the steam-filled air.

‘Then Raphael told you. That’s a relief at least.’

‘Hmm, yes,’ Circe mused. ‘He likes his cryptic little antics, my favourite cambion.’ A chuckle escaped her lips and turned to laughter like embers become flame under a dragon’s maw. The imps above joined in their mistress’s glee, likely unaware of the joke, posturing serving nothing but approval. Circe’s laughter ceased at once and she shot them a stern look.

‘Shut up,’ she barked and the tiny fiends put their hands over their mouths and scattered behind her obediently. Circe directed her attention back to you. ‘Never mind the imps, nor any other fiend in this place for that matter. You are my guest of honour and no harm shall befall Raphael’s darling warlock.’ Another roguish wink.

‘Right,’ you said, not quite sure what to make of the shrewd temptress. ‘Thank you. I was instructed to ask you for further details concerning my target.’

She huffed and puffed more smoke. ‘You warlocks are all the same: All business, no fun. So who of my guests is it then? Which loyal, paying customer am I to loose to that perfumed trickster?’

‘Um…’ You shifted your legs about, suddenly horribly embarrassed about knowing so little of your target, and avoiding eye contact with Circe at all cost your gaze wandered off to the side, locking onto that of the nupperibo. Staring into its beady, empty eyes you wondered if yours currently reflected the same ignorance.

Then Circe’s laughter pulled you out of your dissociation. ‘Oh, come on, I’m only messing with you,’ she said, waving off the smoke directly into an imp’s face. The succubus ignored its coughing. ‘Poor thing, I know your patron’s been vague with you. You will find your target in a private room on the first floor, the one at the very end. Inside is a supreme balcony looking down the great hall which you can survey from an exquisite bath, yours to enjoy once your work’s done. On the house, sweetheart, and don’t you worry…’ She leaned in closer, the flames dancing in her eyes seemingly burning right into your soul. ‘No devil will disturb you up there. Around here we still value the meaning of the word “privacy”.’

And with that Circe directed you towards the staircase.

You took your time to look at the bathhouse’s pools and the hell-folk that were its guests. Some of them were engaged in eager chatter while indulging in the heat of the water, going over deals and contracts made in the mortal realm.

‘Now, that ambitious princess of yours is a fool to have agreed to this,’ you overheard a massive orthon say to a red devil seated next to him.

‘Be that as it may,’ the other gave back. ‘Her soul will make a most delicious meal one way or the other.’

‘Wanna bet a soul coin on it?’

‘Make it three.’

As they laughed your attention drifted to another pair. These two had placed a game of lanceboard on the bank between them, pondering their moves while a party of onlookers drifted around, enjoying this extra bit of entertainment adding to their indulgence. Some of them began to whisper to each other as you walked by. Hells, never in your whole life would you have imagined to one day walk around a steaming bathhouse filled with devils, quietly judging you, but all of them surprisingly peaceful and blissfully naked.

Three hags were taking a break from wallowing in the pools and – towels swung around their dripping bodies – currently enthralled with a peculiar game, its dice a shape which you had never seen before. You halted, taking a closer look.

‘A twenty, ha!’ one of them bellowed while her playmates regarded the boastful winner with grim faces. ‘Suck it, ye cunts.’

‘I vote to never invite you to play with us ever again. Maybe we should start looking for a replacement.’

‘Hey, how about this one?’

You froze up as the hook-nosed hag pointed her finger at you.

‘Yes, they look a righteous little no-cheat, and if they loose we’ll feast on their marrow, ha ha ha. What do you say to that, dearie?’

‘I am flattered,’ you said. ‘Afraid I have no time though. Got an invitation up there,’ and you gestured towards the staircase.

‘Ohoho, proper high and mighty thing, aren’t we, tiny, tasty warlock? Must belong to quite the powerful fiend, hmm?’

‘Yes,’ the twenty-dice hag agreed. ‘Well, petal, tell us: Who is it then?’

‘Raphael the cambion.’

‘Ugh.’ The hook-nosed hag let out a snarky snort, waving her hand dismissively, her interest in your companionship or your marrow gone up in cold smoke. ‘Well, you go on and be a good little fuck then.’

‘Aye, choose a better patron in the next life, sweetie.’

‘Hush now. Can’t let you two ruin my winning streak.’

Without another word you left the group to their game, thinking you quite agreed with twenty-dice hag: What a bunch of horrible, old cunts.

Finally you made your way up the staircase Circe had directed you towards. Its banisters were decorated with ornamental sculptures: Imps leering at you like gargoyles and busts of important looking devils silently making an assessment of you through their blind alabaster eyes. Reaching the first floor you saw just how strong the bathhouse was built. The stone could easily host even more pools up here although they were quite smaller than the ones below, more private, resulting in a less crowded and more tranquil experience.

Not wanting to waste any time here too you approached the room at the end of the hallway, its doors closed shut. This must be the suite! Here you were, quite a way off from any curious onlookers, ideal conditions to not disrupt the peace.

Softly you twisted the knob, peeking inside you saw nobody, and with quiet steps you entered, closing the door behind you. There was that luxurious bath Circe had described all right, and indeed it reached out over the balcony, offering a soothing time within the interior of the private suite as well as a nice view over the crowd below; it could make one feel like royalty. The floor was littered with rose petals.

But by the Nine, where was your target?

A noise came from the wall to your left, there was another door, and its knob was turning. Shit. You reached for your weapon, preparing your mind for a fight and channeling your power for an Eldritch Blast, and from out the room stepped…

‘Raphael?’

Caught totally off-guard you sheathed your weapon back in its place, face scrunched up in confusion, then you noticed the blood, and its smell.

From his horns to the tip of his boots the crimson cambion was covered in even more red. Your bewilderment turned to trouble.

‘Raphael, what happened?’

But the devil’s face showed only mild amusement. ‘Nothing to worry about, little mouse,’ he said, waving off your concerns lazily, the movement of his hand sending sprinkles of blood to the floor. ‘I felt it was about time I took my… sweet revenge on that fiend I had quarreled with earlier. You remember?’

‘The one who damaged your wings?’

Demonstratively Raphael shook said wings, sending more droplets of gore onto the rich marble. ‘The very one,’ he said, a sardonic sneer dancing over his lips.

You found it hard to take your eyes from this unexpected scene. ‘Well, um, that’s good to hear.’ What exactly does one say to that? ‘I’m afraid I just don’t quite understand why we are here now.’

Raphael chuckled. ‘Oh, you have to forgive the misleading letter. It was such short notice and therefore I felt gracious enough to treat you to something nice and perhaps more extravagant this time around.’ He gestured about the room. ‘How do you like the bathhouse? I expect Circe has treated you as a very welcome and special guest like I asked her to?’

‘She did… but the meaning behind all of this still escapes me. What was all of that about my target?’

‘My dear, don’t tell me you really can’t see it. I am your target,’ and Raphael opened his arms wide like a magician revealing his grand trick, flashing a satisfied smirk at you. At your silence and the perplexed look on your face he continued, the seriousness back in his voice and expression. ‘Seeing as my good humour seems utterly wasted on you I shall explain plainly: I am covered in blood and gore right now, as you – with any luck – may have noticed, and am in dire need of a bath. Hence, the locale. And since you have proven yourself o so pleasantly capable of indulging me with your deft little hands, I thought to call upon you. Hence, the letter.’

His words were soft as silk but underneath that honeyed veil you sensed a growing tension rise. Was he self-conscious about asking this of you? So instead of giving out a simple ‘Oh?’ not to mention a possible remark about the way he reeked, you instead chose to free him from the awkwardness all too known to you. After all, Raphael appeared to have indeed thought the bathhouse to be a nice treat for you – in his world, one made up of a… curious way of looking at its inhabitants and his judgement over them, for better or worse. All the more reason to present yourself most grateful. ‘Well, I am flattered, Raphael, really. Of course I will fulfill my duty with the utmost dedication.’ Adding to your previous trail of thought: You found yourself not lying, actually looking forward to once again put your hands on your master, drawing the most delicious sounds from him. And if you had to wash up some blood for that sweet sensation then so be it!

The devil could sense the truth in your words and smiled at you, today’s premiere genuine one. ‘Excellent! I would have expected nothing less from my favourite protégé.’ He clapped his hands together. ‘Never mind the clothes.’

And with a snap of his fingers your patron stood in front of you just as bare as the rest of the bathhouse’s guests.

You could not stop your eyes from widening. Of course you were in a place that rather called for the stripping of one’s attire but no circumstance in the world could have prepared you for Raphael suddenly standing naked before you. He seemed so nonchalant about it too, you could practically feel the room’s aura filling with pride coming from the devil from whom you could not avert your gaze even if decency and respect before your master would demand it. You had not considered the possibility of Raphael being just as susceptible to this place of debauchery as everyone else. But my, what a sight he was!

Back in the boudoir you had already witnessed the man’s broad shoulders, his inviting chest sprouting a fluff of coarse hair, and fine scales covering his cambion form. You had marveled at your master’s beauty before and now – at last – you could see all of him, barely noticing the blood anymore. Those thick thighs on him, not to mention that member, as veiny and ribbed like the rest of him, as wide as your biceps and as long as your forearm, if you had to make a quick assessment that is. And then you could not help but wonder what it would feel like…

Suddenly you became very aware of Raphael’s glowing eyes on you. The smug look on his face brought even more colour to your face and finally you averted your gaze politely.

‘Your appraisal is noted and appreciated,’ he said and turned to approach the bath. Stepping inside he let out a satisfied sigh as he let himself sink deeper into the water, and more steam rose from the pool. You still stood there, frozen in place, not quite knowing how to proceed.

‘Well,’ Raphael continued while taking inventory of the small vials on the bank beside him. ‘What kind of oils do you prefer? To enhance this experience,’ he added, sending you a questioning look and tilting his head.

You really had no idea about the meaning behind these scented oils, nor what each of their effects may be, so you chose to just settle for something that you thought smelt nice: ‘Jasmine, I guess. Do they have that?’

Raphael’s smile turned to a conspiratorial smirk and immediately you felt like you had made a risqué choice, but then again – the devil was obviously in a teasing mood ever since shedding his clothes. Now he rummaged through the vials again until: ‘Ah, here it is – jasmine. Delightful choice, a real classic for two people wanting to spend some quality time with one another.’ With fervour he opened the vial and poured its contents into the water.

Hells, what had you agreed to?

‘Now then, come a little closer. No need to be so shy, we have this whole room to ourselves. I have made arrangements that nobody is to disturb us up here.’

Following his beckoning you noticed the oil’s scent rapidly filling the room and you could not help but deeply inhale the intoxicating aroma. You fidgeted your hands. Oddly enough, finally laying your hands on Raphael could actually help calm yourself down at last. Yes. Touching him. Letting your fingers glide over his strong, strong shoulders… Stop it! No lusting over your master now. You were dead sure the devil could sense your feelings about this whole situation, about him. O, to be blessed with that same kind of magic he seemed to possess.

Dutifully you knelt down on the bank, right behind him, getting ready to spoil him with your massaging once more.

‘What are you doing up there?’ Raphael interrupted you.

‘How do you mean?’ You were genuinely perplexed by his sudden change of mind. Did he not want you to bathe him after all?

The devil explained: ‘I could have any common slave genuflect behind me and do their duty without any trace of satisfaction on their part if I wanted to.’ He waved his hand in invitation. ‘Join me. The water is blissfully warm.’

Was he being serious? You could not possibly strip naked in front of your boss, your master, a devil! – albeit a cambion but an extremely powerful one still – not to mention jump into a steaming pool with him, the smell of jasmine in the air only adding to your already absolutely inappropriate trail of thought. Surely he was just testing your sense of professionalism now, having breached it once before when you practically ogled his toned body and cock.

Raphael took notice of your hesitation, raising an eyebrow. ‘Is there a problem?’

‘Forgive me, Master,’ you said. ‘Are you sure this is not a tad bit inappropriate?’

For a moment Raphael seemed to truly be taken aback by your words, turning sideways to look you directly in the eyes. ‘My dear, I had not meant to impose my company on you like that.’ He put his hand over his heart. ‘Trust me when I say, I only meant to offer you some indulgence in turn, in thanks for your continued services to me. After all, I did promise you to return the favour before, didn’t I?’

You threw up your hands in defense. ‘No, no, that’s not what I meant at all. I’m sorry, Raphael. I was talking about our relationship in general, you know, as business partners.’

‘Oh. So you fear for the professionalism in this matter?’

You nodded.

‘Well then,’ he said, clapping his hands together and letting out a sigh of relief. ‘That’s some weight off my chest.’ You could not believe your eyes and ears: Your words seemed to have really put Raphael back at ease. ‘Don’t you worry, my dear,’ the devil continued, and reached out to you with one clawed finger, gently but all too briefly brushing your chin. ‘This shall have no negative impact on our relationship as business partners. Indeed I believe it should have quite the opposite effect. What better way to bond and build trust in one another than bathing in the blood of a mutual enemy, hmm?’

A nervous chuckle erupted from your throat. ‘All right,’ you said, standing up, hesitantly adding: ‘But no peaking, yes?’

Raphael beamed at you and put his hands over his eyes playfully. ‘On my honour as a devil, I shan’t.’

You took a few steps away from the pool and started removing your shirt, then followed your trousers, and you could not stop thinking about how this scenario would unfold. Why did Raphael do all this? Had he indeed guessed your true feelings for him and wanted to manipulate you to further strengthen your loyalty towards him? But then why had he looked so utterly embarrassed at the thought he was pushing you to do something you might not want to?

Naked at last you turned to face the man who had conjured all this confusion within your mind, and you saw that Raphael was looking directly at you, arm resting on the bank.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I simply could not resist. And besides: We’re about to bathe together, little mouse. We’re bound to see each other – all of one another – at some point.’

Despite your indignation at his mischievousness you could not argue with that logic and approached the pool. Raphael’s eyes did not leave your form as you stepped into the water, and – oh my, was it warm!

‘Too hot for you?,’ asked the hunk of a devil, making room for you.

‘No,’ you said. ‘Just need a moment to adjust.’

‘That’s perfectly normal for a mortal like you.’ You made a mental note to wipe that smirk off his face along with the blood.

You sank into the pool, glad that the water reached up to your neck, covering your body at least somewhat. The depths of the pool offered another bank underwater, and you took seat, the overwhelming feel of the heat slowly wearing off. You could feel yourself relaxing.

‘Better?’

You nodded, feeling your eyelids lowering as the tension left your muscles, then you remembered you still had a devil to wash! Blinking, you quickly went to move behind him, and noticed a sponge lying on the bank, a bottle of soap next to it. You reached for the utilities and started prepping them for your next undertaking, dipping the soap-soaked sponge into the water and squeezing it gently before bringing it up to Raphael’s upper back.

Once you made contact with his skin the devil let out a soft sigh. ‘Oh, how I’ve missed this.’

You could feel yourself blushing once more, his words of appreciation never failing to make your insides flutter with excitement.

‘I’m glad you’re enjoying this already.’ Because you sure as hell did! You did not even care that you could still smell the sweet stench of blood and guts on him. All was well as long as you had Raphael pliant under your touch, purring like a satisfied house-cat. Smiling, you decided to better not let him know you thought of him like that. Better to just have Raphael assume all you wanted from him was a bounce on his cock, rearranging your organs.

Sliding the sponge over his back, drawing affectionate circles around his neck, you moved to his right shoulder where the blood was especially sticky, rubbing a little harder there. That drew the most delicious groan from Raphael.

‘You are so good at this,’ he sighed. ‘Although I do prefer the touch of your skin…’

Without hesitation you removed one hand from the sponge and laid it onto his shoulder, caressing it with your thumb.

‘Such a good little mouse.’

Once more you went to work on Raphael’s back, neck, and wings, putting in just the right amount of cleaning and massaging, thoroughly enjoying the small sounds of pleasure coming from the relaxed devil. Then he made a move, stretching his long limbs and swimming a little further towards the balcony, putting both his arms onto the bank and resting his head on them. Pliantly you followed him, schooling yourself not to look at his ass too much.

Raphael surveyed the scene below, the hell-folk in the main hall totally unaware of the intimate scene currently conspiring on the first floor between a certain half-devil being a little too familiar with his warlock.

‘They all look down on me,’ he mused. ‘Some do it in secret of course, others… are less shy about their disdain.’ If by design or unintentionally his left wing twitched, maybe a reminder of his past fight when you had taken care of him for the first time.

As gently as you could muster you let your fingers graze over the soft membrane and the twitching calmed down. You moved to lean in closer to your master. ‘Well, for now it is you looking down on them, Raphael.’

Even with his face slightly averted you could make out the smile forming on his lips. ‘I got to meet some of them while I was downstairs,’ you continued. ‘Most seem rotten to the core anyway if you ask me. They’re not… They are nothing like you, Raphael.’

At that the cambion slowly turned around, sitting down on the bank below the water, and once more you barely believed your eyes when he spread out his arms invitingly. ‘Come here,’ he said, and you found yourself unable to deny him his command – no, his wish – to have you to hold to support him in his moment of vulnerability. You moved to seat yourself on top of his legs, these thick thighs, and almost shuddered when he put his arms around you with a gentleness you never would have expected from him.

‘O, a bastard fiend like me could not hope for more, having such a loyal warlock by my side. A sweet little thing who adores me.’ He tensed up once more, only slightly but noticeably. The look in his eyes was almost pleading. ‘Right?’

With courage in your heart you tried to ease his mind by bringing your hand up to his face, caressing his cheek. ‘Yes, Master.’

‘Raphael.’

‘In all the Nine no creature could make my name sound as sweet as you, love.’

Love. What an odd thing to call one’s employee. But you had no time to ponder the level of appropriateness of yet another of your master’s quirks as he drew you closer towards him, letting you rest on top of his chest while he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

You stayed like that for a while, Raphael drawing circles over your back, tentatively mimicking your own past ministrations, with your nose in his chest hair and your hands peacefully resting in the water, never straying too far from the devil below you. It was an experience of true and utter tranquility, just as the bathhouse had advertised, and you started to regret thinking Raphael might have had some ulterior motive, coaxing you into the pool with him. Your words to him rang truer now that you realised he really wasn’t at all like those other devils and could not be farther from the picture those hags had tried to paint for you, that he was looking to use you for his own pleasure like a common whore. In this moment Raphael showed more of his mortal side to you than ever before: A man with his own set of doubts and insecurities, needing the affection and friendship of a loved one just like everybody else.

You placed a kiss on his chest. ‘Raphael?’

‘Hmm?’

‘You don’t need to write of some made-up target in your letters. I’m happy to do this for you any time you want.’

He said nothing to that, but being so close to him you could have sworn you felt his heart skip a beat.

#raphael the cambion #raphael x tav #my stuff #my writing

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royalarchivist · 1 month

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Missa: [Finds a book Fit wrote for Phil and stares at it in silence for a long moment]

Missa: ...Ok, Fit is talking to Philza. Should I... should I know what they're talking about? I mean, I mean no– it doesn't worry me, it doesn't worry me. I'm not a jealous guy. But maybe they've talked about this [the situation with Bad] and know something?!

Missa: It's like– it's like seeing his cellphone. No, I'm not going to read it, I'm not going to read it. No no no, no. It's like looking at his cellphone, no!

#Missasinfonia #Missa #QSMP #Pissa #Death Family #Translated #<- Please always feel free to correct me on translations #I'll admit the pronoun stuff throws me off a bit sometimes #not like pronouns but like ''his'' vs ''me'' sometimes #Thank you for the timestamp Pix I missed this entire scene because I was transcribing the other clips #I decided to clip it after all it's a good clip #BTW it was the letter Fit wrote to Phil on February 16 (I'm pretty sure)#the letter said: Dear Philza You are a great friend and a powerful ally #It’s just a shame that soon you’re going to…#Well… you know….#~Your friend Fit

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ask-the-totally-real-peppino · 1 year

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Hey fake don't be sorry, it's understandable! You're overwhelmed and forgetting about something is reasonable in you stage. Take some time Fake! You have brick, the special need rat, after all!!

Speaking of Brick, is it really a girl?? Since I still remember Gustavo using she/her on it

Pep: "Sdneirf, uoy knaht..."

Pep: "Ypeels... Mraw dna efas... Yfmoc yrev si xob... Mmblurblurb... Zzz..."

Brick: *curious squeak*

Brick: *happy squeak*

Gustavo: "Oh! You must be the little box of hundred voices Peppino told me about! Hello, it is nice to meet you! I am doing well!"

Peppino: (How did that get in here...?)

Gustavo: "What have I been up to since the tower fell? Well, I've mostly been helping the old tower residents to find new homes! Since I've explored a lot and met so many folks, I believe we can work to find a place for everyone!"

Gustavo: "Brick has been good too! She just finished school, and we're waiting for her custom harness to arrive. And yes, she is a girl, but she doesn't seem to mind what she is referred to as. She mostly just wants cheese and scritches. Speaking of, she will get extra of both today for a good job. But not while we're cooking - Peppino doesn't want to encourage her to come into the kitchen for food."

Gustavo: "And I of course I don't mind Pep staying here! It's Peppino's decision, after all. And while I have yet to meet him properly, from what I've seen, he sounds very nice! And he must be if Peppino let him stay."

Gustavo: "But he has always been a big softie~. In an ideal world, he would have adopted every stray cat he's found, and probably be running a cat café~."

Peppino: "Ey! You said you wouldn't share the things I say when I'm wine drunk!"

Gustavo: "Hehe, sorry Peppino~."

Peppino: "You are not sorry, bastardo."

(Pep is now asleep! They'll be awake and back to answering asks in a little while)

#pizza tower #fake peppino #peppino spaghetti #gustavo #brick the rat #translation: “Thank you friends...”#“Box is very comfy... Safe and warm... Sleepy... Mmblurblurb... Zzz...”#love is being a little shit to your bestie~#also congrats you guys! you get hands!!!#use them wisely #story post

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crowcryptds · 1 year

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🐓 bok bok!

#asougi kazuma #kazuma asougi #dai gyakuten saiban #the great ace attorney #dgs #tgaa #artists on tumblr #doodles #2023 #i remember a looong time ago there was an artist on here that had a hc that #asougi didn’t like eating chicken bc there would be a chicken that scared the shit outta him #so i was talking w my friend abt it offhandedly and they were like. what why didn’t you ever tell me this!!!#LIKE SORRY i forgot my brain genuinely tucked this into the folds of my brain!!!#but they were right. the chicken gets out of the bag #so meet this chicken… it’s name is touhei and since moving to the mikotoba family #this chicken has been the bane of asougi’s existance #does he refuse to eat chicken out of respect for touhei? or out of fear of what may happen if he ever does?#anyways touhei is just a google translation for artillery #my friend and i just hc that yuujin named the chicken that #shoutout to the artist… if i find you i must thank you if youre still here after all these years

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recurring-polynya · 4 months

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Izakaya Kamenoya

I am re-watching the Captain Amagai arc, which I love because it has just a shit-ton of Seireitei slice-of-life worldbuilding. Early in the arc, Kira goes to the bar with Renji and Iba to sob about how his new Third Seat is better than him, and it made me wonder-- do the lieutenants always go to the same bar, or does the anime just make up a new one every time? Episode 172 had a nice shot of the exterior:

I immediately went to Episode 355 (the second New Year's episode), because I'm always thinking about Rukia shotgunning that beer while Renji gazes on lovingly, and it certainly *looks* like same place, but again, maybe that's just a very standard-looking izakaya.

I decided that trying to translate the kanji might help. They're more visible in the first image. The ones on the paper lantern, 酒処 were easy, because they just say izakaya (literally, "alcohol" and "place"). That just supported the idea that this was just some generic bar. For the kanji on the wooden lantern, which appeared to be the same as the ones on the sign above the door, I managed to puzzle out the bottommost one, 屋, which means "shop" or "restaurant." Hmm.

At this point, I was feeling a little stumped, so I went looking for other screen shots.

Other bar scenes I could remember took place in: Episode 179 (Ukitake and Kyouraku try to angle Amagai into a threesome). This had a clearer shot of the sign, and it's definitely the same as the lantern.

Ep 305 (Kira and Hisagi go for drinks after work and run into Unohana having "Ladies' Night" with Soi Fon, the Kotetsu sisters, and Yachiru ????)

And finally, Episode 265 (the end of the Sword Beasts arc, Ladies' Night again, I guess, this time with zanpakutou)

and bingo, they actually translated it for me, this time!!

In, the only one that didn't turn out to take place at Izakaya Kamenoya was from Ep. 303, the first New Year's episode. The SWA holds their holiday luncheon here (the sign says 茶屋, or "tea house") .

It is also not the place where Rukia and Renji announce their engagement in WDKALY, that place is called Safflower, and it's fancier and it's specifically mentioned that it's way classier than everyone's usual digs.

That's neither here nor there, let's get back to Izakaya Kamenoya!

Later on, like when I was 90% of the way through writing this post, I realized there was an earlier shot of the sign in episode 172 that was also translated (which I thought I remembered and then assumed I had hallucinated when I couldn't find it, but it was from a separate trip to bar with Kibune and Kira's shitty subordinates). Conveniently, it's also probably the most readable out of all of them. EDIT: I didn't notice when I pasted this in here, but they translate it as Kamegameya here, which seems like a mistake? B3 suggests they might have read the second character as a repetition (with the k turning into a g, which I don't know all the details of, but I assume it's that thing that happens in Japanese when a word is in the interior of another word and it gets a harder consonant, the same way the s in "sakura" in Senbonzakura becomes a z). Google also tells me that the name of Yugi's grandfather's game shop in Yu-Gi-Oh is called Kame Game, so I wonder if the subtitler here was just working on muscle memory 😂. I'm sticking with Kamenoya, although Turtle Turtle Bar has its own charm)

The three characters in the upper left are 居酒屋, which is just a different way to spell izakaya.

"Kame" was easy to translate, it's the leftmost large character on the sign, 亀. It means "turtle", but the second meaning is "heavy drinker," so I'm guessing this might be a bit of a pun. Unfortunately, googling didn't turn up any further detail on this.

I puzzled a little over the middle character, until I realized that it might be 之, which is an older version of の. Oh, says me, who only speaks the Japanese I picked up from anime, it's Kame no ya, the way all the inns in Kakuriyo end in "ya." It just means "House of the Turtle", or "Turtle's Pub."

Turtle's Pub. Can we just take a moment to reflect on the fact that the lieutenants (and sometimes captains) like to hang out at someplace called Turtle's? I am so charmed by this. I have not been so excited since the time I realized that Renji was wearing the koi hoodie in the Bount Arc OP.

It's possible that it was just named by a guy who has "kame" as part of his name or who likes turtles, or as I said, maybe it's a pun, but there are two other possibilities I thought of:

In line with this post on the naming scheme for the Seireitei Gates, perhaps it's in the north part of the city, and named after Genbu the Black Tortoise-Snake

When I am making up business names in my fanfic, I often like to associate them with the squads they are near-- dragons for stuff near Squad 10, fish for 13, firebirds for things that are more city-wide. It's partially trying to tap into squad solidarity, and partially so people have a clue where your place is located in this stupid maze city. I love the idea of some former captain with a turtle-themed zanpakutou, whose is fondly remembered because someone happened to name a good bar after them.

I looked up that extremely questionable Blood War era Seireitei map, wondering if maybe Squad 3 was near the north gate:

It turns out it is not (assuming the unlabeled squads just go in order), but you know what is? Squad 10. So if Kamenoya is named after the North Gate, I assume everyone drinks there because it's close to Matsumoto.

(thank you very much to @kaicko for checking my work)

#izakaya kamenoya #posts you bring to your autism assessment #this is probably going to be a part one of three i have a *lot* of interior shots i want to talk about #thank you for coming on this translation journey with me i'm kind of an idiot but i had fun #for the record i did try throwing these in google lens and it said ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ so i had to do it myself #this is especially funny to me b/c my local state university has a turtle mascot so we literally *do* have a lot of bars named after turtle #turtle bar turtle bar TURTLE BAR #if anyone has any additional sightings please feel let me know!#do you think byakuya has ever been to izakaya kamenoya? i feel like he got dragged there occasionally as a lt and he hates it deeply #anyone know how to campaign for a new bleach wiki article? asking for a friend

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