#and I don’t like people touching my face? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kingkatsuki · 17 hours

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I started this in March and I finally managed to finish it. It was only supposed to be a short thirst post but yet here we are. Thank you if you decide to give it a go💕

Summary: Tengen thinks Sanemi is wound far too tight, and of course he knows just the way to fix it— by taking him to his favourite brothel.

Pairing: Shinazugawa Sanemi x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, reader is a courtesan, implied!Tengen using their services, virgin!Sanemi, sex as a transaction, slight degradation, praise, blowjobs, cum swallowing, dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, Sanemi is way too obsessed with reader way too fast (but she likes it!!)

Word Count: 9.4k.

“Allow yourself to indulge a little, my friend,” Tengen clapped his shoulder with a grin, “After all that’s what this district is for.”

“I have no time for indulgence.” Sanemi scoffed, ripping his shoulder out of Tengen’s grip as he bared his front incisors.

It was already insufferable enough that he’d had to spend the last few nights with the Sound Pillar, but it was made worse by the grand spectacle he’d made when they’d both entered the entertainment district for the first time. The bright lights paired with the bustling crowds seemed to evoke even more intolerable actions from Uzui and Sanemi couldn’t wait to get home.

“There’s always time for indulgence, my friend,” He persisted, not taking his answer for gospel as he continued down the brightly illuminated street, “And don’t you want to experience the soft touch of a woman?”

“Why would I want to do that?” Sanemi sneered, rolling his eyes as Tengen waved over at a group of women who were standing at the entrance to an establishment trying to coax him over.

All Sanemi wanted to do was find a bed at the local inn and rest his head for a few hours so he could be alert when searching for the demon that was rumoured to be sighted in the area. It disgusted him that people were seemingly still out satiating themselves with cheap frivolity when lives were at risk.

“You can’t die a virgin,” He continued, mid-wave, “How embarrassing.”

“You need to assess your priorities if that is what you assume to be an embarrassment.” He snapped, “Not when there are still demons alive—”

“Ah, I worry as much as you,” Sanemi highly doubted it, “But You never know you might find yourself relaxing a bit.” Tengen persisted, “Might find yourself less angry.”

Sanemi sneered as he balled his hands into a fist, preparing to land a strike against his cocky fellow hashira before Tengen pulled back the purple fabric to a building at the side of them, stepping inside the brothel.

“You can wait outside if you want, I’m sure you’ll find the street performers more than entertaining.”

Sanemi glanced towards the rowdy men who were currently playing instruments in the middle of the street, the loud noise irksome as people stopped to dance with them. Scrunching his nose in irritation as he turned to face the Sound Pillar.

“Fine,” His lips smoothed into a thin line, “But you’re fuckin’ paying.”

Sanemi lingered outside as he stared at the wisteria pattern against the curtain. His heart pounded in his chest at the thought before he took a deep breath and followed inside.

“Ah, Mr Uzui, your usual?”

“Not today,” He clapped a hand on Sanemi’s shoulder, “I’ve brought a friend.”

Sanemi could see the girls in the background begin to cower away, even though they tried to hide it. Shrugging Uzui’s hand off his shoulder with a growl of irritation as he tried to avoid the pairs of eyes watching him intently, jaw locked as he sucked in a breath of air.

“How wonderful, Uzui-sama.” The lady bowed as she motioned to a young girl, “Our Oiran is unavailable now, but I’m certain she will more than suffice.”

The girl cowered in fear as she was given a push in her lower back in an attempt to get her feet to start working, the poor thing. She’d barely been here a week and she’d already had a difficult afternoon with a travelling samurai who’d assumed being rough was included with the price.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, Shinazugawa.” Uzui called out from behind him as Sanemi glared in irritation. There was certainly no chance of that happening, especially at the sight of the young girl that looked close to tears.

“It would be my honor to serve you tonight, my Lord.” You chanced stepping forward, feeling your Madame turn to glare at you.

“Remember your place,” She jeered, the same sickly sweet smile on her face to mask her indignation before turning back to the hashira, “I’m sorry, Shinazugawa-sama. Please let us show you to your room—”

“I want her.” He cut her off coldly, tired eyes matching your gaze as an unfamiliar heat lingered in your chest.

“Not to question your choice, my Lord. But we have many excellent options here—”

“Keep them.” He stepped towards you as you took this as your moment to turn around. Ignoring your Madame’s calls for him to enjoy his night, and request a change at any time if he so desired. It was no wonder she was worried about you tarnishing her reputation, trying to palm to hashira off on someone far more weak willed. But you were intrigued by the man from the moment he stepped through the door, and the poor girl needed a chance to recover from her ordeal.

You could practically feel his eyes on you as you led him down the wooden hallway towards your room, keeping enough of a distance as you slid the screen door open gently. Stepping to the side to invite him in with a slight bow of your head as the white-haired man followed into the room, scrunching his nose at the potent smell of flowers that permeated the air as you closed the door behind you. It was sickly sweet, worse than the ohagi he’d cook at home; invading his senses as he tried to ignore the scent throbbing at the back of his skull.

You could feel how awkward he was, lingering by the doorway as you could cut the tension in the air with a blade. Smoothing down the front of your kimono as you stood in front of him, noticing the way his lavender eyes took note of the futon in the corner of the room.

So this was the seedy shit that Uzui got up to in his free time? Sanemi scoffed.

An impertinent man with three wives who still managed to find the time to spend in the arms of another. Having one woman would be enough of a nuisance, he thinks. But juggling four sounded like pure greed.

“Can I get you anything Shinazugawa-sama?” You smiled, “Tea? Sake? We also have fresh onigiri—”

Sanemi wished you’d stop calling him that. He usually delighted in the honorific when he was called it by others, but the saccharine lilt to your voice as you danced along his name had his cock pulsing between his thighs uncomfortably.

“No.” He bit back the insult that threatened to follow as you nodded in affirmation.

“Well, you’re welcome to make yourself comfortable for your time here,” You continued, “Our services are open to the Hashira for as long as they see fit.”

He scoffed at that, knowing that a Hashira’s pocket was rarely empty so it made sense they’d want to make as much money from them as possible.

“We don’t have to do anything,” You smiled softly, noticing he was silent as he remained still. The cogs in his head slowly turned as he wondered why he’d even agreed to this in the first place, how he’d even made it this far.

“You think I’m scared or somethin’?” Sanemi gibed, maybe a little harsher than intended, but it felt warranted. Your words made it seem as though you were questioning his valour. And Shinazugawa Sanemi never backed down in fear, especially not like this.

“No,” You tilted your head to the side and Sanemi felt his heart rattle at his cages with how cute you looked. Trying to fight the heat that was slowly rising through his body and tickling the tips of his ears.

He felt hot. If he’d have known this was how easily it was to increase his body temperature warm enough to potentially receive a mark, he would’ve demanded that Uzui bring him here a long, long time ago—

“I can just tell you’ve never been here before,” You hummed, “It’s probably unfamiliar to what you’re used to.”

You were right. Sanemi felt completely out of his depth.

“I have no desire to frequent a whorehouse.” He spat, masking his vulnerability. And yet he was acutely aware of the way you didn’t flinch like many would, cowering away from him in fear as though he were a coiled snake ready to attack.

It was at that moment your eyes met his across the room, and for the first time, he recognised the desolate emptiness in your eyes. He recognised it because it was the same one he held whenever he glanced at his reflection. So much time spent wallowing in self-loathing and pity, forcing himself to submerge himself in sheer hatred instead of looking at the ones around him. Sanemi could tell you’d been through a lot too, suffering at the hands of many while being forced into a life you’d never wanted for yourself. Much like him.

“But you’re here anyway, so you might as well relax for the time,” You smiled back, and it only pained him more that he’d spoken to you with such callousness, “And at least you can avoid your friend for a few hours.”

“Is that what all your visitors come here to do?” He sneered but did not attempt to move.

“To linger in the doorway?” You raised a brow, “No, you would be the first.”

Sanemi felt a heat rise all the way to the tips of his ears at this, noticing he’d barely stepped inside the room since you’d brought him this far.

“I don’t bite, you know.” You laughed as you watched him frozen in place.

Could you tell he was a virgin? He wondered if it was obvious from the way he lingered as his body became engulfed in flames. Willing the ground to swallow him whole at the prospect of appearing so inexperienced, and he was surprised at how much he cared.

“We have many people that come here just to talk,” You smiled, settling down into a kneel, “But you don’t seem like much of a talker.”

But that’s not why he was here, he thinks. The proposition had been offered to him, and Uzui had certainly never mentioned talking. “The perfect medicine!” He’d clapped him on the back as he’d led him towards the establishment, a haughty smile on his face. Sanemi was here to try and settle his temper, to blow off some steam. And yet here he still stood stoic in the doorway, silence hanging in the air.

“Well, if you don’t like to talk. Maybe you’d like to watch?” You offered up the option, as Sanemi froze.

What?

He was certain he wouldn’t make it from this room alive, spending years fighting demons only to be scuppered by a beguiling temptress like you. Positive Uzui had fed him to the wolves the moment he stepped through the doors to this establishment and pulled back the curtain.

Sanemi’s tongue slipped out to wet his lips, a futile action when his throat was this dry, as he played back your offer in his head. The words echoed in his ear as he wondered how he was supposed to receive them, whether he needed to say yes or if you would be so kind as to show him exactly what you meant.

He’d never thought much of laying with a woman before. His line of work failed to offer much chance of finding a suitable wife and settling down, even though Uzui had managed to find three. More interested in ridding the world of the scourge of demons instead of cheap frills and frivolity. Sanemi’s only glimpses of breasts had been in onsens or walking through the Red light district. Enough to have his cock pulsing between his thighs as he fought the temptation, but nothing like how you made him feel standing in front of him right now.

“Uzui-sama had said to show you—”

“Can’t you just get on with it?” He cut you off, definitely a little harsher than intended. But it’s to be expected when he’s like a wild deer backed into a corner, as you mentioned the shepherd that had dragged him to the slaughter.

He was going to kill Uzui-sama when he got out of this, he scoffed, the man probably only attended the house to hear that honorific.

“Of course, Shinazugawa-sama.” You smiled, as Sanemi’s eyes now focused on your smaller hands teasing the opening of your kimono, his cock bucking under his pants at the same honorific, “So you can learn how to please a woman.”

Sanemi didn’t want a woman, he had no intention of pleasing anyone. And yet he found himself wondering on what it would be like to please you. Whether your eyes would roll, or your toes would curl. Thinking about the saccharine sigh of his name tumbling from your lips when he had you on the crux of your bliss. And then he began to wonder whether any man had ever pleased a woman inside these four walls, whether a man had ever pleased you—

“Is that even important?” He scoffed, lips coiled into a sneer as you sat back on your haunches.

“Well, it depends. I’m sure as long as you have a woman to lay with you’ll find your pleasure,” You smiled, finding no offence in his question, “But if you help her find her pleasure you’ll be far more satisfied.”

Sanemi felt the heat inside him start to burn as you pressed him to stay. Telling himself it was out of pure intrigue as he lowered his sword to the floor, his palm still clasped over it as he made his decision to stay.

You managed to get him to kneel, although he positioned himself with one foot on the ground. Knee bent as though he was preparing to flee the scene the moment this became too much.

“So you’re only here because of your friend?” You posed the question to him in an attempt to break the ice, though it was more than obvious to be true.

The hunched shoulders and flushed cheeks made it wholly apparent that this wasn’t one of his usual haunts. And that the Hashira felt extremely out of place—

Awkward.

“He seems to think I’m wound too tight,” Sanemi grunted, eyes focused on the way you languidly disrobed.

If he had the confidence he’d reach across the room and pull the haori down your shoulders himself, telling you to hurry up. He’d never witnessed someone take so long to disrobe, although he supposed this was some sort of show you were supposed to put on for the drunken men who frequented the establishment. So he held back, watching as the fabric finally pooled around you.

“So he brought you here to let off some steam.” You smile, beginning to work on the buttons at the front of your kimono.

“And what say you?” He sneered, “What do you think?”

“I’d say your job is difficult,” You whispered, slowly pulling back the front of your kimono to expose your naked breasts to his prying gaze.

Sanemi didn’t say anything, but you noticed his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed thickly. Nostrils flaring as he exhaled softly as the fabric fell around you to join your haori.

“It’s no wonder you have so much rage inside.” You continue, hands delicate in your lap as you allow him to look at you, “It’s okay to let it out. To release some tension—”

You were right, Sanemi supposed. Although since being inside this building he somehow felt worse— the tension continuing to build inside his abdomen as his pelvis tightened uncomfortably, his heavy cock throbbing with desire as it pressed against the front of his uniform. Shifting his thighs as he tried to give himself some slight relief from the incessant throb, as you did little to satiate it when you began to tease your naked breasts.

“Are you a virgin, Shinazugawa-sama?” You asked, although you were certain you already knew the answer.

“What’s it to you?” He mocked, “You’re just a common whore ready to spread her legs. It’s your job—”

“I’m sorry, my Lord.” You smile softly, finding no malice in his words. It was clear he was trying to deflect your question, as though the answer burned him to say, “I was certain you wanted to talk.”

You were worried you may have pushed him too much, that he would turn and flee the room and leave you naked and alone. Or worse— attack.

You’d had it happen before. Men who would enter the building of their own free will, before turning on you at the last moment. Hands wound tight around your neck as they blamed you for cheating on their wives, for making them do this. And it wasn’t just the men who had nothing else to lose; the ones that would spend their final gold on a night with a woman. These were respected members of society— samurai, business owners, and demon slayers. And perhaps that’s why every other woman had cowered in fear when the Wind Pillar had stepped through the door, because they expected nothing less from the ruthless Hashira.

But he looked vulnerable.

“If you don’t want to talk,” You continued to pull back the fabric of your kimono to expose your naked frame to his lilac eyes, the material cascaded down your body and onto the floor as you allowed him to drink in the sight of you. His eyes roamed your naked skin as they followed a path along your sternum, between the valley of your breasts until they settled on your chubby mound, “I’m certain there are other things we could do that would please you.”

Sanemi’s throat seized as he watched your hands reach up to mould against your round breasts, the skin dipping beneath your touch as you let out a soft, satisfied gasp. A sound that sent jolts of electricity surging through his veins. Enough to have his hands balling into tight fists that settled on top of his thighs as blunt nails dug into his palms, focused on the way your nipples hardened as you pinched and rolled them between your thumb and forefinger.

“You can touch me, you know,” You murmured, “I don’t mind.”

Sanemi swallowed thickly at the invitation. It was why he was here, after all. But somehow it felt daunting to reach out and close the gap, unsure where he should even start with you as he stayed stoic across the room.

You chanced scooting towards him across the wooden floor, settling yourself in front of him as you reached out to grasp one of his tightly closed fists. Gently prying his fingers open as he allowed you to contort his hand, splaying his fingers as you laced your fingers through his own, threading them together as your warmth engulfed him.

The action felt too intimate, which felt peculiar to say when he was sat opposite a half-naked stranger. And yet, he found himself not wanting to pull away. He leaned into your touch, his palm squeezing yours as you took it for reassurance, a soft smile on your face as he found himself beginning to relax.

“It’s okay,” You cooed, “We can just sit like this if you’d prefer.”

You were delighted when you felt the tense muscles in his hand begin to relax as his clenched jaw softened.

“Or we can tell your friend we did everything you wanted,” You continue with a laugh, “And that way it wouldn’t be a lie.”

And Sanemi wished he could put all his wants into words. The thoughts that now ran rampant through his mind as he breathed in the candied scent of you, feeling you lean closer to pepper gentle kisses to the side of his jaw. Tickling his skin against the growing stubble that left a shadow as you moved forward to place your hand flat against his muscular thigh.

“There wouldn’t be a need to lie.” Sanemi’s voice was rough like gravel as he tried desperately to wet his tongue, the roof of his mouth giving no appeasement as his Adam’s apple bobbed thickly.

“Oh?” You murmured, feeling no hint of him pulling away as you leaned back to face him. Your breath fanning his skin as you looked at him through thick, long lashes. Sultry eyes flickering towards his chapped lips before returning his gaze, “So what would you like us to tell him?”

“W-what?” Sanemi stuttered, cursing himself for sounding so pathetic.

“What is it you’d like to tell him?” You smiled softly, your hand slipping higher along his thigh, “What stories do you want to return with?”

And now Sanemi was certain this was the closest he’d come to death.

“Maybe I can suck your cock?” The words almost had him falling apart as he focused on every syllable, unused to someone speaking to him with such candour.

“Uh- yeah.” He felt the embarrassment begin to bloom inside him at his pathetic response as his eyes bore into your own.

You managed to get him on his back, chest heaving as you began to unfasten the belt around his hips. Watching the way his gut clenched in anticipation as you palmed him softly through the rough fabric, causing his hips to buck as he cursed beneath his breath.

“You feel big, Shinazugawa-sama.”

“Call me Sanemi.” He barked back gruffly, wanting to hear the sweet sound of his name leave your lips instead.

“Of course, Sanemi.” You cooed. Never making it to the futon as you straddled his thighs where he lay on the hardwood floor. Shrugging off the rest of your kimono to leave your body completely bare above him as he had to try to remember to breathe.

It was difficult to think when he noticed just how close your bare cunt was to his crotch, certain he could feel the warmth radiating from it against his thigh as you began to tug his pants down. Enough to free his aching cock as it drooped hard and heavy against his pelvis, long enough to follow the curve of his hip as the uncut tip leaked pearlescent beads of pre. Your stomach swirled at the sight of him, what he lacked in size he made up for in sheer girth. Thick, bulging veins forking along his girth as you imagined how he would feel buried inside you, the stretch as he fucked to into the shape of him. The thoughts had your neglected cunt throbbing around nothing as you felt warm slick begin to pool between your thighs.

“I was right— you are big.” You noted, wrapping a slender hand around him at the base as his hips jerked in surprise. Biting back a sharp hiss from between clenched teeth at the sensation as his palms instantly balled into fists at his sides.

“Is that what you say to every man that passes through here?” Sanemi spat, but he secretly hoped this wasn’t the case. He was filled with the incessant desire to impress you, to have you fawning over him. Even though none of this was real.

“No, actually,” You smiled, “I think it might actually hurt if you fuck me.”

Sanemi’s cock kicked with your blase tone, certain he was about to come undone from your words alone. But as if that weren’t enough, he felt himself choking back a grunt when you leaned down to press a lingering kiss to his leaking tip. Licking your lips to taste his pre as you stared up at him from under thick lashes, “If you tell me to stop, I’ll stop.”

Sanemi almost snorted at this. As though he wouldn’t be able to overpower you and push you off in an instant, you wouldn’t stand a chance—

“Oh, fuckin’ shit—” All conscious thoughts were ripped away from him the moment you wrapped your lips around his cock. Catching you by surprise as his hips jerked roughly, forcing more of his length inside your wet mouth as the heady tip of his cock pressed against the back of your throat. The sudden motion caused you to gag as you pulled back to cough and splutter, and Sanemi felt downright depraved when he throbbed at the sight of you. Strings of spit mixed with his pre connected him to your mouth as he groaned, noticing the fat tears that now clumped in your lashes as he tried to remember to breathe, “I’m sorry, I’m—”

“It’s okay,” You brushed him off with a smile, your warm palms stroked softly against his hairy thighs as he tried to calm his body down, “I actually liked it.”

You liked it? Gods, you were certain to be the death of him.

You took him into your mouth again as he fought back the urge to cant his hips forward, growling when your tongue began to trace the bulging veins along his length. Hollowing your cheeks as you began to gently bob your head along him as the hand wrapped around his base began to massage his heavy balls.

It was no wonder Uzui always seemed particularly cheery if this was what he got to experience at home. Sanemi’s eyes rolled back into his skull as he clenched them shut, positive that one look at you with your lips wrapped around him would have him coming undone in an instant.

“You can hold my head, show me what you like.” You murmured against the tip of his cock as you pulled back for air before swallowing him again. Coaxing him to touch you, to move you how he’d like to be treated, and Sanmei wondered why he should even bother when this already felt like heaven.

The whiny, desperate whine that vibrated around his cock the moment he held the back of your head in a large palm was his answer. Your throat instantly tightened around him as he swallowed back another debauched moan, tightening his grip as he began to help you bob your head along his cock. Careful not to hurt you as he pushed you down so the tip of his cock nudged the back of your throat with each downward motion, something that had him leaking even more pre as the salty taste dampened your tongue.

Sanemi could already feel his balls tightening in anticipation, your movements sending him closer to bliss as he used your mouth for his own pleasure.

There’s something about being the only person to see Shinazugawa Sanemi like this. A strong, powerful man who strikes fear into the hearts of many brought to his knees as you tower over him.

His cheeks blaze fiery red as the bloom spreads to the tips of his ears as you wrap his cock into a gentle fist, squeezing the base as he tries to stop his hips from canting forward pathetically. The noise that spills from his lips is more akin to an injured animal as he tries to stop himself from spilling his release so easily. But this is exactly what you do to him, the only person that can make him feel this way.

“Do something.” His tone is cold and brash, but there’s no real malice behind it as you have him as close to begging as you can.

Your fingers slip lower from his balls as you run your thumb along his taint, dipping into the sensitive skin as you have Sanemi’s hips bucking wildly as he catches you completely off guard as he cums with a depraved snarl. Hot, sticky ropes of cum spurt from his pulsing cock as you catch them in your mouth, coating your throat in his potent seed as his chest heaves from the intensity. His hand remains rough at the back of your head as he forgets his hold on you, keeping you pinned on his cock as he fills you with his release.

It’s only when you splutter that Sanemi realises his hold on you, pulling away as though he’s been burned as his lilac eyes stare down at you with worry. Watching you quiver as you cough and splutter again, as he sits up in an instant to cup your neck and assess if you’re okay.

“Shit, I’m sorry—” He rasps, his cock still half-hard and doused in your spit as it hangs between you. “I didn’t mean to— are you okay?”

And for the first time, it feels as though he’s let his walls down. The worry in his tone, paired with his wide eyes show you the concern that you hadn’t expected from the harsh Wind Pillar when he’d first entered the room, and yet here he was offering you more kindness and compassion than a lot of your previous visitors.

Your throat burns, but you answer him by parting your lips and lolling your tongue out so he can see that you’ve swallowed every drop of cum he’d given you. An action that already has his cock stirring for more attention as Sanemi bites back the harsh groan that threatens to rumble deep in his chest at the sight of you.

You really had no idea that you’d be the complete undoing of him, he supposed as he allowed his thumb to brush against your soft cheek. Smiling when you leaned into his touch, still settled between his thighs.

He decided at that moment he’d quite like to kiss you. Uncertain if that was even something people did in these establishments, whether you’d even allow him to. Wondering if you’d ever wanted to kiss any of the men you’d spent time with working here, whether you’d even want to kiss him. Remembering that this was probably nothing more than a job to you, another way to pay off your debts and get yourself out.

He’d get you out if he could. Spare you from all the disgusting, rowdy creeps that you have to deal with daily and protect you from the horrors of this world.

“Are you okay?” You tilted your head to the side as Sanemi was brought back from his thoughts.

“Weren’t you gonna show me how to please a woman?” He ignored your question as his chapped lips brushed against the curve of your jaw.

“Oh,” Your cheeks flushed with a delicate flourish as warmth bloomed across your skin, “Oh, yeah.”

You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you’d even be able to handle his touch on your skin. Your cunt already throbbing wanton and desperate with need as your slick began to soak your inner thighs, positive no one else had made you feel like this before.

Reaching out to wrap your smaller palm around his wrist as he allowed you to move it how you pleased, lifting it to move it to settle against one of your soft breasts.

“Oh,” You heaved a sigh as your fingers stayed wrapped around his wrist as Sanemi began to clench his fingers, barely a squeeze as though he was worried about hurting you as you coaxed him for more, “That feels good.”

The words seemed to encourage him as he began to massage the soft skin, calloused fingers grazing against your sensitive nipples that had you crying out for him. Pleased when he took the initiative to give your other breast the same attention, your cheeks flushed as he stared shamelessly at your exposed skin.

Reaching down you circled a hand around his thick wrist, raising his hand as you placed his calloused palm against your warm breast. Thick lashes fluttered on impact as you looked down at the way he encompassed it, fingers barely flexing as he noticed the way his hand circled it. You ground your hips against him, his semi-hard cock poking into the swell of your ass as you remained seated on his abdomen. The motion pressed you harder against his hand as he began to clench his fingers, squeezing the supple skin as a breathy whine escaped your lips.

Sanemi hadn’t seen many breasts, but he was certain that you were the prettiest by far. Gaining more confidence as he started to squeeze at the soft skin, his thumb grazing over one of your hardening nipples as it stiffened to a taut peak. Biting down on glossy lips you watched him focused and intent, giving the same attention to the other side as he began to palm them both.

Sanemi inhaled softly when your fingers began to busy themselves with the fastenings of his shirt, spreading what little was left to push it off his shoulders along with his haori. Your eyes trailed over each raised scar that marred his perfect skin, fingertips delicately brushing over each line of rough skin and puckered flesh. Giving the same amount of attention to each one, knowing that they all held their own story. Spending slightly longer on the long ones that crossed against the front of his chest, dangerously close to his heart as your palm stopped against his sternum to feel his heart hammering against his chest.

Sanemi had never found his scars repulsive, but for some reason beneath your gaze, he felt self-conscious. Worried that you may find him hideous and cower away from him like most others did. Others, whose opinions he didn’t care about, but yours?

“I know they appear ugly.”

“They’re not ugly,” You hum softly, “I’m just sorry you had to go through the pain to receive them.”

Some scars run deeper, ones that don’t mark and marr his skin. The ones that permeate through to his heart, twisting and contorting as they sear into him hotter than any flame. Demons that keep him awake at night as he’s forced to relive the moments he’s received them, times that he’s faced certain death— and perhaps he deserved it. The pain of receiving them was often forgotten by Sanemi. The hurt and damage from each scar would never equate to the feeling of seeing his loved ones slain, from losing his family.

“But each one tells a story,” You continued, smiling softly. Fingertips stroking over the raised scars there, following the damaged skin as you mapped out every curve and ridge. “Each one holds a reason as to why you’re still here.”

Sanemi had never had someone touch him like this before, he’d never been handled with such care. It was at that moment that Sanemi decided he didn’t want you with anyone else, that you were his and only his.

“We all have scars, but some we try to hide more than others.” You hummed.

Fuck it. He thought as he reached around your neck to pull you into a fierce kiss, catching you off guard. His teeth clashed against your soft lips as he fought to deepen in, inexperience shining through his actions as his nose bumped yours roughly. His movements were sloppy and unpractised as he was far too chaste; too eager. Your lips follow along with his to try and guide him, your tongue teasingly laps at the corner of his lips and he does little to stop you. Trying to anticipate your movements as his lips fall open, granting you entrance as you smile against him.

Your fingers splay against his jaw, holding him steady to help slow him down. Moving your lips with purpose as your tongue brushed past his parted ones, delving into his mouth as you swallowed the moans that vibrated at the back of Sanemi’s throat. Tilting your head to deepen the kiss as you felt his arms encircle you to pull you closer, tightening his grip on you as if no matter how close you were it would never be enough.

His still half-hard cock is trapped between your bodies as you shamelessly roll your hips, pressing your lower half against it for some sweet relief as your cunt virtually burned with neglect. You’d never felt so on edge as you were tempted to reach down and press two fingers to your puffy clit to give yourself some respite. An action that didn’t go unnoticed by the perceptive Hashira who broke the kiss to stare between your bodies.

Sanemi’s fingers were warm as they brushed through your messy folds, hiding your face in his neck as you felt his knuckle graze your clit. A whiny, breathless sigh warmed his skin when he felt your tight hole begin to catch against the calloused pad of his finger.

How were you this fucking wet already and he’d barely touched you? Was this all for him?

“Please,” You murmured. Sanemi felt you roll your hips against his hand, as though you were trying to drop yourself down on his finger, eager for stimulation. Granting your wish as he slipped a solo finger inside you, baulking when he felt how warm, wet and tight you were.

Sanemi wasn’t foolish, he knew about sex. But he just had no idea that this is what you looked like down there, what you felt like. How was he supposed to fit his cock inside here when you were this tight? Surely he’d split you in two.

The moan that left your lips was debauched, and the sound surged directly to his cock. Swallowing thickly as he pressed forward again, letting the calloused pad of his finger press against your velvety walls. Trying to draw another noise like that from your throat.

Sanemi was gentle and precise compared to the other men that frequented the establishment, so used to your pleasure being unimportant as they were quick to push into you with little care or decency. Fulfilling their own needs and leaving you a crumpled, fragile mess after with comments on how thankful you should be that they were helping to pay off your debt. Glad that most men that you encountered seemed to only want comfort, a warm body to lay beside so they could fool themselves for a moment that they mattered to someone.

“Is this okay?” His voice was laced with uncertainty, his finger plunging into your tight sex as he grazed your ridged walls.

“Curl it,” You murmured, breaking off into a high-pitched gasp when he brushed against the sensitive spot inside you. Your reaction was an indication he’d found what he’d been searching for as he focused his movements against it. Deft and precise as Sanemi began to pump the lone finger in and out of you, lilac eyes focused on the way your face contorted in pleasure.

“Yeah?” He hummed in satisfaction, “You like that?”

Your cunt clenched around him in response, biting down on your bottom lip as you found yourself rolling your hips in tandem with him, moving one of your hands from his shoulders to slip between your bodies to join his as you pressed slow, precise circles against your needy clit.

“What are you doing?” His voice turned to a deep snarl, brows furrowed as he watched you touch yourself in front of him.

“Touching my clit.” You gasped as he knocked your hand away roughly, moving his thumb to press blindly against your slit to replace it.

“I’ll do it,” He growled, the authoritative lilt to his tone had you trembling as he made rough strokes in an attempt to find your sensitive nub, “There?”

He questioned as he rubbed the junction of your labia, pressing against your folds as you tried to lift your hips to position his hand.

“No,” You murmured, holding his wrist before moving your slender fingers towards his thumb to press the pad of it flat against your clit. Whining on contact as his touch felt instantly better than your own, “Here— can you feel it?”

“Yeah,” Sanemi released the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding in as he began to press tough, persistent circles against it while curling his finger inside you.

“Add another finger, please?” You begged, moving your hands back to his broad shoulders to support yourself as you continued to match his movements.

“Yeah?” He murmured, pressing both fingers against the spongy spot inside you as he began to thrust them languidly, tilting his head back to stop you from shying away from his gaze as he watched your face morph into pleasure, “You like that?”

“So good,” You affirmed, feeling the coil inside you start to wind and tighten as Sanemi focused on your pleasure. Certain your cunt was drooling into his open palm as he followed your movements, pressing deeper each time you tried to roll your hips, “I’m close.”

“Then cum.” His voice commanded, his tone curt and domineering as you found yourself succumbing to the pleasure that threatened to spill over. Your cunt clenched desperately around his digits as you came with a choked gargle of his name, white spots blanking your vision as your entire body convulsed. Sanemi’s other hand splayed flat at the arch of your back to stop you from toppling backwards as he continued to press messy circles into your throbbing clit, prolonging the sensation, “Good girl.” The words had you throbbing as he helped you ride out your bliss.

“I—” You panted, at a loss for words as your nails dug into the delicate skin on his shoulders, leaving crescent-shaped moons in their wake that Sanemi hoped would scar.

“God, you’re so fucking pretty when you cum.” Sanemi grunted, and you had to rip his hand away from your poor sex when the sensation became too much. Already feeling him forcing you towards another—

“You shouldn’t be so good at that, Shinazugawa-sama.” You groaned in satisfaction, pulling back as you noticed his cock practically leaking against his chest from the sight of you. Leaving silvery lines of pre against his skin as he sat hard and ready for you.

“What did I say to call me?” He rasped.

“Sanemi,” You breathed, and the Wind Pillar was certain he would never tire of hearing his name flow from your lips.

Was it normal to fall in love the first night with someone? With a courtesan no less. Sanemi wondered how many men had stepped through the doors of this house with the same question, returning to spend the night with a woman who was only interested in how deep their pockets were. But it somehow felt different with you— the look in your eyes made it feel like it was something more than just a transaction. And well, if it wasn’t Sanemi was positive he’d give every last penny he owned for one more night with you.

“It’s okay if you want to stop,” You smiled gently, hoping that he wouldn’t. Your cunt clenched desperately around nothing as you yearned for him, wanting to feel him stretch you out in the most intoxicating way.

You were certain it was going to hurt judging from the sheer mass that was now resting between your thighs, thick and heady. Feeling the tip almost graze your belly button as you imagined just how deep he would be inside of you. Your cunt fluttered in anticipation as he began to stroke the fat tip of his cock between your messy folds. Feeling them part for him as he nudged against your sensitive clit, making you cry out for him as he repeated the motion.

“Why would I stop?” He bit back, “You’re getting paid aren’t you?”

He hated himself for the words that left his lips, the regret evident on his features the moment he’d uttered them. But it was what he did. Pushing people away before they got too close, before he let them in—

“I’m sorry,” He murmured apologetically, “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay,” You cut him off with a small smile, used to hearing far worse as you smoothed a hand through the light hairs that scarred against his chest, “Are you ready?”

And Sanemi was certain he’d never been more prepared for anything in his life, his palms still planted firmly against your hips as he watched you reach down to wrap your palm around his drooling cock.

Holding it upright as you leaned forward to adjust yourself so the building tip was pressed against your right entrance. His fingers were no match for the stretch of the engorged tip as you slowly began to coax him inside. The first inch was painful, a delicious ache swirling in your abdomen as you tried to relax. Inhaling deeply as you gave an experimental roll of your hips, forcing another inch inside as you began to feel the stretch. The protruding veins that forked along his girth did nothing to ease the tension as you could practically feel them throb against your inner walls as you sank lower onto him.

Sanemi wasn’t fairing much better, his pupils blown as he was certain he could see every shade of colour. His grip against your hips bruising now as he tried to think of anything but the sensation of your cunt wrapped around him for the first time. He was barely halfway inside, and now he was positive he wouldn’t last by the time you made it to the base— his balls already drawn up and heavy as he imagined emptying his seed into your ripe cunt.

You were so fucking warm, and drenched. It was making it difficult to think as your slick left creamy rings around the girth of his cock, drooling down to his balls as you soaked his skin. Sanemi found himself becoming lightheaded, blindly pawing for your waist to centre himself. The back of his head knocked against the wooden floor as he readjusted his hips, giving you a few more inches as you moaned at the sensation. Catching yourself with soft palms against his chest as you rolled down into his touch, his stiff cock almost wholly inside you as you felt the messy hairs that sat at his base tickle your clit.

You still for a moment, allowing you both to adjust to the sensation. But it feels like a moment too long for Sanemi, a moment that drives him closer to the desperate release his body already craves. His hefty balls are already tight and pulsing as they threaten to spill into your eager hole.

It’s as though you notice when you start to roll your hips above him. But Sanemi reckons this is worse— your tits sway with your alluring movement, the cool air in the room hits his cock when you rise your hips to pull off him before seating yourself back down and he’s certain you’ll be the death of him. That Uzui will find the shattered remains of his body in this very room as he dies buried deep inside your molten cunt. How had he managed to continue life for so long without feeling this? It’s now the only pleasure he ever wants to indulge in as he watches you intently through blown eyes.

“Are you okay?” You hum with a teasing swirl of your hips and Sanemi has to wet his lips to reply. His tongue rolls over white teeth before clearing his throat, a heavy rumble in his chest as calloused fingers dip into the fat at your hips.

“‘m fine,” It’s all he can muster. Certain if he says more it’ll be over, and Sanemi doesn’t want this to be over, “Fuckin’ tight.”

“You feel so good,” You offer in return, “Stretching me so much—”

And Sanemi isn’t sure he even wants to hear it. Uncertain whether it’s because you have his cock pulsing from your sultry tone that leaves him shaking on the crux of his climax, or that he thinks you’re lying. Another deceitful line you give to all your paying customers.

“Shinazugawa-sama.” You breathe and Sanemi feels his Adam’s apple throb in his throat.

“Sanemi,” He growls, low and domineering, “I said call me Sanemi.”

“Sanemi.” You parrot, and the sound of it has his hips jerking sloppily as he fucks up into you, his name now sounded from your lips like a dull mantra, “Sanemi.”

Your hands are splayed across his chest as you try to keep your movements consistent, hips rolling against him as you ride his cock. Trying to commit the sight to memory as your eyes follow every line and scar that settles across his skin, soft fingertips following them as you ride him. An indication of just how powerful the man beneath you is, the man you’ve brought to his knees.

“Oh, fuck.” You sound out, and Sanemi thinks it’s cute the sound of such a vulgar word spilling from your sweet lips.

And Sanemi wants to make you make more sounds like that, to pull every one from your pretty throat and commit each one to memory. Remembering every saccharine lilt and coo as though he’s conducting his own debauched symphony. Sounds that will comfort him when he thinks of you, of this. He moves his hand from your hip, pressing a thumb against your pelvis before dipping lower. Stroking his digits through your messy slit, and when he touches your clit your body convulses. Hips bucking so wildly on contact his eyes are wide as though he’s done something wrong. Taking his hand to press his fingers back against it as you coax him into touching you there again.

Hunching over him as you try to keep your pace, your movements borderline pathetic as you chase the pleasure of his calloused thumb against your sensitive bud. His eyes watch you curiously as he speeds up the sloppy figure of eights he presses into it, feeling the way your cunt clenches around him in response.

“This is supposed to be for you.” You choke out, unused to your clients even thinking about your pleasure.

“Who says it’s not?” Sanemi scoffs; the sight of you like this is worth every damn penny Uzui is paying, “I want you to come undone for me.”

The dominant, commanding husk to his voice has your pelvis contorting as your body wills itself to unravel on command. Barely able to cry out his name as you find your release, your silky walls clamp down around his cock as they desperately try to milk him of his release. Your nails dig into muscular pectorals as you try to keep yourself upright, to hold onto the single thread of sanity you have left.

But Sanemi’s thumb doesn’t stop against your clit, following your jerky movements as your hips coil and spasm. Keeping his touch firm and persistent as he helps you ride out one climax to have you soaring towards another.

It’s too much, and you’re not sure you can handle it as your hands slip down to wrap around his wrist. Feebly trying to pull his grip away from your sloppy cunt as you watch the muscles in his arm tighten, veins popping out proudly as they fork towards his wrist. Practically snarling as he easily fights your weaker grip, “Don’t.”

And once again he throws you into ecstasy, your body trembling as another intense orgasm surges through your veins. Soaking his cock with your essence as you feel how wet and sloppy you are between your thighs, any friction dissipating as it’s all you can do but pathetically grind yourself against his finger while you ride out your bliss.

“Sanemi,” You whine, unable to hold yourself upright as you feel yourself falling forward onto his chest. Your face nuzzled into the junction of his neck as you trap his muscular arm between your bodies, his thumb still at your overstimulated clit as he gives it a few more lingering swipes, “S’too much.”

And Sanemi has to agree. It’s far too much, but also not enough at the same time. His cock throbs at the feeling of your drenched walls soaking him, fluttering in the aftershocks of your release as he’s certain he’s on the cusp of his own end. Slipping his arm from between your bodies in ease in favour of wrapping both arms around you, pinning you against his chest as he bends both his legs at the knee. Planting his feet on the hardwood floor for stability as he holds you against him.

He catches you by surprise as he begins to thrust up into you. His movements are chaotic and messy, with a deep-set sense of urgency as he chases his release. The sound of skin slapping against skin mixes with the syrupy wetness of your cunt that has your cheeks burning fiery red as you pant and whine against his neck. Mouthing at the thin layer of sweat that sticks to his skin, the salty taste of it mitigating on your tongue as you let him use you for his pleasure.

“Fuck, Sanemi.” Your voice sings out against the column of his throat and his hips give one more rugged jolt as he buries himself inside you to the hilt and coats your inner walls with balmy spurts of cum. The sensation causes heat to plume inside you as you indulge in the sensation as he gives a few more careless thrusts like he’s unable to stop his hips from jerking as he gives you everything he’s got left to give.

Sanemi’s eyes are blown wide, staring up at the ceiling as you move with the rise and fall of his chest. His arms still wound so tightly around you that you’re unable to move, left to bask in the warm afterglow as you cling to him. One of your hands braced against his sternum, feeling for the cadence of his racing heart.

“Are you okay?” You murmur softly when he hasn’t spoken for a while, and you’re met with a delicate kiss to your temple as he tightens his grip.

You’re certain you lay there for hours after, his warmth engulfing you as he traces gentle patterns against the expanse of your back while your fingers cord through his messy hair. Nails grazing against his skin while you feel the pleasure rumble deep in his chest, eyes heavy as sleep threatens to consume you. You shift above him slightly and whine pathetically as you feel his soft cock finally slip from your sloppy hole, the wetness unable to maintain a grip on him as you shudder at the cold air in the room cooling your molten cunt. His thick, potent seed begins to drip from your cunt into thick puddles on his pelvis and onto the floor as his arms tighten possessively around you for the smallest hint of a moment. As though he’d tricked himself into thinking that you were actually his, before realising his foolish mistake.

“I should go.” His voice rumbles, firm and authoritative. A sound that has you moving off him, despite your body’s plea to stay like this just a while longer.

“I hope you enjoyed yourself, Shinazugawa-sama.” You respond, watching as he begins to redress himself. Tucking his cock, still glazed with your drying slick, back into his pants.

You’d hoped he would correct you a final time. Telling you to call him by name as he buttoned the first few buttons of his shirt before tugging his haori back on, but the words don’t come.

You wonder whether it’s because he’s unsure what to say, lingering by the door as though he wants to turn back to give you a proper goodbye. Reaching down to grab your kimono to pull it back over your shoulders.

“Thank you.” He whispers before tugging at the door.

You were hoping it would feel a little less transactional, even though you were certain that this was all it was to him. A coldness now resides in the room that you’re certain you’d never felt before, an uncertain frost that bites away at the fierce burn of your heart. You have to remind yourself of the reason why you’re here, the reason why the Wind Hashira had chosen to lay with you.

The next morning you were surprised to find out just how much Sanemi had left behind that evening. Certain the payment was more than enough to settle your debts and free you from this existence, as you felt the fog of uncertainty that shrouded your time here begin to clear.

You’d hoped that he would’ve left some way to thank him, a forwarding address or at least a note to accompany the payment. But what you didn’t expect was for the Wind Pillar to be waiting at the dark purple curtains for you as you came down the stairs.

#sanemi smut #sanemi x reader #sanemi shinazugawa x reader #sanemi shinazugawa smut #kny x reader #kny smut #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer smut

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calicoheartz · 18 hours

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“Baby I” - Paige Bueckers♡

summary : jealous Paige Bueckers x reader !

wc ; 897

synopsis : inspired by the song “baby i” by Ariana Grande :) Paige’s jealousy often gets in the way of your relationship, so what happens when you interact with a particularly attractive stranger?

warning : angst , suggestive content , jealousy / possessiveness

my master list ㇀♡

a/n : look at me having a posting streak !! decided to try something new today, so I hope yall enjoy ◡̈

You and Paige had been dating for not too long, but your relationship had certainly developed into one where strong feelings and emotions played a huge factor in your everyday lives.

It was no secret to you that Paige was jealous, envious even; it caused you a fair share of problems throughout your relationship. Whether it was through jealous ridden comments, or snarky remarks, it was slowly starting to take a toll on you.

You and Paige were invited to go bar hopping with the team, as a celebration of the victorious win for Uconn. The free spirited and ambient environment encouraged you to let loose, encouraging you to not only grab a drink from the bar, but to strike up a couple of conversations with individuals around you.

It’s not that Paige didn’t want you to talk to other people, it’s just that when it comes to you; she’s very, how do I word this.. Overbearing? Whether it was constantly having her hands glued to your waist, peppering your face with kisses, or shooting bitter looks and whoever even dares to be just a little too friendly.

On this particular night, a very attractive character to say the least, approached you; beginning to start a simple conversation. Asking things like your name, complimenting your outfit, and overall trying to learn more about you

From across the room, you can see the blonde staring intensely at you, giving you a disapproving look; signaling you to end the conversation. You furrowed your brows and gave her a confused look back, not understanding how the conversation was moving south in any way.

You quickly turned back around, further continuing your conversation with the stranger, when all of a sudden you feel a harsh tug on your wrist. “It was nice meeting you, but we have to go.” And just like that, there you were, being dragged out of the bar by your girlfriend. Who seemed incredibly pissed.

The drive back home was unbearable, no words were exchanged between you two. The blonde never acknowledging you on your journey back home, knuckles white due to her intense grip on the steering wheel. You couldn’t tell if she was upset, disappointed, horny, or a mix of all 3.

As soon as you reached your apartment, your nerves were eating you alive. You had no idea what was waiting for you once you reached your apartment door.

You quickly hurried inside, and situated yourself on your shared couch. Waiting for her to say something. You felt your heart pounding, unable to even form coherent words. When you realized the endless silence, you simply muttered out a “I’m..sorry?.” Paige rolled her eyes at you, scoffing in the process. “YOU’RE sorry? They were practically throwing themselves at you and all you did was stand there and let them.” You were shocked, you knew Paige could take things the wrong way, but you never imagined her of all people would think you would be the type to do that.

“Paige…” you started. “You know I love you more than anything, but you know words can’t even touch what’s in my heart,” you continued. Your eyes now spilling out tears you tried your hardest to keep in.

“Then why don’t you ever tell me?”... “I feel like I’m constantly competing with others for your attention” This statement startled you, as you knew Paige was well aware of your difficulty to express yourself, let alone reassure others. Fuck. Oh how badly you wished the floor underneath you would simply collapse, giving you any sort of escape from the high tensioned conversation.

You felt as if you were to speak, your throat would simply close up. You managed to croak out.. “It’s just when I try to explain it, I be sounding insane. Sometimes it feels like the words don’t ever come out right.” She looks at you, her gaze softening a bit; as a reaction to your sudden vulnerability.

“It’s just I don’t know…the words just never come out right when it comes to you. You make me get all tongue tied and twisted, and I literally cannot explain what I’m feeling.” “Baby-” “No.” - you cut her off. Quickly feeling a rush of adrenaline run through you. “Yes, I should’ve been more clear and work on my communication, but you need to realize that not everyone is trying to sabotage our relationship. It’s exhausting. I can’t keep isolating myself due to your jealous fits of rage.”

Paige looks at you, tears welling in her eyes, threatening to spill out if she even mumbles out a word. She muttered a quiet “im sorry…”, her voice cracking at the last word, her eyes glued to the floor as she anticipated your response.

As if she were a magnet, you run towards her and wrap your arms around her tall frame, gently rubbing circles into your back as sobs slowly escape her lips. This entire thing had been a complete misunderstanding, and her jealousy blinded her judgment. Through her weeps you were able to make out “i love you. All i was trying to say is that youre my everything and-”

She wasnt even able to finish her sentence as she felt your warm lips on hers, entangling her in a deep and loving kiss. “If that doesnt show you that i love you, i dont know what will”

not sure how to feel about this tbh, originally i was gonna give this a sad ending but since the song is a love song, it didn’t feel fitting. Lmk ur thoughts !! Thanks for reading ◡̈

#Spotify #wlw #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #wcbb x reader #wcbb #wlw imagine #wlw post #ariana grande #arianator

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rynfiles · 18 hours

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imperfect for you !

✎ᝰ — gojo, the broken man with a lover to fix him up :)

★ — gojo x reader

★ — genre + warnings: fluff with just a pinch of angst + no warnings :)

★ — a/n: i love eternal sunshine so much, yall please save me from this album

SATORU GOJO is in love with the way that you dont hide yourself from him. you show no fear when you first met him as one of the greatest sorcerers to ever exist and you still don’t to this day. you see him as human, something he always craved throughout human affection

SATORU GOJO is in love with that to you, he’s just satoru gojo. he’s not the satoru gojo the strongest or satoru gojo, one of the greatest sorcerers to exist. you see him as satoru gojo, a man who has gone through so much, a man who doesn’t wanna be worshipped, he wants to be loved

SATORU GOJO is in love with that you accept that he’s not nearly as perfect as people point him out to be. he’s broken, he’s full of shame, he’s full of regret, he’s scared, he can be cold, but still loved by you. he knows when his brain start planting ideas that he’s too dangerous for you, he can find comfort in you to wash away those ideas

SATORU GOJO is in love with the your hand holds his, a simple squeeze when you see his face soften but not in a good way. he’s incredibly touched by the way you can calm his mind down when his mental becomes negative

SATORU GOJO is in love with the way your beautiful lips can reassure him that he’s perfect just the way he is, there’s no change he needs to make unless necessary

SATORU GOJO is in love with the way he can stay half asleep while you explain your love to him. his eyelids half covering his cerulean eyes, they open and close showing that he’s close to his slumber but doesn’t wanna give in. he wants to hold your hand and hum as your face lights up to his presence

SATORU GOJO is in love with you not being perfect just as much as he isn’t. but in his world, you are perfect, you’re complete. your love completes his world when everything is peaceful, no monsters to hide you from, no wonders or worries on whether or not either of you will make it home

𖥻 so guess my new hyperfixation 😁

𖥻 yall i love gojo so much, like its actually so sick how much i love him. he deserves the world and i wanna kiss all his worries away :(

𖥻 bye babes, drink your water and I love you MWAH 💕

#* 🎧🫧 ⌗ 𓏲 „ ˋmia is writing !#anime x black reader #anime x black!reader #anime fluff #jjk fluff #jjk x black reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo x black reader #gojo x black!reader #satoru gojo x black reader #satoru gojo x black!reader #satoru gojo fluff #gojo fluff #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo headcanons #satoru gojo headcanons

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thebestofoneshots · 18 hours

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Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 10.7 K Warnings: ANGST! Use of the unforgivables, bIood, major and minor character dеath, major sad moments, mental breakdowns, taking characters to their breaking point, pain, griеf… I’m really sorry. Prompt: What happens when you hear something dreadful happening, will you stand up for what's right? Will you stay quiet for the greater good? This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by lovely: @aremuslupinsimp

A/N: This chapter is getting shadowbanned no matter what I change so please like, reblog and comment so it does not go under the radar.

Chapter 44: No One But You

A hand above the water An angel reachin' for the sky Is it raining in Heaven? Do you want us to cry?

Where the hell is the alcohol in this party? You wondered as you stepped out of the room, dealing with Arkalis and Evan was more than enough for the rest of the night. If only you could find a corner, pull out a book and focus on that without being bothered by anything or anyone else, you’d be satisfied. Of course, that could not be the case, could it?

“Well look who’s here?” Barty said with a smile as he blocked your path.

“Oh, Barty!” you said as you tilted your head. “You should probably go look for Evan, he seemed like he needed… a friend.”

Barty’s eyes seemed to burn when you spoke, but you stood your ground, even as he approached you with ferocity. He might be as tall as you were, even if younger, and he might have been able to overpower you in the past, but he was not about to make a scene in the middle of the party, he wasn’t dumb, he had never been. And clearly, he wasn’t important enough for the deatheater clique to be at the private dinner, he didn’t need unwanted attention.

“If you did something to him again…” he said, voice low and threatening.

You blinked calmly at him, “Barty… in this party, you should be careful with the things that come out of your mouth.” He grabbed onto your wrist, anger clearly seething from him. “I didn’t touch him,” you said as you looked down at his hand and then back at his face, “I’d suggest you’d have the decency of doing the same.”

Then you felt a hand on your shoulder, Barty finally let go of his hold on you but stayed in his place, glaring now at the person standing behind you.

“And I would suggest you turn the fuck away before I hex you again. Remember where you are Crouch. This might be Arkalis’ dinner, but my father was the one to invite Tom here.”

Barty gave you another look of hatred and then stormed off. You sighed and turned back to look at Regulus.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, eyebrows softly knit in concern.

“No,” you said as you shook your head and moved your hand a little bit, it was the same arm Evan had latched onto you earlier, but frankly, after having fallen from your broom, punched by bludgers, dragged by water spirits and scratched by werewolves, this felt like nothing. “Is there Firewhiskey here?”

“Firewhiskey?” Regulus asked in disbelief. “You want to drink?”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve never sneaked out Firewhiskey from your father’s stash.” Regulus gave you a look in return that was answer enough. “So, you’ve never drunk?”

He shook his head and you laughed at that, “Such a good boy,” you teased. In response, Regulus pushed you to the side, which only made you laugh a little more. “Let’s find some,” you said with a smile, Regulus tilted his head to the side disapprovingly.

“It’s a terrible idea to do it here,” he responded.

“Come on, Reg, there’s no way you want to see whatever the hell those people consider to be a show, do you?”

Regulus averted your gaze, and you narrowed your eyes at him. Does he know something…

A glass of cold water over your dress diverted your thoughts. “Oh, sorry,” the girl said, she had a streak of white hair pulled back behind her ears and looked far from being sorry.

Your dress was black, so whatever she had poured, certainly didn’t ruin the look, even if it was fucking freezing you now, “Whatever, I’ll just use a drying spell,” you said as you pulled your wand out and waved it over your dress.

“You’re Silas’ daughter, aren’t you? You were sitting next to Lucius at the dinner.”

You turned to her with a small frown, she was the girl talking to Barty earlier, the one that looked like Sirius and Regulus. You extended your hand politely, “I’m afraid I don’t know who you are.”

She seemed irritated at your lack of recognition. “This is my cousin Narcissa, Cygnus’ daughter,” Reggie said, introducing her to you.

Cygnus’ daughter… Where had you heard that name? Right, Andromeda’s sister, you thought. You hadn’t spoken much to Andromeda Tonks, though Sirius and Remus had shown you some of her letters. As far as you knew, she had been kicked out of the family in the same way Sirius had, and her sisters had done nothing to help them. But then again, Regulus hadn’t helped Sirius either and you didn’t hate him for that.

“Nice to meet you,” you added, she gave you a look before actually shaking your hand.

“You’re dating Sirius,” she added, her tone making it clear that she looked down on you for it.

“Cissy,” Regulus said in a warning tone.

“I am, he’s delightful, you should know since you grew up together.”

She scoffed. “Sirius is a disaster. He would always spark chaos and make stupid pranks on the parties, I’m glad he’s not invited anymore. He wears that awful leather jacket all the time, pretending to be a muggle or whatever and he’s insufferably loud.”

“All of which I find absolutely charming,” you replied with a nonchalant smile, “You do not?”

Cissy, as Regulus called her, scoffed again. “Just stay away from Lucius,” she added before leaving you and Regulus behind in favour of talking with someone else, her long hair flipping behind her in a rather majestic way that you would have praised had she not been a total bitch to Sirius. It must be in their genes, you thought, the Blacks have amazing hair.

You turned to him with a raised eyebrow. “The hell was that about?”

“Lucius is her fiancé, she must have seen you talking to him at the dinner,” Regulus said. “You… looked very interested in whatever he was telling you.”

“Oh, that?” You asked with a smile that turned into a smirk, “I was trying to piss Evan off.”

“I figured.”

“Not sure if I should take that as a compliment or an offence.” Regulus raised his eyebrows at you and you gasped in disbelief. Then you spotted someone serving themselves a drink over in the far corner, it was the bar. You smirked, “Come on Reg, I’ll teach you how to drink.”

“I don’t need to–”

“Just come,” you added and pulled him along with you, you managed to convince the house elf there to give you a half-empty bottle of Fire Whiskey after telling them Arkalis had asked you to take them to him and pulled Reggie along towards a balcony.

“It’s cold,” he said as the two of you stepped out, you could see the puff of condensed air blowing from his mouth as he spoke.

“This’ll warm you up,” you said as you offered him the bottle. He gave you an exasperated look that was an awful lot like Sirius’ but took the bottle in his hands anyway, taking a small sip and scrunching up his face as he felt the bitter taste. Then he coughed and covered his mouth with his arm as he returned the bottle to you with a disgusted frown, you were laughing so much it took you a second to lean closer to him and place your hand on his back. “You all right?”

“No wonder they call it Firewhiskey,” he said as he managed to catch his breath. You laughed again, still rubbing your hand over his back, he shook his head as he stood straight. He was a deal taller than you now, it hadn’t quite settled back in school, but it was evident now. “Why would you even drink it?”

“Do you not feel warmer?” you asked as with a raised eyebrow, he seemed to think about it for a second. You were now taking your own sip of the bottle.

“A warming spell would for sure do the trick.”

You sighed and leaned over to look at the sky, you could see Sirius’ star up there, shiny and beautiful, just like him. Walburga and Orion might have been awful, but they definitely had a good eye for picking out names, even if they were just copying those of the stars.

“Yeah, but it would take away the fun,” you said, head still tilted up and looking at the sky. You heard a few whispers from the inside, and you leaned your head over the window, there were people crowding a certain area of the room. Regulus stepped in between you and the window.

“How’s school going?”

You gave him a look, that was a stupid question.

“I mean, I saw you at the Slug Party, you’ve been doing good at potions, haven’t you?” he pressed.

“Haven’t I?” you asked with a frown, allowing your gaze to turn back to him. “It’s all thanks to my partner, he’s really good?”

“Sirius?” Regulus asked, he had never heard of his brother being remarkably good at potions.

“What? No, my potions partner, Remus.”

“Ah… of course,” he said, now he had heard how good his brother’s best friend was. He was even a prefect.

“But I’m shit at transfiguration,” you said with a shrug. “I don’t think Minnie and Horace are friends enough to discuss such things, though.”

“I could teach you,” he offered.

“Thanks, but I’ve already got a tutor.” You tilted your head to the side to try and see inside and then he moved, blocking your line of sight again. “Regulus?”

“Yeah?” he asked, playing dumb.

“You know what’s happening there, don’t you?”

He swallowed thickly, “Nothing you should be concerned about, it’s adult stuff.” You shook your head as that and motioned to move inside but he stopped you again. “Please!” He sounded desperate. “Let’s stay here, and drink a bit more, I’m… I’m not looking forward to seeing my parents again.”

You sighed, you knew how delicate it was for both Regulus and Sirius to deal with Walburga and Orion, and perhaps you shouldn’t have listened, you should have followed your instinct and walked inside, but there was something about the pleading expression Regulus had made that convinced you. You huffed out a breath and turned back to him. “How’s school for you? Messing with Severus didn’t put you on the spot, did it?”

Regulus shook his head and carefully moved to the side, pulling his wand from his pocket and secretly casting a spell towards the doors so the sounds from the inside wouldn’t filter to the outside. You were looking at his face, so determined to figure out his emotions that you failed to notice what he was doing.

“Not at all,” he responded. “Severus thinks it was all your fault.”

You pouted at that, “How could it even be my fault, he’s the one that ate the snacks, I didn’t even offer them to him.”

Regulus laughed at that, “So you had nothing to do? No emotional manipulation involved?”

“What do you take me for? A housemate?”

“Haven’t you been saying you ‘missed the whole indoctrination’ part by getting to Hogwarts so late?”

“Doesn’t change the fact the snakes can be very manipulative. You know the muggles think they’re to blame for losing paradise.”

Regulus huffed as he shook his head, he was just proving your point right then and there, “Well, I’ve never met a snake with ‘Vixen’ as a nickname.”

“You know about that?” you asked in disbelief. “How do you even know about that?”

“The entire school knows about that! Potter isn’t exactly subtle when he calls you. To be honest, I thought he was pissed the first time I heard it, and then I was surprised you weren’t insulted by it.”

“It’s an inside joke.”

“I could tell,” he responded and then smirked, almost imperceptibly, “I think it fits.”

“Ass,” you said with a laugh and pushed him lightly. He laughed along with you.

Talking with Regulus was fun, he told you more about the Slytherin common room, he mentioned seeing the giant squid through their window once when he was in his second year studying for a quiz late at night, and he told you about the time he had done the quidditch trials, back when Dorcas was still in the team. He asked you about the race, and you told him that’s when you and Sirius got together.

You also told him about some of the fun things you had done with the boys, like picnics near the lake and even sneaking out at night to get books from the forbidden section. He asked you to teach him the disillusionment charm one day, and you promised you would.

While the rest of his family was a piece of work, you thought Regulus had come out as nice as Sirius, even if a little more stuck up. You didn’t mind though, it was part of his own charm. He’d make a great brother-in-law…

“And then Solacis added the last ingredient of the potion, and it blew up on their faces…” he told you with a smile, mimicking the explosion with his own hands. The alcohol had warmed his cheeks and made him a lot more expressive by now. You laughed along with him.

“Yeah? And what did Slughorn do?”

“Nothing, he was being distracted by Nox so they wouldn’t fail the both of us,” he explained. “Nox added dragon breath to his potion and it clogged the entire classroom with purple smoke.”

“For real?”

He nodded excitedly, it was nice to see Regulus more relaxed, “Nox thought it was amazing and tried switching the ingredients around, he now knows how to make smoke of almost any colour, we’ve used it on parties so many times since then.”

“I had no idea Nox was that into potions…”

“Oh, he loves them! Slughorn doesn’t like him too much though, he’s always doing his own experiments in the back of the classroom instead of focusing on the class, and often ends up changing the potions around and–” a harrowing scream cut through his words.

Your head snapped towards the inside and Regulus blinked a couple of times. His spell! It had worn out.

But I’m not that drunk, he thought, he was certainly having fun, but that was just a consequence of hanging out with you.

“What the hell was that?” you asked as you looked inside, but he stood in between you and the door in a second.

You gave Regulus a stern look but he shook his head really fast, he looked nervous, like a kid that had done something terrible and didn’t want his parents to find out.

“Regulus,” you said as you tried to look over his shoulder, but he moved to block your sight again. “Regulus, what’s going on?”

“Nothing. You… you don’t want to know, just trust me.” It was more a plea than anything else.

You took a step back, “Have you been distracting me?”

Regulus swallowed and then nodded, “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” You asked, voice dry.

“I don’t want you to see what’s happening in there.”

“And…”

“Your mum might have implied I’d be better this way as well.”

You nodded, you weren’t angry at Regulus, at this point you understood why he did most of the things he did, and you knew whatever he was doing now, it was because he wanted to protect you from his parents and whatever it was they were doing.

“Will you tell me what’s happening inside?”

“Will you promise not to enter if I do?”

You sighed, “You know I cannot do that, Reg.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“Yeah?! For me or for the person screaming?”

“If you do anything reckless–”

You squared your shoulders, determined. “Regulus, let me in.”

He didn’t move. You tried to move to the side and he moved along with you, effectively blocking your way again, you scoffed, slightly exasperated.

“Regulus, I–” You were interrupted by another harrowing screaming, and then a silence so eerie it chilled your very bones. You looked at him, straight in the eyes, his eyes were red-rimmed and shiny, you were about to ask him what the hell was going on when a cheer erupted from the inside. All of the wizards were clapping, as if whatever had happened was cause for celebration.

Regulus winced at that which only made you worry more about what was happening inside.

“You don’t need to see that, trust me,” he repeated. Thunder came from above and then a smokey green skull appeared in the sky. There was a snake protruding from its mouth, slowly swirling around the skull. You swallowed, you knew exactly what that was, Seraphina had shown you pictures, and she had told you that one of the reasons they’d cast that spell was because… they had just murdered a muggle.

You swallowed thickly, the scream, the silence, the cheering. It all made sense now. They had been tоrturing someone and you had been distracted, you weren’t even given the chance to stop it. But then again, could you have stopped it? One person –nay, a 6th year– against an entire army of deatheaters, you might have been a good duelist, but you weren’t narcissistic enough to believe you could take them all down by yourself

Perhaps it really was better to be out here, avoiding the reality that was inside and hanging out with the one person in this entire party that you’d actually want to talk to. You didn’t appreciate being tricked, you hated that Regulus had decided to keep you in the dark, but at the same time, you were thankful. He had spared you from having to witness whatever horrors were being committed inside.

You were just a kid, why was it your responsibility to stop it? Why was it your war to fight? It was fucking unfair.

“Trust me,” Regulus said, “stay here, it’s better this way.”

You swallowed, and there was another scream, you shut your eyes and turned your gaze to the side, you could feel tears prickling in your eyes.

“It’s not your fault, you won’t be able to do anything, even if you witness it.”

You turned back to look at him, your teeth pressed so hard against each other it hurt, “They’re kiIling muggles,” you whispered.

Regulus sighed, his eyes were just as glassy as yours, “We can’t do anything about it.”

You huffed and looked at nowhere in particular. There was another scream, and then another one, and then there was silence and cheers. You sank down to the floor, the snake in the sky was still crawling around. Your breath was slow and controlled as if you were trying to keep it together. The first scream, you couldn’t have blamed yourself for it. The first one out? You had no idea. But this one?

You already knew what was happening and chose to stay outside with Regulus. You chose to ignore it and an innocent had diеd. Were you any different from your father now? He had sacrificed Sirius and Regulus for his political means –and he hadn’t even gotten them kiIled– and now you were letting those innocent people diе.

For what? To be the perfect daughter? To play the part they asked you to play and then pretend like nothing had happened? To write a letter to Nightshade and Dumbledore telling them everything that had happened tonight and becoming a valuable asset? A spy? Was that what you wanted to be? Was that what you were meant to do? Was it worth it to let all these people diе, in order to win the war in the future? Were lives exchangeable like that? One life for a hundred, does that… make it worth it?

There was another harrowing scream and then silence and then more cheers. You dug your head on your knees.

You

Were

Heinous

As much as you considered your father to be.

Was stopping a war, winning a war, any different from the way he coveted power? Was it any difference in doing things for the greater good to doing things for power if the casualties were exactly the same? People were dying, and you were too much of a coward to do anything about it. Hiding behind a mask of righteousness and pretending it was all for the greater good –It was, but it didn’t feel right.

Sacrificing innocents was never okay, not even for the greater good, and yet… you were here, crouching on the floor, and wishing you were somewhere else, wishing you hadn’t heard that first scream, and that Regulus was still telling you about Nox and how good he was in potions and so on. You wanted to feel like things were normal, like there wasn’t a war; like you were a normal teen, not one being trained to be a soldier, a spy, a warrior.

Was it selfish to wish for all of this to go away? To wish to be elsewhere? Were you selfish? And if you were then, for what?

For letting innocents diе or for wishing you were ignorant about it?

There it was, the eerie silence again. And then a wicked laugh. “Would you look at that? the little witch has claws?”

The what she said?

You turned your head to Regulus and the look he gave you in return made you instantly know that whatever was going on inside was as much of a surprise to him as it was to you.

“Reg wha– What does she mean by witch?”

“I–” he stuttered and turned to look back, there wasn’t much he could see, except for Bella’s black hair bouncing around as she said something else. “I’m not sure but–”

“Filthy mudblood!” the same voice roared and then there were screams.

But there was something about those screams, they were different from the rest… And not because it was a witch but because… you gasped when the realisation hit you –you knew that person.

“Nina,” you whispered.

“What?” Regulus asked, confused.

“That’s Nina!” you repeated as you stood up and tried to get inside.

Regulus squared his shoulders to block your path, and then gently placed his hand on your arm, “There’s nothing you can do, forget it.”

“They have kilIed muggles, Regulus. What’s stopping them from doing the same thing to her?”

Regulus shook his head, “You cannot intervene, even if you know her.”

“Even if I– Regulus, Nina’s my friend! Like you, like James! I would intervene for you, even if it did nothing.”

“It would be stupid,” he replied, there were tears in his eyes, you could tell his mental struggle ran as deep as yours.

“If it were me, would you just wait and let me diе?”

Regulus closed his mouth, looking down while not being able to give you an answer. You weren’t sure you wanted to hear it either way.

“Let me through, please.”

“I wouldn’t let you diе,” he said, panic filling his voice, he felt like he had to reassure you, he wasn’t the evil one here, he just wanted to protect you. “But I’ve known you for years, you’re my brother’s girlfriend, it’s different,” his voice was filled with panic.

“It’s not different for me,” you said as you shook your head, a sombre tone adorning your words.

“I can’t let you go in,” he replied, his voice breaking towards the end. “I’m sorry.”

You pulled him into a hug, you could sense him relax into your hug the second you did. She understands, he thought.

“I’m sorry too,” you whispered with a sad smile, he didn’t have enough time to react, “Petrificus totalus.”

You caught him as he fell, his entire body leaning onto yours as you tried to hold him from hitting the ground. Regulus was a lot heavier than he looked but you managed to open the door again and drag him back inside. You smiled awkwardly at the person who spotted the two of you and lifted the bottle as an excuse. If they thought Reggie was passed out drunk, they wouldn’t think you’d charmed him to get in. The person nodded as if completely understanding and you dragged Reggie to a chair.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered again, accommodating him to look asleep.

And then you walked as fast as you could towards her screams.

It took all your strength not to break down at the sight, there were people –not people, their bodies– on the floor. They weren’t covered with bIood or anything like that, it wasn’t gory, it was just… harrowing. At least 7 of them, all of them on the floor, horrified expressions on their faces. They probably had no idea why they were there and had been hexed and tоrtured till the light escaped his eyes.

The scene enraptured you so much the screams in the background almost faded out, especially when you saw someone you instantly recognized. The lady at Kings Cross, the one that had hugged Nina, she was there too, you sobbed. You had allowed that to happen, you had allowed them to kilI Nina’s mum because you were too scared to intervene.

“Crucio!” you heard the woman scream again.

You turned your face away from them and towards the turmoil, there were many people crowding around her and Nina, so many that you could barely see the top of her blonde hair, and the only reason you knew Nina was still there was because of her screams. You spotted Tom, Arkalis and the man you now knew as Rodolphus Lestrange all sitting and chatting at a faraway table as if none of it was happening. Tom would often turn to see what was going on, smile and then go back to the conversation with a pleased expression.

You shuddered and tried to find a way through the people. You had to push a few wizards around and got an angry elbow shoved in the rib at some point but you pressed on. Eventually, you reached the edge of the circle, and you had to hold back the tears threatening to spill out as your young friend squirmed, her long hair sprawled all over the floor, and tears in her eyes. She had her mouth determinedly closed and her brows furrowed, she was trying to resist screaming again, all to avoid giving the woman the satisfaction.

“I’ll find a way to help you,” you mumbled as you looked around for possible solutions. If you had had more time perhaps you could have used a mist bomb to create a commotion, if you had more time to think of a solution, perhaps you would have burned the curtains down with incendio or caused some other kind of distraction to drive people away from Nina and sneak her out. But you had no time, and your mind was filled with the stress of seeing poor Nina on the floor, with that heart-wrenching expression on her face, and the soft whimpers that she couldn’t help but let out as she continued holding her cries and the woman with curly hair twisted her wand to inflict more pain.

If you had acted earlier, if you hadn’t let fear and cowardice drive you away from the incident, perhaps things wouldn’t have ended up the way they had, but you had been selfish, and you were now facing the consequences of your own decisions, them being mainly the mental strain and the stupidity of the action you were about to commit.

“CRUCIO!” the woman shrieked again. “Come on luv, don’t be shy, we want to hear your cries.”

She twisted her wand and Nina let out an agonising cry. This can’t continue, she’s not gonna last.

“Come on little mudblood, cry louder!” the woman said, enjoying herself so much you felt like you wanted to puke. “Entertain us!”

You stepped forward, “Stop!” You shouted.

The woman turned to you and, surprised you had spoken and twisted her wand again, Nina cried, but the moment she spotted you, there was a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

You raised your wand at her, “I said STOP!”

“Silas’ daughter?” she asked, clearly diverted. “Thought you were snogging my little cousin Regulus somewhere in a corner.”

You held her gaze, “Last warning,” you added.

She laughed haughtily in return, “You think you could do anything to me? What are you? A 4th year?”

You were so focused on the woman and Nina, that you weren’t paying attention to the things surrounding you, at least you had gotten her attention enough to have her stop torturing Nina, who was now struggling to catch her breath.

In the far corner, Orion and Tom had turned to look at the scene with a perturbing interest, as if they wanted to see the bIoodshed that your stupid disobedience would cause. Evan had gripped onto Barty’s forearm and pulled him away from the circle and both of your parents were rushing towards you as fast as you could, but the crowd, which seemed just as interested in the situation, was making it harder for them to reach you.

“None of your fucking business,” you replied. She turned her wand back to Nina and you stepped in her way in two long strides, she laughed again.

“You’re a Gryffindor, aren’t you? There’s no way a Slytherin would be so recklessly stupid.”

“Let her go,” you said sternly. “She’s a witch, just like you.”

The woman laughed again. “She’s as much of a witch as the rest of them,” she said with a smile and pointed at the pile of bodies behind her, “Muggle-borns are abominations that shouldn’t exist. So weak they need real wizards to defend them, don’t they, Luv?” She said the last bit looking at Nina, she was still on the ground, eyes shiny with unshed tears but she held her head high.

“I’m only making things even,” you replied, “do you really feel superior when you need thirty-plus wizards for torturing a 14-year-old?”

The woman scoffed, “Do you even know who you’re talking to?”

“No, but I bet I can guess,” you replied. “Dark curly hair, pretty but dеadly, a little crazy –I assume due to inbreeding– and you were sitting next to Rodolphus, which makes you one of Cygnus’ daughters. I met Narcissa today, and you’re definitely not Andromeda, which leaves out… Saiph? No wait, wrong star, it’s Bella, isn’t it?”

She gave you a deranged smile, “Bellatrix.”

“Yeah, whatever,” you responded. “Now let’s leave this nonsense behind, and–”

“Crucio,” she said pointing her wand behind you, Nina cried again.

“Stop!” you shrieked. “Confringo!”

Bella barely managed to stop your spell and turned to you with rage, “Can someone take care of her?” she asked to no one in particular. Suddenly there were several wands pointing your way, but no one cast a spell. No one was brave enough to attack Silas’ daughter directly.

Bella smiled and pointed her wand towards you, “Expelliarmus,” she said with a smile, your wand left your hand faster than you could react.

She gave you a wicked grin as she pointed her wand at Nina again. She looked like she couldn’t take another moment of it, and you were running out of ideas. “Stop! I have a better prey for you.”

Your father said your name sternly as if he could read your thoughts.

You ignored it completely, “Why bother with a muggle-born when you could be torturing someone who’s mixed-race.”

Your father screamed your name again, but Bella seemed interested enough to lower her wand and look at you, she wanted to know whose life you’d propose instead of Nina’s.

“A mixed-race you said? Whoever could that be?”

“Me!” you said and took a short breath, “I’m part-fairy.” Several gasps echoed in the room followed by whispers of the crowd.

“She’s lying!” your father spat.

“I am not!” You added quickly.

“She’s trying to buy time.”

“I can prove it!” you said desperately. “Use diffindo,” you told one of the people next to you.

“Do not dare to touch my daughter!” your father roared.

You looked around, trying to find Barty or Evan, since you knew neither of them would think twice before hurting you, but they were nowhere to be seen. Worst time to be fucking absent, you thought. No one dared to do it.

“Fine then, bunch of cowards,” you said looking around before bringing your arm to your mouth. You had never done this, but you had practised half transfigurations, you focused all your energy on your mouth and managed to turn your canines into Vixen’s, and then you bit onto your skin and dragged your arm, slicing through it, you didn’t even wince.

“That proves nothing,” Your father said. He was still trying to reach where you were.

“No, it doesn’t,” you responded. You could feel the metallic taste of your bIood in your mouth, you wondered if you looked as deranged as Bella did now. “But this will,” you said and focused your gaze on the cut you’d made, “Revelio.”

A single drop of bIood fell from your arm, everyone witnessed it change colour and clash onto the ground in a shiny, silver drop. There was another collective gasp. Bellatrix cackled and your father looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite pinpoint, a mix of desperation, rage and disappointment.

“Well, well, well,” a voice boomed from the back of the room, “what an interesting little plot twist.” The crowd parted to allow the dark lord to walk towards the centre of the room, he seemed pleasantly entertained. “Silas,” he said as he turned to your dad calmly. “Anything you care to explain?”

You turned to your father, being thankful that everyone’s attention had turned the other way, and looking for someone distracted enough for you to do your next move.

Your father was about to say something but was quickly interrupted by your mother, “He didn’t know! I lied to him.”

Your head snapped back towards them, Why is she–?

“Is that true? Silas?”

Your father stood straighter, looking indifferent. “I had no idea,” he lied blatantly, “I wouldn’t be married if I did.”

“That’s a bunch of bullshit–”

“Silence child,” you were interrupted by the dark lord who was staring at your dad with interest, he hadn’t said the words to the spell, but your tongue was tied, and you couldn’t emit a word anymore either, “the adults are talking.”

You moved towards them when you realised you wouldn’t be able to speak. “Incarcerus,” Tom’s voice boomed and a set of ropes appeared from thin air, binding you to the spot you were currently on. His spell was much stronger than Evan’s had been, it was as if the more you moved the more the ropes tightened around your arms, digging into your skin sharply. Tom turned to your mother. “Elaborate.”

“I met him, I knew he wouldn’t like me if he knew of my heritage so I lied and hid it from him.”

“Well, I find this is the perfect little set-up for you to prove your loyalty,” Tom said with a simple smile. “Torture her.”

What? You thought, head snapping towards your mother sharply, forgetting about the ropes entirely.

Your mother and father exchanged a look, your mom nodded, almost imperceptibly, and then your father raised his wand against her, “Crucio.”

There was a wicked laugh from Bellatrix as your mother sank to the ground and started screaming. You stared at the scene as if petrified. If there was something you had never doubted in the past, it was the love your parents had for each other. How could he– how was it even…

You turned back to the ropes and started to desperately fight against them. When you realised it wasn’t working you went for plan B, you turned into Vixen and jumped as fast as possible, snatching a random wizard’s wand from their hands as you turned back.

Of all the terrible ideas you’d had today, this might have been the worst. You barely had enough control over the spell with your own wand, but you had to do something. You took a deep breath and pointed your wand at Bellatrix, “Pestis Incendium.”

A giant fire exploded out of the tip of the wand you had stolen, prompting the people around you to step back several metres as the fire turned into a massive Chimera. Fiendfyre was a dark and dangerous spell, and you had only practised it in a controlled environment with Nightshade watching your back. But the Chimera you had formed now was bigger and angrier than anything you’d ever created, she was dеadly. The massive winged lion-goat was burning everything in its way as people ran to the sides and attempted to apparate the hell away from the room.

But Evan’s house was charmed against apparitions, a few of them were caught in the fire as they attempted to run, others tried to fight against it, with water spells, but they seemed to do nothing against the angry beast you’d created. The heat quickly filled the room, smoke from burning things wafting through the air and making it harder to see. You searched for your mother, but you couldn’t spot her at all, so you turned back to Nina who was looking at you with an awed struck expression. You picked up a wand from the floor and handed it over to her before helping her up and casting a disillusionment charm around the two of you.

“We need to get out,” you whispered, as you grabbed onto her hand and pulled her along with you. You sped through the running crowds as the curtains and furniture started to catch on fire and remembered you had left Regulus petrified.

You ran towards him, pulling Nina alongside you and finding him still unconscious in the place you’d left him. “Finite Incantatem!” you said and Regulus opened his eyes hastily. He looked around confused and opened his eyes wide when he spotted the giant Chimera behind you, being even more confused when it completely ignored him and turned to the other side. You grabbed onto his arm, leaving traces of bIood over his white shirt, “Get out!”

“What?” he asked, confused.

“I won’t be able to control it for much longer, get out!” you repeated and pushed him towards the window before you pulled Nina to the side again.

She used her wand and started hexing people as you sped through the crowd and toward the window behind the snack area. If you could reach the hedge maze, you’d have enough time to think of a better way to get the hell away from there.

Finally, you spotted your mum again, she was right in front of the Chimera, using relashio in an attempt to slow her down. You raised your want towards your fiendfyre to drag it away from her but there was a spell cast in your direction.

“Stupefy!” Bellatrix said as you fell to the ground, you lost control over the Chimera completely and the beast used one of its paws to crush your mother. You could hear your father’s scream ringing in your ears alongside yours, followed by a sob as tears welled up in your eyes. Bellatrix smiled, “Well, well, well, would you look at that, one little fae gone, and one to go,” she said as she pointed her wand towards you.

You were on the floor, still trying to get a grasp of the situation and attempting to gain control over the Chimera again but it was pointless, she was doing whatever she wanted. Bellatrix smiled and raised her wand towards you, “Avada–”

“Crucio,” Nina shrieked next to you, and Bellatrix instantly fell to the ground, with a cry. Nina’s curse was so strong that the woman continued to scream madly as she pulled onto her hair. “CRUCIO!” Nina repeated. You looked at her in amazement and she gave you a half smile, fear hidden behind her eyes. “She’s not going to touch you ever again,” she reassured and extended her hand your way, you took it and she helped you up. “Ferrum Incarcerus,” she said and suddenly a set of chains bound Bellatrix Lestrange, “Flagrante,” she said next and the woman started to cry in pain as the chains started to heat up and burn. “Call me a Mudblood again, you bitch!” Nina spat, and you recast the disillusionment charm around the both of you.

Clutching to each other you walked all the way to the snack table “Bombarda!” you shouted, the window blew into pieces, and your Chimera went wild, growing wider and wider. You looked back once more, Bellatrix was still crying over the chains. There was a tall man, Cygnus, you assumed, trying to help her out of them, but Nina’s spell was strong and whatever he was doing wasn’t working properly.

You spotted your father clutching the burned remnants of your mom and you stared at the scene almost petrified. You had done that, you had murdered her.

Nina looked at you with tears in her eyes and decided to avoid staring at the pile where she knew her mother’s body would be, focusing on you, and on getting the hell away from that damned hellhole you’d ended up in.

“Come on,” she pulled onto your arm. “We have to go, come on!”

“That–” you said, still looking, the Chimera was bigger now, angrier. “They’re gone.”

“I know,” she said somberly, but then the urgency came back to her, “Come on, they’d want us to get out!” she added as she pulled onto your arm again, this time much stronger, you didn’t move at all. “Hey, look at me!” she added and grabbed your head in between her hands to force you to look at her, Nina might have been younger, but she seemed so much wiser than you at that moment. “This is awful. Things are awful, and it’s unfair. But two things are true: It was not your fault, and we need to get out.”

You tilted your head to the side, she didn’t know, she didn’t know you had ignored her mother’s cries. Tears welled up in your eyes as you nodded, what a terrible person you were. “Okay,” you managed to say and allowed Nina to pull you alongside her and both of you managed to exit through the window.

The cold was the first thing you noticed, white snow melting into puddles close to the house due to the fire. Messy mud on the floor making the pristine white layer of snow look brown and messy.

There were already Wizards outside, Regulus stood next to his mother and Narcissa, who kept looking inside as if waiting for someone to come out as well. Reggie too was looking around nervously, the last time he saw you, you were still inside and things were chaos.

You took a small stone and threw it towards him, when he turned around you said “Vermillious,” and from the tip of the wand you had stolen, faint red sparks appeared. People weren’t looking your way, and they had been so faint that they were nothing in comparison to the amount of light that came from your blazing Fiendfyre, but you saw Regulus smile and nod your way. You turned to Nina, somehow much more composed than seconds ago. “You like puzzles, don’t you?” you asked her as you nodded towards the hedge maze.

She smiled and gave you a nod, “Let’s get out of here,” she added, and the two of you walked inside. You ran through the maze, staying as close to each other as possible, and jumping from dеad end to dеad end. It truly was a headache, but Nina was as determined to get out as you were, so you followed her lead and continued walking behind her.

“We can’t be too far from the way out, the magic stopping us from apparating is losing power the deeper we go, can you feel it?”

“Yes,” you replied with a smile, and end to the nightmare, finally.

“You can apparate already, right?”

“Kind of,” you replied. “I mean, yes,” you reassured, you’d figure out a way, you’d both get out, you had to.

“Finite incantatem,” someone said when you rounded a corner, and both you and Nina raised your wands against him.

“Would you look at that, charming little butterfly and her mudblood friend,” The man said with a wicked smile, his silver hair flowing behind him. “You really thought you’d get away after causing so much havoc? My fiancé’s father is dеad because of your little ruse.”

“Obscuro,” you spat, ignoring his remark and going straight for defence.

“Protego,” he returned. “Stupefy!”

You blocked his spell with practised ease. “Nina behind me!” you said with determination, “Depulso!”

He blocked as well, “Confringo!”

You ducked and pulled Nina alongside you to the ground. His spell went straight to one of the hedges and things started to heat up, quite literally. The snow surrounding the area behind you melted and mixed with the dirt beneath, making mud similar to the one just outside the house.

Lucius taunted and attacked with increasing ferocity, while you fought desperately to defend both yourself and Nina. Spells flew back and forth, lighting up the night with bursts of magic. With each passing moment, the intensity of the duel escalated, fueled by adrenaline and desperation.

There was constant shouting and blocking. The more time passed and the more time you stood your ground against the man, the angrier he seemed to become. And you were tired, the amount of magic you had used up to conjure the Fiendfyre and the fact that she was still distracting and burning things back at the house, even if out of your control, was draining your energy –and magic– at worrying speeds.

Combining that with the charred image of your mother that you desperately tried to bury in the back of your mind, you felt closer and closer to losing your grip and concentration, but you refused to give in, if there was something that you were, even in cases of life and dеath, was stubborn.

“Getting tired, butterfly?” he asked with a cocky smile when he noticed you had almost tripped on a spell.

“Opugno!” you responded, ignoring his taunting. Suddenly the branches of the hedges seemed to come alive as they went straight to get him.

“Deprimo!” he shouted before the spell hit him, and the floor started to shake, both you and Nina managed to step out of the way, on time, but the hole in the ground had now trapped the two of you in a dеad end.

“Reparo!” you shouted, your previous spell had been strong enough to distract him while you attempted to build the ground back up so you could continue.

“Impedimenta!” he shouted, and you were locked in place. When did he even get out of the hedges?

You tried to focus on shaking the charm off while he pointed his wand at you again. You were tired, but you had fought against Nightshade’s impedimenta several times before, and Lucius’ curse was much weaker. Despite that, the amount of magic you had already used had debilitated you and it seemed to require even more concentration than it had done in the past. That didn’t make it impossible.

You were just getting a grip on the knot of magic that seemed to lock you in place when Lucius smiled, still bound by the hedges but gloating at the way you struggled.

“Stupefy Maxima!” he shouted. You braced yourself to receive the spell, but instead, you felt a push from the side and ended up cornered against one of the hedges as Nina fell to the ground right in front of you.

“Nina!” you shouted and dropped to the ground next to her in an instant, then you saw another spell leave his wand. You stared at the red bolt coming straight at you with watery eyes, thinking of all the things you wouldn’t be able to do, of all the things Nina wouldn’t be able to do because you had failed to save her. Anger and sorrow filled your thoughts as you stared at dеath straight in the eyes.

But she didn’t stare back.

Instead, there was a bright, blinding light that lasted no more than half a second, and Lucius was thrown back against one of the hedges. It was as if his wand had backfired the spell on him. You stared at the scene confused, your bafflement increasing only when you spotted Barty Crouch shooting a stunning spell in Lucius’ direction.

You turned back to Nina as the two of them fought the other, “Nina,” you said softly as you placed your hands around her face, her cheeks were cold but there was something gooey and warm behind her hair. As you pulled your hand back to look at it better you realised what it was. You shook your head and as you stared. “No, no, no, no...” you repeated over and over again as you leaned down only to realise she had fallen onto a sharp rock. “No, no… Nina, look at me,” you said, voice wavering.

Her weary gaze turned to you, her eyelids were heavy and tired, but she smiled faintly when she saw you. “You’re okay,” she sighed.

“No, no, no,” you repeated, tears already blurring your sight as you stared at her.

“Go!” she said softly, reassuringly.

“No!” you said again, voice cracking near the end.

She nodded soothingly, “It’s okay, you have to go.”

“Nina, please!” you begged. “We can do something, we can find a way to–”

“Go,” she interrupted you calmly, more secure now. “You’re all right,” she said and smiled, “I can go happy knowing you’ll be alright.”

“You can’t! I won’t leave, not without you,” you replied stubbornly, shaking your head as you said it.

“You can’t stop her now, the bargain’s made, the deal’s done,” she said simply.

“No, please,” you said as you leaned onto her chest and allowed the tears to stream down your face, the girl somehow managed to place her hand over your hair and played with some of the strands with the little strength she had left.

“You know… I’ve been bles-sed,” she said, her breath caught in her throat. “Blessed that you were the last thing I got to see,” she added with a smile, “thank you for saving me.”

You felt her hand go limp over your head and you heard the last beat of her heart boom against your ear. “No!” you cried and stood back up to look at her. She had a pleased and peaceful expression on her face, contrasting completely with her stained blonde hair, and the rapidly changing colour of snow, no longer white, but scarlet. “Rennervate,” you said pointing the wand at her. Nothing. “Rennervate,” you repeated, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Rennervate, Rennervate, Rennervate.”

“Stop it!” you heard Barty say from behind you.

“Rennervate!” you said again, completely disregarding the boy.

“Hey! You need to get out of here, people are coming.”

“I don’t care!” You snapped. And turned back “RENNERVATE!”

“You’re going to diе too! Her sacrifice would be for nothing!”

“Go to hell!” You responded. You felt him trying to pull you away from her. “Get your filthy hands off me!”

“Re- rennervate,” you repeated, it was more a whisper than anything else, a desperate cry, a futile attempt to cling onto something that wasn’t there anymore, that wouldn’t be there no matter what you did. Perhaps you had used up your magic, it was a stunning spell, not a kiIling curse.

But it had also been the fall, and the rock.

“Listen to me!” Barty said as he hauled you up by pushing you against one of the hedges. “She’s gone, and if you don’t move, you’ll be the same! Your stupid spell will do nothing to bring her back!”

“She’s my friend!” you shouted angrily as you tried to pry his hands away from your arms. But Barty was still stronger than you. “She’s my friend, and she’s struggling because of me. I won’t give up on her!”

“THERE IS NOTHING TO GIVE UP ON! SHE’S FUCKING DЕAD!”

Rage filled your gaze as you managed to focus on him again, you tried to push him off of you again, this time with much more determination. When he realised, he smiled and loosened his grip.

“What?” you asked in disbelief.

“Wrath is more useful than desperation,” he retorted. “You need to get out of here.”

You gave one last look at Nina, her pleased expression made her look as if she was sleeping, soft and simple and happy. Could you trick your brain into thinking she was just sleeping if you tried hard enough?

You turned back to Barty wearily, “Why– why are you helping me?” you asked with a wavering voice, emotions raw and unfiltered at this point.

“Evan told me what you did for him. He’s taking care of Lucius and I’m much better at apparating than him.”

You swallowed, distrusting, and turned to the side, Evan was indeed in the distance, performing some kind of spell on the man that had murdered Nina. Your mind was spinning with conflicting emotions. You wanted to lash out, to scream and rage against the unfairness of it all. But there was no use, Nina was dеad and no matter how much you cried about it, you wouldn’t bring her back.

“Look! If it makes you feel better you can hit me–” His words were cut short as your fist connected to his face. “Fuck! I’m trying to help you!” he winced as he reached for his nose. Your fist stung, but clearly, his face did just as much.

“You’ve been an asshole to me for months.”

“And I’m trying to do a good deed, bIoody hell!” he replied with a frown, you glared in return. “Come on, we need to get out.”

“I don’t want to!” You said in a stubborn whisper, you wanted to lean against her and cry until the snow covered both of your bodies and you could forget about it all.

“But she wanted you to,” he replied, there was bIood streaming down his nose, but there was an honesty in his gaze that you didn’t think Barty was capable of. “Allow me to help make her last wish true.”

You swallowed, giving the boy one more weary look, “Can you try?”

“Try?” he asked, confused. He was trying.

“To save her.”

“It’s pointless, if you couldn’t do it–”

“My magic’s weak,” you admitted, despite yourself, it didn’t matter anymore, you didn’t care if Barty or Evan used it against you as long as Nina came back.

The boy sighed, clearly thinking it was pointless, but leaned down next to Nina either way “Rennervate!” he said steadily.

Seconds passed by, agonisingly slow but nothing happened.

You let out a defeated breath, your mind was suddenly empty. You realised if you didn’t want to end up like her, you’d have to pull yourself together somehow. Barty tried again, even if you didn’t ask him, but the result was the same. You placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Fine, let’s get out,” you said with a nod. Barty stood up and you tighten your grip around the wand you were holding, taking in a deep breath before pointing it at Nina. “Papilioscorpus,” you said, focusing all of your attention on that one spell.

Suddenly Nina’s body transformed into a heap of small blue butterflies. You held back the sob that threatened to escape by sucking in a breath as the small creatures broke off Nina’s body, one by one until there was no more of her, but hundreds of them.

How unfair it was, that Nina had to diе because she wasn’t a pureblood, you thought, even if Nina would disagree. She didn’t diе because she wasn’t a pureblood wizard, she didn’t diе because they tortured her to dеath, she didn’t diе weak and defenceless and in despair, you had spared her from that fate. No, Nina diеd to save you, and she was pleased with the choice she’d made, simply because she wouldn’t want to live in a world where you didn’t exist.

They flew up, circling you for a second before continuing their path, way above the hedges, and leaving behind the bIoodstained snow in search of somewhere warm.

Barty turned to you with a soft expression and then raised his wand to the butterflies, “Irascor,” he said simply. A protective charm, so they would be safe, even if Nina hadn’t been.

“Thank you,” you managed to mumble, as you saw them leave, not allowing yourself to wallow in the hopelessness you felt at such a stunningly beautiful sight. The snow-covered landscape, the stars shining above in the sky, the small snowflakes falling softly on the ground, all contrasted deeply with how you felt, how broken and in pain you were. You blinked back the tears and turned back to him.

He nodded and cocked his head to the side, indicating you to follow him. It was slow at first, steps into a different direction, away from the bIood, now being covered by a fresh layer of snow, away from Evan and unconscious Lucius.

Eventually, Barty started to pick up speed and you matched his pace, a welcome heat to the cold that had now chilled your bones. The dress you had, while long-sleeved, wasn’t exactly snow-friendly. Your heels long forgotten, left as you took faster and faster steps. The white cool of snow against your heels, helping you focus on anything other than all the previous events.

Barty seemed to know exactly where he was going, and you followed him blindly. The traces of your steps had been long erased by the constant falling snow. If he was leading you to safety or back to the house, what difference did it make at this point?

But then you felt it: the barriers against apparating were gone. “Where should I take you?” He asked softly, softer than you’d expect him to, the two of you breathing heavily as you tried to catch your breath.

You blinked, looking around like a lost puppy. You had no mother, your father was a deatheater or something, and your home was probably not yours anymore –not that it had felt like one in the last few years. “I have nowhere to go,” you said the words as you realised their weight.

Barty sighed, he knew what it was like to not belong. To feel lonely and forgotten and like he had to be outstanding to be cared for, to be worthy. He knew what it was to have no place to call home, but he had Evan now. He knew what that felt like, and for the first time since he’d met you, he empathised with you. “Sirius?” he offered, he might not like him, but he knew Sirius was as special to you as Evan was to him.

“He’s with the Potters, you cannot apparate there, you don’t know where it is… It would be too dangerous, for the both of us,” you said steadily, emotionlessly, trying to cling to your analytical side. If you blocked the emotions threatening to boil out of you, if you hid them so deep within your mind that they wouldn’t bother you then perhaps you’d be able to keep moving.

“Secret hideout?”

“I–” then you remembered. “School! Take me to Hogwarts!”

“You can’t apparate there…” he said with a frown. Hogwarts was a brilliant idea though, it would certainly be safer.

“No, but, you can apparate on the Shrieking Shack! You’ve done it before.”

“You want me to take you back, there?” he asked, disbelief laced in his tone.

“Yeah!” you said with a confident nod.

“Are you… sure?” he asked again, perhaps the emotional toll of the night was getting to you.

“Yes! I can get to the castle from there,” you repeated.

He looked at you as if analysing the situation, you seemed pretty sure of yourself, so he nodded, grabbing onto your arm and pulling you closer, Barty was as tall as you, still growing, so you assumed he’d be taller. You ended up hugging each other in the most awkward way possible (a weird sort of hug where neither of you seemed to want to touch each other) before he apparated just outside the shack.

You felt a sense of relief when you spotted the snow-coated building. You had made it this far, against all odds. But was it worth it? With how much it had cost?

Barty gave you one last look, “Can I have the wand?” he asked in a relatively polite tone as he pointed to the wand in your hand. He was being considerate, even for his standards.

“Pardon?” You asked as your grip on the wand tightened.

“I’m going to say I tried to stop you but you apparated away, you’re talented for your age so it’s believable enough. Evan is obliviating Lucius. We’ll try to get your actual wand back–”

“Nina’s,” you said as you handed him the one in your hand. He frowned. “Get Nina’s wand, it’s more important.”

“Why?”

“I can buy another wand, but she… she can’t,” you said, trying not to let your features betray the emotions you felt.

“But it’ll be useless to–” You gave him a mix between a pleading look and a glare, and he stopped his words, “we’ll try,” he conceded.

You smiled weakly, “Thanks.” He was about to leave. “Wait!” you stopped him, a hand on his shoulder, he turned to you, movements soft and calm, he knew you were on edge. “Priori incantatem, they will know you tried to bring Nina back if they check.”

“Give me the wand,” you said and he did as told. “Now take it.”

“Expelliarmus,” he said and the wand you had stolen flew from your hand to his, he caught it in the air with ease. It was surprising how fast he’d caught on to what you meant, but you already knew Barty was brilliant, even if he used said brilliance for evil deeds more often than not.

“And now stun me.”

“What? Are you daft? I’m trying to save you,” he protested with a frown.

“And this is my way of thanking you, you put up a fight against me. Stun me softly if you will–”

“Stupefy!”

Your body reeled back against the gate and ended up on the floor. It had been soft, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Either way, the physical pain was a welcome distraction from the grief that threatened to consume you whole.

“Payback for punching me in the face,” Barty said with a smile as he offered his hand. He was joking.

You scoffed and pushed his hand away, deciding that sitting on the snow was comfortable enough. “Get the hell out before I punch you again.”

His smile only grew wider and he had the nerve to send you a wink before he apparated again. You stared at the empty space he’d left for a while, there was snow all around. Falling and falling in a stunningly, slumbery sort of way. So peaceful and quiet in comparison to how loud and hectic things had been just seconds ago. Even your heartbeat, which had been blasting against your ears, was slowing down.

You stared at the cold white snow, and let your head fall back onto the gate as one of your hands fell on it, pulling some of it up and staring at the way it fell from your fingers lazily. You remembered playing in the snow with the boys, how happy you had been that day, you wondered if you could ever be that happy again.

Ah… how tired did you feel, things were calm now, you weren’t in danger anymore, you sank deeper into the ground, adrenaline dissipating with ease and exhaustion washing over you in waves. You closed and opened your eyes wearily.

The shack, why did you have to get to the shack? You wondered, everything was so peaceful where you were, you liked it, the cold of the snow soothingly numbing the pain, all the pain, not just the physical one. You let a faint smile coat your lips, who’s that in the distance? You wondered, it looked like someone you knew, but paler. Could it be… Nina?

And then you closed your eyes.

And so we grace another table And raise our glasses one more time There's a face at the window And I ain't never, never sayin' goodbye…

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lightwise · 2 days

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“Remain calm. Cooperate. And you might survive.”

A character study on Dr. Emerie Karr

I’ve had a post about Emerie wandering around the back of my mind all season, but haven’t really been able to pull anything together yet that I felt would do her character justice. In addition, I believe there are other people who can speak to some of her position and experiences in a cult-like environment where she has been raised with bounded choices and lack of agency better than I can, but I will still touch on those things here a bit.

Many people have been frustrated at Emerie’s character, even going so far as to say they hate her for not acting in ways we wish she would and for working in the Empire, conducting horrific experiments, and going along with Hemlock’s plans. While I understand the frustrations, there is nothing that Emerie has done that truly exceeds anything that Crosshair or Cody or Wolffe ever did under the Empire, especially when considering that her actions and choices are all very firmly rooted in a very chaotic, traumatizing, and lacking environment that she was raised in. She may not have had a chip (we don’t know), but regardless, she has not been given the amount of free will and expansive thinking that her clone brothers and Omega experienced during the war and after. Even still, her Jango Fett genes are showing through, with a natural affinity and compassion for children tugging on her latent moral compass the more and more she is around them.

“Remain calm. Cooperate. And you might survive.” We first meet Emerie in season 2, when Crosshair is transferred to Tantiss after killing Lt. Nolan. She notably uses his name immediately, and seems to have a slightly more caring nature to her than any of the other medical assistants (like Dr. Scalder) that we have seen on Tantiss. She is focused and seems content and dedicated to her work, but wants Crosshair to survive and not be harmed more than is necessary. She seems to have traces of both Tech and Dr. Hemlock in her, with a dedication to science and the tasks assigned to her, and a mind that is obviously adept and capable of accomplishing various procedures. While she follows all of Dr. Hemlock’s orders completely, she shows traces of compassion to Crosshair along the way, and begs him not to try and escape. At this point, her own access card doesn’t even allow her to get outside, and we’ve never seen her on any of the landing platforms. She seems to have an intimate knowledge of how impossible it is to escape the facility (has she tried to herself?)

“She is a clone. And therefore Imperial property.” Hemlock is talking about Omega here, but the camera pans to include Emerie standing beside him, looking at him. This cinematography choice will occur several times, where dialogue from Hemlock or Omega is overlaid with a shot of Emerie’s face to show that comments about freedom and clones and specimens and choice all have double meanings that include Emerie, even if she has the supposed station and respect of a doctor’s position. At this point it is unclear whether she fully understands how she is just as much a prisoner inside these walls as Crosshair and the other clones are.

“A prisoner? You are no such thing. It is far safer in here than it is out there.” This is but one of many times that Emerie uses the word “safe” in regard to being on Mt. Tantiss, following the rules, and doing what is expected. She comes to retrieve Omega every morning, mostly chipper and focused on including her in her tasks for the day. She shows care for Omega but is fully absorbed in her duties and what to her is normal daily life. An empty room that locks from the outside is probably the norm for her. For Omega, it is decidedly not, and Omega’s curious but justice-oriented nature begins to tilt the axis of Emerie’s perceptions. When first meeting her, Emerie acknowledges her as her sister and wants her to trust her. It’s clear that she maybe knew of Omega at some point, even though Omega had never heard of her until now. We get a slight glimpse of why that would be, when Emerie tells Omega that she was on Kamino initially but was “sent elsewhere until Dr. Hemlock took me under his wing.” There is a LOT embedded in that sentence. Sent away by Nala Se? Why? What was her initial purpose in being created? Why was she discarded? Was Omega a “better” version of her? Where did she go, and how and why did Hemlock find her and bring her up as his medical assistant, seeing “potential” in her. It’s obvious Emerie’s sense of self-worth, while relatively strong, also hinges on following Hemlock’s orders. All of this screams abandonment and grooming even if not of a sexual nature, and Emerie certainly seems to show the submissive, trusting, and yet fearful disposition one might expect from someone whose life has been defined by those circumstances.

“You don’t know she won’t survive. She deserves a chance.” A conversation about letting a domesticated Lurca hound out into the wild to fend for herself is clearly paralleled with Emerie’s fate. Emerie tries to act as a mediator between Hemlock and Omega, hoping that the girl won’t be hurt or punished. Hemlock scoffs at Omega’s decision to let Batcher go, and her impassioned statement above. He sneers “the flawed logic of an idealistic child. Emotion and sentiment have no place within these walls. You would do well to remember that.” Emotion and sentiment have seemingly been lacking in Emerie’s upbringing, yet they continue to have an influence on her impulses and actions more and more. A testament to this is the fact that she keeps Omega’s straw Lula doll after it is found during a midnight room inspection, and eventually gives it back to her even though it breaks protocol. She will later keep this doll hidden after Omega escapes, and give it to one of the Vault “specimens”, Eva, in an attempt to comfort her. In that initial confrontation with Omega, Hemlock had added a final warning: “Actions always have consequences. Sometimes not in the ways we imagine.” What will this mean in the future for both him and Emerie? Their choices until recently have seemed in line and coherent, but they are diverging more and more.

“It’s best not to ask questions.” Emerie once again demonstrates the dichotomy of her perspectives as she affirms the authority and deference that she believes she owes Dr. Hemlock, while also being attentive to Omega’s shift in mood after being told by Nala Se that she must escape. Emerie tells Omega to get some rest, thinking she isn’t feeling well. There is no reason for her to do this other than the fact that she cares about Omega, as against protocol as those feelings are.

“You’re not thinking clearly. Escape is not possible. This is for your own good.” After finding Crosshair and Omega ready to escape through the Lurca hound tunnels, she begs both of them to see what to her is reason and sense. She doesn’t want either of them to get in trouble or be hurt, and would have covered for them if they would simply surrender and return to their cells. She affirms again that escape is not possible, from her perspective, and that what is best is quiet acquiescence. We see this continued struggle between her own budding moral compass, her sense of duty, her fear, her belief that it is safer to stay and to be quiet and to stay small. After they escape the facility, she finds out that Omega’s blood is the binder they have been looking for all along, and partly out of scientific duty, and partly knowing that this knowledge is the only thing that will save Crosshair and Omega’s escaping ship from being shot down, she informs Dr. Hemlock.

“Do you trust me? I’ve spent years working by your side. I could be more useful.” Before Omega is recaptured, we get an entire episode from Emerie’s POV (which also establishes her as a very important character for the remainder of the season). Here we begin to see more of her conflicted moral compass, and also her budding sense of self esteem. “You wish to be the new chief scientist Dr. Karr?” “I believe I’ve earned it.” This fully encapsulates the dynamic that these two “doctors” have shared over the years. Emerie knows that Hemlock only values things that are useful, and probably only sees her own value in the light of what she can contribute, due to how she was raised and the circumstances she has been trapped in. Hemlock’s tone of voice implies that he has never considered her as being the new chief scientist, and yet he acquiesces quite quickly, almost as though he’s just too busy to think about it and if it means things are brought back up to production standard then he’s fine with her taking Nala Se’s place. His utter disregard for Emerie as an actual human and someone with merit is disgusting, but to Emerie it comes across as respectful benevolence (as long as she follows the rules). It is good to see her start to stand up for herself, although she has no idea what she is getting herself into.

“You’re safe SP-32.” Emerie’s experiences watching over the children in the vault begin to chip away HARD at the beliefs she has grown up with and the perspectives she has kept herself sheltered behind. She initially tries to connect with one of the children, Eva, but Hemlock quickly stops her and tries to force his perspective that these are simply “scientific assets. Specimens.” The children defy this characterization at every turn. Eva compliments Emerie’s glasses, shares her name. Jax reiterates that his number is not his name when he tries to escape, and Emerie spends the entire sequence of him trying to escape torn, worried for him, and disgruntled at how violently Scorch and the other commandos treat him. Her conflict continues to grow as Eva asks how Jax is after the escape attempt, and she has to face her duplicity in telling Eva everything would be fine, when it is not.

“They’re children. Like I was. Was your plan to discard them too?” Finally, Emerie confronts Nala Se, and we get more of a glimpse into the circumstances of her childhood. Emerie obviously carries enormous bitterness and resentment for however Nala Se treated her and the choice to abandon her in favor of Omega, and she throws this back in Nala Se’s face asking why the rest of the children in the Vault haven’t been protected either. “The Empire will keep them in order to control them” — once again a layered statement that includes Emerie’s own position. “They don’t belong in here” — Omega’s hopeful and determined perspective has gotten through to her on some level, just as it did with Crosshair. However, despite her growing sense of guilt and remorse, Emerie still feels powerless and at the mercy of her environment. “I don’t have that kind of power.” But Nala Se challenges her that she does, and that her choices going forward will need to be hers and hers alone.

“And where did this child come from?” Emerie starts to take small steps towards more independent choices when she insists on accompanying Scorch to pick up the next force sensitive child. Whether her plan was to try and fudge the results so he could be returned to his home, or just find out more information about how these children are procured and how many are being kidnapped, she can’t change the outcome of Bayrn being brought in. But her dismay at how young he is and how much worse this situation keeps getting is evident. Just as telling is Hemlock’s misinterpretation of her hesitation of taking in another “specimen.” He thinks she’s afraid of them harming her in an escape attempt. He doesn’t see that her personal convictions have started to become louder in her mind and heart than his commands and manipulation. She continues to take steps toward autonomy by comforting Eva, using the girl’s name, and bringing her Omega’s straw toy, that she had kept against orders. The situation is wearing on her more and more. But there’s hope for her yet.

“Emerie, you don’t have to do this.” Once Omega is back on Tantiss, Emerie retreats back into her shell a bit as Hemlock orders her to test Omega’s blood again. She knows what will happen and where Omega will be taken when the sample comes through, and she looks utterly defeated and cornered, sighing, her shoulders slumped like Crosshair’s when he was still imprisoned. Yet even as far as she’s come, she can’t see a way around completing this task. “I’m sorry, but I do.” She tries to soften the blow with “for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re safe.” But Omega is not having it. “Am I??” Emerie knows she’s not, sighing in fear and resignation again as Hemlock takes Omega away to the vault. She tries to console herself by giving the children better games to keep their minds engaged, and pointedly asserts her rank and decision to keep Omega in contact with the other children even when Dr. Scalder disagrees with her choice. Her confidence is still growing. Her sense of right and wrong is slowly becoming more and more defined. She is now starting to show a split front between her attempts to placate Omega vs. the questions and doubts that have been festering inside her. Will she finally be able to push through her fears and use her influence and position to help the children, the clones, Omega, and the Batch escape by the end? Or will she remain trapped in a life that she didn’t choose but that she has long since begun to question and pull away from?

Just like the rotating dial of test vials that she oversees every day, Emerie’s moral compass continues to inch closer and closer toward a resolution, until hopefully it will click fully into place. And when it does, Hemlock will (hopefully) regret every ounce of trust he’s ever placed in her. And Omega will hopefully be fully justified in the trust, pleas, and examples that she has been giving Emerie, her big sister, this whole time. Emerie’s sense of identity, justice, and conviction hang in the balance. She can be an agent of change for everyone’s fates, if she chooses to step into her own.

✨ Tag List ✨

@drafthorsemath @freesia-writes @sunshinesdaydream @ladyzirkonia @jedizhi @the-little-moment @the-bad-batch-baroness @heyclickadee @burningfieldof-clover @dreamless-daydreamer

#the bad batch #tbb #tbb spoilers #star wars #the bad batch spoilers #tbb emerie #dr hemlock #omega #tbb omega #tbb hemlock #emerie karr #dr emerie karr #tbb emerie karr #bad batch emerie

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 days

Text

Muddled Waters 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your boss has a dangerous secret.

Character: Nick Fowler (mob au)

Please comment and reblog if it’s not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved.

You skewer candied cherries on a long toothpick and balance them over a martini glass. The deep blue drink with a layer of foam is perfectly aligned with the crystal brim. You stand straight as you top off the last of the drinks, a new batch for the waiting customers.

You put the small silver measuring cup aside and nearly cry out as the silhouette hovering in the corner of your vision moves. You touch your chest in surprise as you face Nick with a bashful smile. You didn’t even know he was around that day. Lately, he’s been absent more than not.

“Oh, hi,” you laugh at yourself, “I didn’t hear you...”

“I have a bad habit of that,” he grins, “some have compared me to a cat.”

You tilt your head, “some? You mean, me?”

He shrugs, “was that you?

“Maybe,” you turn and carefully move the stemmed glasses to a tray.

“New flavour?” He nears and stands close. You can smell his cedar cologne.

“Blueberry,” you explain, “bit sweet for my tastes but it fits the season.”

“Ah, sounds interesting,” he reaches and takes one of the glasses and you gasp.

“Nick!” You turn to him and he grins as he sips, the foam clinging to his top lip. He hums as he removes the toothpick from across the rim and nibbles off one of the cherries.

“Tasty,” he commends.

“Why-- Now I’ll to make another.”

“They can wait. It’s more than worth it,” he assures, still standing close as he slurps.

You work in the warmth of his looming proximity. He’s never had much of a personal bubble. Working behind a bar, you’ve grown used to being crowded. You measure and pour and muddle. You garnish and set the drink to replace the one your boss took.

“Right, ready,” you declare.

“Here, let me get those,” he slides the tray across the counter before you can react.

“No, you don’t have to--”

“I want to. Boss man’s gotta do some work around here,” he scoffs and lifts the tray. “You take a load off, sweetheart, I need those hands well-rested. No one else has that magic touch.”

You tisk and shake your head. He can be ridiculous. You won’t complain, he’s the least uptight boss you’ve had. The place isn’t too bad. Upscale with well-tipping patronage. It’s not your typical bar. Most of your work is done behind a wall as the customers drink in private rooms or in the common room where refined jazz wafts through the dim air. The whole place drips of exclusivity.

You clean up and wipe the counter before you wash your hands. Another order appears on the screen. Customers order on a sleek touchscreen, unbothered by servers amid their hushed conversations. You assume they are the types with private jets and luxurious yachts. Of course, they’re too special to drink like normal people.

You start up the next order. Spiced apple cider. A classic though it’s not often ordered. Two to put up. You mix the drinks in mason jars with thick handles. You finish them each with a cinnamon stick.

“Ready to go?” Nick has you squeaking again.

“God,” you throw your hands up and laugh, “how do you keep doing that?”

“Hey, not my fault. You’re in the zone. You know, you get all squinty,” he makes a face, “it’s like the whole world doesn’t exist. Makes me feel a bit small.”

“Mm, well, I guess you’re right. I should pay more attention to my surroundings,” you lift the mugs, “I got these, Nick.”

“It’s no problem, one of my buddies,” he wraps his hands around the jars, “been a while since I’ve seen him.”

“Oh, okay then,” you let him take the cups.

“Take it easy. You do too much.”

You smile tightly and lean on the counter. He goes and you turn around to tidy again. You can be precise. You like a clean station. You’ve worked with too many people who leave the bartop littered in lime peel and broken toothpicks. You can’t make a good drink if you’re working in filth.

But it isn’t just your work. You try not to let the personal seep in but you can’t help who you are. Things should be just so. Books should be lined up and sorted alphabetically and the dishes should be stacked neatly, and the carpet can’t be crooked.

You exhale and run your hands over your apron. Most people might envy your boss for his high company and exorbitant wealth, you just covet his coolness. He’s never bothered by much.

“Sweetheart,” he enters, this time with fair warning. You look up at his pet name. He always calls you that. “What’s that chocolate one you did last time?” He snaps his fingers, “you know, it was kinda creamy--”

“Brandy Alexander,” you answer, “yeah, uh, we’re out of dark creme de cacao. I put it on the inventory.”

“Inventory,” he nods and his blue eyes flick away guiltily, “yeah, I was supposed to do that.”

You cross your arms, “yeah, you were.”

“Sorry, sweetheart, I swear, I thought of it,” he crinkles his nose, “but it must’ve slipped my mind.”

“Mhmm,” you sniff, “well, you have been busy. I didn’t even know you were in town.”

He looks up and his cheek dimples. His gaze falls back on you, “lots of running around. Sorry, sweetheart, if it was up to me, I’d be right here, tasting all your delights.”

You nearly snort but instead just furrow your brow.

“What?” He asks.

“Nothing,” you shrug and turn away, the screen showing another order. “Sometimes... the way you say things...”

He chuckles and leans his elbow on the counter, “I do like to choke on my own foot.”

“You know, I said before, I could make time for inventory. I don’t mind making orders--”

“Don’t bother,” he cuts your offer short, “I know people. I can take care of it. I’ll make a few calls tonight.” He stays as he is, angled against the counter as he watches you. He rests his chin on his knuckles and you glance over as you squeeze a lime dry.

“What?” You ask as you measure out the juice.

“How’d you learn to do all this?” He asks.

“I took a few courses, worked a few dives,” you say, “did a gig on a cruise ship. You know, you figure it out.”

“And you enjoy it?” He says, “I mean, I can tell you do.”

“It keeps my hands moving and my head from racing,” you explain as you mix the drink in a shaker.

“Sounds amazing,” he stands straight, “sooner or later, I need to find something to keep me busy. Something that doesn’t make me crazy.”

You garnish and he swipes up the glass before you can stop him.

“Well, you might just have a calling as a waiter,” you say sarcastically as you wipe your hands on a towel.

“I don’t know about that,” he grins, “I’m not much for taking orders.”

#nick fowler #the 355 #dark nick fowler #dark!nick fowler #nick fowler x reader #drabbles #series #au #sweet and spicy #muddled waters

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spacebarbarianweird · 3 days

Note

Dadstarion prompt:

Caretaker takes the kid to a fair, playground, restaurant or shopping, just spending the day and having fun together

Ha! Take that. Pure fluff. What could possibly go wrong??

Synopsis: Tiriel and Astarion take Alethaine to a fair.

Tags: dadstarion, dhampirs, fluff, a snippet into the future

Another fluffy thing I have written! And there is also a snippet into the distant future with adult Tiri who hasn't inherited her mother's macabre nature!

Alethaine's age - 12-years-old

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Guide on How To Skin Monsters

Tiriel stops at the daggers’ stall. All of them look rather dull and Tiriel decides to search for something better for Astarion. Besides, he prefers to choose weapons for himself and Tiriel can always get something else – a book, jewelry, or a shirt. He always huffs when she brings him gifts, but she knows he is grateful for those little reminders of her care.

“Looking for something?” A merchant, a halfling woman, asks.

“Nothing in particular,” Tiriel says.

The halfling is definitely in the mood for talking and starts gossiping about a feud between two noble human houses, a serious plague “originated by giants” and someone’s wife cheating with an ork.

“Oh, and have you heard? There was a murder in Secomber! The whole family was slaughtered and by whom? A dhampir!”

Tiriel takes her eyes off the daggers.

“Yes! A half-vampire! Can you imagine sleeping with a vampire? But I think their mother was assaulted. Anyway, the dhampir grew up and slaughtered the whole family! Those half-undead are merciless cruel creatures, and they say there are so many of them!”

“Yeah… cruel monsters they are,” Tiriel mutters.

She heard of the slaughter, but there were no dhampirs or vampires involved. Just a young man possessed by a dryad. He was hanged a week later, but someone started spreading rumors his mother fucked a vampire and that’s why her child grew up so bloodthirsty.

Tiriel feels pale hands hugging her waist from behind. Alethaine presses her face against her back – she is 12 but she is still cuddly as a little child.

“Oh, is this your daughter? Such an adorable little girl. How old is she?”

“Alethaine,” Tiriel touches her fingers.

“I am twelve,” she says, trying not to betray her fangs.

“Oh… I am sorry… didn’t notice she was an elf.” The merchant apologizes and then proceeds to tell other gossip.

“Have a nice day,” Tiriel says, taking Alethaine’s hand.

“You too! And beware the dhampirs!”

“Beware the dhampirs my ass,” Tiriel says, moving further away from the obnoxious halfling.

“I can bite her,” Alethaine suggests. She is twelve, but elves mature slower than humans and half-elves and Tiriel notices her daughter sometimes behaves like a younger child.

“No, we are not biting people we don't like.”

“Dad wouldn’t mind if I bit her!”

“Hm, good thing it’s daylight then!” Tiriel rubs Alethaine’s ear. She knows her daughter too well not to notice the merchant’s words upset her.

Cruel merciless creatures? Alethaine cries her eyes out every time someone dies in the books she reads! Well, she mostly sympathizes with dragons and monsters – but also with orphan children, victims of arranged marriages and curses.

And little dead animals.

Little dead animals are a whole different story. It’s been three years, but Alethaine still feels sorry about an albino kitten killed by a stranger. The dhampir accidentally resurrected the pet and now Tiriel and Astarion also face the issue of raising a necromancer.

“Hey, don’t be sad!” Tiriel leans to a little dhampir. “Do you want anything?”

Alethaine doesn't answer. She stops by the book stall completely enchanted by a huge black volume covered in leather.

How to Skin Monsters.

Aletaine immediately flips the pages, and Tiriel sees intricate and creepy pictures of the insides of different beasts and monsters. She’d fought many of them in her lifetime (beholders in the Underdark are still one of her worst memories), but never ever did she want to look at their remains, let alone study them.

“Hey, don’t touch it!'' The merchant tries to take the book away from Alethaine’s hands, but the dhampir keeps holding it with her iron grip. “I think this book is rather dark for a little lady like you.”

“Mum, look, the cover is made of human skin,” Alethaine casually says. “No. It’s half-elf actually.”

“No it isn’t!” The merchant protests. “It’s… wolfskin!”

Liar, Tiriel realizes. She has good perception skills, and the merchant lies. And the dhampir necromancer has already passed the verdict.

Alethaine puts the book away and takes another one – a green volume with letters in Espruar.

“Is it just a collection of stories or the real guide on Feywild?’” Alethaine asks. “People who have never messed with fey write all sorts of fairytale stuff about pink unicorns and fairies who grant wishes.” She opens the book which is written with trembling handwriting. “Oh, I see. Looks like a feverish nightmare. So the writer has been there.”

The book merchant looks at Tiriel with a facial expression she knows too well.

What crypt did you find this child in?

“I have some ballads and traveler guides. Maybe...it is more for your age?” he asks

“Travelers guide on what places?”

“Icewind Dale, but it’s a rather uncomfortable read…”

“I’ve read about Icewind Dale,” suddenly something else attracts her attention and she points at a small book with a dragon on its cover. “Show me this!”

The merchant sighs in relief and reaches for the storybook. Tiriel looks at the pages – even though she still experiences issues with reading, she sees that it's just an adventure story about knights, princes, dragons, and treasure hunting.

Something her daughter stopped reading when she was five or six.

“I will take this too,” Alethaine declares.

“Eighty silver for all three,” the merchant says.

Too much, Tiriel thinks. Alethaine frowns but doesn’t try to bargain. For some reason, she is very shy when it comes to arguments.

“Thirty silver,” Tiriel intervenes. “And we are not telling anyone about the half-elf skin you’ve bound the book with.”

“It’s not made of anyone’s skin!”

“I can hear her screams,” Alethaine whispers, flipping the book pages. “They flayed her when she was still alive!”

The merchant gulps. Tiriel chuckles. So, this is true and the merchant knew it.

“All right. Thirty,” he mutters and Alethaine happily gives him the silver coins.

Alethaine puts the books in her black bag and wishes the merchant good night. The man mutters something not appropriate for children’s ears.

“Did you catch the scent of the skin or it’s more like your necromancy skills?” Tiriel asks, taking her daughter’s hand as they stand by the stall with needles and threads.

She shrugs. “I-I don’t know. Maybe both.”

“Do you know if Dad needs something to sew?” Tiriel still can’t really tell apart shades of the same color and all needles look the same to her.

“Take the black threads,” Alethaine says, touching the samples of fabric. “He’s always out of them.”

Tiriel nods. She doesn’t know why and when Astarion decided to make all his daughter’s wardrobe black, but here they are. Alethaine got from black onesies to black dresses, from black nappies to black skirts, gloves, and coats. Only her shoes and boots aren’t made by Astarion - and they are as pitch dark as everything else.

A few hours later, at sunset, they sit on the grass outside the market. It’s a beautiful summer sunset and Tiriel adores the light. Alethaine sits on her traveling cape and takes out one of her new books.

“Interesting?”

“Uh-um,” she nods, completely taken away.

Tiriel smiles to herself. She’s never been a stranger to violence and dark things – if you faint at the sight of a blood sacrifice, you won’t survive in the wilderness. But having a child like this takes everything to another level.

Death, dark arts, corpses – they have a special appeal to Alethaine, the same one Tiriel feels towards fights.

The sun sets and Tiriel sits beside Alethaine. Darkvision allows her to see in gray colors and Tiriel sees a picture of the monster inside.

“All right, now I understand who all these people were who hired me to bring them certain parts of the beasts I killed.”

“Dad is coming,” she says. “Or another vampire, but I think Dad scared all of them away.”

Tiriel smiles. “Good thing vampires hate the presence of each other.” She stands up and approaches the edge of the hill. Yes, Alethaine is right – Astarion has left his daylight shelter in the nearby inn. She can see his silhouette from the distance – white hair and black armor she can’t mix with anyone else.

She waves to him and he quickens his steps.

“Hello, darling,” he murmurs in her ear the moment he hugs her. Astarion pecks her cheek and Tiriel rubs his left ear.

“Dad! Look what I’ve bought!”

Tiriel thinks Alethaine will show him the anatomy book, but, instead, she hands him the adventure story.

Astarion studies the first page, then another. Tiriel watches them carefully.

“I just don’t get it,” Alethaine admits. “Is it about how to enter the thieves’ guild or how to smuggle drugs?”

“None,” Astarion returns her the book. “It’s about how to find a job as a bounty hunter in Neverwinter.”

“Oh, I misread the symbols then,” Alethaine pouts.

“Wait, the book is in Thieves Cant?” Triel asks.

“Yes. Hidden deep under snotty stories,” Astarion answers. “And what are these two monstrosities?”

Alethaine proudly opens the anatomy book as Astarion studies the Feywild one. Tiriel barely prevents herself from laughing as she sees Astarion cringing at the pictures. Vampire or not, he saw so many disgusting and cruel things he hated looking at them.

Then Alethaine yawns.

“Let’s go home,” Tiriel says. It will take them till sunrise to return to Daggerlake. If they don't hurry they will need to set up a camp for the daylight - or leave Astarion behind which Tirel absolutely hates to do.

It’s not like it’s a big deal right now – thirty-two years since he gained his freedom, he has nothing to fear. More than that, Tiriel is sure there is simply no other monster in the area who could be a threat to Astarion. He is a vampire, an undead, a skilled rogue, a dangerous assassin.

But when he is alone, the nightmares slowly crawl back. The loneliness fuels his memories and there are so many of them. Thirty-two years are simply not enough. Astarion can handle that too – he’s learned to. But Tiriel doesn’t want him to face mental struggles if it can be avoided.

Alethaine walks in front of them and Tiriel takes Astarion’s hand in hers. They are her little family – everything she’s ever wished for.

She looks at Astarion and notices his lips are squeezed and there is some anxiety in his eyes.

Hunger.

“Go for a hunt, we will wait for you”.

“Nonsense, let’s return home sooner.”

Tiriel doesn’t push it. They agreed years ago that Alethaine isn’t to see him dining on her mother (because it’s absolutely a sexual thing and must remain behind closed doors) and also that she shouldn’t see him feed on animals (because her dhamprisim might get awoken – blood will tempt her and they don’t want their daughter to become more a vampire then she already is).

Of course, she isn't stupid, she knows her father drinks blood. She often sees bite marks on Tiriel when she forgets to cover them – but the process remains out of sight.

It’s already sunrise when they reach Daggerlake and Astarion walks forward not to risk staying in the sun.

By the time they return home, Alethaine rushes upstairs to prepare for sleep. She sleeps a lot, even more than a human would – and Tiriel wonders how much dhampirism affects her sleeping habits.

“So, is the book really about how to be a mercenary?” Tiriel asks closing the door to the bedroom

Astarion has already put off his doublet and now sits on the bed watching Tiriel.

He waits.

“Yes. It was a guide on how to find people who will give her a job as a mercenary,” he slowly answers as if he had to concentrate on speaking. His eyes are focused on her neck.

“And can she read this book?”

“She thought it was about smugglers and thieves. Her skills aren’t that good.”

Tiriel approaches Astarion and he tugs her closer, forcing her to sit on his lap.

Astarion is no longer a sweet caring elf – his predatory side is on the loose and he pierces her skin with his nails as the fangs are looking for the vein.

Tiriel wraps her hands around his neck and lets herself drown in painful pleasure.

“Take as much as you need,” she murmurs. “I love you.”

She feels like falling into the warm dark void and, when she almost crosses the border of no return, the tender hands let her go and she finds herself on the bed with Astarion carefully applying a bandage on her fresh bite mark.

“Thank you,” he says, kissing her with his blood-stained lips.

“Will you stay with me when I sleep?”

“Of course,” he chuckles. “Besides Alethaine has occupied the bathroom – she isn't getting out any time soon”

“Oh… and I forgot…” Tiriel points at her bag. “I’ve bought you some black threads and new needles.”

Astarion kisses her cheek. “Such a caring and thoughtful wild girl. Now I have something to occupy myself with while you are asleep.” He takes her nightshirt from the floor. “Do you have anything in mind? I noticed you’ve ripped it.”

“Me? Astarion, you rip my clothes all the time!”

He unfolds the shirt showing the ripped collar. “Yeah, I agree. My fault. So, what patch do you want?”

“Maybe a dragon? A black one?”

Astarion covers her with a blanket – the one she uses when she sleeps alone – and sits on the floor with the shirt and the needle.

“I have a daughter who likes seeing monsters’ inside-outs and a wife who likes murdering monsters. Can someone in this family enjoy nice and cute things?” He pouts.

“Imagine Alethaine having a child who enjoys such things. She will pout then, ‘no one in her family has taste for macabre’”.

Astarion chuckles, and Tiriel wraps herself in the blanket.

Safe. She feels safe.

And loved.

Sewing has always helped Astarion to concentrate. It’s been centuries since he needed to shut the darkness up. Memories of his enslavement, memories of the misery have faded away and feel like a distant nightmare.

But habits never truly go, and Astarion enjoys sewing patches and repairing clothes even though the old purpose of that process has long gone.

“You know, for someone who is an elf and was raised as an elf, you are very messy,” Astarion says looking at the ripped cape. It looks like it was chewed by a tarrasque.

“It’s not my fault! I was careful!” Tiri objects. She is making new arrows (as she lost the whole quiver while running from a particularly nasty behir in the Underdark the previous day).

Astarion chuckles. Tiri, his granddaughter, showed up at his place deep in the Fairgheight Range five years ago. Red-haired like her grandmother, she was eager to see the world beyond the Isle of Evermeet – and she still doesn’t show any desire neither to return to her parents nor leave him be and travel alone.

“What patches do you want?” Astarion asks and takes his sewing kit from the traveling sack.

“Well, I am an adult independent woman…” Tiri starts.

“You are thirty and you are an elf. You are basically a child.”

“Hm, you were a magistrate and mum would work for smugglers using her necromantic skills. Barely a child activity.”

“So?”

“I want a unicorn patch,” Tiri finally admits. “Or a butterfly. Don’t laugh, ar’o’su!”

“I don’t, damia,” Astarion finds white threads. “Besides, Alethaine has never been fond of cute and nice things.”

“Mum has her own idea of what is nice and what is cute,” Tiri touches a thin tiara on her hair. While all Tiri’s clothes are made according to Wood Elves traditions, her father’s ancestors, the tiara is pitch black and with a small skull in the center. It definitely belonged to Alethaine and then she just passed it to her only daughter.

Tiri puts the new arrows on the ground and lies on her bedroll to reverie. Her drake, Aurix, immediately nestles on her chest like a cat.

Astarion casts a glance at his granddaughter. She has a certain similarity to Tiriel – and Astarion knows she would have loved her. But half-elves have such an offensive short life span in comparison with elves she had no chance to see little Tiri. At the same time, her facial features are her mother’s and sometimes she speaks like her. There is something else, something unfamiliar – Tiri’s father and their ancestors.

And she loves cute and nice things - and cringes at the sight of monsters’ inside-outs. Necromancy scares Tiri and she admits she’s never been to her mother’s dungeons just because of how uncanny it was for her. And elves would often joke that their “witch-queen” just kidnapped Tiri because no way someone like Alethaine could give birth to such a sweet young woman.

Astarion pierces the fabric with the needle.

“Well, so be it, a unicorn.”

-- Tag list

@tugoslovenka

@herstxrgirl

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@vixstarria

@not-so-lost-after-all

@marcynomercy

@theearthsfinalconfession

@starlight-ipomoea

@micropoe10

@astarion-imagine-archive

@veillsar

@elora-the-slutty-songstress

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@ednaaa-04

@dajeong

@wilteddreamsofbaldursgate

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pineapplecrushface · 2 days

Text

WIP Tuesday

Something about Buck and Eddie hugging for the first time in like four years made me think about how affectionate Buck is and then this happened.

“Does it feel weird to you?” Eddie asked when Buck had returned with more beer. “Not weird. Different, I mean.”

“What, being with a guy?” Buck tipped his head back and forth in a so-so gesture when Eddie nodded. “Sometimes. I keep catching myself feeling like I’m not supposed to like something, and I have to train myself to stop.”

“Like what?” Eddie asked before he thought it through. He held up a hand. “No intimate details.”

Buck laughed, his entire face going pink. He ducked his head and took a sip of beer. “Well, that is part of it. But no, it’s more like…he, uh, he calls me baby. And he holds me. I don’t think anyone’s ever done that, because I’m bigger, right? And the women I’ve dated, they liked that I was bigger and stronger than they were. And I’m discovering I kinda like that too. But.”

“But it feels like you’re not supposed to like it,” Eddie said.

“Yeah. So there’s a lot of arguing with my own stupid hang-ups.” Buck sighed. “I really didn’t think I had that many. Not about masculinity or whatever.”

Eddie hummed, not quite in agreement, thoughtful. Would he feel weird about it if a guy held him? Probably a little. He wasn’t very physically affectionate at the best of times, although he found it easier after he’d been dating someone a while. Really, he’d only ever been perfectly comfortable touching a few people. Chris, of course, after the awkwardness of figuring out how to hold a baby. Shannon, when they weren’t fighting.

And Buck. He was very comfortable touching Buck, so there was at least one guy he wouldn’t feel totally weird about being held by. For a moment he imagined the two of them wrapped around each other and it warmed him so much he smiled down at his beer—he could almost feel it, Buck throwing his whole body into it and tucking his face into Eddie’s neck like he did when they hugged. But it would be longer than a hug, and they’d relax into it, breathe each other in. Breathe easier, probably, because they wouldn’t have to pull away. Buck would mumble Ten minutes until we have to pick up Christopher, and Eddie would rub his cheek on Buck’s neck and say You can fall asleep if you want to, baby, I’ll wake you up—

He just barely managed not to twitch so hard he spilled his beer.

“You okay?” Buck asked, leaning forward on his elbow and licking beer from his lips. “You were zoned out pretty hard.”

“No, it’s,” he said, looking around and patting himself down to feel for his phone, wallet, keys. “Uh. I just realized I have to go pick up some stuff for Marisol. A project. She has a project she’s working on and I forgot.”

It wasn’t a complete lie; Marisol did have a list of things she’d asked him to pick up at the hardware store, but she wasn’t starting until Saturday. Buck gave him a skeptical look like he knew her renovation schedule better than Eddie did—and knowing Buck, he probably did—but only nodded.

“See you later,” Eddie said, throwing him a distracted wave and fleeing—actually jogging, running away from his best friend, until he was in his truck and panting and shaking his head because he did not run.

Hmm. You kinda do though, he thought, and it was Buck’s voice, and he was right. He ran and would continue to run because this, this wasn’t a thing he needed or wanted. Right? Right.

But he couldn’t help but poke at it one more time to make sure.

Buck. Buck’s big body around him, his big warm hands sliding down Eddie’s back, Buck laughing against his lips, giving him every bit of his endless reservoir of affection and love. Buck loving him.

Eddie scrunched up his face and clenched his hands in the air before he smacked the steering wheel. Shit. Shit.

“Okay, it’s fine,” he said, smoothing his hands over the steering wheel like it was mad at him. Everything was fine. He didn’t have to think about it. He was in control of his own emotions. He was not a guy who was in love with his best friend. He was a guy who could compartmentalize and ignore uncomfortable things until they went away.

And eventually blew up in his face. But that was for future Eddie to handle. He had Frank and several excellent coping strategies and Muay Thai with his best friend's boyfriend who got to touch him all the time. It was fine. He was fine.

#911 #fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie

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grimm-writings · 18 hours

Note

on my hands and knees begging you to write that legally blonde idea… obsessed with the idea of reader thinking chil wants to get back w his ex vs chil just wanting to be friends and crushing hard on reader

take it like a man!

…ft! chilchuck x fem! reader

…tags! fluff, reader is into fashion

…wc! 2294

…notes! chilchuck tims and emmett forrest are the same to me (my type). this is so incredibly self indulgent thank you for enabling me anon. a lot of dialogue is paraphrased from the song/show, such is the way of songfics. enjoy!

Oh, how Chilchuck wished he could say no to you.

He didn’t know what he was expecting from you and Marcille’s ‘sweep your wife off her feet operation’, otherwise shortened to SYWOHF which Chilchuck pointed out was an awful name for a campaign. You elected to ignore him.

In actuality, he really wanted to just do this his own way. What he had in mind was just to pay a visit and talk things through. As those with a little womanly touch, you and Marcille knew that wouldn’t be enough. Chilchuck had to prove he was serious about this – that he really wanted his wife back in his life!

Seeing how excited you were showing off your step by step plan… he didn’t have the heart to tell you that he really just wanted to remain friends with her.

So, here he is. Having his eyes covered by your hands as you guide him through the busy streets of… who knows where.

“Almost there,” your breathless though excited voice reaches his ears, “I promise!”

You finally slow to a stop, and Chilchuck also gets the chance to speak about his thoughts on this. Simply being, “this is pointless. We don’t need to be doing all this.”

Scoffing, you fold your arms. “Don’t be like that! A conversation isn’t the only way to win her over.”

“No,” Chilchuck starts, “but it would sure make me look desperate!” He swats your hands off and away from his face. His back is turned away from the building you’re arguing outside of, not even bothering to see what you’re doing.

You frown. Chilchuck doesn’t easily get so frustrated with you. That’s what people usually say – if anyone can convince him to do anything, it’d be you. “Chil,” you try to appeal. You even try physically reaching out, hand hovering over his shoulder. “Work with me here. We can do this in a way that will prove yourself, and let her know you’ve changed. For the better.”

Chilchuck listens to you, sparing you a sidelong glance as you go on with your speech. “You make it sound like we’re in some romance novel. This isn’t ‘for the better’ I just want to talk to her.”

“No you don’t, you want her back in your life!”

“Well…!” Chilchuck stutters at how blunt your words are. You are way too observant for your own good. He never knows how to talk to you cooly when you do this. “Well, of course I do! And I can do that by slowly building up trust between us again, without rushing anyone.”

Where Chilchuck expects begging to follow through with your scheme, you simply look at him with a cold expression– colder than he’s ever seen you wear. “So you have the chance to run away again if things get too much? Sacrificing your integrity?”

You’re both lucky this little nook in the streets was away from most crowds. Save for the passersby' conversations, the silence would have been strife with weight. Chilchuck opens his mouth, then closes it again. He repeats the action, and tries to use his hands to communicate his thoughts to no avail.

He settles for turning away from you in angered shame, fists balled at his sides and tips of his ears growing red. “...I guess.”

You smile, knowing you have swayed the half-foot to your side. Even in the dungeon, your debates went this way. Chilchuck would present a cynical, logical approach whilst you were more realistic – something your appearance doesn’t really match with. Chilchuck thinks he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Not like he’d say that to your face.

Hearing your confident hum, Chilchuck sighs and turns back to you. “Why do you always have to be right?” He complains about this constantly. You always seem to one-up him in ways he can never prepare for.

“I don’t have to be,” your attitude and voice returns to its usual, jovial form, “when I’m with you, I just am!”

You reach over to Chilchuck once more right as he’s about to make a scathing comment back at you. His face is a bit too close for comfort with a wooden door, an entrance somewhere.

“You trust me to help you impress your wife, don’t you?” You ask, with a clear sense of finality.

Chilchuck doesn’t think he has much of a choice in the matter. “...Of course,” he responds honestly but you can hear his voice waver.

He can practically sense your smile from behind. “Then don’t stop now.”

You wish you could say without a spot of bias that you were 100% supporting the operation at hand. In actuality, it came with a heavy sacrifice of your own feelings remaining unsaid. Of course you just had to fall for the semi-married man. You have already tried to move on, from distracting yourself with an operation like this, to asking Izutsumi to pummel your head with a rock (which she was very close to doing).

This will have to do.

It was like magic, how the environment of the building interior rushes through you. Chilchuck even feels it, his large eyes blinking as he drinks in the sight.

“...Where are we?” he asks, almost dreamily. A beautiful ceiling lamp shines onto coloured wallpaper. The scent reminds him of the kind of perfume Marcille would use. It’s strangely… alluring.

You lean your face over Chilchuck’s shoulder. “Oh, nothing much. Just the most trendy half-foot exclusive clothing store in Kahka Brud.” You can easily sense Chilchuck’s shock from this position – amusing you greatly. “Here.”

You stand up behind Chilchuck again, massaging his shoulders. “Just take a deep breath, and let it sink in. We’ll be here for a bit so get used to the smells and lights. Feel how it draws you in.”

“I’m feelin’ it alright,” Chilchuck responds, moreso about how he has no idea what convinces people to remain in these environments for so long without feeling overstimulated.

He already feels hot with how you’re handling him.

You move around so you’re in front of Chilchuck. “Listen, I know this can be… overwhelming,” you start, giving the understatement of the century, “but think about who you’re doing this for. Swallow your pride and… pick out anything you think is nice. I’ll do the same.”

Chilchuck nods, about to set off, but not before you take his face, squishing his cheeks a comedic amount so he’s forced to pout and look you in the eye.

“Promise me you won’t run. Take it like a man, alright?”

You let him go, and Chilchuck swears the heat on his body is from the stuffy maze of clothes stalls. As he navigates the first selection of half-foot men’s clothes he sees, he tries to ignore the thoughts that seem to non-stop course through his brain.

He’s largely unsuccessful.

What are you getting out of this? Some sort of second-hand pride at bringing together two estranged lovers? Wait ‘til you find out the truth – that those aren’t where his true feelings lie. Why can’t you leave well enough alone?

Why does he let you string him along with every plan you come up with?

You arrive back with a couple of blazer–pants combos, calling out Chilchuck’s name as you do so. Damn, you sure are speeding through the process.

“So, I took the liberty of picking some of the more fancy kinds of suits.” You hold them up in your arms. “Whaddya think?”

“Suits,” Chilchuck repeats dryly, in disbelief of how far you’re taking the idea of impressing a woman. He looks through each of the three upon seeing your determined expression.

He points at the pale pink option. “Absolutely not.”

He gestures to the navy one with a thinner fabric. “I like this one.”

Finally, he only spares at a glance at the creatively patterned suit. “I think I’d sooner be fed to wargs than be seen in that.”

You assemble each of the selections in order of preference. You muse, “I see, I see… Something refined but masculine. Much better than your ‘tattered chic’ look. Like an old book forever trapped in a library.”

Chilchuck furrows his brow as you run off again. “Wh– What’s that supposed to mean, jerk?!”

He sighs. He watches you as you make a few more choices again, before Chilchuck tries to distract himself looking at ties. He’s come this far. He should trust in your instinct. It hasn’t failed him– or anyone yet.

So what the Hell?

Before Chilchuck knows it, he’s handed the acutely sized down, perfect combination of blazer and pants, and he’s stuffed inside a changing room. He’s instructed to change into the whole thing.

As he does so, you can’t help but pace. This is it. This is the winning goal to help him impress his old flame. It’ll be like an academy romance – falling in love all over again like you’re teenagers. You sigh longingly. If only you can be there, in her place.

“You’re gonna look great!” You converse with Chilchuck through the curtain. “You’ll become a whole new man, promise! You’ll bloom like a rose!”

“It’s just clothes,” Chilchuck, in his usual cynicism, calls back.

You return with a raspberry. “Don’t be such a Debbie-downer.”

“Wow. No one’s called me that since grade school.”

“Maybe not to your face.”

Even without looking at him, you can imagine the scoff and eye roll he must be giving you, interrupted by a small choke on his own spit. “Is this the price?”

“Ignore that!” You quickly respond. “It’s my treat! Come out, come out, I wanna see you!”

Better to gloss over the fact you worked hard to do this for Chilchuck with a high budget. No doubt he’d tease you or outright refuse it. You open the curtain and pull Chilchuck out by his arm. He quickly adjusts himself and you both stand in front of the wall length mirror.

“...Woah.”

It’s said naturally in sync. Both of you hardly recognise the brunette half-foot in the form fitting suit and tie. With a bit of hair maintenance and more time to actually make himself look presentable…

“I look like Laios on a good day,” Chilchuck jokes.

Your breath caught in your throat, you can only let out, “y-yeah.”

You pray he doesn’t notice how enthralled you are in his appearance, if slightly ungroomed.

Once the moment passes, Chilchuck makes himself comfortable by loosening his tie and undoing a button or two, then putting his arms where they usually are behind his neck. “But it’s just me.”

Without hesitation, you find yourself speaking without meaning to. “Is that not the best part?”

Chilchuck looks at you in confusion. “What?”

“I-I mean…” you trail off. You look nervous. That’s rare for you. Usually you always had something to say. Now you look like you’re trying to figure out how to word something in a specific way. Why?

You move behind Chilchuck to smooth down some of his hair. “You may look more charming but… this is all you. Your choices, your style… It reflects who you are on the inside. That’s the magic of fashion.”

Chilchuck laughs a little, mostly at his own cluelessness. He can’t believe he’s underestimated a simple shopping trip. “Thank you,” he says, with complete sincerity.

“No.” You shake your head. “This is not a gift. I’m just… This is me thanking you for how you let me get away with so much.”

Your hands land on his shoulders, and Chilchuck’s fingers find their way to interlace with yours. For just a few more moments, you look at yourselves in the mirror.

Catching yourself, you step away from the situation – from him. “Well? Come on, you need to buy this. I’d want to marry you if you took me out looking like this!”

The half-foot flushes red. You got to know what you’re doing to him. “That’s not really—”

“Chilchuck. Please.” You place your hands on your hips, looking dead serious. “You look hot.”

…Well, he can’t argue with you. If you really think that, then who is he to deny it?

“Fine. I’ll get it.”

You smile that cocky grin Chilchuck has grown to love. “That’s our man.”

Leaving the shop was like a breath of fresh, unperfumed air. Chilchuck would nearly fall to his knees and start kissing the ground if he paid too much attention to how his legs ached. The post shopping trip fatigue is really hitting him.

“I enjoyed this,” he however admits. “Maybe women are onto something when it comes to clothes.”

“That’s why you should always listen to whenever a woman is speaking,” you wisely advise, making Chilchuck nod with a slight snort.

He stops at a crossroads, where you go back to his place, and he goes back to his. “You can trust that I will now.”

“Good.” You sigh in relief knowing your venture was successful. Maybe too successful, because now you may lose him.

Chilchuck keeps looking at you with affection. You can’t say you haven’t noticed how he keeps sparing you glances, mostly throughout the shopping trip. Maybe he has warmed up to you?

Still, neither of you can stop yourselves at this point.

You approach, and for a hopeful second, Chilchuck tilts his head a bit to the left, eyelids lowering and leaning into you. Your arms wrap around his middle.

Your face nuzzles into his neck as you hug the man tight. Chilchuck is still for a few seconds. A hug. Right. Of course you’d want a hug… He responds in kind.

“See you soon, Chil. I wish you luck.”

“Y-Yeah. Luck with the lady.”

Your happiness comes with a heavy sacrifice of Chilchuck’s feelings remaining unsaid.

He’ll take it like a man.

#✮ grimm's fics!#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi imagines #dungeon meshi x reader #delicious in dungeon #delicious in dungeon imagines #delicious in dungeon x reader #chilchuck #chilchuck tims #chilchuck x reader #chilchuck imagines #chilchuck tims x reader #chilchuck tims imagines

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