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itsthedoodle · 2 months

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the tragic story of the vienna sausage

Summary:

“Feyre, before we do this, there is something you should know.”

She looked at him incredulously, trying to ignore the throbbing between her legs. He thought now was the time for confessions? Sighing, she looked at him expectantly nonetheless.

“My cock… it’s not like other cocks.”

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: none

Many thanks to @rosanna-writer for spending her lunch break beta reading this pure chaos of a oneshot 🩵

Read on AO3

“You’ve plagued my dreams for so long.”

Feyre had no actual recollection of how they had gotten there. She only knew that they’d met at a ball several hours ago, and she had been captivated by his aura the moment she’d laid her eyes on him. Rhys could command a room just by being in it, which didn’t really surprise her given his station. They had been introduced to each other, had hit it off right away, had danced all night long, dances during which more than just a few whispers about them had been heard, and had decided to go out for some fresh air. A ballroom wasn’t the best place to strike up a conversation, especially with the presence of eager eyes and ears, so anything remotely meaningful Feyre had wanted to tell Rhys had come rushing out of her the moment she had felt him stand next to her on the enormous balcony.

She had confessed that she loved the night sky more than anything else, and he had told her he knew the perfect spot on this estate for stargazing. She had all but begged him to take her there, so they had gone to the fountain in the center of the rose maze, and had sat there for who knows how long.

If anyone had been looking for them, neither Feyre nor Rhys had known anything about it.

Rhys had started tracing constellations in the sky, meanwhile Feyre had been busy tracing the constellation of stars in his eyes. He had simply looked away from the sky for one moment, had turned his head to look at her and whatever he must have seen on her face had made him risk it all and kiss her like a parched man finally tasting water again.

She had kissed him back, and the rest had conveniently left her brain.

She looked at Rhys now, looked at his flushed face and the silky hair she couldn’t bring herself to stop touching. He was so beautiful and she wanted him so bad that she could hardly make sense of her own thoughts.

His shirt had been thrown somewhere behind him — or behind her? — she didn’t particularly care, and the top of her gown had been lowered down to her waist, her chest peppered with so many bruises she didn’t even know how she would cover them. That was a problem for future Feyre.

Present Feyre simply wanted to fuck the gorgeous man in front of her.

She ran her hands on his bare chest, the planes of it covered in strange markings she didn’t understand, moving them low to his abs and ending at his pants. She couldn’t wait to taste him.

She started to unbutton them when he put his hands on hers.

“Feyre, before we do this, there is something you should know.”

She looked at him incredulously, trying to ignore the throbbing between her legs. He thought now was the time for confessions? Sighing, she looked at him expectantly nonetheless.

“My cock… it’s not like other cocks.”

She suppressed a snort. Wasn’t that what every male said? Though Feyre had to admit, Rhys wasn’t like other males. He was different. There was something about him she couldn’t put her finger on.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” She said, unbuttoning his pants, lowering them and his underwear.

As they fell to his ankles, she only had enough time to register two things:

Rhys looked anxious, and his cock was abnormally large and long.

She blinked down at it, unable to form a coherent sentence. While she usually hated the “how will it fit?”, she was seriously considering whether it would actually fit.

She forced her brain to come up with something to say. “Not like other cocks, huh?”

Rhys gulped. “I’ll show you. Please promise me you won’t bolt.”

Feyre nodded, keeping her eyes on her unusual prize. She was horny, and she wanted him to fuck her, but she had to figure out something regarding that—

The cock, already at a size she couldn’t quite grasp, started elongating, with Rhys standing up from his spot on the fountain and putting distance between them with every inch it gained.

Her mind was blank. She wasn’t sure if she was dreaming or if she had eaten something that was affecting her clarity. Her head was spinning and her heart was threatening to jump right out of her chest.

Rhys was now on the other side of the center of the maze, and his cock was long enough to touch her nonetheless, and Feyre—

Feyre ran for her life.

She ran faster than she had ever ran before, and just when she thought she had put enough distance between them, she felt something brushing her ankle. She looked down, screaming at the sight of Rhys’s cock wrapped around her ankle.

Feyre fell, face on the grass. The cock released her ankle.

“Feyre please, I just want to talk. Let me explain.”

Her face was hurting from the impact, and she could feel her nose bleeding. Ignoring the pain, she used that moment to her advantage, standing and running again, without a single clue as to where she was going, seeing as she was in a freaking maze.

Feyre was aware of the ridiculous sight she was making at the moment — running from a prehensile cock and its owner, boobs out and swinging this way and that.

She stopped in front of a narrow path, the only way forward. It was a tight space, and chances she would be hurt in the process were high, but she couldn’t climb up the tall rose wall, so she went in. The skirts of her dress kept getting stuck in the thorns of the roses, but slowing down would mean the cock would catch up to her. While she was horny and would admit she could be talked into letting a prehensile cock fuck her, she was also terrified of how that would work to begin with. Would it hurt? Could he control the length? If that was the case, why hadn’t he just kept it to himself in the first place?

That’s right, she thought to herself. Because he’s a decent man willing to give his partner a choice.

Rhys… poor Rhys. He had begged her not to bolt. She had told him she wouldn’t and had done just that at the first chance she got.

“Feyre please,” he pleaded with her from what she thought was from the other side of the maze wall. “I swear I just want us to talk. You deserve an explanation.”

She did, she was aware of that. She also knew he deserved to be heard. There had to be a reason for whatever was going on. Who was she to judge someone’s physical condition? And besides, how bad could it be? She was scared, but at the same time she was also curious about it.

Making a decision, she slowed down, catching her breath. She was a big girl. She could do this.

Turning around, Feyre went to the exit of the path she was in.

As expected, Rhys came out of the parallel path, his cock now at its usual length.

She suppressed a snort. While she had been busy running naked from the waist up, he had simply decided to run entirely naked altogether.

The man was gorgeous though, like he had been carved by an artist. Even his cock was gorgeous.

“I’m sorry I grabbed your ankle.”

Feyre nodded. “I’m sorry I didn’t give you a chance to explain yourself. I was just…”

“Scared? Taken by surprise?” he said with a knowing tone.

She nodded again.

Rhys sighed. “You wouldn’t be the first. It’s a hard thing to explain.”

Feyre raised an eyebrow. It was a hard thing alright. Rhys caught what she meant and laughed.

“Has it always been like that?” she asked, genuinely curious.

Rhys shook his head. “No. A witch pretending to be a priestess cursed my family line centuries ago because I rejected her advances. It’s been like this ever since.”

“Is there a way to break the spell?”

He looked at her for a moment, taking in her appearance. “The key to breaking the curse would be a willing sexual partner who knows about it and accepts me nonetheless.”

Feyre hummed. So that would explain why he had told her. Did that mean—

“I know what you’re thinking. There hasn’t been a willing sexual partner in quite some time. You’re the first one to even agree to hear me out.”

“That must have been painful for you.” she said, approaching him.

He snorted. “Emotionally and physically, yes.”

Sighing, she stopped in front of him. “Look. The thought of it terrifies me, I won’t lie. But I’m also curious.”

“You… are?”

His unsure tone broke her heart. No one deserved to be feeling what he must have felt all these years.

“I am,” she said, bringing her hand to his cock, stroking it. It was smooth like velvet, which she wasn’t expecting considering how long it could get and how she had been running away from it until a few minutes ago. “I’m also still very turned on.” She went down on her knees, eye level with it. “I’d say that’s a good sign, right?”

Rhys was looking at her like he couldn’t believe his luck, and she used that moment of shock to lick a long stripe up his shaft.

He groaned, and she took him fully in her mouth, one hand gripping him and her other hand finding its way to her clit.

As she sucked and stroked, she felt the world tilting, a weird sensation in her head. She faintly wondered how it would feel if the cock elongated while inside her before her world went fully dark.

“Feyre?”

She groaned, feeling warm all over. She was lying somewhere soft. Had Rhys carried her inside the mansion from the rose maze?

She forced her eyes open, blinking several times, waiting for her eyesight to adjust. Rhys was by her side, her hand in his. He looked disheveled, stressed, tired, and fully clothed.

“Rhys?”

He sighed, sounding relieved. “Hello Feyre darling.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “I was so worried about you.”

“What happened? How did I get here, did you carry me here from the rose maze?”

“The… what now?” he said, wholly confused. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’ve been lying here for a whole week. The fever only broke an hour ago.”

“What fever?”

Rhys blinked. “You don’t remember anything?”

Feyre shook her head.

“Well,” Rhys started, “You got bitten by a venomous snake. Madja gave you the antidote on time but the fever needed a while to fully break — you seriously don’t remember anything?”

“No, I don’t,” She said, sighing. “I must have really been out of it.”

“You kept mumbling things about stargazing and… prehensile cocks the whole time?” he finished with a confused tone. “I’m just glad you’re okay, darling.”

He leaned in to kiss her gently and she returned it. Had it all been a dream?

“Rhys?” she asked tentatively, “can I be honest with you?”

“Always.” He answered immediately.

“I’d have been curious and willing to give it a shot, but I’m glad you don’t have a prehensile cock.”

#feysand #rhysand #feyre archeron #feyre #feysand au #the most unhinged idea i've ever had #also the most unhinged thing i've ever written #and trust me i've written quite a few of them #keep an open mind #and read at your own risk #acotar #acomaf #acowar #feyre x rhys #rhys x feyre #feyre x rhysand #rhysand x feyre

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faerievampling · 15 days

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Killing Time

Chapter 15: Orchestra Discordia

pairing: Ascended Astarion x Vampire Bride Tav (female reader)

word count: 5.7k

warnings: 18+. mention of past assault. symptoms of ptsd and behaviors described. anxiety. Suicidal thoughts. mental health warning overall with this one. PiV. Cunnilingus. Vaginal fingering.

Link to Ao3

Killing Time Masterlist

Astarion’s secrets are spilling out of his hands, frantically trying to keep you in his grasp as you squirm away. You need to think, but you hardly can between Astarion’s hold on you and Lae’zel’s wild bursts of transparent thought. Your senses are being spread thin: you can feel the weight of Astarion’s aura as if it’s trying to absorb you whole. Lae’zel’s thoughts fill your head, but they seem to strangely coincide with your thoughts of Geldon Moth’s words about your husband's misdeeds: how he killed your past lovers, bringing you unwarranted heartbreak.

“Darling, my love, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before,” Astarion pleads with you, refusing to let you go.

“She isn’t angry about the spawn anymore, Lord Astarion.” Angel’s words catch Astarion off guard just enough to where you slip from his grasp, darting across the camp. You can see the indecision in Astarion’s body language, as he can’t seem to decide if he wants to lunge at you or Angel; he ultimately stays put.

“Shit,” Lae’zel curses as Astarion is yelling at Angel to shut his mouth; Lae’zel’s mind is frantic, and you try to stay out, but she’s so transparent her thoughts nearly fall out of her head: she thinks about the letters, the ones she found in Astarion’s office during your captivity – the ones she’s hoping neither of you know about, specifically concerning her finding them.

“Ah, you’re also wrong, you beautiful space elf!” Angel directs to Lae’zel, giving her a wink. “She's not mad about those letters either.”

“What letters?” You ask, looking between the three: Lae’zel has a look of shock on her face, her pointed ears almost flattening under your intense gaze. Her eyes dart over to Astarion, who looks back at her with such malice you fear he may react violently. But he whips his head back at you, his eyes and aura blazing red hot. Angel’s gone, and you don’t realize he’s standing behind you until the others are looking over your shoulder. You know just how much Angel is enjoying this debacle considering he directly provoked it. You want to confront him, but that would need to happen later.

“Astarion?” You ask, but he’s silent for some time. It begins to feel like a staring contest, two vampires locked in a quarreled gaze. You can hear the quick thumping of his heart: he’s nervous.

“Vampires are far too patient” Angel murmurs to himself behind you after some time.

“It was a long time ago, Tav,” Astarion says slowly, his voice a low growl.

You feel Angel’s hand gently brush your hair away from your shoulder. You don’t react, your eyes glued on your husband.

“Tell him what’s on your mind,” Angel whispers to you.

“The lovers. Our past lovers, Astarion. And whatever the hells else I don’t know about.” You pause. “I didn’t even know how fragile our world is – our whole empire. You didn’t think to tell me that? Maybe that is important for me to know?”

Astarion’s expression does not shift, but you do see the turn in his aura: shame. You half expect Astarion to demand privacy, but it truthfully didn’t matter anymore; Angel would know regardless, and Lae’zel is trusted.

“And now, an army of spawn? Hidden letters?” You say, almost laughing a bit, at the sheer concept of hidden letters and an army of spawn. “And Moth. He told me you killed them.”

You can’t help but think of how Moth promised to never take the drow from you. You see the rarity of a vampire in your mind: alive, fucking you gently, more tender than Moth ever did, all for you to have gruesomely killed him. Death had been a mercy for him, but you wonder if you could have eased his pain more. “There were many I cried for, one in particular that Moth mentioned.”

You don’t even know who you’re speaking of, because all you can think about is the drow when you think of ‘past lovers’. But Astarion’s reaction tells you that he knows too well who you mean.

“You don’t even remember his name, Tav…”Astarion begins. You feel layers to this: not only are you realizing your husband has lied to you, but Geldon Moth was telling the truth, and this only works to upset you further. What other truths did Moth tell you about yourself?

You don’t care about the lovers Astarion murdered: not now, anyway. And you hardly care about whatever the letters say: it's likely written in text you can’t even read anymore. And the spawn – no. This is about the fact of the secrets, the lies, the ways he kept your mind away from anything but him: that control. It isn’t like you don’t know your husband is controlling, but far more so than you understood. You just didn’t think Astarion could ever be the cause of your pain. But after a nearly inconceivable amount of time being married to Astarion Ancunín (being his adoration, his greatest desire, his obsession) you know there isn't anything he wouldn't do to ensure that you are his for eternity.

“But I remember the pain,” You say with ill confidence, interrupting him. You begin to smell Angel’s signature scent of fresh grass and ocean. It’s so faint that you almost don’t notice it. “At least I think I do.”

“Oh,” Angel whispers behind you, sounding melancholy. You know he’s absorbing your every thought, and you realize he may be trying to soothe you with his scent – or manipulate you. The issue is you can’t tell which is which anymore, from Angel or Astarion. Angel had helped you, certainly, but you had saved yourself from the flames of the Moth estate. And Astarion…

Your heart has long dropped to your gut. There is almost a whirring in your chest, some stir of – you don’t even know what. It feels hollow, and you can’t help but put your palm over where your dead heart is. You don’t remember what it feels like for it to beat, but you know it’s there. Why does it feel so empty right now?

“I-I don't feel good,” You say, your eyes darting to the sky. The sun is up, now, and you step away from the shade of camp, basking in warm rays. You see a vision: a flicker of the sword, edged between stone and soot, nearly just below your feet.

You feel Astarion’s presence behind you. He’s close, but he doesn’t touch you. The gentle thrum of his heart can be heard by you, and you try to shake it off. “You know I did all of those things for us.”

After just a beat, “Look at me, my love.” His voice is stern, and you don’t want to listen – you want to defy. You are fucking tired of listening to others, and you’re angry Astarion would hurt you so: not entirely surprised, but angry. You think of how he’s withheld spoken words of love from you for so long, using everything he could to keep you submitted to him, just as he did with the letters, the lovers; your mind swims with the possibilities of Astarion’s further unknown misdeeds.

“Tav.” He becomes desperate, his voice rugged and rough; it makes you feel even lower. You turn, facing your breathtaking husband. He looks so gorgeous in the sunlight, and his aura is practically jumping at you. His curls are messy, sprawling about in a way that makes him look rogue. His scarlet eyes lock with yours, and you see it in his very soul: you know how deeply he desires you, how much this pains him.

Your inner turmoil coils around your heart as Astarion evenly pleads with you. “We should finish what we need to do here, and then we can go home. I’ll tell you everything, anything you want to know.”

The influence of Angel’s sight leads your gaze over Astarion’s shoulder where Angel stands in the foreground. He appears to be quite sad, twirling the ends of his hair in his thick fingers as the two of you make eye contact. You quickly focus back on Astarion, silently cursing a pouting Angel.

You don’t know how long it is before you answer, but you know Astarion is right. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Astarion asks, his tone hopeful, his hand outstretched towards you. You take it, and he gives you a small smile in response: but you can’t reciprocate.

You blink, shaking your head. “I’ve never hidden anything from you, Astarion. Ever. My mind has been yours since the moment you made me. But you’veâ€¦”

Your memories come flooding back to you, and they are so vivid, it almost feels like you’re having a vision: but they are just memories, here to torment you despite whatever it is you were doing just before. You think about all the times Astarion called you his spawn, putting you below him with his words, refusing to tell his godsdamned wife he loves her.

“No more talking. Call your spawn, husband, and let’s finish this.”

Astarion’s mask falters for just a moment before he relents.

****

“I want it,” You whine, Angel keeping his hands on your shoulders as Astarion’s spawn retrieves the sword from the stone: you seem to be the only one so affected by the sword, your fingers twitching at just the thought of wielding itâ€¦

“It’s all up in your head 'cause you keep thinking about it. Just stop!” Angel replies; far easier said than done, but what the hells does Angel know, anyway?

The entrance to the Underdark is just under your feet; this feels surreal to you as you carefully enter on a bridge of rubble. It’s a strange place, the Underdark: everywhere you look, there is glowing light amidst darkness, but it doesn’t cover up the scent of decay and rot. You seem to be in an ancient temple. You’re unable to place whichever god it was built for as your knowledge of the culture of the under-races is quite limited.

“Your knowledge on most things is, like, not much. You know that?” Angel murmurs to you, his thick fingers pressing against your skin. You desperately want him to let go, because you want nothing more than to rip the sword from the fumbling spawn’s grasp, freeing it yourself, before reaping. “Ugh. I’d rather you think about your usual stuff, like drinking blood, Astarion’s cock, oh, mine too of course.”

“Enough,” Lae’zel says, looking at to Angel. “Why is it that you want this corrupted treasure?”

You can hear the smile on Angel’s face. “Power.”

Lae’zel’s eyes flicker over to yours, meeting them: you know she’s worried about Angel’s involvement in your life, and what this means for the future. Astarion only watches, keeping his distance as he stares holes into Angel. You would have trouble ignoring the slightly frightening nature of Astarion’s aura if it hadn’t been for the all-consuming sword: his aura, black and red and pink, muddled and quite large, is doing what it can to make its way to you even from across the room. It unsettles you not to know what he’s thinking or how he’s explicitly feeling; seeing only a visual makes you even more unsure of your footing.

The moment the sword is freed from its stony prison by two faceless spawns, Angel hands you over to Astarion, who very tentatively puts his hands on your shoulder, just as Angel had. But his grip is greater than firm, and you think he may not realize how hard he’s grabbing you.

Angel glances over at you before waving his hands over the sword, and whatever he does next greatly relaxes you, the tension in your body easing up. You half-expect Astarion to relax as well, but his grip doesn’t ease. Instead, one hand moves to the back of your neck.

“Wonderful! I’ll be able to summon them to my domain, now,” Angel smiles triumphantly. You see his eyes dart over to Astarion, the tension greatly rising between the two. Lae’zel also seems to notice, appearing even more uneasy than she had before.

“‘Summon them?’” You say, repeating his phrase, signaling you don’t know what the hells he’s talking about.

“‘To my domain,’ yes, beautiful. You always have an open invitation, Tav~”

“What purpose does the son of Lastai have for souls?” Lae’zel inquires suspiciously.

“Ascension,” Astarion says, his voice deadpan. One of his hands trails down your arm, his fingers wrapping around your wrist. “Trying to craft your fortune, Angel?”

Angel, ignoring Astarion’s words, gives Astarion his most dashing smile before turning to you. You see a flash of discomfort overcome him, but it ends so quickly you hardly know if it was ever there. “I won’t be sacrificing them or anything. They’ll be happy with me, so don’t worry about it. But I know that you won’t, beautiful. You have way too much goin’ on up there as it is.”

Angel means to say more, you can tell, but he promptly disappears, blowing you a kiss before vanishing, leaving you in the ruins of the temple. Astarion plants a kiss on the crown of your head, pressing his nose to your scalp before releasing you. You travel back in silence, trudging through the ruins and wilderness once more, finding your way back to your portal point. You ignore the spawn, the ones Astarion commands to stay in the Underdark until nightfall: Angel only extended some veil of protection over them while he was still here, and his powers left with him. Fucking Angel.

****

You and Astarion return to your bedroom after seeing Lae’zel off upon arriving at your palace; you and Astarion help each other get your armor off, not bothering to call for the maids. Even through this, the two of you work in the quiet, only the crackling of the fire filling the room. Even your new bathing ritual is hushed more so than usual. Astarion washes you first, taking his time with your hair: unable to work it out during camp, it’s still tangled from your fleshly activities of fucking and fighting. Astarion gently brushes out every knot to perfection. You nearly lose yourself to his touch as he massages your scalp, his fingertips pressing little in circles, making your entire body shiver.

His touch is peace, for now, and you can’t help but want to enjoy it, grasping onto semblances of comfort and trust. You want it, so badly.

Once it’s his turn, you feel compelled to help him: to touch his curls, his soft skin, to be close to his beating heart. But Astarion makes quick work of his wash as you dry off, slipping on a deep purple robe. It’s better this way: his touch is electrifying in a way you can’t seem to handle. It makes you feel like something inside of you is wrong. It’s wrong and bad.

“I’m going to sit in the library for a bit. Alone,” You say, looking back at him before opening the door to your bedroom. Astarion’s aura makes your gut twist, causing you to grip the doorknob so tightly you fear you may bend the material. You force yourself to take a deep breath. pain. fear. love.

“I really would prefer you to stay here,” Astarion’s voice is low. “After everything you’ve been through, we’ve been through, you really shouldn’t leave my side.”

You attempt to lighten the mood. “Tell me what threat could be waiting for me in the library, Astarion.”

“Papercuts,” Astarion moves closer to you, pulling you into an embrace. His colors change, the red hues turning pink, the black dissipating: as if you are the sickness and the cure. His hand moves to cup your breast, giving you a seductive smile. “A very serious threat.”

Astarion’s hands begin to roam your body, goosebumps covering your exposed skin. You feel your cunt involuntarily contract as your core begins to build with pressure. The scent of your arousal is already in the air, the needy thing that you are – even your fangs ache for him. His eyes are lidded, and you feel him press his torso to you. His cock is already hard, gently grinding into you.

His expression softens as his palm slips between your robes, moving to cup your naked sex. His hand is warm between your legs. “I think there’s something else you need, my love.”

You can’t help but whimper as your body reacts to his practiced touch. Astarion unties your robe before you can react, exposing your body to him; he sweeps his eyes over you slowly, leaving you feeling a bit embarrassed at his inspection.

“I think you need me,” Astarion whispers as he slips a finger between your folds, feeling the buildup of your slick desire. His finger teases the seam of your cunt, making you tremble when the pad of his thumb grazes your puffy clitoris, already swollen from anticipation. “You need me to take your pain away. You need me inside of you.”

Grabbing you by the waist, Astarion’s lips crash into yours as he leads you to your bed, your robe left on the floor. You can’t help but accept his advances when his tongue tastes so sweet. His palms fervently grip the curve of your hips, caressing your body as if you were something new to explore. Two thousand years and the passion of the bedroom never died – this is what those bards should write about, you think.

“Mm,” Astarion lets a moan escape his lips before deepening the kiss. Once you’re on your back, Astarion’s lips are gentle on you, peppering over your face and neck, trailing saliva along the shell of your ear, as if he can’t get enough of your taste.

“I’ll make it right, my love,” Astarion whispers, his voice smooth and deep in your ear, causing pulsations at your core. You let yourself enjoy it, moaning as Astarion tugs at your pebbled nipple. He gently pulls at your other breast before sliding his hand down your belly, bringing his hand back between your legs. His touch makes you feel tingly down to your toes. The warmth of his hand feels like home; maybe he’s right, you think. Maybe all you need is him.

“My wife,” Astarion whispers. “My savior…”

Astarion moves between your legs, and you can see how excited he is: his cock is as hard as ever, looking almost painful as clear liquid pools at his tip. His eyes are heavy but alert, his lips parted as his other hand moves to your knee. He parts your legs, spreading you open to reveal your pink, wet core to him.

“Fuck,” Astarion curses, his hand moving to part your folds: using his finger and thumb, he exposes you fully, even pulling back the little hood of your clitoris. “You’re exquisite. So beautiful, pink…pretty, my sweet girl.” Astarion’s eyes are glued to your core, speaking to her rather than you.

“Star…” You say, shifting away from him just a little. You’re more than aware he can see all your scars, especially the ones you rather he didn’t.

“You don't need to shy around me, my love,” He says gently, but his face is stern. He gives you an intense look before dipping his head and placing the sweetest, most sincere kiss on your entrance. He flutters his lashes at you as he brings his lips to your swollen nub, circling your sensitive, pretty pearl with his tongue and lips.

You can’t help but deeply sigh, falling in love with Astarion’s tongue all over again as he deeply kisses your swollen folds. Placing his nose on the top of your mound, Astarion inhales the scent of your arousal.

Running the bridge of his nose along your sensitive lips, you can’t help the squeak that slips out of you, girlish and needy. His lips feel incredible on your wet core; it has been so long since he’s made love to you with his mouth, and Moth was rarely concerned for your pleasure.

This line of thought becomes a trap for you, thinking about Geldon Moth and his large, rather frightening claws gripping your body, tearing into your flesh. With this, your mind starts to drift from you entirely. You think about how you wished for Astarion to save you, how he had vowed to protect you for eternity. You just can’t help it: his secrets, his lies, the pain, his finger sliding between your tight walls, only for your cunt to pull him deeper: you feel ashamed taking him so effortlessly. His nimble fingers are gentle, only pushing inside of you to the second knuckle, despite your body’s slick protests for more. Why are you always so pliant when the memories of the past dance in your skull? They are a macabre reenactment of your torture. Not to mention all these feelings. The more complicated ones, the ones that make you feel bad – was it not below you to waste your time with them?

For a moment, disgust washes over you so harshly it makes you want to tear yourself apart. Your mind jumps to your moments with Moth and the drow, when you took at the same time with ease: they were practiced, and Moth relentlessly mocked you for your lewd, reactive body.

One thing is certain: your mind is all over the place, and you must search for something to bring you back together. Closing your eyes, you remind yourself of the one truly tangible thing Astarion has that Moth and the drow didn’t: life. His life sustains you: his life is what allowed you to walk in the sun, to make your spawn – even your resilience to Moth’s torture was because of Astarion’s bloodline. His blessing. Had it not been so, you would still be there, slowly rotting, a pleasure slave for eternity.

“Astarion,” you whisper, your voice coming out husky, surprising even you: you didn’t realize how badly you want him.

“Yes?” Astarion is already drunk on your kisses. His lids are heavy. In his hazy state, you put your hands on his chest, urging him to roll over, placing yourself on top. Astarion hesitates for a moment, the look in his eyes presenting a brief challenge.

“I want to bite you,” You say, your voice as tantalizing as can be as your hand traces down to his thigh, moving between his legs. “Right here.”

You do want to be close to him – to be intimate with him; you think maybe it will help you forgive and get over some of those bad feelings. You just want everything to go back to the way it was, at this point.

And with your words of seduction, Astarion gives up his power play, relenting to you as he eagerly positions himself for comfort. Idly, he pops his finger into his mouth, sucking at your juices, drooling at the taste of you. You move between his legs, your eyes glued to the length of his fully hard cock: long, thick, you can see the blue of his veins bulging from smooth, pink skin. His tip, so swollen and pinker than the rest, throbs for you. His entire groin twitches at your inspection, more clear liquid flowing from his tip. He is rather cute like this, you think.

Astarion spreads his legs, pulling a knee up to give you easier access to his smooth, pale thigh. His skin is so perfect, entirely unmarked save for the scars on his back. This makes you all too aware of your marred nakedness.

“See what you do to me, Tav?” Astarion asks, the desperation thick in his voice; his heart is racing, His eyebrows knit together, and he’s showing his fangs to you in a mix of carnal desire and aggression, begging you to take charge of his pleasure. He’s wrapped a hand around his shaft, gently stroking his sensitive foreskin, shifting his hips as he grinds into himself. His other hand moves to caress your face; you close your eyes, allowing yourself to fall into the warmth of his palm. Before you know it, you’ve buried your face in his thigh; you tease him with the tip of your nose, dragging it along his smooth skin before finding the perfect spot to slide your fangs in.

Astarion gasps as you pierce his flesh, losing yourself in his delicious essence. His blood is so sweet, thick like honey on the tongue, and it’s as if this is what you’ve been missing. You drink from him for some time, slowly letting his rich essence hit your tongue, savoring every sip. You lazily stroke his cock, your hand gliding over his shaft with ease.

“My love – please,” He is a whimpering mess beneath you, his body trembling at your every touch. His thigh is so tender, and he twitches at every lick, every kiss like you are lightning. The tip of his cock weeps precome, the clear, sticky liquid becoming your lubricant as you work out all those little noises of him.

You finally release yourself when you feel Astarion go slack beneath you. You know you’ve taken too much blood from him, but he would regenerate quickly; when you pull away to inspect your master, you can see the pink rising back to his cheeks, his powerful ascendant body making quick work of his blood loss. The puncture wounds close up, unlike the ones that litter your body or your face, never to heal. Damaged property.

The two of you look deeply into each other's eyes; Astarion’s looking at you reverently, his pupils blown wide, sweat dripping from his brow. “You really want me, Astarion?”

You know the answer to your question is a resounding yes by the way his cock still twitches in your palm. But you hardly feel like Astarion’s beautiful consort, anymore: more like a pathetic, wounded animal; you feel lower just thinking this way.

“Of course. Yes. Tav, darling, you are the only thing –” Astarion proclaims, words failing him as he can see the discontent in your features. He struggles to answer as all his blood seems to reside in his painfully hard cock; his brain is hazy, but his eyes are desperate. “I told you so long ago that you complete me. You are my everything. And that has always been true. I love you more than the sun. I love you more than life itself.”

His words provoke something within you. You feel a surging run through your body as you straddle him, feeling your heart drop down to your core. Astarion sits up, his arms wrapping around your back as he settles you on his lap. His cock rests just between your spread folds, making you only hungrier for him. You want him inside you: take my pain away, Astarion.

For one thing, his blood is just never enough and you always want more. And his body: it drives you mad. His perfect skin, so smooth and hairless despite his masculine build – a stunning elf. One that you love so much, you just want to eat him whole. Maybe if you consume his heart, it will make up for his lies, his control, his manipulations, and his refusal to verbally share his love for so long, gods has he been selfish with you.

You take his jaw in your hand, and with the other, you harshly pull back his hair, now forcing him to your attention: he had freely given it to you, but now, you won’t let him rescind it. It is your time to be selfish with him.

“Tell me you’re mine,” You say, your voice coming out quiet and cold.

Astarion doesn’t hesitate. His cock is so hard it aches, and he’s irritated at your relentless teasing, you can tell. You’re grinding your slick folds down his shaft as he speaks. “I’m yours – ah..”

“Tell me you love me.” You hardly realize you’re crying until you taste the salt of your tears. Astarion kisses them, his warm hands feverishly groping your naked body. You don’t want to do this to him, but you can’t help it when you bring your hand down to his neck, freeing his curls from your grasp. You squeeze. Astarion isn’t afraid by any means, but you can tell your motions surprise him.

But you know he loves it. “I love you, Tav.”

You push Astarion onto his back. Bending over, your tears are dripping down your cheek onto Astarion’s face. You realize he’s crying, too, and your tears are mixing on his chin. You’re looking right into his scarlet eyes, and he truly has nowhere to run: he must accept your pain fully, and join in it with you.

But why? Why must I take him with me? Am I truly any better, if I punish him? “Tell me again,” you say as you’ve made up your mind.

“I love you!” Astarion almost sounds breathless. His face is twisted with desperation; you realize you may be hurting him as you gently kiss his lips, but your twisted affections are interrupted by a sob as you begin to fall apart.

“Again! Tell me!” You can’t hold it in, anymore, and Astarion is scrambling. The two of you are still entirely naked, but your passions now reside within rather than in the flesh.

“I love you, I love you, I love you…”Astarion murmurs these words over and over as your lips trail over his face, and his ears but your sobs interrupt your work. You’ve collapsed in his arms, your chest violently heaving as you struggle to catch a breath. You cry like this for some time, expecting to feel some sort of relief, but your pain only builds. Has it been there this whole time, left to fester?

“Why?” You keep asking, and you know Astarion knows what you mean.

Why would you hurt me like this?

How could you let me be taken?

How could you not protect me?

You suddenly feel quite angry, your emotional attack turning into a tantrum. “You promised! You swore to protect me!”

“Tav!”

You start hitting Astarion’s chest, your frustrations surging from your arms, your fists meeting his sternum with every sob. Your violence reminds you of Moth, of his dying gurgles, of how you couldn’t stop hitting him, either. The thought just upsets you further. Astarion permits your behavior for only a few moments before he takes your wrists in his hand; the two of you are locked in a struggle. He forces you below him, but not without difficulty: you are strong and truly fighting against him now. You can tell this surprises him because you have the upper hand for just a moment when a surge of radiant light comes from within you, burning him to the touch. His hold on you wavers for just a moment before his hands are back on you, throwing his thigh over you to cage you beneath him.

“I hate you! I hate you!” You manage to yell through your sobs, hoping this hurts him the most. “I hate you!”

Astarion holds your wrists above your head, his hand firm on your neck, his lips crashing violently into yours as he brings you into a kiss. He’s rough with you, his teeth cutting into the pad of your bottom lip, drawing blood. You feel your crimson pool down your chin as Astarion laps at it hungrily, kissing and licking and sucking at your skin, leaving more bites and nips in their wake. When he releases you, Astarion’s eyes are wild, filled with tears that streak his face, bloody fangs bared as he looks down at you.

“Don’t. Don't you ever say that again! You don’t mean that.” Astarion’s words are harsh, but his tone flounders. His tears continue to fall, mixing with the blood on his jaw, making pretty tears of pink down his throat. Astarion’s hands become forceful with your body once more, signaling he means to take you, even if it’s against your will: but his display of dominance falters, his heart becoming too big for his chest, as if he just came to realize how he was acting. Releasing your neck, he studies your face before wearily resting his forehead on your chest, pushing the crown of his head beneath your chin. “You can’t mean that.”

You can only cry in response, begging him to let you go; but his aura and the look that was in his eyes for a moment, you aren’t sure if he will. But Astarion wearily relents, reigning himself in, pushing himself off the bed as he frustratingly targets his inner turmoil at himself, balling his hands into fists. You smell freshly drawn blood, watching as it drips from his palms, straight onto the floor.

Seeing his blood pooled, even if it was only a few drops, makes you stir inside. You know you must leave: you have to leave, lest you attack him. Right now, you would love nothing more than to utterly lay ravage onto him, biting and nipping and sucking and feeding; fucking. A full-on desecration of your beautiful husband, earning your sweet revenge, your dominance, your power. You can feel your mouth salivate, your stomach twisting with that dark hunger as your upset grows. You wipe your cheeks, nearly slapping your tears away as you feel your sight leading you over to the door: even Angel is urging you to run from this. Your desire for power can’t be accounted for by anything but something disturbed within you: your sick mind, that inner beast that seems to feel bigger each day. You’re cursing at yourself as you jump out of bed, hastily throwing on a robe before storming out the door. You feel only heartache and loathing as you retreat to one of the libraries in your estate. You’ve torn it apart before you even realize it, clawing the wood, shredding spines, creating a wake of chaos. You don’t stop until you realize you’ve knocked over one of the decanters of wine, where your attention is quickly directed.

Sitting on the floor amidst the ruined library, you drink straight from the bottle, not bothering to prepare yourself a glass; you are far past that, gulping down your rage, pain, all your confliction. You find an intact daybed in a deep nook of the library; curling up with the wine bottle, you hold yourself, allowing the sun’s rays to hit your skin as you drift off into a dreamless slumber.

#astarion x reader #ascended astarion #astarion x you #soft ascended astarion #lord astarion #astarion fanfiction #astarion x female tav #astarion x tav #killing time

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ruthplaysthesims · 1 month

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"The days leading up to the wedding were rather quiet since I hadn't received any news from Aunt Berta about her arrival. Mrs. Charm remained silent as well. I still didn't have the courage to venture into the portal in the middle of the water. The sender of the roses still remained a mystery, but I didn't dwell on it much as the secret poet never contacted me again. Deciding to focus on something productive, I went searching for more crystals. The crystal tree hadn't yielded any lately, and I wanted to craft a meaningful wedding gift. While digging, I heard strange swooshing sounds in the air. Turning around, I spotted a man wielding what appeared to be magic. It was my first encounter witnessing a spellcaster in action, and I was captivated—not just by his magical abilities but also by his striking appearance. He had a tan complexion, long black hair, and heterochromatic eyes—one blue, one brown—giving him a uniquely alluring aura. I couldn't help but stare, transfixed by his intense focus. Suddenly, he glanced in my direction, catching me off guard. I tried to play it cool with a wave, attempting to conceal my flustered state. He returned the gesture casually before walking away. I stayed put, watching him head towards the portal, disappearing before I could even blink. Who was he? I knew I'd have to ask Aunt Berta for answers."

- Raina A.

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#sims 4 gameplay #the sims community #sims 4 story #ts4 simblr #sims 4 cc #simblr #the sims 4 #ruthplaysthesims #sims4 #raina almeida*#raina's diaries*#Who do we have here?!👀👀👀

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husbandohunter · 3 years

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Dear Father [Genshin Impact/Diluc x Reader]

Synopsis: Wherever you are wherever you may be, even if you are beyond my reach, I only wish to see you again. -from a letter lost in the wind.

(A story where you and Diluc somehow managed to meet Crepus)

Genre: all fluff

"I know how late I am to father's day but here's my father's day take on Genshin Impact! Just let Diluc be happy for once T_T Mihoyo pls."

============================

Discovering Master Crepus' old belongings was like wandering in a domain surrounded by ancient artifacts. Each piece holding the memory of someone you've never met.

The paintings. Master Crepus loved to paint. Typically birds were the main muse of this portraits since they deeply embodied Mondstadt's values for freedom which shows you how much he cherished this city just like his son did. In almost every hallway you walked through there was a collection of his paintings, some belonged to another artist but the majority was an original work. Diluc didn't have the heart to sell them.

Elzer. He was one of the oldest workers who served under the Ragnvindr name, ever since Master Crepus had appointed him during his earlier days. You were told that he treated everyone, both staff and noble, with equal respect. Almost all the denizens of Mondstadt knew this man for he was not only noble in riches but also in the soul.

"I'm sure he would have loved to meet you in person. Now that I think about it, you and Master Crepus are quite similar. Haha, it seems that Master Diluc was selective in terms of who he wanted for his future bride."

Elzer adds with a light chuckle but the statement only made you more curious. A man who affected the lives of so many others, he must have been a wonderful person.

Diluc. The bloodline Master Crepus left behind after his death, a piece of himself and the heir to the whole wine industry, his son Diluc. Although you could see the resemblance in appearance, both of them were men of prinicples and values, putting Mondstadt first before anything else and you suddenly realized if that was the reason why Diluc was so protective of this city. As if, it were everything he had? You could tell he loved Master Crepus very much, not because he said so, rather the painful expression buried deep within his crimson glare whenever someone brought up the topic. Diluc was skilled in hiding himself, it's something he practiced over the years of working alone, though he lowered his guard as long as you were the only one present.

Even so, he had many conflicts still wringing him internally and you didn't want to push him until the day he felt ready to personally tell you himself.

But it would be nice if he opened up, just a little bit.

There were times when you would worry since Diluc had the tendency to hide his feelings for the sake of not troubling you. He wanted to keep life simple and bright, bringing the best to the table while making sure that you lived safely out of harm's way. You couldn't seem to get him to understand that as lovers, you would be happy to help him, in anything. Unconditionally. It was natural for you to feel the need to force yourself in every once in a while and there was nothing more you wanted to know than the story of the man who raised him.

You would even jest on the idea of what it fel like to meet Master Crepus in person. Were you able to reach his standards by any chance? Would he have liked you just as everyone claimed? Of course, they were only silly indulgent thoughts so you quickly dismissed them in the end. Bringing back the past was impossible no matter how badly you wanted it. You closed your heart on that possibility.

On a lovely evening, while you and Diluc were taking your time off Angel's Share to make a stroll around Mondstadt's quiet streets, a strange merchant called over to you. She displayed various antiques ranging from different sizes to designs, none of them seemed to haven been carved in the same place but distinct cultures throughout Teyvat. The only thing they had in common was that they were all equally beautiful to the eye.

However a particular item of what looks like to be a heart locket snatches your attention and you instantly became mesmerized, allured by it's mysterious charm.

"Ah, the locked heart caught your fancy, my lady? It's said once you open it, you will be set free."

"It's magnificent..." you muttered, staring unabashed at the shining surface.

Diluc who was observing from behind folded his arms and tilts his head, "How much is that?"

Although you intended to simply inspect the choices, your lover immediately offers to pay. They all already gave the impression of a hefty price and you didn't want him to spend his fortune on things that deemed unecessary. Still, this wasn't the first time it happened. Diluc would always insist whenever you protested against him from buying anything, it was just a way of expressing his affections towards you. Mora was never a problem and you were priceless. That's how he sees things. You had to remind yourself to be careful when stumbling upon a bustling area full of salesmen next time.

"Five hundred thousand mora."

He purchased it without hesitation.

On your way home, Diluc noticed that something was amiss. You couldn't tear your gaze from the locket as if it had hypnotized you by the golden smooth surface. He had to ensure you didn't run into anyone by accident, tugging your arm closer so that it gave him an opportunity to lead you where you yourself could not. Surely it must have been the appearance but instead of being drawn by, you were drawn in. Completely.

I wonder...what will happen if I open it?

"(Y/n)?" Diluc narrows his eyebrows together. Did you like it that much? No, he knew you weren't the type to be so etranced by jewelry, this was certainly different. Even the merchant seemed a little suspicious when she approached you and Diluc couldn't ignore the heavy sense of aminosity that was emitted around her aura. He couldn't think within her presence but now that his mind was much clearer, he was able to use his skillful judgements.

"Wait...! Don't open it yet-"

However, he was too late.

The wind picks up at an alarming speed and you both brought up your arms to block the debris that had flown in the way. They swirled in non-stop motion until your worlds were engulfed with not even the sky in sight. Amidst the turmoil Diluc latchest onto you and holds your body close his chest as he was determined to protect against any force that dared to hurt you. Something heavy knocks his head and he winces, tighting his hold even further. Your voice could hardly be heard with all the noise that rung around and eventually you discovered the the world wasn't disappearing. You both were.

The last thought you had was the image of Master Crepus and you didn't know why.

---

"Diluc? Diluc?"

He faintly heard his name through a series of echoes. Diluc fights to regaind concousness, feeling your grip upon his shoulder while trying to urge him awake.

"Diluc are you alright?"

Your worried face was the first thing he sees other than the fog that looms above. Diluc blinks a few times in an attempt to ease his migraine, using one arm to force his body into a seating position as he allowed himself to be supported by you at the same time.

"Does your head hurt?" You ask, palming gently against his forehead to feel the heat. Even if her was usually very warm, there was no unusual rise in tempurature, something must have hit him instead, "Here, maybe this will help."

Bringing out your hand you concentrated on generating the water through your fingertips. Having a hydro vision meant you were capable of healing magic which Diluc appreciated since he often came home late at night with injuries hidden behind his sleeves. But nothing came out and he became even more suspicious of the situation.

"Eh? What's going on?" You blurted out, patting down your clothes and your pockets, "My Vision, it's gone too!"

"Mine as well," Diluc flexes his fingers to test his own element, "It seems that our powers were sealed once we entered this domain."

"A domain that prevents you from using a Vision? That doesn't sound very comforting," you scratched your head, suddenly remembering the cause of your current problem, "The locket...it's all starting to make sense now. Ugh, I should have listened to you earlier, I'm sorry Diluc."

"No (Y/n), you don't have to apologize," he interjects and you returned a curious glance, "I should have stopped you the minute I discovered there was something strange. I was too careless."

"You felt that too? I thought I was the only one," your tone and face mimics one of surprise. The fog continues to dance around, enclosing the two of you to the small area. You lifted your head and looked above in deep contemplation, "When I saw the locket I couldn't tear my eyes off of it, like something was pulling me in. Like...there was a spell casted on it."

"What do you mean?" he asked in an inquisitive manner.

You nod, "I can't put my finger on it bit Ifel that the locket wanted me to..." balling your fist upon your lap, you stared intensely at the floor as if drilling holes into them while digging into the depths of your mind for any specific clues. Initially you thought the locket was so captivating that you were simply charmed by it's craftmanship. But tere was more than that, you began deciphering, there was also a need for fulfillment. A yearning desire, "to know. The locket was calling me to know."

'Once you open it, you will be set free.'

"To know..." you trailed off. How strange. No matter how much you tried to rationalize, you were always brought back to the same square as if the locket knew exactly what you wanted. What you were lacking. Because the one thing you wanted to know most about was the person you've never met, "Someone very important to you."

The fog dispersed.

Diluc instinctively puts an arm in front of you defensively as he scanned his quick and thorough eyes around the area. It didn't take long for him to know exactly where everything was. In fact, the abrupt change isn't what puts him on high alert, but it was how familiar everything looked to the point he evaluates if there was any reason to be skeptical or if he should be breathtaken.

"What a beautiful house," However you didn't recognize it. Diluc knew because he had yet to meet you during the time he lived in this estate, "I wonder who does it belong to?"

"Father's old mansion...how?" Diluc breatlessly mutters, as if seeing the supremecy of Celestia for the first time. When years passed after his father died, he chose to sell off the majority of his belongings, the mansion being on for example. Currently it was in the possession of a well-known business associate that used to be a friend of Crepus. The mansion would likely have looked much different due to the renovations it gone through but Diluc remembers the picture as if this were yesterday. Everything was in tact. The vine yard, the gazebo where they drank tea, the hill that he and Kaeya used to race on when they were kids-

Revelation burns in his pupils as his eyes expanded.

"Welcome home, my son."

Both you and Diluc fall wordless at the sight that appeared like a miracle's blessing. Crepus stands at a distance, the graceful smile complimenting his warm features. He looked exactly how the court artists portrayed him in the Ragnvindr's family picture. Sharp face with gentle eyes and an aura that was as pleasant as what Elzer described.

"So this is why the locket was calling to us," you whispered, "I guess the mora really was worth it after all."

"...Fa...ther...."

You snuck a glance at Diluc. From behind the resemblance was as clear as dawn, like you were staring at a carbon copy of Master Crepus himself. Almost. He was a less hardened version of Diluc during uncommon situations. It made you think just how much you didn't know before his father passed away. What kind of person was this man during his days as a knight? You never had the chance to know.

"Father is that really you?" Diluc couldn't help his voice from trembling, paralyzed in place when he could hardly make sense of what stands in front of him. The person he longed to hear from, the person who left the world too quick, Diluc was afraid to get his hopes up in case his father suddenly disappeared and everything was just an illusion conjured by his mind. He was already used to being betrayed and dealt with disappointment too often. Which is why he learned to trust only himself. But, right now, can he really trust himself?

Feeling your hand gently on his shoulders, Diluc was brought back to reality. You smiled with warm reassurance that bled into your voice, "It's okay Diluc. Go, I'm here for you."

There was the faintest light shining in his eyes as emotions swell in his chest. Ever since you came Diluc never had to feel alone anymore, truly, you were the light that was brought back into his eyes, to his life when he gave up the thought of seeing it again. If he couldn't trust himself then at the very least, he could trust you.

"Thank you," he embraces you wholly like you were everything, and you were, before letting go and taking off to the otherside.

The air hits him in a rush and knocks the ones out of his lungs, "Father!" Diluc yells with tearful eyes. For the first time in a long while he was finally letting his feelings run free, "Father!" A name that felt foreign upon words that is pushes him forward, wanting to claim the truth that was smiling from afar.

"Father!"

Crepus lifted his arms and openly catches Diluc when he crashed into him. Here. He was here. He certainly was.

"Haha its been a while hasn't it my son?" He begins, encasing Diluc in a hug like he did the day he turned eighteen. Crepus was a tall man and his genes seemed to have went through. Back when they were younger, Diluc managed to only reach the blade of his shoulders, just barely. Now they were practically the same height, "Look how much you've grown over the years. There were so many things I planned to say but I don't know where to start."

Seven years. That was how long Crepus spent alone with his thoughts. He saw what happened through that time span, the truth about the Knights and Kaeya's origins. To say that none of that bothered him would be a lie. Especially when his son was the most impacted throughout all the events.

"Father I...I-" Diluc tries to speak but the words dissolved the moment it reached his tongue. He wasn't the type to be very good at expressing emotions. None of it could simply be communicated by sentences. For him, actions spoke louder yet somehow, they still wouldn't be enough. Nothing can comprehend the weight of seven years.

Crepus seemed to have understood and fills in the gap instead, "I have also missed you and Kaeya. More than I can even say. It must have been so hard for you both to endure it all by yourselves. Life hits us when we least expect it but despite that, you still chose to persevere."

Diluc clenches his hold, face buried in his shoulders and mouth quivering as he barely answers, "Yeah."

"You're both my pride and joy no matter what happens, as a father I cannot be more proud," before knowing, everything that was said came out naturally from his spirit. Crepus may have his own set of things to share but he knew what Diluc needed the most, "So please don't stop relying on one another, don't always think that you have to do everything alone. Stength is a virtue. However, its okay to let go and allow new people to come into your life. I don't need to be avenged, as long as you and Kaeya are happy, its all I ask for."

As if the world had been lifted from his shoulders, Diluc allows himself to break just this once. On the outside, he was known to be an unstoppable force, the Mondstadt tycoon, the uncrowned king and a hero who serves at night. But here you saw only a boy who dearly missed his father as he hugs him tightly. Although you couldn't hear their conversation clearly, just watching them from where you stood was enough to make your eyes glisten from pure happiness.

"You finally chose to open your heart, right Diluc?" You quietly note to yourself, "You don't have to carry everything by yourself anymore, you're free."

'Once you open it, you will be set free.'

He was able to dwell in this one in a lifetime experience, all because you unlocked the heart and dispersed the fog inside.

They spent a good amount of minutes bringing the distance back together after being seperated for so many years. You made sure to make minimal movements in the consideration of their time. It was only temporary until Crepus noticed you standing in the distance and he gave you a quick glance. Your whole body tenses in response, suddenly feeling guilty as if you were a third wheel who didn't belong in the moment between two family members.

He's staring at me. Diluc's father is staring at me! Your thoughts panicked along with your thrumming heart. What should I do?!!

"I see you've brought someone along with you," He comments, the playfulness rising in his tone, "She seems to have been waiting for quite a while already. If you don't mind, may you do the honours of introducing her to me?"

Diluc turns to see you stiffened in place with your hands tightly clasped below your stomach and heat pooling from your ear to your cheeks as you dipped your head down. His father was a kind man and he couldn't understand there the discomfort came from, yet found it endearing nonetheless. Diluc walks over to you and extends his hand, silently urging you to come with him. You complied, albeit hesitantly at first.

"It'll be okay my love," he whispered softly, causing you to be taken aback by the nickname he called you by. Diluc often reserves them for special instances and this was one of them, "Whatever the staff told you about my father, they're the truth. Trust in their judgement. Trust in me."

"Diluc..." you say, voice fading. You knew him to be someone who always kept his word and someone who would never lie to you. Taking in a short breath, you nodded, "Alright, I will," and followed his lead.

There was once a time where you indulged in the idea of facing Master Crepus in person. But never did you prepare yourself for the amount of pressure it came with. Now that you were together with his son, there was a high chance that he would also become part of his family too, sooner or later. You weren't just meeting Master Crepus. You were also meeting your future father-in-law.

"Father, this is (Y/n)," Diluc starts the welcoming exchanges. You felt his hand squeeze yours gently. He turns to you so that you caught glimpse of his face, seeing the reverance in his gaze that was hinted among his handsome features, "She's the woman I fell in love with and I would do anything to make her happy. I cherish her more than anything else."

"D-Diluc!" you flushed, your embarassment as red as his own hair. But he wasn't bothered by it in the slightest.

"I only speak the truth."

Master Crepus lets out a content chuckle, drawing both of your attentions back to him, "He can be surprising poetic sometimes but I'm sure that he got it from me. Even my wife reacted the same way," he reminisced shortly before sighing, "In truth I already knew that you were together. Staying in the after life gave me the chances to watch things from an omniscient standpoint, I was sincerely worried how Diluc would handle things when I suddenly left, I hope you don't mind. If you do, I apologize for making you uncomfortable."

"N-Not at all!"

"Haha, you're very kind. Thank you. I'm glad that my son was able to find a woman like you to be his fated partner. As a parent, it brings me great reassurance," Crepus remarked, "I know he can be stubborn and a little too headstrong when it comes to making decisions. It really must be a handful for you to deal with at times but I promise you that he means well. So please continue to watch over him in my stead, take care of my son while I'm gone."

"You can count on me," you beamed, "I'll give it my all."

"You have my gratitude (Y/n)," Crepus replies and turned to Diluc, "And listen to her every once in a while. I may have been the previous owner of our wine industry but even I always make sure to get me sufficient amount of rest. Son you know its bad to get two to three hours of sleep every day."

You blinked, "Two to three hours?"

Diluc clears his throat, "I understand Father. You don't have to say it."

Oh I think he does.

With a satisfied grin, Crepus took both of your hands together in his and gave you his blessings. The man once considered to be an artifact through the vast mansion was going to be part of the memories in your life. All of your expressions held as much happiness as the future can become now that he gave you the closure you both needed.

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thebestofoneshots · 3 years

Text

Time variant 30578

Summary: You end up on the TVA after becoming a nexus event. Just before you get reset Mobius appears to recruit you into the team to catch Loki’s variant.

You’re not too happy about it.

Word Count: 3.3 K

Paring: Loki x Reader

Rating: T

Disclaimer: There is a rather graphic attempt of su*cide the beginning so reader’s discretion is advised. There’s also a lot of curse words, but it’s mostly all fun banter.

[Y/N’s apartment, 2076, Chicago]

You breathed in deeply, the rope around your neck was tight, the chair was flimsy enough under your feet. All you had to do was kick it. And it would all end. There and then. Simple and basic. You breathed in deeply and after a few minutes, you kicked it. The rope tightened. You could feel your body trying to itch for air. It couldn’t, gravity wouldn’t allow it. Instinctively your hands went around the rope and you felt as if your eyes were blowing out of their sockets, maybe the pills would have been a better idea.

Then a window-like thing appeared in front of you. People entered your room and one of them cut the rope that was stopping you from drawing any air in. You instantly dropped to the ground. Barely able to move, your neck hurt and so did your arms from the fall. A man from behind got really close to you and put a collar on your neck. You started to reincorporate and tried to take it off, it was useless.

“What the fuck?” You asked as you saw the men and women in their strange uniforms, with the logo “TVA” plastered all over them.

“Variant has been captured,” one of them said through some sort of communication device.

“Variant? Miss, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave. This is private property. And if you didn’t notice. I was actually in the middle of something…”

A man from behind grabbed your arm tightly and started dragging you to the window-like thing. “What the hell?” You managed to say before being dragged into it.

[TVA OFFICES]

You looked around, the window portal thingy had taken you to what looked like an office. A friendly-looking man greeted the woman and the man that were holding you captive.

“Oh, so this is like some sort of weird right before death dream isn’t it?” You said out loud.

The woman raised her eyebrows. And dragged you to some elevator-like doors that closed after you were in them. There was a robot in front of you. With a creepy smile on his screen.

“So what? You’re going to give me a makeover?” You asked. In a few seconds, the robot burned off your clothes and left you but naked. Just as you were about to complain you fell down a trap door.

“Fuck,” you said as you stood up. “My butt hurts,” you said as you noticed you were now wearing clothes again. Now it was a jail-like uniform with the words TVA plastered on them.

“Please sign that this is everything you’ve ever said,” a bored-looking man said from behind a desk.

“No way you’ve recorded that,” you said. A page printed itself with those same words written on it.

“This one as well,”

You raised your eyebrows and signed the form. Then you fell again. This one was a different room, there was a metal-like detector in front of you.

“Please confirm that to your knowledge you’re not a fully robotic being were born as an organic creature and do in fact possess what many cultures would call a soul.”

“Are you asking me if I’m a robot?”

The man didn’t even turn to look at you and repeated the exact same thing he’d said before.

You frowned and brought your arm to your mouth, biting it rather sharply. “Yup, flesh, and bones.”

“Thank you for confirming, move through”

You looked around and stepped through. The picture printed an image-like thing. “What's that?”

“An aura picture,” he responded not minding you crouching closer to him.

“What? Like the hippies?” You asked.

“Please step on that yellow chart on the floor.”

You reluctantly did as told, “I’m not gonna fall again, will I?” You asked. It was too late, invisible gates underneath opened and you ended up on a different floor again. “God damnit I’ve been falling for 30 minutes,” you complained as you rubbed your butt a bit, it was sore already after landing on it so many times. Who would’ve thought the first time your butt would be sore would be because of a weird place like this rather than something fun. As you stood up a man wearing the TVA uniform asked you to take a number.

You looked around suspiciously “is this hell?” You whispered to the man next to you.

“Please continue on the line.”

“Oh this is totally hell,” you concluded “it’s going to be an endless series of waiting in lines and then it’s just gonna go all over again, ain’t it? Like in that one TV show about hunting ghosts.”

“You might be thinking: this is hell…” you heard from the TV. A clock figurine that introduced herself as Miss Minutes started explaining everything to you. What was the TVA, that you were a nexus event or something? And that your timeline would be reset to preserve the “sacred timeline”. Which sounded like a fever dream. You were sure you hadn’t taken any weird pills before your incident in the morning, but hey, maybe someone did put something on your coffee. “Sacred timeline,” you thought “I’ve watched way too much Doctor Who, who’d think of something so ridiculous?”

“Your number, ” said the guy in front of you. You handed in your little paper and you were transported into a courtroom.

…

“So, how do you plead?”

“Wait a minute… you’re telling me, you, are the timekeepers or whatever and I was not supposed to kill myself which is why I’m here. But now you’re going to reset the side timeline that I accidentally created and in doing so you also have to reset me…”

“That’s correct,” said the judge woman.

“But by resetting me, your basically going to delate my version of me from existence. So, why didn’t you just let me die?”

“Side timelines need to be stopped as soon as possible. How do you plead? Innocent or guilty?”

“If I say guilty then I die?”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that…”

“This version of me ceases to exist then.”

“Essentially yes.”

“Well then, I plead—“

“—Wait a minute…” a blonde guy said after storming in. “She might be useful.”

You turned around frowning “you’re interrupting my death sentence!”

“It’s not a death sentence…” the woman corrected, she then quickly turned to the man “what is it Mobius?”

“She’s a chaos expert. She studies catastrophes, we know them as apocalypses. She can be really useful on our current case.”

“Oh no, I’m super not useful, I plead guilty. GUL-TY.”

“Shut up, I’m trying to save you,” he whispered.

“I don’t want to be saved,” you whispered back.

He quickly ignored you and turned towards the judge woman again “as I was saying, she’ll be useful on this case. She’s an expert.”

“You’ve already interrupted Loki’s sentence, do you really think you can get away with interrupting hers?”

“Loki?” You asked, “New York Loki? ‘In the end, you will always kneel’ Loki? Man, he was a sensation back in the 10’s. Grandma used to tell me all about him and the battle of New York. I even took a side curse on all of his scheming on earth. Did you know he’s suspected to be B. D. Cooper?”

“As I was saying, she’s very knowledgeable on Loki AND in history…”

“Oh no, I know nothing, I’m basically useless…” you responded.

“Right, but when Loki destroyed New York in 2014—“

“—That was on 2012 tho,” you replied instinctively to later realized you’d contradicted what you said first.

“That proves my point. She’ll be perfect for this case.”

“No, she won’t.” You argued.

“She’ll work alongside Loki to catch his variant.”

“Alongside who did you say?”

The judge woman seemed to think about it for a minute. “Fine. But it’s the last time you burst into one of my trials Mobius, I’m not joking around.”

He nodded. “Please follow me, Miss (Y/N),” he said before waiting to walk out of the courtroom.

“Does this mean I won’t get rested?” You asked.

“Not for now,” the woman responded.

“Well fine then. All I wanted to do today was die but now I’m going to be a time traveler that solves time crimes to preserve the holly timeline. What a long Wednesday…”

“It’s sacred timeline,” Mobius corrected.

“What?” You shrugged.

“It’s sacred timeline, not holly timeline.”

“Right.”

The two of you walked in silence through a series of corridors that looked like an office from the late 20th century but weirdly space-y until you arrived at what looked like a file room. You looked around. And saw him sitting on one of the tables with a bunch of papers on top. He looks exactly the same as in the old videos you thought. Maybe a little less regal?

“(Y/N), this is Loki. Loki this is (Y/N). She’ll be helping us with the case.”

“We don’t need a…” he seemed to struggle with what to define you as “…mortal’s help.”

“See?! Can I go back to being eliminated now?” You asked.

Loki raised an eyebrow. So this girl wants to be reset. He thought.

“Reset,” Mobius corrected. “And no, she’s an expert Chaos Historian. She knows it all about apocalypses.”

“Right… if you really think she’ll be useful, I guess she can try to solve this.”

“He really is like in the videos,” you whispered to Mobius. “This is pretty exciting you know. As a historian I mean. It’s like meeting Hitler or something.”

“Are you comparing me to a racist dictator?” Loki asked clearly annoyed.

“Well, your whole ‘you were made to be ruled’ speech is kinda dictator-y,” you argued.

“That’s utter nonsense. Humankind is inferior as a whole, not some more than others.”

“Oh, so you’re racist just towards humankind. Aren’t we like a race as a whole? Like an alien race or something for you Asgardians?”

“But we’re gods,” Loki argued.

“Well, that certainly sounds something a supremacist would say. Especially one like Adolf,” you shrugged.

“I am NOT like him,” Loki said as he stood up.

“All right kiddos, it’s time to cool down and focus on the task at hand…”

“But she called me Hitler,” Loki complained.

“Well I’m sorry, but it’s kinda true,” you retorted.

“Do you want to get killed?” He threatened standing up to overpower you with his tallness.

“As a matter of fact. I kinda do,” you replied.

“All right. Nobody’s killing anybody at the moment. (Y/N), we need your knowledge. You’ll be doing a favour to humanity. Wouldn’t you like to do something great before being reset?”

You frowned “I guess going out on a blaze of glory is better than with a rope around my neck…”

Loki coed his head. You were certainly something different from what he expected mortals to be like.

“Great!” Mobius replied. “That’s exactly the kind of energy we want! Now (Y/N). We need to find an apocalyptic event, that happened from 2047 to 2051.

“Hey! I was born in 2051!” You responded excitedly. But curiosity got you right after “Wait. Why those dates?”

“That’s when kablooie was sold.” Answered Mobius, as if it made total sense.

“Aha…” you responded.

“It’s an unintentional clue that the variant left.”

“How do you know it was unintentional?”

“They left it there just to mess with the timeline, they didn’t know it’d be a way to find them.”

“Right!” You nodded. Would Loki really be so careless? You thought. “All right then,” you started reciting all the events you recalled from the top of your head “we’ll there’s the climate disaster of 2048, the Tsunami on 2051 (357 people dead), the eruption of the Krakatoa on the 49 (as bad Pompeii), there’s the flood of New York in the 46, the pandemic of the Coronavirus variant on 51. The Alabama storm in 2050, the meteorite in—“

“Wait what did you just say?” Loki stopped you.

“The meteorite in Argentina in 2047?”

“Before that.”

“The Alabama storm, where the whole was destroyed. 107 people dead.”

“That’s the one! It was a store, right?” Loki asked checking the files.

“Yes! Roxxcart.”

Loki nodded.

“Of course! Roxxcart must have carried kablooie!” You answered excitedly.

“The two of you will steal my job if I’m not careful,” said Mobius. “I’ll be back, rest and be ready,” he said before walking out of the library.

You looked around and then leaned towards Loki. “So tell me Loki, is it true that you were also being controlled by the mind gem?”

“I beg your pardon?” He asked seemingly annoyed.

“Well, there’s this, rather underground theory that says that you were being controlled by the mind stone, by Thanos. That when you got the scepter it was somewhat manipulating and it forced you or at least inclined you to do all that stuff in 2012. See most of the records say you have green eyes. And your eyes do tend to be more green-y in pictures and paintings prior to 2012. But in 2012 they were very blue, almost the color of the people that you enchanted with the scepter.” You leaned in even closer “Even right now, they’re more green than blue.”

He seemed to think about it for a second. He sure was above the abilities of the stones to alter people's feelings, right? He was a God after all. But then again, he was curious since he had not been inclined to conquer earth beforehand. Had he been manipulated? Him? The realization hit him, and it showed on his face, which he quickly changed for a more relaxed one “That’s utter nonsense.”

You looked at him closely and then laughed, reclining back to your chair “you’d think the God of Lies would be better at lying.”

“I will stab you.”

“With this thing around my neck,” you said moving the time necklace thingy around. The rope had chaffed your neck and the material of the necklace only made it more painful “you’d be doing me a favour.”

“I can ask Mobius to take it off. They took mine off when I became their assessor”.

You raised your eyebrows “oh, so he’s influential then.”

“I’m always influential darling.”

“How did you end up here?” You asked curiously.

“I stole the tesseract after the avengers messed with time travel, in 2012.”

“Oh… so you don’t know…” you said thinking of his future.

“I do.” He responded coldly.

“I’m sorry…” you added.

“Me too… what about you?”

“Oh… I tried to kill myself and the TVA didn’t like it.”

“That explains your careless attitude, and lack of fear towards me.”

“I wouldn’t fear you, even if I wasn’t suicidal, Loki. I mean yes, you destroyed half New York and created chaos all around. But to me, you come off as somebody I could reason with, I don’t fear reasonable people. You can always change their mind.”

“You think a mere mortal could change my mind?”

“I’ve done it twice already, Loki.”

“What?”

“You despised me at the beginning, you thought of me as inferior, that I would only be a nuisance. But, I’ve earned some of your respect, especially now that you realized I’m not full of bullshit whenever I talk. And the second time was when told you about the theory. You considered what I said, you’re doubtful now, even if you’ll never admit it.”

He stared deep into your eyes as if trying to gather information from them. This talked remind him of the time Mobius accused him of enjoying hurting people. He didn’t like it. Humans were not supposed to be this wise. Especially young ones.

“Do I have something in my face?” You joked, trying to make him uncomfortable.

He leaned back and smirked “I’ll never tell you.”

You frowned and tried really hard not to bring your hands to your face. You knew he was trying to trick you. And yet, what if you had some weird blood-sucking space mosquito on your forehead?

By then Mobius had come in again, “Pack you bag kiddos, we’re going to the ’50s.”

“Time travel! How fun!” You nodded and walked alongside Mobius. Then you whispered, “hey Mobius! Do I have something in my face?”.

Loki repressed a laugh from the back. He still had the touch.

[Roxxcart Store, Alabama, 2050]

“The variants stay with me,” said Hunter B-15. You grabbed your neck, the ghost of the time collar still annoying you. Even if Mobius had actually been kind enough to take it off.

After being separated from the rest, Hunter B-15 was possessed by the variant.

“Didn’t know you had mind control,” you whispered to Loki.

He just gave you a look without responding. “I’m, just gonna let you to talk things out…” you said giving a few steps back and maintaining a reasonable distance in case things got violent. Which had been wise since just a few minutes after the two Lokis, evil variant with a different body now, started throwing things at each other. You stood mostly behind your Loki. While you knew he really wouldn’t make an effort to stop you from being killed (which was now an issue to you for some reason), it felt safer than the possessed variant Loki.

At some point, a flying computer was crossfired and it was directed straight towards your face. You started contemplating how miserable your death would seem when another thing, whatever it was, stopped it from hitting your face by hitting it on the side and causing it to change course. You turned towards Loki, your eyes locked with each other. “Did you just?”

He shrugged and continue his fight. “If you had any honour, you’d fight me yourself.” He said as the big guy choked him.

“I’ve got shit to do,” responded the man posses by the other Loki and threw Loki Loki towards a bunch of toys.

The big guy looked at you threateningly and smiled when he realised you wouldn’t be a threat. This Loki doesn’t seem so reasonable, you thought. He went back to his task and you ran towards Loki.

“You all right?” You asked as he stared at the ceiling.

He was tempted to respond ‘why do you care?’ But instead nodded. “Go get ‘em,” you said and extended your hand to help him up. Which he reluctantly took.

He walked towards the big guy and he turned with a smile “brace yourself…” he said before collapsing down. A hidden figure appeared. They took off the hood and revealed themselves to be a female.

It makes sense, you thought. He’s a shapeshifter.

“This isn’t about you, Loki,” she said before grabbing a small square and opening one of those time portals. She walked and disappeared in it.

Mobius was already getting to where you were. “Loki! (Y/N)! Wait!”

You looked at Mobius. And then at the portal. “I don’t want to be reset anymore,” You whispered.

Loki frowned.

“I want to live,” you nodded and after looking at Mobius one last time, you followed the female Loki through the portal.

“Loki wait!” Mobius screamed as he ran towards him. Loki looked towards them, hearing him scream over and over the same words.

I want to live as well, he thought before following you through the portal that closed right after him.

“Damn it,” said Mobius as he contemplated the empty space that been left behind.

Read Part 2 here

I may turn this one into a weekly series, that follows the events of the Loki tv show. If you’d be interested in something like this leave a like or a comment. If you want to be tagged, leave a comment saying you want to be tagged.

And if you have any opinions, you can also leave a comment.

Find more Loki shots here

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criticalraw · 4 years

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I've seen a few posts about Fjord becoming the ward/head of an orphange post-campaign and they're always so wonderful. They also make me think about the many visitors the children would get to meet, like:

The Expositor of the Cobalt Soul, dressed in blue and gray, who treats Mr. Fjord like a brother, bumping shoulders and always making each other laugh. She shows the kids her monk prowess, aweing them all with her kicks and flips. Though, they love her stories most of all...

The small Halfling woman, covered in buttons and flowers, and smelling faintly of chemicals. She and Mr. Fjord trade insults back and forth the entire time she's there, though they both smile the all the while. Her stories are always accompanyied by interjections from Mr. Fjord, making the children laugh...

The human man who the children are told is a professor at the newly reformed Soltryce Academy in Rexxentrum. His visits are always warm, always putting an equally warm smile on Mr. Fjord's face. He is a favorite visitor of the children who aspire to learn magic themselves, though all of them love to witness whatever magic he shows them. His stories are always long and captivating, his quiet voice charming all who listened, despite his introverted nature...

A blue tiefling who always bounds through the doors of the orphanage with a seemingly endless flood of cheer. Her energy is always infectious and both the children and Mr. Fjord are all bright smiles when she's around. She always is slipping kids candy and drawing pictures for them while telling her stories, always with fond chiding from Mr. Fjord if it starts getting a bit mature...

A large woman with pale, pale skin and pretty eyes of two tones who is always so quiet. And though she is quiet, it is a comfortable quiet. Her sense of humor is a riot with the kids, because it is so strange, and you can always find a child or two hanging off of her. Her stories are also captivating and always teach the kids important lessons, even when they don't mean to

An even larger Firbolg with pink hair and a calming aura. He and Mr. Fjord are connected, of sorts, through their shared devotion to Melora, the Wildmother. The kids are always bombarding him with questions; coming up with strange questions to get even stranger, in their eyes, answers was a fun game they loved to play with him. Plus, he was a fantastic cook and always made the best treats and some tasty tea when he was there. Story time with him was always accompanyied by food and held outside amongst the nature...

Mr. Fjord and his friends also frequently talk of another friend of theirs, another tiefling, who lived in bright colors and wanted to leave the world better...

Other old friends of Mr. Fjord's would visit on occassion as well: a drow man with intelligent eyes, a sweet woman who seemed to be half dragon, an old tortle covered in tattoos who loved to play his pipes for them, a glowing woman with a halo who teaches them to do good, and many more.

And though Mr. Fjord seemed to have many friends, the six that visited most were more than that, he'd tell them. They were his family. He stressed to them that family isn't just the people who shared your blood; that you didn't have to share a last name to be family.

Of course, the children already knew this, for many of them considered each other and Mr. Fjord their family too

#critical role #critrole #cr2 #cr fjord #fjord stone

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fanmoose12 · 3 years

Text

a little something for @bruciesnat :) i know i've promised it like a lifetime ago, sorry for the delay! oh, and i decided to combine it with a prompt i also received a long while ago <3

Mike doesn't know why he's doing this. Doesn't understand how he agreed to it, can't comprehend why Erwin would make him do it. Mike doesn't know what he had done to deserve this- this punishment.

He's- he's a good man. An honest one. He serves to ensure the future of humanity, he risks his life to give others a better one.

He's good at it too, he's excellent at fighting and slashing and scouting. He was the best one at it, before- before the annoying midget came.

The same annoying midget, who is insanely strong and easily irritated. The same annoying midget, who has a crush on their adorable Hange. Hange, who Mike has to seduce to test Erwin's theory that Levi, insanely strong, easily irritated Levi, truly has a crush on their Hange.

Mike swallows heavily as he sits next to Hange, just a little too close as Erwin instructed. He smells that it won't end well.

He cringes, as he puts his arm around her shoulders.

Mike likes Hange, a lot actually. Sometimes he feels like they're siblings that were torn apart by some bigger entity. So yeah, he likes Hange. But definitely not like that.

But, oh well, anything for the cause, right?

"Hey, Hans," he murmurs, adopting his most seducting tone. He hopes that his smile is charming enough to captivate their dear scientist. "Are you free tonight? I have two tickets to the theater perfomance," he leans in closer, lowering his voice to what could probably (Mike is an eternal optimist!) be called an enticing whisper. "They're showing the creation of the the Walls tonight."

Somewhere on his periphery, Mike can see a swift dark shadow that oozes the smell of detergent. That shadow, it grows closer, its aura becoming more menacing.

Mike can only hope that if Levi attempts to kill him, Erwin would intervene.

Although... knowing Erwin, he'd just write Mike's death off as a necessary sacrifice.

He takes his hand off Hange. The shadow retreats a few steps back.

"Sorry, Mike," Hange shrugs with a small, apologizing smile. "I showed that play to Levi a few weeks ago. I had my fill of religious propaganda for now. But if you're looking for someone to accompany you," she winks and turns around. Mike's heart sinks. "Levi really liked going to the theatre! He'll be happy to tag along, right, Levi?"

Mike meets Levi's eyes, and sees nothing but desire for murder inside.

Mike quickly scrambles to his feet. "You know, I'll just ask Gelgar to go with me. I'm sure he doesn't have anything better to do."

And they can get wasted afterwards. Mike really needs that after this conversation.

Just as he retreats, Levi takes his place, sitting down next to Hange, also just a little too close.

The mission had failed spectacularly, but, Mike consoles himself, at least he learned that Hange and Levi went to theatre together. And sometimes intel is more important than the victory, right?

Ah, if only Erwin would share his opinion on that.

***

Erwin's second attempt is even worse than the first one, but, at least, this time it doesn't directly involve Mike. Still, he's an unwilling spectator to it, and, just as the last time, he doesn't like where all of this is going.

He already feels bad for the poor guy Erwin hired to hit on Hange during the annual military ball. Where did Erwin get the money - did he take them from the Corps' funds or his own allowance, Mike doesn't know, and, frankly, he isn't sure which option is more disturbing.

At least, the actor is handsome, Mike doesn't know if Hange would like him, he doesn't know if she has a type, and if she does, he hopes it's not annoying midgets, but the guy is handsome, there is no denying that.

Hange has cleaned up fairly well too, the white suit looks excellent on her, bringing out all of her best assets, demonstrating her wide hips and lean, long legs. The hair, gathered in a neat bun, shows her long, gorgeous neck, and the light make-up make her even more gorgeous than usual.

When she and Erwin walked through the front door - him in his blue suit and Hange in her white, symbolising their Wings of Freedom, everyone had their breath taken away.

Even Mike was a little shocked to see Hange dressed up like this, and Levi, who stood right next to him, was completely blown away, staring at Hange with wide-eyed, lovestruck look.

Thanks to Levi's ridiculous expression, Mike now understands why Erwin goes to such length to bring their resident weirdos together. It is delightful to watch Levi behave like that, and Mike longs to see more of this side of him.

Soon after Hange and Erwin make their grand entrance, their guy makes the first move.

He approaches Hange, his eyes bright and smile so charming it makes Mike envious that Hange is at the receiving end of it. He kisses her hand, whispers something in her ear.

"He praises her recent experiment. I thought it was a good place to start," Erwin explains quietly to him.

"Ah," Mike nods. So Erwin thought every detail through? Not surprising at all. "Think this would have an effect on Levi?"

"It already does," Erwin says, pointing to a furious cloud of black hair and suit that is approaching them at a rapid speed.

"Has four-eyes lost all shame?" Levi practically growls, his eyes throwing flames. "Is she seriously flirting with a fucker from the MP?"

"He's not a soldier," Mike answers, reciting a legend Erwin created. "He's actually a wealthy merchant from the South. Heard he sells apples to the King himself."

"And since when Hange is interested in someone like him," Levi crosses hands on his chest, his glare turning even darker, as Erwin's actor takes Hange by the hand and leads her to the dance floor.

"You know, you can ask Hange to a dance," Erwin advices with a pleased smile. "Then she won't be able to flirt with others."

Levi scoffs. "I would rather fight a horde of titans than dance with stinky four-eyes."

Maria, Rose and Sina, Mike thinks. They're worse than children.

"Hange has taken a bath before coming here," he tells Levi.

Levi rolls his eyes. "And now she looks even more awful than usual."

Mike shares a look with Erwin. Does Levi prefer usual Hange, when she doesn't bath for days and her eyes water from the lack of sleep? It almost sounds cute.

"This is the last time I'm attending this shitty ball," Levi swears to Erwin. "Even wine here is shitty."

He marches away immediately after that, heading to the table with wine. Mike can barely stop his laughter, as he watches Levi take a glass of wine, drink a few large gulps of it, and then wince, his mouth moving as he probably murmurs violent curses. He doesn't take his eyes off Hange and her dance partner, and relaxes only when the song ends.

Both Mike and Erwin watch intently as the actor kisses Hange's hand once again. Hange blushes, and Mike almost coos. Levi grabs another glass of wine.

When the actor starts leading Hange away, in the direction of the balcony, Levi starts moving too. He intercepts them just at the edge of the ballroom.

Mike knows he should have expected something like that, knows that Levi doesn't exactly possess the best of manners, but pouring wine over someone? Over his own colleague and friend? Mike certainly didn't expect that.

He's delighted to see what happens next, though.

What happens is that Hange's gorgeous white suit is ruined and Levi wraps his hand around her wrist and drags her to the bathroom. He sports a unusually pleased expression and Hange is laughing herself silly.

Not a bad ending to this endeavor, Mike thinks.

"Another disaster," Erwin sighs.

***

Third time is a charm, or so Mike hopes.

This time Erwin decides to take matter in his hands, and that another sign that this plan will succeed.

The plan is simple, yet, hopefully, effective. Erwin is to whisk Hange away to some remote location, create a scene that would look like a moment between lovers, and Mike is to call Levi there and make sure he witnesses it all.

Erwin is a brave man, Mike thinks, as his Commander explains the plan to him. He would never dare to do something like that to humanity's strongest. To awaken his jealous streak... Mike is glad he's not in Erwin's place.

One sunny afternoon, the plan is set in motion. Erwin takes Hange, and Mike goes to find Levi.

He finds him fairly quickly, in the middle of cleaning Hange's room. Man, he could at least try to make his crush be less discreet. But that's beside the point now, because Levi is cleaning Hange's room and not watching Erwin and Hange. Mike confidently strides up to him.

"Levi! I've just been looking for you."

"What do you need?" he asks boringly. "And have you seen four-eyes? I can't find her all day."

Erwin prepared some legend, a reason why Mike needs Levi, but in the heat of the moment, Mike can't remember a single word. So he just yells "Come with me!" and hope that Levi follows.

Thankfully, he does.

Mike leads him to the stables, where Erwin is already at it. His palm is on the wall, next to Hange's head, and from Mike's point of view, it certainly looks like they're in the middle of... something naughty.

Next to him, Levi tenses, and Mike can practically hear his teeth grinding.

Mike prepares for something very ugly, but then...

"I- I didn't know that Erwin and four-eyes-" oh, fuck, it sounds like Levi is genuinely sad, like he's heartbroken or something. Mike feels a strange desire to hug the little guy and pat his head. But then he remembers that he and Erwin are the reason for Levi's distress right now, and... remorse starts kicking in.

"Levi, listen, it's not-"

"Levi!"

As always, Hange is the one to save the day.

She breaks free from Erwin and sprints to Levi, a wide smile on her face. "You won't believe what Erwin had just told me! He gave me permission to go in the town's library and bring back all the books I want! I'm in dire need of your muscles, humanity's strongest, you'll go with me, right?"

Levi still seems grouchy, but under Hange's sunny grin, his angry facade crumbles. "I don't know if Commander will allow it..."

He doesn't even try to hide his bitterness and irration. Mike disguises his chuckle as a coughing fit.

"Erwin!" Hange turns to him, eyes pleading. "Can Levi go with me?"

"Sure," Erwin nods. "Take all the time you need."

Hange yells in triumph, loud enough to make Mike wince. She grabs Levi by the hand and drags him away. Erwin watches them with a wistful smile.

"I don't think we should get involved in their relationships," Mike says, as he approaches Erwin. He stands close to his Commander, their shoulders pressing against each other. "We should let them figure it out themselves."

"Agreed," Erwin says. "I'm sure they'll manage well enough even without us."

Mike watches Hange wrap her arm around Levi, and is inclined to agree. They will certainly manage without them both.

Or, at least, Hange is able to manage.

And that should be enough.

#levihan

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sunrisefairy · 3 years

Text

Swipe right

Pairing: George Weasley x reader

Warning: language, mentions of cheating/breakup, alcohol

Summary: The one where Y/N downloads tinder after a bad breakup

Taglist: @hufflepuff5972 @inglourious-imagines @klausdatprettyboi @georgeweasleyswhre @horrorxweasley @amourtentiaa send me an ask if you would like to added!

————————————————————————

Y/N hated being single. She hated not having anyone waiting for her with dinner cooked and a glass of wine when she got home from work. She hated how empty her bed felt and not having anyone to cuddle after a tough week. She hated no one being there to listen to her ranting about her day. Y/N absolutely missed being in a relationship and being able to go through life with someone else by her side.

Y/N’s last relationship was 8 months ago, she had been with her ex Matthew for 6 months when it came crashing down. Y/N remembers the night she met Matthew vividly. Her friends had dragged her to some concert at this random underground bar. Y/N was at the bar ordering drinks when a breathtakingly handsome man with blond shaggy hair and piercing blue eyes offered to pay for the 3 beers she was ordering. Normally, Y/N would roll her eyes and not bother talking to random drunk men, especially when it was a girl’s night out like tonight. But something about Matthew caught her attention and she couldn’t walk away even if she wanted to. Matthew had this aura about him, he was very charismatic and could captivate anyone with his looks alone leaving those around him putty in his hands. Which is exactly what happened to Y/N.

Matthew and Y/N started dating shortly after that and she was completely smitten with the man. He seems to be just what Y/N needed. To Y/N he was the perfect boyfriend, he held all the traits she looked for in a partner, kind, funny, smart, supportive, everything except the trait which would be argued to be the most important – loyal. 6 months into their seemingly flawless relationship Y/N found Matthew-her supposedly perfect boyfriend, in bed with another girl.

The second Y/N saw the two of them in a rather compromising position in Matthew’s bed, Y/N felt her world collapse around her, her throat closed over making it hard to breath and her vision blurred. The events that followed are hazy in Y/N’s mind, she remembers screaming and yelling, she knows there had been a lot of tears (mostly from her), Matthew trying to beg for forgiveness, which is very hard to do when you’re butt naked and there potentially was a few items thrown in Matthews direction, deservingly so.

That night broke Y/N, it felt like Matthew had reached into her chest and yanked out her heart and crushed it to dust then spat on it. Apparently, douchebag Matthew and this girl had been shagging for basically the whole of his and Y/N’s relationship. She couldn’t believe it.

Y/N’s friends had spent most of the weeks that followed in the heartbroken girl’s apartment as she cried, screamed, yelled. It pained them to see their best friend so distraught. But surely, over time and with lots of ice cream and alcohol, Y/N was able to heal.

8 months later Y/N finally felt mostly whole again, she was able to smile and laugh without a hollow ache pounding in her chest and tears threatening to spill from her eyes. She no longer dreamt of Matthew’s arm wrapping around her and pulling her into his chest when she dozed off, she forgot how it felt to kiss him and she stopped wanting to call him.

Y/N finally felt free, which she told Alicia and Angelina at their weekly girl’s night in. This led to Alicia trying to convince her to maybe start dating again, to test the waters as she put it.

“Okay, hear me out,” Alicia says waving her arms, somehow managing not to slip her wine on the couch, “I think Y/N should download tinder.”

Y/N scoffs and opens her mouth to disagree, but her words went unheard as Angelina squealed in excitement, “oh my god yes! Y/N you so should.”

Y/N shakes her head before sipping on her wine, enjoying the sweet taste on her lips. “Guys, I don’t think I’m ready to start dating, I definitely don’t think I’m ready for another relationship.”

“But that’s why tinder is so great, you don’t have to go on any dates if you don’t want to. You can just chat to some cute boys and see what happens.” Alicia replies, picking up Y/N’s phone from the coffee table and holds it out for her to unlock.

Y/N thinks for a moment, eyeing her phone, she doesn’t feel ready to jump into the dating scene still nervous about being let down again but there’s no harm in downloading tinder and seeing her options, right?

Y/N eyes are locked on her phone Alicia’s hand before muttering fine and unlocking it for her. Angelina giggled excitedly, moving closer to Alicia’s side to look at the phone. A few moments later the app was downloaded, and a profile was made. The 3 girls took turns swiping through profiles ogling the eye candy.

The phone was currently in Angelina’s hand while Alicia refilled everyone’s glasses, Y/N had lost count of how many glasses of wine she’s had tonight, her body buzzing from the alcohol. “Man, I forgot how much fun tinder is.” Angelina slurred, her thumb rapidly swiping through profiles.

“Okay Ang, we won’t tell Fred that you said that.” Y/N chuckles, Angelina just rolls her eyes.

“Oh, come off it.”

~ ~ ~

The next morning the 3 very hungover girls who had passed out in different spots of Y/N’s living room, somehow manage to drag themselves to brunch with Lee, Fred and George.

“Hello ladies, big night?” Fred winks then plants a sloppy kiss on Angelina’s cheek who mumbles a response that sound vaguely like a yes.

The 6 of them were sitting at a table outside, soaking up the sunshine and warm weather. Once their food is delivered the group is chatting aimlessly with one another. Y/N hears her phone ping from her bag, and she fishes it out to check the notification.

“Ohh, Y/N is it a tinder message?” Alicia says excitedly trying to peer over her shoulder.

“Tinder?” It’s George’s voice now. Y/N glances up at him from across the table, unable to read his expression, “since when does Y/N have tinder?”

“Since last night, the girls convinced me to download it. Kinda seems like time to start getting out there again.” Y/N replies shoving her phone back into her bag before one of her friends has the chance to snatch it from her even though the text was just from her mother.

“Maybe you should download tinder Georgie. ‘Bout time you got yourself a girlfriend.” Lee mumbles, his mouth full of food.

George shakes his head, looking down at his plate, “tinder isn’t for me. Besides your one to talk Lee, you’re single too.”

“Not anymore, I want to marry this eggs benedict.” Lee practically moans as he shovels another bite into his mouth.

Y/N laughs along with everyone, shaking her head slightly.

“I think you should George, I’d bet money that your dream girl is on there.” Fred smirks at George whose eyes widen at the comment and his cheeks heat up.

“Can we change the subject,” the redhead mutters scratching his neck, not meeting anyone’s gazes.

The conversation quickly moves on and Y/N finds herself still staring at George confused by his strange behaviour, also noticing the way her chest feels heavy at the mention of George’s ‘dream girl’. She pushes the feeling down and tears her eyes away from the redhead in front of her just before he glances up at her. The pair oblivious to the others intense gaze.

~ ~ ~

That night Y/N is snuggled up under her favourite fluffy blanket, on the couch, while some random romantic comedy is playing in the background.

Y/N has soon come to realise that tinder is addictive, she’s spent the better part of the last hour swiping through the many profiles. It doesn’t feel like she even has control of her fingers at this point, they apparently have a mind of their own.

Y/N starts to zone out, her finger automatically swiping for her. That is, until she stumbles across a particular profile and her finger freezes and her eyes bulge out of her head. Is that? George?

Y/N looks through his profile, there’s a picture that she had taken of him at the beach one summer, he’s lying on a towel, shirtless and the cheekiest grin plastered across his face. The next photo is of him and Ron from Harry’s surprise birthday Ginny threw last year. They are both looking smart in their suits, beaming brightly at the camera. Y/N can’t help but stare at George’s hand that’s wrapped tightly around a beer bottle, her mouth going dry as she zooms in on his veiny hand. There is also a photo of George from last Halloween where he had dressed as a pirate, Y/N chuckles, remembering how George had followed her around for most of the night, annoying her with his lame and corny pirate jokes. The last photo is her favourite out of them all. It’s of her and George at her recent birthday, he has his arm wrapped around her shoulder and his head resting against hers. The pair of them smiling widely at the camera.

Y/N bites her lip trying to decide if she should swipe left or right. She’s always had a soft spot for George long before she started dating Matthew. She knew deep down she harboured a tiny crush on her friend but never acted on it, scared she’ll ruin their friendship if she confessed her feelings. Y/N always fantasised about what it would be like to date George Weasley. She would happily bet her life savings that George would be the perfect boyfriend, would treat his girlfriend with respect and shower them with love and affection. It’s the type of relationship Y/N yearned for, the type of relationship she thought she had with Matthew.

Y/N stared down at the phone in her hand, contemplating her next move. The temptation to swipe right was huge, finally being able to find out if George liked her but there was the possibility that if she does swipe right she’ll find out that George does not like her in that way and she doesn’t know if she could physically take that knowledge right now. Part of her debates on swiping left, thinking that way she can live her life blissfully unaware to whether or not George likes her. The idea of being unsure of his feelings seems very appealing then definitely knowing he sees her just as a friend. A small voice in her head tells her to just delete the app and pretend this never happened.

Y/N groans at her overthinking.

Just choose Y/N.

“Fuck it,” Y/N mutters squeezing her eyes shut before swiping right.

She keeps her eyes closed for a few minutes, trying not to picture the upsetting scenario where they do not match, and Y/N has to deal with her unrequited feelings towards the boy. She takes a deep breath and slowly opens her eyes trying to focus back on the phone in her shaky hand. It takes a moment to process the words on the screen before Y/N is jumping up from the couch squealing.

It’s a match!

Her happy dance is interrupted when her phone dings, indicating a new message. Y/N swears her heart stops beating and she scrambles onto the couch to grab her phone.

George: Do my eyes deceive me or have I captured the attention of the lovely Y/N?

Y/N snorts at his message, butterflies erupting inside her stomach unable to get over the fact that George Weasley likes her.

Y/N: Consider yourself lucky Georgie, not many are worthy enough of my attention ;)

Y/N: But wait, I thought you didn’t have tinder? You said tinder wasn’t for you

George: I didn’t… well up until 1 hour ago. Fred convinced me to download it so I could try and find your profile. He said I should at least try and confess my feelings…

Y/N: And? What are your feelings?

George: that I am hopelessly in love with you. Have been since forever but I’ve been too chicken to admit it.

George: I was going to tell you I swear, but then you started dating that tosser Matthew and I lost my chance.

George: After you two broke up, Fred bugged me to say something to you but I knew it wasn’t the right time.

Y/N studies the messages. Long before Matthew was even a thought in her mind, she knew she would leap at the opportunity to date George. But that was before she had her heart shattered into a million of tiny pieces. She told Alicia and Angelina that she wasn’t ready to date, she didn’t think her heart could take it. And if this was any other guy, she would gently let them down. But this wasn’t just any guy, this was George Weasley. The man who never failed to make her smile and laugh till tears was streaming down her face. The man who help pick up the shards of her heart and help mend it back together. The man who would always answer her phone call, no matter the time of night. Y/N knew she’d be stupid to let go of George Weasley.

~ ~ ~

George was a wreck; he was pacing around his living room basically pulling out his hair with how much he’s run his fingers through it. It had been 30 minutes since he messaged Y/N and admitted his feelings, telling her he loves her. And she hasn’t replied!

George knew he shouldn’t have said anything, clearly Y/N was just curious about his profile, just wanting to see if they’d match and she definitely does not love him back let alone like him.

He wanted to throttle Fred for convincing him to make this stupid tinder account and embarrassing him like this, now George has gone and fucked up his friendship with Y/N.

George stops pacing when he hears knocking from his front door. His eyebrows knit in confusion about who would be visiting him at this hour. George chooses to ignore it, deciding he doesn’t want to see anyone right now, all he wants to do is open some vodka and drown his sorrows. He makes it into the kitchen when the knocking starts back up again, this time louder and faster.

“Okay I’m coming!” George shouts annoyed, “Jesus, I swear this better be import-” his words disappear as soon as he opens the door and is faced with Y/N.

“What are you doing here?” Georges words come out short and brunt, but Y/N doesn’t seem to notice.

She is fiddling with her fingers and anxiously chewing on her bottom lip. “I figured this wasn’t really a conversation I wanted to have over tinder.”

Y/N is silent, the words getting stuck halfway up her throat, she doesn’t really trust her voice to be steady enough to talk. So, she decides on another route of communicating her feelings to George.

Slowly she cups Georges faces in her small hands, forcing his eyes to meet hers. George seems frozen still as Y/N softly pulls his face to down towards hers, their lips millimetres from one another. She can feel his shaky breath on her face. It feels like forever before Y/N connects their lips together, George seems to snap out of his trance as his hands wrap tightly around Y/N’s waist, holding her body close. Their lips mould together perfectly and fireworks erupt in Y/N’s belly. She feels alive and her heart is thumping in her chest and all she can think of is George. George is clouding her thoughts and, in this moment, she doesn’t want anything else to ever occupy her brain. Her heart feels warm and whole as if George had kept the final piece of her heart in his possession to keep save until she was ready and willing to give him the whole thing. Y/N doesn’t feel scared anymore of the thought of loving someone again because she knows for certain now that she’s always loved George.

They pull away from the kiss, breathlessly, George rests his forehead against Y/N’s needing to feel close to her still.

A tear slips from Y/N’s eye which George softly kisses away.

“I love you too George. Always”

#George Weasley #George Weasley x reader #George Weasley x you #George Weasley fluff #George Wealsey one shot #George Weasley oneshot #George Weasley fanfic #George Weasley fanfiction #Fred and George #Fred and George Weasley #george weasley imagine

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wreckofawriter · 4 years

Text

Minnie's Daughter

Pairing: James Potter x McGonagall's Daughter!Reader

Word Count: 3,984

Warnings: Swearing? None? Fluffy

Summary: When James finds out his favorite proffesser has a daughter he can't seem to keep her from his head

A/n: I fuckin loved writing this, I wrote it all today and I'm now finishing it at 12:46 at night. This is #12 from the fanfic vote and got the second highest number of votes, hope y'all enjoy! Look at me posting twice in one week

“Potter!”

James flinched slightly before turning around a large grin plastered onto his visage, “Minnie! So good to see you!” He cheered

The older woman rolled her eyes on instinct, “I told you not to call me that James. I am your professor you shall treat me accordingly.” she spoke sharply.

“Jeez, Minnie you seem more angry than usual.” The boy shuddered in his usual fashion; dramatically.

She sighed rubbing her temple with one hand, “Just come with me, Potter.”

“Yes, ma’am!” He saluted smile not faltering despite the nerves which now slowly consumed him.

The two slowly made their way towards McGonagle’s office, something James knew a bit too familiarly. As they walked everything he had ever done flashed through his memory, the thousands of school rules he had abandoned, the laws he had broken, pranks he had pulled. What was he in for this time? It seemed there were far too many possibilities.

The second that the door shut behind him he opened his mouth.

“Minnie if this is about the Grindylows in the prefects’ bath, I had nothing to do with it, I swear on my life. That prank was simply untasteful and you know I would never do something so dull.” He defended putting on his most innocent mask.

“Potter you aren’t in trouble, I simply- wait, what Grindylows are you talking about?” She asked brows furrowed.

The boy’s eyes widened, “Oh, um, i-it’s nothing you need to worry about.” He spoke his voice gaining false confidence.

Another exasperated sigh left the professor’s lips but she didn’t address what she was sure to become a problem, “I simply wanted to talk to you about your plans for the quidditch team now that you are the captain.”

“Ooohhh,” The boy nodded in understanding, a wave of relief washing over him. Excitement built in his stomach as quidditch was mentioned and he bounced happily on his heels a shimmer appearing in his dark eyes. “I can show you my workouts and plays and stuff if you want.” He offered eagerly, “I have some written in my bag.”

“That sounds perfect James.” She grinned, “Bring them to my desk.”

He nodded walking forward while rummaging for the notebook he had spent the summer scribbling in. He found it and placed it on his professor’s desk before opening it’s worn cover and flipping through the pages.

Both individuals quickly became immersed in the plans as the captain explained his workouts, strategies and more. In fact, they became so engrossed they didn’t notice a third figure enter the room.

You rolled your eyes as you heard your mother jabber about the sport she loved so much. You sighed walking up towards the pair being purposefully quieter than needed. You suppressed a giggle as you neared the duo. You stood just to the right of the boy who was crouched over his notes, you then leaned your head so your chin was resting just above his shoulder, you could smell the cologne he wore but ignored its sweetness. Your lips centimeters from his ear you spoke, “Whatcha guys talkin’ about?”

The dark-haired boy let out a shrill shriek as your mother gasped in surprise.

You burst into a wave of laughter doubling over as the quidditch star glared at you, clearly offended.

“You scream like a four-year-old girl Potter.” You cackled blinking back tears.

James opened his mouth to shoot back an insult but something stopped him. You looked oddly familiar, your eyes gleamed in a recognizable fashion, your smile all too common to his view. Despite this, he had no clue who you were.

“Merlin y/n!” the professor gasped, “That was uncalled for.”

“Sorry, mum.” You giggled, “I couldn’t help it.”

In that exact moment, James’ bain imploded. His jaw dropped, eyes growing to the size of saucers as if he had just been slapped.

“Minnie! You have a daughter!” he gasped, completely appalled by this new information.

“James! You have a brain!” You mimicked him, false surprise emerging on your face.

“Y/n, be polite.” Your mother scolded although it was hard to miss the smirk on her lips.

James wasn’t even bothered by the jeer, he was far too preoccupied with attempting to figure out what the hell was happening.

“It’s nice to formally meet you, James.” You grinned sticking out your hand for him to take, “I’m y/n y/l/n. Minnie’s daughter”

He shook his head quickly his hair bouncing slightly before he took your hand, which he found surprisingly soft and slightly cold, “James Potter.” He mumbled before turning to the woman who had returned to the notebook.

“Minnie!” He shouted.

You giggled at the nickname biting your lip lightly.

McGonagall’s eyes snapped upward dangerously but at this point, James was too shocked to care.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you had a daughter!?” He asked in complete dismay, “I thought we were friends!”

The witch simply rolled her eyes, “If you had paid any attention to those around you, you would have noticed I had a daughter years ago.” She spoke, seemingly unfazed.

“Minniiieeee. That’s not fair.” He pouted.

McGonagall shrugged.

“Oooo, are those quidditch notes?” You asked peering over James’ shoulder like an excited puppy. “Mind if I take a look?”

“Yeah sur-”

“No way.” your mother interrupted eyebrows raised as she peered over her glasses at you.

Now it was your turn to pout, “But mum.” You attempted to reason.

James choked in a breath as you widen your eyes and jutted out your bottom lip. Did you always look this adorable?

“Nu-uh.” She shook her head.

“Why not?” You whined placing your hands on the desk and leaning over it attempting to catch a glimpse of the ink-stained pages.

“Because last time I made the mistake of letting you ‘look through’ my quidditch notes, you charmed it and gave a copy to the Ravenclaw Captain.” She huffed, closing the notebook from your prying eyes.

James gasped again, “That was you!”

You nodded, smirking proudly.

“We lost the quidditch cup because of that!” He heaved.

You just shrugged, “Yeah well, we won because of it.”

He glared back at you, tucking the notebook protectively under his arm.

“Shit!” You swore glancing at the clock behind your mother’s desk.

“Language y/n!”

“Sorry, mum,” You yelled over your shoulder scrambling from the room, the door thudding against its frame as it closed behind you.

James opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by you dashing back into the room.

“I forgot what I came here for.” You groaned, “Where is my herbology textbook?”

McGonagall opened a drawer in her desk handing it to you.

“Thanks, mum.” You rushed as you snatched it from her and sprinted back towards the door.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me you had a daughter.” James sulked, his eyes glued to where you had resided moments before.

McGonagal was met with a hell storm when James spread the news of his new discovery. That hell storm’s name was Sirius Black. He had crashed into her classroom while she was in the middle of a class and began his tearful act. He whined and gasped and pouted, stating his betrayal and his loss of trust.

The professor tiredly massaged her closed eyelids as his antics continued.

Thankfully the other marauders were surprised but lacked the same gusto Black held, although James seemed to have a sudden problem on his hands. For some reason he couldn’t seem to pull you from his head, it was like you were cemented there, your giggle rinning in his ears as your voice echoed through his head. You were strangely captivating.

He wondered if that’s how his professor had been in her youth, although he refused to picture McGonagall as beautiful. You were simply alluring, your entire aura drawing him towards you. He wasn’t quite sure what it was but he found himself needing to be near you. He foolishly allowed himself to wonder if you thought the same of him.

Your heart pounded lightly as you snuck to the owlery, you fought a wide smile as you climbed the seemingly endless steps, taking them two at a time out of excitement. When you finally reached the top you let out a slight squeal noticing your large barn owl perched near the door.

You whistled once and let it land lightly on your outstretched arm. You then carefully untied the thread from his leg taking the note in your hand and dropping your arm as your owl departed. You unthreaded the scroll and began slowly down the stairs as you read it. By the second line of words, your throat went dry. You could feel your heart beginning to throb painfully as the back of your eyes began to sting.

You sped through the remainder of the letter a sob ripping from your throat as the words sunk into your skin. Your vision blurred and you grasped at the stone wall to your right. The wind tore overhead, suddenly the pleasant breeze felt threatening. You crashed downwards, the stone step you sat on causing shivers to conquer your body. You let tears drip down your cheeks and slide off your chin as you raked your hands through your hair. Another cry unlodged itself from your throat and echoed around you. You pulled one of your hands from your hair slamming it over your mouth as you squeeze your eyes shut in mental agony. You bit your lip harshly bringing your shaking hands to your cheeks and wiping them dry. You gasped in a sharp breath blinking furiously to keep the tears at bay. Finally, you shoved the letter into your robe pocket and stood continuing down the stairs as if nothing had happened.

You saw this coming, you thought, you knew it would, why are you so surprised?

You shake your head blinking rapidly again. You slipped into the castle feeling emptier than usual, your heart still aching, your head starting to. You ran your tongue over your lips, feeling just how dry they were. Water rose to your eyes again and you swore, leaning your head back and squeezing them shut.

“Y/n?”

You snapped your head forward, eyes opening wide.

“Are you okay?” James asked walking towards you, concern etched into his sharp features.

“Uh, hey James.” You spoke attempting to sound normal and failing miserably as your voice came out in a croak. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

He didn’t believe you, he narrowed his eyes, “Are you sure?”

You coughed attempting to clear your suddenly clogged throat, “Yeah seriously, I’m fine.”

“You don’t look like it.” He responded eyebrows still furrowed.

“Thanks.” You muttered sarcastically attempting a small smile.

James felt his ears grow hot, hoping you didn’t notice in the dull light of his wand, “I-I didn’t mean it like that.” he spoke quickly, “I mean you look pretty today, umm I mean you always look pretty and uhh you just look a little worn out...But like not in a bad way! Just you uhh-”

Your giggle cut his rambles short, you bite your lip looking down at your feet, “You’re fine James, I was only joking.” You mumbled.

“Oh.” He replied sheepishly his cheeks flaming.

The hallway fell into an awkward silence, tension feeling thick, like the air on a humid day.

James coughed uncomfortably, “Do you want me to walk you to your common room?” he asked ruffling his hair, something you had the sudden urge to do.

“Yeah, that would be nice.” You smiled sticking your hands in your pockets. You felt the letter you stowed away in your hand and you swallowed another sob.

The two of you walked in silence, the only noise being your shoes on the floors of the castle.

Your mind reeled, the words replaying, still raw in your head.

You’re always gone at that boarding school. I never even see you anymore… I don’t know y/n/n we just lost something.

You could feel tears begin to well again, your world falling blurry.

I just don’t love you anymore. I’m sorry.

You couldn’t hold it back anymore. You let out a strangled whimper halting where you stood and burying your head in your hands as your body shook.

James turned toward you in alarm, his heart throbbed as you cried into your hands attempting to muffle the sound. He stood there for a second before taking a step towards you and wrapping his arms around you shaking form.

You leaned into his touch, your head thumping as you wailed into the boy’s chest, your hands still pressed to your face.

“Hey, you’re okay.” James cooed as he gently ran his hand down your back, “You’re gonna be okay.”

He continued whispering sweet nothings in your ears, until you calmed a considerable amount, your sobs turning into shaky breaths and small sniffles.

Your face felt hot, embarrassment took you over as your head began to clear. You pushed yourself from James’ hold.

“I’m sorry,” You chocked out, “I must look pathetic right now and I barely know you and I’m a fucking mess, I’m so sorry James.” you gushed attempting to wipe your face clean.

James looked confused, “Y/n you have nothing to apologize for.” he spoke so softly you almost swooned.

You stood quietly shifting back and forth on your feet, unsure what you were supposed to do now.

“What happened?” James asked, “If someone hurt you y/n I will beat-”

You laughed lightly, “No one hurt me, James, I just um.” You took a large breath release it slowly, “I just got dumped.”

James's eyes widened, “Oh.”

“Yeah,” You huffed picking at your lips, “I mean it wasn't like I didn't see it coming, we had barely seen each other at all for the past year and honestly I don't think I have loved him since then, but we were together for so long, it just hurts. And I guess I’m just scared to be alone again.” You laughed bitterly at your own self-pitying rant.

“Did he just break up with you tonight?” James asked he seemed to hold a mixture of anger and concern in his dark eyes.

“Well umm, he’s a muggle.” You spoke awkwardly, “I just received the letter.”

“Oh.” James mentally slapped himself for repeating that word so many times.

You chuckled stiffly, “It really shouldn’t be that big of a deal, I mean I saw it coming, I just didn’t think it would happen this soon.”

“Obviously it’s a big deal y/n, you can be sad after a breakup.” He smiled down at you a certain shine in his eyes telling you there was more. “Do you still have the letter by any chance?”

You tilted your head in confusion, “I do.” You answered hesitantly, “Why?”

“Wanna burn it?”

You never wanted to do anything more.

The two of you sat shoulder to shoulder in the astronomy tower watching as the letter your ex-boyfriend had sent burned. You felt a sense of relief as it turned to ash, its words and meaning disintegrating before your eyes. You sighed suddenly feeling exhausted as if someone had flipped a switch and drained you of all your energy. Your eyelids became heavy, breaths became longer and soon you felt yourself drifting into a dreamless sleep.

James felt a light pressure on his shoulder and turned to see your head resting on it. Your y/h/c hair gleamed in the light of the small fire you had created. He smiled softly carefully brushing the loose strands of y/h/c from your face. He then leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead, his heart thumping as his cheeks flushed red.

He softly shook his head, what was he doing?

You and James grew surprisingly close, surprisingly quickly. It was frightening how well you got along. Whispers coated the halls of some secret relationship that blossomed between you. You always laughed it off as James grew pink and denied it entirely.

The head boy had come to terms with his feelings for you the moment you fell asleep on his shoulder and he had been forced to carry you back to your common room solve an impossible riddle and get you in bed.

He wasn't as smooth as he thought he was when it came to you. When he had liked other girls it was easy, he would just make a few flirtatious remarks ad then ask them out, but with you, it was complicated.

First, there was the fact that you just got out of a two and a half year relationship. Then the fact that your mother was McGonagall. And of course, the fact that every time he tried to confess to you his words would get lodged in his throat and refuse to move.

Day after day he told himself he would tell you, he would share the feelings that lodged themselves into his brain and heart. But as cliche, as it sounded days, turned into weeks and weeks turned into months and soon he was sitting across from you in the library thinking about how badly he wanted to push your hair from your face and decorate your neck with hickeys.

But he kept his mouth closed cursing himself for every moment he let tick by which he didn't hold you in his arms.

When he hit month four Sirius said he was hopeless and Remus agreed. James had become completely intoxicated by you. The dreams he had of you becoming lewd, looking you in the eyes became difficult as he could only think of how your lips would taste.

Month five rolled around and James had decided he was hopeless, he had tried desperately to convey the message he kept bottled to you, but for being so smart you were extremely oblivious. Then the unthinkable happened.

“James, can you stay after class please,” McGonagal asked, her voice sharp, but her eyes soft.

James nodded numbly his mind wandering back to you, wondering if you had eaten enough for breakfast, you had slept in and only gotten there for the last five minutes. Maybe he would grab you a snack from the kitchens on his way to his next class and drop it off for you. Slughorn wouldn't mind if he was a bit late to potions.

The class was dismissed and he stood from his seat absentmindedly standing to leave.

“James!” McGonagall called and he snapped back to attention.

He walked up to her desk and stared at the women, deja vu making him blink rapidly.

“I'm not going to beat around the bush Potter, I know you like my daughter,” McGonagall spoke peering at the now blushing boy over her glasses.

James sputtered desperately for an answer, looking for a sentence to deny such a claim but he was cut off.

“James, I’m not here to hear your denial, I am here to beg you to ask her out.”

And his brain exploded again.

“She talks about you constantly, she cannot get out a sentence without your name being in it, it is simply ridiculous. Even worse you are getting spacey not only in the classroom but on the field. We almost lost our last game because you couldn't keep your head in the game. So please for both of your sakes, just ask her out.” McGonagall stared at the boy, looking desperate.

After a moment of silence, James spoke: “You aren’t mad that I like her?” He chose his words carefully, not sure if he was on thin ice or not.

“No James.” The professor sighed, “If any of the boys in this school were to date her I would hope it to be you, I know you, you’re a good kid.” She admitted painfully.

“You actually want me to ask her out?” James asked hesitantly, unsure if it was a type of test or if he was going crazy.

“Yes, James.” She huffed, “Please just do it so I don't have to hear about how adorable you look in hoodies ever again.”

James flushed again, “Y/n said I look cute in hoodies?”

“Oh, Merlin.” She muttered under her breath, “Just do it James.”

And with that, he ushered him out the door.

You hummed quietly, music blasting far too loudly through your walkman, you lay on your back a book held above your head as you thumbed through it.

You didn't take notice of your roommate busting into the room, a giggle on her lips as she smiled brightly.

She called out your name twice, groaning and rolling her eyes before walking over to you and plucking the headphones from your ears.

You sent her a glare.

“Don’t glare at me,” She huffed, “I'm just here to tell you that James Potter is waiting outside the common room for you.”

“He is?” You asked. You were pretty sure you didn't have plans with him today.

“No, I’m making it up.” She scowled rolling her eyes.

“Okay, okay, I'm going.” You exhaled loudly pushing yourself from the bed.

You wandered down the spiral stairs waving to a couple of people who seemed to be staring. You noticed a few girls whispering something to each other before catching your gaze, almost looking… jealous?

You frowned before exiting the common room.

“Hey James, what’s up…” Your voice died in your throat at the sight in front of you. There stood a blushing mess of a boy, a bouquet of bright yellow roses and daisies grasped in his hands. He was adorned in his school pants and dress shirt, a yellow hoodie thrown over it, his dark curly hair springing from underneath its hood making him look positively adorable.

He refused to meet your eye, his cheeks so red you swear they must have been on fire.

You felt your own cheeks heat as you stared up at him, his glasses perched lazily at the end of his nose as he stared at his feet.

He finally raised his gaze meeting your own and instantly regretted it. Your head was tilted slightly in confusion, your cheeks dusted pink, your eyes wide, shining with a doe-like innocence. You were simply stunning.

He pushed his glasses up his nose nervously and he spoke. He spoke the words he had wanted to say for five months.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Your heart stopped, jaw-dropping eyes growing wider, you were left completely speechless as your mind reeled with the words he just spoke.

James’ throat went dry and he nervously fiddled with his glasses again, “I totally get it if you don't feel the same way, I just I can't stop thinking about you, and honestly I just couldn't keep it bottled up anymore.”

You just stood there. So stunned your mouth forgot how to move.

“Say something,” James spoke his voice practically a whimper.

You still didn't speak, you weren't sure you trusted your words at that moment, so instead, you took two steps forward and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling his lips onto yours.

The kiss was messy at first, your noses collided at the speed you pulled James towards you, his arms soon reached around you, bouquet still secured in one hand as he straightened you and plunged his tongue into your mouth. He tasted like honey and cinnamon. His scent surrounded you, the soft odor of expensive cologne and the tinge of sweat.

You pulled away slowly lips still touching a moment after the kiss broke, breath mingling as you looked up into his deep eyes, you could feel yourself begin to fall into them, your heart pounding at an inhuman rate.

“I love you too James.” You whispered and the smile he wore was brighter than anything you could ever imagine.

Taglist:

@accio-rogers

@roslea

@k3nz-doodl3

@theseuscmander

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mythicamagic · 3 years

Note

wow! that's an amazing list. “i’ve been falling in love with you since the first day we met”

A continuation of other tumblr prompts I’ve made into a fic - here

Hopefully chapter four will be the end lolol this fic has been far longer than I intended it to be.

---

Kagome stared out at passing scenery beyond her window with a glazed look dulling her eyes. Heavy thoughts carried her attention far away from the mundane train ride. She hadn't visited Kyoto in years, and especially not for such a special reason before.

Shippo's voice had sounded so strange on the phone. Mature, but not overly deep, maintaining its playfulness. He'd invited her over for a visit right away.

A 'bing!' noise roused her enough to check her phone- which showed a picture of Natsuki posing with a spear and fresh kill.

Kagome snorted, resting her chin on her knuckles. There were a few things about Natsuki that she was surprised Sesshoumaru hadn't commented on.

Number one; her boyfriend was a demon.

And number two; he was, specifically, an inuyoukai. A mongrel. She imagined Sesshoumaru felt mighty smug to know she'd found a demon of the same species as him to date. Natsuki being of mixed breeding surely made the Daiyouki feel all the more superior.

But Kagome had never cared about such things. She'd loved Inuyasha once, too.

The short version of their 'getting together' just two months prior was that she'd located a demon bar a few years ago and had been dating youkai ever since, using the place as a means to meet them. The relief of finding the secret den of long-forgotten youkai had been unparalleled. Kagome now knew exactly how to locate and see through glamorous thanks to years of experience.

She'd found out through the process of elimination that humans just kind of...weren't enough for her. Kagome needed the youki, the rush- the bite of claws, talons or fangs.

Natsuki was one of many in a long line of potential 'forever' partners, but Kagome had long since stopped expecting marriage down the line. If they lasted, that was fine. If not, that was fine too.

She had resolved never to fall hard for someone again.

Natsuki left Tokyo a few days prior to go on a hunting trip with his pack in a remote location up in the mountains, a monthly tradition.

'Can you skip it this time?' Kagome had asked. 'I'd just...really like it if you could come to Kyoto with me?'

'But I don't know your fox friend.'

'Doesn't matter- he hasn't seen me in 500 years. I would feel so much better if you were there.'

Natsuki looked as though she'd spat in his breakfast. 'Ah, uh-' he ran an awkward hand through his light-brown hair. 'I guess?'

The hesitancy and look in his eyes- begging to be let off the hook- made Kagome force a smile and drop the subject.

She sighed, figuring they'd probably break up soon. There wasn't really anything wrong with their relationship, just a difference in values and priorities.

It seemed to be the norm. No huge fight. No big dramatic breakup. Usually she even stayed friends with her exes.

Sesshoumaru was the outlier in all things.

She made certain not to tell the Daiyoukai of her impending singleness. If he was irritatingly optimistic now- Kagome imagined he'd be a nightmare to shake off if she were available.

But he'd stop if I outright told him to never speak to me again.

Her lips thinned, stomach turning at the mere thought.

For the rest of the journey, she resolved not to think about him. And failed miserably.

----

Shippo had greeted her at the door with an enormous hug the second she'd arrived at his hilltop home. Brilliant red hair had grown longer, swept back into a ponytail. Since his house perched a little further out from most of the houses, he wore no glamour. The pointed ears and foxtails- five of them- Kagome counted, were on full display.

Tears pricked her eyes, and she hugged him back fiercely.

His wife was pleasant, though a little eccentric for a racoon youkai. She'd made a 'welcome' banner and everything for Kagome's arrival.

Three young kits with dark circle markings around their eyes raced around the house- which had crayon drawings sprawled all over the walls at waist-height. Shippo and his wife seemed to have given up on house maintenance, but they were a happy family.

Blue eyes softened as Kagome sat with him in the relative privacy of his art studio. She was so pleased he'd found happiness. As they talked, she bent down- reaching into her bag for her phone to show him some pictures of her workplace- only for it to tip over.

A small bottle of pills rolled out, stopping by his foot.

Kagome paled. She glanced away from his questioning look as he handed them back to her. "Reiki suppression pills?" he asked.

"How'd you know?"

"I've got friends in Tokyo. You're not the only priestess who secretly dates demons," he shrugged, pinning her with a calculating look. "But, it's kind of a shame you feel the need to take them."

Kagome forced a smile, tucking them away, "yeah well- it's because I'm so big and strong," she joked. "I haven't met a demon in Tokyo who could withstand my aura if I really let it out. Taking these is easier. Gives demons the 'flavour' of dating a miko without actually getting burned. It just thins my powers a little."

Shippo nodded in acceptance and swiftly changed topics since it made her uncomfortable. He chattered on about his life, detailing the 500 year gap between when they'd seen each other last. Apparently, after Miroku and Sango had passed, he'd taken to spending more time with Sesshoumaru. When Inuyasha had died, he'd started living with the Daiyoukai permanently.

"You...did?"

He nodded, hands wrapped around his steaming mug of tea. A handmade bracelet clasped around his wrist, and the mug was half-melted, made from clay. Clearly they'd both been crafted by three well-meaning kids. "I guess we were gonna talk about him eventually," he smirked. "I promise not to be biased, okay? Sure, he saved my ass, but you're still my favourite."

Warmth flooded her heart, and Kagome giggled a little despite herself. "You're talking like we're your divorced parents or something," she mused, sobering. Taking a long breath, she stared at her own misshapen mug. "What happened?" she asked quietly. "Why didn't he create a pure-blooded heir?"

Shippo sighed, sweeping a hand through voluminous red hair. "He chased after you pretty much a second after you left through the well. Only he couldn't get through."

Her chest tightened, body stiffening.

"He's told me before though...that regretting what happened wouldn't have been enough, and maybe it was better he didn't stop you. He still felt the same at the time, deep down; that only a pure-blooded heir should take over the Western Lands to ensure he was survived by a long-living heir. He was gonna do it," Shippo muttered. "He was prepared to lay with an inuyoukai to produce an heir, but when the time came he just...couldn't. It frustrated him for a long time."

Kagome took a sip of her lukewarm tea, lips thinning. "He could've taken a mate. It didn't have to be some random woman."

"Heh, yeah but his inuyoukai instincts had already chosen a mate," Shippo winked at her. "And no matter how much he tried to force logic onto himself, his instincts refused to budge. You weren't dead, so in his mind, he couldn't move on. He's remained your captive all this time."

Her eyes widened, swallowing. "That sounds terrible!" she burst, frowning. "What the hell...I'd resent that. Why doesn't he hate me?"

"Hard to explain but...he could have moved on, Kagome," the kit sighed. "If he really wanted to. He's the one who lacked the desire to change how he felt about you. So, despite some relationships, Sesshoumaru has pretty much maintained his bachelor lifestyle."

Kagome stood from her seat, setting down her tea and distractedly looking at Shippo's art pieces, picking up a sketchbook and flipping through it.

Sharp green eyes searched her guarded features. "You're still in love with him, right?"

"Some habits are hard to kick," she said softly, pausing on one sketch. Her vision grew blurry.

Shippo rose and swept the shuddering miko into a hug before she could drop the sketch of Sango and Miroku. He held her for a long time, and they moved on to talking about their friends. About all the things they'd done and the happiness they'd shared.

"M-maybe I...left too quickly," Kagome mumbled, wiping at her wet cheeks.

"Nah, don't get that thought stuck in your head," Shippo rested a hand on her head, gently ruffling the dark strands. "You wanted distance between you and Sesshoumaru. It's not your fault the well shut."

"Why did..." swallowing thickly, she looked up at him, oddly feeling like a child in comparison to his steady, easy-going presence. Like nothing in the world could shock or frighten the little kit anymore. "It took him 6 years to come talk to me, why is that?"

Shippo's smile turned slightly sad. "He wouldn't want me to tell you. In fact, he'd kill me for giving you this-" Shippo reached into his pocket and took out a vial.

Kagome understood what it was almost immediately, accepting the glamour with a perplexed look.

He then scribbled down the name of a random park in Tokyo she hadn't visited before, handing it over with a smirk. "Put that glamour on and visit this park on either Tuesday or Thursday, weather permitting. You'll find him near the duck pond."

She arched a brow, eyeing the vial. "He'll recognise me, even with a glamour on."

"Nah, that's my own creation- and I'm pretty darn brilliant at magic now!" he puffed out his chest, tilting his chin up in a very Sesshoumaru-like manner. Shippo then smiled warmly, taking the sketchbook and tearing out a page. "He's not being honest with you, but it's not outta nefarious purposes. You'll see," he reassured her. "He's changed. Even if he's still an asshole."

Kagome accepted the page, freezing. Her fingers stiffened, emotion clogging her throat at all the implications that came with the picture. She couldn't help but cry again in the safety of Shippo's arms- promptly bursting into tears while on the train ride home too.

Shippo's sketch remained clutched in her hands.

The weight of so much wasted time rested upon her heavily, making the woman bend low in her seat, ignoring the stares of other passengers and letting out several years of loneliness and disappointment. How her skin had ached and burned up with a fever of remembrance- straining for a demon lord to take her wrists and kiss her palms like he once had.

---

Overcast skies blocked out the sunshine that Tuesday, so she wondered if he'd show. The glamour had made her look like a 40-year old, a few grey streaks in her magically short hair. Brown eyes stared back at her instead of blue. She smelled like lavender and home cooking. Kagome sat upon a bench and pretended to read beside the duck pond. An available bench sat further away, nearer to the empty play park.

It was there that a dark-haired man eventually sat, five children having followed him. A lanky teen took a seat next to him, his hair short and grey- eyes milky white with blindness. Kagome squinted from behind her book, sensing he was a snake youkai. Two young hanyous of differing species immediately ran to the play park, squealing. One had concealed horns, the other hiding their leopard spots behind a glamour.

A human girl around the age of 11 carried a toddler to the edge of the duck pond, talking quietly with him and pointing to the ducks.

Kagome held back the hot sting of tears, forcing her gaze to the book in her hands and robotically turning a page.

"Shinto needs to get out of his room," the snake youkai was muttering sourly.

"There is little I can do. Did you wish for me to carry him kicking and screaming to the park with us?" Sesshoumaru snorted, elbows bent to rest on his knees.

Kagome glanced at him furtively from the corner of her eye.

Gone was the easy confidence he'd presented to her during their encounters- the impeccable dress-sense and untouchable air of a bachelor. He looked like a mess. Or rather, a single parent struggling to juggle too much at once. He wore a jacket that had seen better days, hair dishevelled and slight lines under his eyes.

"Maybe that would've been better," his adopted child was muttering, soon sighing and glancing to the side as Sesshoumaru toyed with his phone. "Do you even have her number?"

Sesshoumaru arched a brow, feigning ignorance. "Hm?"

"You know who I am referring to. Just ask for it from Uncle Shippo."

Dark lashes lowered, followed by a rich, silky chuckle that made Kagome's skin warm. "Such underhanded methods, Hiroji," he teased, "no wonder you're not popular with women."

Hazy eyes gazed in his general direction flatly, huffing. "Please refrain from trying to dodge the question. Have you actually asked this 'Kagome' woman out yet?"

"I invited her to coffee."

"Such a cheap date, Papa!" the human girl by the duck pond smiled, carrying her brother back to them. "Couldn't you have invited her ice-skating, or to a fancy restaurant?"

"Or to the park!" one of the Hanyous yelled from the swings.

Sesshoumaru cut his eyes to grey skies fondly, accepting the toddler from his daughter. "The location does not matter. Miss Higurashi is not easily swayed," he uttered, large hands toying with little boots. The toddler giggled, kicking his legs. "Initially, I wished to bury her with gifts, but she would merely see that as an attempt to 'buy' her. No, I sense only a display of humility and regret will soften her opinion of me, however that seems quite impossible."

"Hm? Why's that?" his daughter asked.

"Because I do not wish to use you all as an example of my having 'changed.' It would feel as though you are mere tools for my redemption," brown eyes slid away. "My mindset altered gradually over the centuries. No large thing triggered it. I know of no other way to prove myself other than introducing her to you."

Kagome could tell by the twitching of his fingers and the way he kept brushing them over his jaw absentmindedly that he was itching for a drag of his pipe. She'd wondered if he still occasionally smoked. He must've decided not to around his children.

"Sounds like heavy stuff," the girl hummed, patting his shoulder in consolation. "Can't you just say-" she cleared her throat, voice deepening into a poor imitation of Sesshoumaru's- "Miko, I've been falling in love with you since the first day we met. Fall into my arms~"

Deep brown eyes flattened, and he playfully shoved a hand into her face. "Things are not so easily fixed, Akiko."

"I see. Well, don't worry! If it doesn't work out, we can all go ice-skating instead!"

Sesshoumaru tsked, sinking back into his seat and allowing the toddler to snuggle up on his chest. "How dull. I'd much prefer to go on a date with a beautiful woman than babysit you brats."

Akiko only giggled and whined good-naturedly, calling him a 'meanie' before running off to join the Hanyous on the swings.

Left in silence, the Daiyoukai's brows knitted together, thoughts clearly far away.

Mild concern softened Hiroji's boyish features. "You should try talking to her again," he said quietly, so faintly Kagome could barely hear it.

"Hn, and why is that?"

Shifting, the snake demon glanced sightlessly in Kagome's direction- causing her blood to freeze in her veins. "I suspect she may be more receptive to speaking with you now, that is all. Call it a hunch."

Stiff shoulders slowly relaxed upon realising he wasn't going to expose her. After a few minutes, Kagome rose from her spot and slipped away from the park.

In the comfort of her own apartment, Kagome gazed at the sketch Shippo had given her; Sesshoumaru sleeping without a glamour obscuring his exotic features. Resting on mokomoko, his knees, and the crook of his arm were children, different from the ones at the park, but just as mixed in species.

It implied he'd been adopting them for centuries. What had started with Rin all those years ago- the accidental adoption of his first child, had become a long-enduring habit. And it also gave Kagome the stupid, insidious idea that maybe he wanted hanyou children now. Maybe he wanted them with her.

And that was too dangerous a thought to linger on if she was incorrect.

#Sesskag #Sesshoumaru x Kagome #Asks

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cyberdva · 3 years

Text

take me home- b.c.

Summary: Staying with Stray Kids over the holidays via the first-hand invitation from Chan sounded like the perfect vision. When New Years’ roles around tension grew, in the coming days you’d have to leave and someone needed to confess the secret scratching at his core for years on end. With a little plan from your best friend’s bandmates, this new year would be one to remember forever.

Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of Anxiety, and a Makeout Scene

Word Count: 2.3k

Stray Kids Masterlist

Main Masterlist

A/N: (Gender Neutral Reader!!) hey everyone! it’s sort of a tradition for me to write a short little fic for new years. this time i chose to write about chan since he’s turned my life around and brought so much positive change into my life. i’m forever grateful to him and stray kids. thank you for reading all of my sappy drama. life is going to get better!

Being away from the same place you’d called home for the past who knows long felt strange. Don’t get me wrong, it was a major relief to be able to roam around a different area after the entire world was basically held captive in their own minds for the better. Having a second family in the form of an idol group, led by the most talented person you could think of, gave an excuse to seek refuge in their dorms, but this time they nearly begged for your presence for just a few days. Listening to Felix and Seungmin plead over the phone, ironic desperation laced in their tone, for a month and a half took a white flag waving on your behalf. Putting eight celebrities, and countless others, in the possibility of danger was the glue holding you back. Nights of pondering aimlessly always led to the same conclusion. Staying and going was a bitter conflict. Flabbergasted by all the trouble you got yourself into, the thought of leaving was a knee-jerk reaction. Either Felix and Seungmin got their way or the other way around, and if an agreement couldn’t be reached a full-on melancholy would forge in its place.

“Y/N…” Chan’s voice faded in and out with vigor, a perfect speech was freshly prepped in his mind wanting nothing but to have you here with him next week, “I have a question. You have to listen to the whole thing until you answer, okay?” His teeth grazed a chunk of flesh dragging in backwards in anticipation.

“I’ll come visit.” There was a cold breeze, lacing the darkness with foreign excitement, a feeling you had last had back in freshman year when Chris came home to visit you Training was the main priority for him, his young mind opened up the new group his company yearned to produce. Either lead a normal childhood or give the future its star-studded path. It hurt to see him go, more than anything had before, but when your bedroom door slowly creaked open it was worth the wait. Chan still remembers how you hugged him, tightly with so much emotion, it made him come to terms with the feeling brewing in his own mind. Truly cliché, but the way butterflies bubbled in his stomach and hands shook like leaves on a palm tree stuck in a brawny gust gave him desires which laid discrete too prolonged. Your response ignited that same lust, Chan’s voice hitched in between the words collapsing from his delicate lips. It brought a stunted tint to your cheeks, a rare occurrence in general.

The man’s eyes fluttered in amazement, “Y-You’re serious, not joking right?” Fingertips grazed the dew buttons nearing the edge of his phone, mimicking his posture at the moment.

“Do I not sound serious?” A puff of humor fell from your mouth, “Just make sure I don’t regret it, I’ll text you tomorrow Chrissy.” Left in his own bewilderment, it only had now begun to register the weight of the situation. His only lover, one-sided in his wit, of a near lifetime, was coming just for him, and his annoying ‘children.’

“I fucking hate that nickname.”

“Are you even old enough to have alcohol?” Buzzing with anticipation, the young woman dashed past an elated Minho forcefully dancing with Hyunjin, who looked about to pass out from drained practice from earlier on. Your hands clutched onto a champagne bottle, it still has a hint of frost to the touch. Jeongin flashed her a pout and gave swift retaliation, “It’s not for me! Hannie told me to open it for all of us!” His long fingers snatched it right back into his possession.

Changbin laid motionless on the couch, "It’s five minutes until midnight! Seungmin could you go grab Chan, I have no clue where he is.” A nod came from the other man, his footsteps faded in a quick manner. The aura swelled cheer through every inch of your body, it has been so long since you’d last experienced such an amazing weekend with the ardent people. Something did feel off, and everyone noticed. Chan just wasn’t as sociable, his time was mostly spent scrambling on his phone or just in utter silence.

An abnormal amount of time passed and Seungmin was nowhere to be found. Your legs cracked a bit as you stood up, your mission was to now find that man-child if it was the last thing you did. Nerves jittered across your arms and wrists, it lingered in the small crevasses between tight joints. You were in love with Christopher Bang and this moment was the same as any other with him, but that sentence never fully processed in your mind. Instead doubts about confessions replayed constantly, it was an anxiety pressed down to the base of your concerns, yet it still bobbed for attention every now and again.

“You alright?” Placing your body against the hard doorframe of Chan’s room wasn’t the brightest idea. A hard chunk of metal pressed directly into your thigh making this conversation more awkward to begin with. Chris was at a small wooden desk, still working his creativity to death, even during a celebration. His large, slick headphones fortunately didn’t block out the sound of your tender voice. It came as a surprise to him, normally Chan wasn’t this jumpy. Even a small amount of embarrassment tainted the normally confident persona of himself. He quickly spun around and tilted his head in recognition, silently motioning you to speak.

Moving from the uncomfortable stance you continued, "You’ve been acting really weird lately. You know you can talk to me about anything. I’ll always be here for you no matter what.” Scanning his face for any reaction probably made things a bit worse, his posture caved in on itself and you couldn’t help feeling bad for possibly brining up something he clearly didn’t want to talk about. For the one moment he looked up at you it brought pang of guilt over your chest.

A sigh escaped you unconsciously, “Sorry if I made you upset or anything, I’ll let you work some more, but at least get some rest later.” Chan shook his hands in retaliation as you spoke, slowly getting up from his seat as he did.

“I don’t know how to say this,” his eyes darted every which way except for you, “I should’ve told you a lot earlier and I regret not doing that and shit, but just listen to me.” You slowly bobbed your head up in down in a confused likeness. He radiated uneasiness in an odd, eager way. The silence between each sentence ate away at your mind.

He reached out for your wrist, slowly moving it up waiting for consent, “Y/N, we’ve known each other for a really long time and ever since second grade I’ve…” he stopped. Now your agitation grew, what was he even talking about? His breathing staggered, “I’ve had like the biggest crush on you.” Did I just hear that right? A wave of panic took control over the two of you.Still yet to response, and react fot that matter, to what Chan said it made him start to plung into some sort of hysteria.

Finally words pieced themselves together, “You’re in love with me?” He nodded, “Why didn’t you say anything.” When Chris would say he was shy you never thought it was to that extent. Imagining how hard that must’ve been to conceal wasn’t that difficult, your feeling for the man definitely were the exact same. Back in high school all your friends would be graced to hear your stories about how Chan is so hot, how much you miss him, how you’re going to marry him, and more and more. It was tough to never see him in person, it stung when you would call him in the rare date he was allowed to.

“I like you too, ever since first grade for me.” His spirit turned into the complete opposite of before, now with a crimson shade of disbelief painted across his lug, “Your ears are red.” You laughed, his hands reached to tuck his hair back over the spectacle.

“What do we do now?” The question floated in the air with the intensity of the conversation peeling away. Neither adult fully understood what was happening. The importance of their relationship crumbled away with small banter and painful jokes.

A bright idea formulated in your mind, “We could kiss.” Chris blankly took in what you said and graced a devious smile, “I like that idea.” Chan grabbed your waist and snatched you closer to his body, which was strangely warm. Not like you were complaining. Brushing a few obscure hairs away from your face he peered extensively at your stunning features, taking them all in. It wasn't long until Chan smashed his lips into your own and you eagerly returned the kiss.

For the next few minutes the two were engulfed in a kiss, making the whole room sway and trip over its own feet. Your grip on him became tighter and you locked your fingers together at his back, making sure you wouldn't lose him. After a few more minutes Chan began to push his lips to your neck, making sure to explore every inch of your skin with his tongue. You giggled and clutched him closer. Your lips caressed his chin and his neck, kissing every inch of them and playing with his eyelashes. Chan opened his mouth to kiss your neck but you put a finger on his lips, but he kept going. You heard footsteps coming closer even with the small noises coming from the older one.

“I found him…” Seungmin walked right through the open door and adjusted to the scene in front of him, “Ew!” his face contorted into a disgusted look, “I found Y/N too.” Now that your expected make out session was confirmed, the rest of the boys peaked down the hallway with oddly happy faces. Chan was beet-red and began muttering quick apologies under his breath. Adorning a beaming smile you took his hand and guided Chan back to the rest of the group, “You talk too much, but that’s why I love you.”

“Love me? Well, um I love you too.. I have for a really long time.” Your heart swelled from his cumbersome behavior, he really never changed much from his youth. With that said your cheeks flushed and a broad smile spread across your face, as your entire body flushed from head to toe. The boy had a way of making your cheeks do a very special kind of glow. With only a minute and a half on the clock it was awfully laid back. Normally people go all out on New Years, but everyone just wanted this one to end as quickly as possible. Spaced away from his large crew you noticed that there was a rather large difference in Chan’s mind and the way he acted. In front of his members there was a much more dominant manner to his actions. He really cared about them, luck was the only way to describe how you felt about knowing him so personally.

Felix was the most thrilled of the bunch, "Twenty seconds left!” He bounced up and down with his grin growing wider than before. Whenever Felix was around the atmosphere automatically lit up. He just has that special feeling to him. While you flashed backed into your mind thinking about random anomalies Chan was gazing at you with piercing eyes and when you threw a glance back at him, he stayed still. Out of the blue, grabbing your hands and holding it tight.

“Ten!” This didn’t feel wrong, nor right, never in a million years did you think your childhood best friend would keep the same feelings for you tucked away. Trying to fill that void with one night stands, relationships that never ended well, and even distancing yourself from Chris wasn’t ever the answer you thought it was.

“Nine!” He was hidden in plain sight, could you be labeled the fool in all of this? Really Chris could too, it took so long to face the truth.”

“Eight!” Putting his career on the line is the next discussion, if fans or media found out about the two of you his contract could be terminated. The hate he faces already is too much, you would never want to hurt him.

“Seven!” The harmonic combination of everyone’s chants was relaxing, calming the storm of thousands of ‘What if..’ questions piling from your brain.

“Can I kiss you?” Chris was now right by your ear, burning straight into your sight. You jerked your body back in reflex, not expecting him to be so close.

“Six!”

“What do you mean?” It was obvious, your mind felt as if it was short circuiting. This was not the first idea that popped into your head when you decided to come visit.

“Five!”

“Yes or no, hurry up.” From the tone of his voice you could tell he was dead serious. Time was running out.

“Four! Three!”

“Uh sure..” You swore a small sparkle in his eyes glistened at the response, his entire face lighting up.

“Two!” Chris leaned closer, grabbing your chin delicately. His finger stroked the sides of your chin as his lips filled the gap and connected with yours. His lips were firm but soft and somehow you felt safe in his embrace. The kiss was soft and feather light. It lasted for maybe a couple of seconds before Chris pulled back. Your lips were still slightly swollen and her lips felt like they were on fire. You breathed slowly and opened your eyes to find him gazing at you.

"That was... good," you said a bit dazed.

He gave you a half-grin. "You're a natural." Your face broke out into a full smile still trying to wrap your head around all of this.

“Do you mind?” Did everyone see that? Slowly your head turned to face the apparent audience all giving different reactions.”

“Minho, why don’t you kiss me like that?”

“Shut up Jisung.” Maybe this year won’t be so bad after all.

“One day i’m going to marry you!”

“Chris were only like twelve, you’re going to find someone a lot better one day.”

“I don’t think i’ll ever find anyone as perfect as you.”

“Stop it!”

“I’m serious! I love you Y/N! Forever!”

“Love you too Chrissy, hurry up before we’re late for your swim practice!”

cyberdva 2021

107 notes · View notes

vannahfanfics · 3 years

Text

Eternity

Category: Romantic Fluff

Fandom: Kingdom Hearts

Characters: Sora, Kairi

Hey, hey, everyone! You know what it is— another story for @sokaiweek, today for the prompt “Eternity”! Can you believe it’s almost over? :c I hope at least I’ve given everyone a fill of SoKai lovin’!

She stood a little over knee-deep in the surf, her fingers skimming over the foamy waves as she watched the sun sink toward the horizon. She always stared so thoughtfully at the setting sun, as if it told her secrets. A little smile graced her lips from their silent conversation, like she was chatting with an old friend. However, the strange aura of nostalgia that surrounded Kairi with the sunset was one of so many things that Sora found beautiful about her, and so every day he watched her from the shore while she had her ritualistic discussion with the dusk.

The water kissed the toes of his shoes as he sat just out of reach of the tide. In and out, the water pushed and pulled, dying the fine grains of sand dark brown as the water soaked in. Thalassa shells drifted in the waves, sometimes settling within the sand and sometimes washing back out to sea because they were destined for a journey that was a little longer. Sometimes Sora felt like a thalassa shell born by the waves, drifting between worlds where the tide’s whims carried him— but now, at last, he thought it time to settle upon a shore.

The ring box was heavy in his pocket, the corner digging into his thigh as a careful reminder it was still present. The perfect ring for the perfect woman, nestled in a little tuft of white velvet. He shifted in the sand, impatience eating away at him, but he had not the heart to interrupt Kairi’s vigil. No, she would come in from the water soon enough, and then he would ask.

As if she sensed that today would be different, she looked over her shoulder at him and smiled radiantly.

“Sora!” she called. “Come join me.” Entreatingly, she extended her hand to him, and how could he refuse? Smiling, he pushed himself up, sand raining down from the back of his pants. He kicked off his sneakers and pulled off his socks, then waded out into the surf. The sand still clinging to the dark fabric of his pants swirled away into the waves, settling on the squishy bottom with the rest of their brethren. When Sora slipped his fingers into Kairi’s, the pad of her thumb swept lovingly over the top of his hand before tugging him toward her.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” she murmured as he walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and settling his cheek on the top of her head. He only hummed in agreement because the sunset’s beauty paled in comparison to Kairi’s. Still, it was a gorgeous display— the blue of the sky gradually bled into yellow, then orange, then burning red around the bubbling yellow ball. The wisps of clouds were dyed with the hues, stretching like red yarn over the sky. The ever-shifting waves refracted the dying light like glittering gems, sparkling with a brilliance to rival the stars slowly blotting into existence. Of course, Sora was too captivated by the way the sunbeams played over the auburn of Kairi’s hair to make it shine golden-orange.

“Sora, you’re not looking,” she complained, and when she turned her head to pout, he just buried his face into her gorgeous tresses. She smelled like sea salt and paopu fruit, and it was a scent he could never get enough of.

“I’m looking at something beautiful, just not the sunset,” he smirked into her hair, and his grin widened when he heard her inhale sharply. Even after years together, he could still fluster her so easily. It was so cute.

“Stop teasing,” she groaned, wiggling in his grasp; it only made Sora hug her tighter and nuzzle into her scalp.

“I’m not teasing. I’m serious.” He peered around at her face to see her trying not to smile but dismally failing, and her blush shone opaline pink in the dying rays of the sun. Chuckling, Sora pressed a sweet kiss to her cheek, and she couldn’t help but lean into his touch with a reverent sigh. She turned her face toward him, silently petitioning him, and before giving her what she desired, he kissed the tip of her nose. She scrunched it up with a loud whine, prompting him to chuckle before finally kissing her on the lips.

They kissed there in the waves while the sun bathed them in its warm glow, as if time didn’t exist for them at all. It didn’t, not to Sora, at least; time stretched on for an eternity when he was with Kairi. Every second was an hour for him to savor; every minute was a day to taste the sweetness of her lips; every hour was a week to have her in his arms with her delectable aroma rushing into his nose and her gentle touch sending butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

Even so, Sora wanted to hear her commit to that eternity. He wanted to promise it to her at the altar. He wanted to tell her that he wanted her for an eternity in his vows, and then he wanted to spend that eternity with her.

So, that’s why he found himself huskily whispering against her lips, “I have something for you.”

“You have something for me?” she giggled, and he just responded with a rumbling hum while he fished the ring box out of his pocket. When he pulled back, her eyes were glittering with anticipation and delight. He held the ring box behind his back in one hand while he guided her to turn around with the other, but he couldn’t resist pressing another lingering kiss to her forehead.

“I love you,” he murmured, and he couldn’t put the depth of his love into physical words no matter how hard he tried. “I love you,” he breathed against her skin once more, and this time Kairi giggled and told him to get on with it and that she loved him too. Smiling, he pulled back and then showed her the ring box.

She inhaled sharply, and then exhaled when he flipped open the small box to reveal a silver band inlaid with pink sapphires.

“Sora…”

“I want you for a lifetime, Kairi,” he told her, and she looked up at him with watering eyes. He smiled brightly, tilting his head slightly as he continued, “I want to be with you for a lifetime. I can’t imagine not spending the rest of my life with you by my side, so please… marry me?” Emphatically, he held the ring out a little more, and the sunlight caught on the gemstones to make them gleam. Kairi just stared down at them with tearful eyes while she held her hands over her heart, and he allowed her a moment to find her words though the suspense was literally killing him.

“Of course,” she breathed finally, looking back up at him. “Of course! Oh my goodness! Sora!”

He cried out in alarm when she sprang at him, and he lifted the ring box above his head to keep from dropping it in the water. She latched her arms around his neck while she smothered his face in kisses and tears and giggles, and Sora did his best to try and return the favor though she was all over the place. Finally, she settled down enough to allow him to slide the ring onto her left ring finger, and she took a moment to gaze lovingly down at it.

“It’s beautiful…”

“Sure,” he smiled softly, “but I’m not looking at the ring.”

And he never would, because there was nothing more beautiful to him than the woman he loved with all his heart, nor the beautiful life they were about to spend together.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#sokai #sokaiweek #sokaiweek2021 #sora x kairi #kairi x sora #kingdom hearts

17 notes · View notes

sinfulsigh · 3 years

Text

𝙰𝚂𝙿𝙷𝚈𝚇𝙸𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙾𝙽 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝚂𝚄𝙱𝙻𝙸𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙰𝙻 𝙿𝙴𝚃𝙰𝙻𝚂

summery : he, who bloomed and ravished, sought euphoria in your high.

pairings : hanamaki takahiro x fem! reader

caution warnings : smut, nsfw, asphyxiation, marijuana

word count : 4.3k

He hated how your name felt against his tongue during an achroous downpour on a friable Monday afternoon; complaining how it’s harsh and jagged, as if it could shatter ivory molars. Your name sounded of foreign revolutions and fescennine opulence, a name he claims that static nymphs would own as they choke on nude snapdragons. So, he prefers to call you Hanaame, for the rain storm you lingered under and how he desperately wanted to pinch himself onto you for an eternity.

Delirious and illecebrous was his four o’ clock stare as he gazed at how your hair rests in heavy tussles against the rainfall, admiring how your uniform clung to to your statuesque body (exposing every soft curve and barbed edge of your anatomy); silently worshiping a sfumato muse with amaranthine forelsket that taunts him. Amid captivating midsummer showers, you were the luminary of his hazed, vain possessed reality that’s soaked in the trichromatic hues of explicit soaking. The tip of his fingers trembled lightly as they ghost over your skin, pulling away the hair that cascaded down your face—water droplets slowly descending from the ends of your hair and the curve of your face; baptising you in solstice sorrows.

“You look pretty this way,” Hanamaki informed with a honeyed, shy voice. His skin flushing the vast shades of peaches as it paints his flesh in warm tones.

You cusp your palm against his cheek, cherishing the warmth that radiates from his ambiance that felt strangely of smoke. You smiled at him, the gloss of your lips seeping into the cracks of your chapped lips as he melts in the softness of your voice, “You look beautiful in the tides of this storm.”

All he could do was stare at you with squinted eyes that are glazed in an amaranth hue. Hanamaki smirks as he allows your hand to linger for a second longer before moving his body onwards into the insouciant prisms of the storm. The light drum of thunder quaked your bones, setting the rhythm for your heart as you walked between the roars and screams of a malicious tempest.

Hanamaki’s home lingered somewhere between a busy street that is known for its dense population of hallowed bodies and rural authority of decayed forests. The lights in his home glowed with warm lights with silhouettes of his youngest sister dancing hazardously as the hem of her dress fluttered around her. You can see his mother lingering in the kitchen as the small, crystal windows placed emphasis on her beauty—her strawberry blonde hair tied into a tight bun as her nepenthe eyes rested downcast at the counter while she cut away at freshly plucked produce.

Hanamaki leads you inside his home, ignoring the shrieking greetings of his sister and his mother’s demanding call of pleads as he pushes you up the koidan-dansu staircase. His home was small with narrow hallways and thin walls, wooden floors that creaked under your weight and memories plastered in oxidized silver frames on every mahogany surface. Hanamaki’s room was in the far back of the hallway where shadows brood, and he’s profusely apologizing that the light fixture above is broken and has been for many years now. His nimble fingers sliding the door to his bedroom open as a darkened room sat in cimmerian stillness.

The smell of musk and earth envelopes you into a sense of tranquility as you push farther into his room, taking in the sight of an unmade futon laying messy on beige tatami mats and a polluted desk messied with papers and unread books. Dust collected on the surface of his bookshelf, dresser and far corners of his rooms as lone spiders spun silk plexure on his windowsill. Hidden in too obvious of spaces were selcouth paraphernalia made of glass, their crystal bodies odd yet arcane with yellow inert water and resin clinging to the neck of his bongs.

You turned to Maki, who’s reaching into his closet to grab a spare hanger, as you melt away the tears of Mother Nature’s tantrum onto the floor. You're drenched and glistening after being consumed by the rain and Hanamaki listens to the subtle droplets fall from your hair onto his floor. Like the rest of his catastrophic room, he doesn’t care that you're making a mess. If he wasn’t so occupied trying to make things comfortable for you, he would gladly get on his knees and lick every stray droplet that falls around you (in his foam gagged consciousness, anything that spills from you should never go to waste). But he keeps his composure with a deep inhale from his nose as he hands you a wire hanger.

“Here, put your clothes on that and I’ll place them in the bathroom to dry off.” Hanamaki offered before the sudden realization laved over him. His skin burning into molten hues of rose golden as he quickly added onto his statement with furrowed brows, “And while you do that, I will get you some spare clothes to wear.”

“Thanks.” You smiled, waiting for him to turn around before you discarded your clothes one by one.

You stripped away the light blue button down that caged your torso, followed by the unravel of the red ribbon secured tightly around your neck. Bare flesh being kissed by the dampened freeze of his aircon spitting clear, turbulent winds. You shutter, the vertebrae of your pretty spine vibrate in a shockwave of agglomerative climax. Gentle fingers unfastened the zipper on the side of your plaid skirt and quickly did it fall down your legs with a deadened thrash. You stepped out of your skirt and gently tucked away your clothes in an orderly fashion on the hanger, standing half naked in the midst of his room with artificial lights spotlighting the delicance and elegance of your flesh.

Hanamaki blushed, attempting to hide the tinge of apricot blush that painted his face in soft strokes, his hands trembling as he attempted to offer you a gray shirt. You thanked him as you handed off your uniform into his empty hands, watching him quickly dart out of the room as you played with the hem of his shirt. Once the door slid shut, you placed his t-shirt over your head and watched it cascade down your body as it engulfed your stature completely. A normal shirt for him was an oversized dress in contrast to your feminine build, something he admired once he returned into the sanctity of his room.

“You look pretty like this.” He praised, his smile carving into the lunar flesh of his face.

“I can say the same for you,” you pointed, acknowledging how he slipped out of his uniform to wear a plain, light blue t-shirt and a pair of sweats. “Thanks for the T-shirt.”

“I couldn’t just leave you in that wet uniform,” he exclaimed as he walked to the far side of the room. His hands brushed against the light fixture of his LED lights that quickly blazed in a violescent pigment; his hands rapidly tampering with a different, much smaller lamp that illuminated the many shades of a citrus sunset. He walked back to the other end of his room again to turn off the main light fixture, “It should be dry once you leave tonight.”

“Hopefully this storm lightens up.” You peered out the window as maudit winds routed between the spaces of buildings and trees.

“Even if it doesn’t, I don’t mind giving you my clothes so you can stay warm.”

“Such a typical guy thing to say,” you rolled your eyes.

“I’m only human and you look too pretty in my clothes,” Hanamaki reminded, looping his arms around your waist as his lips pressed a chaste kiss on the top of your head. “Thanks for skipping homework to have a smoke session with me.”

“Thank you for providing the flower.” You smiled against the skin of his collarbone, taking in his scent of musk, jasmine and coconut shampoo with earthy tones of cedar wood and lavender.

Hanamaki pushes you into the futon before giving you one last squeeze, watching you fall like dazed cinematic sequences of lovers falling in lust. The back of your head hitting the pillow too hard that it ached in a dull pulse but you didn’t mind. Your dilated eyes watch him stalk towards the long bookshelf from between your legs that gaped slightly opened. You watched him with sublime lacing your beings as his oversized hands grasped at his pink grinder with a uv dripped face, a small gray bag that tore at the seams with frayed threads while his other hand carefully held a beaker bong that's dusted in a light pink color. You felt the sudden relief of knowing that the bong you’ll be sharing is clean with freshly added water.

You watched him open his grinder, the pungent smell of terra and dirt invading your aura as he sprinkled bud into the glass bowl. You lean into him, watching Hanamaki set up everything on his own as he demands you to relax and seep closer to him with a soft smile. His warmth like molten suns as it lulls you into halcyon elation, wrinkling the fabric of his shirt as you curl your fingers across his thin torso. Lips latching onto his neck, sucking on the subtle skin that makes Hanamaki feel euphoria against the plush of your pouty lips and the slime of your saliva staining his skin. A deep moan escaped the charred airwaves of his throat, sounding sweetly of corybantic arousal.

“Hey, at least let me finish this,” he sighs, hands roaming into his bag to find the yellow lighter he believed to be was lucky. He placed the tips of his fingers against your chin, turning your head to face him with a smirk planting his face as the pad of his thumb brushed against your bottom lip that was swollen with lust and anticipation. “Here, place your mouth on the rim and inhale.”

You obeyed, leaning your head down to attach your lips against the glass and began to slowly breathe. Hanamaki held the lighter to the bowl as to set the bud ablaze; he encouraged you to suck harder with a gentle rub of his calloused hands as it traces the curvature of your spine while the smoke began to accumulate in the glass. He released his hold on his favorite lighter as he pinches the bowl of the bong tightly between long fingers, Hanamaki smiled as he gazed at you, “Okay, darling, start sucking.”

Hanamaki pulls out the bowl, making you quickly suck in the clouds that swirled in the glass bong. The water in the bong began to bubble with the force of your soft inhales, trying to match the rhythm of heavy downpours that shatter his windows. The smoke traveled down your throat, scorching into your esophagus as it settles in your lungs—the smoke burning your respiratory system as if you consumed a thousand molten, honeyed suns whole. Your lungs felt like they dropped into your core as the pain tangled your nerves and spread across your back, making you want to release the smoke you were currently choking on. You looked at Hanamaki with blurred vision as tears swelled into your eyes, the smoke you poured out of your mouth billowed around you till it dissipated into the atmosphere.

“Ah! You drooled!” Hanamaki laughed, collecting the silver spit that glossed your lips and dribbled down your chin.

“God, that hurt!” You complained in between deep breaths.

“The first hit of the day is always the hardest.” Hanamaki informed before taking the leftovers your small lungs couldn’t carry. He quickly took in the smoke and held it in his lungs like a blanket before he began to slowly choke on colorless clouds. Smoke poured out of his lips as if it was second nature as they thickened around him. Between gentle coughs, he began to speak.

“Hanamaki, can I ask you a question?” You jeered. All too soon between after school smoke sessions and tender kisses on the rooftop of your school, you began to notice how Hanamaki feigned vanity (pretending to be possessed with solar incendiary with every shallow breath and dagger pierced eyes). He wasn’t like he claimed to be, if anything, Hanamaki Takahiro was a man that had interest in everything and a deep desire to be loved. Blood deep, he was still a prelude mortal that carries inordinate vitality. But he gravitated somewhere on a spectrum of flowers blooming in a subtle reality and an acid trip of lilac skies, where pain is easily mistaken for pleasure. You were sure you knew the answer but the words still slipped past your saliva glossed lips “Are you a virgin?”

Hanamaki smiled as urged you to place your mouth against the rim of his bong, lighting the bowl as the green residing within it became blackened ash. “No, I’m not.” He said simply, no emotions carried as he pulled the bowl away, “suck hard, darling.”

You held the smoke into your lungs as your chest expanded, your eyes glazing over to Hanamaki who could only smile at you. Slowly, you felt skin heat under his stare and all at once, the shame relaxed your spine as your lungs pleaded for oxygen—like a slave to your body, you obeyed as the smoke pooled out of your mouth slowly to create thick mist between you. Quickly, you let out a sharp cough that scraped away at the flesh from behind your throat. Hanamaki mutters how cute you were before he played with his glass to seek his high.

“I’m still a virgin.” You admitted.

The bubbles of his bong roared as he swallowed the thick cloud that billowed in his bong. He held the smoke inside his lungs for a minute as his lips carved into a smile, his head nodding in understanding, as if he knew. You were a good girl and he just ended up becoming the floral demon that took possession of your nectar spine, quickly corroding the prayers etched into your grapefruit brain. He made assumptions of you, just as you did of him, but he could never call you anything with malicious intent. Like he said the first time you smoked with him beneath the rose hedges of his home as bumblebees swayed around you, ‘you’re the world to me’. He blew out his smoke, the front of his teeth brushing together before returning your stare, “I know, baby.”

Lean bodies protrude closer as Hanamaki slid closer to your aura, his slender fingers gently scraped at the curve of your face. Your skin was coaxed in slime and salt, oddly did it remind Hanamaki of the rapid rivers from behind his house and how the mist of fresh water soaked his skin. His thumb brushes against the edge of your cheek bone before his hand slowly glides downwards to rest on the base of your neck; his lips finding the corner of your parted mouth as he kissed you gently—the taste of the cannabis stained onto his skin invading your sense of taste that burst of charred earth lave your tongue.

Hanamaki grasped your wrist, willing to pull you deeper into his core of guilty pleasures. And just how willing he was to expose the rot and hallucinations that polluted his mangled body, you willingly stepped into his delusions of lilac skies where flowers bloomed vibrantly and violently—saturated in the acid that distorts your angelic image into a nymph that births peonies. He leaned forward, hovering his chapped lips above yours as waited for your signal, hoping it was fine to sink into your solar prisms and taste the honey from your lips. Eyes half lidded, he sweetly framed your mouth to his with open mouth kisses. His touches feel comforting as his weight is forged onto you and he pulls you down.

Nimble fingers card through his hair, the tip of your fingernails scratching against his scalp but he didn’t mind. It only encouraged him more with fever blossoming beneath his pale skin, your touch was something he craved and Hanamaki desired to capture it more with greed in hands.

Hanamaki bit the bottom of your lip before pulling away, gasping for air as you were far more dangerous than any smoke he could devour. “Hanaame,” he gasped, as if it was your actual name. The tips of his fingers inched higher above the hem of his t-shirt draped on your body as they roamed against your skin. You followed his movements, slowly pulling at the cloth that entraps his body till it raised just above his navel. Your fingertips brushed every hard edge and muscle of his torso before he replaced your hands with his, quickly discarding his shirt that suddenly felt too heavy to bear.

With furrowed brows, he gently placed his hands on your stomach from where your skin exposed, looking at you with half lidded eyes as you gave him the okay to touch your flesh. He slowly pulled at the hem of his shirt, raising it up to reveal your chest that was adorned in a bra that matched your black panties. Raindrops fell onto your skin from the open cracks of his window, painting you in cold, summer rainstorms as Hanamaki discarded the shirt; your body leaning forward from the assistance of your numbing elbows digging into the fabric of his futon. You harshly pressed your mouth against him again, missing the mold of his lips that feel like strelitzias swarming around you. The lingering taste of ash and earth of his lips felt hot in comparison to the rain that drizzled over you.

Water droplets began to pile against you, pooling into the spaces of your collarbones and neck muscles that you shivered. Hanamaki wanted to cure you of the pale freeze that glimmered onto your skin, jealous of how the rain loved you with it’s elixir offerings, so much so that attached his open mouth against your neck and dragged his tongue down. He cleaned the salt and purity from your skin, the sweat and nectar that doused you as the feel of your flesh mimicked the heat from oblivious, vermilion hell fires. He sipped on the rain fall that ruined your gentle image, knowing in the back of his mind he’ll become sick with infections that will soon saturate his organs with toxicity. However, he didn’t mind and it proved as his tongue still swayed against your skin.

Hands trembled as they pulled at the hem of your black panties, pulling them down slowly as you adjusted to the sudden chill of being bare and exposed. Hanamaki searched for your evening stare through half lidded eyes, assuring that he wasn’t pushing boundaries. Shaken fingers trembled as they gently pressed against the slit of your opening before they ran upwards to press lightly on your clit. You stirred, letting out a soft hiss as your body trembled from his touch, and for a moment he was scared that he harmed you but the apprehension that laced his translucent flesh washed away when he noticed your legs opening just slightly. He pressed agonizing small circles around you, adoring the sweet mewls that leave your lips with a drunken smile—saturated in euphoria at the beauty sprawled out in front of him as his high quickly takes over.

His movements felt slow as he carefully pushed away the hairs that curtained your face. The pad of his thumb brushing over your bottom lip before grazing it over your eyelid, smearing the eyeshadow and liquid eyeliner that painted you in renaissance beauty. “Open your eyes,” Hanamaki demanded, leaning his body closer to yours as you felt his hardened cock rest painfully on your thigh.

You obeyed, your vision going hazy like a noise filter. For a second you couldn’t comprehend as to why your body reacted in such a way but you couldn’t escape this high that made you feel like mauve flowers blooming underneath the heat of a uv lamp. You felt dizzy, as if you orbited around Saturn’s orange halo rings yet you knew perfectly well that you laid still and composed under Hanamaki. You reached out your hand to cusp his face, your reaction time slow as your limbs felt too heavy.

“Your eyes,” he complimented, “Are a beautiful shade of red.”

“I feel like the color purple, rare and untouchable.” You murmured, “But I know I’m in nude tones of skin shows and it’s just my aura slowly reaching enlightenment under the haze of your influence.”

He smiles at you, returning his lips to your skin as his fingers trailed down to feel the nectar collecting at your opening. His fingertips coated in slime as he pushed one digit in, curving his digit against your walls to witness the reaction of ecstasy that laced your bones. He moved his fingers in rhythmic tone, sliding in and out before needing to replace his slender fingers with his raged member that demanded to be noticed.

He grasped the base of his cock, sliding it between you in slow pushes to give you time to adjust to his length. He shutters at your unintentional squeeze as you milk him, Hanamaki never realizing how loud his gasps and grunts are as the pounding in his heart (from embarrassment, the pleasure and the high) became too coherent in his racing mind. The grip around your hips could break, allowing the black ichor spill like ink, blotching your flesh in a bouquet of flowers. Once he’s fully in, he recomposes, staring at you with the casual sparkle in his eyes as his smile resurfaces. Hanamaki traces the skin from just below your eyes, demanding you look at him with those red eyes that captivate him completely like salacious artwork hanging proudly in elegant museums.

“I can take you even higher,” he admits, fingertip brushes tracing softly against your neck, “I can take you away from this reality.”

You don’t say anything, still attempting to understand his words as they pour slowly out his lips. The reaction of his fingers on your skin was delayed, and it wasn’t until he pulled away did you notice his lingering advances. Once you could comprehend his words, you nodded your head, shaking it so quickly that it pulled at your center of gravity. “Okay,” you meekly whispered, giving him consent before you completely forget what he offered, “Just don’t kill me.”

Hanamaki pressed his lips onto yours sweetly before pulling away, his words tracing your lips in the same hush toned you spoke, “I could never.”

Because, you were his world.

He quickens his thrust, his hips carving into yours as if you’re a goddess demanding to be worshipped. You could feel the pleasure resonating from your love and spreads—every little edge and surface of your skin feeling sensitive to the touch of his lust. The slam of his hips felt like thunder as it echoed and reverberated off the thin walls of his room, and in the back of your mind before you forget about it mid sentence was, ‘I’m sure his mother can hear us.’ But Hanamaki didn’t mind, he wasn’t ashamed to let his mother know that he was deep within the bathic caverns of the girl he worshipped.

He knew you would most likely come before him, so quickly he fulfilled his promise and offered his hands to you. The palm of his hands pressing tight against the side of your neck as the curve of his thumbs sat against the base of your neck. Once he paved inside, he began to squeeze, restricting your breathing as his hips hit hard against your liquid love. He ignored the rainfall that slaps against his limbs, the cold thrush of droplets adoring his skin like impaled jewels. Disregarding the water droplets that splashed against his narrow shoulder blades and traveled downwards across his spine. And under him, you were soft with widened eyes as you try to comprehend his soothing words. ‘It’s going to be okay,’ he assured and you believed it, ‘cause deep within your core, he’s nurturing the lotuses that wilted as the stomach acid dissipated from your organs. Hanamaki was a literal demon, adored in flowers as he puked up petals beneath your naked frame—he could make you witness the destruction of paracosms and rebuild the dimensions that you nuked with heartache with the growth of florals and cannabis oils.

Your vision faded into this reality to a white cascade that appeared like static in your dilated pupils. Against his palms, he could feel the gentle pulse that fastens with every pace of his hips. Once you could witness the rebirth of this reality, your vision still clouded in noise and static, everything felt slow. His pace, his touch, your buildup. You never notice how the rain pours onto your bare flesh, or how Hanamaki’s heated exhales mist your skin. Slowly, did you feel euphoria tightened around your love as it escalated heavily before the vertigo grew overwhelming.

“H—Hana...maki!” You moaned, “I think I’m going to—!”

“It’s fine, darling.” He whispered, “Come, it’s okay.”

With or without his permission, your climax heightened as your hips raised against his careless rhythm. His cock brushed against your cervix as his hands began to squeeze tighter around your neck. As you slipped out of this reality, you released the pressure that pooled inside, your body seizing with the heavy weight of your climax and milked his cock.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He moans.

His hips continued to thrust as he formed his lips onto yours, swallowing your moans and saliva as he too was close to reaching his high. Beneath him, you felt the wave of euphoria graze your daybreak ambiance, shedding away the title of mortal to enter a slow metamorphosis of godly.

#after;⛓;dark #hanamaki takahiro #hanamaki x reader #hanamaki smut #cw; asphyxiation #cw;weed #cw; marijuana #cw; smut #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #hq x you #hq scenarios #hq makki #makki x reader #makki scenarios

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arigatouiris · 4 years

Text

of daisies and sunshine // tanjiro x reader

Author’s Note: Someone requested a Tanjiro one shot, and while I am glad to say I’m working on it, I’m also so so sorry that it’s taking so long! This is not the request, this is something that’s been in my draft for SO LONG that I felt bad and had to publish it before the request came out. I’m sorry it’s taking so long, but please bear with me, it’s getting a bit harder each day for me to continue with this quarantine. I love ya’ll and I hope you like this.

Word count: 3686

Pairing: Tanjiro Kamado x Reader

Warnings: depressive themes, angst, SPOILERS FOR KIMETSU MANGA, fluff at the end?

If there was something that could describe Tanjiro Kamado as a person, it was that he was a big brother. He was used to having his little siblings steal food off his plate, taking care of them when they were sick, making little sacrifices that one normally wouldn’t even be aware that he was making. Except maybe Nezuko, who also had to do something similar at times.

But, Nezuko had a big brother. It showed and displayed in his aura, and Tanjiro wouldn’t have it any other way. While he would never say otherwise, there was no space in his heart where Tanjiro wished things were different.

Perhaps the angst that followed drove his mind into completely accepting his role as a big brother, if he hadn’t already. His life revolved around having Nezuko safe, figuring out some way to turn her back into a human being—there were no distractions. Only with her recovery can there be hope for a new, good life; only with Nezuko bring brought back can there be a chance for Tanjiro to let a tad bit of selfishness course through his veins, and there was nothing that could change what was set out for them.

Nothing, except you.

When Tanjiro first met you, you were just another demon slayer, with a tragic past—a past that he could whiff off of you, but nothing that surprised him. His heart went out to how you carried that sadness, as if you were unashamed to own it, a part of your life that now drives you, motivates you, brings you strength. However, your personality was that of sunshine and daisies, with you around, laughter followed closely behind, and your eyes carried such softness with them that it almost took his breath away.

He understands that you could be mistaken for being careless, but Tanjiro’s senses forbade him from letting things slide—he sensed your sorrow, like no one else had, and he was more than glad to be there if ever you need him to. Yet, you carried on—silly and carefree, play-fighting with Inosuke, ignoring Zenitsu’s attempts at befriending her, trying to learn more about what was in Tanjiro’s box, everything made him curious to what you carried within yourself. An aroma of sadness lodged in your heart, only made him wonder what else drove you.

It was one night when he was tending to an awake Nezuko did Tanjiro realize he was missing you. It wasn’t strange that he felt the familiar emotion of ‘wanting someone who is not there to be beside him’, he had lost his entire family apart from his little sister, but it was strange, for Tanjiro, to miss someone who was still alive. Nezuko watched him curiously, and he understood from her gaze that if she could speak she would ask him what’s wrong.

“It’s just...” The way you would smile at him captivated him when the sunlight hit your hair. “Nezuko, I...”

He gulped, feeling as if something was stuck in his throat. Nezuko grunted in response, but waited—it was Tanjiro’s turn to figure things out. He turned to look at his sister and noticed how heavy her gaze was. It was strange for Tanjiro to miss another person, not having felt this way before in his entire life. But, he wasn’t oblivious to it, he knew what it might be but he felt so devastated that this emotion chose to meet him now. He clenched his fingers on his thigh, his legs outstretched by the engawa, and he took a deep breath.

He remembered how you looked, how you smelled—daisies and sunshine, he had attributed the appearance to you based on what you made him feel—and he could never forget the smell of your trauma, whatever it was.

He shook his head and shut his eyes. If only he could feel this way and not have guilt wrap around his features; Nezuko’s penetrating gaze reminded him of what he could not forget, of what he could not ever forsake and if it meant forsaking the fact that he loved you, then so be it.

However, things began to get strange. Missions were shorter, and required very little of Tanjiro’s presence. The only one who seemed happy was Zenitsu, for their trips to the wisteria estate increased in number, with missions ending in a day or two. Inosuke would run off doing god knows what, but it was always the three of them—Zenitsu, Tanjiro and Nezuko, who’d arrive to rest. Tanjiro considered these collection of days to be the calm before the storm, he knew that the rest was important. Nevertheless, the one night that he entered he was given something by the old lady.

“The one with the weird face told me to give you this,” Tanjiro thought it was a bit mean, but the old lady meant no harm. Weird could mean pretty too?

His eyes widened when he saw a daisy stuck to a small letter. His heart was beating rapidly now, his hands shaking at the sight of something so small that was moving so much inside of him. Zenitsu popped up behind him and his eyes widened.

“Did... Did (y/n)-chan give you this?!”

Tanjiro knew it was you. Yet, he couldn’t understand how you knew he associated you with that flower. A soft smile sat on his features, a part of him not wanting to open the letter and just stare at it for all eternity; another part of him was quickly reminded of Nezuko and he knew he had to put her to bed. Bringing his hand down, he quickly rushed inside, ignoring Zenitsu’s wails to open the letter to see what it says.

It was after dinner and after his friend went to sleep did Tanjiro come back to the engawa to open the letter. He half prayed that it wasn’t what he thought it was, it would only make things harder for him—tears filled his eyes when he thought of how he wished it wasn’t anything close to love, how badly he wished if he could wish for the same.

Tanjiro-san, it read. I hope you’re wasting some time from time to time.

He chuckled, scrunching his eyes a bit before continuing to read. I know you think of daisies when you see me, because Inosuke-kun told me. Not that I mind, daisies are so pretty! Also, I left a daisy there on purpose so you’d think of me for a moment.

I think of you for more than just a moment, he thought regretfully, but you would never know.

Because I think of you a lot these days. Tanjiro’s breath got stuck in his throat. I think of you a lot because your hair reminds me of a warm autumn evening, and while I know autumn is never warm, you are the warmth that one would feel during a severe winter. Your smile is generous, yet careful, and I see what you try to do.

His lips were quivering now.

Tanjiro-san, I won’t say anything you don’t want to hear right now so I’ll wait. Because I am certain that whatever it is that you achieve to do, you will. You have a heart of gold and nerves of everlasting strength, so if you feel weak at times like this, always remember, you are my symbol of fortitude.

Tanjiro wiped the tears before they fell. Closing the letter and holding the daisy close, he thought of you—wherever you were at the moment—and allowed himself to feel what he felt for you. It was going to be a long, dark night but not quite as dark as it was in the abyss of his heart where there was nothing but hollowness, yet it felt heavy, almost as if someone still resided there. No, someone did reside there—you were slowly building a home for yourself there and not one part of you wanted to wait. Yet, there came a patience with this letter that brought him a strange sense of strength; strength that could only come with a lover saying, ‘be still, my heart’, and Tanjiro could be who he wanted, finish what he started and return home to you.

The next morning, Tanjiro handed the old lady a persimmon, asking her to give it to you.

“She’s got a pretty face,” Tanjiro said with a smile, and the lady nodded.

“You know,” He heard Zenitsu say, “It’s getting really pathetic, Tanjiro.”

“What is?”

“This entire dance that you’ve got going with (y/n)-chan,” Tanjiro blinked, “You’re being a sap.”

“A sap?”

“You know,” the blond groaned, “If you like her, you should tell her!”

“I like a lot of people, Zenitsu. Even you!” Tanjiro laughed it off only to hear his best friend curse at him some more.

The next mission reunited Inosuke to the three of them. They had to scale a mountain by the wisteria estate to finish off a group of demons before they could come back for some rest. Inosuke was wounded, having broken two ribs, for which Tanjiro knew he had to escort his friend back to the estate. That evening however, time stilled as they reached the place.

By the engawa, composing another letter, was you.

“Ah!”

You blinked and looked up to find Tanjiro, Zenitsu and a wounded Inosuke, before your face turned a bright red and you haphazardly hid the letter you were writing.

“Tanjiro-kun! Zenitsu-kun! Inosuke—”

“Hah?! What are you doing here?! Do you wanna—”

“No!” Tanjiro and you screamed at the same time at Inosuke, who seriously needed a beating before being taken inside.

That night, you approached Tanjiro bashfully, sitting beside him.

“Zenitsu is...?”

“He’s asleep. It was tiring, this mission.”

“Why aren’t you asleep?” I’m glad you aren’t, you thought.

Because I wanted to talk to you, “Just not as exhausted, I think?”

“That box...” You started, “The demon inside is someone important, right?”

Tanjiro’s eyes widened, “How—”

“Give me some credit, I’m a demon slayer too!” You giggled.

Tanjiro paused before looking away, sighing deeply, “She’s... She’s my sister. Nezuko. She was turned into a demon one day, and... Muzan butchered my family... She was the only one alive.”

Your eyes widened. “But she—”

“She hasn’t hurt anyone! She hasn’t even killed a human before. She’s made to think that she has to protect humans and kill demons. I know I can turn her back. I know I can... Muzan needs to... Muzan needs to die.”

You paused, your throat stuck with a hard stone. Tanjiro suddenly smelled the sudden rush of angst from you, noticing your eyes welling with tears. It was as if you were weeping to cleanse yourself, like your body needed to be emptied. Tanjiro wanted to touch you so badly right then, but he wasn’t sure what to do. For the first time, comforting you felt strange.

“(y/n)-chan—”

“It’s so hard to not love you, Tanjiro-san,” Tanjiro’s eyes widened and his breath was stuck in his throat, “I understand now why... Why you hold back—”

“It has nothing to do with you, (y/n)-chan! I just—”

A grunt sounded from behind the both of you and your eyes met a girl’s—pink eyes and beautiful, wavy brown hair. She wore a pink kimono and a bamboo nuzzle on her mouth. You immediately understood that this was Nezuko, Tanjiro’s sister, and somehow seeing her in the flesh made you cry more. Nezuko’s hand touched the top of your head and that had you fall into her hands and sob like no tomorrow. The female demon sat infront of you, holding you and cradling you as you cried, while Tanjiro watched.

His heart was pounding and he almost couldn’t breathe. It was as if he was sunk into water and there was no room for air, watching the woman he loved with all his heart crumble before him shattered his soul, but seeing Nezuko comfort her gave him a twisted sense of joy.

“I had a sister,” You said, pulling away from Nezuko. Your hand reached over to pet her, her eyes closing, “She’d be Nezuko’s age now if she was alive.”

Tanjiro didn’t want to guess what happened.

“My sister was turned into a demon,” Tanjiro froze, “She killed everyone in our family. My father, my mother... My grandmother... It was... It was the Love Pillar who killed her after that. She embraced me and told me to become a demon slayer because I was strong and I’d meet people like me... She gave me a home for a while and trained me... But she... I see Nezuko-chan now and all I can think of is how much I can hope again.”

You turn to Tanjiro and held his hand, “Please... Please turn Nezuko-chan back. I know you will, even without me having to tell you, but now... Do this for me, too?”

Tanjiro’s grip around your hand tightened. He nodded once before feeling warmth return to your heart.

“I try to smile and laugh all the time because... My sister always told me that there’s beauty in being silly.”

“Your sister sounds like a smart girl.” Tanjiro said, unconsciously shifting closer to you.

“She was.” You whispered, laying your head on his shoulder, Tanjiro’s hand traversed to your shoulder and held you close.

Nezuko laid her head on your lap and closed her eyes. You believed you could stay like this forever.

“You deserve the world, Tanjiro-kun.” You whispered, not sure if he could hear it.

Tanjiro turned to you, your faces inches apart.

“(y/n)-chan, I’ll marry you one day,” Your eyes widened at his sudden outburst, “We’ll start a family. I want to—”

You shake your head, your hand was on his cheek now. Tanjiro paused, unsure of what to do.

“You have to kill Muzan first. Help Nezuko-chan. Once everything is over, come find me. There is no use as long as Muzan lives, and Tanjiro-kun, you’re the only one who can stop him. I can feel it. I pass my wrath to you, Tanjiro-kun, so I beg of you, win. Win for me and my family, and for Nezuko-chan.”

Tears fill both your eyes and Tanjiro softly places his forehead on to yours.

“I’ll come find you.”

You nod, wanting nothing more than to kiss him. He knows you feel the same and if neither one of you pulls away now, it may have led to a kiss. But, you were sure. Neither one of you was going to confess now. You were not going to let your love for this boy shatter his resolve, you were not going to make him sway. If anything, your love for him would only motivate him to finish what he started, to get where he needs to be. You lean aside and plant a soft kiss to his cheek before pulling away.

“Not a word until then!” You whispered playfully.

You had heard of Muzan’s defeat only a week after it had actually happened. Your first thought was of Tanjiro and Nezuko’s well-being, and if they survived the war. You’d also heard of Kanroji’s demise, along with Obanai-san’s, Gyomei-san’s, as well as several other demon slayers who’d given their lives to save humanity. However, you cursed yourself for feeling a tad bit relieved that Tanjiro and the crew were safe. It wasn’t that you weren’t allowed to rejoice that the man you loved was doing alright, but it was among other things.

You heard they were at the butterfly estate and you quickly headed over there, feeling guilty that you had not taken part in the duel, having not been there for Tanjiro when he needed you most. You had just completed a mission and were resting when the big fight broke out, and not being part of the entire ordeal was something you promised you could never forgive yourself for, till the day you died.

And if Tanjiro or Nezuko were hurt during the whole thing, you’d regret it till your last breath.

You walked over and gasped when your eyes fell on Nezuko’s form, your eyes welling up with tears as you watched her interact and talk—having been turned back to a human being. Your hands shook as they covered your mouth, with you mumbling silent prayers to any god that was listening to you. Nezuko’s gaze fixed upon you, taking a second to recognize who you were.

She rushed to you and embraced you quickly, her scent embedding in your form rather sharply.

“Nezuko-chan, you’re... you’re—”

“(y/n)-san, right?” She pulled away, staring at you lovingly, “You saved my brother’s life!”

Your eyes widened, and you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You shook your head slowly, unable to process her words. Nezuko noticed your hesitance in grasping her words, and she giggled lightly before her grip on your shoulders tightened.

“Nii-san was... He was turned into a demon for a brief second,” You let out a gasp at her words, “And he wasn’t turning back into a human. He even attacked Inosuke-san, and me... But... I talked to him! I reminded him of us, his family... And I reminded him of you. Upon your mere mention, (y/n)-chan, he paused and stilled, as if something was still alive in him! I am glad you never got to see him that way, because if he had let you see him the way he was, he’d never forgive himself. But, he won’t deny it. You saved him. Your memory, the love he has for you. It made all the difference.”

Your eyes welled with tears, it was getting difficult to see Nezuko’s smiling face. Her hands were still on your shoulder, gripping them and instilling in them confidence that you had lacked because you blamed yourself for missing the fight. You blamed yourself for resting when others sacrificed themselves, but here she was, telling you that your absence made a difference.

It was still something you couldn’t believe.

“Nezuko-chan, I want to see him?” You had no idea why your words came out like a question.

“He’s asleep, but yes. He’s recovering slowly.”

She led you to where Tanjiro slept, and all you could do was gaze at him lovingly. He looked the way silence looked before it was broken. You were tempted to touch him, but you didn’t want to disturb his peace—you silently prayed he was having a good dream, a dream well deserved of all the trouble he had gone through. You didn’t even realize you were crying, just the mere thought of how much Tanjiro had gone through was enough to put your mind into utter chaos, and if you could shoulder all of his pain, you would gladly step into fire for this boy.

Sometimes, it left you breathless with how much you loved him.

Days passed and Tanjiro slept on. You had made good friends with Kanao, who was equally bed-ridden; she had woken up a few days after you arrived to the estate. Kanao told you about the fight, of how Tanjiro pressed on; she became your eyes and narrated the entire ordeal. You noticed Inosuke learning the ways of being a regular person—not stealing food, learning to use chop-sticks, gazing at the stars at night, watching over Tanjiro as he slept. Zenitsu told you about his grandfather and helped with watching over his friend as well; the boys had changed so much in such a short time.

After having gone through such an ordeal.

You entered Tanjiro’s room one day, almost a month after the ordeal and found him staring out the window. You froze at the sight before rushing over to him and hugging him softly, tears spilling out your eyes and onto his hair and face. His one fine arm wrapped around you and you could hear him chuckle, you wanted to beat him for laughing at a time like this but when you pulled away, you were met with a pair of the kindest eyes you had ever seen.

“Tanjiro-kun... I wish... I wish I was there for you—”

“You were,” His good hand went to yours, and he brought it to his lips, “You made me human again.”

You wanted to deny his words, you wanted to give him more, and you didn’t know what more you could give.

“You deserve so much! You deserve so much more than me...” You cried, thinking of him and merely him.

“If you think I deserve something then what I deserve is to choose who I want to be with,” His words were calm and mellow, though his eyes were tearing up, “You may not want to believe how you helped me, but it was your thought that kept me going. I wanted to come back to you, introduce you to Nezuko, marry you, have kids with you!”

You bit your lip and a bitter smile sat on your features, “I did say you had to come back and find me.”

Tanjiro’s hand rested on your cheek as he whispered, “There you are.”

A moment later, you kissed him squarely on the lips, not bothered by the tears leaking out of his eyes, or yours. You made sure to hold him softly, not intending to put any pressure to any part of his body—though it felt like years that you’d wanted to kiss him. You pulled away for a second to tell him,

“I love you so much.”

And to have him say,

“I love you, too, (y/n)-chan.”

And to have him continue kissing every single inch of your face. He did not know he was even capable of something like this, but the thought of you being here, in his arms, alive and well, intending to fulfil a promise made over sunshine and daisies was all he could care about.

Pulling away, he saw it for a brief second—his future. You, him—a field of daisies. It was only beginning now. For the first time in his life, Tanjiro was going to think of himself; not as a big brother, not as a caretaker, not as anything else in the world other than—

—Tanjiro himself.

#tanjiro kamado #tanjiro x reader #tanjiro kamado x reader #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kamado tanjiro x reader #kamado tanjiro #nezuko #kamado nezuko #nezuko kamado #zenitsu #inosuke #kanao #kanroji #obanai #hashira #muzan #tanjiro vs muzan

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moonartemisia · 3 years

Text

Jewel: Moriarty the Patriot Scriptures || James Bond × Tiffany Hemsworth ( Yuumori Canon × Oc )

Type: Script

Scenario: Short scene of the aftermath of how James Bond and Stephanie Cris Hemsworth captured a criminal inside of Count Griffin Winstershire’s Night Ball due to a surprise attack.

Pairing: James Bond × Oc (Canon × Oc)

Note: sfw, fluff, romance, flirting, teasing

Author's Note:

I created this script for my Creative Writing subject due to not having any ideas to create a script as a project requirement. Since, I love Yuumori and James Bond I decided to work on with this. It's also fine for me to share it because this script is already recorded and I won't let it go to waste! I'm thanking this subject as well now that I can write a proper script. Moreover, this script is part of the James Bond × Oc oneshot I'm still planning to write in the future. Anyways enjoy!

Person #1: How did you manage to catch that barf? A valorous, excellent, and brave man such as you manage to take him down on the act, good sir.

Bond: Oh, thank you for that compliment. How flattering! Honorably, I couldn’t have done it without my partner in crime, Stephanie, for she seeks trust and helps to guide me into this mishap. My regards without her help or else this event would be in a disastrous state.

Person #1: Was she the Earl’s relative I heard? Did she? Intriguing that woman has lots of praise from people around her. Stephanie, huh? Her charisma in every event apprehends to her utmost attention by the guests. I can see why…

Bond: She does have a strong appeal, well Steph has this beautiful attraction. But, I don’t think that’s the case— my! Pardon, I have talked too much.

Person #2: Mr. Bond, what’s your relationship with Stephanie?

Bond: Relation? Well, simply like I said! Partners in crime, though I rarely sided with her at times. But, if you could put it how I interacted towards her...she’s interesting and sly. The position of compatibility is precise because her outwitted persona flows with my bold and confident manners.

( Bond thoughtfully laughs )

Person #2: Speaking of her, where did your partner go off to?

Bond: What? Stephanie isn’t present right now? Hm, now that you’ve mentioned it...after the caught-up incident she hasn’t shown up? God, you’re right...she is not anywhere from the crowds.

Person #2: I think you should go and find her, the ball will eventually end long.

( Bond starts to look for Stephanie and talks to the crowd if there’s any trace of her. But no one knows where she is. He ends up running outside to check only to find her outside the garden quietly sitting at the edge of a big spring fountain. Bond left a sigh )

Bond: so there you are… I thought you easily left without my notice.

Stephanie: Bond? Oh, you found me and there’s no way I can go that easily. Staying here was my decision than showing up to the people in these rags. See?

Bond: And what about you looking in rags?

Stephanie: How can I go back there when this? Well, I have nothing else to replace and change my gown after all the mayhem had happened, Bond.

Bond: You mean how you have torn that gown of yours to take the upper hand earlier? It was a clever move, Stephanie. I am concerned you struggled running just to chase an ugly criminal. Yet, ought to regret serving your conscience by only a ruined gown? The guests were searching for you…

Stephanie: No, I won’t return there...let me be.

Bond: Then, I don’t mind being your company. Mind if I sit next to you?

Stephanie: Suit yourself…

( Bond sits next to her on the fountain. It was a quiet night and they are the only ones present in the garden. The chilly wind blow passed by them )

Bond: Hmm, also it’s cold here. You should put something on your shoulders. I can feel the shivers sending through your body. Here, you can have my jacket.

Stephanie: You don’t have to, I’m barely fine and used to the cold. Man, that early attack made my tension act up, you know?

Bond: That doesn’t change the fact you stayed outside for minutes, Steph. You should’ve told me to accompany you here if you feel drastic showing up how you ruined your gown. Alas, I can’t blame you since this is your relative’s party, yet you will not let those bad guys get in the way.

Stephanie: Exactly that’s how it is, Bond...now stop talking nonsense. We have solved this matter already, end of the story. I need time alone, but now that you came.

( Bond swings his jacket over her shoulders )

Stephanie: ...you never listened.

Bond: Tiffany, I insisted however I can’t let a woman like you be in a shaded cold. Don’t mind me, just wear my coat, it's only for the night.

Stephanie: You...I can never say no to your favors. Ugh, fine...thank you anyway, James.

Bond: Huh? How strange…

Stephanie: Hm, what strange? Did I say something wrong?

Bond: No, I mean it's the first time you call me by my first name…

Stephanie: So what?

Bond: Often you addressed me as Bond. I know we rarely interact back at William’s manor in Durham. How about James, then? Hm, isn't it fine for you Stephanie?

Stephanie: I can call you whatever I pleased, James…

Bond: Although, it's better this way hear you calling my first name for the first time was pleasant.

Stephanie: Just because I call you James, nevertheless you’re right. I haven’t called you James before. Hm, then I’ll call you that from now on.

Bond: Alright, I’d love to hear that every time coming from a witty lady like you Ms. Hemsworth…

( The music inside the ballroom suddenly played louder than the two can barely hear from where they are sitting. It was a smooth and melodic waltz dance music )

Stephanie: Lovely music…

Bond: So, it appears another dance number from afar has started, I see. It’s a soothing ballroom waltz.

Stephanie: Aren’t you going back there?

Bond: What and leave you here? Nope, I said to accompany you.

Stephanie: Well, you should immediately go over there, have fun, and dance for a moment. I’ll be here by the fountain. I won’t leave elsewhere, James.

Bond: Too hard to pursue yourself? When I said no, no. Stephanie.

Stephanie: There is no hope of stopping you at all. By the way, have you danced with someone yet, James? What about the previous one you joined in?

Bond: Umm, well I did. But I was trying to reserve a hand for you to dance with me. Yes, they are countless ladies I ever take an opportunity to. Unfortunately, you were no longer in sight; I was searching for you…basically, I want to engage a moment with you for the first time.

Stephanie: O-oh? Sorry, I was too busy handling guests, remember? The ball we are attending is held by my relatives of Winstershires. As they expected me to greet every one of the people who are invited.

Bond: Amusing of you, Steph. Simply implying your captive beauty and graceful aura within the venue. Like a jewel, a shining mineral that everybody wishes.

Stephanie: A jewel you say? Hmm, flattering. Though, my apologies.

Bond: Nevermind, no need to say your pardon. Indeed we are here. Oh, Steph.

Stephanie: Yes?

( Bond stands up dusting himself and offers Stephanie a hand, he is grinning )

Stephanie: Now, what’s with that look?

Bond: Care to dance with me?

Stephanie: Dance with you in these rags? My gown is torn apart, James. I don't think I can dance in this gown any longer. I feel ashamed to take your offer.

Bond: Come on, a chance to dance with a lady like you is a prosperous enchantment.

Stephanie: Am I fool, to say the least? No, James…

Bond: Stubborn woman, did I say I want to dance with you back there? I'm going to dance with you here.

Stephanie: B-but my gown…

Bond: Who cares about your gown? It never matters for me...I never had the chance to offer you dance with me earlier, Stephanie. Then, here we are alone in this garden and the fountain as our background. So?

Stephanie: You had me no choice…

( Stephanie will accept Bond’s hand in place and they start to dance alone )

Bond: Say, look at me.

Stephanie: N-no.

Bond: I said look

( Bond will reach out her chin holding it gently and make her look at him )

Stephanie: You’re not ashamed? You're dancing with me in these rags I have torn off before.

Bond: Steph, you’re getting conscious about yourself. We are alone, no one will find us here dancing and having our peaceful moments just the two of us.

Stephanie: Still, I’m embarrassed…

Bond: Look, Stephanie. Like I said it never bothers me. You see, what I see in you was never your presentable figures, physically. Your born attributes and upbringing were already beautiful. You are, genuinely speaking.

( pause silence between them )

Bond: My jewel, to me you’re forever beautiful in my eyes…

#anime / manga #moriarty the patriot #scriptures #yuumori oc #yuumori #moriarty #james bond #yuukoku no moriarty #purple scripts

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