#i WANT him to embrace and be embraced by many more characters than are currently doing so

[flurry-of-stars]

𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓼𝓮 𝓗𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓸𝔀 𝓗𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓼

𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: 𝒩𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 𝐹𝓎𝑜𝒹𝑜𝓇 𝓍 𝒜𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒: Slow burn romance, female reader, small age gap (Fyodor is thirty, the reader is in her early twenties.) No Abilities AU, angst, fluff, eventual smut, multipart story. 𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: “Eyeing his new assistant from across the table, Fyodor’s heart twists in some cold form of rebellion–” “His eyes scan you, watching as your pen glides across the paper, translating his words carefully. A smug smirk rises onto his lips, noting how many times you stop and start. You were already struggling.” 𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 6.5k or so (A/N: First of all, I’m giving the biggest shoutout to a very close friend of mine for helping with the Russian written in this chapter, you’re the best and I owe you for this ❤ Second of all, I know, strange to write an author AU when the characters are based on authors but here we are. I want to say Novelist AU Fyodor may have a few similar traits to IRL Dostoyevsky but he is not supposed to be a complete one-for-one in every sense of the word. They’re supposed to just be minor nods to the real Dostoyevsky.) ❤ Reblogs are appreciated ❤

𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝒾𝓉 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓈𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝐼 𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝓈𝒶𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒻𝒶𝒸𝑒? 𝒮𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓉𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓈𝓅𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝑒𝓀𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓃𝒹? 𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒 𝐼 𝓈𝒶𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒷𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝑒𝓀 𝒾𝓃 𝒾𝓇𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃, 𝑜𝓇 𝓈𝒶𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓃𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓈𝒸𝓇𝓊𝓃𝒸𝒽 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓁𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽𝑒𝒹? 𝒪𝒽...𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝐼'𝒹 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓁𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃. 𝒯𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓈𝓂𝒾𝓁𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝒶 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓈𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓈 𝒸𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝒶 𝒸𝓊𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓈.... ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ The lake always looks mystical early in the morning at this time of year. A faint mist rolls over the mirrored surface as dancers in orange and yellow descend from their places in the comforting embrace of timber and bark. Soldiers of fading green, browns and oranges line the lake, swaying in the soft, chilly breeze. Bird song and the gentle scurrying of the forest’s dwellers is the perfect symphony to this backdrop. Yes. This was why Fyodor always sat outside to write. He felt a peace unlike anything else when he sat at his small outdoor table, the earth claiming the furniture by wrapping tendrils of green around its leg. He doesn’t mind. He never had any intentions of moving it after all. A single page sat at his hands, one hand elegantly moving across it as he writes in Russian, his mother tongue. The sound of his pen scratching against the white sheet tickles his brain pleasantly, each stroke deliberate and careful. Fyodor would only write the drafts of his novels on paper. He would never touch a keyboard. Even when conversing with his agent he would only use his phone. With his long distant friend and fellow author, he opted for letters. Technology was something Fyodor wasn’t fond of. His deep, purple eyes rise from the page, tired eyes scanning the horizon before him. He notices a few russet sparrows flying over the lake. For a moment, he even thinks he can see a fox on the other side of the lake, disappearing into the treeline. Yes. This view was far more enjoyable than some television or computer screen. He breathes deeply, taking in the rich, earthy air around him. It wouldn’t be long until this view would be painted in white, the frigid air forcing him to stay indoors far more than he would have liked to be there. The novelist was a homebody, that much was true. But he spent most of his time outdoors when he wrote his stories. Or rather, attempted to. His current novel had been giving him a bit of grief as of late. “Romance novels are popular right now!” He could still hear his agent’s voice insisting. “With the works you’re already known for, I bet the world is dying to see your take on one! Plus, if we partner with this company and make it an international release, the revenue would tie you over so you can focus on a novel you actually want to write!” Fyodor scoffs. He wouldn’t have even considered writing such a novel, were it not for the fact that his funds were looking a bit depressed as of late, due to a few recent large expenses that needed to be paid. His eyes scanned over to his wristwatch; it was still a few hours yet until his guest would arrive. Another matter his agent had been too insistent on that Fyodor had begrudgingly accepted.

He didn’t understand why she had been so pushy about the matter of an assistant. He had managed so far on his own. He didn’t need any help. These were his stories to tell. Sighing, Fyodor rises from his chair. He moves towards his small, cozy dwelling, his raven hair ruffled by the Autumn breeze. Perhaps a nice pot of tea would get those creative juices flowing again. ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵ A soft breeze teases your hair and scarf as you walk up the winding stone path, heading deeper into the heart of the forest, an eerie fog cast across the sky. The trees sway their branches in the wind as if greeting you as sunlight filters through the thick branches, showers of yellow and orange descending on your path as you walk. You see an old, rough-looking tabby cat that gives a low mewl before disappearing over the fence like an elegant shadow. You notice a few small cottages scattered around the area. One is at the top of a flight of narrow cobblestone steps. Another is nestled near some thick bushes and trees, almost devouring the structure in its natural embrace.

The thin fence lining the pathway is overgrown with thick vines and small flowers here and there, with tall trees and other flora about, creating an almost fairytale-like appearance. Everything here is quiet and still, aside from the chirps of a few insects and the whistling of birds. You clutch your orange coat closer to your body, the fabric blending in with your environment as excitement runs through every inch of your veins. This was the opportunity you had been searching for! What were the chances that you’d run into a literary agent while heading to the unemployment centre to ask for help? It was as though God himself had lifted an olive branch for you.

The agent, Vivian, had looked at you with such joy when you explained that you were looking for experience helping authors get their works published. You wanted to help however you could, whether that be as an editor, a translator or even a beta reader! You just wanted a way to step into this field finally. You had grown up with a love for books and stories. You wanted to be part of the process to get these books created. “Well, I have just the guy for you,” Vivian had replied, a small smirk on her lips as she handed you her business card with a name written on the back. The name of the novelist she had been helping for the past decade. Fyodor Dostoyevsky.

You had never heard of the man before. Walking along the quiet stone path, heading towards a large archway overgrown with blossoming flowers, you wonder if he wrote under a pen name. You were so excited to meet him! Oh, but you needed to calm down and relax. Don’t make this weird! You walk through the archway, the gentle aroma of the blossoming flowers filling your senses as your eyes fall on the crystal-clear lake before you. The water was a calm, almost mystical blue, with nothing disturbing its perfect surface. It looked like it could have been the subject of an oil painting. You blink, the trance broken as you notice movement. An older gentleman sits at a small outdoor table, a small porcelain teacup in hand. You notice a few strands of grey in his otherwise dark hair, along with the dark crescent moons under his mystifying yet cold purple eyes. You wondered if they were from late nights of writing stories or brainstorming.

He looked more frail than you were expecting. Quite lithe. He reminded you of a scarecrow. He was almost swimming in the dark coat covering his shoulders, even his white scarf seemed to be looped multiple times more around his throat. You tense as his eyes flicker up, meeting yours. The teacup moves back towards the saucer, resting upon it with a soft clink. He lifts one of his hands, beckoning you closer. You come to stand before him, your heart pounding out of nervousness and excitement. This was it. The first day of the rest of your life! Things would only be looking up from here! Before you can speak, the gentleman interrupts you. His thick Russian accent sends a slight shiver down your spine, “You’re the assistant Vivian sent.” He looks you up and down slowly. You can feel the judging look in his eyes as he scans you carefully, “You have no experience in this field and yet you agreed to be my assistant. Fascinating…” You swallow, trying to calm yourself. You almost burst into excited rambles as you begin to speak in a rather rapid tone, your giddiness getting the better of you, “Y-yes sir! You see, it’s always been a dream of–” “Enough.” He says suddenly, shaking his head. Those dark eyes of his stare coldly into yours, your excited heartbeat being frozen still in your chest as he adds, “I do not wish to hear your life story. You are here to do a job. And I expect you to do it well.”

You try and speak up, “Shouldn’t we go inside–” “No. You will work out here,” he cuts you off as he reaches down to a leather bag by the side of his chair, hidden from view. He lifts it, passing it over to you as he speaks, “Within this is the first three chapters of my latest novel. I need you to proofread, edit and translate it into English by the end of the week.” You tense; the end of the week? You supposed you could handle that. What’s the most he could have done? Really? Maybe ten thousand words total? You take out the first group of papers. It looks like he’s stapled each chapter together. There’s no title page yet, so it starts straight on the prologue. One issue becomes apparent very quickly. One big, glaring issue. Fyodor’s handwriting. He had written in fluent Russian from what you could tell. But his handwriting was quite…well, it was cursive? It was hard for you to put into words. The best way you could describe it was like a doctor’s handwriting. “Excuse me, Mr. Dostoyevsky?” You look up from the first page. Fyodor is gazing across the lake, sipping on his tea once more. He doesn’t spare you a glance as you continue, your tone soft and polite, “I’m having some trouble reading your handwriting. I don’t suppose you have a typed version I could reference instead?” His dark eyes slowly turn over to you. You swear you feel the cold of a hundred Winters rush through your body at once, “If you can’t translate it, then I shall call Vivian right now and inform her that sending someone illiterate does not help me in the slightest.”

‘Illiterate??’ You quietly think, feeling both offended and furious. ‘At least my writing doesn’t look like a chicken walked all over my page!’ Biting your tongue, you nod. You would make this work, just to spite this guy. ‘Just think about the end goal. Someone out there is going to love this book. You just need to focus on your goal..’ It’s a daunting task, one you weren’t sure you could achieve. But you were going to put your damnest into this job more so than ever now. ✩

Eyeing his new assistant from across the table, Fyodor’s heart twists in some cold form of rebellion and anger. Vivian didn’t mention that she was sending someone like you. Had he known that, he would have called his overseas friend to go and stay with him while working on this novel that he didn’t even want to write. His eyes scan you, watching as your pen glides across the paper, translating his words carefully. A smug smirk rises onto his lips, noting how many times you stop and start. He notices the way your brows furrow in irritation. You were already struggling. It was only a matter of time before you gave up and admitted defeat, running away from his little piece of heaven with tears in your eyes and a white flag in your hands. He liked that thought. That thought brought him peace. “You’re going to have to work faster than that,” he suddenly says, sounding very proud of himself. You don’t look up, your hands and eyes continuing to move as he adds, “Vivian wants the book by the end of the year. If you can’t handle getting three chapters done by the end of the week, you’re useless to me and any other author.” He notices your jaw clenching. He sees the way you swallow down whatever response you keep to yourself, instead replying with a soft “Yes, Mr. Dostoyevsky.” If he breaks you down enough, will you submit faster? Will that get you away from him faster? He’s silent for a long while, his gaze slowly returning to the scenic view before him. It soothes him and assures him he will soon have his space and peace returned to him. He lifts his teacup, sipping the warm liquid slowly. He just had to bide his time and wait. You would crack eventually. He would make sure of it. ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵

Even though Fyodor treated you coldly and barely even spoke to you, you were intrigued by his writing. It felt like his words had a grip on you, filling you with the urge, that desperate need to know what happens next. The novel was about a young man. From what you had read, he was an extremely lonely man. No matter how Fyodor wrote him, or what scenes he was in, he was always alone, even when surrounded by people. But there was one thing you wouldn’t understand. “If this is supposed to be a romance novel,” you say slowly. “Then where is the other lead? What’s this guy going to romance, himself in the mirror?” “Oh come on now, cut him some slack,” the warm voice of your best friend chimes over the phone. “This is just the first three chapters, right? He’s probably just laying down the groundwork for now. I mean..” She pauses, hesitating before adding in a teasing tone, “The main female lead in that story you read didn’t get a proper romantic interest till like, what, book four?” “Hey, you say that like I wanted her to have one!” You joke, giggling as you walk up the winding stone path on your way to Fyodor’s. It was almost week’s end and despite having a handful of paragraphs left, you were almost done translating the first three chapters. Though it wasn’t an easy task. You had learnt that Fyodor had a habit of rambling in his stories. Sometimes, this made parts more fleshed out. More interesting and intriguing to you. But you didn’t need to know the full backstory of some random man sitting by a lake if he wasn’t going to be important to the story later on. “I want to give him some advice,” you say into the phone, your voice suddenly more serious. You notice the pair of village cats nearby as you pause in place. The younger orange tabby cat attempts to play with the old tabby, the older of the pair growling as he backs away, “But is it my place to give him advice? I mean…he is the author. It’s his story. I have no right to tell him how to write it.”

You hear a hum on the other end of the line as you start moving again, approaching the familiar archway. Then, “You could always try it. But this Fyodor guy doesn’t sound like the type who would take your advice onboard. You’re still so new to this field, your ears are still green!” You chew on your inner cheek, sighing. The chances that Fyodor would listen to you were slim to none. You understood that already. It didn’t take a genius to know where you stood in his regard. But you wanted to help Fyodor make improvements to his book. You look up at the archway, a gentle breeze pushing against your back as you sigh in defeat. “I’ll call you tonight and let you know how badly he chews me out.” You end the call, hiding your phone in your pocket, walking through the archway and into the lush clearing. You were already expecting to be greeted with the typical iciness from the author as you approach his table. “Ah, you’re finally here,” he greets you. His tone isn’t exactly friendly, but it’s not as frosty as you were expecting. There’s a faint hint of hibiscus in the air as the soft breeze draws the scent of his tea of the day to you. Yesterday was ginger. The day before was turmeric. He always had a fresh pot every morning when you arrived. But he never offered you a cup. Regardless, you come to sit at his table, your chair creaking faintly as you reach into your messenger bag, pulling out the last few pages of the first three chapters of his novel before speaking, “I’ve almost finished with these chapters,” you let him know, a flame of warmth in your voice. “I only have a few more paragraphs to go. Though I have to say–” You rummage around your bag, searching for your lucky pen as you continue, “--I quite enjoy your writing. It's captivating. Sometimes I feel like I’m hanging on the end of your every word–” “Flattery will get you nowhere,” Fyodor quickly interjects, deep eyes narrowing at you, the dark hoops under his eyes making him look more menacing. A shiver runs down your spine as he nods at the paper before you, “Get to work and stop wasting your time with idle chatter.”

‘Oh, so I can’t even compliment you?’ You quietly think, your hand wrapping around your lucky pen. You pull the gold and black ballpoint pen out, clicking it to life as you begin working, huffing and puffing in annoyance in your mind, ‘Fine then. Maybe I just won’t speak to you again. God, I hope all writers aren’t this entitled.’ You catch yourself, your fingers caressing the side of the ballpoint pen as the gold edge shines in the early sun. No…you knew all writers weren’t like Fyodor. He was a rotten apple surrounded by batches of bright, red fruit. He wasn’t going to stop you from reaching your dream. He would not stomp that flame out. A silence falls over you and Fyodor. It’s not an uncomfortable silence, but it’s not quite pleasant either. It just simply is. You glance up now and then to see Fyodor sipping on his tea, his eyes always drawn to the distance. You scan his expression for a few moments, your pen stopping its movements. He doesn’t notice you looking at him as he stares almost longingly into the distance, his dark eyes shrouded with depths of emotion you struggle to comprehend. But there is one emotion there that is most obvious to you. It’s a look of deep, suffocating loneliness. He stares, as if seeing something in the distance you cannot. He is silent and still. You barely even see his chest rising and falling with his breaths as a gentle breeze tousles his raven hair, as though an invisible hand would be combing through each lock with a careful, almost affectionate touch. Then, as if returning to reality, he blinks, his gaze slowly shifting to meet yours. You stare at one another, frozen in time for just a heartbeat. There is no coldness, no scolding. Just you and him and his sad, lonely eyes. For a moment, you almost decide to ask if he’s okay. Almost.

But as quickly as you see this side of Fyodor, it disappears under frozen blinds and walls of ice. His dark eyes glare at you, hiding the emotions you saw behind a careful shield as he scolds, “Why are you wasting time staring into space? Get back to work.” You shake your head, snapping out of your trance, eyes gliding back to the paper at your hands. You don’t speak a word and merely focus on those last few paragraphs. You knew what you saw. That cold facade cracked for just a moment to reveal something more to this man than you originally thought. There was more to Fyodor than the cold wall you kept smashing again. Your pen glides across the paper, finishing the last few translated lines. You smile to yourself, placing the ballpoint pen down on the garden table before looking up at Fyodor, pride glittering in your eyes. You’d completed the first obstacle he’d put in your way, “I’m done, Mr. Dostoyevsky.” His eyes graze over your smile, the proud glimmer in your eyes, then move down towards the sheet of paper at your fingertips. He turns his body, sitting at the table properly now as he nods at you, “Let me check.” Taking the rest of the pages out of your bag, you slide each completed chapter over to him, your hands carefully caressing the top sheet before passing it over. You were hoping this would prove your value to Fyodor and get him to start treating you…well, like someone trying to help him. Like a proper translator. Like someone actually trying to get his book published. He’s silent for a long while as he flips through the translated chapters. He murmurs to himself every now and then in Russian; sometimes he sounds almost fascinated. Other times, he sounds annoyed. Then, at last, when he’s midway through the second chapter, “This is precisely why I didn’t want to do an international release. My words simply do not translate well into English.” “We could work together to find a suitable substitute for your words in English,” you suggest. The moment his dark eyes pierce into yours, you gulp. “If you wanted to. It won’t be exactly the same but I’m sure we could find a nice middle ground.”

He’s silent for a while as if thinking over your words. Then his eyes travel back to the page, murmuring, “We can try. But I assure you, you won’t be able to translate it perfectly. The English language is incapable of properly translating what I’m attempting to convey–” ‘There he goes again, acting all high and–,’ your grumpy thoughts are interrupted as a thought strikes you like a bolt from the blue. You resist the urge to gasp. Wait…was this the first proper, positive reaction you’ve gotten from Fyodor? He accepted you reaching out a hand to him? Then maybe now was your chance! You gasp a little, suddenly standing up, much to both yours and Fyodor’s surprise. He looks up at you, taken off guard as you suddenly blurt out, “Um! In that case, I had some other advice I wanted to give to! It’s in regards to that man you focus the second chapter on!” “I don’t know if he has any significance to the plot or not, but is it really necessary to have the last twenty pages focused just on his backstory?" "Because it seems like you could use these pages to develop the male lead further or even bring in the female lead! Are you intending for him to have a larger role or–” “You dare to have the audacity to lecture me on how to write my novel?” Fyodor’s cold voice cuts you off, his eyes narrowing at you dangerously. You can almost feel your voice being stolen by his anger, as he continues you glare daggers at you so sharp, that you feel that little shred of confidence and pride you’d finally gained being ripped to shreds before you. “You translate three chapters and that’s it? You’re suddenly an expert in the writing world, are you?” He scoffs, laughing at you mockingly. He tosses the translated pages onto the table, his eyes continuing to stare into your own shocked eyes. His voice grows harsher as he suddenly begins to speak in his native tongue.

“Сверхуважаемая госпожа, я хочу напомнить вам, что ваше право на собственное мнение не обязывает меня слушать этот бред. Молчание - великий талант. Мой совет вам: если у вас будут мысли, держите их при себе; в наше время умные люди молчат, а не разговаривают. Я вас здесь не нанял для авторского выступления, так что будьте любезны, работайте и не стройте из себя Александром Сергеевичем Пушкиным.” *

He stands suddenly, leaving you stunned in place, unable to find your voice. You watch in stunned horror as he storms towards his cottage, tucked and hidden within the wilderness of the trees and shrubbery. He enters it, slamming the door behind him before you can utter another word. You feel both stunned and horrified. You had no idea what he had just said to you but why did it feel like you just lost your job? ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵ “You should have cut him some slack.”

“Do you really think I need to hear that right now?”

“You know it wasn’t your place to criticize him like that–”

“I know…I don’t know what came over me…” You sigh heavily, sinking into the thick duvet on your bed as your heart aches within the tight confines of your chest. The sound of the city beyond your apartment blares outside. The distant siren of an ambulance. The loud yells of passerbys. A dog’s loud barks as the scent of cigarette smoke and fumes waft through your apartment window.

It wasn’t the classiest apartment, very far from it, but it was the only place you could afford right now with the allowance you were receiving from the government, along with what little savings you had left. You sigh, running a hand through your messy hair, “I genuinely didn’t mean to do it. I just got so excited. I felt like he was finally accepting me into his world…” You lower your voice, sounding more upset. “But now I’ve gone and ruined it all…not even a week in...”

You lift your other hand, holding up your gold and black ballpoint pen once more. You twirl it between your fingers, Fyodor’s harsh expression still vivid in the back of your mind. You felt like you really offended him. You hadn’t meant to. You just wanted to help. But you understood how your words had come across as hurtful. You didn’t know the story Fyodor was plotting out. You didn't know if this man was going to play a pivotal role and yet you–

You hear a loud crunch on the other end of the line, causing you to wince and yelp in surprise, your thoughts broken through instantly, “Ack! Trixie! Hold the phone away next time!” “Mrm! Sorry girl, but look-” Trixie goes silent for a few moments while she finishes chewing whatever she’s eating. Then, she speaks again, sounding quite calm as she gives you her advice, “--I think you owe him an apology. This guy is not only your senior career wise, but he’s the literal author of the book you’re translating.”

You frown as she goes on, your eyes glued to your ballpoint pen as the streetlight outside touches it, making the golden parts gleam, “What kind of things does he like? You know, besides sitting and staring at the lake all day.”

You think over Trixie’s words, eyes sparkling with the golden hue coming from your pen. Fyodor hadn’t spoken to you much these past few days since you began working as his translator. He greeted you, scolded you to start work and then sat in silence until the day’s end. Did he like anything besides staring at the lake and–

Suddenly, you sit up in your bed, and your loose, white nightgown drops over your frame, the old springs of the bed squeaking softly. That was what you could get him to apologize! You would need to get some research in tonight and wake up early to head to the store tomorrow. You were sure there was a speciality store for this type of thing on the other side of town.

Moments before you’re about to hang up, you get a second call. Your eyes widen as you read the name on the screen; Vivian. Your heart leaps into your throat. “Sorry Trix, I have to go,” you quickly say, rising from your bed to move over to your kitchen counter where your laptop was sitting, charging. “I’ll call you when I can.”

“Keep me updated on your situation with your author man!” Trixie manages to chime back before you end the call, picking up Vivian’s seconds later.

“Yes? Hello, Vivian?” You quickly answer, holding your phone with your cheek while typing into your laptop’s keyboard, searching through the specific results you had pulled up.“I’m surprised you’re still up. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised; all those involved in the literary world seem to be night owls.” She chuckles, before clearing her throat.

You scroll through the results page as Fyodor’s agent keeps speaking to you, “I presume you know why I’m calling. I just got off the phone to Fyodor regarding the…incident.” The incident…

You cringe at it being referred to like that. Your heartbeat picks up as you stand up straight, a deeply apologetic tone in your voice, “I know, I know, I was in the wrong. It’s Mr. Dostoyevsky’s book and he’s free to write however he pleases. I just got a little head of myself and–!”

“Easy,” Vivian whispers soothingly. It almost feels like she’s there with you, patting your shoulder and assuring you it's okay. “Fyodor is still a tad…appalled at your behaviour, but I have managed to convince him to give you another chance due to how efficiently and well you translated his first chapters.” A gasp escapes your throat; before your hopes can get too high, she quickly adds in a tone that reminds you of a stern teacher, “But this is your last chance. He’s said if you step out of line again, you’re out.”

“No…no, I understand perfectly!” You run a hand through your messy hair, resisting the urge to jump and dance around in glee. Oh thank God, you didn’t lose this chance! Your gaze flickers back towards the laptop screen, the results still silently waiting for you. You knew you still had to apologize properly for what you had done.

“I promise, neither of you will regret this.” You begin writing down an address frantically on a sticky note, looking up the coordinates to the location on the other side of town. You click your tongue, planning everything out in your head. Yes, if you wake up earlier, you will have the time to swing by and get everything ready before visiting Fyodor tomorrow morning without being late.

Suddenly, Vivian’s voice breaks through the silence, cutting you out of your thoughts, “I shouldn’t be saying this but do me a favour, would you?” She pauses for a moment. You focus more on her as she adds, “Cut Fyodor some slack.”

“Wh-what?” Is all you manage to breathe out. Everyone keeps telling you to do that. Were you in an echo chamber? Or did everyone else just see something you couldn't? She continues, sighing heavily and you swear you hear a pen being placed down, judging from the gentle tap you hear on her side of the call.

“It isn’t my tale to tell, but I will inform you that Fyodor has been through a lot as of late.” You frown deeply as you hear this. “This is his returning novel after taking some time away from his career, so all I ask is that you show him the same patience you would want to be shown.”

Your mind stews those words over silently as you chew the inside of your cheek. The novelist you were working with was an enigma. He was more mysterious than the deepest pits of the ocean, and more closed off than a crime scene. You only had his name. His career. And the gift of being able to read his captivating story. Well, part of it.

Just who was Fyodor exactly? And what had he gone through to make him the way he is now?

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵

The sky was overcast and angry as you began to make your trek towards Fyodor’s quaint cottage. You sprint along the stone path as the sky rumbles like a beast, growling as the clouds light up, warning you of the upcoming downpour that is about to begin. Clutching the bouquet you’d bought close, along with the small gift bag, you run through the archway.

The usual clear, mirror-like surface of the lake was black and menacing, nowhere near as picturesque as it had been for the entire week. No birds were singing. Branches waved violently in the strong winds that buffeted against them, sending spirals of leaves cascading around, like mini tornados of color.

You barely manage to hold onto your bouquet and gift, grimacing as you notice Fyodor isn’t sitting at the usual spot today. You look towards his cottage, the trees and shrubbery around it rustling violently against the strong gusts as well. They almost look like they’re clinging onto the cottage to keep themselves rooted. You catch a glimpse of that old tabby cat sprinting up to the door, his paws reaching up and scratching at the timber desperately and at once, it opens.

You see Fyodor, wrapped in a thicker cloak than normal along with what seems to be an old ushanka on his head, keeping his face warm. He opens the door to let the feline inside, cloak dragging on the floor behind him like a cape. Rubbing against the Russian’s legs, the tabby darts inside, away from the rough weather. But he doesn’t follow the feline; his dark eyes lift, meeting yours across the way.

He watches as the wind tousles your long hair as though playing with the elegant strands, your bright, vibrant coat of orange a stark contrast against the blackening sky but matching perfectly with the leaves falling from rustling trees around you. He sees the way your brown scarf aggressively sways in the violent breeze as the sky growls a final warning. He says nothing as he watches you. Is he waiting for you? His eyes scan you once, twice…it’s like he’s taking you in for the first time.

Like this, you look like a single glowing ember in the darkness of the world, seconds away from being snuffed out and devoured by the shadows.

Not wanting to be left out in this downpour, you sprint towards Fyodor, a loud crack echoing across the sky as it lights up, lighting striking somewhere in the distance as you pick up the pace. Without a word still, he steps aside, letting you run in just as it begins to storm. Cold droplets pour from the sky as it roars, another loud crack is heard in the distance. Rain begins to patter loudly on the roof of Fyodor's humble home, almost cleansing the land.

You hear the door close, along with a lock being turned, clicking into place. You turn to face Fyodor, noticing that the room is not illuminated by the bulbs hanging overhead but by candlelight. There are candleholders along the wall, lighting the hallway in a warm, welcoming light. Flickers of yellow dance across Fyodor’s face, his dark purple eyes practically invisible in the dark of the cottage.

Gripping the bouquet tighter, you hesitate to hand it over. Then, at last, you do, presenting the brilliant bouquet with a gentle hand. “Here,” you say softly, almost silently. “These are for you.”

You watch as his calculating eyes trace along each chosen flower; the blue hyacinths to the white orchids, to the few lilies of the Valley. He hesitates to accept them as his eyes turn back to you. He must be waiting to hear her apology out loud, “I’d like to say I’m sorry for overstepping.” The plastic around the bouquet crinkles as you grip it tighter.

“I am both your junior and not an author,” you begin, fighting back down every inch of your pride to make sure your apology comes across as genuine. “I had no right to tell you how to write your story. I’m only here to translate it into English so I’m sorry. It will not happen again.” You also present your other hand, holding the gift bag out to Fyodor. “I hope you can forgive me and we can start fresh.”

He eyes the gift bag, reaching for it first. He peers inside, hiding his surprise behind his cold eyes as he notices the variety of tea leaves you’ve purchased for him. These are all high-quality leaves from a teashop on the other side of town. Passionfruit drop. Cream black tea. Autumn spice. He looks up at you, raising a brow curiously.

You squirm under his gaze, anxiously waiting for a reply. Would he accept the apology? Would he not? It felt like time was frozen as you and Fyodor stared at one another, his deep, purple eyes peering into the very depths of your soul as if trying to see if you were truly sorry in the very pit of your heart.

Then he moves past you. You feel your heartbeat freeze in your chest and then–

“Come along. I will brew some tea while you begin work translating chapter four.”

Warmth spreads across your chest instantly, your heart fluttering in your chest, a smile breaking out on your face as you turn, following Fyodor through the candlelit hall towards what you presumed to be the kitchen, your apology bouquet in hand.

You wouldn’t admit it out loud, but you were both glad Fyodor had seemingly accepted your apology…and excited to read the fourth chapter of his novel. Even if he rambled on for the next forty pages and didn’t progress the plot. Your ankle boots click against the old wooden flooring as you hurry after the author.

✩ You were an enigma to Fyodor. Despite the cold walls he had placed securely around himself and the distance he had tried to keep from you, you kept coming back. Did this job really mean that much to you or were you just that desperate for money?

Or perhaps you were here for other reasons.

The kettle’s loud whistle shakes Fyodor from his web of thoughts. He takes it off the stove, bringing it over to his preferred ceramic teapot, decorated with painted pink carnations, filling it with the boiling water before moving on to inserting the mesh tea infuser, full of some of the new leaves you brought him.

As the aromatic smell of spices fills the air, he turns his thoughtful eyes to where you sit at his dining table, reading over the fourth chapter of his novel. He sees your smile behind the pages. The way your eyes gleam as you read and reread paragraphs. It even looked like you were no longer struggling to read his handwriting.

He felt warmth stirring in his heart. Fyodor had seen from reviews and heard from Vivian that his works were well-beloved, but seeing you smile and the joy in your eyes was something else entirely. It stirred something deep within his soul.

You actually did enjoy his story. You weren’t just going along with the crowd or agreeing with a friend because it was a popular piece. You were genuinely enjoying his work. He feels his heart pound for just a second before he turns away, focusing on the tea.

With slender hands, he pours the rich, orange liquid into the prepared porcelain teacups, the fragrance growing even stronger in the room. Between the sound and smell of the pouring rain and terrifying thunder and the earthy, aromatic smell of the Autumn spice tea, Fyodor felt his shoulders relaxing as he brought the two teacups over to the dining table, just in time to hear you gasp quietly.

Ah, you must’ve gotten to the part where the female lead is fleetingly introduced. For a moment, Fyodor finds himself smiling.

Dividers: @/saradika * Translation:  Dear Madam, I want to remind you that your right to your own opinion does not oblige me to listen to this nonsense. Silence is a great talent. My advice to you: if you have thoughts, keep them to yourself; Nowadays, smart people are silent, not talking. I didn’t hire you here for an author’s speech, so be kind, work and don’t pretend to be Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin.

#bungou stray dogs #fyodor x reader #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader

[chastiefoul]

he said something hurtful

characters: childe & zhongli genre: hurt and comfort wc: 1.4k

Childe

it’s been such a stressful day for the eleventh fatui harbinger. all these paperwork but no place to let out his pent up frustration to; battles. he’s been stuck to the duty for too many days now and when he said it was not going to get to him, perhaps that was overconfidence.

 “here, i made you tea hope it helps you to relax a little,” you said as you put the glass on his desk at a reasonable distance away from his work. he hummed a lazy response as gratitude. you’d learnt not to take these gestures to heart since he’s palpably stressed and you all of people knew that childe is the most loving man you’ve ever been with. “anything else i can do for you?” you asked, genuinely wanted to assist him in any way you could. he just shook his head, “it’s fine,” he said curtly.

“massages? back rubs? need me to get anything from somewhere?” you tried again, seeing his not so good expression at a particular part of the paper he’s looking at, wanting to at least ease him a little.

“gods, (y/n),” he said with the most exasperated tone that it made you a little nervous. “can you be quiet for a second? what the hell do you think you can do for me?”

you gasped quietly at the outburst and childe regretted the words as soon as it came out from his mouth. “(y/n), baby i’m sorry i didn’t mean th-“ but you quickly cut him off, wanting to get out of the room as soon you can. “i’ll just leave,” you whimpered, voice clearly holding back tears. at this childe’s heart twinged with even more guilt, he swiftly chased you and brought you close to his chest. “i’m sorry, that was stupid and horrible of me, sorry (y/n),” he repeated the apologies as he rubbed circles on your back. you held back a sob yet to no avail tears still fell to his shoulder. “i just wanted to help,” you mumbled. “i know and you do, my baby always does the best things for me,” he kept you in his hold as he planted kisses on your forehead. “i always worry over you, childe. if i bother you i wish you could’ve just tell me nicely.”

“i’m sorry, i took out my frustration on you, ‘m sorry baby. won’t happen again, i promise. please don’t leave.” childe’s hold on you got tighter, he wished he could turn back time and hit his past-self for running his mouth like that when you’ve been nothing but kind to him. he brought your face close to his, wiping your tears with his thumbs. you looked at him, the apparent raw regret painted all over his face. “stay? please?”

“mhm, but none of that again, okay? ever,” you warned him. “promise. sorry again, you’re too good to me.” he continued embracing you.

Zhongli

you had promised zhongli to assist him with his work, he asked you to bring over a document from clerk zhao 9 a.m. sharp as it is was a very important task to do. he told you that a few days prior about it saying that he would have no time to do it himself thus asking for your help since there’s nobody in the world he trusted more than you. and of course you were more than happy to do it if it helped him even just a little.

the said day was approaching. you felt that your body was slightly sluggish the night before as you prepared to go to bed yet you thought nothing of it and assumed would get better if you just slept it off, but you were wrong. you woke up feeling extremely sick along with a terrible headache. but that wasn’t your biggest concern, you looked over the clock and its hour hands clearly showed: 9.30 a.m.

with your best ability at your current condition—which was very limited, you quickly forced yourself up and rushed to do the task zhongli has entrusted you in. you were struggling as you arrive at feiyun slope area that even clerk zhao showed concern and asked if you were okay which to you answer that you were just fine, when in fact you were clearly not. yet your bigger worry that minute was getting that document to zhongli as he said that it’s a very important matter and you must not be late. however with such a sick body, you arrived at the wangsheng funeral parlor a little over ten a.m.

you burst open his office, “zhongli, i’m so sor-“

“where were you?” he cut you off rather rudely, and he does not do that. “sorry, i-“ you tried again.

“i had told you that this is a very important matter, yet here you are being carelessly tardy.” his usual gentle tone was nowhere to be found, you found yourself in a very bad state, it took everything out of you to just even stand up right that second and he couldn’t see that. even clerk zhao immediately noticed it. you were not even going to make excuse, you just wanted him to listen. “zhongli, please listen-“

“this was such a mistake. i regret relying on you.” he swiftly took the paper on your hand, his back turned and faced you as he sort out his business on his desk. it wasn’t until he heard a sniffle that he had realized what he just said. mistake. regret.

“dear, i-“

you were already started to leave his office, one of your hand was on the wall supporting your own weight as you felt extremely weak and fatigued from all the running around a sick person should not be doing.

“(y/n), wait please i—you’re very warm!” he claimed loudly as his hand touched your arm. “sweetheart, do you have a fever?” he reached out a hand to feel your forehead but you swatted it away. “it’s nothing, just get back to your work.” you attempted to release yourself, but zhongli had another idea on mind as the former god of rock suddenly carried you to a room where there’s a bed as he lied you there and tucked you in a blanket. you who barely any strength just let him did whatever as you turned your back on him the moment your body touched the bed. the wound from his words still fresh on your mind as you cried. you knew that it was your fault that you’re late, however zhongli acted way out of line. his tone and harsh words were very unfamiliar to you.

zhongli looked at your back as he was eaten away by guilt. if only he could just listen. to think he was very adamant to not listen to you when all you wanted to do was to explain yourself and he said that crap instead which he didn’t mean at all.

he truly meant it when he said he would entrust even his life to you.

zhongli was late on realizing the severe damage he just caused over the harsh words he spouted in the heat of the moment. whatever the reason, he should have not done that, not to anyone, especially not to the love of his life. but in reality was he did.

“love, i apologize.” he knelt beside the bed. when that met no response he continued, “that was very foolish of me. i didn’t know what i was talking about. you’re my whole world, i rely on you the most. how very stupid that i could even have the nerve to say that when i do nothing but lean on you everyday in my life.” his voice heavy with remorse as he hesitantly rubbed your arm, trying to soothe you. “to think i just made my sick lover running around like that... i apologize.”

“i wasn’t trying to make excuses, zhongli. i did not choose to be sick.” your voice was meek, zhongli’s chest squeezed in pain, how could he make you say things like this. “of course not, even with your condition you still did your best for me and i reacted like that, i really deserve your anger.”

he saw that tears still ran across your face and it broke his heart. “dear, please, what i don’t deserve is your tears.” he gently turned you to face him, wiping your tears with his fingertip. you slowly stopped crying as zhongli kept whispering apologies and sweet words. “why don’t you get some rest first? we’ll talk again after you feel better,”  zhongli said softly. you who had no complaint over that only nodded, getting the sleep you’ve desperately needed.

seconds before you fell into your slumber you could feel a kiss on your forehead. “(y/n), i love you very much.”

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin fanfic #genshin x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin fluff #genshin angst #childe x reader #tartaglia x y/n #tartaglia x you #tartaglia x reader #genshin childe #zhongli x reader #zhongli fluff #childe angst #zhongli angst

[bubbipond]

A lot is going on currently but this scene takes the cake for me this episode. We see throughout the series that Jeff is very stone faced and rarely cracks a smile with anyone outside of Charlie. His trust in people is not very high and other than Charlie (and now we know this goes for Babes dad too) he does not feel like people are trust worthy. He has always either been used or feared because of his senses which made him believe he was a constant burden to the people he encountered. But now he has Alan who does not care about any of that. He wants to enhance Jeff’s life and show him that he can have that gift and have a family. That he does not need to be alone anymore because they are choosing him. Which is why I love how after Charlie’s accident nothing changes in his position with the x-hunger team. They all still consider him like a brother whether Charlie exists or not. They all ran into action when he was missing-even Kim. They care about him even if they think he’s a bit odd. Now we are seeing Jeff have more emotion in his face with characters outside his brother. We get to see him embrace love and family in a way he did not believe he deserved. That’s why I think so many people love their relationship. It’s so slow and authentic. Alan isn’t rushing Jeff and Jeff isn’t still pushing Alan away.

Bonus: Alan making anyone and everyone feel at home and like family is my pit babe Roman Empire goodnight.

bonus bonus: saipon you better give me another series dang it!!!

#pit babe the series #alan x jeff #thai bl #AlanJeff #sailubpon #jeff x alan #oh nothing just my endless babbling

[chrollohearttags]

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫 • 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐮

“You make me wanna come through, a quarter after two..just to put it down on you.”

synopsis: a racy photo, risky texts and some red wine lead to one hell of a night when (y/n) receives an unexpected visit from your favorite suitor and he’s ready to show you a good time.

content warning and themes: black !fem reader (plus size and thick descriptors), praise kink, both switch choso and reader (choso with more of a sub lean), spit play, hair pulling, alcohol use, nipple play, handjob, edging, choso’s moans are so pretty :(, reverse cowgirl, pet names (mommy’s used, sweetheart, angel, babyboy, sweet girl) body worship, dry humping

📝: I’ve been excited to start this one for a while because Choso is a character I’ve been wanting to explore more of. Thank you so much to @rav3nmuse for commissioning this piece and supporting me. I hope that you enjoy and that I did him justice!

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿════✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖ ══✿══

a serene and peaceful Saturday night was currently underway with no intention for it to remain so. The clock had just struck a little past midnight as the warm air and slightly cool winds whipped around outside of your cozy abode. A home you shared with no one other than the one feline companion that strutted around at its leisure; quiet and calm on most days but as you’d hope tonight, would be a lot more lively. (Y/N) (L/N), a beautiful and bodacious woman with a personality to match. One that attracted many pursuers in your life. Hence why you were currently stationed in front of a mirror in your bedroom, parading around proudly in a new ensemble that you had acquired during a much needed online shopping spree; spoiling yourself after a rather long week. Candy apple red lace wrapping around your delicate dark skin..cupping those big breasts and thick thighs, barely even covering the curvature of that plump ass. Which was all but fine to you, considering the entire goal was to entice and tempt one of your many options to come over and rip it off! Blonde finger waves residing atop your head and a freshly done set of acrylic nails lying across it as you’d glance back to the mirror and snap a couple shots. How could they possibly resist you looking damn near delectable? Hell, it was a crime that you weren't bent over in this glass and forced to look at yourself as one of them told you to take it..

the truth was, you were a rather promiscuous woman. Whereas most girls of your size and physique had been conditioned to be modest..bashful of your appearance, you embraced it proudly. Strutting about in pieces that showed off those curves and kept all eyes pointed in your direction. You were a firm believer in the fact that being humble got you nowhere..you were gorgeous and everyone was going to know it! Besides, not one roll, stretch mark or ounce of cellulite had ever stopped some of the sexiest men in this city from diving head first between your thighs; resting their foreheads on your pudgy tummy as they ate you out. They loved all of you and you loved all of them. At any time, they’d come running at your beck and call, and trust, you had a roster full! You were texting with a couple of them at that very moment, chuckling and laughing to yourself as you read their wild messages. Mainly in reaction to the photos and videos you were sending their way. Saying how sexy you looked and how desperately they craved to be burying their dicks inside of you..rather brash but exactly the energy you needed. A man that knew exactly what to do with it if you gave it to him. One of which was Satoru Gojo, a man as notorious for his good looks as for his impeccable pipe. He loved entertaining the ladies and was by far the biggest slut in your makeshift harem. A man with no morals and the one who’d be down to try anything. Unfortunately for you, he was out of town and too far away to come give you what you needed. On the contrary, there was his best friend, Suguru Geto..this one right here was a problem! He liked it rough and when he got ahold of it, you’d be stuck for days. Whether mentally or physically, because he’d have you walking with a limp. Choking you out until you tapped his arm and gasped for air..you could only handle him in small increments because you’d be ready to move him in!

then there was Kento Nanami. Far on the tamer side of things but still one hell of a lover! A man who would court you first, only to have you coming on his face shortly thereafter. He constantly made you feel like an absolute princess. Spoiling you with gifts, paying close attention to your needs and body. He was such a sweetheart but he also wasn’t the type to hook up at will. It was something he needed to be in the mood for and tonight, he expressed that he was far too tired to come out and see you but that he thought that you looked absolutely stunning. Which was of little consolation to your feelings of arousal at the moment. However, there was one who had eluded your mind and you couldn’t help but to kick yourself for doing so. The alternate option that you kept on tuck just for nights like this. It wasn’t for a lack of skill or the fact that he was unattractive, but he came into your life only a few months ago but boy, had he worked his way high up on your roster. Especially as of late with all of his sweet gestures and offerings that he’d often leave at your workplace or waiting on your doorstep when you came home. Tonight was no exception as before you could even hit his line to see if you could bait him over, Choso was already en route and bearing a bottle of wine; Pinot Noir to be exact, which was your favorite. One salacious snapshot was all it took to sell it and he was on his way. “Give me ten and have that on when I get there. I need to see that in person..” It was then that you began to grow far more excited for what was in store. It was whilst he was at the convenience store just down the road from your block, did he shoot you a quick facetime call and you received quite the pleasant preview of what you could expect. His short black shag styled into his normal two pigtails; stray pieces forming a bit of a bang on his forehead, a thin silver necklace with kanji lettering of his name, diamond studs in his ears and rings on his pinky and middle fingers. As well as a silver wristwatch. For his attire? A black t-shirt and Adidas sweats, with matching slides on his feet. His very recognizable birthmark forming a single line across his nose and that adorable pout that always melted you in so many ways. “Hey gorgeous..I’m on the way.” that drowsy, deep tone of his sendings pangs of warmth throughout your stomach and lower regions as well. “I can’t wait to see you..just come right in. The door’s unlocked. You know where to find me.” Signaling that you’d be awaiting his arrival exactly as he liked it; sprawled across the mattress, posing all sexy and ready for him to pounce. That was enough for him to end the call and continue his short commute. Not even a full ten minutes went by before you could hear the roar of his car engine outside of your bedroom window as the soft hum of sensual music played through the speakers of your television. A wine glass cusped between your fingertips gauntlet style as you lie positioned on your hip across the bed. Nothing more than a sheer robe covering that lacy material that was just dying to be torn off. You could feel yourself burning with sheer excitement and arousal. You just knew that tonight was going to be one for the books!

Some minutes passed before you heard the front door creak open, the sounds of scraping feet and him call out to you..

“(Y/Nnnn!)”

“I’m up here, Cho!”

Immediately following that sweet voice up the stairway and to the second room on the right side of the hall. The master bedroom, that had been dimly lit and illuminated in crimson colored glow. Upon entering, Choso found himself met with quite the sight. That sexy little two piece enveloped around your body and posed in such a suggestive way.

“..hey, pretty girl..damn..”

finding himself at a complete loss for words as he fully entered the room, set the bag on the nightstand and closed the door behind you both. His dark eyes fixated amid the red glow on his precious (y/n). “Hey, babyboy.” How he had longed all week to be back by your side; holding, touching and squeezing you. Never wanting to leave or let the intimate moments you shared end anytime soon. His reaction had clearly brought a smile to your face as those luscious, cherry painted lips curved to your dimpled cheeks. That curled finger circulating the rim of that wine glass as you took yet another sip. Resembling that of a real life goddess; an ethereal being right there in the flesh for his viewing pleasure. But glances weren’t all you wanted from him. More than anything, you craved his touch and to be teased. And if you were being completely honest..fucked into total submission! But Choso was a bit different from the other men you messed around with..he was more of the type to follow instructions rather than to give them. A far bigger giver than taker..so you’d wave him over with a single finger as you leaned up in the bed and sat against the edge of it, allowing him to kneel down before you. “Mmm..I missed you. Hadn’t seen you in a few days, I thought you’d disappeared.” Joking whilst gently rubbing the side of his face. Even tucking a few of those stray strands behind the ear. He had such an adorable pout and cute features, that you could admire that mug for days. Even more so when it was shoved between your thighs. “And leave you? Not a chance. Was just taking care of a few things, ‘s all. Nothing for you to worry that pretty little head of yours about.” That was the thing with Choso. He was the type to always put himself on the backburner and never share his troubles with anyone. He could be going through so much and never disclose a word. As far as he was concerned, when he stepped foot through your door, he could leave it all behind and find his solace. Which lied directly in your beautiful body. “Instead..” glancing up at you with a faint grin, he’d trail his fingers in random parts of your frame; rubbing on your back, legs, thighs, ass and stomach..seemingly caressing you all over and trying to get his fill. “I’d rather just focus on you..and do all those things we talked about.” There were countless flirtatious and downright sexual texts exchanged between you and Cho on a daily basis. Oftentimes, when you were both working; him in a research lab and you at your office job, you’d send one another suggestive videos, masturbating for the other..as well as sexy messages to follow. “Stroking myself for you. Wanna come..oh fuck.” Saying what he couldn’t verbally because he had to be silent so as not to get caught.

and you fingering yourself for him from behind your desk, moaning and whimpering his name. “Cho…look how wet you get me. Thinking about riding that dick so bad, baby.” All of it had aided in your overflowing desire for one another and now, it could be put into motion without any interruptions. Planted on his knees, Choso say obediently and eagerly as your fingertips grazed his cheek. Warmth began to overtake his entire being and fill him..reaching up to caress you once more. “Can I have you, baby? Please..I don’t wanna keep waiting..” his pleas became downright desperate whilst he grasped you all over. It was quite adorable how needy he became for you. How much he yearned to touch you, to pleasure you..and to make his sweet (y/n) smile brighter than anyone else had. See, the others may have been more experienced but he was far more hungry for it. Willing to do any and everything it took to please you and keep you satisfied. He was your clay; to mold and shape to your liking. (Y/N) broke into yet another cheeky grin, running your fingers along the underside of your chin to kiss him once more. Trust, the anticipation was killing you just the same but you decided to make him work for it for a little bit. Let him get his fill of feeling up your frame as the two of you made out. “Come here..” whispering gently, you brought your lips and faces together as one; pulling Choso to his feet and inevitably onto the bed. Lying atop your full figure..hands roaming all over as if he had no idea where to start. Too excited to focus but too aroused to just sit idly. So whilst your lips locked in a fury..slowly sucking on one another’s tongues whilst giving each other soft pecks, Choso’s palms made home on the lace material cupping your chest. His hips slowly rutted between your open thighs; almost as if he were edging himself along. Mumbling against your mouth before moving them to the tender skin on your neck. Meanwhile, his fingers were making home on those ample breasts. Once he freed them from their confines, Choso was a man unhinged..fixated on those beautiful mounds. There were no complaints on your end and rather, you’d merely watch while he worked his way down to your nipples.

“God..you're so pretty. Pretty fucking tits..pretty face..” his words trailing off before greedily sucking on those pretty brown buds. His tongue lapping and saliva trailing all over them. It was always his favorite when it came to foreplay..getting lost in the sensation of licking them and the feeling of your fingers wafting through his hair. Glaring with watchful eyes, (y/n) chewed profusely at your lower lip. It had been a pretty hectic week so being showered in adoration like this was just what you needed. “Mmm…my baby..you’re so beautiful…” that sweet voice trailing off into a deep whimper. Almost groaning as if he were completely and hopelessly hooked on you, even without a taste. Pulling back, retracting from your now sensitive nipples and feeling a trail of saliva along with it, his deep set eyes locked onto yours for a moment. “God, I need you so bad..please let me have you..” practically pleading to have the rest of you. But one stark difference between him and the others was that they never left you much room to be in control. You could see the sheer desperation in his face..to not only fuck you but fulfill every desire plaguing your brain. To enact every nasty thought running through both of your minds. Crawling onto the bed, Choso would begin working at that sensitive flesh of your neck once more and grinding against your open thighs; that erection swelling from the confines of his sweatpants. So desperate and needy to be the sole object of your desire. “…just wanna make you feel good. Wanna do anything to make you feel good..” He knew you were a tough woman to tame but he’d do just about anything to feel the warmth of that pussy again..tightening around him and milking his cock for all he had. But for now…you had a much better idea.

“You mean that, babyboy? You’ll do anything for me, whatever I want, right?” Tipping his head downward with your fingers cupping his chin and your thumb sliding into his mouth, you’d let him suck on it..cooing to your adorable little toy, to which he’d nod in response. He was so sweet and obedient. So much so that when you shoved him off of you with a gentle push and told him to strip down, he made haste in doing so. You needed to see all of him..from those ripped abs, chiseled muscles and of course..throbbing cock. Watching him rid himself of those clothes slowly was quite the sight and you were certainly getting an eyeful. You couldn’t help but to let those fingertips dance between your sheathed folds and gently massage that bud. Especially when he rendered himself entirely nude and that pre-cum spurted from the tip; fully erect and standing at attention. Almost as if he could barely contain himself. “P-please..(y/n). Please let me take you right here, angel. You just look so fucking good right now…I can’t handle it..” akin to a puppy in heat, Choso practically frothed at the mouth, for his chance to be one with you. Unfortunately for him, seeing him squirm and hearing those sweet little cries were far more entertaining! “You poor thing, you’re so hard..you look like you’re about to burst..” which wasn’t wrong in the slightest..considering that he could hear the sound of your wetness being thrashed around by your fingertips. It was his weakness among many other things. So you had the perfect solution.. “..don’t worry, baby..I’ll handle it..” now, normally, it wasn’t something he’d be content with. He was a very firm believer in letting his lady get her nut first. Always a selfless lover but this was something that would satisfy you both. Waving him over with that finger, you’d order him to sit between your thighs..legs sprawled out as you maneuvered to the headboard and spread your own. You were going to do something that he never had and that was to pleasure him. Make him see stars, moan and beg as he had for you many times prior. Seated comfortably in the middle of your plump thighs, Choso soon found himself encompassed by your legs coiling his waist. Your plan? To jerk him off and stroke those nipples. It was apparent just how sensitive he was when you ever so gently grazed his chest and he jumped. “B-but I—“..but nothing. You’re always taking such good care of me..just relax.” Softening him with a gentle peck to his cheek and his temple. Feeling the soft touch of your lips against his skin caused an already trembling Choso to shudder once more. Your hands made home on his chest, gently circulating and caressing his upper body. With your frame fully folded around him, he could go nowhere..completely within your clutch and forced to let you take all of his stress away. “You’re so good to me, Cho..I just wanna return the favor…” cooing in a sweet, whiny tone as you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, leaving kitten licks and kisses. Meanwhile, you’d pinch his very erect nipples between your fingertips, softly squeezing them before tracing tiny circles around them. “Can I do that? Pleaseee?” Truthfully, you didn’t have to ask him for a damn thing. Whatever you wanted, it was yours! Huffing in sharp breaths, Choso attempted to answer you but could barely even get his words out. You had him completely stuck; stimulating many of his pressure points at once. Instead, you’d watch as Cho’s dick twitched and fluttered on its lonesome without so much as a single touch. “Ah!—ha..yes, please..” begging whilst he sucked his teeth and bit down on his lip. He’d do just about anything right now to keep this sensation going. And you’d do anything to keep those pitiful moans flowing from his mouth. Especially when his cock head kept ejaculating prematurely. It was apparent that those nipples were his weak spot. You’d continue pinching them whilst nibbling at his ear. Eventually, your palms passed his chest and resided on his abs..getting lower and lower until…

“Please what? Tell me, babyboy..talk to me. Tell me what you want.” Enticing him more as the seconds and minutes passed. Lowering those fingertips to his tip, teasing it ever so gently with your thumb pad to evoke the response you were searching for. His desperation grew larger and soon, he could no longer maintain that control. Caving and craving to be handled. Releasing heavy huffs, Choso released a whiny cry before answering..

“P—please..mommy. Make me come.”

all the words and permission you needed to enact on his request and your perverse desires. The name evoking a smile across your face as well. He was so sensitive, you felt as if he may combust if you touched him too hard. So you’d settle for gentle strokes..wrapping the remainder of your fingers around it and sliding them up and down his shaft. Going slowly and taking all the time you needed to please him. Choso was such a vocal man. Not afraid nor shy about how good you made him feel. Even at the expense of sounding completely submissive. For you though, he was. He’d allow you to do whatever you wanted..as far as he was concerned, you held complete dominion over his mind and body. He was yours to mold, to shape and honestly, bitch up. His balls swollen to the brim, just waiting to be milked. But you’d continue those gentle pumps, even prompting him to spit in your hand for further lube. Meanwhile, (y/n) was still rubbing those hard nipples and flicking your tongue around his jugular. “Mmm..look at you. Doing so good..feels nice being on the receiving end, doesn’t it?” “Y-yesss. So fucking good.” Needless to say, he was in heaven right now! Floating on an endless cloud of bliss with a wide smile on his face. Kissing his temple and giggling, you’d keep going. Eliciting those long, drawn out moans and muffled cries. Looking down to his toes curling up in the sheets as you so casually let him fuck your enclosed fist. Sporadically bucking those hips up each time you brought your hand down on it. Those eight and a half inches growing thicker. This teasing was going to truly be the death of him. “Oh God…m’ gonna come. Please baby.. ‘need to nut.” Resorting to groveling for his climax at this point. But he’d do anything to have that gooey cum dripping down your knuckles. He couldn’t even feint it this time..you owned him right now! Just to establish more dominion, you’d take those fingers that were once stroking his nipples and shove them between his lips, coaxing out a trail of saliva that helped lube him up even more; watching him drool with that fucked out expression on his face was getting you so turned on. “Yesss, baby. Spit for me..spit on that dick. You’re doing so good..” singing his praises whilst pumping him dry. He was unraveling so much, it’d become harder to restrain him. “G-ahhh! (Y/N)…pleaseeee. Let me—“ before the words could leave his lips, that semen spurting out, even without your permission..whether you allowed it or not. Crying out as he came and you’d have to pepper his cheek with kisses to calm him down. “That’s it, sweetheart…let it out.” Cupping his chin into your palm and smashing your lips together with a haze of sloppy pecks. Tongue thrashing around in each other’s mouth and even exchanging more of that spit. Even though he was disheveled and shaking, the two of you couldn’t help but to laugh at the aftermath. “Fuck..” “..you okay?” Nodding and muttering in response.

honestly, he was feeling better than he had in days. Being milked by his fine ass girl and getting doted on all in one? Yeah, he couldn’t ask for more! But he’d be a little gluttonous and beg for you to take things up a notch. He wanted to keep feeling that euphoric sensation..to have you take him to another height before things concluded. To which you had the perfect plan. “Lay back, baby. I’m not done.” Ordering and commanding him around with so much cadence. Choso was the type that loved his women in charge so he didn’t mind allowing you to have control over him. Doing exactly as you instructed..falling against the fluffy pillows and mattress, crawling atop his frame shortly after. “Oh my gosh..please sit on this dick. Fuck..” gliding down and mounting his cock; easily accessible through the open crotch area of your panties. You’d grasp the base and guide him in but he was shocked to see that your back was turned to him and you were planning to ride him in reverse. “Mmm..you’re so fucking big. Stretching this fucking pussy..” moaning as you began to move and take the first couple of inches into your tightness. It had been a while since you’d felt him so he had to get you accustomed back to his shape. That swollen tip pressing through your fleshy insides and penetrating those walls. After a couple of bounces, you could feel Cho’s black painted fingernails digging into the thick of your hips. His eyes glued to your rippling backside; watching that ass move until you began to bog down and they’d roll to the back of his skull. Eventually, you’d find yourself establishing a rhythm and fucking him silly. Standing atop your tiptoes and going in slow circles. “F-fuck! You feel so good, (y/n)! Goddamnit..” causing him to shout as he kept that grip on your body. In this view, he couldn’t help but to become mesmerized and fall deeper in love with that body..showering you with praise in the process. “You’re so fucking pretty, (y/n). You take this dick so good..you’re the only one who can fuck me like this..don’t stop, please..” with those drawn out, sexy moans fueling you, you couldn’t help but to give him exactly what he wanted. “I know, baby. I know…look how you got me creaming on it. This pussy always gets so wet for you..” soon, that room filled with whiny cries, whimpers and yelling among smacking skin. After a while, he could no longer withstand sitting idle and you could only maintain your position for a little bit so those hands clutched your hips and cellulite a bit tighter before he decided to take the reins. “Hold still..fuck. Please..” thrusting up into you shortly thereafter; letting that cock slam your sensitive spot. Those sloppy, nasty thrusts driving him crazy. “Yes! Right there, right there..” “Choooo! I’m coming—“ It wasn’t long before he was prompting you to squirt. Which sent you rocketing up off of him. That sticky sweetness, showering his tattooed thighs. But the two of you weren’t quite finished..not until he burst his second and concurrent nut..this time, needing to fill you with it. Those legs began trembling but it wasn’t long before he folded them up into a reverse mating press and stuffed that hole full of his cum after a few more thrusts. And he didn’t do so without breaking himself. Throbbing inside of you as he drained those balls inside of your womb. It was a euphoric feeling that could never grow old!

“I—I! I came so fucking hard..damn..” laughing to himself at the aftermath of the mess you two created. Feeling spent and completely satisfied, you’d fall into one another’s arms along with a barrage of sweet kisses. A smile, for the first time in a while, had broken through on Choso’s face, which you figured would be a little more permanent now after that. He’d caress your shaking body and he’d do the same. “Do me a favor? Don’t ever stay away from me that long.” Bopping his nose with your index finger, which made him chuckle; grasping the back of your neck before placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Don’t worry, I won’t make that dumb mistake twice. Can’t have anyone else loving on my girl. Not when I do it the best.”

and every time, he’d prove why you’d always keep coming back for more.

#commissions corner #fic commissions #commission request #choso x black!reader #choso x reader #choso smut #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso kamo #choso headcanons #choso fanfic #choso hcs #choso <3 #jjk x black reader #jjk x plus size reader #jjk x reader #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #choso jujutsu kaisen #jjk choso #choso #jjk au #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen au #jujutsu choso #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #black fem reader #plus size black reader #black reader smut #chubby black reader

[animehideout]

omg i adore your mbti series it’s so much fun, i was just wondering if i could request enfp?

Your MBTI, Your Relationship With JJK Characters Part 5

ENFP + ESFJ

Thank you Anon, @strawberrybuni , @shathanku and @chososwhoresblog for requesting ENFP. Also thank you @suchasecretiveninja for being interested in this MBTI series I really really hope you like these and that you are satisfied with the characters 🫶🏻✨💌

Currently working on the other MBTIs and oneshots requests, sorry if I'm taking too long <33

Divider credit: @cafekitsune your work is amazing *Chef kiss* 💖

ENFP:

Yuji Itadori = First and only love.

Full of enthusiasm both of you. Instantly drawn to each other like a magnet, since you share many personality traits. Your adventurous and curious nature has brought you two together. Finding joy in each other's company while embracing new experiences and challenges, both within your relationship and beyond. You're your own number 1 cheerleader. You want to start a new career? learn a new language? Yuji will be right there beside you, offering support till you reach your dreams. As an ENFP, you tend to feel jealous and anxious over the smallest things but with Yuji all your worries fade away. Hr constantly reassures you and express his love to you. Plus, he is incredibly loyal and sees you as his whole world. ENFPs get bored easily and crave constant amusement, luckily with Yuji's playful and humorous nature you won't be feeling any boredom. He effortlessly brings joy into every moment, making it his daily routine to crack jokes and find humor in any situation because he loves to see you happy and loves listening to your laugh. ENFPs are quite affectionate and needy, fortunately, you've got Yuji as your boyfriend, because he's so good at combining all love languages to satisfy your needs and make you feel loved. You have a childish and dramatic side that only Yuji can handle. At the same time you are very mature, so Yuji loves how you can be both depending in the situation. As an ENFP you naturally bring the best out if Yuji, so he works hard ti become stronger for you. Both of you are rays of sunshine and at the same time sunshine protectors. You would be 100% safe around him, and no one is allowed to hurt you.

Gojo Satoru = Frenemies.

ENFP and Gojo are friends but with tension. Gojo is an ENTP, he relies on the power of mind and analytical mindset, while ENFP tends to be more compassionate and emotionally driven. Gojo might tease you a lot and starts debating with you out of the blue. He would try to force his ideas claiming that they are more accurate and effective than yours because your ideas are idealistic but not logical. This clash of approaches may cause tension between you two. Also while making decisions, Gojo might try to assert dominance and make his own personal decisions work, overshadowing yours. And as an ENFP, you hate reinforced rules, opinions etc.. that may restrict you or prohibit you from using your intuition. Gojo tends to be very critical of people around him, and criticism stresses ENFPs out. He sometimes does that on purpose to annoy you since your type gets easily angry. Despite this tension, you managed to become friends. Both of you are chaotic, and your relationship is dynamic and full of energy. You and Satoru have have mutual traits like your shared passion for exploring possibilities, understanding theories even though each one of you have completely opposite perspectives. But your love for knowledge brought you together. Also both ENFP and Gojo are very affectionate and like skinship and closeness. So playfights and playful skinship is a common occurence between you two. He turns off his infinity on purpose so you can playfully slap his arm or throw a pillow his way. You'd be enjoying time together, laughing and being the loud extroverts you are and then in a split if a second, you start bickering leaving everyone around you confused. You perfectly portray a love hate relationship.

Yuta Okkotsu = Colleague.

I feel like despite ENFPs being an extrovert, they still can blend and get along better with introverts. ENFPs take emotions into consideration and with Yuta being a shy person, I think he'd work comfortably with you without being paranoid about being judged or misunderstood. ENFP type has an outgoing and expressive nature, Yuta is quiet and calm, so this would create a balance. You might also help him get out of his comfort zone without making him feel pressured or awkward, you'd create a supportive environment, free of judgment. While his thoughtful approach inspires you to reflect more deeply on certain matters. ENFPs are known for their empathy, so you'd respect Yuta's need for solitude and quiet moment while at the same time he tries to be more socially engaged for you. Yuta appreciates your understanding and considerate nature, even Rika gets along with you for treating Yuta right.

Miwa Kasumi = Bestfriend.

The friendship between you and Miwa is warm and filled with positive energy. The two of you value empathy and compassion. You are sweet and down to earth. Your nature made it easy for you to quickly bond with each other in no time, since both of you fostered a deep understanding and acceptance of one another. Your friendship is characterized by a strong emotional connection, where feelings and vulnerability are cherished, creating a safe space. You influence each other positively to channel and promote your kindness to the people around you. You also support each other through thick and thin. You have a healthy bond with less to no conflicts at all.

ESFJ:

Nanami Kento = Husband.

Despite you being an extrovert and Nanami an introvert, you unexpectedly made a good couple. Nanami's type is a responsible, trusting and organized partner, and ESFJ meet his preferences. Nanami is a wise man, so he would bring balance into you relationship. ESFJs are known for their warmth and sweet nature sibthisywould serve as a factor to help Nanami loosen up a bit and lower his guards in your presence so he can feel your comfort, express his feelings more freely and learn how to reassure you regularly since as an ESFJ you're sometimes needy and clingy, also he would learn how to help you when you struggle with self doubt and low self esteem. The F in ESFJ stands for feeling, so you depend more on emotional approach while Nanami more on analytical approach, so together you can strike communicational balance. As an ESFJ, you managed to break through Nanami's tough exterior, revealing his soft side, that he started ti show only in front of you. The two of you have shared values in terms of love, you and Nanami are loyal and committed to a long lasting relationship that eventually was crowned with marriage. Marriage strengthened your bond even more, making you deeply understand and align with one another. Also accept your difference and bring the best out of every challenging situation; always trying to create a positive outcome of arguments and turn mistakes into lessons that you'd learn from. Your relationship is well rounded and harmonious, you appreciate each other's strengths and peacefully live with the differences.

Ino Takuma = Interested in you.

You two have a dynamic and engaging relationship with a wholesome chemistry that led Ino to develop feelings for you. Both of you are extroverts with golden retriever vibes, you enjoy social interaction which made it easy for Ino to get to know you in a personal level, since ESFJ tend to share things about them with others, and to his luck you lived up to his expectations. He relies on feelings as well so he would feel the emotional connection with you making him willing to satisfy your needs. ESFJ is kinda similar to Ino's MBTI which is ESFP which results in a mutual interests. Both of you can relate to each other in certain situations, discovering a huge compatibility. Ino would be the one to fall hard for you. ESFJ has got a charming side that no one can neglect. ESFJ tends to be talkative as well and Ino enjoys listening to you rambling about random things. Ino's MBTI tends to jump to conclusions, so he might misunderstand your generous and empathetic side and think that you reciprocate his feelings. Overall, if you don't end up dating you would be good friends but if he chooses to go to ghost you in order to move on you would find it difficulty since ESFJs find it hard to move on from a breakup even if it's just a casual friendship.

Mahito = Ex-partner.

ESFJs trust people easily, with Mahito being manipulative he would find it easy to feed you with his lies and convince you that he is a good partner to make you fall for him and get you wrapped around his finger. But as every other lie, it gets revealed. Your values differ from Mahito's. ESFJs prioritize and take care of their loved ones and also value stability and loyalty, but Mahito prioritizes his goals and ambitions and isn't faithful. He is known for using people for his own needs and interests and that would be the case with you, you'd be one of his victims, which leads to you breaking up. You simply have a desire for structure and routine to ensure the stability for your relationship but Mahito feels restricted and can't serve as a good partner who would at least try. He's all talk but no action which is contrary to ESFJs.

Remember this piece of writing is for entertainment purposes only, also it is imo so it's not necessarily accurate 🫶🏻🥹

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen masterlist #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #mbti types #mbti #mbti memes #jjk men #jjk headcanons #jjk fluff #jjk smut #gojo headcanons #nanami headcanons #ino takuma #yuji headcanons #yuji x reader #gojo x reader #nanami x reader #yuta okkotsu #yuta okkotsu x reader #mahito x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji x reader #gojo satoru headcanons #gojo satoru smut #jjk nanami #jjk choso #choso headcanons

[enby-ralsei]

Arthur Timeline Analysis

This is a big analysis of the events in Arthur's life, based on what we know as far as episode 9.

If you just want the timeline here it is. However, I go through my methodology below the cut, so stick around for that if you would like!

Year campaign takes place: 2023

Year of birth: 1887

Year of Embrace: 1912

Year of immigration: 1918

Arthur's current age: 136

Arthur's visual age: 25

Quick warning for suicide a bit further down.

Facts we know:

Arthur is a little younger than 140

He left England in 1918, specifically right after World War 1 ended

He had younger twin siblings (that were smaller than adult size, yes this is important)

So, with this information I made a few assumptions. We are placing the timeline such that it is 2023 (year of recording) when this campaign is taking place. There are jokes in the episode about it taking place in 2012, but that makes the ages not line up well, especially with World War 1.

Another assumption: We are taking Arthur's true age to be 136. It is the lowest estimate for "a little younger than 140" I am comfortable with making.

And thus begins the timeline shenanigans.

Arthur was born in 1887, which makes him 136 in 2023.

His siblings would have to be under the age of about 11 to be smaller than their full grown, adult sizes. If Arthur were to be turned in 1918, he would have been 31. 20+ years difference is much quite a large gap between siblings, so he must have turned before 1918.

However, it was said that he left soon after being turned. But what is important to mention is that Arthur is within the age range to enlist in the British Army.

This seems out of character, but it really wouldn't be. He would have very recently killed his whole family. He wants to die. Being killed in a war is seen much more favorably than trying to kill himself. He already knows that trying to burn himself in the sun will just lead to Frenzy that will eventually get him out of harm's way.

So he joined the British military in 1914. He could have been turned right before enlisting and be 27 at the time of his Embrace, but that also seems unlikely.

Arthur wouldn't want to leave the country without checking for Anya everywhere he can. So he looked for her in all of England, while avoiding London as much as he possibly could. After the graves were dug, he didn't return until over a century later.

I say that two years is enough time to look for her in England, meaning the year he was turned was 1912. He would be 25.

This makes sense for his siblings ages as well. They could be 11 years old and only have a 14 year age gap. This is still somewhat large, but much more reasonable than 20. I know many people with this large of an age gap between siblings. A friend of mine has an age gap of 15 years and my mom has one of 16 (both with no siblings being born in between).

At 25, Arthur could still reasonably be living at home. He could be learning the Vampire Hunting trade from his father as an apprentice. His siblings would be young enough to have a small grave.

RECAP:

Arthur is currently 136. He was turned into a vampire before WW1 in 1912 and searched Great Britain for Anya for 2 years before volunteering for the British army, where he stayed for 4 years. Once the war ended in 1918, he left for the United States as soon as he could.

#jrwi spoilers #jrwi #the suckening #suckening spoilers #arthur bennett #jrwi analysis #pinned

[arxxq]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐌𝐘 𝐄𝐘𝐄 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔...

╰┈➤ ❝ [Happy birthday my love!] ❞

—What they would do on your birthday

It's my birthday today and I was too scared to request in an author's ask box for one so I just made one myself hehe...

Characters Mentioned: Mikage Reo, Itoshi sae and rin (seperately), Meguru Bachira, Isagi Yoichi, Nagi Seishiro.

Headcanons :))

Mikage Reo—

He'd take you out somewhere

It doesn't have to be somewhere fancy or crowded

All he care about is to spoil you on your birthday so you feel special

After all it is your special day! It's the day of your birth

He'd buy you anything you're eyeing on or anything you want

Even if you don't want it he'd still buy them for you

Once you guys do get home, he'd spoil you with his affection

Cuddles, kisses you name it he'll give it you<3

He'd also be one to repeat "happy birthday" just incase he didn't say it earlier

Itoshi Sae—

He's also one to take you out somewhere

Probably the one who like to take you out to eat

Buys you the perfect cake, if not he won't hesitate to sue the baker

When he does go out with you on your birthday..he hates it when you guys get interviewed

But one thing he likes is that at least the world knows you're his and his alone

Probably would but you jewelry without you're permission (◍•ᴗ•◍)

When alone, he'd like to embrace you

Because he wants you to know even without words he loves you and would do anything for you

He doesn't need words to tell you "happy birthday" because to him action speaks more than words

Itoshi Rin—

Unlike his brother he'd rather spend your birthday at home

He'd probably want to keep it a surprise so he called his teammates for help

And the person who helped him was none other then, Isagi and Bachira

Yeah he didn't really like asking help but he didn't know what to do

So for the whole noon, Isagi and Bachira distracted you

Meanwhile rin was currently searching the perfect cake for you

Not only a cake but a present you will enjoy

When you get home, you were greeted by him holding the cake with lit up candles

It was very thoughtful of him and you appreciated his hardwork

Rin didn't really know what to do but he knew you didn't care

Because the last present he had for you was his affection :)

Meguru Bachira—

Bachira is definitely and outgoing person

So when your birthday came he was overjoyed

He had been waiting for this moment

Well he and his mom most likely

So during your birthday bachira brought you out

While his mom was decorating the house and baking a cake

Bachira was merely a distraction to the surprise

He'd probably roam with you in the mall or in an amusement park

And when you guys went home you were given the best surprise

Bachira peppered you with so many affection

And once the surprise cane to and end he wanted you to stay over

To bachira birthdays are important, but yours would probably be on the top

Isagi Yoichi—

Isagi Yoichi, your loving boyfriend had waited for months

And finally it had arrived!

Let's just say he had it planned

Although he prefered staying home with you, he didn't want to ruin your birthday

He had set up everything, even invited his friends for it

So while you and Isagi went out

His friends were decorating and getting prepared for the surprise party he had for you

When you went out, Isagi did his best

He brought you to a cafe at breakfast

And bought you to places you wanted to go

And when you went home, you were surprised to see all his friends there

And when the party ended, he finally felt at ease

So he insisted for you to stay home with him..just so he could pamper you

Your birthday was so important for him that he had planned your next one early

He loved you and he would do anything for you

Nagi Seishiro—

This boy doesn't like going out

No he does not, unless it's to an arcade

He doesn't like getting up early

So during that morning, all you and him did was just stay in bed and cuddle

Nagi is too lazy to go out, so lucky for him his right hand man (reo) was there to help

You and him spent the whole day and home

Playing games, cuddling and watching movies

So when it was evening, let's just say you heard a doorbell and to your surprise nagi had immediately went to the door

And when you went to check on him, you saw him carefully carrying a cake with candles that were already lit

And on his other hand he had a present for you

But unfortunately he got caught, you appreciated his effort to hide it from you

And yes you knew immediately who had brought those stuff for him

So for the whole day, your birthday was spent in the comfort of your shared house/appartment

Nagi loves you but he's just to lazy to put in so much effort

Finally, I had to write this alright I couldn't hold the urge

Reblogs are highly appreciated

Do not repost as your own or claim it as you own

#·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳aryssa;hasinah #blue lock #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #itoshi sae #itoshi rin #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi sae x reader #mikage reo #mikage reo x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi yoichi #meguru bachira x reader #nagi seishiro #nagi seishiro x reader

[throwaway-yandere]

"O Capo! My Capo!" (Yandere Mafia!Cyno, Tignari, and Alhaitham/Reader)

A/n: This township is turning into a real clownship– I definitely do NOT dedicate this to my irl friends, ya jerks /j.

Unreliable Synopsis: The Innamorati Familia might have lost almost everything, but their Capo stands tall. Just how long will you survive under 3 pairs of scrutinizing eyes? (Mafia!au. Visions do not exist.)

CW: yandere, (some) religious themes, possible major character deaths, mentions of recreational drugs, guns, etc.

YOUR CHOICES MATTER. YOU CAN VOTE FOR WHAT HAPPENS NEXT.

Next Chapter

—---

[Year 192X]

"(Y/n)!!!"

At first, you were convinced you were living the Khaenri'ahn Dream. With your youthful yet crime-greased hands, you have fought hard to earn your keep as the Innamorati's current Capo– to earn yourself a family for yours to protect inside Teyvat's ruthless underworld. And family you did keep. Until candles waned like silenced hostages. Until a conspiracy pursued what little faith in humanity you had left.

Until you held your underboss' charred face and lifeless body. Until his sizzling arm burned your hand. Until flakes of Dimitri's skin powdered your fingers like charcoal pencil shavings.

The Innamorati Headquarters burned. And so too did most of your men.

"(Y/n)! Stand back– Think about your men! Would they want you to do this?! You won't save anyone there– not like this!!!"

Looking back, the Khaenri'ahn Dream lied. There was no joy in hustling but you did live an empty yet freeing life. Khaenri'ah preached about humanity and its opportune happiness, yet spoke none about how fleeting it could be once the curtains caught fire. Perhaps that very notion fooled you into believing that your idyllic lifestyle won't be snatched away easily. 

The ghosts of those who perished in the manor's basement have sought their final repose on the embers that incinerated your endeavors.

Everything was terribly loud. Many people fled into the murky haze. The square was virtually deserted as people fled for their lives, but you refused to leave. This trait used to be a quality that helped you survive the syndicate, but those damn fascist conspirators turned it against you.

Tartaglia pulled you close.

"VAFFANCULO, TARTAGLIA– LET ME FUCKING GO!"

"NOT UNTIL YOU CALM THE FUCK DOWN!!!"

You stilled, and a single heavy tear left your eye. 

This is more than a mite unfair. Everything you labored for, every drop of blood you shed, every vice you committed, what was it all for? Visconti Diluc was right. You're a liar and a murderer undeserving of joy. Maybe this was the retribution he ranted aimlessly about.

You took fast and drastic measures in your rise to the top, and your opponents rightfully did the same to pull you back down.

Tartaglia watched as you writhe in agony knowing that you couldn't escape from his restrictive embrace. He never thought he'd see you appear more pathetic than when Pulcinella first picked you off the streets. Nonetheless, he felt your pain. You both led groups under the same parent organization. You are family. 

To him, this was worse than accompanying his widowed sibling to their spouse's funeral.

"… My men, they're…"

You fell into deep thought.

Lyudochka, Kazari, Teppei, Viktor… 

You gritted your teeth.

Viktor… 

That damn brat didn't even get his chance to shift jobs… That brat still hadn't left this hellhole…

Based on the Khaenri'ahn Dream, all citizens must have an equal opportunity to achieve success through determination and pure grit…

You bit your lip down, drawing blood. In truth, you can't discern whether or not the blood came from your lips or your throat.

"DAMN IT." 

Your white-knuckled hand shakily punched your thigh, feeling morbidly powerless.

Viktor said he wouldn't allow himself to die as a lowly servant… 

What happened to those dreams now…?

You were so close. You were so close to taking all those fascists down. So why now?!

Tartaglia frowned. He had never seen you act like this– your anger is usually impulsive, but sharp and silent. Your fury simmers until you slice the catalyst open. Never come a time you lashed out like a feral animal as you do now.

"GET IT TOGETHER!!!"

Tartaglia shot you a piercing stare as he slapped you, and you finally reigned yourself in.

This is too pitiful. 

Fire surrounded everyone, but you remained frozen by your own dialed-up emotions.

Slowly, he trusted that he could let you go.

"... Ekaterina, send in our men. We'll try to extinguish this mess as much as we can."

"Of course Capo, right away."

You held back your sobs as your knees fell to the floor, where your right-hand man's corpse lay as if he did not struggle in his miserable death.

The last time you talked to him, you called him a worthless coward who couldn't make choices without you. Pain seared through your chest. No one wants that to be their last conversation with their closest confidant. 

A bloodcurdling scream rang out across the square, but you scarcely moved from your seat. You're too numb to notice who was behind that familiar voice. It was just another body that couldn't be mourned.

Your eyes focused on Dimitri's corpse instead.

You were planning to apologize after you cleared your head this morning, but what use are words to those who have already left this world? He's gone.

Fallen, cold and dead.

This is by no means the first time you've seen your men die– you had some of the deceased's blood wet your Sunday clothes– but you hope this unforgettable foul scent of burned flesh will be the last time you'll breathe it in. You're already acclimated to the metallic stench of blood; you don't need to ingrain this into your mind as well.

You passed out.

It was only when you closed your mouth did you realize, it was you who cried your lungs out the whole time.

—-----

The church bells rang. 

It was 10 AM, and the mass was inching to a close but the priest passionately ignored the echoes of the bell and the mafiasos' groans.

"Is it too early to booze?" Tartaglia whispered in your ear. His yawning proved that he was bored to tears. You did your best in stopping your eyes from rolling.

Unlike Tartaglia, your aura exudes dignity, something he needed the most. When you two sit together, you both appear akin to a comedy act. The usually bloodthirsty Tartaglia transforms into a guileless little brother and your all-forgiving eyes turn endearingly annoyed when paired together. The same scenario was applied this morning.

"Tartaglia, look around you. Does this look like the right time?" You vaguely gestured at the ongoing sermon, not meeting his gaze.

"Geez. Why do we even bother with this?"

"Because even though we are nothing but lowly sinners, we must honor our Tsaritsa's benevolence."

There are 6 Archons revered by the church, and they correspond to six different regions and cities inside the nation of Teyvat. You're an immigrant from outside the country– an agnostic nation– but you're smart enough to pay respects.

"Right, right. I guess even if I asked that ten more times you'd still reply with a generic answer."

You passive-aggressively whispered back. "Maybe if your questions were worth my time I'd elaborate on my answers as well."

"Capo–"

You and Tartaglia turned around. The Fatui mob, one of yours who just got there, nervously sat up straight.

"Capo (Y/n)."

Tartaglia sank back to the pews, no longer caring. The second capo's lack of attention eased the grunt's audience-based apprehension. Their sheer trust in your credibility made you smirk. While you seemed cold, everyone in Snezhnaya knew you weren't.

You recalled how back then these words sounded alien to you but these terms are salient in the scenes. Having recruited predominantly Snezhnayan workers, you had to get used to their way of living. You wanted to foster good interpersonal relationships with your men, and there's no better approach to reach their hearts than religion in the 1920s. And by the looks of it, they seem to trust your carefully crafted sterling reputation.

You always do your job as if you're running out of time, and they put your faith in you like a farmer would a fleeting summer. With some effort, everyone was convinced they'd fall apart without your guidance.

The grunt looked at you with respect.

"Boss Dimitri delivered one very confidential info."

"I see…" You steadied yourself. "Excuse me then, Tar–"

He snatched your sleeve. Tartaglia considered removing your iconic stovepipe hat, but you don't wear it to church. He opted for the second most annoying choice.

"Hey, you can't leave me here. Don't I have every right to be in the know? Gaaahh, cut me some slack. We've practically been siblings for more than half a decade now, (Y/n). Can't you tell your fratello anything?"

"Why are you interested?"

"Cause I'm curious if it's finally time that your familia will collaborate with other factions for once."

You shook your head and sat back down. He's right.

Three major criminal organizations control the small nation of Teyvat, namely the Fatui, Akademiya, and the Adepti. You and Tartaglia are Capos or Harbingers of the former, which had the most control of Snezhnaya. 

Based on your history, you don't mingle with other organizations outside Snezhnaya a lot. You had dealings with Ningguang and the Qixing before, but never their parent organization overseas which resides in Liyue. 

It just so happens that Tartaglia is bolder than you are. The kid has his headquarters stationed in another province, Liyue. That province isn't far from his hometown since Teyvat is a small country but he complains like a confederate soldier. Most of what Tartaglia talks your ear out is about missing home despite finding fuses of excitement in Liyue enticing anyways. You've heard many stories from him regarding how ruthless Adepti's Prime leader, Morax, is, but that's not your problem. 

The Akademiya, however, keeps to themselves. You know close to nothing about them. Snezhnaya may be the heart of trades, but the Fatui cannot tap into Sumeru's supply of canned knowledge. And you quite frankly don't give a shit about what they do. They're not the best at masking their spies.

"Speak."

"Capo, the underboss wanted to inform you that he had already figured out who the mole is."

"Oh?" You and Tartaglia spoke simultaneously.

You'd been looking for a spy among your ranks for quite some time. This mysterious mole was sending information back to Focalor, the self-proclaimed Hydro Archon better known as "Il Duce" around these parts. The braggart with a God complex promised the public that she'll drive mafiosos out of Teyvat, and she's working everyone to the bone for it. Politicians either play yes men or get on your nerves. She's the latter.

Nevertheless, you did not expect Dimitri to deliver results that fast. Bitterly, you thought about how apologizing for him later would look less genuine now that he proved himself worthy. You didn't mean to call your underboss useless– you just couldn't control your temper.

May the Archons forgive your transgressions.

You hope he'd forgive you once you get back.

"... Carry on, Felix."

"Yes, of course. The fascist conspirator is Professor Tighnari, the informant."

You snapped your head back to meet the grunt's face, bewildered.

"... What?"

"FIRE!!! THE PLAZA IS ON FIRE!!!"

One of the church's orphans– Barbara– was screaming by the door, frantically stripped of breath and her chords sounded hoarse, unlike her singing. Her weak legs barely counted as a support for her body as she toppled on the marble tiles. The groceries she carried splashed down, and some fruits rolled in your direction. Your people helped her stand up while some picked up her things for her, but the poor thing shivered like a leaf.

Barbara had always been a sister to you. Having been separated from your family at a young age as well, you two link like two peas in a pod. She relied on you like a quiet strong big sister while you protected her and the other children from street conflicts.

You stood up and calmly patted her shoulder, squeezing lightly. You gave her a gentle smile.

"My dear Barbara– take deep breaths."

She yanked your chest.

"Capo!" 

Barbara began to tear up.

"It's your mansion, Capo!!! YOUR MANSION IS ON FIRE!!!"

—-------

You jolted up drenched in cold sweat.

"You're awake…"

You don't know whose voice you were expecting, but that voice was intuitively not one of them. The barren room you woke up in wasn't yours, and it's certainly not Tartaglia's manor. Considering the unfortunate events that just took place, it's foolish to think you'd wake up inside the safety of your manor. Instinctively, you reached for your holster and found it empty. 

The man stepped into the light. You have a hunch on who this was. He wore a black-purple stole, vest, and strap combination, an attire you'd often see on a Sunday, yet donned a shabby brown hat on top of his silky white locks. 

The stranger stared at you blankly. 

"You're a disciple." You claimed.

Aside from the three mafia organizations, the Church had the superior upper hand when it came to crowd control. Nothing moves Teyvat's heart like guides and philosophies. That being said, the Church isn't afraid to get its hands filthy. They are fully aware that conversation will not solve all problems, and there is an unsaid fact that their relationship with the Fatui is far from antagonistic.

And as Capo, you're one of their most devoted patrons. The organization you belong to is filled with devotees, and have often carried out whatever mission the church wishes. Honestly, you think that the Church's fondness for the Fatui should already be a telltale sign that the Archons are nothing more than a statue made of ice.

But you shouldn't think this way. It's peculiar– romantic, even– that what saved you from the fire was your near half-hearted devotion to attending Sunday masses. To be honest, you attend partly because you want to dress to the nines. You don't know how to feel about that.

Their Holiness saved you from the embers, you can atone for your sins by suffering. And that's what this stranger is here for.

"That's correct." He said. "I work for the Sumeru Church. I was instructed to look after you until they help you renovate your manor and the panetteria beside it. That is, of course, assuming you still pass the requirements of being Innamorati's Capo."

This person did not bother easing you into things, and instead bluntly reminded you that your house and men– your home is gone. 

You breathed in shakily.

Dimitri is gone…

"...You have my gratitude."

On the bright side, at least your go-to place for lunch will be back after a while. That is if Signorina Xiangling survived and the church won't abandon you.

"Don't worry, we flame to please. I'm sure our architect Kaveh was stoked to receive such a large-scale commission."

…

"I'm sorry– were you joking at a time like this?"

"Was it not funny? Hah. I think it's hysterical. Oh, would you like for me to explain it?" He didn't ask in a patronizing tone, he spoke as if you didn't have the mental capacity to know what a joke is. Which was honestly more insulting.

You didn't laugh, and he didn't apologize.

You've heard about how church officials have a clear lack in the humor department before, but you didn't take into account that they may very well be this socially inept. Which is rich, coming from you. Your transgressions weigh more than a bad joke executed at a funeral.

With a mastered poker face, you pretended that his slights did not affect you.

He extended his arm out for a handshake.

"Cyno, the former Aaru Village priest. I now work as an inquisitor." Cyno coughed, cheeks turning slightly red. "I didn't change your clothes i-in case you find it uncomfortable."

Sounds like he finds it uncomfortable instead.

His behavior perfectly lines up with his claims. The way he dressed alone encapsulates the aura of a man who used to devote himself to holy sanctums. Some minor details made it clear he's no longer part of the main clergy– that being his choker and numerous ear piercings. 

You took his hand. "Pleasure to meet you. I'm (Y/n), the Innamorati Familia's Cap–"

You cringed.

"I'm… I'm just (Y/n)."

"Humble, just (Y/n)." Cyno nodded solemnly.

"No, not humble. Defeated."

"I know."

…

…

"Feel free to cry. I won't pass judgment over people expressing normal human emotions."

You laughed humorlessly. "Sure you won't."

Cyno grabbed the plate on the table and passed it on. "Calzone?"

You scoffed.

Admittedly, the food looked appetizing and its rich fragrance made your stomach perceive its emptiness. You trust the church, but no. Your pride would kill you for chewing food down with abandon. The only person you could eat savagely with was Barbara, and Lord knows how the poor girl is holding up. Thankfully your stomach didn't make any noise despite the pain of hunger being a treacherous one.

"I guess not." He awkwardly put it back down.

You inspected your clothes. Your once proud Prussian blue polo shirt reeked of ashes and sundered threads. Still, in a bit of a daze, you squinted.

"... Where's my coat?"

Cyno's gaze sharpened. 

"I disposed of it." He spat. "You should be more alert. Someone planted a recording device on your person."

Cyno spoke in a tone that implied he knew who this person was personally, and you're inclined to think the same. You bit your bottom lip at your own seemingly minuscule mistake, opening a minor wound.

"Cazzo."

It's possible that Tighnari was the one to plant it. You let him hold your coat for a moment when you changed into your Sunday attire. That audacity of that fucking bastard.

He must've set the bomb off when he heard Nicola.

"Testa di cazzo– quel fottuto figlio di puttana." You cursed lowly.

Professor Tighnari. That man will soon find his skin flayed and draped on the walls of your basement chambers once it's rebuilt.

You'll kill everyone that fox ever loved.

You'll find his family and wave their heads on a pike right in front of his chained weeping face. You'll claw the skin off their faces and rip their fingernails and limbs apart–

"(Y/n)?"

You can no longer comprehend your emotions. Inside, you are a cacophony of both forced indifference and uncontrollable spite– a contradictory pair yet one that matches how you felt towards the loss of your men and the professor's betrayal. 

Slowly but surely, you saw red.

Not expecting that you would stand up, Cyno pushed you back to bed. He looked both worried yet unimpressed by your foul mouth.

"You're not supposed to leave yet."

You tried to gently pry him off, not wanting to offend the church's lackeys, but he was stronger than expected. Cyno planted you back down on the mattress. His left hand was beside your head and his face hovered above yours.

This irritated you. 

You don't have much time left.

He continued. "Tomorrow, you work. Today, you rest up. Your people are with Capo Tartaglia and they're not going anywhere. If you need anything– food, water– anything at all, be sure to ring the bell. My ears are sharp. Remember, the Military Police are tailing you and the last of your men."

The Military Police? So it's Focalor's people, huh? That damn governor just won't let up, won't she? If you had nothing left to lose you would've painted her office wall with her brain matter, pronto. But you still have some reasons to continue living.

The last of your men… 

Hah. Of course. You have to live for those that survived. After all, if you weren't an incompetent fucking boss you'd still have everyone in one piece.

You're so sick of this.

"May I ask who exactly reached out to help? I doubt the church would waste church funds on a low-ranked Fatui Capo such as myself."

The inquisitor averted his gaze, his brows furrowed. Cyno hid his face behind his hand, murmuring the response meekly. You don't have the best hearing—the sounds of gunshots were bound to dull your senses—and you imagined he gave a monosyllabic response.

"...e."

"My apologies, mind repeating that?"

Cyno stiffened.

"You don't need to know who. What matters is that you're safe now, and an official willingly went through signing paperwork for your manor."

"And based on your tone of voice, I assume that that official is you."

He turned his head indignantly.

"Believe what you want to believe."

Cyno's reply was a telltale sign that this conversation will go nowhere. You sighed.

"... I don't need food, but do you have cigars?"

He scrunched his nose. 

"No wonder your breath smells awful nowadays." He muttered before pulling away.

Despite his insulting observation, he pulled out a box of Cuban cigars from his pocket. Quite hypocritical that he complained about bad breath when he had some too. He lit up your cigar.

"Thanks, but last time I checked this was our first time meeting." You have no particular opinion on Cohiba's cigars but this is the best you'll get at the moment. Beggars can't be choosers. "Thanks again."

Cyno ignored you both times and he was already by the door. "Please rest up. I've left some calzone, water, painkillers, and tissues for you on the table. Try not to leave the vicinity."

He exited the room.

You closed your eyes as your hand reached for your bleeding mouth. You're relatively unscathed from the incident, which means Cyno knows something about your "condition." 

You chuckled.

Painkillers and tissues, huh? There's no better cure than that, and your time would run out before the world would find a better one.

—----

Cigars were not enough. 

Inquisitor Cyno likely already knew that he can't keep you here for much longer, but he didn't do anything when you escaped. He did say "try not to leave" and not "do not leave", didn't he?

Cyno claimed his ears are sharp– so you guess he just didn't care at all.

As a result, you left your room and went for a walk around the neighborhood. That doesn't mean you can leave Sumeru City, but a stroll is always pleasant. The room Cyno offered was neither spacious nor cramped, but if you started digging holes in their ugly wallpaper, you doubt the church would take it lightly.

You staggered out of the chapel and entered the slums, reminding yourself that Dimitri is dead. You need to find someone worthy enough to become the next underboss. The church will not recognize you as the Capo without one, therefore they won't help rebuild the manor should you fail this task.

Hungry and out of breath, you leaned against the unscrubbed walls of an abandoned antique store, arms folded, taking in your surroundings. You were exhausted, arms sprawled against the wall.

The people behaved too jaded to be Natlan yet too reserved to be Snezhnaya– hence, you safely assumed that you were in the Avidya-Rainforest district. This place, despite lack of funds, was still under the church's watchful eye. A holy sanctum of sorts. This meant dealings are prohibited and no one would want to be caught with a glint in their eyes.

It's fascinating how much their cultures differ for a country as small as Teyvat. The same cannot be said for Khaenri'ah. Your compatriots have only known a capitalistic grind in search of an unattainable dream. A money-obsessed country does little to preserve its customs and culture. And you were the same empty machine till La Signora took you in.

You yawned while covering your mouth, appearing vulnerable.

But of course, you didn't charge into an unknown location unarmed. You knocked out one of the Inquisitor's soldiers and seized his pistol. "For security reasons", you'd argue. Once again, Cyno likely knew about that but didn't bother acting, again. You're too tired to judge his work approach, and you could barely keep your eyes open.

Till you caught a sliver of green pass you by.

"Oh! You smell funny. Are you the Capo, (Y/n) (L/n)?"

You lazily looked up.

"Umm, hello?"

You gazed down. 

It's a kid. Hunger is starting to take its toll on you as you mistook her high pitch voice for an adult your size. The child, around age 5, had green hair and scraped knees. 

You're certain that she wouldn't snitch about how you left your room unguarded.

"Need something?"

"Yeah, um, I just wanna say my condolences."

You ruffled her hair. "Thanks, bambini."

She beamed.

Sadly, the kid must've mistaken this as a go signal for her to continue talking. She balled her hand into a fist and nervously cheered for you.

"I-It'll be alright, Capo. You can always make new friends! I believe in you!"

"Hmm."

"I never thought I'd ever be able to make friends but I did last month! I also met my master that time and maybe I can share some of my good luck with you!"

"Hmm."

"Are… Are you listening?"

"J-Just a little fatigued." You stifled a yawn. "Why don't you play along with your new friends, little…"

"Oh, right! I'm Collei!"

"Little Collei." You coughed, and you skillfully wiped the blood away without her knowing. "Bambini, you shouldn't talk to people like me, it's dangerous. Why don't you run along and go back to your friends now?"

"Well, I can't yet because he told me not to because he's busy right now."

"Who told you that?"

Collei smiled widely.

"Professor Tighnari!"

You froze, slowly recalling your resolve. 

It felt like the world froze for a brief moment as if the few people in the vicinity halted for you to catch up on what the little girl confessed. 

"...Tighnari?"

"Hmm, hmm!"

"And you're close to him?" You muttered.

You'll kill everyone that fox ever loved. 

Your fingers subconsciously slithered to your holster. 

That's what you decided moments prior. 

You glared down menacingly.

"Capo…?"

But a kid?

"... Is something wrong?"

You turned your apathetic gaze back at her. You're not even sure just how much this child meant to Tighnari. She might as well just be as insignificant as a pebble on a shore. But–

The gun you stole from the church guards is with you. It's light in your hands.

The light in your eyes dimmed.

"Hello?"

It has three bullets loaded.

There are only 2 other people outside the streets, both of which are teenage civilians. Taking her out would be as easy as–

"Hey, please cheer up!!!"

The child shook you, dragging you out of your trance. Little Collei appeared distressed because of your lack of reactions. You blinked a couple of times, making yourself mentally present, before pinching your forehead. Her lips are curled downward and her eyes match her cute frown, and you were grimly reminded of what you had tried to commit.

You cursed under your breath.

You're disappointed in yourself.

This is a child. A child of the church, no less. She likely had nothing to do with whatever it is Tighnari had planned. 

"You're thinking of sad thoughts too, aren't you? Don't do that! You'll only feel bad–"

"Bambini."

"Yes?"

"How many friends do you have?"

"Oh. I have two!" 

She cheerfully raised three fingers. 

"I have two friends! Amber and Tighnari!!!"

Because of her clear enthusiasm, you refrained from correcting her hand. Instead, you patted her head with a heavy conscience.

But are you wrong for thinking this way?

An eye for an eye…

You knelt at her height.

Your strained smile reached her ignorant eyes. "That sounds wonderful. I have– I had two best friends too. Can I be your third friend?"

"Really?!"

"Of course. I think optimistic people like you are reeaaally cool!" You lied between your teeth.

And one kid's death won't satisfy a worthy tribute for your fallen men. One child is not enough. 

You need to find more just like her.

"Hehe, thank you! But Amber's the coolest! I want to be like big sis Amber when I grow up!"

"Is that so? Well– I hope to hear more from you as you grow older. I'm sure you'll be the girl you always wanted to be, and I'd like to be your friend as you get there."

Collei awed.

"W-Wow, thank you! I've never gotten a compliment like that before too…"

The child never saw the sadness in your eyes, or maybe she mistook it as fondness. You continued patting her head as she melts in your touch. Fakely, you gave her a big smile.

"Then let's get to know each other." You grabbed her hands. "Why don't you show me around town, fratella?"

You can't kill this girl yet.

She nodded eagerly.

Not until you find out just how much this child means to Tighnari.

Besides, you didn't miss the flash of purple in the alleyways. Cyno was observing you from afar. You can't make haste.

You grabbed her hand.

You'll get your revenge, someday but not today, even if it arrives at your dying breath.

—----

Someone else is watching you. A second stalker.

It's not paranoia born out of the tragedy that occurred yesterday, but a fact. 

As you were greeted by an angry Candace (Cyno's coworker) who gave you a firm yet fruitless sermon about leaving the parameters, you heard the bushes rattle by the gardens. You offhandedly mentioned it to her, and it placated her fury. 

Candace agreed that she heard it as well, and she promises to take care of it as soon as you go back to confinement– "your room." Collei awkwardly bid you farewell and you promised you'll see her again in a few days. She probably thought that you were her new troublesome sibling. And speaking of troublesome…

Snatching the small glimpse of metal from the table, you pivoted your heels.

"You can't hide from me."

Masterfully, you hurled a butterknife and it landed just a few centimeters above the trespasser. He grunted almost inaudibly. Had you been any less precise that aim would've killed him, but the man had the guts to trust that you wouldn't be so foolish and kill him off without a proper interrogation. It's one of many reasons Tartaglia envies your dexterity and wit.

You glared. This man wore dark clothing yet his luminescent akasha terminal betrays any hope for a successful undercover mission. The stranger promptly calculated his response as you grabbed your remaining utensils. This time, you had a sharper blade in your arsenal.

"Speak."

"My name is Alhaitham. I'm an Akademiyan spy."

No shit. He's wearing an akasha terminal. What else could he be but a pain in the neck?

You laughed sardonically. "Oh my, a bold one, are we? Think you can take me down just because of my manor?"

"I'm not here to fight you– I'm here with a proposal, (Y/n)."

And he had the nerve not to address you as Capo.

The stranger didn't see you throw a fork in his direction until he heard the metal ring beside his ear. Some strands of his hair got caught between the points, yet he feigned an unphased disposition.

"Get out."

"Alhaitham" didn't listen. He knew you'd insist until you could drag his cold dead body into the garbage chute for Wednesday's pickup. So what did he do?

State his proposal anyways.

"I want to become Innamorati's next underboss."

Your grip on the knife loosened slightly. Alhaitham watched your serious face loosen up, but not in the reaction he hoped for. Instead, you laughed at him.

Him? Replacing Dimitri? Hilarious.

"Now that's comedy! What made you think I'll hire you? I don't know your face but I know your name."

You proudly grabbed a glass and poured yourself the wine Cyno bought that you previously insisted on not drinking. 

"Ahh, this should be entertaining. Alhaitham– the Akademiya's slaved accountant. Maybe I would've taken you in if you didn't reveal that you're a spy. Would've enjoyed dragging you around till you're drained like hell. You know, if you already told me that you're here to spy on me you might as well spill who ordered you to do so."

"Khajeh." He replied immediately.

You drank half a glass. "Hah! Figured. Barely ran into any scholars but that old man is as nosy and obnoxious as they come."

"In addition, he gave me permission to try and apply as your next underboss."

"Keyword here is try."

"The Akademiya had been spying on you for a long time–"

"I know. I'm not dumb enough not to notice your men skulking around. They're practically built like an elementary school's skeletal model." You clicked your tongue.

"–But if you take me, I am at your full disposal. I will work simultaneously for the Akademiya and you, so I'd let you in on canned knowledge trades. I'm not as weak as the others. I've been a member of multiple training corps with exceptional gra–"

He stopped abruptly when you placed your glass down. It's empty.

Alhaitham met your gaze and silently noted your unamused expression.

You have never once tried getting into any supply of canned knowledge, but that doesn't mean you'd dive into this shady business after the opportunity presents itself pronto. You've seen how Dottore handles his wares, and you know how it functions similarly to heroin.

You're not letting your men go through the same addiction as you had before.

"Are you done?" You cut him off, clearly aware that he barely started with his fluffs. Realizing that all he had done was brag, he changed topics immediately.

"I know a lot of things about you, Capo." Alhaitham's lips quivered for a brief moment. "I'd dare say I found all the dirt I could find."

"Is that so…" You replied, rather uninterested. These buzzwords have always been around since the day you became Capo, not once had they piqued your interest.

"You killed La Signora to inherit her title. You announced that she died bravely against Khaenri'ahn soldiers, but it was you whom she dueled with– and now you have her authority and more."

You laughed, once again sounding wholly bored.

"Should've known Akademiyan freaks like you are into conspiracy theories." You replied in an attempt to seem like you care. You're not sure if it worked.

"You neither confirmed nor denied my statement."

Cause he's half-wrong. You're not a brute. If you want something done, then it must be swift. There's no way you could've won a match against your old Capo, everyone would agree with that. 

It's much easier to kill her in her sleep and frame your fellow countryman's fault for everything.

"Do you need me to?"

There was no need for you to tell him that this information is useless. Many similar-sounding theories had spread during the first few months of acting as Innamorati's new Capo. Snezhnayans are very strict when it comes to blood relations, and they're not easily convinced when you told them that it was Rosalyne's final wish to instate you as their new leader. 

It was partly thanks to Viktor that the familia grew to welcome you in. He had an apparent dislike for the old capo and when you promised he'd be off guard duties his mouth started rambling. Viktor's not one to shy away from leaking the information you puppeteered him to say. You've ensured many methodologies to spread a positive campaign about you, and people began naturally supporting your cause.

All done with minimum effort.

You smiled at him sweetly. Should Alhaitham attack your reputation, you have no doubt you have the capabilities in mending it quickly despite your situation. You're loved by the Church and most importantly the masses. Now that many of your men have passed, the public would view you as a staggering symbol of mourning. Poor (Y/n).

Alhaitham didn't react. Instead, his expression dimmed, more solemn this time.

"That's just the appetizer." 

He continued. 

"The truth is, you barely have 2 years left to live because of Eleazar, isn't that right, (N/n)? That's why you always act like you're running out of time."

Your eyes widened.

Now he's not half wrong. That's the whole truth. 

You laughed again.

"Is that your best attempt at a death threat? Don't have specialized canned knowledge to teach you when to shut the fuck up?"

"I'd be happy to let you know that I'm not the only one who has conducted some… research, Capo." He digressed and walked closer. "Inquisitor Cyno, Professor Tighnari, and I know about it. It's quite a well-kept secret, really. You ought to be thankful."

Alhaitham pulled out a tissue from his pockets.

You squinted and paused.

Oh, no wonder. So that's how he came up with that conclusion. 

"You've been coughing up blood way before you joined the mafia– and it's a miracle that no one noticed your weak constitution. None except the three of us, I mean." He continued. "I had someone from our forensics team inspect this, and I'm not surprised to hear that it's from you rather than your enemies."

"Then why."

"Why?"

"Why haven't you leaked this yet? Isn't this a good thing for you Akademiyans?"

Alhaitham smirked.

"I believe I should be the one to govern my actions– why else would I stalk these dilapidated rooftops?"

"Then how long have you known?"

"Trust me, the three of us knew longer than you'd imagine. I knew about your secret ever since you sold matchsticks for a living."

Your eyebrows furrowed. 

"That was five years ago…"

"So? Doesn't change that you've been diagnosed for well over six years."

"I was barely anyone back then– I was just a beggar hustling on the streets– why make such an idiotic claim?" You rolled your eyes. "I've heard enough. Leave, while I still allow it."

Alhaitham's face softened.

"So you don't remember me…"

He handed you the tissue, and you reluctantly accepted it.

As your hands met, Alhaitham pulled you close to his chest. His face looked down on you, smug and condescending.

Alhaitham caressed your cheek, and then your lips. You flushed at the sudden contact and quickly tilted your dagger near his neck.

He whispered into your ear. 

"What a delicate flower you are, tesoro. But I will not lie, you're far from youthful– you're wilting, and I loathe watching this all unfold from afar any longer."

The Akademiyan gently pushed your dagger away and kissed your wrist. Your eyes sharpened, hastily aiming for his neck but he swiftly changed trajectory. He knew this was just a reminder that he could die in your hands if you will it. Alhaitham is not blind. He saw the way you curved your hand at the last second to prevent a lethal blow.

He stood a few feet away, no longer at arm's length. Alhaitham pushed the curtains aside with one foot already out the window.

"I'll meet you again here, 6 AM sharp. Tell me whatever it is that you decide then." He said before confidently adding "I look forward to working with you soon, (N/n)."

In the same fashion he entered, he left the room quietly. Deciding that you don't care enough to watch him leave the premises, you locked the windows shut.

You sighed, exhausted, and pulled the curtains closed.

Life won't let you catch a break…

Now, what's your schedule for tomorrow?

—------

Note: this is an interactive fic! The underlined word will lead you to a google forms link to decide what happens in the next chapter! Have fun voting!!!

Deadline: October 20, 2022 October 16, 2020

Next Chapter

#Tag: ocmc - cta #yandere genshin x reader #yandere #yandere genshin #yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere fanfiction #yandere tighnari #yandere cyno #yandere alhaitham #yandere al haitham #al haitham x reader #cyno x reader #tighnari x reader #tighnari #cyno #al haitham #yandere al haitham x reader #yandere tighnari x reader #yandere cyno x reader #yandere male #genshin impact #tw yandere #ansy-writes

[ashintheairlikesnow]

The Heretic's Confession, Chapter One

CW: Captivity whump, some... implications... references to branding. This is just me getting a feel for the idea and character, though, really.

-

The robes he once kept pristine are caked in dried mud around the hem. Grigory frowns as he inspects them, rubbing along the seam. It flakes away, leaving imprints of itself behind. 

Maudlin, certainly, but it feels like the stain of their sins painting his soul.

Maybe suffering can give even a man of the Goddess the sentiment of a poet. His lip curls in disgust at the very thought.

Please, please speak to me, Dromada. Tell your priest what he must do to escape this nightmare.

She is, and has always been, silent to his pleas for Her assistance. 

The Goddess the people worship may be a paragon of compassion and forgiveness, her sculptures solemn and grave with hands outstretched to embrace even the lowest-born of Her children, but Grigori is beginning to suspect the holy men have got it wrong. 

She isn't gracefully wise. She does not reach Her hand out to hold Her children. No, as each day passes without Her so much as whispering a reassurance, he begins to feel She is th goddess of laughter, and he is Her current favorite joke.

A knock at the door to his room - his cell, really, but of course they all like to pride themselves on keeping him in high style in his gilded cage - has him looking up, a little startled. The moon has only made half of its trek across the night sky, through the looping swirls of galaxies far, far beyond the reach of mere mortal men. That milky spin of stars, everyone knows, is where the gods live.

He wonders how many of them are looking down on him, sipping crystalline waters, and mocking his pain.

He would spit on every last temple step, if he could.

If he could just leave the fucking room-

“Brother Grigori,” His guest singsongs, half-dancing into the room. Grigory turns away from him, laying one palm over one of the iron bars that blocks any escape through the window. His fingers close slowly around it. 

“What do you want.” His voice is curt, it cuts short and sharp. “Bastard.”

“Oh, see you got my name all wrong again.” The leader of this little gang is tall - too tall - and all knees and legs, lean muscle making him heavier than he looks. Grigori is tall enough for a man, but he seems like he’s half-grown, compared to the bandit. The man’s hair is a shock of white atop his head, shaved on the sides, while Grigori’s curly brown grows to the bottom of his ears, as is prescribed for the priests. He swaths himself in black kohl around his equally dark eyes and shining black leather worn back to brown from age and ill-use at the knees and elbows. Grigori’s hazel and his dirtied robes look like a joke, placed next to the bandit’s appearance.  “It’s Bohli, remember? Or that’s what my mother calls me, anyway. Or she would, if she were still alive. She probably uses that when she curses my name from the heavens above, granted. I mean, probably, unless she really is suffering in the Dark After, like she deserves-”

“What do you want, Bohli?” Grigory’s head is already starting to hurt. “I don’t have time for this.”

“Nonsense. You have all the time in the world. You have nothing but time.”

“Not for… you. Please leave.”

“Nope. Not going anywhere. This is my house, remember? I just let you stay here.”

“Let me.” The words are sour in Grigori’s mouth. “Right, of course. Let me. Because I asked to be branded and trapped here in this room-”

“Hush. I take you for walkies every day, little god’s dog.” Bohli winks, and Grigori - who took a vow of pacifism, once - imagines stabbing his own knife through his eyeball until it comes out the other side of his head. “If you don’t want a leash, you just have to prove you won’t run off.”

He would, of course. Run. Outside, the woods stretch far and wide. There’s a path he could take to find a village, to find freedom...

Or… more realistically… to get arrested for being in league with Bohli and his bastards, which he isn’t, but everyone knows the goddess would save Her most faithful, and he’s been here too long. He would be branded a heretic. Everyone knows he’s a heretic. His own fellow priests would turn their backs on him. The people would burn him at the stake, for being defiled, degraded, a paragon of nothing but the filth they have covered him in. Little more than a bandit himself. 

Maybe he is one.

Dromada would have saved him if he were truly Hers to save. And instead, here he is, the infamous giver of absolution to the men and women who massacre whole towns in defiance of - in direct insult to - the power and might of His Majesty, the King.

No. he would be burned as an enemy of the King's, and he would have no standing to defend himself. A captive this long isn't a captive at all, in the eyes of the world.

Just a man who no longer wants to be saved.

Tears prick at his eyes, and he struggles not to let Bohli see them and mock him even more. It’s not like he hasn’t already been marked. It was one of the first things they did. Bohli had given the order and watched while they tied him down. Grigori himself had been made to look as they put the iron in the fire, made to watch them heat it to red. Bohli had been whispering in his ear when when they pressed it to his pelvis, and Bohli had cooed over him while he screamed, stroking through his sweaty hair.

“Just leave,” He whispers, the area aching all over again. They branded him over the symbol of Dromada tattooed, a mark of his vow of chastity.

Another one broken.

Maybe that was when She stopped listening.

“Oh, but I can’t, darling Grigori. I’ve come to make a confession.” Bohli laughs, and his laughter could make you bleed even better than his blade. But somehow Grigori can’t seem to die from the loss. “Isn’t that why I keep a priest of Dromada around, anyway? For to save my poor mortal soul?”

Grigori fights the urge to wish aloud someone would poison the asshole’s food. “You would burn if you touched the Hem of her robe.”

“Maybe.” Bohli shrugs, kicking a chair over and dropping down into it, loose-limbed. His eyes spark with delight as he takes in Grigori’s misery. “But you wear Her robes, and yet I never burn when I touch you-”

“Speak your confession,” Grigory snaps, his heart twisting and going briefly silent and still in his chest. He feels blood rush to his face, and Bohli’s peal of bright, brittle laughter tells him the flush isn’t going unnoticed. 

“Say it.” Bohli watches him, and it’s like being watched by one of the terrifying big cats that roam the woods just beyond this hideous prison. Unblinking, a predator’s stare. “Say the words, priest.”

Each time he does, they feel more bitter on his tongue. 

But still.

Grigori draws the ruins of his robe closer around himself, and sits up straight. He swallows and sets his jaw. “Bohlinde hir Maksma en Ygridsen, the goddess Dromada hears and forgives all from those who love Her. You have only to ask. Speak, child, and be forgiven.”

Bohli licks his lips, leaning forwards. Somehow, Grigori can’t make himself look away. The bandit leader’s teeth are sharp - those canines can rend skin from bone. He’s part-elf, they say, somewhere in his bloodline the half-mindless shrieking hordes of the elven race lurk. You can always tell, so it’s said, from the sharpness of their teeth. From how little they care for the lives of men.

Maybe he’s half-elf.

It would explain why he’s so fucking smug.

“Forgive me, Dromada’s Chosen, for I have sinned against Her,” Bohli says, and he doesn’t even try to feign sincerity. Why he even plays this game, when Dromada isn’t a goddess for the elves of their wretched offspring to begin with, is beyond Grigori’s understanding.

Grigori fights the urge to sigh. He makes Dromada’s Sign, wondering if it even calls to Her any longer. If She even feels the spark of a follower’s call, or if he’s cut off from Her entirely. Who hears him when he prays?

Does anyone?

“How have you sinned against Our Mother, She Who Gave the Waters?” 

Bohli licks his lips. His smile is a little too wide, shows too many of those sharp, sharp teeth. He'd be blisteringly handsome, if it weren’t for the sight of fangs where none should be. “I won’t lie, Brother Grigori. I set some stuff on fire yesterday. And I’m going to do it again. Will I be forgiven?”

Grigori imagines the mud climbing higher and higher up his robes, pulling him into the earth, forcing itself down his mouth and pressing over his eyes. He imagines the gods in the sky, looking down from their stars.

The image shatters with the memory of first sitting at the table with the dozen or so of Bohli's favorites, each of them smiling at him, while he sat in his pure white robes and felt himself bared, as if naked, before them.

Until Bohli had given the order for what to do with him.

“Dromada forgives all who seek Her,” Grigori intones, thoughtless. The words memorized before he was even thirteen years old, before he was old enough to take his vows. Before he was taken, and they were all broken, one by one. Bohli loved breaking Grigori's vows. “You have only to ask.”

“Good.” Bohli’s voice drops low. He has to focus to hear it, which is probably the bastard’s entire point. “Because I really, really love asking, and I love the sound of your answers.”

The bandit stands, walking over to him, putting one finger under his chin and forcing Grigori to look up - and up, and up, and up - to see the demon smile.

Grigori is sure, as Bohli watches him with his head tipped to the side and his black eyes as bright as the stars, that he can hear the goddess laughing.

#whump #new whump #the heretic's confession #captivity #captivity whump #intimate whumper #creepy whumper #fantasy whump #some weird fantasy race stuff happening here #just go with it #religious whump #religion whump #fantasy writing #bohli is a bad bad man #grigori is just a tired blorbo

[atierrorian]

Hello! How are you currently doing? I hope your doing absolutely fine! And I love your blog so much, I was wondering if you could possibly write about Riddle? Like a study date with Riddle and as Riddle rambles about history and all that yada yada, he suddenly hears snoring and sees his beloved rose falling asleep and basically puts them to bed and they cuddle with them?

And can you make the gender female? Thank you! And take your time Author(⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠❤

Aw! Hello!! And thank you so much for asking dear Anon! I am doing just fine actually but thank you so much for asking! And this is such a cute request!

Context: You fall asleep while studying with Riddle and he puts you into bed and cuddles with you

tw: None!

Characters: Riddle Rosehearts

Note: There are some grammar mistakes so be aware of that but other than that do enjoy this fanfic! The gender is also female, but you can still read whatever gender you want!

Word count: 439

If you were being honest here, you were feeling really really sleepy. Hearing Riddle ramble and talking about history was relaxing but also really really tiring.

You really did try not to go ahead and just slam your head on the table and sleep the day away, you don't remember how many times you yawned but really, who counts their yawns? (Unless you do then ignore this)

You love Riddle, you truly do, but sometimes you just want to cuddle with him and have sweet dreams, is that so hard to ask? Well to be fair you were the one who asked for this so, I guess it is technically your fault. Well studying with Riddle is great, It's just sometimes so boring!!

You couldn't help it, you really did try to help it tho, but your eyes felt really really droopy and you felt so exhausted, so you fell asleep, while sitting.

The moment you closed your eyes for a few seconds, you went into the dream realm and looked like you weren't about to wake up any time soon, that's for sure.

Of course, Riddle heard soft snores and finally decided to stop reading and when he looked at your direction, he saw you sleeping, while sitting.

Riddle sighed as this was one of your habits. He didn't mind, but he was surprised at first. He then realized that you had just fallen asleep during the lessons but decided to let it slide. (The favoritism I tell you)

Riddle kept looking at your sleeping figure and decided to just put you to bed, it was a pretty long day for the both of you, and Riddle and getting sleepy himself too.

Riddle then stood up and decided to wrap a blanket around you and carry you back to bed. (Idk how if your taller than him but don't underestimate him)

He heard more soft snores coming from you and put you down on the bed with the blanket on as you looked more comfortable now and had a small but visible smile.

Riddle looked at you and smiled as well.

"How did someone like you even managed to love someone like me?" He thought as he kept looking at your sleeping figure.

Riddle sat down next to you and yawned as well.

"Well I guess a little nap couldn't hurt.." He thought before laying down next to you.

Riddle fell asleep asleep next to you as both of you were in the realm of dreams.

Safe and sound in togethers warm embrace with a small and soft smile plastered on both your faces.

The studies could wait.

That was such a wholesome request! And really easy to write so thank you for that request and I do hope you enjoy it! I am so sorry it's short! But I still had fun writing this!

#atier's works✎ #Twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #Riddle Rosehearts x reader #twst scenario #twisted wonderland scenario

[ghost-runner]

“Useless” and “Troubled” until the End: Epilogue

Sully Family x “Useless” Fourth Child Male Reader

Summary: The aftermath of the Battle of the SeaDragon with what happens to Y/N and his family.

Warning: Death of a character, resurrection, character receiving life changing damage, etc…

Note: Because I had people from both sides wanting Y/N to live and die. I chose to do this….I hope it satisfies everyone’s expectations.

Another note: Thank you for the continuous support on this story series. I never thought that many people would actually find it interesting or enjoyable to be completely honest.

— Y/N POV

Y/N: I-I l-love y-you a-all….

Everything went black as I closed my eyes, feeling a sense of peace wash over me for a few minutes before I opened my eyes to see myself at sitting in a chair that was essentially some sort of beach lounger chair. I looked around me to see that everything was peaceful with no signs of war anywhere in sight. I saw many Metkayina and Otamikaya Na’vi playing with their children or siblings as couples also walked past with an aura of love emanating from their presence. I then heard someone speak to me from my left.

???: I knew you were a strong one, even when you were already down for the count. I couldn’t be more proud of you.

I looked to my left to see an older looking Na’vi sitting in a chair similar to me as he enjoyed the setting sun we could currently see wherever we are at. I, however felt something off about my neck and I reached for it to only realize that I didn’t have my grandfather’s necklace around my neck anymore. I looked at the older looking Na’vi to see he had on my necklace, just now realizing I was sitting with my grandfather, Eytukan. Grandfather turned to me.

(This is what he looks like in case you didn’t know.)

Y/N: I never expected to see you, Grandfather. Let alone be with Eywa right now.

Eytukan: I’m happy to meet one of my grandchildren. Even if I’m one with Eywa now. I’m very proud of you for everything that you have done, my grandson.

Y/N: I could not be more happier to hear than, Grandfather.

I got up from my chair as Grandfather did the same and he embraced me in a big hug. I then heard some footsteps come up near where me and Grandfather were hugging at when I heard a female and male voice from behind me.

??: I could not be more proud of my nephew as well.

?: I’m proud of you, Y/N. You proved yourself to be a true warrior.

I let go of Grandfather to turn around and I saw a young looking female Na’vi and a gruff looking Na’vi warrior.

Y/N: Thank you, but who are you two.

?? And ?: We’re your aunt and uncle.

??: I’m Sylwanin, your mother’s older sister.

?: Tsu’tey. Your aunt’s betrothed.

(This is Sylwanin)

(This is Tsu’tey)

Sylwanin: We saw everything that you’ve done. You couldn’t make any of us more proud for what you do, little warrior.

Tsu’tey: You proved that you are a true hunter and warrior. I could not be more honored than to tell you that, my boy.

Y/N: That means a lot to me to hear that from you, Auntie Syl. Thank your for your kind words, Uncle, Tsu’tey.

I hug them both when I hear my grandfather speak out in shock.

Eytukan: Never in all my days did I ever think I would meet a Sky-person who is one with Eywa.

???: The universe works in very strange ways. There’s no telling what will happen next.

I recognize the voice I hear immediately and turn around to see Uncle Tom once again as he comes up next to me on my right.

Y/N: Uncle Tom! You’re here!

I give him a big hug as well.

Eytukan: If I’ll be honest, Tom, I don’t think before today, I’ve ever meet a normal looking Sky-person.

Tom: Hey, there’s a first for everything.

????: That’s a big understatement right there.

I heard a voice that I had never heard or recognized so I turned to my left to see another normal looking sky-person coming towards the five of us. It was a redhead woman with a white lab coat on who I immediately recognized her to be Kiri’s biological mother, Grace Augustine.

Grace: I could not be happier with how far you’ve come on your journey, my young friend.

Grace looked at me as she smiled.

Grace: Both you and my daughter have proven yourselves to be one with Eywa. I hope you can try to continue that.

Y/N: But isn’t this the afterlife with Eywa?

Tom: It is, but it’s not your time yet.

Uncle Tom points me to where a vision can be seen. It’s my family and friends crying over my body as it lays there. Mom is crying her eyes out as she cradled my body, praying to Eywa to bring his son back. Dad is remaining silent as he lets his tears fall down his face, regret written all over his face as he thinks of the ways he failed me as my father, Kiri is over with Tsireya and Tuk as the three all cry at the sight of me dying. Neteyam and Lo’ak are just staring down at the ground, letting their own tears go as they silently think of how they didn’t try to help me a lot before they hugged each other. Spider just looked down at the ground in shame, blaming himself for my death for trusting his ���father”. I feel myself tear up at the sight of this and I feel everyone hug me to comfort me as I hug them back, letting me own tears fall. I let all of them go and I hear my grandfather speak once more time.

Eytukan: My boy, it will be a painful and long journey to get back. It could take weeks to months for you to fully return to the land of the living, and you might not even make it back fully. There is also a chance that you might have irreversible damage done to your body and self. Are you prepared for the journey back?

Y/N: ……Yes…….I’m willing to take the risk.

Eytukan: Alright then. When you get back to the land if the living, tell my daughter that I miss her dearly.

Sylwanin: And tell her that her sister misses her as well.

Tom: Tell your father that I miss him.

Grace: Tell my daughter that I will always be watching over her.

Y/N: I will.

I give everyone one more hug before I start walking towards the vision. I feel more and more pain as I walk towards it before I feel everything around me fade and I’m left in darkness before I black out.

— back at the rocks with the Sullys —

— 3RD PERSON POV

Neytiri was cradling her youngest son’s body as she cried when she felt her son’s heartbeat and he started to let out very small ragged breaths. Neytiri let her son go and looked over him, noticing that his eyes didn’t open back up. She held him up worriedly as she looked to Jake who came over to her when he noticed Neytiri’s change in demeanor. Jake put two fingers to Y/N’s pulse spot on his neck and felt a faint heartbeat and small slow breathes. He knew his son was alive. Jake took Y/N from Neytiri and signaled for everyone to gather up and head back to shore. However, when Jake to bring Y/N to his Skimwing, she saw out of the corner of his eye that the fully white Skimwing that he knew was his son’s Skimwing popped up to the surface where Neteyam was scratching her muzzle while Bel’lia stared at Jake with curiosity about her rider. Jake brought Y/N’s body over to him and Bel’lia let out a sorrowful screech while Neteyam took Y/N from their father and gently placed his body onto Bel’lia as Bel’lia started to swim home with the comatose boy and his older brother on her.

— at a makeshift medical tent —

We currently see Y/N’s comatose body on a makeshift bed inside of a makeshift medical tent as Norm and Max checked him over. Ronal and Tonowari watched the two men work in silence as they feel sorry for their friends about the state the boy is in. Norm placed a respirator mask over Y/N’s face to help the kid breathe as he continued to check the boy’s vitals while Max started to preform emergency surgery on the boy to remove the three bullets that were still in Y/N’s body. Norm moved down to help his friend try to save the life of the boy. Jake and Neytiri only now come into the tent after getting the rest of the family to fall asleep as they watched the scene as Max pulled out the tools needed to remove the bullets from the boy. After a few hours of surgery, the procedure is complete and Y/N is all patched up, but he’ll have scars across his stomach from his surgery. Norm just about finished stitching up the poor boy as Max checked the boy’s vitals one more time. Both scientists finished with Y/N before they to everyone in the room.

Norm: We have both good news and bad news…

Max: The good news is that Y/N will survive his injuries. He’s a lucky kid considering one bullet was two inches away from hitting his heart and that another bullet was close to hitting his stomach.

Norm: But the bad news is that he’s in a comatose state and we don’t have any idea when he’ll wake up. There’s a chance he may not wake up at all. Also, we checked his vitals and there’s also a chance that if he does wake up, he could possibly end up blind from being in his coma.

Jake nodded silently at this while Neytiri looked at her son in worry that he wouldn’t wake up from his coma. Norm put his hand onto Neytiri’s shoulder.

Norm: The only thing we can do now is hope that he wakes up.

Neytiri nods at Norm. Norm and Max pack up their things before they leave the medical tent. Jake and Neytiri went to their son and they looked down at Y/N while he still had the respirator mask over his face with his eyes closed shut. His breathing was slow and steady as he laid on the metal bed.

Jake whispering: I’m sorry…

Neytiri: Please. Wake up, my son.

The two turn to Tonowari and Ronal who both look at Y/N with sorrowful faces.

Ronal: I’m sorry about what has happened to your son.

Tonowari: I want you both to know that you and your family are now officially Metkayinas. I’m proud to have you as clan members. I’m sorry about your son.

Jake: Thank you.

Norm and Max come back into the tent and speak to everyone.

Norm: If everyone is alright, it’s be best for you to get some sleep with how late it is right now. Max and I will watch over Y/N and let you know immediately if anything changes with him.

Joe: Thank you, Norm.

Neytiri: Thank you, Max.

Norm turns to the Chief and the Tshaìk.

Norm: Chief Tonowari. If it’s acceptable with you, my partner and I would like to stay to supervise Y/N’s condition . That way, we can make sure that Y/N is remaining alright and we can easily reach Jake and Neytiri in case things change.

Tonowari: I’ll allow it for as long as it is needed.

Ronal: I hope the boy gets better.

Ronal turns to Jake and Neytiri.

Ronal: I’m sorry for what I did when you first arrived from the jungles. I hope you can find the chance to forgive me for the disrespect I showed to your family.

Jake: It’s understandable for why you did it. It’s no problem.

Neytiri: I appreciate the apology. I’m just more worried about our son for the moment right now.

Norm: It’s best if everyone goes back home to get some sleep. There’s no reason to stay awake worrying about him when all we can do is let him wake up when he can.

— 3 months later —

We currently see Norm and Max taking notes on Y/N’s vitals when we see Kiri and Neteyam walk into the medical tent. The two went over to Y/N before they began telling him about the day and what happened, regardless of knowing that he probably couldn’t hear them. However; soon they saw Y/N move his hand for the first time in three months and they heard him groaning. Quickly, Neteyam ran out of the tent to find the entire family to notify them that Y/N was waking up from his coma while Kiri stayed behind to make her youngest brother was okay. Norm and Max quickly unplug Y/N from the medical equipment that he was hooked up to and took the respirator mask off of the hot when Y/N started taking very deep breaths of the salt air of the ocean in the late afternoon. Y/N finally opened his eyes, but there was a problem….

— Y/N POV

I finally felt myself in my body again as I slowly moved my hand, regaining control of my body. I let out a low groan as I started to take deep breaths to get air back into my lungs as I felt wires and a mask on my body when I started to get up. I soon felt the mask and wires being taken off of my body when I felt someone squeezing my hand. I opened my eyes, only to realize I could not see anything around me, but darkness around me. I am honestly a little freaked out at this, but I hear an unmistakable voice speak to me.

Kiri: Y/N! Thank Eywa that you’re alright.

I am immediately hugged by Kiri, but I worry as I can’t see anything at all. Kiri pulls away from me after hugging me.

Y/N: Kiri? Where are you? I can’t see anything.

Kiri: I’m right next to you, little brother.

I reach out to my right to feel nothing there and I sense Kiri tense up, realizing that something is significantly wrong.

Kiri: I’m to your left…..

I reach to my left and again I don’t feel anything. Kiri grabs my hand and brings it to where she said she was.

Kiri: Are you okay, Y/N?

Y/N: I’m honestly scared… I can’t see anything at all.

Norm: Hold on, Y/N. Let me check something.

— 3RD PERSON POV —

Norm grabs a tool that allows him to examine Y/N’s eyes. After a few minutes of examining his eyes, Norm knew that the boy was blind after seeing how his pupils reacted to the light. Just then, the rest of the Sully family walked into the medical tent when Norm finished his examination.

Norm: I was afraid of this…

Jake: Norm, what’s the situation?

Norm: It’s something to do with Y/N and I’m sure that none of you are going to like this.

The family preps themselves for whatever Norm has to say as Norm turns to them.

Norm: Sadly, Y/N has lost all usable vision in his eyes, causing him to go blind. I wish there was something we can do, but I don’t even know if this can be fixed to be honest.

Everyone looks horrified at the news that their son and brother has gone blind while Y/N slowly lets it sink in, accepting and coming to terms with his new condition.

Y/N: Well, what can I do now?

Norm: Well, you’ll need to have constant supervision due to your loss of sight. You will also need to adapt to being blind. I’m sure that your family will help.

Norm looks to the Sully clan and sees them quickly discuss something. He waits for them to finish and they turn back to him.

Jake: Is he okay to come home?

Norm: Yes, everything else is good to go with your boy.

Jake: I’m glad to hear that.

Neytiri: Y/N, come on, dear. Let’s get you home.

Neytiri goes to her son and helps him off the bed when Kiri and Lo’ak went to Y/N’s side and help him follow them back to their marui. Once Y/N was safely home at the marui, he was helped to sit down on the floor by Kiri and Neteyam and everyone in his family surrounded him.

Y.N: There’s something I want to tell you guys first before we do anything…

Jake: What is it?

Y/N: When my heart stopped, I was temporarily in the afterlife and I saw a few people up there. Mom, I saw Grandfather and Aunt Sylwanin. They miss you dearly. And they are watching over us. Dad, I saw Uncle Tom and he misses you too. Kiri, Grace told me that she is proud of how far you have come.

I could tell that everyone was shocked, even if I could not see the looks on their faces.

Jake: I’m glad you’re okay, though, Y/N. There’s so many things we should have done long ago.

Neytiri: We can not let you go on alone anymore, Y/N.

Kiri: Y/N. You’re not going through this by yourself. We’re all here for you.

Neteyam: We’re going to help you through this.

Lo’ak: We are all going to help you, bro.

Tuk: I’m here to help you, Y/N.

Y/N: Thank you.

My family all give me a big group hug and I smile widely, knowing that I’m not alone anymore and that I’m not going to be “Useless” or “Troubled” again.

The end.

And here’s for the people who wanted Y/N to die.

— 3RD PERSON POV, back at the rocks with the Sully family —

Y/N: I love you all…

Y/N closed his eyes with a feeling of peace as Jake takes his arms off of Y/N’s wounds and picks his son up in his arms. He feels his son’s pulse and feels the faint beat of Y/N’s heart and beckons Neytiri to help him hold their son. As Neytiri helps her mate hold their son and they hold him closely to their chests as they pray to Eywa for a miracle to happen. They soon feel Y/N’s heartbeat begin to slow even more before the beat fades entirely, signaling that Y/N has passed to the afterlife.

Neytiri: NOOO!! MY SON!!! MA Y/N!!

Neytiri bursts into tears and cries to Eywa for her son passing away while Jake just closes his eyes as he lets his tears fall down his face silently. Kiri, Tsireya, and Tuk were all in a group hug as they cried for the death of their brother and friend. Neteyam and Lo’ak just looked at each other before they then hugged each other and let their own tears fall. Spider did not know what to think, knowing his best friend is now gone by the hand of his “father”. After about five minutes, Jake composed himself and looked down to his now deceased son before he put his forehead against Y/N’s cold forehead. He pulls his head away after a minute before he silently picked up Y/N’s body and made his way to the water to make his way to his Skimwing when he sees Bel’lia poke her head up from the water and she makes a sad noise when she saw her rider’s body. Jake knew that Bel’lia would want one more moment with Y/N and signaled to Meytiri to take their son. Neytiri takes Y/N’s body from Jake and takes his body over to the white Skimwing before she sets the body down onto the rocks. Bel’lia puts her about against Y/N’s head and closes her eyes for a minute before she pulls away before gesturing to Neytiri to ride in her with Y/N’s body. Neytiri picks up Y/N’s body and settles his body onto Bel’lia’s back before she gets settled on her. Bel’lia then begins swimming back to the islands while Neytiri removes her son’s songcord and necklace from around his neck.

— 3RD PERSON POV, Y/N’s funeral at the Cove of the Ancestors —

Note: This was the song that originally played during Neteyam’s funeral in the movie so I thought it would fit here.

All of the Metkayina tribe was standing around as the Sully family along with Tsireya and Ao’nung brought their deceased loved one and friend on a small raft while Ronal and Tonowari recited an old and important message for a safe passage to the afterlife with Eywa. Kiri is trying her hardest not to cry as she looks at her youngest brother’s body while Spider squeezed her hand. She was the closest with Y/N for their shared live of nature and their connection to Eywa. Lo’ak and Neteyam look at their brother’s body in sadness, knowing they should have done more for their brother. Tuk looked at her big brother’s body and hugged his arm quietly. Neytiri was holding Y/N’s own songcord which now had seven beads around it and Y/N’s necklace that he received from Mo’at. The two new beads represent Y/N’s final greatest achievements in his last moments in life: Saving his sister and proving that he is truly one of the family, even if he was not aware of it. Neytiri began to sing Y/N’s songcord while Jake began to bring Y/N’s body towards the middle of the cove with his remaining children helping him move the small raft. Jake took his son’s body off the raft once they were in the middle of the cove and placed the body onto the surface of the water, allowing Y/N’s body to float on the surface. Tsireya then went over to her friend’s body before she placed a kiss onto Y/N’s cold lips, signifying the bond she hoped to have with him before he passed away. After Tsireya pulled away, Ao’nung placed Y/N’s knife onto his chest and brought both of Y/N’s arms to hold it against his chest before he nodded to the body of his now froemd, showing the respect that Y/N gained from Ao’nung for everything. From beating his ass to surviving the akula to saving his sister, Ao’nung had a great sense of respect for Y/N that he wished he could have shown him.

Y/N’s body then began to sink down into the water as everyone close by dove beneath the surface. Everyone watched in silence as Y/N’s body sunk down until he reached the base of the cove before his body was absorbed by the ocean floor. Everyone closed their eyes for a few moments to give Y/N their peace. Everyone except Jake and Neytiri swam back up to the surface while the two parents swam down to the Spirit Tree before they connected their queues to the Spirit Tree. Jake and Neytiri felt themselves be pulled out of their bodies and were transported to the realm where they can visit spirits. They look around them to see that they are at an open space with some sturmbeests drinking some water when they hear the noise of someone setting up something a bit away from them.

Jake and Neytiri looked up to where the noise was coming from and they saw their son laying prone on his stomach as he set up some sort of heavy bolt action rifle with a bipod stabilizing the barrel.

(The rifle in question)

Y/N was also currently wearing attire that looked very odd to both of his parents. He was dressed in a fully black tank top, camouflage shorts, and combat boots which make him look like a Sky-person. Y/N also looked much older than he was when he passed away, he looked to be like he just turned 21. Y/N finished setting up his rifle and got into position to where he was looking through his scope. He adjusted the rifle scope before he readied himself and slowly started to squeeze the trigger of his rifle. He fully pulled the trigger of the gun before the bullet he shot from his gun soared through the air until it met its mark in the side of one of the sturmbeests, hitting its heart: the giant herbivore immediately fell over dead before Y/N pulled away from his rifle scope and stared at his fresh kill. He turned to his left to see his parents looking at him in shock and smiled softly as he got up and made his way over to them. Once he reached them, he spoke.

Y/N: Hey Mom, hey Dad.

He is immediately pulled into a hug by his parents who hug him tightly and he returned the hug after a moment of catching his breath. He then feels some wet things hit his head so he looked up to see his parents were crying and their tears hit his head.

Y/N: Mom, Dad, come on, you don’t need to cry…

Neytiri: How can we not cry after seeing you when you passed away before our eyes?

Y/N: You need to be strong for the family. I’ll always be in your hearts.

Jake: I know, I know.

Y/N: I’ll always be here with you. Now, come on, let’s get to the sturmbeest I killed before it rots.

Y/N walks away from his parents as they begin to follow him to where his fresh kill is at. Y/N begins to carve the beast for meat using his knife and managed to cut enough for three plates for Jake, Neytiri, and himself. Once he finished, he went over to his camp setup not too far away from where he had setup his sniper position. Y/N sat down and began to cook the meat over a small fire that he had at his camp. Jake and Neytiri decided to sit down on a log that was near the fire as they waited until the meat was cooked thoroughly before Y/N passed them their plates of meat to them. The three began to eat the meat while Jake and Neytiri stole glances at their youngest son who looked so mature now. They were proud of the warrior their son became, even if this was just the afterlife.

Y/N: Mom, Dad, you can stop staring at me and just talk with me instead.

Jake and Neytiri looked up to see Y/N looking at them with his plate finished.

Jake: Why are you dressed like a human?

???: I can explain that.

??: I can explain that as well.

Jake and Neytiri turned to their left and saw Tom Sully and Grace Augustine in her human form walking up to the three as they sat down next to Y/N in some of the empty chairs that were at his camp setup. Y/N’s camp had a small setup of 6 chairs around it it with Y/N, Grace, and Tom sitting in three of them.

Jake: Tom?! Is that really you?!

Tom: It is, brother.

Tom and Jake both got up and embraced one another in a tight hug, happy to see each other’s twin brother after so many years. Grace then got up to embrace her friend that she also watched over for many years. Jake sat back down as Grace and Tom did the same.

Grace: We provided the clothes that Y/N is currently wearing. He decided to choose this for his afterlife as it shows the fruits of his labor through his self-taught skills with tools he knows to use.

Tom: He takes a lot after the both of you with his skill and his resourcefulness.

Neytiri: I’m proud of you, my son.

???: He has a lot for you both to be very proud of.

Jake and Neytiri hear a very familiar voice and saw it belonged to Neytiri’s father, Eytukan who was being followed by Tsu’tey and Sylwanin. The three Na’vi sat down in the remaining chairs around the for.

Neytiri: Father…

Neytiri got up and ran to her father, hugging him tightly as Sylwanin and Tsu’tey joined the group hug. Y/N smiled at the reunion between his mom and her family while Jake smiled silently. Neytiri pulled away from the group hug and sat back down on the log and everyone else sat back down in the remaining chairs.

Neytiri: Father. I’m so happy to se Eytukan again. I’m so happy to see you as well, Sister.

Eytukan: It’s very good to see you, my daughter. I’m proud of how far you have come with your family and efforts. Jake, you’ve done a great job with preserving your people.

Jake: Thank you.

Eytukan: But we have also come to talk about your boy.

Sylwanin: Your son has a long way with his journey. Even if you haven’t been there for him a lot.

Tsu’sey: You need to continue to watch out for the rest of your family. You can’t let what happened with Y/N happen to your other children.

Y/N: I do want to say something though.

Y/N got up from his chair and went over to the log where his parents were sitting and sat in between them before he grabs his mother’s left and and his father’s right hand.

Y/N: Mom, Dad. Even though you were not there for me a lot of the time throguhoit my life on Pandora. I still love you no matter what. The times I did get to spend with you, I hold each moment dearly in my heart. I love you both dearly and that I want you to know that I forgive you. Don’t blame yourselves for what has happened.

Y/N squeezed Jake and Neytiri’s hands before he let go, only to be pulled into a tight hug by his parents as they begin to cry, Y/N let his own tears silently fall as he felt everyone else joining in the group hug. After a few minutes everyone pulled away as Y/N stood back up and looked into his parents’s eyes.

Y/N: I’ll always be with you in your hearts and I will always be watching over the family. It’s time for you two to go. I love you, Mom. I love you, Dad.

Y/N gave them one more hug before Jake and Neytiri felt themselves be pulled back to the real world. Jake and Neytiri looked at each other in silence before they disconnected their queues from the Spirit Tree. They then swam up to the surface of the water and made their way to where their children are at.

Lo’ak: Mom, Dad, what was that about?

Jake: We saw your brother.

Neteyam: What happened?

Neytiri: He will always be watching over us no matter what happens and he will always be in our hearts.

The entirety of the Sully family all hug one another, happy to know that Y/N will always be with them as he watched over them. Vaguely off in the distance, we can see the ghostly presence of Y/N watching his family hug before he silently wiped a tear away from his eye, happy to know that he family will be stronger than ever.

The end.

Well, that’s the epilogue of my multi-part story. I’m happy with all the support my story has gotten so thank you to everyone that has left nice comments and likes on my works and I never expected to have people enjoy the story so much. I hope that this accommodated for both sides of the issue with Y/N’s end. I hope everyone did enjoy the epilogue as much I as I did writing it and I’ll admit, I did cry a little wheni I was thinking of the ideas for this. I currently do not have any ideas for what I want to write next so I’m hoping some people might leave some ideas in the comments. Thank you.

#atwow x reader #atwow x you #avatar imagine #avatar kiri #avatar the way of water #avatar x male reader #jake sully #neteyam #tuk sully #neytiri #atwow loak

[wishluc]

So i have had this thought for a while now.. kaeya or venti with a S/O who loves winter and all kinds of sparky lights/candles they lights candles and play in the snow and are just generally really happy when it's winter time

CW: yandere character

Kaeya finds this terribly unfair.

So you could welcome the cold snow of Dragonspine biting your exposed fingers till they were numb, and you could embrace the sharp, icy wind as it danced around you, and you could it all with a blindingly warm smile—but the minute he was to approach, you'd flinch away like he was some kind of monster, you'd tremble in his arms, as though the cold of his vision enveloped him whole in blazing iciness, and you wouldn't even spare a moment to talk to him, not even a glance in his direction when he brought you something to eat and offered to take you out. It was like he existed only as something frightening and despicable to you—something completely undeserving of love, not even worth a single word.

Your eyes sparkled with life as you drew shapes in the snow-blanketed ground with your finger, unable to hide the excitement in your every step. Bitter thoughts festered in his mind as he watches you, and he considers being a little mean. It didn't matter if you were to be mad at him, anything would be better than the stiff-lipped silence you guarded yourself with. Maybe he should do as the dark corner of his mind urges, and grab your frigid hands and drag you back home, or let you stay in the cold as long as you'd like, until you were frozen to the bone and shivering, and refuse to offer his warmth to you no matter how many times you looked at him from the corner of your eye.

He could be cruel too, if he wanted to. And he did want, but as much as he wished to give in to the intense resentment that coiled around his heart and squeezed in hopes of soothing the pain and the aching loneliness inside him, Kaeya decided against it—more than anything, all he wanted was to be the source of your happiness. He didn't feel any better after denying himself petty revenge, but...you would appreciate the sentiment if you knew, wouldn't you?

He laughs at himself; who was he kidding? You'd appreciate nothing that came from him.

Still, he tells himself that he can appreciate the scene before him. What was a few more hours of yearning, or wanting, to him now? He leans back against the crumbling wall, and watches you fall back onto the thick snow, looking up at the empty white sky with a large, uninhibited grin, rivalling the brightness of the sun.

He looks up too, only to try and find what brought you such joy; but he thinks that the unmoving clouds and chill in the air are nothing compared to the slow, cool breeze of the nights he brings you out to the balcony, blanketed by the twinkling stars and a serene silence. But of course, then, you'd never have such a lovely look on your face, and that makes the current picture all the more enticing.

Kaeya languidly stretches out his arms, hoping to catch your attention, "I think it's time we leave."

For a fleeting moment, he hopes that you'd turn to look at him with your joy still lingering, but you sit up and stare at him, and your solemn expression says it all. Any tranquility you may have found at the moment, any semblance of peace shatters the minute he foolishly spoke out, but you still looked at him, and he can make do with that.

Still, there's no protest from you, no dragging of feet, no regretful glances back. You let him hold your hand and walk alongside him back the way you came. It's not much, but it's something, and it starts a bright flame of hope in him.

Just like how you stubbornly braved the cold to indulge in your little desires, Kaeya thinks he can bear the frigid iciness of your heart, and maybe someday, he can thaw it out, too.

all works © wishluc. do not copy, steal or repost my works on other platforms. (including translations)

#[gahhhh i just love hurting Kaeya] #[he's forever my number one though ♡] #[i think his loneliness really eats away at him :( which is why i was a little nicer to him here] #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin x you #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact #genshin impact kaeya #yandere kaeya #yandere kaeya x reader #kaeya x reader #kaeya x you #yandere x reader #yandere x reader drabble #cw yandere #[just realizing how chill (lol) this is compared to my other stuff] #asa.writes 🌀 #anon mail. 🌀 #mail. 🌀 #genshin. 🌀 #kaeya. 🌀 #requested work. 🌀 #drabble. 🌀 #drabble request v01. 🌀

[starlightandfairies]

Oh thank you soooooo much for doing my imagine !! 😍 I loved it sooo much !

So I dare to send in another idea for our precious Elijah ☺️ maybe something where you're dating but didn't have much time for each other lately, due to all the events happing around you. So one night he invites you over to the Mansion and you catch him cooking for you, which you find is extremely hot. You have dinner together and later you show him movies of the current century he might have missed out. Then he asks you to stay the night, and he can't resist you any longer and makes love to you that night (you don't need to write a smutty part). In the morning he wakes up with you still lying bare in his arms and he feels pure happiness as he admires you, still sound asleep and as you wake up, he tells you how much he loves you and you spend the day cuddling in bed, just being with each other ? ❤️🫶🏼

Description: Date night with Elijah Mikaelson leads to a closer bond forming

Warnings: fluff, mentions of sex but not written, swearing, she/her pronouns.

*Requests are open, please send through as many requests as you want, check my character list and requesting rules.*

I'm glad you liked it! Thank you for requesting again and always feel free to keep on requesting! I hope you enjoy this one as well!

Key: Y/N = Your Name, POV = Point of view

Word Count: 1,334

First Person's POV

I was missing Elijah greatly, with everything that had been going on lately we hadn't had much time to be together, it was frustrating and I needed to be with him again, I needed to properly see him again and all my wishes had been answered when Elijah invited me over for dinner. Walking into the mansion, I placed my coat on the coat rack, followed the smell of the food and stopped in my tracks, smiling seeing the love of my life cooking for me, his sleeves were rolled up and he seemed heavily focused on making the meal that smelled so good. Holy shit, this man was hot, he almost seemed unrealistic... it didn't make sense how a man could be that attractive and be so perfect. 

"Can I get you a drink?" Elijah questioned, glancing up and offering a handsome smile, I walked over and greeted the vampire with a kiss on the cheek. His hand rested firmly on my waist, pulling me in closer for a long and passionate kiss. I hummed against his lips, not wanting to back away even as my lungs begged for air. I suppose with his vampiric sense he could sense that regardless of how much I wanted to be in his embrace, never let go and stuck in this moment forever and ever as I don't know if I'd be able to have this kind of time with him again. 

"I've missed you." 

"I've missed you too." He whispered, resting a kiss on my forehead, taking a step back as he proceeded to pour some red wine and handed the class to me before he continued making the spaghetti. I watched him in a love-struck daze, imagining everything that this man could do to me and that I could do with him. 

"I love you," I whispered becoming flustered as he leaned in closer, kissing me once more before he proceeded to dish up the meal and plate everything at the candle-lit table. Elijah being the perfect man that he is, pulled out my chair, and helped me sit down before sitting across from me. 

"You know, as much as I love you, Elijah Mikaelson. I hate that you have lived for a thousand years and have so much experience and cook better than I ever could." He chuckled softly, reaching for my hand and kissed my palm with tender care, doing what he could to show his love and care for me. 

"Simply just means that I get to look after you more," Elijah whispered, smirking proudly as he seemed to have gotten the reaction he wanted from me, my cheeks tinted red and the smile I was trying to hide seemed inevitable. Throughout the dinner, Elijah asked many questions about what had been going on, the things in my life that occurred since we last had a proper date night. With some of the things that I would mention, Elijah seemed to already know, which honestly didn't surprise me at all as I honestly expected him to be watching over me when I wasn't aware. If it was anyone else I would find it disturbing but this is Elijah and I don't find his protectiveness worrisome... I find it endearing, to be honest. 

After dinner, Elijah and I curled up together on the couch, watching movies that I picked out to educate the great Elijah Mikaelson on movies from the late 20th century to now. Currently, we are watching one of my favourite thriller movies, Identity. I loved the psychological aspect, I loved staring at Elijah, watching for his reaction as the movie went on and the twists were revealed. We watched at least two other movies, the last one being another favourite of mine the 2002 Ghost Ship. 

"I thought you didn't like horror movies..." Elijah teased, resting a kiss on the side of my forehead, chuckling as I tutted and shook my head at his words. 

"I don't but this isn't the horror that I don't like. I don't like clowns, murderous dolls, completely gory gory things. I like the slasher-type ones. The ones that won't completely scare me for life." I explained with a grin, humming as Elijah nodded at my explanation, the vampire turned to face me and cupped my face in his hands with a growing smile that made my heart skip a beat and the world seem not as bad. 

"Stay tonight, please... I want to be with you and not have tonight end. Can I have this? Just you and I before the world continues on?" His words were loving, gentle, sweet and longing... he gave me everything that I desired and everything that I wanted. I nodded, reaching for the remote to switch off the TV, I straddled his lap his hands instantly finding my waist and his lips dominating mine.

It was easy enough for him, to him his next actions would simply just be a walk in the park, he easily stood up with my legs wrapping around his waist, one hand supporting my back and the other cupping my face as he easily used his vampiric speed to leave for the bedroom. Elijah rested me on the bed, getting on his knees, and admiring my form as he gently rested a kiss on my thigh and reached for my ankles. 

"Can I take your shoes off?" I nodded, watching as he did just that, taking delicate care in the way he was looking after me and treating me. I pushed myself forward, grasping his face once again, dropping onto the ground with him and began unbuttoning his shirt. Elijah tutted, grabbing my hands lightly, kissing my fingers and picking me back up to rest me amongst the blankets and pillows on his bed. 

"Let me look after you, let me take care of your every need-" I took Elijah's hands, leading them to the hem of my dress, nodding for him to follow through with his actions. I hummed softly as he hovered over me, staring at me with such devotion that I felt like a princess and that I was the only girl in the world. 

Elijah's POV

The next morning, I woke up before my beloved Y/N, she was strategically covered by the blankets, her intimate parts protected by the blankets, her warm skin pressed against mine, her breath hitting my chest as she stirred lightly and pressed herself closer against me. I kissed her forehead, admiring her beauty as she was in my arms in the purest form, she wasn't shielded by the make-up she perceives she needs to hide her flaws and I know that despite how often I tell her that I will always and forever love all her perfect imperfections. Being in this moment with her made me undeniably happy, being able to just be her and myself, hidden away from the world that persisted in keeping us apart... it was nice to have her in my arms and watching over her as she continued to sleep. 

I heard the mumble that escaped her lips, could feel her stretch in my arms, curling in closer to me with her gorgeous smile on her lips and that sleepy look in her eyes finding mine as she rested her chin on my bare chest and leant in closer to rest a kiss on my lips. 

"I love you, with all my heart, you are perfect my love and I am glad I have you with me in my arms." 

"I love you so much, Elijah, let's just stay here together, no dealing with other people's problems, please... just you and I today? No one else." Her words came out in a soft plea, I nodded, kissing her lips bringing her closer into my arms and whispering over and about just how much I loved her. 

#the originals #fluff #angst #elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson imagine #the mikaelsons #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson imagine #klaus mikaelson x y/n #klaus mikaelson #elijah mikaelson fluff #klaus mikaelson fluff #daniel gillies #joseph morgan #rebekah mikaelson #hayley marshall #marcel gerard #freya mikaelson #kol mikaelson #daniel gilles fluff #elijah mikealson x reader #elijah mikaelson fic #elijah mikaelson x y/n #elijah mikaelson x female reader #niklaus mikaelson #niklaus imagines #niklaus x reader #niklaus mikaelson x reader #niklaus mikaelson fluff

[didididraws]

my tablet is currently halfway across the country for repairs (my brother's the most tech-savvy in my family and asking him to take a look at it was cheaper than taking it to a shop) so i haven't been able to draw lately. i've made a bunch of traditional sketches in the meantime, but none of them are presentable enough to post here, so i decided to take a trip down memory lane and fill out one of foxorian's influence maps!

below the cut are the names of the artists featured here, as well as a little bit of director's commentary on how they've influenced me :]

yugo limbo (website, tumblr, twitter) - some time last year, i realized something profoundly unnerving: i actually... don't like the art in smile for me's original release all that much? that's not to say it's bad, just that there isn't a whole lot about it outside of maybe its architecture that stands out to me. which is REALLY WEIRD, considering i wrote a whole retrospective about how much this game means to me. art-wise, however, it was only after smile for me's release that yugo limbo's art evolved in a way that really resonated with me; i love how textured everything is, i love the way they simplify clothing folds and the way that skin wrinkles around the joints, i love their love for puppets; all of those things ended up worming their way into my art style and tastes one way or another, and i couldn't be happier!! it didn't feel right to leave smile for me out of the equation entirely, though, so i chose a piece that was both related to that game and that i felt reflected a lot of what i love about yugo's more recent art.

echobsilly (twitter, tumblr) - oh god, speaking of yugo limbo - god. i fucking love echo's art so much i have no idea how to even do it justice in writing. like many people i first found him through his smile for me/limbolane fanart and animations - and those are some of his best work, don't get me wrong, but i really wanted to include one of his original designs to make a point that he's just fuckin great at art in general. character design, facial expressions, body language, composition, LIGHTING... he makes it all just. so so so gorgeous. i always liked "painterly" art styles for lack of a better word, but i think his art is what first pushed me to embrace that more in my digital art. i also like how he talks about dr. habit like he's his dead wife. i'm very proud to call him a friend these days :]

japhers (tumblr, twitter, instagram) - i first found japhers' art in high school and he very quickly became a HUUUUUGE influence on my taste in character and costume design. one of the big reasons i never fully bought into the idea that men's fashion is inherently harder to design is bc so much of his art is already dedicated to exploring fashion Without the restrictions of a gender binary in place which is to say that he's really good at drawing buff dudes in frilly outfits. i also think he gave me more confidence to draw more intricate costumes without having to worry about super dainty and clean lineart, bc a lot of his art looks like it's kinda been carved/rendered out of sketches, and it is Gorgeous.

moe suppe (website, tumblr, cohost) - another artist i found in high school, albeit originally from a long-gone instagram account. his art is what kickstarted my desire to have some Roughness in my art, some Texture. it may not have stuck to my lineart, but it Definitely stuck to my rendering. it helped that i was going through a pretty big angel/demon phase at the time, which meant i was pretty immediately drawn in by his delightfully weird worldbuilding. i should probably read fear not now that it's an actual serial...

val wise (website, itch.io, twitter, instagram) - a more recent influence, but a pretty significant one nonetheless. i featured the cover of délicatesse here because it was the first thing from him that i had ever read, but in general his grasp on the human body really blows me away given how deceptively simple his style looks at first glance, especially his faces. the way fat and hair sits on her bodies, and how much it varies from character to character... it's beautiful without being So glamorous that it feels untouchable. his costume design is also great. i recommend his comics for low fantasy/ursula k. le guin fans who are Dying to see more fat characters in leading roles. i also just found out that i am of two hearts is free on itch.io, so i'll be treating myself to that over spring break.

partycoffin (tumblr, twitter) - if you have known me for any amount of time at all then this should not come as a surprise to you. i actually wasn't going to include partycoffin in this map at first, because while welcome home has inspired me in Many creative pursuits, i didn't think visual art was one of them? i definitely picked up some of clown's love for dramatic lighting and thinner lines with just a smidge of well-placed hatching subconsciously, though.

ryoko kui - probably the most recent artist featured here? anyways i have a confession to make: i have yet to read dungeon meshi. i just know that when i saw a post compiling a bunch of ryoko kui's sketches from her daydream hour series, i was so overwhelmed with this feeling of, like… "oh, yeah, these capture almost everything i love about women as flesh and blood people. when i draw women this is the kind of beauty that i want people to see in them." of course, ryoko kui is a great character designer in general, but something about her women specifically really speak to me. the earthier color palettes and rendering also do a lot to endear her art to me.

shuzo oshimi - specifically his art in blood on the tracks. something that really stood out to me in that series was whenever the shadows would get really intense, and you'd get these big blocks of black with just the faintest bit of hatching to soften out some of their edges. it was always very effective in creating this sense of claustrophobia. i really want to keep incorporating that in my more intense pieces!

person918x (tumblr, instagram) - i don't work with 3d art often and i don't see myself doing so any time soon, but the composition of person918x's pieces is something i take a lot of inspiration of. i also love his sequential art, as someone who does a lot of dream journaling it's sick to see the exact Vibe of a dream be put to (digital) canvas. i also firmly believe that he's one of the only people out there who knows what he's doing when it comes to using generative AI in art.

oops i made this list too long so now i have to put the last two artists in a new block.

10. meatgiri (twitter, instagram) - definitely the artist i've known about the longest out of this selection. i think i've been following her since…. oh god. since i was in middle school. way before she was meatgiri, even. i think her influence probably shows up the least in my art, but there are definitely some characteristics that stuck with me for a very long time (the lil block of black accompanied by one or two lines for shading on the neck, the looser lineart making it really easy to incorporate soft curves and sharp edges, the Eyes, etc etc.) i chose this drawing of her oc juniper bc i thought it was both reflective of her current art And a good embodiment of a lot of things i wanted to emulate from her art as a young'un.

11. dragan bibin (website, instagram) - specifically his 'deimos' series. much like with person918x, it's his compositions that really stand out to me the most, and you probably know by now that i'm a sucker for high contrast. i find it interesting though that he uses high contrast to obscure more than he does to highlight... helps a lot with giving the deimos paintings that air of Quiet Unease. another thing i want to incorporate in my horror-adjacent art! manmade environments gone wrong!

#not art #influence map #artists on tumblr #yugo limbo #echobsilly #japhers #moe suppe #val wise #partycoffin #ryoko kui #shuzo oshimi #person918x #meatgiri #dragan bibin

[magpie-blues]

I was listening to Sleep Token while writing this if it wasn’t obvious

Warnings: not so very healthy relationship dynamic, a lot of masochistic ideology between all three characters.

This is my take on Havik x Reiko x Rain based off the canon events in mk1, this takes place after everything that happened in the games story mode. Sorta of a character study if you really want. Titled it a line from a sleep token song for now bc idk what else to title it

I’m so sorry if there are spelling errors I looked it over as many times as I could I just rambled and slammed it on somewhere I’ll check again and again just to make sure lmao (can you tell I’m insecure)

Anyway SORRY HERE U GO BABS

You Taste Like New Flesh

He wasn’t raised to be a predator. But he was prey that fought back. Zeffeero wasn’t helpless. If anything, he considers himself the opposite. The former Empress raised him well to defend himself along with her own daughters.

A gesture she did not have to make, to take in a young boy deprived of his birth mother and a god of a father that wouldn’t even bless him enough with the presence. Yet, he learned not to care.

His sisters were kind. They always tried to reach him. But almost every time, Zeffeero would crawl away before they could get any closer. Deep down, he felt something burning in his chest, against the current of his cold heart. A ripple in a still lake. A desire for more than he had.

And he took the risk without thinking of consequence. And his mother no longer called him son. And his sisters no longer call him brother. He didn’t think she would die, it was not his intention. But it didn’t change what he had done. After all that was provided to him, in his efforts to obtain more, he just lost all he had in the process of trying.

Zeffeero refuses defeat. If he lost a family then he will get the power he damn well deserved for his selfish actions and sacrifice. Forever will he refuse that it was the wrong choice, or admit to wrong. And his eldest sister cast him out, no longer Prince, and no longer safe from the jaws of predators.

Reiko was brought up a predator. Never falling to become prey. Havik learned to parry those who prayed on him and learned to bite back. The hunted became the hunter. And the two intertwined, sickly devouring each other. Couldn’t get enough. Hurt and tore at flesh, never close enough. Between their bared fangs and sharp claws, nothing was gentle, love was violent. But they were violent creatures, and that’s how they loved.

Zeffeero didn’t love like a predator. Not initially. An elk in the clearing, grazing peacefully. No herd in sight. Left alone, abandoned, vulnerable. But no elk was without his antlers. Yet, it wouldn’t stop the wolves from coming.

Two wolves, bloodied with the fluids of each other. They left their pack, and found within where they wandered together, tearing each other apart, a warm body. Dangerous yet alone. Prey to devour.

And the wolves circled the elk. Their maws agape and their tongues lolling between cracked fangs.

And then, Zeffeero learned how to use his antlers. Instead of soft nuzzles and the loving embrace of a mother, he felt teeth sink into his flesh, nails gripping his chest, hands around his throat and rough wrestling between sheets. Soft touches limited. All he felt was stinging pain as the two wolves devoured him. And he grew fangs to bite back.

One would be sick to call it love. Zeffeero wanted to refuse it. It had hurt, his body scarred and mauled. But it felt nice. A contrast to what he was given. And it was something. Havik and Reiko had no intentions of releasing their elk.

The three became possessive. Just because it was rare doesn’t mean it never happened. A night alone where they hid in a rough abode. Planning their uprising. Among the bed they shared, all three heavily gasping for breath, and no longer had the strength to tear or bite. And it was dormant.

Havik had laid himself against Zeffeero’s left shoulder, his arm over his chest. A scarred face against his skin accompanied with faint rugged breaths. The mage had his head against Reiko’s lap, he felt usually bloody nails and rough hands run through his hair, not gripping, no pulling. A gentle touch, as if handling something delicate. No one spoke, there was no need. There will be no violence tonight. Their jaws ached, there will be no biting.

The mage felt his muscles loosen, a hand slipped up against the back of Havik’s head, a light pull to press their bodies impossibly closer and a slight arch in his back for the hand against his own scalp, almost yearning for more contact. This was the love he knew. It was gentle. He didn’t exactly miss it, but it was familiar. Confusing, even. That all mutually agreed they were tired of tearing, tired of being bitten. Ripping each other open had no front here right now. Later it might, down the lane the cycle will continue. But once every rare moment, by themselves, all were quiet. All was bliss.

Zeffeero let his eyes close, inhaling slowly. Havik was slowly becoming more slack against his chest. Reiko’s free hand moved and his fingertips traced the rough scarring and bone of a burned face, his hair down and over his eyes as he leaned over, watching his own hand traverse softly across the features of the two men. Eyes wide but expression unreadable. As if confused by his own actions but made no motion to try and stop himself. Observing outside of his body. All such unfamiliar territory. Gestures such as these were never commonly shared, if not at all for the soldier. Even as a boy, he was strictly disciplined, his only reward for success was keeping his life.

But there was no consequence in the moment. There was no fear of one of them or both of them leaving, because Reiko wouldn’t allow it. Just as Havik would cage him like a bird if he flew too far, or how Zeffeero would pull him under the current if he tried swimming the other direction. Reiko’s hands trailed down from the hydromancer’s face to the base of his neck and the span of his bare chest, his other hand against Havik rubbing against his back in the space between his shoulders, knowing which scars were inflicted by him on their bodies and running over them once more in a practiced motion, but not to reopen this time.

This bond was a rush of adrenaline or an influx of fatigue. Even if pain were afflicted, it was enjoyable when muscles tensed and relaxed after every bite and relishing in the sores after. It was usually Reiko and Havik that stayed behind with each other in a bed. Zeffeero would usually be the first to slip away and relish in his own sores on his own, but was never far. It was a matter of preference, but that didn’t mean when the mage did stay they took it for granted. Even when half asleep, Havik was over half way on top of Zeffeero, an arm wrapped under his arm and gripping from under his shoulder with his chest against the other. Reiko silently watched as he saw the scarred man drift and his head fell lower against Zeffeero’s shoulder and the crook of it, feeling a slight arch of his back into his hand, Reiko responding in kind, as his breaths slowed. When the soldier looked back at Zeffero on his lap, his eyes were closed, but only in light sleep. Reiko trailed his hand back up from the mage’s chest from where it came back to his face, running against the side of his face and lightly pulling his head closer, turning it to the side against him. And Zeffeero didn’t stop it, if anything he leaned into it, shifting ever so slightly as much as he could with Havik and his tight embrace against him.

Yes. He liked this. Reiko will keep them. And they’ll keep each other. No one could love them how they did.

#mortal kombat reiko #mortal kombat rain #mortal kombat havik #mk havik #mk rain #mk reiko #mk1 rain #mk1 havik #mk1 reiko #writing #mortal kombat 1 #mortal kombat #rain x havik #rain x reiko #rain x havik x reiko #reiko x rain x havik #ravik #havik x reiko #reiko #revik #their ship names are even hella similar #idk maybe tag more later im lazy #Listening to sleep token while writing them is an ethereal experience you should try it fr #I’m obsessed with them now they are so interesting think abt it #I can’t be the only one plz #we need more #rarepair

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

The Silver Dragon (32/?)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Word Count: 4559

Story Summary: Lady Arianwyn Targaryen, the Lady of Runestone, was seeded by her father, the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen, in an act of unbridled hatred, and borne of her mother, the late Lady Rhea Royce, as a desperate grasp at revenge.

Ignored by her father, and alone following the death of her mother, she is raised in King’s Landing alongside her cousin, Prince Aemond Targaryen. As they grow, the two find themselves indelibly bonded. But their lives are far from the fairy tales they read, and as tensions in the family rise, they find their paths may diverge.

Will they be pulled apart when the dragons dance?

Chapter Summary: After her visit with the King, Arianwyn returns to her husband.

Warnings: Adult content, Minors DNI.

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay with this chapter! Tuesday night, I picked up the second book in a quartet that I had started months ago... and now I'm almost done with book four. Don't ask me how it happened, it just did. Hopefully the content of this chapter makes up for the wait!

Series Masterlist

Taglist: @thelittleswanao3 @trap-house-homiecide @50svibes @literishdegree99 @dc-marvel-girl96 @henriettadreaming @multiple-fandoms-girl @gyuxmilk @somemydayy @kittykylax @whore-of-many-hot-men @slavicvvitch

(Please let me know if your tag isn't working, and I'll do my best to correct it! And if you would like to be added to the list, just shoot me an ask!)

The Sound of His Voice

As soon as she closed the bedchamber door behind her, Arianwyn exploded into racking sobs. Alicent immediately rose from her chair, and Ser Criston abandoned his post by the door to collect her from the floor.

“Oh, my dear girl,” Alicent said, rocking her gently in her embrace. Then, with a wave of her hand, she directed Criston to enter the bedchamber and ensure the King was not dead – that his passing was not the cause of Arianwyn’s current state of despair.

Criston emerged only moments later and shook his head.

The King was still alive.

Arianwyn had buried herself in the Queen’s embrace, her sobs showing no sign of wavering anytime soon. She was still angry at the King for all he had done. But more than that, she was angry at herself for being so saddened by the impending death of a man she proclaimed to hate.

Why should she mourn the man who had hurt her so badly, and wounded Aemond in his very soul?

Because, despite her anger, despite her inward shouts of protestation that she hated him, she did not. Not entirely

She loved Viserys. A part of her would always love him.

The sobs and cries came harder, seizing her, body and soul, so entirely that she could feel nothing else but the pain in her chest, the roiling in her stomach, and the stinging in her eyes.

“I know, darling,” Alicent whispered into her hair, stroking the silver curls with all the gentleness and love of a mother. “It is cruel that we must witness him this way, but we can take comfort in that it grants us the time we need to say goodbye.”

Goodbye.

Arianwyn had said so much more than ‘goodbye.’ She had laid bare all of her messy, complicated feelings for her uncle and refused him forgiveness, as was proper when one was on their deathbed.

Would the Seven ever forgive her for that slight?

Despite all the lessons and warnings from Septons and Maesters, Arianwyn had no desire to go back into the King’s bedchamber and apologize for her words. Nor to forgive him.

Forgiveness may be a virtue, but, like respect, it must be earned. Viserys had never done anything to deserve her forgiveness, and now he never would.

As her sobs subsided and her weeping calmed, all Arianwyn desired was to return to Aemond.

“I want to go home,” she whispered into the Queen’s shoulder.

Alicent pulled her even tighter to her chest, furiously rubbing circles on her back. “You are home, darling.”

Arianwyn shook her head, struggling to find the right words through her emotional haze. But there was only one word that came clearly: “Aemond.”

That, the Queen understood. She released her niece and summoned Ser Criston to help them both stand. After taking a moment to straighten both dresses, she took Arianwyn’s hands and helped her hold onto the Kingsguard’s arm.

Arianwyn heard Alicent give Ser Criston instructions, but they sounded distant and muffled. When they started moving, slowly, to accommodate her unsteady feet, she realized that he was taking her back to her apartments. To Aemond.  

She turned back to the Queen to offer something. Her thanks, her sympathy, or perhaps her apology. But no words left her lips.

Still, Alicent smiled sweetly and nodded. She was concerned, but she took no offense.

Barely managing to smile back, Arianwyn turned to the door that Ser Criston now held open and left the King’s chambers – including that accursed model of Valyria – behind.

As they stepped into the corridor, Ser Adrew Dutton joined them. The cheerful Valish guard had been her protector for the day, and for it, Arianwyn was glad. He had been by her side since she left Runestone as a babe and had never failed to cheer her.

She had fond memories of Ser Adrew abandoning his post by the door to join her in play when she was a small girl, helping her to build towers of blocks that she could never have managed on her own. On Dragonstone, he had taken it as his personal duty to cheer the entire tower. He was not always successful, but he had, on many occasions, made her smile when she was sure she never would again.

It could only have been a blessing from the Seven that he was there, rather than any of her other knights (who she also adored but were far more formal and serious than Adrew) to support her.

He only allowed Ser Criston to take her to the end of the corridor before he stopped and held his arm out for his Lady. “I will escort her from here. You may return to your duties, Ser.”

“The Queen tasked me with returning her to her chambers, Ser,” Criston replied, his tone strictly professional.

Arianwyn’s head had cleared enough for her to actually hear their words. Without speaking, she removed her hands from Ser Criston and gripped Ser Adrew’s arm tight. Both men knew her well enough to know what it meant.

Criston stood down, but looked into Arianwyn’s eyes. “Are you all right, Princess?”

Leaning into Ser Adrew’s side, she shook her head.

“Is there anything I can do to help you feel better?” he asked.

Again, Arianwyn shook her head.

A twinkle entered Ser Adrew’s honey-brown eyes, and he grinned crookedly as he spoke. “Perhaps Ser Criston could show us that ‘face’ that he declined to make for you earlier. Would that cheer you, Princess?”

The memory of Jaehaerys’ instructions came slowly, but when it did, the suggestion made the corners of Arianwyn’s mouth quirk up.

For Adrew, it was an emphatic ‘yes.’ He braced his arm, bringing the Princess’s gaze to the other knight. “Surely bringing a smile to her face would do more good than the redundancy of having two equally capable knights escorting her through the most secure castle in the realm?”

Ser Criston looked like it pained him not to argue, but he sighed and dropped his head. “Very well.”

When he looked back up, his lips were puckered tightly in mock anger, as if he had just tasted the most bitter of lemons. His usually serene brow was somehow both raised and scrunched, creating countless lines across his forehead and the bridge of his nose. Despite this, his eyes were as wide as he could make them. Though she imagined Jaehaerys had wanted them to project righteous anger, they were filled with only embarrassment and disbelief that he was actually doing this.

But Adrew had been right. At the ridiculous sight, Arianwyn barked with laughter. Just as she had been racked with sobs, a fit of childish giggling now overtook her entire body, forcing her to hold on to her guard’s arm to stay standing.

That the humiliating ordeal had cheered the Princess so thoroughly did tempter Criston’s embarrassment. Enough for him to smile when she looked back at him, though it only sent her into another fit of laughter.

“I will consider that my duty done,” he muttered, glaring daggers at Ser Adrew. “Good night, Princess. I hope you feel better on the morrow.”

After Ser Criston had withdrawn back into the King’s Chambers, Adrew leaned down to Arianwyn, who was finally calming from her hysteria. “Not for one moment did I actually believe he would do it.”

Again, Arianwyn laughed.

-

At the door to her and Aemond’s chambers, Arianwyn finally released Ser Adrew’s arm. Throughout their walk through the Holdfast, her mind kept slipping back to the King, what she had said to him, and what he had done or allowed to happen to her and her husband. But each time she frowned, Adrew gripped her tighter and said any number of ridiculous things to lighten her heart.

She was far too exhausted to thank him properly that night, but she resolved to make it up to him later. So, for now, she simply lifted herself on the tips of her toes to kiss his stubbly cheek. “Thank you, Ser.”

Adrew looked down on her with the fondness of a father. “It is not only my duty to protect you from physical harm, Aria,” he said. The pretense of protocol all but forgotten. He had protected her for 19 years; he had earned the right to use her name, just this once. “I will also protect you from those who would harm your heart.”

Overwhelmed by gratitude and affection, Arianwyn was again at a loss for words. So instead, she wrapped her arms around his broad, bronze-armored shoulders and embraced him.

Daemon had never been a father to her. For a long time, she thought Viserys was the closest she would ever have.

How foolish she had been to think that.

Half of her guards from Runestone had been with her nearly all her life.

Ser Adrew, who had played with her and made her smile.

Ser Christor Hardyng had always asked her countless questions when she returned from the library or her lessons. At first, she had found it irritating, as though she was being forced to attend another lesson. Over time, she realized that not only was he genuinely curious, having received little education in his own youth, but that teaching him what she had been taught had helped her to retain her knowledge. It meant that on the few occasions when Aemond could not recall an answer, she usually could.

Ser Ruban Woodhull was the most protective. He had always accompanied her to the Dragonpit, never fully trusting the great beasts to not harm her. When she rode through the city, he kept his horse near her window and glared at anyone – noble or lowborn – who looked at her too long. The first few times Aemond had snuck into her rooms, it had been Ruban who pinned him to the wall. Convincing him that the Prince meant no harm had been no easy task.

Ser Sterlan Coldwater, despite his gruff appearance, could always be counted on to serve as an accomplice when she and Aemond needed a mischievous hand. Whether it be keeping watch as they snuck into the kitchen for an extra serving of dessert, distracting the librarians so they could keep reading well after their curfew, or even sending a secret raven to Kiran earlier that day, he was always eager to volunteer to help.

Ser Simon Mullynn was always melancholy, but that was no bad thing. When she had been sad, sometimes what had helped the most was him simply sitting silently by her side, letting her know she was not alone. He even, on the occasions when she was genuinely despondent, held her hand. It was the most emotion she had ever seen from him, the most vulnerability he ever showed. Knowing that he trusted her so always made her feel better.

And dear Ser Warren Crayne. Ever steadfast, she could hardly remember a time when he was not by her side. From her first flight on Emrys to her banishment to Dragonstone, he was always there. Offering fatherly advice, providing support when she needed it most, and flashing a reassuring smile with a twinkle in his eyes.

No, Arianwyn did not have a father. She had six.

And she would never take them for granted again.

“Prince Aemond will be waiting for you,” Ser Adrew said, gently pulling away from the embrace. He smoothed the shoulders of her dress and straightened a few stray curls before reaching for the door. “I know this may be asking too much of two newlyweds, but please, try and get some rest.”

-

“Prince Aemond is already abed, Princess,” Kiran said, looking up from the fire with soot smudged on his cheeks.

He was sweeping out the hearth, the fire long extinguished. With his right arm perpetually in a sling – the limb had been stunted and weak from birth – he had to secure the dustpan against his knee. While Arianwyn felt the urge to offer her help, she soon realized it was unnecessary; he had the task well in hand.

When he saw the tired, sad look on Arianwyn’s face, his eyes went wide, and he stammered to try and offer what comfort he could from his place on the floor. “I believe he is still awake, though. Likely reading.”

“Thank you, Kiran,” she replied. “For all your help today, you’ve been wonderful.”

Blushing under the praise, he ducked his head back to the hearth. “Just trying to do my best for the Prince. To do what I can to thank him.”

That was a thread that Arianwyn was desperate to follow. But like her thanks to Ser Adrew, it would have to wait until she was not so tired, and every bone in her body was aching for her husband.

“Elsie, could you help me prepare for bed?” she asked the young maid sitting at the table, relacing her riding leathers. “I would do it myself, but there is every possibility that I may fall asleep on the dressing room floor. I will need your help to prevent that.”

The girl could barely suppress a smile. “Of course, Princess.”

Mercifully, Elsie was gentle and quiet, speaking only when necessary to keep Arianwyn awake. Otherwise, she only hummed faintly as she combed the knots from the Princess’ hair, rubbed meadowsweet oil into her skin, and clothed her in a soft cotton nightdress.

Arianwyn’s eyes were half-closed when she stood from the vanity and swayed slightly on her feet.

“Can you make it to the bed on your own,” Elsie asked, “or should I guide you?”

“I can make it,” Arianwyn assured, patting her hand on Elsie’s. “You and Kiran can retire for tonight. There will be plenty of time in the morning for relacing, and I have never seen the point of cleaning a hearth only to light a new fire the next day.”

Elsie laughed as she exited the dressing room. “There is a purpose for it, your Highness, but I will save that explanation for another day.”

Arianwyn wasted no time in pushing through the other door, the one that led straight to their bedchamber.

And there he was. She would never tire of that sight.

Aemond was reclining on the bed with a large book in his hands. He wore no bedclothes. He never did, for he ran too hot. Or at least that’s what he always said. But it went beyond that.

Everywhere he went, for nearly all his life, he felt as though he was wearing a costume. That of a dutiful son and Prince, a calculating warrior, and a fierce dragonrider. The only time he ever truly felt like himself was when he was alone or with Arianwyn.

Once she was taken from him, the only place he could escape his endless life of masks was alone in his bedchamber. Here, he would only be himself. No green clothing, no blades, no leathers, and no eyepatch. The one item he never took off was his sapphire, for it reminded him of Arianwyn, the only person to ever truly see him as he was.

He made no move to cover himself for her – why should he? She had seen all of him, inside and out. So, instead, he only smiled as she entered. “I thought for a moment you would not return until morning. Did you read them the entire book?”

The sound of his voice brought some life back into Arianwyn’s veins, but she still collapsed onto the bed beside him. She burrowed into the furs and blankets he had piled on her side, leaving only a sheet for him, and pressed into his chest.

“Just the one story,” she mumbled. “The Red Wolf.”

“Mmm,” Aemond frowned as he made a sarcastic sound. “Yes, I remember that one. And how did the children like it?”

Arianwyn wrapped her arm around his waist and squeezed, perhaps a little tighter than she needed to, but she was dissatisfied with his tone. “Jaehaera and Maelor had no complaints, and Jaehaerys and I had a wonderful discussion.”

“It must have been for it to keep you away for so long.”

As quickly as his presence had relaxed her, his words now made her tense once more.

Aemond felt it – her jaw clenched against his shoulder, her fingers curled slightly against his side, and her breath hitched. “Aria, what’s wrong?”

She didn’t want to say. But she had to.

“I went to see the King,” she whispered.

Now, Aemond tensed. He knew his father was in a poor state. His mother had asked him to go to his chambers to say goodbye. But he had nothing to say to that man. Or rather, he had too much to say.

But Arianwyn had gone. She had spoken to him. She had been stronger than Aemond to face the man who caused them so much suffering.

He wanted to know what happened. And he didn’t. He wanted to ask how the King was. And he didn’t. He wanted to know what she had said. And he didn’t.

He was afraid to know anything more. And he was afraid to remain in ignorance.

“Will you read to me?” Arianwyn asked softly, beginning to trace a Rune on his chest. In his current state of mind, he had no idea which.

Aemond looked down at her, confused by the timing and content of her request. “It is a book of military strategy – not to your interests.”

“I don’t care,” she declared as she pushed further into his chest and tightened her arms around him, wanting to be as close to him as possible. “I just want to hear your voice.”

Her presence and touch cooled him and slowed the frantic beating of his heart. He stared at his page, waiting for the text to come back into focus before he began. “A siege should always be considered the final measure, to be taken only when all other superior tactics have failed.”

Arianwyn closed her eyes, allowing all her senses to fade away while she focused entirely on the sound of his voice. Low but gentle. Quiet but firm. Every word, every syllable, was carefully pronounced. He could be reading absolute nonsense, and still, it would soothe her.

“Few armies have ever possessed the resources necessary to come out of a siege with a true victory. Even if the cloistered enemy is defeated, the victors often emerge having suffered not only a loss of life but of something far more dangerous: morale.”

His voice hitched once, when Arianwyn’s hand began moving against his chest again. She did not trace Runes, only nonsensical shapes that, he quickly noticed, began moving lower and lower as he read.

“Both knights and soldiers are creatures of war. They require action as much as food and blood as much as water. To force them to stand idle is cruelty. Should the siege last too long, not even the whirlwind of bloodshed that ends it will – Gods, Aria!”

Her hand had left his chest and made its way around his swiftly hardening member. She stroked him slowly, lazily, as if she was only doing so to keep her hand busy as she listened to him. It was entirely maddening.

“Keep reading, please,” she said with infuriating innocence.

“Aria…”

“Please?” she asked again as she finally opened her eyes to look at him. She continued her ministrations, running her thumb over his tip to collect the bead of precum gathered there, seemingly unmoved by his subsequent groan of desire.

But there was such desperation in her silver eyes that Aemond could not refuse her. “…not even the whirlwind of bloodshed that ends it will sate them, making the force harder to control and more likely to fight recklessly.”

“It is for this reason that a siege must be ended as swiftly as possible. History shows us that after ten days, the damage to company morale is ir-” he could not stifle his moan when Arianwyn sat up, momentarily releasing him, and removed her nightdress. Her nipples were already peaked, and he could spot glistening wetness between her folds as she climbed across the bed to straddle his thighs.

She stopped with her hand hovering over him. “Keep reading,” she insisted.

He knew she would not move unless he obeyed. This newfound confidence was thrilling. Just the sight of her above him had his cock twitching and hips rolling to try and find friction. But she pushed his hips back to the bed with both hands, holding him in place until he began again.

“…the damage to company morale is irreparable.” The moment he began to read, her hand resumed pumping his length, and it took all his strength to remain focused on the words. There was no restraint left to stop him from rutting into her hand and squeezing her between his legs to try and coax her closer to where he wanted her.

“However, there have been examples in history… Aria! …there have been examples wherein a siege upon a useless target has been successfully utilized as bait to draw out a more desirable… f-fuck, Aria! … a more desirable one.”

Arianwyn had inched herself forward and released his cock from her hand only to begin grinding it against her wet folds. In the back of his mind, Aemond realized what she was doing and wanted desperately to guide her. She had never taken him with so little preparation. But his vision had narrowed to see only the book before him and her breasts bouncing above it.

“Keep reading,” she commanded again. She could not look away from his face. His violet eye flicking incessantly between his book and her. His slackened jaw working desperately to form words despite each tantalizing brush of her skin against his. And his beautiful lips trembling as he struggled to speak.

But speak he did, each word sounding gruffer than the last, each syllable sending a thrill down her spine. She had read to him so often in the past, but this was the first time he had read to her – and it certainly would not be the last.

“A small target, such as a farming village or small port, can be targeted by a larger invading force. It is recommended to have – at a minimum – two men for each opponent within the target’s walls – Aria!” She was immensely glad she sent Kiran and Elsie away, for he screamed then, as she guided herself down onto his length.

He had always taken such care to prepare her to take him, as he was so large and she so inexperienced. But she had distracted him too well, and he had no time to bring her to release even once.

The stretching sensation was more intense than ever, even when he had taken her from behind. She lowered herself slowly, stopping when the pressure was too much to allow her time to adjust. But she never waited long.

Aemond could not form a single word until he was fully sheathed inside her. But, even then, only one escaped his lips, over and over: “Aria!”

She was too stunned by the feeling and sight of him below her to move. He had been pressing against the headboard so often and so hard that hair formed a tangled halo around his head, and his eye was glazed over as he looked up to her, a pleading in his brow that he could not express in his blissful state.

But she did not know what to do next. When Brynna had briefly, in her poppy-addled stupor, mentioned riding Aemond, the Queen had silenced her so quickly that Arianwyn did not have the chance to glean any details as to how.

All she could do was listen to the needs of her own body and hope they would satisfy him as well.

Unsure whether she could lift herself onto her knees so soon after the exertion of lowering herself so slowly, she settled for rolling her hips back and forth to start.

At her very first gyration, Aemond shouted and dropped the book, sending it tumbling to the floor. He reached for her, grabbing her by the shoulder and pulling her against him for a demanding kiss.

Gods, they had not kissed yet. The realization surged through her as their lips met, and he devoured her with teeth and tongue. She returned the same passion he showed her, moaning at the kiss and the pleasure their new position brought.

By pulling her against his chest while he was propped against the head of the bed, Aemond had inadvertently found an angle where the tip of his cock pressed perfectly against that spongy spot inside of her that brought stars to her eyes. Not only that, but her clit was also finding friction against him and the wispy white hair at the base of his cock.

She ground down on his hips, pressing harder and harder against that spot. Then, once she was sure of the angle, she cautiously lifted herself up and down, savoring the sensation of being filled over and over again, and the warm pounding against her most sensitive spot.

“Aria,” Aemond moaned against her lips, trying valiantly to help her in her ministrations, but his arms were too weakened by his pleasure. There was nothing in the world but the feeling of being inside her and the soft noises she made each time she fell back against his hips.

“Keep reading,” she pled, knowing that the sound of his voice was the only thing that could increase her pleasure.

He groaned, “I dropped the book, Aria.”

“Please,” she begged, gazing into his eye. “I need to hear you.”

“Iksā gevie,” he said, rolling his hips up to meet hers with each syllable. You are beautiful.

She gasped, falling forward until her forehead was pressed against his. Her hips never stopped as she clasped his jaw in one hand and supported herself with the other braced on the bed.

“Tolī, Aemond,” she whined. “Ivestragon tolī, kostilus.” More. Say more, please.

He obliged as he began fucking up into her in earnest, infinitely pleased when she returned his vigor from above. “Iksā vok. Iksā se qēlossās. Iksā se hūra. Iksā se vēzos.” You are perfect. You are the stars. You are the moon. You are the sun.

Her desperate whimpers turned into cries of euphoria as he continued, feeling her walls clamp down on him as they both neared their climax.

“Iksā tolvie run sȳz isse se udir.  Se Avy jorrāelan.  Avy jorrāelan lēda mirre bona iksan.  Avy jorrāelan, Aria.  Avy jorrāelan, Avy jorrāelan, Avy jorrāelan!” You are everything good in the world. And I love you. I love you with all that I am. I love you, Aria. I love you, I love you, I love you!

He came just breaths after her, hands seizing her hips to hold her steady as she shuddered against his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck as they both slid down the headboard to lie flat on the bed.

Arianwyn was so exhausted by the emotions of the day and her release that she could not even bring herself to roll off of Aemond’s chest nor pull any blankets over them. She just lay there, inhaling in his scent and listening to the sounds of his heaving breath.

But Aemond had finally returned to at least some of his senses, lifting her limp body off him so he could fetch a cloth to clean them both. As he worked, she stared at his face with bleary but reverent eyes.

“Avy jorrāelan, tolī, Aemond,” she said, the particulars of Valyrian pronunciation lost as she slipped closer and closer to sleep. “Avy jorrāelan sīr olvie bona kostan renigon ao isse ñuha ānogar.  Avy jorrāelan, se nyke jorrāelagon naejot gīmigon bona ao gīmigon ziry.” I love you, too, Aemond. I love you so much that I can feel you in my blood. I love you, and I need to know that you know it.

Though she had fallen well asleep by the time Aemond set the cloth aside and slipped back into the bed beside her, pulling her flush against his chest, he replied, nevertheless.

“Nyke gīmigon ziry, Aria.  Se issa skoros tepagon nyke ābrar,” he whispered as sleep came for him as well. I know it, Aria. And it is what gives me life.

Next Chapter

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