#ashe x erader

[nyctophiliq]

Hi mossy! requesting again but this time just comfort,, any sort of comfort with the ow agents,, anyone you want <33 just need a little comfort in my life atm,,

feel free to ignore if you don't feel up to writing! and pls remember to take care of yourself 🫶🏽

✮ — CUDDLING WITH THEM ; widowmaker, kiriko, d.va, moira, mercy, brigitte, sombra, ashe, 

content warning; afab/gn reader. sfw ! — lowercase writing intended, no content warning applies

moss' notes; back from death !!! enjoy this fluffy little collection of drabbles and thank you for requesting celeste

— widowmaker˖⁠♡

widowmaker is not a woman who lets you cuddle her, no matter your reasonings, she cannot protect you if her arms are wrapped around you because she cannot reach for her gun like that, and having a third body like that in bed wouldn’t be comfortable for you. she refuses every single time but she will settle for letting you take her hand, lace your fingers with hers so you would stop demanding. you are happy and she is happy, perfect compromise.

“you keep your side of the bed, i keep mine… the hand is fine yes, it is… convenient.”

amélie however has a soft spot for holding you in her arms whenever she can, either in the bed or while watching tv and spending time together on the couch. she rarely sleeps on nights like that, she is trying to savor every moment that she can while being her true self. she doesn’t want to waste any minute while she can be with you when she can be outside so she pulls you as close as she can, enjoying the warmth of your skin against her cold body as you peacefully sleep.

“i can move if it’s uncomfortable for you, it’s just… i don’t often get to be this close and comfortable with you.”

— kiriko ˖⁠♡

most of the times, kiriko probably asks you to cuddle her or cuddles up with you when she is stressed. she likes whatever position, but half-spooning really is the thing that does it for her. kiriko enjoys holding your hand and playing with your fingers while her other hand is looped around you, circling either your back or arm. she can be a sort of menace, putting her cold hands under your shirt, telling you that they are cold and need to be warmed up.

“come here hanii, i need to cuddle you, hm? i am already laying down, come on now!”

— d.va ˖⁠♡

cuddling with hana is both good and bad. when it is a movie night and both of you ought to stay up, actively talk about what is happening and her little outbursts when somebody does something stupid keeps her up. at those times she is a really good cuddling partner, she likes holding onto you in any way she can cuddle up with your arm, or your chest, have you done the same to her or forced you to sit down on the floor, back against the back of the bed so she can loop around your neck and rest her head on your shoulder. but when it’s time to sleep and the two of you cuddle up, then she falls asleep, then she starts flopping around like a fish that ended up on the shore, stripped of water. she moves around, kicks, hogs the blanket, and takes up all the space on the bed! you cannot be mad at her, she is just so cute, but she is annoying.

“i am sorry nae sarang, it gets chaotic, gotta stay in the game at all times! let me make it up to you, please?”

— moira ˖⁠♡

physical affection doesn’t come to her naturally, she is always willing to comply with your request, experiment if you say that hugs in bed will make you happy. she will be eager to test your hypothesis. she finds it strange as you tighten your arms around her, how your heartbeat starts to fasten a little then calms down when you squeeze her a little stronger. she is just laying there like a dead body, her mind going at a speed of light, thinking of how it could be then her arms just wrap around you, her nails dragging along your skin. she once again picks up on your pulse racing a little before calming down and with all this over analyzing she is missing out the comfort that stirs in her, that her own heart is a little crazy as you lay so close to her.

“such a strange occurrence, your pulse seems to be all over the place my darling. my hand? i do not know… it just happened.”

— mercy ˖⁠♡

angela is a hopeless romantic and very affectionate, her love language varies between physical touch and words of affirmation. cuddling with her is like a fever dream, it’s the warmth that we all crave on a winter night. she likes to be face to face with you, brushing your noses together or with either your head in the crook of her head as she listens to how your day was, what you did, and what you plan on doing the next day. she progressively tightens her arms around your body, pulling you closer before sleep takes over her. she can hardly be coerced into taking breaks during the day so you gotta have to do with when she finally decides to come and lay in bed.

“liebling, your arms are my safe space, so that’s where i’ll be sleeping tonight, and you too, in mine! no safer than in the arms of a doctor.”

— brigitte ˖⁠♡

brigitte is a really good cuddling partner if not the best. she likes to be the big spoon and honestly who can deny her? but she wouldn’t mind you backpacking her, or would not object to it. she is estimated to be about 6 feet 3 inches tall, you bet she is gonna give the best bear hugs and cuddles. her strong arms looping around your frame, the breath of her sweet words hitting the top of your head before she plants a couple of kisses. there are times that she enjoys having your full body laying on her, literally, you are on top of her! she can’t really explain why it makes her so happy, but the plus weight on top of her is very comfortable for her, like a weighted blanket! it is embarrassing, she handles you like a baby at times like that, calls you one to tease you a little.

“you’re honestly the cutest when you’re all flustered and red. come on, don’t look so disappointed! you are the sweetest pie.”

— sombra ˖⁠♡

she is a bit awkward with it at first, slightly embarrassed to admit how much she needed physical comfort like this. she doesn’t know where to put her hands, where she can hold you and cannot, how to place her head or what would feel right for her so she just leans on you to show her. she really likes it when you cuddle her from behind, or the both of you are on your sides and you cuddle up to her chest. it is hard to believe someone like her would be at a loss of words yet could go on and on about how content she fills when being close to you like this. olivia is very shy to ask for such a simple thing, always needs to start all over again when she tries to ask for it.

“wanna, like- i mean, if you’re not busy… we could cuddle? or just hug that last a little while longer than it should, you know...”

— ashe ˖⁠♡

oh, how she loves cuddling after a long day between her gang members, having your head lay on top of her chest with her arms around your back, thumb slowly circling little shapes on the fabric of your shirt while she tells you all about what went down before the two of you got into bed for cuddling. elizabeth enjoys the feeling and knowing that she is protecting you as you are in her arms, safe from whatever might come. if you fall asleep she will just stare at you, no matter how her neck might hurt later, silently race her eyes around your face and study all your features. she can get a little cocky, and tell you all about how good it feels for her, the pressure on her tits, ask you if it’s the best pair of pillows you have ever had. of course she won’t tease you for too long if you find it too flustering or is not interested in talking about things like that. if you wanna enjoy the moment then be it, she will too, silently or while listening to you rant about what happened to you.

“you know you love me sugar, my wild heart, cuz i am wild at heart, that’s why you love me. don’t lie to me now, my favorite girl.”

tag list; @darlingmisa @soffisalive @sevikasangel @pixiegirlz @gonegonethankyouuu @xthescarletbitch @wolfheartsstuff

#📼 › moss tapes #ashe x erader #overwatch x reader #overwatch ashe x reader #overwatch kiriko x reader #kiriko x reader #overwatch widowmaker x reader #widowmaker x reader #sombra x reader #overwatch sombra x reader #brigitte lindholm x reader #overwatch brigitte x reader #mercy x reader #overwatch emrcy x reader #moira x reader #overwatch moira x reader #d.va x reader #hana song x reader #overwatch d.va x reader

[flametrashiraarchive]

So, since @desi-the-blue-eyed-kakushi fed me real real good with her Muzan smut I wanted to write something in exchange, and as per usual I got carried away and the Giyuu "blurb" I promised became nearly 3k words of smut and feelings.

Stay With Me

Giyuu Tomioka x F!Reader. Childhood friends to lovers. A lot of handholding.

NSFW below the cut. MDNI

It began innocently. 

You and Giyuu were just kids, given barely enough time to catch your breath and begin processing your grief after final selection when you were sent on your first mission together. The fight was messy and hard. Other slayers died. You survived, and that was a burden you both would always carry.

By the end of the fight, the pair of you were so exhausted you could barely stand. Giyuu's sapphire eyes stared at the snow-covered ground as the demon's body crumbled to ash and was lost to the wind. Your comrade’s bodies remained along with the guilt. The weight of everything sat atop you both, crushing and relentless; the loss and responsibility far too great for hearts so young to bear. 

You were hurting but so was he. Giyuu’s heart has been hurting since the day he emerged from that accursed mountain and stood unblinking in the wisteria grove. Back then you hadn’t known how to comfort that scared, silent boy, but as he sat beside you on that first mission, you reached out and offered him simple solace. You held his hand.

“Giyuu,” you said, “stay with me. It’ll be okay.”

His hand was small and trembling back then, calluses barely formed and skin peeling where the hilt of his blade had rubbed away the top layers. The skinned peaks of his little knuckles broke your heart, even though your hands were just as small and battered.

His hand just hung loosely in yours as you curled your fingers around it. But he didn’t try to pull away. He simply let it be. 

You kept a hold of his hand all the way back home.

“Thank you,” he said solemnly as you finally parted ways at a fork in the road. Those were the first words he had ever spoken to you.

As he walked down the road toward his village, your hand flexed around empty air. You missed the warmth. 

The next mission you were sent on together ended in much the same way. And the next. And the next. 

It became a habit. He would come to your side when the fight drew to a close, his hand nudging yours, inviting you to take it. He never spoke much– which you didn't mind at all; his presence was comforting enough for you. Some said he was weird. Others that he was too haughty to speak. You quickly silenced those whispers. 

Giyuu was just quiet and sad, carrying so much on his shoulders. And though you barely knew a thing about him, he was your friend. So, after every mission you found yourselves on together, after every death, you held Giyuu’s hand.

But the years passed and he climbed the ranks faster than you did. The silent boy became a stoic man; his hand feeling larger, rougher, and heavier after every mission. Before long your fingers couldn't surround his fully, but you still tried. And despite the strength of his grip on the hilt of his blade, he remained passive in the gesture, his fingers never once curling to squeeze yours.

Then, Giyuu became a Hashira, tasked with eradicating demons far stronger than you could even attempt to fight. Your missions together grew fewer and farther between.

You missed him; missed the weight of his hand in yours, the constant comfort of his presence, the deep blue shade of his eyes. A hollow, almost painful feeling surged in your chest wherever you thought of him, but there wasn’t time to dwell. There were demons to kill, lives to save. You took the ache and pushed it down, burying it beneath your responsibility. 

And then the time came when you were charged with leading a squad of lower rank slayers on a mission. Your quiet friend was engaged elsewhere, and at that point you hadn't seen him for months. Perhaps you never would again.

You tried not to think about him.

The mission went badly. Your entire group was wiped out. All of them, even the kids you'd silently sworn to protect from harm. The grief and the guilt were crushing. If only you'd been a split-second faster, if only you'd stood an inch the the left, if only your instincts hadn't told you to duck.

You sent your crow to fetch help, and tortured yourself with what-ifs, sitting on the earth in that forsaken forest. Waiting… surrounded by shrouded little figures. Two days later a troop of kakushi arrived to clean up and recover the bodies as you stood numb, staring… lost.

You were so close to disassociating entirely that you almost missed the glimpse of Giyuu's haori in the corner of your eye. Even when you registered what you had seen, you doubted your senses. Why would he be there? There was no need for a hashira; the demons were all gone. But no… your grief-stricken mind hadn't lied. He was there. For you. 

He approached you silently, standing by your side, his knuckles brushing against the back of your hand. A moment later he curled his fingers around yours, firm, reassuring, but so gentle.

"I heard what happened and came as soon as I could,” he said. 

"I should have protected them." Your voice trembled.

"I know it hurts. You can't blame yourself." His hold on you tightened. "Not even for a moment."

"Giyuu–"

His lips parted for a moment at the sound of his name coming from your lips, but he quickly recovered his composure. "Come with me."

Down the mountain he led you, away from the horrors, his hand cradling yours the entire way. His grip never once faltered. Even when you reached a village tucked away among the foothills. He brought you to a house whose door was painted with a wisteria seal. 

He had the mistress of the house fetch a doctor to check over your injuries, which were miraculously minor, and told her that yes, you would require food and tea when you couldn't summon the words yourself. To your surprise, he knew exactly how you liked your tea brewed and what foods you liked, even though you had never talked about it. It seemed he had paid close attention to your preferences over the years. 

He stayed by your side, guiding you gently through that difficult day. When the time came for you to rest, your hands remained linked across the space between your futons.

The sounds of his soft, slumbering breaths lulled you to sleep. And for the first time you could remember, you slept well.

When morning came, you awoke to the warm, comforting security of his embrace, your face pressed to his shoulder, and his fingers still entwined with yours. Sometime during the night you had rolled across to his futon and burrowed into his arms. 

With a gentle murmur he began to wake and opened his eyes a little; a sliver of deep blue appeared half-concealed beneath his thick black eyelashes.

His breath audibly caught in his chest at the sight of you curled against him, but he didn't move. Neither did you. 

Giyuu's shallow breaths fanned across your brow as you gazed into his eyes, caught in the duality of wondering if you had unintentionally crossed a boundary and feeling as though you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

"Is this okay?" you whispered.

He nodded once, and his hand gently tightened around yours. "Please… stay with me."

Heart thrumming against your ribs, you raised your interlocked hands to your lips and pressed a slow, tender kiss to each of his scarred knuckles. “Always.”

A sharp exhale blew across your forehead. You heard him swallow before he mirrored the gesture, his lips brushing against your aching hands, as soft and tender as new leaves warmed by morning sun. And when he had kissed each knuckle, he pressed a long, slow kiss to the pulsepoint of your wrist, closing his eyes, pulling in a deep breath.

Outside the world carried on as normal; birds sang, people chattered, carts rolled down the streets, but in your shared sanctuary everything changed. You repaid the kiss to your wrist with a kiss to his shoulder. He gave you an achingly soft kiss to your temple. You pressed your lips to his cheek, and he exchanged it for a kiss to the very corner of your lips which curved into a smile to mirror his own.

You were both breathless, pink-cheeked and dizzy with trepidation as the space between you closed and he touched the very tip of your nose with his. The warmth of his breath against your lips stirred up butterflies in your stomach. The hazy, almost drunk look in his eyes made your chest tighten. 

Bringing up his palm to cup your cheek, he stroked his thumb along its curve. He closed his eyes and kissed your lips; softer and lighter than mist at first, then deeper, and deeper. You might have missed the quiet moan which escaped him if not for the vibration against your fingertips which pressed lightly to the hollow of his throat.

Kisses cascaded between you, each deeper than the last. Giyuu moaned again as you slid your tongue over his bottom lip, opening his mouth to permit your entry. With every new sensation he grew bolder, pressing his body against yours, sliding his hand down to your thigh to hitch it over his hip, rolling you onto your back with his weight and pressing you down, once more interlocking his fingers with yours.

The soft smile Giyuu had given you as you exchanged kisses faded, replaced by a silent intensity as he rocked his hips against you, shivering at the sensation. Both of you were clad in thin pajamas, and the shape of his body, as well as the heavy swell of his erection were unmistakable. He groaned as he felt the intoxicating heat of your pussy through your nightclothes, both of you desperately craving closeness in any form. 

“Please…” he whispered, the only word his mind could summon as he pressed his forehead to your shoulder, fighting with the compulsion to keep rubbing his cock against you.

Heat tingled on your cheeks as you nodded in consent. “Yes.”

You were no less desperate, wetness soaking through the fabric of your pajamas as he grinded against you again. 

You were both functioning on instinct as you pulled off your shirts, and Giyuu’s lips closed around your nipple, lapping at it with his tongue. He lifted his hips and the pair of you pulled down his pajama pants, freeing his erection. It wasn’t the first you’d seen, but it was by far the prettiest– gently curved toward his belly, crowned with a sweetly blushing tip and adorned with serpentine veins. It was also the largest you’d seen. By a long way. 

He must’ve noticed the widening of your eyes, or the trepidation written across your face at the sight of it, because he released your nipple and glanced down with a worried expression which made your heart ache.

“You’re big,” you explained, wrapping your hand around it and giving him an exploratory stroke. 

A choked cry burst from Giyuu’s lips as his cock twitched against your palm and a white rope of cum shot from the tip, spraying over your stomach. He hurried to clean it up with his pajama shirt and collapsed into you, burying his face against your neck, red with shame and arousal. “Sorry, I’m so sorry. Oh, Gods, I didn’t mean t–I’ve never felt anyone touch–”

“Giyuu…” You placed your hand on the back of his head and stroked his hair, gently and shushing him. “Stay with me, it’s okay.”

His breaths blew hot and heavy against your collarbone, each one accompanied by a ragged whimper until the sensation of your fingers threading through his hair calmed him. “I don’t think I’m done,” he said, lifting himself up and glancing down at his cock. He was still erect, a pearl of cum dripping from the tip. “I…don’t want to stop… please…”

“Are you sure?”

“Very sure. Please don’t stop.”

You smiled and spread the cum over the blushing head with your thumb, arousal flushing your chest as his face darkened and his eyes fluttered shut. As much as you craved his touch, watching Giyuu fall apart was the most beautiful and delicious thing you had ever witnessed, and a part of you wanted that again and again. 

But Giyuu’s fingers gave yours a reassuring squeeze and then let go. He drew back away from your hands to kneel between your thighs. Inch by inch, he removed your pajama bottoms, kissing every bit of skin he exposed; your lower belly, your hips, your thighs, down to your knees. He removed the garment completely and glanced at your rosy face before his gaze fell reverently to your pussy. 

His lips were maddeningly soft as he kissed your cunt slowly, his tongue delving into your entrance as his groan curled your toes. His eyes flicked up to you, gaging your reaction before he traced the shape of your pussy lips, with his tongue. After each experimental caress his eyes returned to your face, so desperate to please, to give you everything he could. 

He lapped his tongue against your clit and your hips bucked toward him. “Fuck, Giyuu– that... Gods, yes–!”

Oh, there was nothing of the shy, quiet boy in his eyes then. Seeing your reaction, knowing he was pleasuring you well, tilted his lips into a smirk before they returned to their newfound purpose of driving you to absolute ecstasy. The blush on his cheeks spread as he licked at your clit, breaking away to breathe and circle it with the tip of his nose before continuing his kisses. His hot, wet mouth against your slick skin applying such divine pressure you couldn’t help but place your hand on the back of his head and sink your fingers into his thick, black hair, silently encouraging him to go on.

His name tumbled from your lips as you fell apart, grinding against his mouth. He savored every drop of your essence. Everything was new and fascinating to him; the way your thighs tensed and trembled, the powerful throb of your muscles as you rode the waves of your orgasm. He adored it. He wanted to give you more. More pleasure, more kisses, more love. He needed it. 

 As you came back down to earth, Giyuu kissed your pussy with such affection and tenderness your heart ached. He desired you, deeply and truly.

“I want–” he began, losing his voice to his shaking breath. “I want to be closer to you… can I…?”

You sat up, still trembling, anchoring your hands on his shoulders as you kissed him. The taste of you remained on his lips, mingled with the comforting scent of him. You wanted it too. You needed to be closer, to feel him inside you. 

Pulling him back down, you stroked a hand up the back of his neck as the other pressed his cock between your folds, coating the tip of it in your slick before pushing it into you.

Despite the fact he had already cum, he was entirely unprepared for sensation of fucking you. His back arched, pressing his pelvis firmly against yours, bottoming out in you suddenly and eliciting a cry from both of you as his feet slipped against the futon for purchase.

“F—fuuuck,” he gasped, lowering his head and gritting his teeth as his arms trembled beneath him. It was all too much. 

His body pressed to yours entirely, craving intimacy and closeness. He didn’t thrust–he couldn’t– he simply ground his hips against yours, the base of his cock rubbing against your clit as he gasped and the crease in his brow grew deeper. He was hanging on by a thread, overwhelmed and desperate to hold on, to make it last, to–

“Giyuu,” you whispered, placing your hand on his, “stay with me.”

He nodded, intertwining his fingers with yours and pulling in a breath. “Always… always.”

You held each other’s hand; that simple, innocent gesture of love and comfort, now more meaningful than ever. For years you had shared grief and guilt, loss and loneliness and the sweet comfort and solace you found in each other. And now you shared this. 

Giyuu Tomioka, that quiet boy whose hand once trembled in yours, now held firm and just as securely as you did him.

#tomioka giyuu #giyuu x you #giyuu x reader #giyuu x y/n #tomioka x y/n #tomioka x you #tomioka x reader #tomioka smut #smut and fluff #smut and feels #giyu tomioka #giyuu tomioka #kny tomioka #tomioka giyū #tomioka giyu x reader

[saintmuses]

❝𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙗𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙬 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙗𝙤𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩❞

Pairing:

Jealous!Jonathan Crane x Reader

Summary:

Despite they were not even together, Jonathan Crane made her suffer the consequences for flirting with Bruce Wayne.

Warning(s): implied future SMUT. Slightly Dub-con. Dominant and implied possessive Jonathan. Spanking. Minors, dni!

Word Count: 954

The steering wheel groaned slightly under the pressure of Jonathan’s hands that were curled into fists around it.

He couldn’t stop the moments from spilling over in his head like flashbacks in a film reel on the screen.

She was…so gorgeous tonight. In that sparkly dress that drew the attention of everyone.

Even Bruce Wayne walked up to her with intentions in his eyes to take her home with him.

Jonathan didn’t…he didn’t think she would be the one to flirt back with that godforsaken man who considered himself as the savior of Gotham, to feed the fuel to the fire of brimstone and ashes inside of his mind.

He was violently screaming inside of his head, unraveling as his rationality fell apart by each word that repeated back to him as a sacred prayer he refused to kneel for.

One of the things he dealt with on a daily basis as a symbolism of insanity that sometimes shone in his icy blue eyes, through words from his tongue, or even in his laughter when he was alone in empty space with four walls around him.

Jonathan was breathing heavily, the pure rage within him having reached its height.

No one had a claim to her, but him. He had always been secretly possessive over her in many forms. When they were in college, she became his friend, and he went so far as eradicating her other friends that way she could only go to him in the name of friendship. However, he had always knew he wanted her, but never as far as doing anything because he never had to worry about her finding other people to be with.

Now that chain that held them together was weakening as it was clear the bond was going to be threatened by others.

She was his.

He steered the car toward the edge of the dirt off the road, then he slammed his foot on the brakes causing the tires to screech as he did so. He pulled the vehicle to a sudden stop causing her to turn her head to look at him with confusion in her gaze.

Jonathan turned towards her but said nothing, his eyes locked on her as his body trembled from the intense rage and he felt like he could burst.

“You really are something special, you know that?” He finally said something, although icily, eyes blazing with brimstone as he stared straight at her.

He was furious to the point that he couldn’t see or think clearly, but he couldn’t deny how much of a lure she was to him.

“I’m not sure why I haven’t given you a good spanking yet,” he huffed, storm began to take over his irises as his lips curled into a snarl.

Her breathing hitched as her eyes widened before narrowing it. “I dare you.” She hissed, eyes narrowing in fury as she challenged him.

Oh, she should know he would accept it.

He heard her yelping when he reached across the passenger seat and dragged her over onto him in the driver’s seat where she was forced to accommodate her knees around his thighs on the leather. He then dragged the hem of her dress just under the curve of her ass, and she gasped when he landed a hard smack on the back of her thigh.

He wasn’t going to stop with one spanking, and he continued to slap one of her thighs until she started to let out little gasps, ending with whimpering.

“You deserve every red mark that’s going to be on your skin, sweetheart.” He said lowly, informing her with monotonous tone.

He reached for her thighs to grab the hem of her dress, pushing it up until it bunched up around her waist. He did all that too quickly that she did not have time to react to his ministrations. She hissed in surprise when his hands grabbed her ass; fingers squeezing her flesh firmly in a possessive hold, ignoring the lace of her panties before using one of his hands to land a harsh smack on her ass. “You’re mine.”

Of course, he knew she was surprised by his behavior since he had never acted like that towards her. He continued to alternatively swat her thighs and her ass, enjoying every second he could spend making her feel the sting of his slaps.

“Am I making myself clear to you, sweetheart?” he growled, glaring at her through the glass bounded by his metal frames.

He withdrew one of his hands from her ass until he reached between them, reaching down towards her legs. His lips curled into a smirk when he smacked her hard between her legs, enjoyed hearing her gasp.

Jonathan noticed the sudden change in her body language and the way her eyes widened as he crossed the line.

Her eyes were a bit strung out, and before she could respond, he reached behind her and grabbed her ass with his fingers, digging into her raw skin with his fingertips which made her thighs quiver in response while whimpering. 

He knew he was getting to her, and he was enjoying it. A part of him could never see himself taking this far, but he couldn’t stop himself now.

He looked at her with a slight maniac grin and continued to slap the inside of her thigh, then he reached for the thin fabric of her panties, curling his fingers into the underwear before pulling it aside until her cunt was exposed as he gave her another slap. He mentally noted a slick sensation that came from her cunt.

“Enjoying this, sweetheart?” he said condescendingly, his voice growing lower and more deeply with each word.

#jonathan crane #jonathan crane x y/n #jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut #the dark knight trilogy #cillian murphy x reader

[storiesoflilies]

Of Angels and Curses

Synopsis - In a world where Angels and Curses are locked in a never ending war, an unsuspecting seraph becomes entangled with the very thing she is fated to eradicate.

Pairing - Curse!Toji Fushiguro x f!Angel!Reader. Curse!Ryomen Sukuna x Reader. Angel!Satoru Gojo x Reader.

Warnings - General descriptions of violence and injuries, eventual smut.

A/N: Aaaaand here we go!! I’m posting this earlier than I was supposed to in honor of Toji’s birthday. Fun fact - Toji and I share the same birthday :) Ko-Fi.

Next part — Chapter 2

-•-

Chapter 1

The sky was falling ever so softly.

She’d spent so long staring upwards at it, utterly astounded, because it never occurred that way when she imagined it in her head. There was supposed to be an all-consuming deafening rumbling, chunks of blue tumbling down from above, and fiery meteors the size of moons hurling themselves into the chaos of a dying Earth.

But no, it was more like a hundred million and one glowing embers fluttering down like beautiful dying butterflies.

Is this what it’s like when Angels fall?

Y/N thought it was a more peaceful way to go; instead of a violent plummet into the dirt to trade their lives for another one as a Curse. It was a nice thought, naive even, because seraphim were not kind nor merciful to those who they deemed had turned against them. Stupid, wishful thinking, a selfish desire for the world to be anything but exactly what it is; sin was as inevitable as the sun, rising and falling with time in a terrible terrible cycle. She’d seen the streets run crimson like glimmering rubies as Angel’s wings were torn from their bones and flesh, heard their screams from afar as they begged and pleaded not to be cast out. It was always the same; Heaven is, and always would remain, divinely perfect, and it would forever be ruthless in its pursuit of maintaining it. Free will is a beautiful thing, certainly, so long as one made only the right choices.

She shook her head, cool ash flaking off her hair, and picked up her katana from where it lay beside a Curse’s corpse. Satoru Gojo had trusted her with hunting down this particularly erratic Second Layer Curse that had been capturing and torturing wounded Angels. Indeed, she could see the remnants of its latest mangled victim underneath its grotesque blubbery body; a once living soul now just an unrecognizable face beaten into a bloody feathery mess. Maybe they had once sinned, perhaps not, but what did it matter? They were just another tally to be scratched on a plaque, a life reduced to a single scratch on a stone already marred by millions of markings.

Y/N briefly considered attempting to retrieve the body for a proper burial, but it was already far too late in the day. The last rays of the sun threw a brilliant shade of red across the sky, a low hum of anticipation in the air that whispered of all the fury and violence of thunder and lightening; night would soon fall to unleash the lethal Curses that dwelled in the deepest layers of Hell. If she didn’t hurry and ascend to Heaven, then she would bear witness to the unholiest of rituals, as the Earth would crack open beneath her and the molten fire of Sukuna’s wrath would burst forth and consume her body and soul.

She kneeled in front of the Curse; its forked tongue rolling out of a toothless mouth, lidless eyes tipped backwards into its head, and blackened blood dripping from the fatal wound right through its brain. Y/N’s thumb squelched uncomfortably as she pressed it firmly into the rubbery skin of its forehead, and murmured a quick prayer for the deceased seraph, and a blaze of golden light engulfed both corpses. Gojo had taught her how to use her divine energy to smite dead Curses, just to make sure they won’t try again in his own words, and this power could also be extended to cremate their own.

The ground groaned and rumbled, as if protesting against its part to play in the cycle of violence, serving as a sinister warning for her to hurry. A wave of panic washed over her, and Y/N closed her eyes; grasping to control her lackluster wisps of divine energy, and cried out into the seemingly empty plane of the Unlimited Void.

But empty it was not, for Satoru Gojo sees and hears all within his domain.

Within an instant, she felt herself floating into and across the Void as Gojo’s essence consumed and caressed her soul; still as exhilarating and frightening as the first time she had tepidly stepped through this plane of existence. And Y/N could feel all of him, but could do nothing but helplessly travel through the cosmos of his own making. Gojo was like a turbulent ocean, ever-changing and impatient, but perplexingly beautiful; a ticking clock waiting to chime a tune of misery to signal his arrival against his enemies. Not many Angels were privy to ascending into Heaven this way, because Gojo simply didn’t want to do it for just anybody. He was like a fussy child picking only the best things to play with; his trust the ultimate game to win, and many had tried. Y/N didn’t think it was so complex, because she understood fear in a way Gojo could never, and ordinary Angels couldn’t face the fact that their souls would be bared so openly and judged by the Six Eyes himself.

Y/N blinked, and found herself in front of him.

“Cutting it a little close, eh?”

Satoru Gojo stood with his corded forearms crossed over each other, tall and broad form leaning back against an iridescent golden pole of the Gates of Heaven; a marble statue carved directly from God’s hands that demanded complete attention, a perfect vision of beauty that Y/N could never tire of looking at it. He wore a bemused smirk on his face, clearly relishing in her reliance of his power to save her from certain doom, but Y/N liked to think he didn’t completely look down on her. Perhaps she could give him the benefit of the doubt; he had been waiting for her outside the city, and maybe expected her to ascend to Heaven normally, which required an Angel to fly upwards from the Earth and pass through each of the seven layers of Heaven. Each of these layers were well defended by legions of seraphim ready to lay their lives against imminent attacks, bolstered by colossal golden gates similar to the one guarding the main city.

“But you’ve done it, right?” He continued, his eyes completely focused on her as she approached.

Gojo often asked questions he already knew the answers to, something he did with her and his other favorites; a way of settling nerves and putting them at ease around him, as if he hadn’t rooted through every crack and crevice of their minds, pretending he didn’t know them more intimately than they probably did themselves.

“It’s done.”

He hummed appreciatively, the hundreds of eyes decorating his wings blinking intermittently to give an illusion of twinkling cerulean lights, and extended his hand for her to take. Y/N accepted, refusal simply not an option, her fingers intertwining with his as he dropped the infinite barrier coating his body, and let him lead her through the Golden Gates and into the city; their kingdom far above the Earth – where no Curse had ever managed to breach. 

Heaven was a seemingly never-ending city; a labyrinth of buildings and twisting pathways built from white marble, with pearlescent towers of varying heights dotted throughout. – a perfect pristine canvas of glittering white diamonds. Many Angels would live together in each of these towers, forming extended families to be born and raised together for generations. Cool air washed through every twist and turn of the city, flowing between trees with silver leaves bearing the sweetest figs; which grew intermittently between any sliver of space between the rock, and some were even as tall as the towers themselves.

“Gojo, couldn’t you see the sky below?”

“Hmm?”

“The sky was burning before I left, it was falling.”

“Ah yes, well… that’s no surprise. Geto has become a Curse, and he is past my sight now. It makes sense the first thing he did was kill the Sky Sentries, so I suppose it’s a good thing you called for me through the Void.”

She froze, and he stopped with her.

Geto is, was, Gojo’s second in command; his most trusted confidant and closest ally. If he had fallen, then there would be many other Angels who would have willingly fallen with him. The Sky Sentries guarded the sky of the Earth, the first layer of Heaven; they stood at the frontline of the war, warriors that couldn’t afford to rest, for come nightfall it was a bloodbath of Curses attempting to breach the first barrier.

So many of us are dead. More lines on the wall.

“Gojo, I-,” Y/N paused, unsure of what to say. “I’m sorry.”

At this, he released her hand and turned to face her. “Why? He made his choice.”

Gojo turned away again, staring down at the ground beneath his feet like he was seeing right through it to the Earth and scorched skies, and scoffed loudly. It was a seething sound of a betrayal that had cut him deeply, and it was a promise of violence and vengeance. Nobody escaped punishment, especially not from the Six Eyes, and Geto was certainly not above consequences.

“You know, we were all given free will. It shouldn’t surprise you, when an Angel - any Angel - falls into darkness and becomes a Curse,” he stated with finality, a sharp edge of a steel knife in his voice.

“But, Geto was our family,” Y/N breathed out shakily, her sadness starting to bubble out uncontrollably. “I didn’t know he was changing, I never noticed anything was wrong.”

“Neither did I,” Gojo whispered defeatedly, a complete change in his tone, letting slip just a sliver of his hurt for someone else to see.

Geto and Gojo were born three centuries before Y/N, and became nigh inseparable; a perfect example of how strong the bond of comradery should be between Angels. She had first met Geto when he had started training her to fight, he’d still hadn’t risen to power back then, and they quickly became close. Of course, naturally Gojo took an interest in her as Geto’s pupil, and over the next two hundred years, Y/N had witnessed them rise through the ranks of the Angels; until they reached the pinnacle of power, their combined strength looming over them all like the omnipresent presence of God in Heaven – and yet, they still kept her within their circle. But Geto was different to Gojo, because he understood that strength wasn’t a gift distributed to everyone, and Y/N had seen him fight a fraction harder just to stand on par beside Gojo on the podium of divinity. He had become her brother; a pillar of strength in her life in a way that the Six Eyes could never be, someone who she could truly say would fight to the death for her if he thought her time had come too early.

Gojo was silent for a moment before continuing, “But the sky will heal, Shoku and her followers can do it. There’s always more of us ready to take each other’s place, you don’t need to worry about it anymore.”

He tenderly stroked her cheek smeared with dried Curse blood, watching as a stray tear escaped and ran down her face like a petulant child, and let out a great sigh as if it was the greatest inconvenience for him to witness her sadness. Y/N felt sheepish; how could she be so upset over a betrayer, a snake that had bitten the hand of someone who had thought it graceful and beautiful. Gojo’s great wings unfurled around them, his feathers tickling her exposed neck softly like a lover would, and his arms pulled her into an embrace.

“Im alright Satoru,” she sniffled after some time. “I just need to be alone, to clean myself and pray for him.”

“His soul is gone, you know that Y/N,” Gojo said softly, like she was a precious crystal he held in his palms, threatening to shatter at any moment.

“I don’t care, I need to put him to rest in some way, for my own peace.”

“Let me come with you then, when I return in the morning. You’re too exhausted to go and pray now.”

“Gojo, please. I need this.”

At this he let her go, his wings snapping back in place like they had been stung, and placed his hand on her head in a blessing. A soothing cool sensation spread all the way down from his palms, healing her weary bones and muscles; bathing her in the rarely tranquil ocean of his divine power, and she shuddered in both fear and relief. Some of his followers had gathered around them, eagerly awaiting their commander to follow into the ensuing battle at the First Gate; curiously glancing at the sight of the two of them, like they were forbidden art that nobody could look at for too long. She knew that he had to go; Gojo always went to battle when the last light left the Earth, even if he had already been fighting during the day. But such was the duty of the Six Eyes — always in the heat of battle, never tiring and never resting.

“Go and sleep,” he said, an order; daring her to refuse again. “I’ll see you in the morning. We can pray together then.”

“Be safe,” she whispered.

He nodded, and then vanished instantaneously, leaving Y/N alone surrounded by the watchful eyes of the other seraphim.

-•-

From light we are born, and to ashes we return. 

The beginning of a prayer uttered for those who had passed.

Who once was mighty and now fallen.

Y/N had recited these words many times over, but never once had she done so for a Curse.

Heavenly Father, may you guide our souls to peace in Paradise. 

She bathed in starlight and galaxies, and sank backwards into the bathing pool; sending her further into space, to a time and place where her brother hadn’t left her. Caked Curse blood swirled away in the holy water as she sank deeper, her eyes never closing as she stared up at the stars in the night sky.

Where we may all meet again. 

Y/N whimpered pitifully as she thought again of Geto in the depths of Hell, wondering if he was suffering as his once holy power was warped into something wicked and corrupt. Would he even look the same, would she recognize him if he materialized in front of her at this very moment; a snarling animalistic Curse like the one she had killed today. Or would he remain as he was like a blip in time, a frozen facade of happiness, but with only malice and sin left underneath it all?

To remain in your eternal light forever.

She emerged, water running down her face as her heart constricted painfully, and clasped her hands together and whispered, “Forgive him, oh please forgive him.”

What was else she supposed to do? Oh how she wished she could go back; maybe then she might have noticed if his eyes had tears of darkness in them, if he had laid there alone as the night full of terrors ushered and coaxed his soul to their side. Then she could have told herself what she was meant to do, instead of grieving for Geto like he was already dead like a ghost she would forever clutch on to; stuck reliving a trail of memories she once thought she knew most of, and now none at all. But if she looked into Gojo’s blue eyes, would she find a glimpse of the brother who lifted her on to his shoulders and raised her with dignity and kindness?

Enough, enough . 

Y/N climbed up the steps of the pool as droplets of stars cascaded down her hair, down between her thighs, and down to her feet. She wondered what sort of horrors were unfolding hundreds of thousands of leagues beneath her; if Gojo was striking down Curses with all the fury and might of a scorned lightning storm. She murmured silent prayers for the creatures who stood in his way, and for the seraphim whose lives would be lost as a consequence of Geto’s betrayal. Her feet tapped against the cool marble pathway leading from the pool to the back entrance of Gojo’s tower, and Y/N shook her wings free of any remaining water droplets that flung to her feathers. Her body was bare for all to see as she passed through the empty hallways, but she wasn’t concerned; all those who followed the Six Eyes had followed him into the night, into war. Gojo hadn’t deemed Y/N strong enough to fight during the night, and he never would; for his own selfish reasons, he was keeping her safe.

Her thoughts strayed to when he had openly embraced her in public, and knew that it would have added some truth to the rumor that they were more than just comrades. It was common for Angels that hadn’t found their soulmates to marry each other, as it unfortunately wasn’t always a guaranteed event during one’s lifetime; and of course new seraphim must be born to fight in the war. Since neither of them had found theirs as of yet, so many believed that they would eventually marry. Gojo had made numerous advances to court her over the past few decades, namely allowing her to stay within his tower, as well as hints during various conversations that he expected her to marry him when he finally did ask. Y/N knew that he was aware of her hope for her own soulmate, and that was the only reason he had graced her with his patience, but hope was dangerous in war – it was only a matter of time before he saved her from her own misery.

It would be the most practical thing to do, and Y/N truly did care for him, but was that really enough?

Satoru Gojo was an enigma. On the one hand, he was adored for his effortless displays of power as he could single-handedly decimate armies. On the other, what made him loved was also what made him feared; all he had to do was drag a seraph charged of sin into his Unlimited Void, and they would be helpless as he brutally tore through their minds in search of the truth. If found guilty, he would rip their wings from their backs himself, and then hurtle them towards Hell. Satoru Gojo was as revered as he was terrifying; like he had attained a status close to godliness. Why he had chosen her to be his, Y/N would never know; she could only accept him when he finally came calling for her.

Y/N shook her head, trying to banish all thoughts from her head, and slipped into her bed as her wet hair soaked through the pillow.

What if Geto shows himself tonight?

Perhaps she was right to mourn him, Gojo would strike him down for what he had done. Would Geto give reasons as to why he had sinned if he could speak properly? Y/N hoped so; whatever his answer, it could steel her resolve for the hard fight ahead. But for now, she attempted to empty her head of dark thoughts in an effort to sleep. She would have to be well rested to deal with the fallout of Geto’s betrayal; many new Curses would have been born from all the anguish he had caused.

Can I really hunt those who were my allies just this morning? 

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, hands clamped over her ears, and prayed the negativity and heartache away from her dreams.

-•-

A purple aura permeated Y/N’s room when she awakened, spilling in feverishly from outside the window, and an eerie silence from the previous night lingered and settled like dust. The battle for the sky must still be ongoing if no one was home yet, which meant it was as brutal as she dreaded it to be; for Gojo must have used his Hollow Purple for forcing the sky to change color. She felt fresh fear being thrown over her like a bucket of ice, as the possibility of more of her family dying hit her instantaneously. Y/N quickly donned a fresh set of armor; it was morning now, Gojo couldnt forbid her from descending to Earth since the moon and stars had vanished from sight – she was permitted to go and fight.

Wait.

Y/N froze.

It was Gojo’s voice in her head, his authority reverberating within her mind like a great ringing bell. A strange feeling gathered in the pit of her stomach; he never communicated telepathically with her. Was he trying to keep her from harm? Why wasn’t he allowing her to descend?

I’m coming to you.

Butterflies furiously erupted in her chest, and Y/N hurried outside the tower; the purple glow of the sky growing stronger the closer she got to the entrance of the tower, like a warning nobody could possibly ignore.

The streets outside were in chaos.

Wounded seraphim were being carried by other Angels from a large swirling blue portal at the farthest end of the street from her, and were immediately being tended to by Shoko’s followers. There was an acrid smell in the air; of anguish and death, the scent of suffering from Hell itself. Y/N spied Nanami Kento holding his blunted sword close to his chest, eyes closed as if he was deep in pain but keeping it hidden, as Shoko wrapped his bloodied arms with fresh bandages.

Before Y/N could push her way towards them, the crowd imploded with feverish excitement and shouting as the portal zapped shut, and she jumped back in fright. An unmistakable white head of hair was moving through the crowd, and the seraphim were singing with glee as they parted for their champion; a god splitting the sea, and holding back the oncoming tsunami of adoration. And then, Gojo finally came into view from where she stood, an indecipherable look upon his face as his eyes roamed over every seraphim in the crowd. His gaze inevitably locked onto her, and Y/N noted a crazed spark in his eyes that made her feel uneasy. But she was frozen in place, like prey helplessly watching a predator rushing towards it, as Gojo strode towards her; broad build dripping with Curse blood as he climbed the stairs, stopping just a step below her.

And then he kneeled in front of her, and the universe went quiet.

Y/N’s eyes widened, “Gojo, what are-”

He reached behind his back, procuring two katanas in his palms to her like they were an offering, but she knew exactly where they had come from. The blades were made of pure holy silver, diamonds and pearls encrusted on the hilt — unmistakably Geto’s weapons.

“Geto lost the right to these holy weapons when he betrayed us,” Gojo said as he turned the blades over in his hands, examining them with that same indecipherable look.

“He’s dead then?” Y/N breathed out shakily.

Gojo shook his head, “No, he escaped, but all his followers have been punished.”

She sucked in a breath.

So many more dead.

“These are yours now,” he continued. “If you’ll have them.”

The Six Eyes had never once kneeled for anyone. Y/N knew what was coming, what he was about to ask of her; but how and why had he decided so suddenly that now was the time? He stared up at her with those all knowing eyes, like he was privy to her thoughts whirling in her head, and maybe he was.

Let him go.

How could she? Her heart ached for a part of her soul she had never even met — and might never. Even if she did meet her soulmate, marrying Gojo would forever bind her to him, lest she would be cast out of Heaven for the sin of forsaking her marriage vows. Would he ever be able to make her move on and forget? Did he really know just how much he was asking her for? Her heart hammered in her chest; she wasn’t ready for this, not now, and maybe not ever.

He is Satoru Gojo. If he isn’t enough for you, then who else is?

“I promise to protect you from anything that would hurt you,” Gojo vowed, his voice low for words only meant for her. “I will uphold your virtue and strength, and I promise to stand by your side no matter what happens. I promise to end the Curse of Sukuna, and create a paradise for us and our children, even if it kills me.”

Never once had Satoru Gojo ever mentioned the possibility of his death; it was unnerving, unspeakable, unnatural. His usual saccharine tone was nowhere to be found, and it was deathly quiet all around them – every soul hanging on every word they spoke with bated breath.

“I promise to love you, but please… all I ask is for you to love me and accept me for all that I am, for who I’m going to become,” Gojo whispered, and for the first time in their centuries of friendship, Y/N could see desperation deep within his irises.

She breathed out, steeling herself from the heartache and loss settling deep inside her; her defeat was imminent, but she would rise again to take her seat on the throne beside him as his equal. The world jittered in anticipation as Y/N took both of Geto’s katanas in each of her hands, her knuckles turning white as she gripped their hilts. Gojo stared at her, pupils blown wide; from adoration for her or the heat of battle, she didn’t know.

“I accept you, Satoru Gojo.”

Nothing would ever be the same again.

-•-

#toji fushiguro #toji fushigro x reader #toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen #female reader #gojo satoru #soulmate au #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #toji smut #sukuna smut #toji fushiguro x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #smut

[sukirichi]

PURELY BUSINESS.

pairing. pantalone x fem! reader

cw. explicit smut, minors dni. creampie. fingering. pantalone likes to grope tits. backshots. creampie. vague mentions of death. reader does illegal jobs. implications of degradation. marking. pantalone is slightly possessive. unprotected sex. unedited and i wrote this in like an hour so agahsjkal

note. idk what happened, i saw a pantalone playlist and now i wrote this. honestly been simping for this man ever since i saw him ?!?!! i’m more of a dottore fucker but like pantalone is mad fine

darkness engulfed the languid town. the bitter moonlight casted a pale glow on the people’s sunken, gloomy faces, emphasizing how the frost had seeped into everyone’s bones and transformed them into mindless, lethargic zombies. such was a normal sight in the outskirts of snezhnaya—where all the less than beautiful people and less than sparkly trinkets were thrown. eradicated. not quite in the middle of nowhere, but exiled far enough to let the outcasts be consumed by the cold.

leaning back onto the abandoned building behind you, you pulled at your gloves. the cold in snezhnaya was nothing to take lightly. you were not a local here so your breaths came out fogged and ragged—merely a merchant of some sorts who would do pretty much anything when it came to the right price. and sometimes, the right clients.

rare as they may be since you hated the cold, there were certain circumstances that made sneaking into the mysterious ghostly territory worth it.

“still cold, i see? i could warm you up should you need assistance.”

you heard him before his dark, tall silhouette slowly appeared from the shadows.

silky black fur rested atop his shoulders that fit him snugly. the sight made you sniffle back the cold as you narrowed your eyes at the man, bewitched by his charming smile yet you knew better that his heart was as cold as his homeland, and his beauty only served to mask his sinister desires. desires that more often than not included in you warming each other up in his grandiose bed—an event that gradually became a normal routine in your life.

“pantalone,” you greeted, pushing your back off the wall and closing your eyes as his lips brushed across your cheek. “i’ve delivered the goods as you asked.”

“lovely,” a smirk paints over his handsome face. one glance at the inconspicuous carriage in the alleyway was all he needed—pantalone never doubted the quality of your service and trusted you wholeheartedly. even if he technically shouldn’t as you were an outsider. at this point, you knew too much about the harbingers’ motives that he should be hanging your head at his manor as a trophy, yet the both of you felt such violence was unnecessary. “though never as lovely as seeing you again, hm?”

“always the charmer, pantalone. let’s cut to the chase. i’ve delivered and you—”

“—must do my part and proceed with the payment, yes,” tilting his head to the side, your brow shot up at the sight of his bodyguards lurking in the shadows slowly back off. “shall we go, then?”

just like he, you had also broken your own rules when it came to doing business.

it was supposed to be simple: discuss the client’s needs, receive payment, and terminate the contract to ashes to leave no traces.

but with pantalone, it was either things became much simpler or your business would tumble downhill. it wasn’t part of the contract that you would be discussing each other’s needs in the bed just minutes later—his large, gloved hands gripping your hips with much eagerness from a man who hadn’t tasted his fleeting lover for weeks now. you weren’t supposed to kiss him back in the same fervour. fingers carding through his smooth locks and swiping his glasses off to the nightstand until pantalone was hovering over you, and you moaned into his mouth. legs wrapped around his waist.

you could spend the rest of your nights like this—rolling around with him in the sheets and leaving your scent in his satin pillowcases. true, there may be no promises you’d ever see the next sunrise with him, but who cared? the fog in snezhnaya was so thick it often blocked some proper light, and you were gone from pantalone’s quarters before he could notice.

that was the routine; one you’d never get tired of when pantalone knew your body better than you did. he reached sensitive places in you that you never knew existed, and the cruel man’s calloused hands held you gently in times he didn’t want to fuck you like you were a whore.

(it may be hard to believe, but pantalone was an expert at making love without love being thrown into the mixture.)

“would it be unprofessional if i said i missed you?”

his words were left muffled at the crook of your neck. pantalone’s hand sneaks under your blouse and unclasps your bra with ease, letting your head fall to his pillows with another guided hand. his eyes not once leaving yours as he awaited your response.

“hmm,” you mused, helping him shed his precious coat onto the ground. the both of you held each other like that, skin to skin and breaths shared into one. your nipples brushed across his solid chest littered with scars that held stories you hadn’t heard before. curiously, you traced your fingers above them, and the man sucked in a shudder before you. see, pantalone was a fearsome harbinger who was not to be trifled with, but you were a different story. you held no intentions of meddling in his business. it was never in your nature to poke your nose into matters you shouldn’t be involved with, but being involved with pantalone alone? perhaps you could look away from the strict rules of professionalism and simply give in to one’s desire.

even pantalone didn’t find it too bothersome to be rebellious every now and then.

“perhaps not,” you leant up to leave a kiss to one of the scars residing above his breast, legs spread wider to accommodate some space for him. there also laid the unspoken question of whether any of you had space left for each other to occupy, though the natures of your careers said otherwise. so you cupped his cheek, pulled him in for a sloppy kiss that was more tongue and teeth clashing than lips romantically moving in sync, and gnawed on the bottom plump of flesh. “i dare say i missed you too—pleasure doing a business with you as always, my lord.”

pantalone’s deep laughter reverberated into the spacious room.

“oh, i would understand why. your pockets must be filled deep each night you travel to where i ask you to.”

“as satisfying as it is that i can have whatever i want thanks to you...” dragging your tongue across his cheek, pantalone let you nibble on his earlobes. you were a teasing little minx—knowing full well it was the small, simple touches that always had blood rushing to his cock. you were proven correct, too, when he grinded his crotch against yours. his balls grazing the back of your thighs and his pinkish tip leaking with desperation; his poor hand must not have been good enough right after he’d had a taste of you. “...i’d rather you fill me deep and fuck me so hard i’m gonna limp my way back home.”

“is that a challenge?”

“it’s an order.”

pantalone shook his head with a small smile. were you anyone else, he would’ve shut you up effectively for speaking so casually with him. he was the ninth fatui harbinger, after all. the only treatment he accepted was that of extreme and utmost respect. but for you, he’d let it slide. he was more than willing to play into your little game for as long as you liked if it meant spending more time with you, yet he wasted no time diving back for another kiss. his hands travelling between your legs and cupping your mound until he was rewarded with a breathy moan.

“if my lady asks, then my lady shall get.”

when pantalone sunk two thick fingers in you, you pulled away from the kiss abruptly and fell back on the pillows. he curled them at just the right spot. mimicking the come hither gesture while his thumb paid attention to your clit, cooing out sweet words to help you reach your high. you saw stars flutter before you then at the pleasure. pantalone’s pace kept going faster that your juices began to pool at his palm, your legs closing itself to shy away from the impending orgasm but he was having none of it.

one strong arm pushed your leg flat on the bed till you were reduced into a panting mess. chest coated with sweat despite the biting cold, you let the hand covering your mouth fall beside you. if there was anything pantalone asked of you in bed, it was that you let him know how good he made you feel.

not only did his flutter his ego, but it drove him to make you feel even better. and when he saw your eyes rolling at the back of your head, felt your inner thighs quivering as your abdomen tightened, pantalone immediately pulled his fingers out.

you were about to complain for refusing your orgasm when pantalone’s lips suddenly latched onto your neck, the empty feeling in your cunt now replaced by a thickness that could only belong to pantalone. you moaned at the pleasurable intrusion. nails scratching down his back and relishing in the glorious image of his back muscles flexing with each slow thrust to get you accustomed to his length—pantalone’s girth too thick that it left a slight sting.

soon, the pain ebbed away with a few gentle roll of his hips and his hands worshipping your tits.

“fuck,” he chuckled under his breath, “you feel stellar. i don’t think i’ll ever get used to this.”

“you should. i’ll be coming back here more often than you think.”

pantalone leaves one last nip at your neck before his arm rested at the side of your head, his fingers caressing your skin with a butterfly touch. once his fingers found home in your hips, pantalone’s lips tilted upwards into a mischievous smirk. “yeah?” inch by inch, he pulled out until only his pulsing tip was left sucked in by your walls. “for professional reasons, i suppose?”

“purely business as always but that can cha—”

with one swift thrust back inside you, the wind was knocked out your chest. rendering you speechless was his cue to fuck you as he pleased—taking note of your command to fuck you so hard you had to limp back home. while the chivalrous man inside of him told him it wouldn’t be such a good idea since he had no idea where you lived, and he didn’t want your journey back home to be a dreadful one, he also took pride at the thought you would be reminded of him with every step you take. your thighs would burn and sitting down would be a menace. his cum would leak out of your tight pussy each time you made a small move.

groaning, pantalone pulled his cock out and grabbed you by the arms. he didn’t give you time to think when he’d flipped your body. head pressed flat on the pillows and your thighs grabbed by strong hands to jut your butt out to him. no more words could be spoken as you let out garbled moans and whimpered his name over and over again, pleading for pantalone to go harder. go faster.

and who was he to say no?

pantalone gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises, determined that remnants of your passionate with him would traverse beyond lands he wouldn’t dare cross. his punishing thrusts were what pushed you to the edge, hands fisting his sheets hard enough to leave wrinkles. the lewd aroma of sex filled the numbing air of frost. your loud moans echoed and mixed along with his deep grunts at every instant you pushed your hips back to meet along with his. each deep drive of his cock was sure to mold the shape of him to your pussy. and he’d be lying if he didn’t grow harder at the thought only he could fuck you like this. only he could see you arch your back and call out his name so sinfully like this and this moment was meant only for him.

“how much i’d fuckin’ pay to have this pussy again,” pantalone snickered before delivering a harsh smack to your bum. you did most of the work now by wiggling your butt, body moving forward then backward as your walls fluttered around his thickness. the sight of you fucking yourself onto him was so vulgar that pantalone fell forward, hands reaching under to fondle your tits. “you comin’, baby? can feel you squeezing tight around me—fuck.”

“yes, yes, yes,” you were mindlessly babbling at this point. hands joining pantalone’s as he tweaked your nipples between your fingers and you cried out, your pussy sucking him in that pantalone drew a sharp gasp behind you.

as you came, pantalone’s whole body tensed before you felt his thick cum explode in your womb. the both of you collapsed on the bed; pantalone quick to move to the side as to not crush you while his softening cock left the confines of your heat. wincing, your legs remained open as you felt the cold breeze contrast with pantalone’s warm cum seep out of your cunt—leaving pantalone to rub his fingers on your slit while you tried to catch your breath.

staring up onto the high ceiling, your eyes began to feel heavy with sleep. the heat emanating from pantalone’s body had never been more welcoming, and the calming scent of his body wash was lulling you into slumber. and oh, you could have the best sleep of your life here in his king sized bed and thick duvets if only you didn’t want to get caught by the other harbingers fucking around with their comrade.

no, you valued your life much more than the tempting call of sleep.

“i... i gotta go.”

“so soon?”

“yep,” grimacing as you sat up, you reached for a towel pantalone prepared at his night stand every time you were bound for delivery and cleaned yourself up. legs aching and cunt still reminiscing the pleasure of having him fuck you into oblivion. the whole time, you could feel pantalone’s piercing gaze on you as he rested his face onto his palm, elbows bent and posing like a greek god—eyes narrowed sans the glasses whilst he burned the shape of your figure at the back of his mind. immensely flattering, his attention was, and you didn’t miss the way his cock began to harden once more as you fixed your tits back to your bra. “pantalone. we’re not having a second round as much as i’d like to.”

“i take no offense,” the man offered an easy smile, “this can always be a promise of a second time.”

“you can hold onto that. i might even return in two night’s time.”

“two nights? i didn’t ask you to get me anything—” the knowing smile you wore let pantalone know your next visit would be... less professional this time around. less professional settings meant there’d be no need for you to rush returning back home, and pantalone proudly sat up to plop his glasses back on. “i’ll clear my schedule for you then.”

mock saluting him, you winked.  “till the next time, my lord.”

“i will patiently await you, my lady.”

#pantalone x reader #pantalone x reader smut #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #pantalone x you smut #pantalone smut #pantalone genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin impact pantalone smut #genshin impact pantalone x reader smut #pantalone x fem! reader smut #🖤.after dark #not sft

[theonewiththefanfics]

Dare to Hope, Dare to Dream (Part 1/?)

Synopsys: For three years now, Astarion and his love have been relegated to living in the shadows as he lost his ability to walk in the sun. But one day hope is reignited, and the vampire can't help but reminisce how he got where he is now.

Pairing: Astarion x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: violence, abuse, talks of SA (if there is anything else that should be tagged, please do let me know)

Word count: 3240

A/N: I have not played Baldur's Gate 3 (I don't own a PS or a PC where to play it. all of this is based on the info gathered online and through Neil's own gameplay etc. Please be kind :) )

There had been a time in Astarion’s life when all he knew was pain. Physical. Emotional. Mental. Pain.

Two hundred years could be simply wrapped up with one word – abuse. What he wanted didn’t matter, what he thought meant nothing, all Astarion was reduced to was a piece of meat to lure victims for his master.

He was flayed for the most minor things, starved and entombed; he had his skin carved apart and then told to lay on his ruined back just to appease the vile tastes of the vampire he was sired to.

But now… now Astarion knew nothing but peace.

In a house which had been rebuilt from top to bottom, walls coloured cream and accented with gold to bring in as much light as he could, he got to live out his life in complete and utter bliss. He never expected to create a home for himself, never expected to live long enough to know what peace meant. Every second of his life had been shrouded by Cazador and his looming presence, like a dark cloud over the summer sky, but the vampire was long gone. Astarion no longer had to watch over his back whether a snap of a twig would be a boar or his old master.

Now the snaps of twigs meant a warm fire being lit in the hearth, a soft body curling against his as they enjoyed their time together.

That was another thing he never thought of having – someone who cared for him. Astarion was aware that years ago, there had been two loving elves, who’d cherished him, loved and worried for him. They called him Astarion for he was their “little star”. From time to time, he did wonder whatever happened to his parents, but then he thought of who he was now, what he was, and pushed those wandering thoughts away. Maybe one day he’d be strong enough to seek them out, but for now, he would enjoy the start of his new life with his love. His fearless leader. His Y/N.

As she lay against his chest, her back to him, he couldn’t help but be grateful for this crazy human to have entered his life. It was that damned tadpole that’d started to push the domino tower over, but it had been her that toppled the pieces that still threatened to stay standing. And despite all the horrors they’d had to go through, he would willingly put himself in the line of fire if it meant finding her once more.

Though as much peace as he had, not all of it was perfect to Astarion’s chagrin. He’d killed Cazador, slain him with his own hands, yes, but as Y/N had begged him to not ascend, pulling him away from the dark urge, the tadpole had been the only thing keeping him walking in the soon. And soon enough, it had to be eradicated as well, unless he wanted to turn into a mind flayer.

It hurt, that realisation as when he stood at the port and felt the sun kiss his skin, but where he’d come to relish in the warm feeling, it was now poison, turning him to ash, making him resign to live his life in the shadows of the night once more.

For two hundred years he’d been deprived of day, and the pain of losing that was even worse than the pain of the sun blistering his body. Tears had sprung out of their own volition and he dashed to hide, raising his cloak and trying to keep any of the rays at bay. As he ran for cover, quick steps followed behind, and when he curled in a ball behind some crates, body rocking back and forth, gentle arms had wrapped around him, a dark cloak pulled over their heads.

Astarion had already accepted to have to spend his life alone, he’d never make Y/N go with him to live like a spawn, but he wasn’t alone. Sure, they had created a bond he had hoped would last well after their adventures, but with the issue of walking in the sun back on the table, he knew it was too large of an ask. To give up one's life in the sun and forever live in greys and blacks – Astarion would never request Y/N such a thing.

Even as she adjusted the material over their heads, he stared up at her, trying to memorise each and every feature for the last time. He was prepared for the heartbreak. As painful as it would be to go on alone, the thought of Y/N happy and thriving would be enough to staunch his bleeding undead heart.

And yet, when he tried to say goodbye, tried to ask for one last kiss, she knocked him on the back of the head before pulling him in a bone-crushing hug.

“You stupid vampire,” Y/N muttered against the skin of his neck. “Where you go, I go. The sun doesn’t matter.”

Astarion wanted to argue, to tell her he didn’t deserve her giving up her life for him, but she silenced him with a gentle press of her lips.

“You love me, right?”

“More than anything,” came his sure reply, tears still rolling down his cheeks, and his hands clutching at her waist.

“Then please believe it when I say I love you. I want to spend my life, however long it may be with no one but you. Where doesn’t matter, as long as we are together.”

Once again, Astarion was ready to argue, but with a single shake of her head, Y/N silenced him. “You told me I cannot make decisions for you. But you can’t make decisions for me either. I want this.” She cupped his face between her loving palms. “I. Want. You.”

And that sort of settled the argument. The guilt still gnawed at Astarion from the inside out whenever he saw how tired Y/N got as she had to adjust to a new sleeping schedule, the couple of months while moving from a life of day to a life of night made his heart ache in sorrow. And the moments when he caught a glimpse of her on their balcony, the last rays of the day beaming down onto her body, making her glow like a deity seemed like a cruel reminder of what Astarion had conscripted Y/N to.

But she never complained. She never even mentioned how much she must miss the world when it wasn’t bathed in shadows. Instead, Y/N always turned to him with the brightest of smiles, one that could rival the burning star in the sky itself, and it made all his doubts vanish to some secluded corner of his mind.

At that moment though, Astarion rearranged himself in the settee, a large book in his hand as he studied embroidery patterns while Y/N ventured off only whoknowswhere.

It had been her idea he should look into tailoring not only as a pastime activity but as a profession. His eye for detail and fashion was unmistakable, and well, it gave him something to do, something to occupy his mind, and, potentially, once he gave into Y/N’s pestering, he could be persuaded into opening up a full-blown business. But for now, Astarion simply entertained the idea and turned to studying new patterns and fabrics.

For the better part of an hour, his darling had lounged with him, discussing what threads would suit best with what colours before disappearing between the rows of the library.

When the larger renovation of the house had been completed, and they at least had a bedroom and a bathroom, the two had taken on a project to present to the other. Astarion had taken it upon himself to convert the rooftop into a beautiful garden with blossoms that would bloom under the moonlight, having scoured the markets and paid ridiculous amounts of money for the bioluminescent flowers, while Y/N had decided to forego having a ballroom and turned it into a library for Astarion.

It’d been a gift unlike any other, and he’d cried the day she finally pushed open the large oak doors to reveal shelf after shelf, row after row of books. She knew how much he loved them, and how, especially now that he’d been robbed of experiencing the world to its fullest, books would take him on adventures across the universe, he couldn’t do so himself.

But what had brought him down on his knees was a large painting placed right above the entrance, and in the commission were the two of them, grinning at one another, Astarion’s lips pulled up in the widest smile, his vampire fangs on full display while Y/N had her arm wrapped around his waist, beautiful smile lines adorning her eyes and mouth.

For the first time in two centuries, Astarion had been able to see himself, and to have been depicted with such love and happiness gleaming on his face as he gazed at his lover was the only way he wished to be remembered in life as well.

With their painted twins watching over the little sanctuary, Astarion flipped a page, his scarlet eyes looking at the golden painting of the flowery embroidery pattern on a long white dress, and his chest constricted. It was something he so desperately wanted to see Y/N in one day if only he could step over his fears and propose when his sensitive ears picked up the sounds of creaking wood, small grunts and huffs, and then a loud thump from somewhere deep in the library.

“I’m okay!” Y/N’s voice echoed through the room, and Astarion sighed, closing the book.

“My darling, I would like for our lives together to be as long as possible.” He ventured deeper between the rows of shelves, finally coming up on Y/N who was scrambling from the floor. “But you and your incessant need to maim yourself seems to be quite the hindrance to my plans.”

How his clumsy human had been the one to become the leader of their rag-tag group while searching for a way to rid themselves of the mind-flayer tadpoles, was beyond Astarion, seeing as Y/N tripped and fell over every single pebble in her way. Even on thin air sometimes.

He extended a pale palm, and she took it with a soft smile. Just as she was ready to let it go and dust herself off, Astarion pulled her into his chest, pressing a gentle, but passion-filled kiss to her lips. “Please do refrain from doing things that might end up with you getting hurt. I rather like having you around.”

Y/N rolled her Y/E/C eyes at his dramatics, but nevertheless gave him a sweet peck. “I didn’t maim myself, I just took a little tumble.”

Instantly worry and guilt roiled through his stomach, no doubt showing on his face by the looks of her softening gaze. “Did I drink too much from you this morning?”

“No.” She cupped his cheeks, brushing a thumb over some unruly hairs of his brow. “My Star, you know you could never hurt me. You took what you needed, and you know I’d stop you if I felt it was too much.”

“I just…” he sighed, eyes cast to the ground.

“Star,” Y/N whispered, taking his chin between her fingers, and making him glance up at her. “I fell because my foot slipped. Not because I fell unwell after you fed from me. I am truly alright.”

Astarion took in a deep breath, eyes trailing along her neck where he could still see the faint marks of his fangs. Nothing like the brutal marks on his own left by Cazador who just wanted to inflict as much damage, to mark him as his spawn, but gentle pinpricks, not even her skin was raised.

“Okay.” He nodded. “I trust you.” And he sealed the promise with a kiss, Y/N humming in content against his cold lips. “But do tell me, what was so important you had to crawl all the way up there?” He surveyed the large bookshelf where on the very top row, he could see an empty spot.

“This.” Y/N untangled herself from Astarion’s hold, leaning down to pick up the book she’d fallen to the ground with, dusting off the cover with her hand. “I was looking for this one romance novel I remember getting ages ago, but when I was passing by these shelves, it almost seemed to be… I dunno… calling out? Whispering to me? There was this pull, and I just had to get it?”

Astarion sighed, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Have we learned nothing about strange things calling our names and not responding?”

“It’s why I have you.” Y/N’s smile was saccharine, eyes full of mischief. “You’re my impulse control.”

“Well, clearly I’m doing a shitty job of that.”

“Oh relax,” she waved him off. “What’s the worst a magical book could do?”

“Famous last words,” Astarion muttered under his breath, but clearly there wasn’t anything he could do to dissuade Y/N from seeing whatever it was through. “You could have at least asked for help, you know. You remind me of it all the time.”

She gave him the most ferocious glare she could muster, scowling over her shoulder and Astarion had to suppress a laugh behind tightly pinched lips. “Just because I am shorter than you, does not mean I am incapable of getting one damned book.”

“I never said you couldn’t. Just that you might be… vertically challenged… with some balance issues.”

Y/N pointedly ignored the comment and opened the book.

Astarion poked her cheek with his nose, but she didn’t budge, eyes spitefully trained on the pages she was flipping through. “A silence treatment, really, my dear?”

She just tilted her head and hummed.

“Fine,” the vampire condeced. “If that is how you wish to play this, I have no qualms about getting down and dirty.” And his fingers were instantly pressing against Y/N’s ribs.

A sharp intake of breath invaded his ears before she began twisting and turning away from him, uncontained laughter ripping through the silence of the house.

“Alright, alright, I give,” Y/N managed to get out through a fit of laughter. “You win!”

A self-satisfied smile bloomed on Astarion’s face as he twisted her to face him. “And what exactly is my prize?”

“No vinegar added to your wine.” She lightly jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow.

“You wound me, my darling,” Astarion put a hand against his chest, before resuming the position he was in before, pulling Y/N’s back to him in a tight embrace.

She just hummed, reopening the book he’d taken her attention away from. “That’s what you get for doling out backhanded insults.”

“My darling, I would never dare insult the love of my life, let alone backhandedly. If anything, I do it face to –,”

Y/N’s gasp of wonder interrupted Astarion mid-sentence. “Where did you get this?”

His white brows furrowed, as he glanced over her shoulder at the large tome in her hands where the picture she was gazing at seemed to be glowing. “I didn’t get this.”

“Oh, come on.” He could practically feel the eye roll. “You don’t have to lie to me. You and I both know our house has been paid. And not by our own money.”

“My darling, I would never deceive you about my looting ways.” Astarion chuckled. “Believe me, you would be the first person to know of my new… gains, but this – this isn’t something I found. And I do think I would remember if I did.”

The library might have been a gift from Y/N, but Astarion knew of every single book in it, he knew the row and the place where to find it. Not once in the three years since they had lived at their home, had he seen such a tome.

Y/N’s brows furrowed as she inspected it, on instinct, Astarion from where he’d perched his chin on her shoulder, pressed a gentle thumb between the worry lines, trying to smooth them out. He didn’t like it when she worried. She was supposed to be happy, content, smiling and laughing like in the painting of the two, though as inferior as it was in showcasing her true beauty. The time for worries was over.

“Maybe we should contact Gale?” Y/N mussed, closing the book and glancing over the cover before flipping it open again. “He could probably figure out what this is. If you didn’t put this here, and I for one, most definitely didn’t, it might be up his alley.”

Astarion groaned at the mention of the wizard. “My darling, you know better than anyone magical items and Gale,” he gagged on the name, “do not mix. He’d probably eat it before telling us anything useful about what’s in it or where it’s come from.”

“Get over it, will you?” She slapped his arm lightly, soft laughter escaping her lips. “It’s been years by now, and I’ve gotten you so many other pairs of boots.”

“The boots are the smallest of slights, darling.” Astarion pressed a kiss to the top of Y/N’s head and hid his nose in her hair. “I still remember how he tried to romance you, so I will be petty for as long as I wish to about anything I want to when it comes to that git. He tried to make you his.” His words were almost a whine of a petulant child. “When your heart was already mine. And I don’t share.

“Yes, my Star, I am very well aware of that.” Y/N chuckled, as he slowly swayed them to a song only he could hear, but both of them stopped as if frozen by a spell when her fingers turned the page.

There on the left side of the opening, a gorgeous image covered the paper by a peculiar image. On the top half of it was depicted the night sky, stars twinkling all around while the sun, not the moon, had been painted in gold so bright it almost seemed to glow and just underneath the sun a flower bloomed in full. On the bottom half was a flipped mirror image of the scene – the same flower only closed while the sky above it was that of a bright blue day and where the sun should have been, glowed a pale moon.

As his eyes scanned the drawings, they flitted to the right page as well. It wasn’t intricate, there weren’t any weaving designs around the edges, completely nothing else apart from twelve lines split apart in fours, written in a language Astarion couldn’t read, but there was something about the picture that made his chest squeeze and mind reel.

Hope. That was the feeling tightening around his heart. Hope of what the picture could mean – a flower of darkness blooming in the day and resting at night. A creature of night like him living a life in the sun.

“You know, you are always right, my love,” he mumbled as Y/N dragged a careful almost reverent finger along the paper, no doubt her mind coming to the same conclusion. “Maybe we should contact the wizard.”

When she turned around to face Astarion, his breath caught in his throat for such undeniable hope glimmered in her eyes. “I’ll write to him right now.”

Tags:

Everything tags: @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @m-a-t-91 @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @lestersglitterglue @im-squished @strangersstranger

A/N: So Tumblr is imposing text lenght now.... wtf... or is that just me? I was going to put this in a one-shot, but now I have to split it apart, so this is Part 1 or who knows. This man made of pixels on a screen is ruining my life. I want him now ! (with his consent, of course)

#astarion #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #astarion ancunin #astarion imagine #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x y/n #astarion angst #astarion fluff #astarion ancunin x reader #astarion ancunin imagine #astarion ancunin x you #neil newbon #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion smut #astarion x reader fluff #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction

[moeitsu]

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Hi everyone! I have a new Arthur x female!OC fic I've been working on that's posted up on Ao3, so I figured I would share it here as well. Please let me know what you think! This story is currently still on-going :)

Ao3  Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9 Ch.10

Summary: Kate McCanon, a young widow from the north, meets outlaw Arthur Morgan. When the two cross paths she discovers a complex man wrestling with his own sense of right and wrong. As their unlikely bond deepens, Kate becomes determined to guide Arthur towards a brighter path, even as tensions rise within his gang led by the enigmatic Dutch van der Linde. With danger lurking at every turn, Kate must navigate treacherous territory to protect those she holds dear, all while finding love in the most unexpected of places. Tags: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character, Widowed, Original Character, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby Arthur Morgan, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Chapter 1 - The Frost Gleams Where The Flowers Have Been

1890

Kate had never fancied herself a skilled woodworker. While she had lent a hand to her husband in constructing a barn, her role mostly entailed passing him tools and bringing him his lunch. But as she stood amidst the sawdust, tears streaking down her cheeks, she grappled with the daunting task ahead. She lacked both the sufficient wood and the patience to craft two coffins. Thus, the inevitable decision emerged: they would be laid to rest together.

The Reverend's suggestion to cremate the bodies, emphasizing the need to eradicate the disease completely, fell upon deaf ears. The mere thought of reducing her beloved husband and precious baby girl to ashes felt abhorrent to Kate. Instead, she harbored a tender hope that one day, perhaps, they would blossom into a magnificent Willow tree.

Amidst the melancholy chore, the vibrant symphony of birdsong provided a bittersweet backdrop, reminiscent of the lullabies she once crooned to her infant daughter. With a sorrowful melody humming in her heart, Kate toiled diligently, her hands blackened with grime, each wipe across her tear-stained cheeks a testament to her grief. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting their modest farm in a golden hue, Kate's work pressed on.

Night descended swiftly, cloaking the world in shadows that seemed to stretch for an eternity. Kate, perched upon her porch swing, found no solace in slumber. Her vigil was solemn, her gaze never wavering from the rough-hewn coffins that cradled her entire world within their confines.

With the break of dawn, the Reverend returned, his disapproval evident, yet tempered by resignation. Together, in a somber silence, they labored to fashion a final resting place. By mid-afternoon, the grave stood ready, a solemn abyss awaiting its occupants. With the Reverend's assistance, Kate tenderly lowered her cherished husband and daughter into the earth's cold embrace.

As dusk settled, the Reverend offered prayers and parting words before taking his leave. Left alone in her sorrow, Kate felt the weight of despair bearing down upon her. In a world forged by men and seemingly devoid of solace for a solitary widow, she found herself with no recourse but to depart.

Beneath the twilight sky, the epitaph etched upon their shared gravestone bore silent witness to her profound loss:

Here Lies My Beloved Noah, And Our Beautiful Daughter, Lorena.

May God Keep Their Souls.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

1899 

As the sun rose over the horizon, casting its golden rays across the sprawling expanse of Emerald Ranch, Kate found herself amidst the ebb and flow of another day's labor. Nine years had slipped by since the tragic loss of her husband and daughter, a span of time marked by wandering footsteps and the pursuit of odd jobs on her journey westward. 

She had once heard her father say they had family in California, he had many sisters but only kept in touch with one. Kate wrote to her after the death of her husband, seeking asylum with a relative with nowhere else to go. Her Aunt wrote her back and gave her condolences, she said Kate would be welcome with open arms. 

However, the last she heard of her Aunt was 7 years ago. But still, she continued west. She had come too far and been through too much to stop now. What she hoped to find in the valleys of California, she did not know anymore. Over the years she became more cowboy and less of a woman, her once soft hands now calloused by years of labor. The untamed plains and cold hard ground had become both her refuge and her bed. 

She came to Emerald Ranch only a week ago, her boss; Seamus, was reluctant to hire a stranger, let alone a woman, to help on the ranch. Kate assured him she was cheap labor and was only looking for shelter and a place to rest until she was on the move again. Kate was no stranger to odd jobs, she took any work she could get and saved as much as she could. But she was no criminal. 

She heard Seamus talking to two men as she filled the troughs with clean water. The gentlemen said they were new in town and looking for a partnership, one in which they could both make money. 

“Look I ain't no idiot, and I don't trust folks outta the blue. If you want to work together then you're gonna have to prove to me you’re worth my time.” Her boss's voice raised above the usual noise of the barn animals. 

“Of course! We’re only interested in a partnership, just looking to make a little extra money.” Carried the voice of an older gentleman. 

“No doubt. I do interesting very well. It's trusting that I don't do so well.” her boss answered, still not convinced by the two strangers.

“Look at us, we’re honest as the day is long,” said the other man with cheer. 

“You really want us to prove ourselves to this clown Hosea?” said the other voice, sounding much younger than his partner. 

Seamus scoffed, “good day to you, Hosea.” 

“N-now wait a minute Seamus. Arthur can be rough, and quick with his tongue, but I swear you can trust him, you can trust me.” Hosea pleaded, following Seamus to the side of the barn. Kate now had a clear view of the new “business partners”. 

Kate didn't know Seamus very well, but she could tell he was an honest enough man. Wise for his years, and liked to keep his nose out of trouble. “I’m an old man Hosea,” he began, “and you know why I ain’t dead yet?” 

“Because you don't trust idiots,” Hosea finished.

“Exactly.”

“We’re not idiots, Seamus. Let us prove it to you.” Hosea had an air of confidence, he wasn't some runaway bum looking to make a quick buck. He was serious about a partnership. Although Kate wouldn't say the same for his partner, who loomed behind them like a panther ready to pounce. 

“Okay…I’ll tell you what, old Bob Crawford and his boys just bought a beautiful stolen stagecoach from up north. It’s in their barn. Now you go get that,” he looked around for anyone who might be listening to his scheming, “then we can work together.” He said quietly, placing a hand on Hosea’s shoulder. 

“Who’s Old Bob Crawford?” inquired Hosea.

“An acquaintance of mine…well, not just an acquaintance. He’s my cousin, by marriage.” Seamus explained. 

“Oh so now we’re meddlin’ in your family business?” Arthur boasted with skepticism. 

Hosea waved him off and continued speaking, “Where is he located?”

“Now hang on a moment, you boys could very easily take this coach and sell it yourselves for a pretty penny,” Seamus began. 

“So you comin’ with us? I thought you didn't want to be involved in shady business?” Arthur spoke up again. 

“Heavens no, if my cousin saw me it would be my death. I'm sending someone with you, as collateral.” Seamus turned around and saw Kate already watching them, he waved her over. 

Arthur shook his head disapprovingly, “nah, I don't do babysitters Seamus.” 

Kate was just as skeptical about her part in this, she told Seamus she was looking for honest work, and robbing his cousin certainly falls out of that line. 

“She’s not babysitting . She’ll take you to my cousin's farm and let you do the robbing. Kate has been working for me for a few days now and she’s tougher than she looks.” Seamus said turning to Kate, “I want you to make sure that stage coach gets back to me. You don't need to take part in the robbery.” 

“You’re fine with them robbing your cousin?” She spoke in a hushed tone so only Seamus could hear.

“By marriage,” he added, “and yes, I would love it. The man’s been a thorn in my ass for years.” He said amused.

She nodded in acknowledgement and turned to get a good look at the two strangers. One was indeed much older than the other, with cropped white hair peeking out from under his hat. The other gentleman was tall and burly, and he hid his eyes under the brim of his hat. He seemed wary of strangers and kept both hands resting on his gun belt. 

“Let me get my horse saddled and I’ll meet you boys at the intersection leading out of town.” She spoke, Hosea nodded and was already making his way to his horse. Arthur stood for a moment eyeing the woman, no doubt playing the intimidation tactic. But Kate had seen far scarier men than him in her days. “Y'know the quicker we get this done the quicker you fellas get paid.” She noted.

Arthur scoffed and finally followed Hosea to his horse, “don't need no damn babysitter,” he grumbled kicking dust.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate made quick work of saddling her black Hungarian roan, she calls Lorena. After her infant daughter. In a moments pass she was on the dirt road leading out of Emerald Ranch and toward Carmody Dell. She waved for the two men to follow her, they stayed behind her a short distance and made no effort for small conversation.

However, she overheard snippets of their own conversation as they went, “I thought you wanted me to be the strong arm? That's usually how it goes,” Arthur spoke.

“Yes but..” Hosea hesitated, lowering his tone a little, “you know how this works.”

“Cmon Hosea that fellers a joke, he don't even trust us enough to handle it ourselves. Now we got a chaperone.” Arthur complained loudly, at least he’s not calling me a babysitter , Kate thought. 

“All the better, he won't cause us any problems. And I cant blame the guy for sending the girl. Two strangers looking for quick money? Hell, I’d want assurance too.” Hosea answered, “besides, if he’s sending protection that means there’s big money to be made. Seamus wants his cut.” 

Kate came to the same conclusion, up until now Seamus had given her the usual ranch-hand tasks. Feeding and cleaning mostly. This was very different, there must be good money for this stage coach. 

“I guess you’re right,” Arthur muttered.

Hosea mumbled something back to Arthur about “hanging up their hats” if they couldn't finish a job as easy as this. They laughed and began chatting about their travels in Emerald ranch, Kate tuned them out and began humming a song to her horse. 

Her singing always pleased her horse and calmed the girl’s nerves. She was a strong and fierce steed, but jumpy and needy like a baby sometimes. Kate thought naming her horse after her daughter would bring her closure, instead, she was almost convinced that her daughter's spirit lived on in Lorena somehow. In all ways except biological, her horse was her baby.

Carmody Dell was a short distance north past the train tracks and Fort Wallace, Kate had passed it once before. They rode at a steady pace, the men behind her never coming too close. She wondered for a moment what their story was, and why they needed money so bad. Perhaps they were travelers like her, maybe they even had a caravan. She entertained the thought of traveling with a group again, but shuddered at the memories. Her previous caravan adventures had not ended well. 

Once the ranch was in view she slowed and allowed the boys to catch up on either side of her. She led them to a grassy clearing off the road. 

“You should continue on foot from here, I’ll stay behind with your horses.” She said dismounting. The two of them nodded and dismounted their horses, Kate was almost surprised to hear no objections from Arthur. 

“C'mon son, let's see what we’re dealing with here.” Hosea commented walking towards a large rock in front of the house. 

“Son”, so they are family . She mentally noted. Arthur gave his horse a pat, “be a good girl for the lady” he said, tipping his hat towards Kate. She was slightly taken aback by the sudden politeness.

She busied herself with the horses for a bit while the men laid out their plan, she gave Hosea and Arthurs horse a treat and was about to start brushing his horse when he approached her again. Startled, she backed away from his mare, she didn't want him to think she was snooping in his saddle bags. 

“You can keep brushin’ her, she loves attention,” he half smiled reaching up and petting her snout. “I just came to tell ya’ we’re gonna wait till it gets dark. Less chance of getting caught that way.” 

“Smart,” she replied, for whatever reason she suddenly felt very shy in his presence. 

He stood a few feet away from her and she could see more of his features. He was around her age. He had short dirty blond hair under his leather hat, and bright blue/green eyes. Her eyes lingered over his body. He was big too, more than a foot taller than her and well fed and muscular. His bicep had to be the size of her head alone, and she could tell by the fabric of his button down he had a bit of a belly hidden behind his gun belt. 

“What’s her name?” His voice broke through her awkward silence. 

“Who?” She asked and looked back at him. 

He chortled, “the black beauty you got over there,” he nodded to her horse. 

Oh, duh! “Her name is Lorena, she also loves attention but she’s nervous around new people.” Kate answered, still a bit lost in her thoughts. 

Arthur made a clicking sound with his tongue, reaching out a hand and slowly walking toward her horse. “It’s alright girl,” he cooed while she sniffed his palm. He pulled out a peppermint and gave it to her, which Lorena happily accepted. 

Kate smiled at the interaction, “you introduce yourself to my horse before me?” she teased. 

“My apologies ma’am,” he turned to face her, “names Arthur Morgan.”

“Nice to meet you Mr. Morgan, I’m Kate McCanon.” She reached out her hand and he shook it. His grip was firm but polite. 

“Likewise, Miss.McCanon. That’s Belle your brushin’, and that’s Silver Dollar.” He pointed at Hosea’s horse. “I saw this beauty when we first rode into Emerald ranch, had no idea she was yours tho.” He was talking about her horse again, “told myself I’d inquire about buying her if she was available.” 

Kate smiled at the affection he was showing for her horse, she knew Lorena was a beautiful mare. She often received compliments on the road, and many have offered to pay for her purebred. 

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but she’s not for sale.” 

“Well I can certainly see that,” he laughed, “she seems happy though. You must take real good care of her.” He said, his attention still on her mare as he scratched under her chin. 

“You some kind of horse breeder Mr. Morgan?” Kate asked. 

Arthur laughed, “no no. Nothing like that, though sometimes I wish I was.” He smiled as he said it but Kate noticed there was a sadness in his tone. “I just think they’re neat is all.” 

They had only just met, and while Arthur was not initially the most pleasant, she found it incredibly cute how enraptured he was by her horse. 

“I should probably also apologize for my rudeness earlier, it’s been a rough couple weeks for us and we uh- don’t always take too kindly to strangers.” Arthur took off his hat as he spoke and held it to his chest, a sincere gesture. 

Kate was shocked, the man she met at Emerald ranch not even an hour ago seemed like a completely different person than the man before her. His cold demeanor was gone, or at least reined in at the moment. 

“No apology needed Mr. Morgan. I understand,” She answered. “Although I wouldn’t call it rude, you were just skeptical. Rightfully so, can I ask what brings you to Emerald Ranch?” 

Arthur looked away from her as he spoke, choosing to focus on her horse. “We’re just stayin’ in the area for a few weeks. Passin’ through and tryna make money.” 

“By robbing stagecoaches?” Kate said in an amused tone, “you a bunch of outlaws or something?” She continued, half-joking. 

Arthur looked at her with surprise, “What? No, we uh- got laid off from the railway. Up-north. Just looking for money so we can find a place to settle down again. That’s all.” He looked away again, avoiding her gaze. 

“I’ll say it again, by robbing stagecoaches?” She kept her tone playful, but wasn’t entirely convinced by his story. But it felt good to be the intimidator.

“Wasn’t our idea, Seamus asked us to rob his cousin!” His voice rose slightly with anger. 

“By marriage,” Kate retorted. 

Arthur was about to speak again but only stared at her. 

“I’m just pulling your leg Mr. Morgan.” Kate laughed. “It’s no business of mine. I’m only passing through here, same as you. What you do here and how you earn your money is your business. As is mine.” 

Arthur scoffed, suddenly amused, did this woman just tease me?

He went to speak again before another voice interrupted them, “Arthur! Get over here!” Called Hosea. He pointed a finger at Kate as to say this isn’t over and walked away. 

Amused with herself, Kate grabbed an apple and sat down against a tree. Watching the sun set as she waited for the cover of night so the two men could pull off their heist. 

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate woke suddenly to the sound of horses moving. She quickly got up and looked in the direction of the ranch. Sure enough the stage coach was steadily moving down the path away from its place in the barn. She quickly mounted her horse and trotted over to them. 

“Nice work! Follow me back to Emerald Ranch and try to keep it in one piece.” She called up to Hosea who was driving the coach. With that she clicked her tongue and took off ahead of the coach at a steady but quick pace. Not wanting to get themselves caught. 

Before Hosea could crack the reins he looked to Arthur as he was about to get in the coach, “you ride ahead with her. I got this.” 

Arthur looked confused, “why wouldn’t I ride with you? The horses will follow.” 

Now Hosea was giving him an amused look, “I heard you with her earlier.” 

“And?” The cowboy replied slightly annoyed. 

“You’ve never fumbled our cover story so bad!” He quipped, “it was like listening to a child tell it!” 

Arthur shook his head, “now you’re playin’ match maker old man?” He teased, trying to hide his smile.   

“I’m just saying it wouldn’t kill you to go talk to her son."

Without another word Arthur nodded and dismounted the coach, getting into the saddle and riding off to catch up to Kate.

#arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x oc #arthur morgan x original female character #hurt/comfort #eventual smut #eventual romance #fluff #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #rdr2 #rdr2 community #hosea matthews #dutch van der linde #rdr2 fanfic #fanfic #ao3 link #fanfiction #archive of our own #wattpad

[eternalblqze]

perfection.

synopsis: in which, he ponders on the idea of the perfect embrace.

pairing: blade x gn!reader

tags: established relationship. fluff. mostly in blade’s pov. not proofread.

note: i love him SO much but i fear i did not do him enough justice UGHGHHG anyways first post (sorta) lets go

There was certainly no such thing as "perfect" in this world.

One couldn't say things were without flaws, because there would always be something wrong.

Perfection was only an illusion. A concept based purely on unattainable desires and lies to give someone a sense of fulfillment. It simply does not exist.

Blade knew this. He believed in it. Not even he considered death the perfect end. If anything, it was merely...relief of the suffering he's endured for centuries. But it did not mean it was perfect. In truth, it was far from it—he craved the sweet solace of death, but it could never be what he’d consider a satisfying end. 

No, he lost that privilege when he began to endure the constant cycle of agony and death, each rebirth chipping away at his sanity and eroding his memories. Even as he chases death, life is quick to follow, following him like an obnoxious shadow. They say one should live their life to the fullest, but this life was not one he could claim to be proud of, and it never would be.

At least, that is what he believed until he met you. 

He couldn’t fathom the idea of someone loving him. He, who has become nothing but a weapon, forged in the flames of never-ending life and from the ashes of disaster. He has lived for centuries, wielding a blade that was just as broken as his immortal spirit.

Not once did he ever imagine he’d find an emotion as foreign as love to get a grasp on him.

Each and every time he saw you, he swore he could feel his heart grow tight in his chest. And, for once, he had no desire to die. Where he previously longed for his breath to cease, he finds himself craving you—for you have become his oxygen. You, the fresh air that cleansed the darkest recesses of his shattered mind, penetrating the density of the chaos that rages on behind his crimson eyes.

Your touch was rejuvenating, a sweet relief to his aching soul. Time and time again, he finds himself craving your presence time and time again; yearning for the way you wrap your arms around him, connecting with him in ways he never knew were possible.

He had never believed in perfection, but he was beginning to think he was mistaken. You were perfect to him in every way, so perfect that he began to wonder; how did someone as damaged and imperfect as him come to deserve you?

As time passed by, he began to unravel the mystery that was you—and came to realize that perhaps you are not as perfect as he once thought. You had your own flaws, your own troubles and your own weaknesses. And that drew him in even further, eager to solve the intricate network of individual threads that you were composed of.

He wondered if you felt the same way. With your presence in his life, he was confronted with questions he had never considered before. Thoughts and habits that were unheard of for the cold and merciless Stellaron Hunter surged into his mind, plaguing his thoughts. Perhaps he would go as far as to say it bothered him more than the mara did, even as it continued to ravage his senses.

When you’d comment on how beautiful he looked; and how you loved his ruby eyes, he caught himself looking upon his reflection more often. He fails to see what you see in them. He never gave them much thought—the deep colour of his irises were a reflection of his strength and ambitions, but also his lust for revenge and blood of those he had eradicated from the face of this world. And yet, you loved him all the same.

He was not a man of many words. Verbal affirmations from him were a rare occurrence—it’s difficult to put his thoughts into words, to manifest his love for you into sentences that would touch your heart. Oftentimes, he resorted to showing it through his actions, with the way he encases you in his arms in a tranquil silence.

Neither you nor he were perfect, yet he desired nothing but perfection for you. It is what you deserved, after all. For someone who did not believe in perfection, it certainly occupied most of his thoughts…how troublesome.

Now…it was only a mere idea at first. An arbitrary thought that would come to pass, as all thoughts did in his chaotic headspace. 

What would be considered a perfect embrace? A perfect touch, a perfect…expression of intimacy.

Would it be soft and tender? Would it be firm? Would it elicit an immense feeling of joy? Tranquility? Comfort? A sense of security? Your touch was always one he’d crave, but it made him wonder if his embrace was enough for you. 

Even as you hold him now, his head resting on your chest—listening to the soft and steady rhythm of your heartbeat; he wondered if you felt the same way when he held you. The way you made his heart rate quicken in his chest, and the way that your presence alone was capable of cleansing the darkened clouds of his mind.

Perhaps this was the perfect embrace. 

Or can anything truly be considered “perfect”? What even was perfect, anyways? 

Maybe…there would never be a definitive answer, for people had different ideas and experiences. Something perfect to him could be flawed for another.

He closes his eyes, burying himself into the comforting scent of you that he has grown to adore.

…Well, perfect or not, he knew one thing for certain—his favourite embraces would always be ones shared with you.

And that was perfect enough for him.

reblogs with comments are appreciated :>

#[ ☁︎ ] rose.writes #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #blade x reader #blade x you #hsr blade #hsr blade x reader #blade imagines

[bullet-prooflove]

Matriarch - Filip 'Chibs' Telford x Reader

Tagging: @anime-weeb-4-life @redpoodlern @ravencrow83 @kishie8 @thelonewolfwillsurvive @thanossexual @nu1freakshow @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @jtelford @the-wandering-lunatic @darqchilddaydreamz @yourwinchesterbros @lexondeck @keyweegirlie @poppyrose33 @belovedbastardremus @trublu2u @thebaileybugle @ambassadortotrilliusprime @yvette22 @legally-a-bastard @thequeenoftheisleofavalon @joyfulfxckery @justreblogginfics

Companion piece to Punishment & Silver & Gold

You’re sitting at your desk, smoking a cigarette when Chibs enters your office. You look at the clock on the wall and realise it’s gone past midnight, you’re not sure when that happened. Time’s been fluid since you watched the light die in Galen’s eyes. You remember something similar happening when you’d killed your ex-husband.

He looks down at the body on your floor and you see the way his jaw tightens, the muscles in his shoulders tensing. It’s his job to keep you safe but you’ve managed to do that all by yourself. He’s old fashioned sometimes with his thinking, he has no illusions about being a white knight, but he hates the fact you’ve been forced to take action.

“Couldn’t have happened to a nicer scumbag.” He spits on the corpse before turning to face you. His eyes come to rest on the gun that sits in the space between the two of you, the one he had given you just in case. He had never dreamed that you would need to use it.

You offer him a cigarette from the cardboard carton on your desk and he removes one before using the gold Zippo to light it. He takes a drag before leaning against the wall, his gaze straying to the blood pool underneath Galen.

“You’re going to need a new carpet love.” He tells you. “There isn’t enough bleach in the world to get that up.”

Realistically it would be simpler to burn down the entire office, eradicate the evidence but that would bring the police calling and he thinks they probably hate you as much as they despise the club. It was the downside to being good at your job.

“The place needs refurbishing anyway.” You remark, tapping the ash from your cigarette into a silver ashtray. “I don’t think it will take Allie much convincing, she’s been wanting to change things up for a while.”

“I can get Juice and some of the guys on it, get rid of the body and the carpet but…” He trails off and you know that the ‘but’ is. It means that news of Galen’s death, the manner of it, spreads around the M.C like wildfire. Nobody would believe that Chibs had done this, it’s too personal.

“They need to see that I take care of my shit.” You state, blowing a stream of smoke out of your mouth and watching it evaporate into the air. “That I’m still taking care of their shit.”

Secrets is what it all came down to.

The Club’s secrets.

Galen had wanted to pluck each and every one of them out of your head and twist them to leverage his position with the M.C. Not a single one had passed you’re lips during your time together. He respected that, he’d told you, your loyalty. You couldn’t buy that shit, it was born out of love.

You weren’t sure when that had happened.

There were moments though, ones that stuck in your mind.

The look in Tig’s eyes when he told you about his girl, how proud he was of her whilst the two of you hammered out his investment into Cara Cara. The enquiry he’d made about making sure she received his share of the business in the event of his passing. He’d worried about that, you remember, making sure that she was taken care of, along with the two daughters he barely saw.

The taste of Bobby’s banana bread as he told you that his kid was better off not knowing him, that he had always been bad news, which was why he was on his third divorce. You knew a thing or two about making bad choices, you’d reminded him. He wouldn’t always be unlucky in love, especially not when he baked like that. His smile had warmed your heart.

Tara’s guardianship and adoption of the Able after you’d helped facilitate her marriage to Jax. You’d been invited to both the wedding and the subsequent adoption party. You remembered standing in the kitchen, talking to Juice about his weed shop when Jax had passed you baby Thomas for a minute because he’d had his hands full with Able. You think that was the moment it dawned on you how much trust they had in you, that they’d come to see you as one of them.

All of these things they weren’t just legal affairs; they were snippets of people’s lives. Important pieces that meant something deep to each and every one of them.

Strung up in that barn you had known that you could never let Galen have that. To him the M.C was a device to be wielded, a tool to build up his side business but to you they’d become a part of your life.

It would have been easy to relent. To divulge how the M.C were diversifying, making more money with legit businesses like porn and escorts than they ever had with gun running, which was why they were starting to pull out of the trade but the damage of revealing something like that…

It would have been catastrophic.

Noone would have blamed you, Tig had told you in the aftermath when he was helping Tara see to your wounds.

I would have, you’d responded.

You’re distracted as Chibs removes his phone from his pocket. You see him hesitate, his thumb hovering over the buttons before he looks at you helplessly.

“This will bind you to them.” He tells you, tilting his head towards Galen’s corpse. “After this there’s no going back, they’ll start looking to you. You’ll go from their lawyer to their matriarch.”

You understand what he’s saying, you’ve protected them once, allowing Galen to take his pound of flesh. This thing that you’ve done will reinforce the action, you’ve taken care of something that was very much a Club problem. Before his presidency, before killing Galen, you could have been viewed as collateral damage, an affiliate of the Club who been caught up in their mess but now…

You know how this looks. That they’ll see it as you defending them.

“Right now, you can walk away from me, from the club…” he trails off when he sees the look in your eyes. The glint of steel underneath all of that silk. “That was never going to happen was it?”

You shake your head.

“I didn’t want this for you.” He tells you honestly. “When I kissed you that night at my kitchen table, I had no idea we’d end up here.”

You know what he means. Him with the presidency, you standing along side of him, a part of the Club’s bloody history. Nobody could have foreseen this, the course of circumstances that has led you to this moment.

“Maybe it was always meant to happen.” You tell him stubbing out your cigarette before casting a glance at Galen’s corpse. “This feels like the beginning of a joke. What do you do with a dead Irish Man?”

He laughs, he can’t help it because it does. He feels that pressure in his chest relinquish as the edges of your mouth tip up into a smile. Anyone else would be horrified by what had happened here tonight but you’re anything but. He senses the relief in you, you’ve slayed another of your monsters, you can sleep easy knowing that Galen can never touch you again.

“I love you.” He finds himself saying.

He means it. He always has.  He’s just never been able to vocalise it until this moment. He’s never doubted your commitment to him, but accepting the Club, that’s always been at the heart of his reluctance. You don’t shy away from the life he leads; you embrace it. You understand that it’s part of him and now it’s a part of you too. It may not be what he envisioned but it’s the future the two of you are stepping into and he treasures it with every fibre of his being.

“I know.” You tell him, clasping his hand. “I’ve always known Filip.”

Love Chibs? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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#chibs telford x reader #chibs telford #chibs imagine #chibs x reader #filip chibs telford x reader #filip chibs telford #chibs sons of anarchy #soa chibs #filip telford #filip telford fanfiction #filip telford drabble #filip telford x reader #filip telford imagine

[virizona]

Rest and Reassurance

Pairing: Luis Serra x Reader (AFAB)

Warnings: None; all fluff. Potential spoilers for the game

Summary: After the events of Resident Evil 4, you, Leon, Ashley, and Luis escape to a safe house off the horrific island to rest and recuperate, awaiting extraction.

Word Count: 2,270

A/N: This has been sitting completed since like June, so time to post my first ever Luis Serra fic! Spanish is not my first language, but I am learning, so I'm open to any corrections on the Spanish sprinkled in here.

— 

It was a long jet ski ride away from the plague-infested island. At least it and the cult were reduced to ashes now.

The mission you and Leon Kennedy were sent on should have been a simple fetch quest: recover the President’s daughter, Ashley Graham. But, of course, things always had to go sideways. The three of you ended up infected with Las Plagas, the mind-controlling, body-disfiguring parasite. Turns out, the leader of Los Illuminados, Osmund Saddler, planned to inject Ashley with the parasite all along as a way to get to the President.

It was a long and grueling mission between locating Ashley, finding a cure, and stopping Saddler (not to mention a run-in with Leon’s old Major, Jack Krauser). But, there was a silver lining to it all: you met Luis Serra Nevarro.

Luis was a charmer through and through. He was flirtatious from the very first moment you were introduced to each other. You thought his advances would be more distracting, but they were honestly a welcoming reprieve from the constant fight or flight moments. What sealed your trust in the Spaniard however, was he was the one who knew how to cure your Las Plagas problem. A former Umbrella researcher, Luis was tricked into working for Saddler after he fled his previous employer. Holding onto his belief that people can change, Luis brought you, Leon, and Ashley to his lab where he held the cure: a radiation procedure that targeted and eradicated the parasite growing within your bodies.

To say you owed the man your life would be an understatement. You glanced at his stubbled face from where he rested over your left shoulder, hair blowing in the wind as you zipped across the water. His arms held snugly around your waist as you drove after Leon and Ashley’s water craft. The rising sun brought a pleasant warmth to your face, as if the world was showing you there was hope on the horizon.

— 

Disembarking from the jet skis, you followed Leon ashore. He was saying something about a safe house that Hunnigan located you could use, just until she could send in a helicopter for you all. 

It was well hidden within a forest a few miles inland. The hike was worth it alone for the chance to take a hot shower and sleep in a clean bed. The safe house was sparse, but it held all the necessary amenities: a kitchen, two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a tiny living space. Leon was quick to designate the bedrooms, one for you and Ashley to share and the other for him and Luis.

“Actually, Leon, I think I would feel better if you stayed in the room with me.” Ashley spoke up, sounding slightly embarrassed about her request. It wasn’t unreasonable though, the blonde man did protect and save her countless times in your efforts to escape the parasitic cult. It made sense she would feel safer sleeping with his presence in the room.

Leon opened his mouth to likely protest, but was cut off by Luis clapping his hands together once. “No problemo, mis amigos! Mi amor y yo can take the other room.” He flashed a grin that would have had you blushing if you hadn’t been solely focused on that much needed hot shower.

“You guys decide whatever, but I need a shower and then I’m going to sleep for at least 24 hours. Wake me when the chopper arrives.” You waved a dismissive hand as you made for one of the bathrooms. You caught the sound of a weary sigh from Leon as you left the front room.

— 

The hot water beating on your back felt heavenly after trudging through cold, rainy weather during most of the mission. You tipped your face up to the steady spray, sighing in relief as the grime ran off your body, pooling on the shower floor and into the drain. Now that you were no longer running for your life, exhaustion hit like a freight train and you had to steady yourself with a hand on the slick, tiled wall. You jolted as a knock on the bathroom door interrupted your peace.

“Mi amor, estás bien?” It was only Luis, his thick accent muffled by the barrier. “You’ve been in there for quite a while.”

“I’m fine.” You called out wearily. “Just tired is all.”

There was a long pause and you thought he was satisfied with that answer, except you never heard his retreating footsteps. Then, he spoke again. “May I come in?” You waited a few beats, taken slightly aback by his question and unsure how to answer. Luis continued talking. “I found some clean clothes for you.” You were a bit baffled as to how there was clothing stocked in the place, but you decided not to question it too much.

Taking a deep breath, you relented to the Spaniard’s offer. “Come in.” You turned your back to the semi-opaque shower door as a precaution as Luis entered the room. 

“Phew, you weren’t kidding about the hot shower!” He exclaimed as the steam and humidity hit him. His shoes clicked softly on the tile floor as he moved over to the bathroom sink, placing some folded clothes on the counter there. “I’ll leave them by the sink for you then get out of your hair.” You could practically hear the wry smile in his voice. 

Suddenly, the thought of being alone again clutched your chest like a vice. Just as Luis was about to step out of the room, you found your voice. “Wait, could you… could you stay a bit longer?” You hoped you didn’t sound too pathetic, especially after everything you went through, just as much as you hoped it wasn’t too weird of a request. You chanced a glance over your shoulder, peering at him through the fogged shower door. It was hard to tell, but he looked genuinely concerned.

“Sí mi amor, I can stay.”

—

Luis sat on the bathroom floor with his back leaning against the shower wall. Most of the time he spent in companionable silence, which was rather unusual for him. Perhaps he was exhausted like you were. Still, it made you ask, “estás bien, Luis?”

“Mi amor, I will always be fine with you by my side.” There was that charm again. It made you chuckle as you finally turned off the shower. 

Luis was immediately on his feet, towel in hand. You reached through the shower door, opening it just enough to take the towel from him. Murmuring your thanks, you briefly toweled most of the water off yourself before wrapping it around your torso, tucking the corner in just under your armpit. Stepping out, the tile floor was chilly on your feet. You suppressed a shiver as you came face to face with Luis.

He looked tired as you observed his face, though you couldn’t imagine you looked any better. Dark circles were forming under his eyes, his hair oily, and his skin grimy. You couldn’t bring yourself to care about any of that as you became trapped in his silvery stare. Hesitantly, Luis reached out a hand to tuck a damp strand of hair behind your ear. Ever so slightly, you leaned into his touch.

“Tienes sueño?” He asked, and you gave a nod, eyes drooping as his hand continued to linger on the side of your face. “Why don’t you go get comfortable and I’ll join you after I’ve had a turn to shower, hm?” The thought of sharing a bed with the Spaniard wasn’t lost on you.

“Leon actually agreed to stay in Ashley’s room?” You asked with a breathy laugh in disbelief, picturing the special agent begrudgingly agreeing. It was also your way of getting around asking the obvious and hopefully saving yourself from any embarrassment.

“He took some convincing, funnily more from me than la señorita, but he came around to the idea.” Luis chuckled as well as he passed the folded clean clothes into your arms. “Now go, I won’t be long.” His hands were suddenly on your lower back, gently pushing you out into the hall and in the direction of the bedroom. You glanced over your shoulder to see him wink before shutting the bathroom door.

Face feeling hot, you shuffled down to the bedroom. Once inside, and with no more distractions for the moment, your exhaustion returned. It took all your effort, but you managed to change into the clothes Luis had found for you. They were simple: an oversized t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts, likely for someone more of Leon’s size, but you were just glad to no longer be wearing your muddied, bloodied, sodden outfit from the mission.

You crawled under the sheets and blankets, leaving your towel on the floor, too tired to care. When you had gotten comfortable, hugging a pillow under your head, that was when a soft rap on the door snagged your attention. You rolled over just enough to look back to the doorway. “Just me, mi amor.”

Luis, back from his shower, was wearing the same gym shorts but he had forgoed a shirt. You rolled back over quickly enough, hiding your face against the pillow. There was the gentle sound of the door clicking shut and Luis’ footsteps as he made his way to the other side of the bed. He pulled up his end of the sheets, sliding into bed with a groan, the mattress dipping momentarily from his movement. “Mierda, this is nice.” He spoke with a sigh as he finally settled.

It felt surreal. After days of running ragged around the island, fighting people and monsters alike, it was strange to be vulnerable again. You looked across the space between you and Luis and up to the man’s face. His soaked hair framed his visage and he still held that look of exhaustion. His expression was soft, however, his eyes casting a warmth as he stared back.

“Almost too good to be true.” You whispered, fearing that this may all turn into a dream should you voice it any louder. 

Luis gave his lopsided smile with an airy chuckle. “It’s like you read my mind.” He reached out to brush a strand of wet hair back from your face a second time. His voice dropped a pitch, almost matching the volume of your whisper. “Try to get some sleep, mi amor.”

You nodded and snuggled down further into your pillow. Just as your eyes were slipping closed, you were abruptly pulled against Luis’ chest into a strong embrace. You shot your arms out and wrapped them around his back, clinging to him as he buried his face in your hair and against your neck. You squeezed your eyes shut tight, willing yourself to not start shaking as fatigue and anxiety clashed behind your heart. Anxiety for everything you went through, anxiety for never feeling safe anymore, anxiety for the thought of almost losing Luis again.

The Spaniard in your arms shuddered as he seemed to hold in a sob and you only hugged him tighter, closer. “We’re okay.” You began in a murmur. “We’re okay… I got you and you got me.” You weren’t sure if you were trying to console yourself or Luis more.

“Sí mi amor, I’m not going anywhere. No te dejaré.” He appeared to relax little by little after each affirmation. You still clung to him, inhaling the scent of his shampooed hair and trying to ground yourself. 

Eventually, you were able to doze off, wreathed by Luis’ light snores.

—

You bolted upright in bed, no longer ensnared in the man’s embrace. Sweat coated your forehead and hairline, practically dripping down the back of your neck. Breathing heavily and in a panic, you check over your hands and arms before bringing your palms up to your eyes. It was just a night terror you tried telling yourself, and likely the first of many. Your rapid movements must have awoken Luis for he stirred with a hand reaching out for you.

“Mi amor, qué ocurre?” His hand found purchase on your knee as he pulled himself up partly to sit with you. 

Your hands remained pressed against your eyes as if you could push the horrid vision from your mind. “Bad dream.” You uttered, voice shaky. Gentle fingers grasped your wrists, lowering your hands from your face. You were met with Luis’ concerned, even stare. You thought he would press for more details, but he only waited for when you were ready to share. “It was um, it was Las Plagas… that thing was inside me again.” A sniffle escaped you as the adrenaline was finally wearing off.

“Oh, mi amor, I’m so sorry.” Luis crooned, coaxing you into a hug. “The parasite is gone, prometo. I made sure of it.” The hug shifted to you sitting in his lap, legs out to one side and his arms looped around your waist, hands clasped on your hip. He began to gently rock side to side, doing his best to be reassuring. “And, just think, if we’ve done it once before, we can do it again.”

You paled at the thought. “But I don’t want to do it again.” 

“Lo siento, but you know what I mean, yes? You’re so capable, strong, and brave. Much braver than I.” That got a little snort out of you. “You can take on the world, mi amor.” He pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “And I will be by your side the whole way.”

#resident evil 4 #re4 remake #luis serra x reader #luis serra #vizo writes

[anonymousewrites]

One Hell of a Love (Book 1.5) Chapter One

Sebastian Michaelis x Demon! Reader

Chapter One: One Hell of a Monastery

Summary: (Y/N) and Sebastian go to a cult, and (Y/N) finds themself annoyed with Sebastian's tactics for getting information.

Mouse Note: This book is called “1.5” because it contains almost everything that is non-canon to Manga storyline. I had a bit in Book 1, but that stuff can be moved on from in Book 2. Book 1.5 will contain the end of Season 1 and the entirety of Season 2 of Black Butler. So, while this book and its storyline does exist and the emotional realizations of Sebastian and MC are canon, I simply hold it separate from the rest of Sebastian and the MC’s story to not create too much confusion of canon vs non-canon Manga storyline.

            “This morning, you are scheduled to have a dancing lesson with Mrs. Bright,” said Sebastian as he and (Y/N) walked beside Ciel. “This afternoon, you have an appointment with Lord Winsler, who runs a trading business. Are you paying attention, Young Master?”

            “Didn’t I tell you I’ve had enough of dancing?” said Ciel. “It doesn’t suit me.”

            “You are too modest. I thought you looked lovely at the soiree,” said (Y/N), smiling impishly at the reference to Ciel’s undercover work. Ciel sent them an icy glare as his ears turned red, but (Y/N), not being his contracted demon, didn’t have any reason to be nervous and just grinned wider.

            Ciel huffed and opened the door to his parlor. He deadpanned at what he saw inside. He had another visitor prancing around his mansion unannounced. This time, it was Ash, the Queen’s butler. He was chatting and sipping tea with Tanaka.

            “You are Her Majesty’s butler!” said Ciel.

            “Master Ciel,” greeted Ash.

            “How is it that Her Majesty’s butler came to be drinking tea in my mansion?” asked Ciel.

            “You may not be aware of this, Young Master, but Mr. Ash has always been the one to deliver Her Majesty’s orders,” said Sebastian.

            “Is that even a butler’s job?” asked Ciel.

            “As a butler, it is only natural to be able to investigate applicants for an audience with Her Majesty, deliver an envelope to Lord Phantomhive shortly thereafter, and relish some tea with Mr. Tanaka while about this business, conducting it during Her Majesty’s afternoon nap!” declared Ash forcefully.

            He’s got Sebastian’s work ethic, thought (Y/N).

            “So, Mr. Ash, what can we do for you this time?” said Sebastian. He had no answers for it yet, but he too felt some instinctual wariness around the butler, so he wanted to make this meeting quick.

            “Well, now,” said Ash. “There is a catholic monastery on the outskirts of Preston that was set on fire during the Reformation and is currently disused. A religious society preaching heretical doctrine has begun assembling there. Rumor has it that the founder of this society possesses the Doomsday Books of all his followers.”

            “You mean the land register? Where things like livestock and property appear?” said Ciel. “Even if he has all this information, what good is it to him?”

            “Not Domesday. Doomsday,” corrected Ash. “These books they are worshipping are quite different from what you have in mind. Doomsday: the Day of Judgement. Indeed, it is a register, but of the sort you need when flung before the Throne of God. They say all your offenses, virtues, and vices are engraved on its pages.”

            Ciel tsked. “Yet another encounter with the occult.”

            “It would also seem they’re planning an uprising against the government,” said Ash. “The residents of Preston are frightened by this heretical menace, and Her Majesty the Queen is deeply saddened by it.”

            “Does this mean they are to be dispersed, or rather, eradicated?” questioned Ciel.

            “I will leave that to your judgment,” said Ash.

            “Very well,” said Ciel.

            At the widow, Pluto suddenly jumped up (thankfully in human form and clothed) and began banging on the window. His mouth was open in a wide grin as he stared at Ash. The white-haired man’s eyes narrowed sharply, and Pluto’s face dropped. He walked away dejectedly. (Y/N)’s nose twitched at the interaction.

            “Who is he?” asked Ash.

            “Just an employee,” said (Y/N).

            “I see. He seems interesting,” said Ash. His violet eyes landed on (Y/N). “As interesting as any one else on this staff, of course.”

            (Y/N) and Sebastian’s gazes were cold and gained no warmth until after Ash had made his departure.

l

            “So, where shall we start?” said (Y/N).

            “According to Mr. Ash, the monastery is heavily guarded,” said Sebastian. “That would make it difficult to infiltrate directly. He also mentioned on his way out that a considerable number of coffins have recently been transported into the monastery.”

            “Coffins, eh?” said Ciel. “Well, then, we know who to visit.”

l

            Sebastian, Ciel, and (Y/N) walked into the Undertaker’s shop, and they saw him standing beside a coffin with his back to them.

            “Undertaker, I have a favor to ask of you,” said Ciel.

            “If that is the case…” Undertaker turned slightly to reveal red glasses and fluorescent eyes. “…Let my humble being relish this most excellent romance!” Grell ran towards Sebastian and (Y/N). They just stepped to the sides and let her slam into the wall.

            “Grell!” exclaimed Ciel.

            “Hi, Earl,” chirped the voice of the actual Undertaker.

            “Undertaker!” Ciel blinked in confusion upon seeing Undertaker buried neck-deep in a pot of salt.

            “He had the impudence to speak disrespectfully about a Grim Reaper, so I pickled him in salt,” said Grell matter-of-factly.

            “Oh, the sensation of moisture slowly leaving the skin…” Undertaker giggled. “It is out of this world!”

            “What are you doing here?” demanded Ciel.

            Grell shrugged. “Investigating something on Will’s orders. However, I did not find much information, and I got hungry and sleepy. Having a restorative afternoon nap in a field of flowers, I somehow ended up being carried here. It could have been a mistake not to breath while sleeping.” She batted her eyelashes at Sebastian and (Y/N). “And there I was, waiting for my true love to wake me up with a nice, long tongue kiss.”

            “I’d smother you in my sleep,” said (Y/N), smiling brightly.

            “The subject of your investigation?” prompted Sebastian coldly.

            “Certain Cinematic Records have been stolen of late,” said Grell with a sigh.

            “Cinematic Records?” said Ciel.

            “No need for a brat like you to know about them,” said Grell.

            Just to be contrary, (Y/N) said, “It is a film of people’s memories of life that play when a reaper collects a soul or strikes the soul with their scythe.”

            “Let me make this very clear: you humans can only see it on the brink of death,” said Grell.

            “You said they were stolen. Can they be stolen?” questioned Sebastian.

            “Well, yes,” said Grell. “They are kept in the library when not in use. The past of all living things—that is to say, of everything that is doomed to die—all the sins and virtues they commit are carefully recorded in the shape of a book.”

            “Rather like a book for their Doomsday,” remarked (Y/N). The coincidence was unlikely to be chance.

            “Yes,” said Sebastian.

            Ciel nodded and turned to Undertaker. “Undertaker, I need you to help me with something.”

            “If so, bestow the finest of laughs upon…” Undertaker looked at Grell dressed up in his clothes and grinned. “On second thought, my service will be free this time.

l

            “Wasn’t the infiltration supposed to be difficult?” muttered Ciel after the cramped ride in coffins (courtesy of Undertaker). Instead of anything seriously difficult, the man at the gate allowed them to walk beside him as he guided the cart of coffins farther into the monastery.

            “Yes, indeed, it should have been,” said Sebastian.

            They passed a nun and a monk, and all three cult members smiled to them cheerfully as they passed.

            “Impeccable smiles, aren’t they?” muttered Ciel.

            “The smiles of those too foolish to understand their own stupidity,” said (Y/N) brightly as they came upon the church itself.

            Inside were stained glass windows with depictions of saints and angels. Wooden pews lined the stone floors, and a dais with a pulpit headed the room.

            “Good evening!” Several little boys ran into the room, all dressed identically (it really was the typical cult). “Good evening! Today was a wonderful day again, don’t you think?”

            “Oh, they are so cute,” cooed Grell. “I have no real care for kids, though.”

            “Good evening, Miss Unclean,” said one of the little boys to Grell. “You really are dirty, through and through.”

            Ordinarily, (Y/N) would find Grell getting called out entertaining, but at the use of the words “unclean” and “dirty,” (Y/N)’s eyes narrowed. Those words were far too familiar.

            “What?!” snapped Grell.

            “Did something happen, Miss Unclean? Are you feeling unwell?” asked another boy.

            Grell hit him over the head. “You brat! Leave the ‘unclean,’ out, you hear?!”

            “Ah! I was touched by an Unclean!” cried the boy. “I must be cleansed!” He and the other boys ran away from Grell into a hallway as a nun walked out.

            The nun chuckled and smiled softly. “After a certain age, all people are considered impure.” She gazed at the four present. “Judging by your clothes, you are recent converts. Don’t worry, once initiated into the teachers of the Founder, you will be purified.”

            “Sebastian,” said Ciel. “Get answers.” It was an order.

            “Impure? That is strange to here,” said Sebastian, obeying. He began to walk towards the nun. “Such a beautiful lady as yourself could not possibly be tainted.” The nun blushed at him as he stood before her, her back to the wall.

            (Y/N)’s eyes narrowed, and their irises flashed fuchsia possessively.

            “I know close to nothing about this religious society,” said Sebastian. “Could you explain it to me in detail?” He smirked sinfully.

            “Of course…” The nun blushed and squirmed under his gaze. “But then, what are you…!”

            Sebastian’s hand slammed into the door by the nun’s head. She squeaked, and he leaned close with a smirk. “There was a bug.” He stood up to his full height, towering over the extremely-attracted-to-him nun. “Now, you will tell me everything, won’t you?”

            “Y-Yes,” stammered the nun. “If you’ll…come with me…” Sebastian took her by the arm and guided her out of the room.

            When he caught (Y/N)’s eye, he was surprised to see their arms crossed, nails almost claws as they gripped their arms tight enough to leave marks. Sebastian’s grip faltered on the nun’s arm.

            But he had his orders.

l

            “Oh, no~! I’ll become unclean!” gasped the nun within the stables as Ciel, (Y/N), and Grell stood outside. Ciel looked uncomfortable, Grell was growling, and (Y/N)…Well, they were close to murder, and Ciel and Grell were a careful distance away, even if they didn’t understand why they looked that way.

            “Ah! I can see it! The gate to Heaven!” cried the nun.

            “Tch,” said Sebastian under his breath. This was not enjoyable in the slightest.

            Outside, (Y/N) tapped their claw-sharp nails against the wooden fence, light scratches digging into the wood. The thought of that prissy, good-two-shoes, prudish, fool of a human touching Sebastian made every demonic instinct hiss for blood. They knew Sebastian owed them no loyalty—they had merely been mentor and apprentice, and he would barely admit to them being actual friends with some sort of bond—but (Y/N) couldn’t stand a naïve little human touching him.

            Grell could see (Y/N)’s eyes turn fuchsia and their claws appearing, and ordinarily she would comment on how attractive they appeared, but for once Grell made the smart decision under the (correct) assumption that one wrong word could get her head torn off.

            “Oh!” cried the nun.

            (Y/N)’s claws shattered the fence.

l

            “The Doomsday Books of those who live a long life become tainted,” explained the nun as she brushed her disheveled hair. She sat in the hay with her dress on as Ciel, Grell, Sebastian, and (Y/N) listened to her. “The Founder purifies a part of the taint recorded in the Book for us. He also says the Doomsday Book contains a record of both the past and the future.”

            “Oh? The future, he says?” remarked Sebastian, but his eyes slid to (Y/N) as he saw the dark look in their eyes.

            “However, the only ones to learn about that are the children chosen for the Heavenly Choir,” said the nun.

            “Heavenly Choir? Are they singing hymns or something?” said Ciel.

            The nun blushed. “The nuances of it are probably somewhat different from simple singing. They let their beautiful voices be heard from the Founder’s bedroom.”

            (Y/N)’s eyes narrowed in disgust. Perfect, a place to focus their anger—disgusting perverts that exerted their power over others. (Y/N) would tear them to shreds as soon as they were given the chance.

            And then they might kill that nun, too. But that would be just for fun.

Taglist:

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@im-making-an-effort

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@alexpangender

@otomyoli

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@anxious-chick

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@iamsexytrash

#one hell of a love #x reader #gn reader #x gn reader #x nb reader #nb reader #demon!reader #demon reader #sebastian x demon!reader #sebastian x reader #black butler sebastian #sebastian michaelis #sebastian michaelis x reader #black butler fic #black butler x reader #black butler ciel #black butler #kuroshitsuji x reader #kuroshitsuji

[oh-no-a-whovian]

Before I fall apart

Part1

18+

Pairing: Raya x wyvern shifter fem reader

Summary: a sickness is spreading through the dragon species, turning them into vicious beasts. Raya meets a dragon in human form that is searching for a cure before her own time runs out…

Warnings: nudity, dragon themed violence

Word count: 5460

Masterlist

Screaming and crying can be heard for miles as the sky turns red from ash and smoke. People trip and drop their valuables as they flee their homes before they’re burnt to the ground and crumbled into ruins. Just outside the city, the forest and farmlands turn to dust as dragon fire tears through it all.

This isn’t right. They aren’t like this. Some are kind but solitary. Some only leave their caves or abandoned castles for additions to their hoards. Some even work alongside humans, helping them and nurturing little villages, wanting nothing more than success for their little human friends. They got along with humans well enough but now it’s all wrong.

Something is spreading, tearing the minds of dragons apart and leaving them as primal bloodthirsty beasts. It doesn’t matter what branch of the species. Drakes, Wyrms, Amphitheres, Wyverns, no matter the size or age, it ends the same. Once they’re infected it’s only a matter of time. It could be hours, days or even months, you don’t even know, eventually what makes them who they are is torn away and a monster is left in their place. They can’t help but kill whatever or whoever is in their path.

The ground quakes as the city starts to crumble around you, chunks of rubble falling and crashing throughout the streets as you try desperately to get people out. The cobblestone cracks beneath your feet, making the paths ahead uneven and dangerous, one wrong move and you could fall on your face.

“Head towards the river!” You shout, freeing more humans trapped in their homes by the melting stone of the building. Overhead a massive dragon passes, tearing up the tile roofs underneath them with their flaming breath, swiping their claws at any protrusion they missed.

You roll your eyes as you notice a rather portly balding man dragging a large sack, gold and jewels spilling out onto the pavement from the poorly closed opening as he prioritises wealth over his own stupid life. Growling at him, you snatch the bag from his greedy ash covered hands, throwing it into a pile of burning thatch with ease. “Get to the fucking river” you sneer at the greedy man as he tries to gather what you’d thrown from the fire. For a moment you think he’s gonna to fight you, his glaring eyes locking onto you when he realises there’s nothing he can do to retrieve what you threw.

“Fucking bitch” he curses before running off to join the crowds running to the river.

Part of you thinks that humanity deserves this. Nature just taking control and eradicating the pests that tear her apart. If it wasn’t taking the minds of your friends and family, you’d probably even support it.

“Help!” A little voice cries somewhere above you and you step back, your sharp eyes darting around the taller buildings. High up, hanging from the ledge of the bell tower, a little girl cries. Her hands slip bit by bit as the base of the tower starts to crack. “Please help!!” She screams, her little legs flailing to try and find purchase.

Breaking into a sprint, you race toward the tower, your human legs so much slower than your normal method of travel. You leap up the wall, grabbing ledges and dislodged stones to pull yourself up to the little girl barely holding on. The satchel at your side flails wildly as you practically throw yourself up the building, covering the distance within seconds.

Just as her fingers slip, you reach her, wrapping your arm around her waist to stop her decent toward the rupturing ground. “It’s ok, I’ve got you” you whisper as she buries her face in your neck refusing to look at the distance to the street, her arms holding onto you for dear life. “I need you to hold on, ok?” You whisper and she holds on tighter, nodding as her tears stain the shoulder of your shirt. “Shit” you curse at the sight of a Wyvern heading straight for you, her mouth opening as she prepares to burn the tower to the ground.

Without a second thought you release your grip on the stones, plummeting toward the cobble stone below. The little girl screams as scorching hot flames burst above your head tearing through the top of the bell tower and toppling it. though you’re not sure if she’s screaming cause of that or the fact that you’re both falling nearly fifty feet to the street below.  

Taking the brunt of the fall, you protect the girl’s head as you roll onto the ground. Forcing yourself up and back on your feet, you stumble through the streets toward the river as the buildings fall around you and the path warps beneath your shoes.

The way ahead is blocked as more debris falls onto the path, so you turn onto the next street, hoping desperately for a way around, only to come face to face with a massive Drake using their claws to tear down a wall to get to a human who’s screaming for the lords help on the other side.

Sniffing in the air, the wingless dragon pauses, and you realise too late that the little girl in your arms is bleeding. Her little palms and shins scraped from trying to keep herself from falling from the building. You hadn’t even noticed it with the smell of blood currently covering so much of the city’s cobblestone.

The Drake snarls as their eyes lock onto you, their massive claws digging into the stone as if it were clay. You prepare yourself to use your magic, to shift back into your true from to defend against the imminent attack, when a horn blares in the distance.

Immediately everything seems to fall silent as the deep ominous tone echoes between the destroyed buildings. The Drake before you races down the street without another thought to you, running in the direction of the horn. the sound of wings overhead slowly fades as they too follow the sound calling to them.

The haunting cries of loss and devastation wail like a bean sídhe. Around you people call for their loved ones, heartrending screams following as they find their loved ones crushed or scorched in the remains of their city.

You’re barely registering any of it though as you stare to the east where the dragons collectively went, following the sound of the horn as if a crew of pirates to siren song. Everything is so wrong.

In your arms the little girl writhes as she tries to free herself from your hold. You snap out of your trance, placing the girl on the ground to watch her run, calling to her mother as she passes through the devastation, flakes of ash catching in her hair as she goes. As soon as you wonder if you should follow, a woman scoops her up, holding onto her for dear life as they cry.

“Oh, my baby. I’m so glad you’re okay” you hear the woman sob out, even from how far you are.

“That woman saved me mama” the little girl says, pointing at you amidst the rubble.

‘Thank you’ the woman mouths out before taking her child to safety, smiling through her tear-stained cheeks trailing through the soot on her skin.

I need to figure out what’s happening. You think as you look back to the east. There was at least half a dozen different dragons tearing the city apart and they just… stopped, following that horn without hesitation. You thought the disease spreading through your brothers and sisters was turning them into mere beasts but clearly there’s something more to this cursed sickness. Something sinister.

To spare the humans more fear you race down the streets and outside the city walls into a scorched vineyard, still smouldering. Heated fruits squish under your boot as you make your way through the destroyed lines of grape vines, and their sweet smells swirl to meet your nose.

You pull off your clothes, stuffing each piece into the satchel as you set it on the ash covered ground. Finally, once the last piece of your clothing is packed away in your bag, you take a deep breath through your mouth.

As you exhale slowly black smoke billows from your nostrils, forming a small whirlwind around your body. The thick dark cloud grows as cyan magic sparks from within it, shifting you from your human form into a massive wyvern with a nearly thirty-foot wingspan.

You stretch your wings out as your tail swings, each movement stirring up the ash that’s settled on the ground.

It’s been a while since you turned yourself into a human, probably the longest you’ve ever been in that form. Because of that your natural body aches as if you’d been sleeping on a pile of stones for a century.

Using the talons on your foot, you delicately grab your satchel, holding it tight as you take off.

You hear the horn sound once more, with more dragons making their way toward it. Keeping your distance you follow them east, wondering how far they’re going and why.

—————

You’ve been flying for nearly a week, far enough behind the other dragons to not be spotted. You have a feeling getting to this point would have taken less time if the dragons ahead of you didn’t leave destruction in their wake.

You stopped at ten different villages and two cities, shifting back into a human to help those in need as their homes burnt around them. Eventually it got to the point that you couldn’t understand the language people were speaking, having to cast a new translation spell just so you could understand them.

You hate seeing the humans dealing with such devastation, and though you’ve been trying so hard to help, you can’t undo what’s happening to them. As much as you’ve learnt from the grimoire you keep in your satchel, you know that even if you could bring back the dead, you shouldn’t. You just hope that you’ll find a cure for the dragons wherever they’re heading, and the humans will understand it isn’t the dragon’s faults. You hope the reputation of your species isn’t tarnished permanently.

You’d lost the hoard of dragons about two hours ago, too busy tying to help the people of the island city in the middle of the river after the hoard had torn up the place with their flames.

You’re glancing left and right, your wings a steady beat as you fly southeast over the river toward a large stone arch. You swear you spotted a familiar wyvern heading this way… The black with green gradient caught your eyes moments after you’d left the city that the people called Fang. You haven’t seen your brother in years, but you’d recognise him anywhere.

You’re not sure how you’d lost sight of him, he was right ahead of you, flying effortlessly toward the stone arch alone. You’d glanced away for only a second, casting your eyes toward the horn sounding out once more, but when you looked back he was gone.

You pause above the river, looking around to catch any sight of his green and black wings around the arch and forest. Your own wings beat powerfully, holding you in place high above the water.

Without warning fangs sink into the shoulder of your right wing, a massive weight crashing into you from above. You try to get him off as his weight sends you plummeting towards the river below. You snap and snarl at him, desperate to get his claws out of your back and his sharp fangs from your shoulder.

Cursing internally, you cast the magic to shift back into a human, slipping from your brother’s violent grasp. You barely get a hold of your satchel before you crash into the water below.

—————

Raya’s POV

The brush in her hand passes gently over the paper, her words filling out the letter to the leader of tail. It’s the final part of her assigned duties of the day before she can finally go meet Sisu and her friends to enjoy her birthday.

Six years have passed since the Druun were defeated, and everyone was freed from their statuesque prisons. Everyone who lives on the dragon shaped river system have come together, finally uniting after years of conflict and mistrust. She knows she was the same, anger and hatred filling her as she searched for Sisu down every river. She had to grow up alone and fast, how could she possibly turn out any other way.

It was hard for everyone, adjusting back into the world with people who’d been stone for years. She cried far too many times with her father, mourning the years they never had together. With all those years lost she worries, even now, that her father will never truly know her. She’s done her best though, to act like everything is fine, like the years alone aren’t a permanent scar on her soul.

As she signs off the letter she grins, hurriedly cleaning her brush of ink and propping it up to dry safely so she can race down and meet her friends at the bridge.

“Raya, have you finished your duties?” Her ba asks when he spots her passing the kitchen doorway, an eyebrow raised in her direction.  He’s been preparing her to be leader of heart, continuing the training he’d started so many years ago. He’s been steadily giving her more duties, allowing her to learn to balance them and her life.

She pauses just the other side of the doorway, stepping backward to peek back at him. “Yes ba. All the letters to leaders from Head to Tail are written and drying.” She starts, walking in to stand by her father while he helps craft lunch. “I’ve listed out possible solutions to farmer’s requests for better access to the river water and made sure the imports and exports are flowing smoothly.”

“You’ve taken to leadership quite well these past years.” Her father smiles, his pride for her practically radiating from him, but also the familiar sadness. “I am proud of the woman you’ve become. Now go, enjoy your birthday, but make sure you’re back for lunch.”

“Yes ba, thank you” she bows to him, showing her father the respect he deserves.

————

Her people greet her and give birthday wishes as she makes her way down through the market to the bridge that connects Heart to the mainland. Conversation and laughter fill the air as men and women trade in the market and little kids stand by their parents, rolling their eyes as their conversation goes for way too long.

She smiles as she spots Namaari and Sisu, excited to see her friends after months of focusing on her duties to Her home and people. The others haven’t arrived yet but she’s sure they aren’t far behind, a couple of them have to be brought by their parents after all.

“Hey!” She smiles, hugging Sisu then Namaari, the dragon almost crushing her in excitement.

“Happy birthday Raya!” Sisu says with a sharp toothed smile, her excitable personality shining through, especially strong on birthdays. 

“Happy birthday.” Namaari follows, her smile far more placid.

“The others won’t be here for about another hour, maybe we can….” Sisu starts, pausing at a weird noise echoing through the air.

High above the river, a reptile like creature pauses, it’s giant bat like wings steadily beating as it scans the area for something. 

From the tips of its wings a deep purple spreads like lighting into the black of its body. The scales down its stomach are light blue, maybe cyan, standing out against the blacks and purples of the rest of it. Like a bats wings, its giant ones are like skin stretched between long fingers, with massive claws at the joint. Its back legs hang down with its long tail. One of its taloned feet seems to be clenched shut, while the other flexes.

 A dark dot appears high above it, steadily growing as it seems to plummet straight for the creature above the river. 

In a blink another creature like the first but with green crashes into it, sinking its teeth into the wing of the purple one and digging claws into its back. The purple one snaps and snarls as the two plummet toward the river, its neck not long enough to reach around to bite the other. Raya and her friends watch in mute horror as the beasts fall, not even sure what they are.

A dark cloud of smoke swirls around the creatures and one seems to just vanish within it.

“Shit, shit, shit!” They hear a woman shout, her nude body suddenly falling from the dispersing smoke, desperately clasping at a bag falling with her. Her body crashes into the rushing water below, and Sisu dives into the water after her.

Raya and Namaari race down to the riverbank, helping Sisu as she drags the coughing woman back onto land. Above the other creature watches the events happening below it, then simply flies away as if it means nothing now.

“You shouldn’t… have… done that.” The nude woman coughs as she pulls herself onto her knees, staring at the dragon who saved her. The wounds she should have from the attack shrink into tiny scars as she gasps for breath, trying to rid her lungs of the water she most likely breathed in.

“Would you rather she let you drown?” Raya asks, her cheeks warming as she tries to avoid looking at the naked woman before her.

“No, and I… am grateful, but…” she sighs, hugging her soaked satchel to her chest and looking back at Sisu. “You may have just doomed yourself…”

“What do you mean?” Namaari asks, taking her words as a threat toward Sisu, placing her hand on the sword at her hip.

“You’re a type of dragon, right?” She asks Sisu, ignoring the humans present, and the dragon nods. “So am I. And there is a terrible disease coursing through our species.”

Raya’s concern about the nudity before her vanishes, the warmth on her cheeks fading as fear for her friend and the rest of the dragons takes hold.

“What do you mean?” her eyes locking on the beautiful nude woman before her. 

“Look, I don’t really have time to explain things here, I’m on borrowed time as it is.” The woman coughs, pushing herself to her feet. The woman’s legs wobble and Raya reacts, reaching for the woman before she collapses.

“You just breathed in a bunch of water, at least catch your breath.” Raya can see the argument in her eyes as she holds her up way too close.

“fine” the woman sighs, pulling away. Raya’s skin tingles where the woman had touched, so warm and soft despite being soaking wet. Her cheeks heat once more as she realises, she was holding onto a very beautiful, very naked woman. She glances to her friends, hoping they hadn’t noticed but they very much had, both of them smirking at her. or at least she thinks Sisu is smirking… “shit” the woman curses, staring dejectedly into her satchel.

“What?”

“My clothes are soaked.”

—————

[Y/N] POV

Six months ago, the first dragon fell victim to a terrible sickness that now runs rampant through the species. A growing Drake, still in his birth cave with his siblings and mother, started acting different. He became snappy, angry, lashing out at even the littlest things. His mother chalked it up to him being a growing young dragon, that he’d soon leave the nest and find his way in the world and all the attitude would mellow out.

One day he just… snapped. He tore apart two of his sisters and there was nothing his mother could do to stop him; she couldn’t bring herself to hurt him. He began to run rampant, burning down the villages nearby and eating any human or farm animal he found until the humans finally put him down.

Eventually the rest of his family started showing symptoms too, and so did others that came into contact with them and him. It was spreading so fast, and there was no way to know who was infected until it was too late.

In moments of lucidity, as the disease seemed to tear into them, some explained they could hear whispers and screams as their minds started to go. Some shook their heads, and clawed at their skulls, trying to get the disease out as if they could feel it writhing within them.

Three months into the spread of the illness the first of your family begun to show symptoms. The irritation over nothing, jumping at sounds that don’t exist, attacking shadows, and eventually the total loss of their higher thinking.

You’d watched in horror from a distance as one by one, your own family joined the hoard of rampaging beasts that used to be highly intelligent dragons.

You studied the grimoire you were gifted when you were a hatchling until your eyes hurt, trying desperately to find a cure using the magics inside. But what could you do? You were one wyvern, barely considered grown to some despite being twenty-five in human years. 

The only other dragon even capable of helping eventually went mad too, succumbing to the sickness and killing the few humans that had offered their aid.

All you could do was follow along, help who you could and search for a cure along the way. You’d done your best to keep your distance, but you know it’s only a matter of time. You’d come in contact with too many that had turned for you not to be infected too.

Every step forward you thought you had taken wound up being two steps back. You searched libraries, consulted with witches and thieves for just a tiny piece to this ever-growing puzzle. Nothing seemed to be enough. And you’re starting to lose hope it ever will be.

———————

You wait in silence for their responses, sitting on the stone windowsill of Raya’s room. She’d handed you some clothes after sneaking you in, and you’d told the horrible story of the past six months as you pulled on the simple brown pants and yellow sleeveless shirt. Not exactly a colour you’d usually wear but you don’t have a choice until your clothes are dry.

“How many other infected dragons are gonna be heading this way?” Raya asks, breaking the fearful silence.

“I was following a group of about fifty, but if all the infected are heading this way, then hundreds could show up.” You sigh, watching as Raya starts pacing the room in front of you. “The ones I was following dispersed after attacking a city northwest of here on the river, Fang I think they called themselves?”

“Wait, Fang was attacked?” Namaari practically shouts, leaping up from where she was sitting. “I need to go home and help my people.” She says, grabbing her satchel and quickly hugging Sisu and Raya.

“Of course, be safe.” Raya smiles. “Find the others and tell them to head back and warn their people too.”

“Sisu, you should warn your family and any others. They need to know to stay away from any dragons coming from the west.” You pipe up before Namaari leaves.

“Of course, yes!” The dragon in human form says, fidgeting as she rises from her cross-legged pose on the bed. “I’ll give you a ride, Namaari.”

You move forward before the dragon has a chance to leave, grabbing her arm to stop her. “Keep your distance when you do…” you tell her sadly “you don’t want to be the reason they get infected…”

She looks like she’s about to cry as she nods, making her way out with Namaari. It makes you sick to think that you could be the reason that she’ll become like the other dragons, that her saving your life could be what seals her fate.

From the half hour you’ve known her you can already tell she’s incredibly trusting and caring, you’d never want to see someone like that be torn away.

“I’m sorry” you tell Raya once it’s just the two of you left in her room.

“for what?”

“I could be the reason your friend loses herself, that you lose her…” you breathe, sitting down heavily onto her bed. “That was my brother that attacked me above the river… part of me was hoping… some of him was still in there. That he’d lead me the right direction and help me save him.” You tell her, running your fingers into your hair, feeling the pull against each strand. “But I was wrong… he’d realised I was following and lured me in to attack me.”

“I don’t blame you.” She says, taking a seat arm’s length from you. “Even if Sisu knew, she probably still would have saved you from the river. She’s like that” She smiles, her dark brown eyes showing great fondness for the dragon. “I’m sorry you had to go through that”.

The moment of emotion disappears quickly from her eyes as the worry for her friends and the other people of the region sobers her emotional thoughts.

“What was your plan?” she questions, shifting to face you better.

“I didn’t really have one… I was just following, and I guess hoping I’d just find the way to help them.” You admit, staring at your bare feet as you flex your toes.

“Well, you said the group you were following dispersed when they reached this river, maybe…”

“Raya, are you in here?” a man called freezing at the sight of a stranger in Raya’s room. “Oh, who’s this?”

“Ba, this is….” Raya starts, pausing awkwardly, realising they hadn’t asked your name when they told you theirs.

“[Y/N]. My name is [Y/N]” you bow, the same way you’ve seen a nobleman bow to a king. They both look at you oddly but say nothing, you assume it’s because woman usually curtsy?  

“An honour to meet you.” He bows his head before turning to his daughter. “Raya, I just saw Sisu and Namaari leave, is something wrong? The celebration lunch is almost ready.”

“Celebration?”

“oh, It’s my birthday.” Raya says almost dismissively. “How about we sit down and have lunch while I fill you in. Ok ba?” She practically drags the man, her father, from her room, gesturing for you to follow.

Unsure, you glance out the window. You really should continue trying to find where the hoard of rabid dragons went. You’re not sure if this detour is in your best interest, your time feeling far too limited. Yet you find yourself following Raya nonetheless. It sounded like she might have an idea and it might be better than the nothing you’re working with…  

-----

You’re fidgeting, your leg bouncing as you stare out the window carved from the stone. You didn’t have time to explain it the first time but now you’re waiting for Raya to explain it all again to her father. He’d placed a bowl of some kind of soup before you, Raya and himself, then settled down as if there wasn’t a massive war breaking out so close to his home. You’ve barely touched it despite your hunger and the delicious spicy taste. All you can focus on is saving your family, your species.

Your mind goes back to your brother as the two humans talk. He’d attacked you, no hesitation or recognition. You hadn’t seen him since long before everything started happening. He left the cave when he turned twenty, you were only fifteen, still a baby in your mother’s eyes. He visited a few times after, but once you too left the nest you hadn’t seen him again.                                                        To see him like that… it fucking hurt both emotionally and literally.

What are you supposed to do?

“I want to help her” you hear Raya say over your thoughts and your eyes shift to her brown ones that seem to be seeking your approval.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea… it didn’t end well for the last humans that tried to help.” You don’t want a repeat of that, and you definitely don’t want to be the one that causes it. just being here is already a risk.

“You said there was a horn that called the dragons this way, right?” she recounts, making sure she remembers what you had said.

“Yes…” you hesitate, wondering where she’s going with this. It’s been a constant, for a while the dragons attack places then the horn blares and all carnage stops. The raging dragons simply follow the sound as if all else vanishes.

“So, maybe we can find the source of that?”

“I’ve been trying find the source. But I’m not taking you. I’m not risking any more human lives.” You tell her, glancing at her father as you rise from your seat. “Not only am I at risk of getting attacked, but I could also be infected. I don’t want to be the cause of another death.”

“Do you have any of the symptoms?” her father askes and you shake your head no. “how long after symptoms show do they fully succumb to this illness?”

“Anywhere between a few days and a month.” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose in an attempt to remember certain details. “My friend theorised that it’s based on age or size… the smaller and younger ones snapped fastest I think.”

“You think?” Raya questions, the air of unimpressed at your uncertainty.

“He wrote it down, but his notes were lost when he died.” You tell her, rolling your eyes as you look out of the window overlooking to river, your palms leaning on the near smooth stone frame.

“How did he die?” you can hear the frown in her voice so you’re pretty sure she guessed the answer already.

“Burnt to death by one of the dragons he was observing. It doesn’t matter.” Dismissing the line of thought as you turn to face her once more. “What does matter is that I don’t remember his notes and I’m not willing to risk someone’s life if I’m wrong.” 

“I think you should stay out of it, Raya, we will seek shelter if needed, rebuild even, but we don’t know enough of these western dragons to help.” Her father states, a sense of finality to his words. but instead of backing down, the young woman glares at him.

“Ba, I spent six years alone, I can make my own decisions.” You notice the way the man seems to flinch at her sharp words, though you don’t understand the full meaning behind them, you can clearly see it upset them both. “She could be the only one trying to find a cure at this point, if she succumbs to it then there will be no one, she needs help!” She left her seat as she spoke, grabbing your wrist and pulling you closer to drive her point home.  “we can’t let this happen to the dragons.”

“Raya” her father warns, glaring at her as he too stands, the soups on the table forgotten.

“You told me a leader always does what’s right. I did what was right when the Druun took over and I will do it again now.”

You watch her as she speaks, her determination and passion clear as day. It’s probably her love for Sisu driving her to care so much about this dangerous plague. Maybe her love for her people making her want to stop the carnage before it comes to her door.

“You’re not gonna take no for an answer, are you?” you ask her, her dark brown eyes meeting yours with a smirk on her lips. There’s a fire in her eyes and you swear it rivals that of a dragon’s mighty breath, it makes your heart beat just a little louder at the sight of it. She’s determined and strong willed, clearly no matter what you or her father says she will help.

“no” she says, finally releasing the firm grip she had on your arm. “I’m gonna help, ba. You should make sure our people are ready for if… when the dragons come this way.”

She seems so sure of herself, though you’re not sure if that’s a good thing. You have missed having help… maybe she really can spot something that you can’t… I’m gonna regret this you think to yourself, listening to her ideas as you follow her back to her room.

You just hope you’ll be able to get her out of the way if something bad happens, cause she’s clearly coming with you.

A/N; had this little idea for a while, finally finished the first chapter!! Remember! Like and reblog to share the love!!!

#raya and the last dragon #raya x reader #fem reader #disney characters #dragons #raya and the last dragon x reader

[midgarddaughter]

Witch Princess

CHAPTER 1

This fanfic. Is my first on this side. English isn't my first language. No voldi au

Draco x Y/N Morningstar

A few characters are inspired from other franchise.

Once there existed a very special kingdom. Here, all witches and wizards of the world found refuge and could live in peace. They didn't have to hide from the world or fear the people. Long before the great witch trials and even before the construction of Hogwarts, there was the Witch Kingdom, ruled by the Witch Queen. The old kings held great respect for this venerable witch family and their powers. In every kingdom, it was customary to have a court witch or wizard who advised the kings and, above all, maintained peace to ensure its eternal continuation.

The Witch Queen once adopted an orphan who enjoyed the love and warmth of the family as if it were her own. She grew into a beautiful young woman, her hair as black as ash, just like her soul. Despite maintaining the appearance of affection toward her adoptive family, she was tainted by malice and treated the kingdom's citizens far from lovingly. Firmly convinced she would become queen one day, she was shaken when she learned that the queen was pregnant with a daughter.

Every scheme she devised to prevent this backfired, and her true character became more apparent to her adoptive family. When the young woman went too far and almost killed the daughter, she was sent into exile. Unbeknownst to anyone, this would mean the downfall of the kingdom. A few years later, fueled by hatred and discord sown among humans, neighboring kingdoms declared war on the Witch Kingdom. Armed with unusually extensive knowledge of how humans could defend against witches, they triumphed after years of war.

The surviving witches and wizards hid among humans or in distant regions. The royal family now consisted only of the little girl, ten years old and entirely alone in the world. To prevent the kingdom from rising again, the exiled adoptive daughter cursed the family. Only the firstborn daughter could ascend the throne, as it had always been, but there would never be another firstborn daughter in their bloodline.

Among the witches and wizards who managed to escape were key members of the royal court: General Godric Gryffindor, Chief Librarian Rowena Ravenclaw, Chief Medical Advisor and Potion Master Salazar Slytherin, and Ceremony Mistress Helga Hufflepuff. With the ideals of the Witch Kingdom in their hearts and souls, they founded Hogwarts.

Today, the story of the Witch Kingdom is no longer told. Believing the royal family was eradicated, the memory became too painful, fading into oblivion. Yet, the family endured, secluded from a human town, residing in a cozy Victorian house meticulously cared for through many generations. The little girl grew into a kind woman, marrying a young Norwegian who introduced her to a new world of magic. They formed a family, celebrated seasonal festivals, and the royal bloodline continued. However, there was never again a firstborn daughter, until it happened, shaking the entire magical world.

Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts, visited the family on the tenth birthday of the young girl. With curiosity in her large green eyes, she looked at him. "Please understand that we prefer to handle our daughter's magical education ourselves, as the last generations have," said Lucifer Morningstar, an elegant man in his prime, his green eyes mirroring the girl's.

"I completely understand, Mr. Morningstar, believe me. But do you know how crucial she is for the magical world, how important she is?" Dumbledore swallowed hard as the man's expression darkened, leaning inches from Dumbledore's face. "The most important role she has is as my daughter. She must be nothing more and nothing less." He growled, then stood and gestured to the door of the opulent and warmly decorated living room. "With that, our conversation is over. Go," a small tug on his expensive crimson shirt made him pause. He looked down, meeting the face of his daughter.

"Papa, don't send the man away yet," his expression softened. Dumbledore had already grabbed his coat and hat, ready to leave, but he too hesitated. "But why?"

"I want to hear more. Is there really a school with girls like me?" she looked at the older man.

"A whole bunch." He whispered mysteriously, sitting back down cautiously, with a glance at the father. "Can you tell me more?"

"Y/-" Lucifer was about to intervene, but his daughter interrupted him again.

"You always tell me I should find my own path. Why can't this be my path?" she looked up at him incomprehensibly.

"You will find it when you're older and can better assess what's good for you. At 21, like everyone in your family, you will go on a world tour and learn ancient magical practices from various cultures, just like your mother and her mother before her and her mother before her."

"I can do that now. Why can't my journey start earlier? Just that the first part isn't the vast world but a school." Even Lucifer had no answer to that.

"All right, little one." Defeated, he sat back on the sofa next to his daughter and listened to the headmaster.

Y/N Morningstar did not directly enter her first year at school. She received remote education because her father deemed it essential to complete family training first. Traditions and her own magic, developed over generations.

Now starting her third year, she finally gets to attend school. Instead of an owl, she had her raven in a cage on the cart, which she pushed across the platform at King's Cross.

"Don't forget to write," her aunt, a slightly chubby woman with a loving face, stroked a strand of blond hair from her face.

"Of course, Auntie." The farewell was difficult, especially for her father.

"Your mother would be proud of you," he whispered with a final hug in her ear, and then she had to board the train.

Arriving on the train, she searched for a compartment. Many were already full or so crowded with luggage that she hesitated to enter. Politely smiling and nodding, she passed other students—of her age, younger, older. As if by luck, she found a compartment that was almost empty. Even in front of the compartment door, there were no students, allowing her to open it comfortably.

"Is this seat taken?" she asked politely, causing the pale young man with light blond hair to look up.

#harry potter fanfiction #fanfic #draco malfoy #oc #draco x you #draco x y/n #draco x hufflepuff!reader #harry potter au #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n

[kairos-polaris]

JJK x TMA crossover

JJK characters and their entity alignments:

Sorcerers:

- Itadori Yuuji: Has a potential for the Lonely but post Shibuya and 212 especially I think he would lean to the Hunt, similar to Daisy or the vampire hunter guy. He would be marked by the Lonely, both pre and throughout the series but his desire to eradicate curses will be stronger thus making his alignment with the Hubt stronger

- Fushiguro Megumi: I don't think he would have a direct alignment. Not really for the Hunt because he isn't as devoted to killing curses like Yuuji or Maki. The Dark fits only power wise. He could also be marked by the Buried because of the current state of his soul

- Kugisaki Nobara: I can't think of an alignment but she would probably have affinity to the Web because of the nature of her ct

- Okkotsu Yuuta: Currently unaligned, leaning towards the Hunt. Would eventually be fully Hunt after years of killing curses, possibly sped up by Maki being Hunt too. If he never became a sorcerer, he could potentially become Corrupted, the hive preying on his loneliness/isolation due to Rika

- Inumaki Toge: Same as Nobara, the Web affinity because his ct is literal manipulation of others

- Zenin Maki: The Hunt 100%, she is Hunt aligned since the beginning and becomes an avatar after killing the Zenin clan. I was thinking slaughter but Maki has a motivation

- Zenin Mai: She would have an affinity to the Corruption, the envy and jealousy aspect of it. Maybe similar to Jane Prentiss? but she doesn't live long enough to actually get corrupted/properly be aligned

- Gojou Satoru: Would be the Lonely aligned if he hasn't discovered the joy of free falling and the beauty of the vast blue sky when he was a teen and experimenting with infinity. I also just think the Vast!Gojou is more interesting. fanon Satoru from certain shippers is definitely an avatar of the Lonely tho

- Higuruma Hiromi: Marked by the Lonely and the Web, but ultimately belongs to the Eye (credit to my beloved @raven-campanile-rb for this one)

- Kenjaku: He is a mix of the Eye and the Web. The Eye because of the merger and their general interest in knowledge and seeking new experiences, also having witnessed the progress of humanity over the centuries of existence. Their plan was set up over a millennia, carefully puppeteering everyone, perfectly aligned with the Mother of Puppets

- Uro Takako: The Vast, solely based on her technique and also her introduction panel

The curses:

- Mahito: As a curse of the hate humans have for each other his origin could be tied to almost any dread power, his skill set is more aligned with the Flesh (body mutilation) and the Stranger (uncanny aspect of it)

- Hanami and Jogo: Both are born from the actions of the Desolation folks (forest fires and volcanoes/everything fire related) but are aligned with the Buried (Hanami's earth related abilities; Jogo's domain is called a coffin and volcanoes bury things with ash)

- Dagon: The Buried. Dagon is born of water related fears and the Buried includes the fear of drowning

#jjk x tma #jjk crossover #yuji itadori #megumi fushiguro #nobara kugisaki #inumaki toge #maki zenin #mai zenin #yuta okkotsu #gojo satoru #higuruma hiromi #kenjaku #uro takako #jjk dagon #jogo jjk #mahito jjk #hanami jjk

[astarionfreak]

carve it in red 🩸

// Ascended Astarion x Serin (Female!Durge)

Don't read this if you're looking to avoid endgame spoilers.

With his newfound powers, Astarion brought Baldur's Gate to its knees. He was the man who had everything. But he lost her.

Serin. His mad love. Consumed by her urge. Mind stolen by her cruel father. And yet, her soul remains intact. Can he save her? Is there hope for them yet?

---

Status: In progress (1/?) | Read on AO3

Wouldn't it be so much fun if I made you better and then we made each other worse? 🥰

Title is a lyric from "switchblade" by aeseaes.

Tags: Eventual Smut, Violence, Murder, Blood, Blood Drinking, Vampire Bites, Trauma, more tba . . .

Astarion stood in the garden, a solitary figure, silhouetted by a low-hanging blood moon. He often found himself here when he needed a moment of quiet reflection.

With his newfound powers, the Vampire Ascendant brought Baldur’s Gate to its knees. He ruled a kingdom of blood, which he had built on the ashes of his enemies. Quite literally. The Szarr name had all but been eradicated in Astarion’s efforts to reclaim the palace as his own.

He surrounded himself with beautiful people and held extravagant events, ensuring that the palace halls were rarely empty. He cemented his position among the city’s elite — many of whom now bowed to his every whim.

Everything he needed, anything he wanted, was his for the taking. Servants were at his every beck and call. He adorned himself with only the finest of fabrics. All of his grandest desires were true.

But it wasn’t enough.

And Astarion knew why.

Six months.

It had been six months since his one true love turned against her cruel father and ordered the destruction of the Netherbrain.

He remembered everything about that day. Down to the way her long, dark hair poured over her shoulders, untamed. The way the sun warmed his skin as the sky parted.

The lustful look she wore so perfectly, one he’d seen after many bloody battles. He could name each fleck of gold in her green eyes. Those wild eyes of hers.

Until they weren’t hers anymore.

“They’re calling us heroes, you know?” Serin said.

“Hm. A waste. They could be calling us gods,” Astarion said. “All in good time, I suppose.”

Serin smiled and reached up to cup his face. “I did this for you, my love.”

“And will it be worth it? Turning against your father. Surely there will be repercussions?” Astarion found himself leaning into her touch.

“Had I taken control of the Netherbrain in his name, you would have been lost to me. This was the only way.”

Serin pulled his face down to hers and captured his lips in a gentle kiss. She rarely kissed him with such tenderness.

He was the first one to pull away. “Little love, why does this feel like goodbye?”

“Because it is,” she said.

Serin. His mad love.

Bhaal broke her mind to make an example of her. She had been lost to him from that day forward. But he had not stopped searching.

Heavy footsteps on gravel brought Astarion back to the present moment. Emyr, a Flaming Fist, approached carrying a torch in one hand and a letter in the other.

“You know better than to interrupt me when I’m out here, Emyr,” Astarion snapped.

Emyr wouldn’t meet Astarion’s eyes. Good. He preferred it when they cowered in fear.

“I bring word from Waterdeep, my Lord,” Emyr said.

Waterdeep? That could only mean one thing. Gale. What could the wizard possibly want? And why was he sending messages by courier?

“Very well. Bring it here,” Astarion said.

Emyr kept their head bowed as they approached, holding the letter in an outstretched hand. Astarion snatched the letter from them and dismissed Emyr with a wave.

Emyr knew better than to say another word.

Astarion ripped the letter open and let the envelope fall to the ground. Someone would pick it up in the morning. He paced back and forth along the gravel path, eye scanning the text for anything of importance.

Gale had a rather annoying habit of speaking too much. That same habit was reflected in his letters as well, apparently. Something about Bhaal cultists. Something about danger. Astarion froze when he reached the end of the letter.

If he had a heartbeat, it may have stopped beating when he read those last six words.

I found her. She is alive.

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[ethanreedbooks]

Krakoa May be Gone but Benjamin Percy’s X-Force Fights On: Unveiling the Fall of X and the Evolution of Mutantkind

In the ever-evolving world of Marvel's X-Men, change is a constant. The latest seismic shift has seen the fall of Krakoa, the mutant nation, and the upheaval of its citizens' lives. Amongst the chaos and uncertainty, Benjamin Percy's X-Force emerges as a beacon of resilience, determination, and intrigue. In an exclusive conversation with CBR, Percy delves into the impact of the Fall of X on X-Force and the culmination of the storyline he's been meticulously crafting with characters like Colossus and Mikhail.

X-Force: The Guardians of Intelligence and Covert Operations

Once the intelligence arm of Krakoa, the X-Force stood as the defenders of mutantkind, gathering strategic information and conducting covert operations to safeguard their nation and its people. However, the turbulent events of the Hellfire Gala have shattered the paradisiacal Krakoa, leaving it shattered and many of its citizens presumed dead. In the midst of this uncertainty, the future of X-Force is cast into shadow. What will become of this once-stalwart team? Which operatives will rise to prominence in this new landscape? And which adversaries will seize the opportunity to emerge from the shadows and make their decisive moves?

These questions now drive Benjamin Percy and artist Robert Gill's X-Force series as it navigates the uncharted territory of the Fall of X. In a candid interview with CBR, Percy peels back the layers of this intricate narrative, unveiling the heart of the story that has been building since the series' inception.

The Phoenix Rising from the Ashes: X-Force's Evolution

With the mutants facing a dire situation—many of them killed or exiled—Percy reveals that X-Force, in some form, still persists. Mutantkind may be down, but it's far from out. In the wake of devastation, the surviving X-Force members are fighting for survival, acting as prisoners, defenders of their kind, and an underground rebellion force. The dynamic of the team has shifted, evolving to fit the demands of a world plunged into chaos.

As an integral part of the build-up to the Fall of X, Percy has witnessed the transformation of mutantkind's status quo firsthand. Expressing his enthusiasm as both a fan and a writer, he acknowledges the privilege of contributing to the X-Men saga during this transformative era. He's quick to point out that Krakoa's utopia was never meant to last indefinitely, as the stagnation of the status quo rarely lends itself to compelling storytelling. Now, as the idyllic paradise crumbles, a more treacherous era of spycraft and insurgency emerges—a fertile ground for riveting narratives.

The Enigmatic Presence of Mikhail Rasputin

A significant figure set to make a grand entrance is Mikhail Rasputin. The storyline involving Mikhail and his intricate relationship with Colossus has been a slow-burning fuse since the inception of the series. Finally, in the Fall of X, their arcs collide in a crescendo of tension and conflict. This long-anticipated moment is a testament to Percy's storytelling finesse, meticulously crafting a narrative that unfurls over time, allowing for depth and emotional resonance.

Percy's penchant for suspense is further reflected in the upcoming X-Force issues. In the forthcoming X-Force #43, readers will gain insight into the team's experiences during the tumultuous Hellfire Gala, adding layers of complexity to the overarching narrative. The intrigue deepens as Black Tom Cassidy takes center stage, his importance intertwined with his unique connection to Krakoa.

A Fractured World and Shifting Allegiances

In a world fractured by the cataclysmic events, Percy emphasizes the theme of brokenness and resilience. The team dynamics shift as characters grapple with the aftermath, torn between surrendering to despair and the unwavering drive to rebuild. Orchis, the enigmatic organization with a fervent goal of eradicating mutants, stands as a formidable adversary, while Mikhail Rasputin's shadowy enclave in Russia emerges as another force to be reckoned with. The impending conflict carries echoes of the Civil War storyline, thrusting characters into a realm of shadowy operations and tense allegiances.

Artistry in Chaos: Collaborators Shaping the Series

As Percy navigates the uncharted territory of the Fall of X, his words are brought to life by the skilled hands of artists Robert Gill and Daniel Acuña. Gill's mastery shines through as he deftly handles the intricate challenge of illustrating a diverse cast of characters and conveying their personalities within action-packed sequences. His ability to weave intricate details into the backgrounds adds a layer of authenticity that grounds the story.

On the cover art front, Percy expresses his excitement at having the talented Daniel Acuña contributing his artistic sorcery. Acuña's covers promise to capture the essence of the story, drawing readers in with his distinct visual style.

Teasing the Future: The Beast's Tale

As the Fall of X unfolds, one of the most anticipated elements looms large—the return of X-Force's former head of intelligence, Beast. Percy tantalizingly hints at a "big, big, big Beast story" on the horizon, leaving readers eager for the intricacies and revelations that lie ahead.

A Tumultuous Battle: Mikhail vs. Colossus

The evolution of X-Force reaches a crescendo in X-Force #46. The culmination of years of storytelling sees the long-simmering conflict between Mikhail Rasputin and Colossus boil over. Brothers pitted against each other, their battle embodies the complexities of loyalty, power, and revenge. As the dust settles, the consequences of their clash are sure to reverberate throughout the mutant landscape.

In a world where mutant-kind faces unprecedented challenges, Benjamin Percy's X-Force stands as a testament to the enduring spirit of the X-Men. As the mutants adapt to the fallout of the Fall of X, readers can expect a narrative filled with intrigue, espionage, and the untamed resilience that defines these iconic characters. With the creative prowess of Benjamin Percy, Robert Gill, and Daniel Acuña guiding the way, the future of X-Force promises to be an exhilarating journey through the untamed terrain of mutant-kind's new era.

#X-Force #X-Men #Fall of X