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seijorhi · 8 months

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Wither and Bleed

sorry for the wait y'all <33 Daishou Suguru x female reader, Kuroo Tetsurou x female reader w.c 4.6k tw: dubcon, yandere themes, kidnapping, nsfw, stockholm syndrome, mentions of blood, alcoholism, mild smut

Daishou eyes the bottom of his glass dispassionately, watching the amber dregs of whiskey roll as he slowly tilts it – pointedly ignoring the sound of footsteps approaching, the low, mocking whistle that follows.

“I’d say it’s good to see you, Daishou, but I gotta be honest, this place is a dump and you look like shit.”

There’s a flush high on his cheekbones, his eyes are glazed, bloodshot. Despite the heaviness in his head, the liquor fuelled haze and exhaustion that makes pulling a coherent train of thought… somewhat difficult, he’s not so far gone that he can’t recognise the grating voice and accompanying laugh.

One more. One more, and maybe then he’ll stumble off home to continue drinking in peace. That, or he’ll pass out the second he hits the couch. At this point, he’s not picky.

“Another,” he rasps at the bartender, whose only response, aside from the surly look he sends Daishou’s way, is to unscrew the cap of the bottle of cheap whiskey and tilt it back over his glass. Glaring, all the while.

Once upon a time, Daishou might’ve said something to that. Made some snarky remark, goaded him ‘til he got a rise – or got his ass thrown out.

(You’d chide him for it, too, in that exasperated tone of yours. He’d be tempted to think you were serious, but you’d sigh, call him hopeless and your hand would snake in his on the walk home anyway.)

Disdainful sneers, the staring, the whispers and pointing, baldie behind the bar wouldn’t be the first stranger to recognise him. Daishou can’t even blame the guy, really. A woman goes missing, all eyes turn to the husband. The boyfriend. The ex. He might be a piece of work, depending on who you asked –an asshole, arrogant, a conniving son of a bitch – but hell would freeze over before he’d ever lay a hand on his girl. On any girl.

So, yeah, he gets why the guy’s staring at him like he’s the scum of the earth. Doesn’t make it any less of a bitter pill to swallow.

“You planning on ignoring me, then?”

“Trying to,” he mutters, accepting the drink with a short dip of his chin. The whiskey burns on the way down, warming his chest through. Bottom shelf liquor’s too cheap to enjoy for much else. Daishou closes his eyes, “Leave me alone.”

And that stupid, suit-wearing, smug asshole laughs, and pulls out the seat next to him.

Fucking terrific.

Kuroo tuts, motioning at the bartender for a drink of his own, “Aw, c’mon. That’s no way to greet an old friend, is it?” He waits a beat for the reaction that doesn’t come, the mirth in his eyes fading somewhat, then sighs. In a more sober voice, he says, “I heard Yotsuya Motors dropped you. I’m sorry, man.”

The muscle in his jaw tightens, his knuckles turning white. Dropped was a good way of putting it. Closer to the truth than the bullshit story they’d peddled online and to the fans, the one wherein Daishou and the Yotsuya Motor Spirits had amicably reached the decision to part ways before the beginning of the new season.

‘This isn’t a position any of us want to be in, Suguru. You’re a good player, you’ve done well this past season, but you have to consider how this looks for both the team and the V League as a whole. We’re not saying you’ve done anything wrong – of course not – only that the public perception holds weight these days.’

And so it went. He’d sat there, numb, and listened for fifteen minutes while the head coach and upper management explained that him ‘voluntarily’ stepping down was in his best interest. Pretending, all the while, that they were on his side. That they for one second actually believed in his innocence.

The cowards couldn’t even look him in the eye.

None of which makes enduring his old rival’s fake fucking sympathy any easier.

“For what it’s worth,” Kuroo continues, “while you’ve always been a cheating rat bastard, you don’t strike me as the girlfriend murdering kind–”

One minute, his drink is in his hand, the next, he’s hurled it against the wall behind Kuroo’s head, the glass shattering on impact, cheap whiskey sliding down the paint, and Daishou’s on his feet, chest heaving, muscles taut. Hands shaking as they flex and curl around nothing.

For once, Kuroo’s stunned into absolute silence.

The whole bar stills, a deathly quiet falling over the room. The other patrons gawk at him, wide eyed and horrified – a violent unravelling they’re eager to glut themselves on – no noise but the forgotten hum of 80’s rock drifting through the speakers.

No one breathes.

No one moves.

Daishou, shaking, trembling in the cold wake of his own dissipating rage, shudders out a strangled breath. “She’s not–” the words stick in his throat; tight, painful. He forces them out through gritted teeth, “She’s not dead.”

Kuroo, staring back at him with some inscrutable expression, says nothing. Does nothing, aside from slowly lowering his drink – still untouched – down to the bar, as though Daishou hadn’t just pitched a glass tumbler right past his head. At his head, technically.

“Out,” the bartender snaps after a tense beat, jabbing one thick finger towards the door. “Get the fuck out!”

Daishou can barely hear him over the ringing in his ears.

“She’s not dead,” he repeats, his voice hoarse.

Through all of this, it’s the one thought he won’t entertain. No matter how many times he’s hauled back into the police station, or someone recognises him from the news and the dirty looks and whispers start. No matter how much hatred and vitriol and accusations are thrown his way, that thought alone is constant.

You can’t be dead.

“Out!”

Daishou doesn’t need to be told a third time. He spares the raven haired bastard one last look on his way out, sneering, and lets the door sweep shut behind him.

The place was a shithole anyway.

And he can pretend, for a minute or two, that the churning, sick feeling eating away at his insides is the liquor, that the sheen in his eyes is purely due to the icy bite of the wind as he stumbles off in the direction of home.

Too much alcohol flooding his veins, too screwed up to register the prickling on the nape of his neck, or the footsteps that follow after him, down the narrow laneway – a shortcut he’s taken a thousand times.

When the blow comes, striking hard and fast at the back of his head, Daishou drops like a stone.

—

When Daishou was seven years old, he fell out of the tree in his backyard and broke his arm. He also managed to knock himself out – for all of about five seconds.

Long enough to scare the hell out of his parents, anyway. When he woke up, bleary and dazed, his parents hovering over him, Daishou didn’t feel any pain, not immediately. That’d come later, trying not to blubber and wail in the back seat of his dad’s car on the way to the E.R. At first, though, it was just… sort of like being shaken from a deep, deep sleep. Disorientating, more than anything else.

This isn’t like that at all.

Coming to, all Daishou can focus on is the pain in the back of his skull. His eyes are too heavy to lift, his limbs sluggish and sore. From a dry, cotton mouth, a low groan escapes him.

At first, he assumes he’s at home – lying sprawled on the bathroom floor, having hurled up his guts through the night. Wouldn’t be the first time, and considering his sorry state, he’d hazard a guess that it wouldn’t be the last, either.

“Suguru.”

Warmth. A loosening in his chest. Despite the discomfort, the sound of your voice never fails to soothe. In the weeks that you’ve been missing, Daishou’s dreamed of waking up beside you. Of rolling over and cracking an eye open to find you right there, fast asleep and curled up beside him, where you’ve always been.

Where you’ve always belonged.

You stir when his fingertips trace along your jaw, smile in that sleepy way of yours, catching his hand, keeping him there. And even in his dream, when there’s no reason for his chest to tighten, a lump to settle in his throat at the sight of you, it does.

“Suguru, listen to me!” your voice pleads.

There are other dreams, ones where you’re lying on the living room floor surrounded by a pool of blood. There’s a kitchen knife sticking out of your chest, and he’s the one holding it.

Daishou prefers the ones where you’re alive. Safe. Home with him.

“You have to wake up.”

Why? He wakes up and you disappear again. Cheek pressed to the cold bathroom tiles, sick to his stomach and head throbbing.

And you still won’t be there.

“Please.” Your voice sounds… different. Not soft and loving, not the sleep tinged murmur he usually hears. “Please, Suguru, you’ve gotta wake up! Open your eyes for me.”

Daishou doesn’t want to. Pounding head or not, he’d stay in the dark with you – your voice, strained as it is – as long as his subconscious would allow. But that’s not a choice he gets to make, leaden lids slowly prying open, squinting under the influx of light.

The first day or two after you disappeared, Daishou convinced himself that despite all the evidence to the contrary, you weren’t gone gone. An accident, a miscommunication, dead phone, fuck, a fight he didn’t remember picking; he clung to any excuse, any explanation that left room for you walking through the door, sheepishly abashed over all the fuss caused.

He would’ve forgiven you – for anything.

The days passed, the cops came by, dragged him in for questioning, and Daishou started to realise that you weren’t staying with your parents, or a friend. You weren’t pissed at him for something stupid he did or said. You weren’t coming home on your own.

Which left the alternative.

People who disappear like you did; out of the blue, no warning, no trace – they don’t come back unscathed.

If they come back.

Daishou’s had weeks now to sit with that – while he drowns himself in bottom shelf whiskey and cheap beer, wallowing in his own fucking misery, you’re going through an unimaginable hell.

Blinking against the brightness, the room slowly comes into focus, his eyes adjusting, and Daishou’s heart leaps into his throat. He forgets the pain. Forgets that he’s spent weeks – months, now – thinking over every awful eventuality and drinking himself stupid in the process. All he sees is you; sitting up in bed, hair tousled, wearing an old, faded tee two sizes too big, looking the way you do in the dreams he has where you never disappeared.

“Suguru,” you gasp, the noise choked, halfway to a sob, your wobbling smile mired by the sheen of tears brimming behind your lashes.

But Daishou doesn’t see that. Doesn’t register it, not as he scrambles forward, his desperation to touch you, feel you, make sure you’re here and you’re real overriding every other sense–

Only for the cold, metal handcuffs hooked from his wrist to the broken radiator to pull taut, jerking him to a stop.

“… The fuck?” he mutters, eyebrows pinching together in confusion. Experimentally, he tugs on it again.

It doesn’t budge.

Daishou swallows, mouth dry, blood running cold, and as this new, unsettling reality takes root, slowly drags his gaze from his cuffed hand back to the bed. To you, watching him with a devastation that has his heart clenching.

Wrong, wrong, wrong, his subconscious sings, the warning bells tolling, and for the first time since he opened his eyes in this unfamiliar room, Daishou sees you.

The mottled marks of red and purple, fading yellow littered across your exposed collarbone, trailing along your neck. The shadows under bloodshot eyes, the pallor of your skin.

And Daishou remembers.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him through tears, the words spilling out as though you’re confessing some great, unforgivable sin. “It’s my fault, Suguru. It’s all my fault.”

His mouth opens – all that comes out is a strangled rasp of your name, which only serves to make you cry harder, shoulders shaking and a hand clamped over your lips to stifle them.

Daishou’s never wanted to wake up from a nightmare so badly. He’s never wanted so desperately to pinch himself and prove he’s not dreaming.

But at the sound of footsteps approaching, a change sweeps over you. You stiffen, freezing for the briefest of moments before you hastily set about wiping away the evidence of tears, shooting him a pleading, desperate look he doesn’t really understand.

Not until the deadbolt clicks and the door swings open, and Daishou’s confronted with the man who took everything from him.

One by one, the pieces fall into place with horrifying clarity.

The bar, their ‘chance’ meeting, all that goading– ‘For what it’s worth, while you’ve always been a cheating rat bastard, you don’t strike me as the girlfriend murdering kind.’

A small, insane part of him wants to laugh hysterically.

He settles for a baser instinct. Strains against the chain at his wrist, face twisted into a feral snarl, and hisses, “You fucking asshole.”

Kuroo’s eyes crinkle with a grin, but his attention doesn’t remain on Daishou for long. On cue, you shuffle to the edge of the bed, shoulders low and eyes glistening. “I-I’m sorry, Tetsurou,” you murmur, meek and demure.

The fucker laps it right up. Coos as he makes his way over, disregarding his other captive entirely. Two long fingers curl beneath your chin, tilting it upwards. He holds you there, lets his thumb brush along your lower lip. You shiver, and that too he greedily drinks in.

He doubts very much that Kuroo’s forgotten about him, yet the way he stares at you – insatiable, a craving that goes too deep, a yearning too consuming – and you back at him, Daishou may as well have been invisible

A wave of disgust seeps through his bones, tainting his blood, curdling in his stomach – but he doesn’t look away. He can’t bear that, either.

When Kuroo finally decides to close that gap and kiss you, you don’t offer a shred of hesitation. You surrender to it, breath hitching when he catches your lip between his teeth and nips at it–

(The way you used to when he’d do the same.)

–and when he breaks away, a strand of his spit still connecting you, and moves to cup your tear stained cheek, you nuzzle into him, peppering soft little kisses to his palm.

“I know, sweetheart,” he drawls, his voice a touch deeper, clearly affected by how sweetly you’re trying to pacify him. “But actions gotta have consequences. I warned you what’d happen if you brought him up again,” he pauses, and chuckles a little, “and you know I’m too much of a jealous bastard to let that kinda stuff slide.”

Hooded, hazel eyes flicker back to him, pinning him in place. The amusement in Kuroo’s face fades, leaving behind a blistering cold contempt as he regards his old high school rival.

Daishou sneers back.

“You said you loved him.”

“I don’t,” comes the immediate response. Too quick.

Kuroo scoffs. “You still mumble his damn name in your sleep. He the one you’re imagining when I’m buried inside of you, making you cum, sweetheart?”

You’re fucking right it is, you piece of shit, Daishou thinks viciously. The words themselves sit on the tip of his tongue, prideful and sharp, itching to be inflicted. Damn the consequences, he might’ve said it just to see the look on that bastard’s face – except Kuroo isn’t even looking his way. Isn’t paying him the slightest bit of attention, idly toying with a lock of your hair as if you aren’t clutching at him, eyes betraying your panic like a deer in headlights, and Daishou feels sick all over again.

What the fuck is wrong with him?

“N-no, of course not!”

“No?” Kuroo’s brow arches upwards. “You sure ‘bout that?”

There’s no answer you can give that’ll convince him, yet silence proves equally damning. You seem to realise as much, mouth opening and closing as you try and fail to conjure up the right words to diffuse the situation. Kuroo offers you no out, letting you dig your own grave with the shovel he’s given you, taking some kind of sick satisfaction in your distress.

Unable to summon anything more than a choked squeak, you stretch upwards again, a delicate hand on his jaw, and kiss him. The action is desperate and clumsy, borne from panic over passion or affection. Kuroo accepts it eagerly all the same, one arm snaking around your waist to draw you closer – or rather, to keep you from slipping away ‘til he’s had his fill of your lips. “I love you,” you murmur against him. “Only you.”

Though they’re shaky, the words stand stronger than those that came before.

His nose nudges against your own, a look of contentment gracing his features. “Not yet, but we’ll get you there. On your knees, pretty girl.”

Your face crumples in dismay, lips parting only to fall shut with an audible click. As Kuroo’s grip on you loosens, you obediently slide off the bed and onto your knees.

“Arms up.”

Trembling like a leaf and looking faintly ill, you obey, letting him tug your shirt – his shirt, from the looks of it – up and over your head, carelessly tossing it aside. And though you flinch, biting down on your bottom lip, eyes glossy, burning with shame and humiliation, you don’t make a move to cover yourself.

You must know better.

His blood roars, heart thundering violently against his ribs. There’s no pretending he doesn’t see the love bites and bruises spanning your chest, nor the smug, triumphant look in that fucker’s eyes when he notices Daishou looking, his body tensed, shaking with barely contained fury.

Kuroo strokes your cheek, “Keep your eyes on me. Just you ‘n me, yeah?”

You nod. Without prompting you reach for his belt, the clinking of metal and the hiss of Kuroo’s zipper rattling in his skull, the deep, husky groan that slips from his lips when your fingers slide into his pants and curl around his cock, pulling it out.

“Good girl,” he purrs.

Daishou doesn’t want to watch you kiss a trail from Kuroo’s navel down to his cock. He doesn’t want to see the way your thumb swirls along the head of his dick, smearing his pre only for your tongue to follow its path, lapping it right up.

He doesn’t wanna watch you lick your lips, lean in and suck Kuroo’s cock like a well trained slut while he palms at your tits, but between the rage and disgust and the nausea crawling up the back of his throat, Daishou’s frozen in place.

Guided by the not-so-gentle grip he has on the back of your hair, you take more of him into your mouth with every bob of your head, your other hand diligently working away at what doesn’t fit. He allows it for a minute or two, watching you try your best to take all of him with a hiss of pleasure.

Eventually, though, greed wins out. Kuroo’s hips cant forward, bucking past your lips to force his cock deeper, grazing the back of your throat. Eyes widening, you make a surprised noise and try to pull back, allow yourself a little breathing room to set a pace you're comfortable with, but Kuroo’s having none of it. He growls once in warning, grip tightening around your hair, holding you in place, and begins to fuck your face in earnest.

“That’s my good – little – whore,” he grunts, each word punched out with another cruel thrust of his hips.

The sounds of you gagging on the dick in your mouth, your choked little whines and whimpers burn through Daishou like wildfire, igniting something deep. A faint stirring in his gut he wishes, more than anything, he could smother entirely.

He doesn’t look away.

It’s only when the lack of oxygen becomes too much and you claw at Kuroo’s thighs, tears streaming down your face that he finally relents, letting you pop off his dick with a heaving gasp. With nothing else to tether you, you collapse against his legs, boneless and panting, your eyes fluttering shut.

They crack open, however, looking up when his hand comes to a rest on the crown of your head, “Say it again. I want to hear it.”

The demand takes a moment to process, but you swallow and tell him what he wants to hear. “I love you, Tetsu. More than anyone.”

He grins, lazily stroking your hair, “I know, sweetheart. Now c’mon, up on the bed. I’ve been been dreaming of your perfect little pussy all day, wanna fuck you properly.”

—

Hours pass. Half a day, a day. Maybe longer. There’s no light down here, no windows to track the path of the sun, the shadows creeping across the floor, but he can feel the endless drag of seconds and minutes ticking like a slow suffocation.

After fucking you to the edge of exhaustion, Kuroo had carried you out, cradled to his chest like something precious, and left him alone in the dark.

Left Daishou to scream and rage and cry like a fucking baby. It doesn’t help any. His bones and muscles ache, the skin of his wrist rubbed raw trying to move to a position that doesn’t scream with discomfort, the cold, unforgiving floor beneath him offering no relief. Mere feet away lies the bed Kuroo fucked you on, with its pillows and blankets, soft, plush mattress.

With his eyes adjusting to the complete lack of light, Daishou can only make out a vague shape in the darkness. In some kind of fucked up way, he decides it’s a blessing in disguise.

Being able to see the bed’s another cruelty, the promise of comfort and warmth when he’s shivering and cold and lying in his own filth, placed just out of reach. And while the thought of lying in the sheets he’d fucked you in (raped you in, a voice reminds him) makes his stomach turn, he’s not so sure that given the chance, he wouldn’t shove those thoughts aside for a soft reprieve and a few hours of rest.

Some messed up part of him wonders if the pillows and sheets still smell like you.

So no, it’s a good thing he can’t really see the bed, or the door, or much of anything, really.

Besides, it isn’t the hunger pangs or the lack of sleep or the dull, throbbing pain from his joints that bother him the most, it’s the feeling of inhaling razor blades doused in fire he’s subjected to with every shallow, rattling breath. The last taste of water he’d had… would’ve been before the bar, however long ago that was. Too long. More than a warm bed, more than food or freedom from the cuff around his wrist, Daishou thinks he’d just about kill for a single sip of water to wet his throat.

More than likely, that’s the whole fucking point.

Left to rot in the darkness, Daishou has plenty of time on his hands to think, musing over the bed in this little windowless room, and the other door he suspects must lead to a bathroom. That asshole went to some effort in getting him here, he’ll admit, but he doubts all this was solely for his benefit.

You were here when he came to; obviously he’d kept you down here, the question was for how long? Did he keep you chained up and hungry in the dark when you wouldn’t play nice? The way you’d melted for him, the affection, the goddamn look in your eyes when you’d said that bastard’s fucking name–

The fear that’d shone there when you’d said his.

Daishou knows from the depths of whatever’s left of him, that he could never, ever hate you. If he starves to death alone down here, if you’re the one to plunge a dagger into his heart yourself, if you forget all about him and buy into the delusional fucking nightmare that psychotic prick keeps peddling, he’d love you. That much is immutable.

But hatred’s too soft a word for the thorn riddled vines that sprout and twist inside of him, ripping away at muscle and flesh, choking his organs, his veins, everything that he is – because of Kuroo.

When he hears those footsteps again, the clicking of the altogether unnecessary locks, Daishou can’t help the wide grin that cracks at his face. “Was wonderin’ when you’d come back down to gloat,” he croaks, manages a laugh too, though it feels like dragging his vocal cords over sandpaper.

Having flicked the light switch on (half blinding Daishou in the process) Kuroo fixes him with a sardonic smirk. “Missing me already?”

“Hate waiting around.”

“Ah well, what can I say? I had better things to do.” His smirk broadens, a cruel glint under too bright fluorescent light as he plops himself down on the bed Daishou’s been doing his utmost to ignore and stretches out, rolling his shoulder and neck. “Prettier things.”

A stab of something dark and ugly wrenches between his ribs.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he spits through cracked, dry lips, and before he can think better of it, adds, “Mommy didn’t love you enough, Kuroo? That what this is?”

Kuroo doesn’t snap the way he expects him to. He doesn’t lash out like he would’ve when they were hot headed teenagers desperate to grind the other into the dirt and lord it over them. The muscle in his jaw jumps and his eyes narrow, sharpen – but his expression is quick to smooth over. Water off a duck’s back. He lets out an amused snort, rising from the bed.

“Y’know, as entertaining as it was watching you self-destruct, losing your volleyball career, your fans, friends, all those nights you spent searching for her at the bottom of a bottle – and it was entertaining, believe me – I think I like this better.”

A short, sharp burst of pain. Warm copper spills over his tongue.

“You’re not gonna survive this. Even you’re smart enough to have realised that much.” He crouches down low, at eye-level, just out of reach, appraising him with a tilted head – as though Daishou’s some whimpering puppy at the pound.

Daishou’s not a fucking puppy.

“Most likely it’ll be the dehydration that kills you first,” Kuroo continues. “That only takes a few days, but with water, you could probably make it two, three weeks before your body starves itself to death – plenty of time for your muscles to begin to atrophy, which’ll be painful as hell, not to mention how bad the isolation’s gonna fuck you up. And who knows, maybe I’ll be nice and bring you something to drink every now and then, throw you some scraps from dinner. I might even let you out of those cuffs for an hour or two, so you can walk around down here, stretch those legs of yours before they completely shrivel up… But you won’t see her again, ever.”

Scowling and hateful, Daishou spits at Kuroo and bares bloody teeth.

Kuroo wants to treat him like a dog, fine – but wolves gnaw through flesh and bone to free themselves from hunting traps, and he ain’t about to just keel over with a whimper and make this easy for him.

“Go fuck yourself.”

Tension crackles through the air like an oncoming storm.

Daishou falls back against the radiator, breathing heavy and Kuroo wipes at his cheek with the pad of his thumb and huffs out a dry laugh, eyeing the bloody digit. Looking back at Daishou, he stands. “You look thirsty, I’ll go get you some water. Can’t have you croaking on us just yet.”

He’ll bite his fucking throat out if he has to.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere kuroo x reader #yandere kuroo #yandere kuroo tetsurous x reader #yandere kuroo tetsurou #tw: dubcon

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minhosbxtch · 3 months

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Shadows and Silence

Azriel x reader

Yall voted Azriel so here we go

Warnings: violence, mentions of SA, mentions of physical abuse, language

It'd been 400 years since you last spoke. 400 years since a single word had been uttered from your mouth. 400 years since your mother had been executed. 400 years since your tongue had been cut off.

Beron, being the dick that he was, had decided your mother was desirable and he wanted her. And Beron being the dick that he was took her.

Fast forward 9 months and you were born. Your mother, disgusted for how she came to be pregnant pretty much ignored you. Until you reached the age of 6.

On your sixth birthday your mother decided that enough was enough. She started to groom you into the perfect wife. To be pretty, proper, and polite. She also introduced you to the court, where people came to notice your unusual likeness to Beron.

Beron who also heard these rumors faintly remembered what he'd done to your mother, so it was possible you might be his.

So one day when you were roughly 14 he brought you and your mother to have dinner with him. Your mother, thinking he might marry you off to his oldest son, Eris, who she knew was your half-brother, but the power she would gain from that? The reputation?

So she went and dragged you with her.

Turns out it was not that at all.

No not in the slightest. Once you both had arrived, guards had instantly seized you both. Killing your mother almost immediately, Beron, instead of killing you, had cut your tongue out so you could not tell. He wasn't aware you could write though. But it didn't matter. What would being related to him change?

Eris was there though. He knew everything. What Beron did to your mother and that you were his half-sister. He hid behind a column as Beron and the guards left you crying and bleeding out on the clean, polished floors.

After a minute you passed out from the blood loss and that's when Eris made his move. He knew you would most certainly lash out or hurt yourself more if he approached you like this, so he had waited until you were unaware.

Picking you up and gently examining you're mouth he saw that one of the soldiers perhaps took pity on you and cauterized your tongue.

So he took you to the only place he could, his mother's.

His mother, had instantly sent for healers as he explained what he knew. He told her that she had no other family and no place to go. His mother pursed her lips before coming to the conclusion that the only solution was to make her a personal maid. That way she could keep her close and mostly protected from Beron.

All of this she had told you after you had woke up, a day later.

She had become a true mother in your eyes. And to her, you were the daughter she never had. You had also been close with Eris. Even though you two were only half-siblings you were both closer than with any other sibling, perhaps Lucien was a close second though.

Usually the Lady of Autumn gave you the day off today so you could relax and try to forget what happened today, despite your protests. But today there was an important meeting including all of the High Lords. She wanted to take you along since she was Eris' support, she wanted you to be her support.

She gave you an orangey-red long sleeve gown to wear. You would play no role. All you had to do was stand behind your Lady and say nothing.

So you did.

You paid no attention to what was currently going on in the room, choosing to admire the beautiful architecture of the Day Court palace.

Suddenly the talking in the room ceased and all eyes turned to you. Your eyes met those of amber sitting across from from you, studying, calculating.

"She's a mute," Beron sneered, dragging your attention to him, "good for nothing except her silence."

High Lord Rhysand tilted his head, eyes narrowing and smirking at you, "She is of Night Court descent."

"No she's Autumn through and through," said the High Lord of Autumn. "She might be unworthy scum, but not that much."

You looked at the ground before feeling a gentle caress in your mind, causing your head to snap up meeting the High Lord of Night's gaze yet again.

Is he telling the truth? Rhysand spoke in her mind.

I- I don't know. My mother's been dead for over 400 years. She might've been she didn't look like she was from Autumn. You thought replying to his question.

At a slight tilt of his head you nodded and gave your permission for him to search your memories.

It was a strange sensation, him rifling through your memories. He saw each and last one of them. From that one night, taking care of the Lady after a nasty argument with Beron, and times where Eris was just as vulnerable as you were.

His presence jolted as he saw your mother. A flash of recognition.

You know her? You thought in surprise.

Yes. I do know her. His voice was shaky, almost horrified.

But you didn't care. You wanted answers. Answers you waited 400 years for.

So? Can you tell me about her? Anything? You pleaded. You didn't care what you just needed something, anything, any scrap of information. To prove that at least one of your parents were even slightly a good person.

The High Lord hesitated but relented, sensing her thoughts. She... Your mother's name is Mithrianyus Arwel. She was a resident of Hewn City and she... if Keir had a women that he'd trust to be his right-hand, it would have been her. She was incredibly brutal and had an old view of how young females should be treated, that their happiness did not matter. She thought the only use for them was to gain political power.

While my sister and mother were alive, she took it upon herself to try to corrupt her, but my father decided enough was enough. He'd been looking for a good excuse to kick her out. She never liked my mother. Thought she was above her. That my mother was Illyrian scum. Not worthy of even looking at the High Lord, much less his mate.

At his words your heart sank. Even as you had prepared yourself for the worst, it still hurt. You had allowed a kernel of hope to blossom in your chest, but before it could unfurl it had been squashed.

You felt the High Lord leave your mind as he suddenly announced to the room, "Y/N's mother hailed from the Night Court and unless her father would like to claim her then she belongs in the Night Court," he said with a pointed glance at Beron.

No words were spoken until Rhysand beckoned you over to his side. As you rose Beron suddenly decided to speak up. Your heart skipped a beat thinking he would claim you but instead he said, "Once you realize all she's good for is keeping her mouth shut and whoring around then you'll still have to keep her."

You just kept your head down and kept walking, ignoring the stares you could feel prickling against your skin. You stopped when a loud snarl sounded in front of her, from the Night Court's area.

You looked up to see the same amber-eyed male snarling at Beron, eyes blazing. Your eyes widened as black tendrils snaked around his form. Other then his eyes, you hadn't really looked at him, thinking he would be offended that such scum like you was even looking your way.

But now that you're paying attention, you noticed he is easily the most handsome Fae you had ever seen, including everyone in the room. His eyes were like drops of honey which had quickly hardened as his anger sparked. He was muscular but slim and his face- Mother his goddamn pretty face. He was darkly handsome, ethereal even. Like an angel of death. His leathery wings only added to the factor, in sharp contrast to his tan, muscular skin.

His eyes met yours again and lightened, despite his face not softening, his eyes welcomed you. Like a unknown familiarness.

As you reached their side High Lord Rhysand beckoned you to a new chair that wasn't there earlier, next to a different male.

He shared similar characters, but was broader and more muscular. He also had soft eyes. Not pitying, you hated the look of pity people gave you. Taking you off guard, he gave you a broad welcoming smile. You were shocked but gave a small, uncomfortable smile back.

Instead of looking up and accidently meeting Beron's eyes, you looked down and fiddled at your hands. Anything to not seem noticeable.

When the kind male next to you gave your shoulder you finally looked up to see the Autumn Court gone.

At your sigh of relief he let out a quiet chuckle and said, "Yeah I never liked them either. I'm Cassian", nodding to you.

You motioned to Cassian and he seemed to get the message.

"Yes. I know you can't talk, but I figured I'd introduce myself to you so you had at least one friendly face that you knew," he said with a large smile.

Did he always smile this much?

You looked around the Night Court section, scanning, seeing if you recognized anyone else when you met eyes with that male for the third time.

He didn't say anything but gave you a nod and a slight smile.

Cassian saw your roam around his court.

He leant down next to your ear so only you could hear and said, "The one your currently staring at is Azriel. Hey, there's no problem staring at him. I find myself doing that all the time. What? Hey he's hot!" Cassian protested as you elbowed him in the side.

At your look he cleared his throat and continued, "Anyway you already know Rhys, that's Mor and that's Feyre as you probably know. There's gonna be more but I'll introduce you to them when we get back."

Back where? You didn't care.

You decided then that you liked Cassian.

Very much.

-'~{~}~'-

The meeting hadn't gone on for much longer. After Beron left a lot of the tension had vanished.

Well that was until Tamlin showed up, made a shit load of dirty comments about Feyre, given you a look that had you shrinking in on yourself and Cassian and Azriel bristling.

With nobody coming to the High Lady's defense you wished you could speak. You didn't even know her but Mother he needed to chill.

After another comment finally Azriel said, his voice dangerous, "Be careful how you speak about my High Lady."

Holy Mother. As if he wasn't sexy enough.

Cassian nudged you and whispered in your ear, "You're gawking." He quickly snapped his head around to act like it never happened. As you glared harshly at the side of his face you could swear you could see the slight outline of a smile on his face, as if he was trying not to laugh.

After Tamlin's little tantrum Rhysand decided he was done and it was time to go.

To go back to wherever Cassian explained they had to winnow and then left for Mor to take him.

She scowled.

He left her.

Maybe she didn't like Cassian as much as she thought.

You didn't know what to do so you just awkwardly stood there until Azriel approached you.

He smiled softly and said, "Would you like me to take you? Mor is taking Cassian because he can't winnow."

You scrunched your brows in confusion. How could Azriel winnow but not Cassian?

At your confused look he cleared his throat at said, "I can't winnow but I can do something similar. I can use my shadows to transfer me places. If it makes you uncomfortable I can let them know and you could switch?" Azriel offered.

You shook your head. You were slightly nervous but didn't want to be a burden and besides, Azriel seemed kind and like he didn't mean harm, at least currently.

He slowly extended a scarred hand out for you to grab, a stray shadow circled his wrist, also curling towards you as if it couldn't help it. You hesitantly reached for it.

His hand was warm, but not unpleasant. Here and there you could feel cool brushes of the shadows. You could feel the ridges of his scars, but they didn't make you uncomfortable. You had some just like that from Beron.

"Ready?" Azriel spoke quietly. He seemed like a quiet person. It was nice. He was quiet but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence.

You nodded and gasped as shadows wrapped around you and Azriel. Turning your head towards him you saw he had a smile on his face at your awe.

In a blink your vision was completely swallowed by the black and your only tether was Azriel's hand which you squeezed tightly as if he was your lifeline.

Suddenly your vision cleared and you were standing on a gorgeous balcony that overlooked a sprawling city next to a river below.

Barely seconds later, Feyre, Mor, Rhysand, and Cassian was also standing right in front of you.

You knew you were still holding Azriel's hand but you didn't want to let go. He seemed to sense as much and thankfully, also didn't let go even as Cassian came over smirking at their conjoined hands.

Azriel quickly followed Feyre into the house, away from Cassian so you did too, not wanting to hear his teasing or let Azriel go.

Feyre lead the tour which started in the living rooms, kitchen, eating areas, and finally the bedrooms.

The entire time Azriel's hand was in your grasp. Occasionally, he would squeeze your hand, as if checking in. Each time your heart skipped a beat as you squeezed back. At first you were worried you were bothering him, that he had more important things to do but as you went through the tour he seemed content, even stopping Feyre to tell you something she left out.

At the very end Feyre led you up the stairs to a long hallway, pointing out everyone's bedrooms as she went.

She stopped at the second-to-last door on the left and motioned to the door.

"Here's where you'll be staying. All of your clothes and things are still in the Autumn Court so we can go shopping whenever you would like. In the meantime you can borrow stuff from Mor and I," she said with another smile.

You didn't bother to try to tell the High Lady that you had nothing there that was worth saving anyway.

No servant did.

For the first time since you arrived, you let go of Azriel's hand to open the door. Was that just your imagination or did he also look disappointed.

As you opened the door you were in awe of the large room furnished with a ginormous bed in the corner. There were armchairs, tables, and couches tastefully placed around the room. In the other corner there was a large fireplace.

You probably wouldn't use that since fire would probably be too soon.

Across from the bed, there was the door to a large bathroom. Inside there were shelves filled with different shampoos, towels, conditioners, and washes. Across from the selves there was a large sink with a mirror overtop of it. Taking up almost half of the large bathroom, there was a bathtub, if you could call it that. It was practically a pool for how large it was and the fact that it was built into the floor.

You turned around to thank Feyre but she was gone. The only one there was Azriel who watched her reaction, grinning.

He cleared his throat offered you a blank notebook and pencil. "This is just if you want to talk to someone y'know?"

You tilted your head at his nervousness. The infamous, terrifying Shadowsinger, scared of you?

You took the notebook out of his hands and wrote a simple note:

Thank you.

He nodded and started to turn away before turning back and saying, "Can you fight? I know it's a stupid question..." Azriel's voice trailed off as you wrote:

A little. Eris taught me in case there was any males that he couldn't protect me from.

"You were close with Eris? From what I've gathered about him he doesn't care about anything," he asked, genuine curiosity on his face.

We were close. He's the one who saved me from bleeding out and took me to his mother. He also protected me from various males that tried to have their way with me.

Despite Azriel's deep hatred of Eris, he respected him slightly for how he protected his mother and you. Perhaps there was a half-decent male in there, but a coward.

"Here you're welcome to get some sleep and if you need anything just ask the House," Azriel said while shutting the door, "I'll have Mor or Feyre bring clothes."

Honestly the only thing you wanted to do was take a bath. You needed to wash off the dirt and the stink of the day.

As you walked in the bathroom, you noticed the bathtub was completely filled and steaming. You slid off you're clothes and dipped a foot in the water.

It was too hot. It reminded you of fire. Beron's fire. The fire that had burned you everytime you were too slow in bringing something in his presense.

You couldn't bathe in that water. Maybe if you waited, the water would cool off.

So you waited, and waited.

When there was a knock at your door you scrambled to your feet and quickly threw on your dress from the Autumn Court.

Feyre was standing behind the door a bunch of clothes piled in her hands. She frowned when she saw you hadn't taken a bath yet.

"Were you waiting for me to bring other clothes or what," she said gesturing to the open bathroom door.

You grabbed the notepad and wrote:

The water is too hot. I tried to wait for it to cool down but it didn't. I don't like hot things.

At your note Feyre's face softened. "I can cool it off for you," she offered, "How would you like it?"

Almost cold. Room temperture?

Your baths, (if you could call them that), that you had as a maid had just been taking a quick dip in frozen water with several other girls.

Feyre nodded and strode to the bathroom where she knelt next to the bathtub and waved her hand over the water.

"Is this better?"

You dipped a foot in. Gods, yes that was better. It wasn't cold enough for you to shiver in but it was cool. Sort of like a lake on a warm day.

You nodded.

"Good. There are clothes on the bed. There's undergarments, dress, pants, shirts, shoes, socks, and nightgowns. If there's anything else you need just come find me or someone. Oh, and if you don't want to write to me just let down your mental shields and we can talk mind-to-mind," she said with a smile.

You let your mental shields down and you could feel the High Lady's presence in your mind.

Do you perhaps have an extra satchel or small bag. Azriel gave me a notebook and I wish to carry it with me. You thought trying to keep thoughts of the handsome male out of your mind.

Of course, I can have it ready by tonight at dinner. She spoke, tinged with amusement as she walked out, closing the door behind her.

You built your mental walls up and took your clothes off before getting into the bathtub. You saw your scars and burn marks in the mirror. Your bathrooms didn't have mirrors. Only the people you served and you kept yourself completely covered for those encounters.

Mother it'd been so long since you could relax and the bath did just that. Once you finished washing, you sat on one of the steps and allowed yourself to melt against the water.

You forced yourself to get out to not fall asleep and ignored the mirror as you strode past.

You sorted through the pile of clothes on the bed. There was everything from dresses that were practically lingerie to a set of Illyrian leathers. As you peered closer to the leathers you saw a note saying:

I saw these weren't being used and figured you should have them if you wanted to train. If you want to, just find me, Cassian, or Rhys and tell us. -Azriel

You figured training would be a good thing to do to build muscle and also to defend yourself.

You pushed thoughts of that aside and dressed in a pair of leggings and a simple sweater and opened the door to get dinner with your notepad.

Tinkling laughter echoed from the staircase that led to the dining room. You walked down the stairs, feet silent and came to at the entrance to the dining room.

No one noticed you there, nor heard your feet from what you could tell.

Suddenly a presence appeared next to you and you turned to see Azriel beckoning you to sit in the other open spot.

It was between Cassian and Feyre. You thanked the Mother that you didn't have to sit in the other which was between two unfamiliar females.

One had a short black hair and silver eyes and the other looked like Feyre, but a much more delicate version.

There was another women standing in the doorway. Sharp would be the best word to describe her. Sharp cheekbones, sharp eyes.

Shit. Her sharp eyes snatched to you but you stared right back even as she approached you.

"I haven't seen you before. Are you also a member of their perfect little family?" Mother even her voice was sharp.

You snorted and wrote on your notepad.

Mother I hope not.

She smirked and stuck her hand out, a human gesture. "I'm Nesta."

Ah the High Lady's sister. So the soft one must be Elain.

You shook her hand and wrote your name.

"You're new I haven't met you before," she said eyeing you.

They claimed me from the Autumn Court.

"So you're the one they were talking about. They were discussing if you could be trusted. Rhysand said he looked into your mind and didn't see anything bad so they're keeping you I guess. But why can't you talk?"

Instead of writing anything down, you opened your mouth and showed her the absence of your tongue. Instead of the pitying look most people gave you, her gaze hardened, angry.

"Just another reason to murder Beron I suppose," she said threateningly.

You just wrote:

Please do. And do it where I can watch. Or let me have a turn.

She laughed at that, a cruel, harsh sound that had everyone pausing their conversations.

You grinned. You liked Nesta and her sharp tongue.

Where are you going to sit? You wrote.

Whatever happiness lingered in her face vanished at the question. "I'm not going to."

Then I'm not either.

That was the start of your friendship with Nesta. On the days you trained she would sit and watch you. You would both sit in the library and read each others books. She introduced you to her world of smut, smut, and more smut. Honestly you didn't complain one bit. I mean how could you?

Your friendship with Cassian also progressed. Sometimes he would train you, sometimes Azriel would. He also gave you books. They were a lot less interesting than Nesta's but you read them.

He was there for every step of your recovery. I mean so was Nesta but she was also trying to recover and didn't express her emotions as much as Cassian did. Honestly the tension between those two... You wished they would shut up and get together at this point.

Mor you didn't really click with. I mean she was always nice but her personality was overwhelming sometimes. She loved physical affection. You had nothing against that but you didn't like people touching you as much as she does with people.

Feyre on the other hand understood you more then she let on. She always knew when you were struggling and offered a hand. She also knew you couldn't go on extravagant spending sprees like Mor did, especially when it wasn't your money. She was content just enjoying your company without having conversations, and when you did it was nice not having to write, since she spoke in your mind.

Rhysand you didn't really have a relationship with. He was your High Lord and was always busy, so you two didn't spend much time one-on-one. And whenever you did and it was silent, the silence was uncomfortable. He knew everything about you, had seen it in your head, (with your permission of course), but it made you slightly nervous that you were so vulnerable to someone that powerful.

But Azriel, he knew everything. That was because you trusted him. He had told you everything about his past, so you told him about yours. You held each other in the early hours of dawn due to the nightmares you each had. There so far, was no mating bond with each other but you felt like you didn't need one. You two were close enough that you would tell each other anything. You liked this feeling, completely bare to someone else that was also completely bare. Physically and mentally.

You had shown each other your scars. He knew the feeling of the burns, the light prickle that turned into an inferno. Like you needed to scratch the skin off. His room was always cool for that precise reason. When you woke up screaming in the night, he was there to hold you, his shadows caressing your bare skin. He knew of the males that hurt you, he fought all his instincts to not go off and find them to tear them apart. No, he swore you could have that chance.

He hadn't minded kissing you even without your tongue. It took some getting used to be he didn't care. Didn't care that you couldn't talk. He bought you notebook after notebook so you could talk to him. There were separate ones that only stayed in his room, completely filled up that he always took when he went on missions, to read over when he wasn't with you.

Once your relationship became public, he doted on you every chance he got. Taking you to shops, buying you anything your eye snagged on, or just holding you during meetings with the Inner Circle.

At first he knew you weren't super comfortable with touch, so he made it his mission to help you. At first it started with small touches, light kisses, and holding hands. Then it went to having an arm around your shoulders or waist. Once you became comfortable, he held you publicly or had a hand on your thigh.

You never were unfomfortable with him no matter who else you were with. He made you feel safe. How could you? He was home.

Your home.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fluff

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ryuv1i · 2 months

Text

Frigid♔Magnanimity꧂

Eustass Kid x Princess!Reader

TW for this chapter: Mentions of death, slight gore, mention of decapitation

Chapter 1: Evillious Business

The wind felt cold yet it was a warm spring day…your eyes fell upon the face of your mother…the Queen, she was knelled on the execution platform. Right as she was about to be blindfolded your eyes met, her gaze filled with love for the sunshine of her life, you, Y/N, her sweet daughter…as she was blinded her hands met in a clasp…the executioner raised his blade and as the blade was about to hit your mothers neck your maid forced your face against her dress to protect you from seeing the blood pour from your mothers neck as she was executed for being accused of adultery which was farthest from the truth.

twelve years passed from the death of your mother, you aged into a beautiful 18 year old girl, you sat at your vanity, your maids preparing your hair and make up as you’ve been summoned by the kind. Your father. You were lead to the throne room where you met your father and step-mother. You did a curtsy as a sign of respect and joined your fathers side…the new queen lady Elizabeth put a comforting hand on your shoulder, your father married her not even 3 days after your mothers executing..yet she was caring and loving, you actually cared for her and viewed her as your second mother, yet you couldn’t care less of what happened to your father. A guard made its way closer to the throne, behind him three more guards leading an chained prisoner towards the king. “Sire, good evening and I sincerely apologise if I’ve disturbed your grace. We have caught the pirate Captain Eustass Kid your highness. As you ordered.” The first guard said as he stepped to the side to reveal the now kneeled captured pirate. The tyrant sat on his throne stared at the captain as if he was scum. “So you’re the so called feared Captain I’ve heard about? What makes you think you can step foot into my kingdom?!” The king raised his voice at the scarred and beat man. He was covered in scars and bruises, he had an open wound against his chest and his mouth was dripping blood, he was wearing black pants with yellow deformed dots and dark velvet boots, some cracked goggles against his forehead keeping some hair from his amber eyes. You felt a weird sensation in your chest as your eyes laid upon him, you reached your hand to touch your chest “Did my heart just skip a beat…?” You whispered to yourself in your head as you felt your heart beat weird…you’ve always been a kind soul as your birth mother taught you forgiveness and kindness…you turned to the king. “Father, what crimes did he commit to be treated this harshly?” You asked worriedly as you laid your eyes against the harsh condition of the man.. “He’s stepped foot on my land. This filthy scum.” The father said with a rough growl in his neck. He was innocent?! “He’s done nothing wrong father! How can you treat him this way?!” You sat up from your seat and said to your father. Who slammed his fist into the armrest of his dark wooden throne. “DONT RAISE YOUR VOICE AT ME GIRL! HOW DARE YOU PROTECT SUCH A MAN!! GET OUT OF MY SIGHT THIS SECOND. AND I DONT WANT TO HEAR ANOTHER WORD OF THIS.” He raised from his seat too and scolded you. “But!——“ “I SAID LEAVE MY SIGHT. GO BACK TO YOUR CHAMBERS.” You balled your fists but had no choice but obey…you turned to leave meeting eyes with the prisoner before leaving towards your room…

As you walked down the vast corridor you saw two servants reading the newspaper..curiosity killed the cat and you asked them for it. You ran towards your room and closed the door behind you…you skimmed through the paper till you saw a part about this ‘Eustass Kid’ you read about what he’s done and how many he conquered which left you amazed…imagining all the adventures he went on..he lived so much whilst you barely were allowed out the palace grounds…what you’d do to have even an taste of such freedom. As you were reading two papers fell from within the pages…bounties…you picked them up and it was Eustass’ face and the second was a masked man…the numbers were outrageously high. This much for two men?! Later that evening as you were getting ready for bed your Step mother walked in. She walked up to you as you were sitting at your vanity…she took the brush off the table and started brushing your hair. “I understand you feel this isn’t right, but you know better then to go against your father word.” She said as she took your chin and gently made you face her. “Promise me you won’t do something stupid…I don’t want you ending in the same fate as your mother my dear. From how I’ve known him I see him capable of doing such thing…you’re not a prince which means you don’t matter so much to your father. Yet you mean much to me. I don’t want to lose you, you’re the sweetest girl I’ve ever laid my eyes on and I love you from the deepest point in my heart, so promise me. You wont do something stupid.” You sighed and lowered your gaze… “I promise…” you muttered loud enough for her to hear. She let out a breath of relief and kissed your forehead. “Thank you, now go to sleep, have sweet dreams my dear.” She said as she walked out of your room leaving the air and your thoughts to fill the quiet room…you laid in your bed and stared at the ceiling of your canopy bed the soft curtains of your bed waving slightly in the breeze from your open window…you tried to fall asleep but the image and thought of that scarred man woke you up again with a flush to your cheeks. What was so special about him?! Was it pity you felt for him? You tried to fall asleep again and again but the thought of that man suffering in the dungeons kept you awake…you wouldn’t have really cared if the person had committed a crime but he was captured for simply setting foot on the grounds of your kingdom… “Father doesn’t have any alliances with the world government nor has he ever cared if pirates were in our city as long as they didn’t cause trouble…what’s the thing with this ‘Eustass Kid’…?” You wondered to yourself…you turned on your side and looked at the portrait of you and your mother that sat on your wall…You sat up from your bed and put on your slippers before peeking out of your room..no one was down the corridor…you thought for a second then left your room. From how you knew your father you would’ve known he was most likely torturing that man and starving him…you had to do something this wasn’t right. The air was way more chilly and the whole palace looked Erie all empty and quiet…you walked through the palace till you made it to the door to the dungeons, you could feel the cold air from under the door which made your skin crawl…you looked up through the blurry window of the door and saw no one so you went in…the air got you shivering so you immediately regretted the idea and left the next second. You wanted to go check on him but the cold was too much for your skin…was your dad really holding human beings in cells and corridors that were freezing…?! As you were thinking of something you heard your dad walking towards the stairs leading to the dungeons door. You looked around and hid behind some crates and waited for them to pass…you heard as the door opened and closed with a lock…you got up and ran back to your room almost being caught by guards on your way…Your father was surely down there to torture the pirate…you wanted to hear his stories of his adventures…yet you knew your father was never going to let you down there…

you tried to sleep again, this time you managed to snooze off…but you were awoken only 1 hour later…you heard steps down the corridor and passing your room…you got out of bed and peeked out your door and saw your father walking back to his room…

Eustass Kid was breathing heavily in his cell, he was leaning against the wall and holding onto a new open wound on shoulder that bastard of a king just made…blood was spilling out quickly and he started feeling dizzy…”fuck….” He said breathily. He stared around the cell…there wasn’t much…only a bed with some ripped sheets on…he reached for them and ripped a part of it tying it around his wound to stop the bleeding…he sighed and dropped against the mattress almost immediately blacking out…he was awoken an hour later and he saw a plate of food near his bed…the plate seemed fancy and the food was actually fresh and clean…he got up and looked down the corridor of cells to look for who left this here… he looked at it for a second and didn’t waste another one before eating everything on it…he was starving and lightheaded…it didn’t make him full as he was a beast of a man but it was as good as it could get in his situation…after finishing everything he picked the empty plate and threw it through the gaps of the bars right at the wall in front of him breaking it into pieces…he sighed before dropping down onto the thin mattress again and falling asleep again.

the next morning you were awoken at dawn and your ladies in waiting got right to taking care of your hair and gown for the day…as you passed your fathers door you heard from inside yelling. “FIND WHOEVER LEFT THAT PRICK FOOD AND BRING THEM TO ME THIS INSTANT.” You heard your father tell at someone…as you continued walking a smirk could be seen on your lips…

Authors note: I tried my best to make the writing more fancy. My tik tok fyp is currently filled with The Tudors so that gave me some inspiration for this. If the writing seems odd I tried my best y’all ….but my autocorrect and Google weren’t really coming in handy 😔😔 thank you for reading and I’ll try my best to post the second chapter soon.

also here’s a bit of a guide. for the colouring and dialogue. The king has orange, The Queen (ur step mother and biological mother) has purple, you are pink, Kid is red and Killer (who will appear in a future chapter) is blue. Some stuff will be changed if I introduce more of the kid pirates but I’ll announce you so when we get to that. Hope you enjoyed and bye. <3

#eustass kid #eustass x reader #eustasscaptainkid #one piece #one piece eustass #eustass captain kidd #eustass kid x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece eustass kid #royalty #princess aesthetic

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luxthestrange · 1 year

Text

RoR Incorrect quotes#107 Secret Past?

DP Y/n: I love this song! *poorly singing along with the song in their playlist* ♫ You were a spicy little- uh- Demon with the- uh- bleach blonde haaaair! ♫

Brunhilde is shown sitting in the passenger seat next to Blitzo, looking mildly annoyed at his singing, Goll covers her ears in the back while Kojiro follows smiles

DP Y/n: ♫ Fieeendin' for that semen when I caught your stare… ♫

DP Y/n: ♫ Thooought it might be love, but you went--♫

When They turn the corner to the stairs a figure bumps into them making You fall down a couple of steps before grabbing the pole to help you stand up

DP Y/n: Oh, shit! Fu-

You turn off the playlist and glare at the person who walked away from you and your group

DP Y/n: Listen up, you unoriginal blonde cum dump! You have three goddamn seconds to apologize!

The Person turns around You lower your scream, shocked

DP Y/n: Oh, shit! Poseidon!...

Poseidon: Y/n...

DP Y/n: I should have known you’d be here...I could smell fish for miles, which is odd~... Because I believe the nearest ocean is…*Walking up the stairs again but missing the last step*

You fall and faceplant onto the ground before standing up

Poseidon*Sighs and rolls his eyes at your antics*...

DP Y/n:…three Rings DOWN!

Poseidon: And I should have known you’d be here when I heard the Amber Alerts

DP Y/n: Oh, yeah? I'm surprised they let your fat ass outta rehab, I can see you’re still a Narcissist God-complex Stuck-up whore, clutching onto that trident like it's the last cock in Olympus!

DP Y/n*angrily steps in front of Poseidon* Why are you here?! This is the only place far away from the ocean!? So take your salty ass somewhere else!

Poseidon: Actually, scum my name is on the list

Poseidon: I’m doing my job for one of the infinitely more successful side in this arena...

Brunhilde*watching from the side in shock* No way…

shoulder there be part 2?~

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dogtoling · 4 months

Note

amber!!! 🧠 ✂️ ❤️

EXCELLENT TASTE

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC?

She's honestly such an all-rounder too but mostly she's just VERY FUN. both to draw and to just imagine. Some OCs are more difficult to simulate in your brain than others and Amber is just always fun. she has a very spicy personality!!! she was one of my first OCs!!! she was THE first cuttlefish OC i made what's not to love!!! she's very lovable and I look up to her to be honest. she has a lot of stuff going on and that's admirable honestly

✂️ - What is one of your OC’s worst memories?

wow ok the tonal shift. Uhhh well. LOL honestly?? She's generally a pretty optimistic person and doesn't let stuff drag her down, so that's hard to pinpoint. I feel like people would expect something generally traumatic which arguably would be losing her eye, and that's up there, but it's not *the* worst? (She doesn't even consider the injury part the worst part of that memory.) I feel like most of her actual worst memories come from her teenage years when she used to play solo Turf competitively and generally wasn't a very nice person.

Her WORST memory definitely is, or used to be, cutting off the rivalry between herself and Peppermint back in the day and completely crushing her because she felt she had better things to do and it just wasn't worth her time and energy to keep 1v1ing some desperate squid who loses every time anyway. That caused Peppermint to temporarily quit ink battles altogether back in the day, and when Amber heard about that, something clicked and she just felt like the scum of the earth. She ended up quitting herself almost immediately following that because she realized nothing she was doing was actually fulfilling and it was actually kind of nice having "human" connection with somebody on the field, which she fucked up, so. THAT whole conclusion had to have been her worst memory and ate her up inside for literal years afterwards until she reconnected with Peppermint and learned that she actually didn't drive her out of the sport, she just came back a bit later with a fresh mindset. But it doesn't change that she crushed her spirit even if just temporarily. So y'know. A MAJOR personal failing.

❤️ - What is one of your OC’s best memories?

On account of being pretty optimistic, Amber has a lot of nice memories actually. I think some of her favorites have to be personal milestones, like the decision to open the bakery and workshopping the menu with her friends. But the majority of them are likely of the smaller nice things in life, like going to get ice cream with Peppermint, or just walking home from the grocery store and holding hands, or a particularly smooth work day, or reading on the couch while there's a typhoon outside (instead of having to be outside). Some of her most recent ones from the last year are mostly centered around archeology, since she went out to the Splatlands desert to dig for bones and human artifacts, and that was FUUUN. And very taxing, but so so worth it.

A recent top memory for her has to be her first Turf War since like ten years or so, back when she and Peppy were over at Splatsville and decided to give it a go. It was ROUGH given that she was nowhere near the athletic status she was at 16 let alone prepared for the chaos of Turf War, with a completely different environment and all kinds of new mechanics (back when she played pretty much everyone had a Splattershot! What is going ON!). But she had a fantastic time regardless because it was more or less her first time actually going into a Turf War NOT with the goal of outperforming everyone else and winning, but going into it to have fun and enjoy a battle experience with the focus on it as a team activity. Most importantly because it was also her first time ever entering a Turf War on the SAME TEAM as Peppermint, so honestly no matter how poorly the battle would've gone she was just super excited to get to play together and synergize. (It went well by the way. They're an overpowered team even if they're washed up.)

thanks for the ask!! here's the little guy version i made of her for her page the other day...

#mailbox #dodo ocs #i love amber. she is such a certified blorbo #and certified NERD cannot forget that

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arctichotch · 2 years

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rumour has it that johnny depp doesn’t shower and constantly reeks of piss and booze but you didn’t hear it from me

#he is SCUM #makes me ill tbh #cw johnny depp #i heard that being in a room with him for a few minutes makes your eyes water #anti johnny depp #i stand with amber heard #i might be a little under the influence #oops #anyway it’s time to start bullying these people they are insane

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iolaussharpe-24 · 16 days

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Things shitty people make me feel bad about liking.

Joss Whedon - Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, Firefly, The Avengers, Age of Ultron, Toy Story, Atlantis, Speed, Dr Horrible, Cabin in the Woods, Justice League

Kevin Sorbo - Hercules the Legendary Journeys, Never Cry Werewolf

Amber Heard - Aquaman, The Stepfather, Justice League

JK Rowling- Harry Potter, Fantastic Beasts

Jada Pinkett Smith - Demon Knight, Madagascar, A Low Down Dirty Shame, Scream 2, The Matrix, The Nutty Professor

Ezra Miller - Fantastic Beasts, Justice League, Invincible

Mel Gibson - Chicken Run, Pocahontas

Terrence Howard - Princess and the Frog, Iron Man, Crash, The Perfect Holiday

Armie Hammer - Mirror Mirror, The Lone Ranger, Death on the Nile, Mine, On the Basis of Sex, Cars 3

The Weinsteins - Every movie the fuckers ever touched.

Am I wrong for liking these things knowing the people involved are scum at best and monsters at worst?

#fandom #toxic people #fuck these people

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enchantmentandshadows · 10 months

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SJM Crackship Month : Forbidden Romance

So my #1 crackship for anyone who doesn't know, is Eris x Nuala. I live and breath for the crackyatch that is Shadowfire.

If you know me, then you know I don't shut up about them and I never will, so this is my contribution for SJM Crackship Month!

SJM Crackship Month - Day 13 - Forbidden Romance

Crackship: Nuala x Eris

@sjmcrackshipmonth

Overdue Kiss

Nuala found herself glancing up again for the third time, her breath catching as amber eyes met her grey. She’d been caught this time, and the quiet chuckle she heard as she looked away confirmed as much. Trouble. She knew he was trouble but she’d long been able to sense there was much more to Eris Vanserra than that, despite how the rest of her friends and family felt about him.

They’d had enough conversations, she’d spent enough time with him to get a sense of him and she wasn’t afraid. Besides, Lucien was nice, why couldn’t Eris be too?

“Nuala?” The school librarian said, giving her a tap on the shoulder and pulling her from her thoughts.

“Sorry.” She said, feeling her cheeks heat at being caught, distracted by Eris Vanserra for the second time in the span of a minute.

“Can you shelve the books on the cart before you go?” She asked, motioning to the cart covered in stacks of books.

“Of course, I’ll get started now.” Nuala said with a nod, anxious to get away and hide. Far from the intense amber eyes that followed her as she disappeared further into the library.

Eris Vanserra sat patiently, pretending to read for all of 30 seconds before getting to his feet and going to find where Nuala had disappeared to. She’d caught his attention long before they ever spoke but he hadn’t dared to approach her. There was no point in trying to make nice with the Archeron’s or anyone in their circle if your last name was Vanserra. Lucien was tolerated only because of his friendship with Elain.

The first time Nuala spoke to him, he waited for the insult or the barbed comments, but they never came. One conversation after another, each a little longer than the last until he finally stopped waiting for things to sour and just let himself enjoy her company. They’d kept things quiet, mostly for their own sanity. There was no love lost between their families, but it didn’t stop him from being drawn to her. Here he was, seeking her out in the middle of the day, at school where anyone might see.

“So embarrassing.” Nuala muttered, pushing the cart around a corner, placing books back in their rightful place one by one. She refused to let her mind wander again, especially to a certain Vanserra. Maybe it would have been easier to get him off her mind if she pretended he was as awful as her family always said. Maybe if she suspected he’d only spoken to her to get a rise out of them, but he’d kept it as quiet as she had. A secret just between the two of them, but it never felt like a dirty secret, something to be ashamed of. It felt special and fragile, like something to be protected and shielded from the outside world.

She hadn’t told him, but Azriel had seen them talking and immediately warned her against him. He wasted no time running down his list of reasons why Eris and his brothers were the scum of the earth and should be avoided at all costs. She’d listened and tucked the information away but in the many times they’d spoken and spent time together, Eris had never shown himself to be anything like Az described.

Yes, he was a smart ass. Snarky and sarcastic, but he was also witty and fun. He was charming and though he might deny it, he could also be very sweet. Nuala wasn’t sure what she’d done to unlock this side of him, but deep down, some part of her knew that this was who he truly was. Being around Eris was just easy and natural and she wasn't going to give that up without good reason.

The one thing Nuala was certain of was that he wasn’t there to see her. He was a student, a Senior with plenty of final exams to study for. Him being there could have absolutely nothing to do with her. True, she’d never seen him study in here before and also true she’d recently let it slip that she worked here during her free period but that wasn’t proof of anything. Eris Vanserra was NOT here to see her.

“Ridiculous.” She sighed, on her tiptoes, struggling to slip a thick volume back onto a high shelf. Her heart raced as a pale hand reached out to help, his skin so warm against hers.

“The book, or you hiding from me?” Eris’ velvety voice teased from behind her. She turned to find those warm amber eyes on her again, and she found that she didn’t mind it. Not his eyes fixed on her, or the dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks, not his smug smile or the way he leaned against the shelf, towering over her.

“Hiding? From you?” She scoffed. “I didn’t even notice you were here.” She lied with a smirk that drew a matching one from Eris.

Beautiful, she was absolutely beautiful, Eris thought. And though she’d played it shy earlier, she was clearly feeling playful now, and he loved her like this.

“But since you’re here, make yourself useful?” She asked, motioning to the cart of books.

“Since you asked so nicely.” He grinned, following her with the cart, watching her every graceful move. He wasn’t sure how it happened, how he’d let himself fall for someone so out of his reach but he didn’t regret it. She might, for wasting her time on someone like him but he knew he’d never regret her.

“Can I help you find a book?” She asked, daring a glance over her shoulder before replacing a few more books on the shelf.

“Nuala…” She could hear the smile in his voice, and the warning. It made her heart flutter in her chest. He was feeling bold today and it inspired a bit of boldness in her too.

“Vanserra.” She smirked, turning to face him, arms crossed over her chest.

His grin widened, brows raised in surprise as he closed the distance between them. One of them would back down, they always did when there were other people around.

Nuala didn’t turn away, not as his hand threaded through her hair and cradled the back of her head, not as he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. Eris’ heart thundered in his chest as she tipped her chin up and returned the kiss, silencing his fears and doubts as she always did. Worth it. She was worth any obstacles he’d have to deal with to stay in her life.

Nuala didn’t flinch when the books she held thudded to the floor, her hands now steadily moving up Eris’ chest. She didn’t care that anyone could have walked by and seen them. She’d already made up her mind that Eris was worth the risk and if her family found out, she would tell them so and they would deal with it together.

#sjmcrackshipmonth23 #sjmcrackshipmonth #shadowfire #nuala x eris #eris x nuala #acotar crackship #crackyatch #eris vanserra #nuala

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lunastar92 · 2 years

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For her and her freeloading leeches! 🤡🖕🏽

#amber heard is guilty #amber turd #anti amber heard #hoaxers #freeloaders #greedy #scum

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darthmatthewtwihard · 2 years

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This blog is pro-Amber Heard and Anti-Johnny Depp because #JohnnyDepp deserves to be sentenced to life in prison without parole because #JohnnyDeppIsAnAbuser and #JohnnyDeppIsARapist.

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lacontroller1991 · 1 year

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Admittance Is the First Step (Rick Flag x F!Reader)

Main Master List DC Master List

Requested by @11thstreetvigilante : “What you see in me is what I want to see in myself” with Rick? ❤️

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, language, talk of death ideation, Rick is depressed, reader is in love, angst with happy ending

Word Count: 1.4k

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Rick grimaces as he chugs the drink down, setting the empty glass on the bar and signaling for the tender to fill it up for the fifth time. It’s nine o'clock on a Tuesday and he could swear that he’s the only one in the bar save for the local prostitute hanging out in the back.

“Thought I would find you here,” you set your bag down on the counter as you slide into the seat next to Rick, placing an order for a gin and tonic to the bartender who immediately gets to work on the drink. “Thought you would be heading home by now.”

“Can’t.” Rick doesn’t miss the way you cock your head to the side, confusion written all over your face but with him not providing any more details you decide not to press the issue. It’s always like this whenever he comes home from a mission. He will put the prisoners back in their cell, finish up whatever report he needed to do for Waller and then drink away his sorrows immediately after, which has led to many late night phone calls for you to pick him up, except this time he didn’t call, it was a gut feeling.

Sighing, you scroll through your phone in silence. On the nights like tonight where he’s locked himself up in a bar, he typically doesn’t do much talking and you know he would rather drink in quietness than in noise and you can’t say you blame him, after all, some down time is definitely needed after dealing with people like Digger Harkness and Harley Quinn.

Rick will never admit it, but he doesn’t want to be sitting in silence. He wants to be able to talk to you, tell you all about the mission as you lend an ear where he can talk to you honestly and without the ears of Waller and her lackeys. He doesn’t know why he trusts you as much as he does, afterall, anybody who works for Waller obviously does not care for their life, but for some reason, Rick feels like he can trust you with anything. Maybe it’s because you’re always there to patch him up after a mission gone south, or maybe it’s the way that you’ll stay with him in the darkest parts of the night when he can’t sleep, or maybe it’s the way you have always said positive things to him in an attempt to soothe him.

“Lost 4 people today.” The words are quiet and if the bar was noisy, you probably wouldn’t have heard them, but you did and your heart drops. One of the many things that you love about Rick is that even though all those felons have committed several heinous crimes against humanity, he still showed them human kindness despite the rest of the prison staff treating them like scum. “Could’ve been avoided if I had only listened to Waller instead of my own gut.” Rick picks up the glass and drinks the amber liquid in a second. If it burned going down, he made no notion of it. “I should’ve listened.”

“You took a risk, Rick. Not all of them are going to pay off, but you got the remainder of the team back to safety and you got yourself to safety and that’s the most important thing.”

Rick scoffs as he leans forward on the bar counter top, turning his head to the side and eyeing you up and down, dressed in your normal clothes. “You know, sometimes I wish I don’t make it back at all. I sometimes wish that I’ll die or be kidnapped on a mission just so I don’t have to face everybody after another failed mission.” The admittance stops your heart. Sure Rick gets depressed after missions, it’s hard not to, but you have never heard him say that he “wishes to die”, not once, not ever.

“You take those words back. You have no clue how much you mean to these prisoners.” To me, you think to yourself as he rolls his eyes and glances down at the empty glass, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth as he muses over his words.

“What would even happen if I die? Pretty sure Waller would find someone to cover my spot and that’s that. Would anyone even shed a tear? I work day and night, I go home to an empty apartment, I have no one in my life that I care to share joy with. I mean I have been living at the prison so much that the only thing in my fridge is a case of beer and pizza from two weeks ago.”

Holding the tears at bay, you slip out of your seat and slip your arms around his waist, nuzzling your face into his back as you sniffle. How can he really not notice the way you care for him? How can he not notice the way he makes life for the prisoners so much better? “You’re so fucking stupid, Richard.”

Rick freezes in his chair. “Excuse me?” He turns around in your grasp as you let go of him, crossing your arms across your chest as if you’re hugging yourself.

“How the fuck can you not notice how much you mean to the squad?”

“They don’t care about me. They only care about getting time off their sentences.” You shake your head in disagreement, wiping tears out of your eyes as Rick raises an eyebrow. Why is she crying?

“Rick, stop kidding yourself, you know that’s not true. Think about all the times they have gone back for you because they know you would go back for them. Even though they’re assholes, they adore you. But beside the point, how the fuck can you not notice how much you mean to me?” All is quiet in the bar as the bartender and prostitute watch on in entertainment and in curiosity as to what’s going on. “I love you, Rick. I love your smile, I love your eyes, I love your voice, I love the way you command people, I love your terrible terrible jokes, I love the way you doodle on my notebook periodically even if I can’t make out what it is sometimes. I love the way you help others, I love the way you put yourself on the line for innocents, I love the way you don’t let people talk shit about your squad, I love the way you trust me enough to open up about your day, I love the way you allow yourself to be vulnerable around me, and I really love the way you’re yourself when you’re around me. I love you, Rick Flag, and I am not going to let you talk about wanting to ‘die’ or wanting to be ‘kidnapped’ because if something happened to you, I just know I would not survive.”

Rick doesn’t make a comment on your monologue and a little part of your mind is eating away in denial that he’ll return the feelings. Rick’s lip twitches upward for a second as he looks to the floor, finding his shoes all of the sudden fascinating as he takes in your words. He supposes he’s always known about your feelings, but now with them out in the open, he knows that he feels the same way about you. “What you see in me is what I want to see in myself.”

Your eyes soften as you take a step forward, unlocking your arms as they fall to your side awkwardly, not knowing really what to do with them as a thought pops into your mind. “Then let me show you. Move in with me.”

“What?”

“Move in with me. I have plenty of space at my house. That way you will always be able to come home to a warm, inviting house with a warm meal cooked for you, so that you’re not living off cheap beer and stale pizza. Let me show you just how much I adore you. Let me help you start to believe that about yourself, because Rick, you are so much more than you think. Please let me show you that.”

“I’d take her up on her offer,” the bar tender quips, polishing a glass as the prostitute listens in with eagerness as Rick hangs his head. She does have a point, you could use somebody like her in your life. You could use a companion outside the office.”

“Ok. I’ll move in with you, and (Y/N)?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

==========

Author’s Note: Basically just a love letter to our Colonel.

General Tag List: @marvelousmermaid @himbovillain-anon @babblydrabbly @a-reader-and-a-writer @fairchildflag @infatuatedjanes

Joel Tag List: @aestheticallywinchester @loverhymeswith @xoxabs88xox @t-i-n-y-d-i-n-o @witchygagirl @the1redrose @ratcatcher2world @green-socks @weallhaveadestiny @yourjacketisnowdry @rachelh1992 @a-girl-who-loves-disney @knivesareout @bubblegloopswampwitch @waspswidows @burntghoost @mattymurdocksbitch @katjnordstrom96 @11thstreetvigilante @yespolkadotkitty @heresathreebee @madkovacs @wxr-zxne @wtfobiwan @alieninoklahoma @violetmuses @stevensgordo @neon-supernova @ijustthinkrickflagisprettyneat

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