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saetoru · 10 months

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Tee 🥹 so RB Gojo always shows up to YNs house unexpectedly or wants her to come over. What if one day out of the blue, like 2 am she shows up at his house in tears due to stress. And for once he can be the caretaker and dependable one. And then she falls asleep in his arms arms and he gets to be the big spoon for once. I could see her whispering “you’re it for me too” while thinking he’s asleep.- dabitee anon

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。BEFORE & AFTER — GOJO SATORU. (rich boy! au)

contents. college au, rich boy! gojo, stressed reader :(, comfort, cheesy banter lol i tried ok, slightly based off of this drabble

notes. dabitee anon. babie u are my biggest rb! gojo inspo u always think of the sweetest lil moments between them sobsss i adore you sm

sometimes, gojo forgets you're not always put together. sometimes, you struggle to get assignments finished, and sometimes you don't wake up for work on the first alarm, and sometimes studying is too much to handle no matter how determined you are for an A.

"thinking about me this late, sweetheart?" he grins as soon as he picks up your call, laying back on one arm as he stares at the ceiling. he doesn't expect to see you call at two am, but you do—and when he hears the short, wet sniffle through the phone, he doesn't waste a moment to sit up. "sweetheart? you good?"

"toru can you let me in?" you ask quietly. gojo feels every crack in your voice pierce into his chest—it's rare for you to need him like this. he thinks he's always needed you more than you've needed him, truthfully. you've always opened doors after he's stormed out on his father, you've always laced your fingers after arguments with suguru, and you've always rubbed his back when he's hunched over toilets after one too many drinks.

when was the last time you've let yourself need gojo? he doesn't have the time to even try and remember, his feet carrying him over to open his front door quietly. and it's you—you with teary eyes and puffy cheeks, you with tired dark circles and wobbly lips. it's you, but it's not the you he knows, the one he's used to.

the one good thing about gojo satoru is he always knows how to talk—he speaks enough for two, knows how to fill the silence when you can't bring yourself to speak. his arms tug you into his chest before you can open your mouth to explain.

"did you drive all the way here with those watery eyes?" he hums, "wanted to see me that bad? it's dangerous driving like that, baby."

"didn't wanna be alone," you mumble, sniffling into his chest. his hands are big—they're good for rubbing slow circles into your back, the warmth of his palm seeping in through your shirt and pressing against your skin.

"i'd have come if you texted me," he hums, "'m always up, anyway. you know i was beating suguru's ass in mortal combat? he owes me a burger."

"you can afford one yourself, idiot," you huff, making him chuckle. something about the low rumble of his chest against your cheek makes the tears flow a little faster—not because you feel worse, but because it's safe enough that you can.

sometimes, you forget gojo isn't that spoiled and whiny handful you love to call him. sometimes, you're reminded that he's used to being alone, that carrying emotions enough for two is his forte. your cheek presses harder against his chest, like you could bury yourself inside of him like that, like hiding away in his ribcage is where you're safest from the rest of the world. maybe it is—maybe all you need is him to make it safe.

"who's got my baby crying the night before an 8 am class?" he asks softly, “i’ll punch ‘em.”

“what if i say you, will you punch yourself?”

“for you, always,” he nods seriously.

he knows how to ask these things like that: like it's not heavy, like you can make a light-hearted joke or two so that you're not drowning in your own vulnerability. sometimes, you forget that gojo is no stranger to hiding his own vulnerability, that he knows how to hide it under a playful grin and a cheeky laugh.

"that group assignment's due soon and no one's done anything yet but me, and i had to pick up an extra shift to cover for someone, and that quiz coming up is apparently super hard, and my electricity bill was high this month and i don't know why, and....and—"

"okay," he hums, "the electricity might've been me," he says with a quiet chuckle, "i always forget to turn the lights off. I'll handle it, yeah?"

"but—"

"it's not paying for you," he cuts you off, "it's paying you back. there's a difference. now c'mon. i make good hot chocolate."

"it's out of a packet," you sniffle, lips curled into a pout as his thumb swipes away at your tears. he traces the swell of your cheek before pinching it lightly, making you huff.

"hey," he gasps, "it's special because i put extra chocolate in it! it's my secret ingredient."

"it's not a secret if it's the main ingredient, toru," you mumble, letting his fingers thread with yours as he tugs you along to follow him.

"do you just live to correct me?" he whines, "can't i have one thing?"

and when he hears that soft, breathy little giggle from you, he smiles to himself, the ache of his chest calming just a little. you think gojo could always do that if he tried—pull a small laugh or two out of you even if the world was crumbling around you, keep your lips curved up even as everything goes wrong.

he's enough to forget about that damn project, and that extra shift, and that absurd quiz, and that distressing bill. maybe it's in the way he makes the whipped cream look like a crooked heart in your mug, or the way he burns his tongue as he takes a sip too fast, or the way he swings your arm as he drags you to his room, or the way he wriggles his brows at you as he takes his shirt off before bed, or the way he presses that delicate, sweet, careful little kiss to your forehead as you lay on his chest.

because he has to be enough, he thinks as he holds you, he has to be good enough for you that he outweighs every bad thing you'll ever deal with. he wonders if you know you're it for him, if you know that no one else could fill the spot you've wormed your way into unknowingly. he realizes it that night you hold him, the same night you didn't scold him for ruining your sleep, the same night he finds his way to you when it feels like every road is blocked.

and when the roads are blocked you find your way to him too. so he lays quietly under your cheek, feeling your fingers trace those slow hearts into his skin as he hears you murmur, "i think you're it for me too, toru."

his brows furrow—and then he realizes you must have heard him that night, just like he's hearing you now. a small part of him wants to laugh at the odds, at the way you both can't bring yourselves to say it when you're sure you'll hear each other. the other part of him thinks maybe you were always supposed to find each other, that you were always meant to stay awake and hear hushed words that are supposed to be secrets.

but then you tilt your head up, meeting his eyes, like you know he's awake. oh, he realizes, you've always known, haven't you?

"oh yeah?" he asks, "what if someone cuter and funnier comes along?"

you giggle—not one trace of stress or fear or defeat on your features, not with him there. "i met suguru and still chose you," you tease, making his gasp in disbelief.

"that's so mean," he whines, "i made you hot chocolate with extra chocolate! you can't say my best friend is cuter. and for the record, i'm way funnier than him."

"i'm kidding," you grin, pinching his cheek. "i love you. thank you," you add quietly.

"love you too," he kisses your temple. sometimes, gojo forgets what it was like before you—and he doesn't really want to remember.

atp rich boy! gojo is just his own character to me sjfjsjfj i’ve just created a whole new dude in my head with the same irritating blue eyes

#teepods.writings #drabbles.#rich boy! au #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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dduane · 8 months

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Do you have any recommendations on what to do when you can’t write?

I’ve been struggling to write for years, but telling stories is all I want to do. I have ideas and plots and characters all figured out! But actually getting the words onto paper? I just can’t do it. There’s a mental block or something getting in the way.

I want to write, I so badly do. I want to tell my stories! But no matter how hard I try, no matter how much I love the story, the words never work properly. I can day dream scenes up perfectly, but as soon as I’m near paper the words all vanish.

I guess what I’m actually asking is: how did you defeat the blank page?

Well, first of all, I can confidently tell you that your storytelling per se is working just fine. You just told me a perfectly cogent story right there, in writing. So that's good to know.

Now let me put your mind a little at rest by telling you something reassuring about the Writer's Brain:

It's not the sharpest knife in the block, if you take my meaning. It can be tricked. It can be fooled. It can be bamboozled into working when it doesn't want to... sometimes with embarrassing ease. (And this approach is, by and large, far preferable to sitting around over-analyzing one's interior life to figure out what went wrong with your developmental process somewhere in the dim lost past. Just hornswoggle the silly thing into working and then do the analysis later, if you can be bothered.)

Sometimes just changing something basic in the process the Writer's Brain is expecting is enough to make it lose the plot (so to speak...) and let you get on with work. And in your case I'd say, more or less immediately: Have you tried telling the story to yourself out loud, recording it, and then transcribing the recording?

Because this problem is a commonplace among storytellers. Sit them down in the pub and give them tea or a drink and start them going, and you'll get half an effortless hour of hilarious prose about What The Cat Did In The Middle Of The Night or When The Neighbors Were Fighting In The Street Again Yesterday. But show them blank paper, or an empty screen, and (now that the pressure to perform is suddenly in place) they freeze.

So try doing an end run around your writing brain. Borrow or otherwise procure a little recorder of some kind. (Or if you've got a smartphone, add a voice recording app to it.) Go get comfortable somewhere and get yourself into that daydream state, and then—making sure the recorder's on—start talking.

It doesn't have to be perfect unblemished prose. The pursuit of that comes later, after draft zero-minus-one. Just tell the story... or some of it. Or a fragment of it. Even a few paragraphs is a triumph, in a situation like this. You may, during the recording, have to talk yourself into the story stage by starting out talking about something else first. Let that happen.

Then when you're done recording, listen to it and transcribe it (typed or handwritten, as you please).

And maybe a day later, do this again. And a day or two later, once more. And so forth.

You're going to have to keep at this, because your Writer's Brain may start suspecting what you're up to, and try throwing spanners into the works. (Its favorite being "Oh, this isn't working, I may as well give up..." Pay no attention to that nagging little voice behind the curtain. Just keep doing what you're doing. Persistence is a superpower.)

The thing to keep reminding yourself, as you settle into this process, is that sooner or later the WB's resistance is going to flag, because you really do want to tell stories. It does too. What you have to teach it is that—to coin a phrase—resistance is useless. :)

Anyway: give this a try. You'll need to be doing this daily for at least a couple of months to find out whether it works or not. So let me know how it goes.

(BTW: once you've broken through the barrier, you may well find that dictation is a good routine way for you to generate your first draft. At that point—should you feel inclined to go a little higher-tech than recording and hand transcription—let me recommend Dragon Anywhere. This is a month-to-month subscription version of Dragon's flagship text to speech program—the one @petermorwood and I got Terry Pratchett to use when he started having difficulty typing. I use Anywhere a lot, on days when it's easier to write stretched out or lying down than it is sitting up. It transcribes what you say, and then you can just email it to yourself and cut-and-paste it into your writing document. Very handy.)

Hope this helps!

#writing #writing advice #the Writer's Brain #storytelling

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bleedingoptimism · 6 months

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Steve likes to watch youtube videos of a guy who restores old consoles. It soothing to him, it relaxes him. He likes watching how he restores them, fixes them, makes them look brand new.

He also enjoys watching him work for… other reasons. Weirdly, he thinks the guy is kind of hot, even if he never shows his face. He looks fit, with the way his shirts stretch over his chest and are loose on his tiny waist and he’s always wearing cool belts, black leather with studs or chains. He likes the way he moves around, manic and a little clumsy but incredibly precise when necessary.

Steve especially likes watching his hands, thick strong fingers, bony wrists, noticeable veins, and short clean nails that sometimes have chipped black polish adorning them.

He sometimes thinks about those hands when he's alone, but, well… no one needs to know about that.

🎮🤲💖

Eddie has a fairly popular youtube channel… And a huge crush on his next-door neighbor. He simply cannot decide if the dude is cutter than hot or vice-versa.

'He sure is nice, though,' he thinks, when one day he gets a large package of replacement parts that he’s struggling to get inside and the guy walks up to him, asks if he needs any help, and takes the heaviest box with no effort at all.

He says his name is Steve and then stares at Eddie's hand for a really long time when Eddie extends it for him to shake after getting the boxes inside his studio.

He hears Steve’s little 'oh', under his breath and then sees him blush prettily before mumbling ‘He needs to go, now.' And stumbling out of Eddie’s place.

Eddie chuckles to himself as he watches him leave, definitely cute AND hot in equal parts.

🎮🤲💖

A few weeks later Steve's mom tells him she needs help getting rid of some of his nonno's old things and he finds a LOT of cool stuff that look just like the ones Eddie restores on his channel.

He and Eddie have been slowly getting friendlier over these last couple of weeks and he’s been dying to have an excuse to talk to him more, so he takes the items home and then goes to Eddie's and very nervously tries to offer them to him but doesn't know how to explain he knows he's a youtuber without looking like a weirdo because Eddie’s never shown his face.

He stumbles and blushes a lot, barely making any sense and Eddie mistakenly thinks he's trying to ask him out and says,

"I'd love to go on a date with you," Smiling and hiding his dimples behind a lock of hair he's been playing with since the moment Steve started stuttering.

Steve completely forgets what he was trying to say or do and says he'll pick him out at 6.

The date is amazing, it feels like they are meant to be. They get along so well, talking, laughing, and already making fun of each other as if they’re old friends. And they are definitely attracted to one another. If the way Eddie practically tackles Steve with his rush to get his mouth on him when they get back, it’s any indication.

Steve is very on board with this and he enthusiastically kisses him back. They kiss desperately as he fumbles with his door handle to get it open. When he succeeds, he walks them backward into his place not wanting to stop kissing Eddie, but stumbles and falls flat on his ass.

When Eddie turns on the light he sees Steve sprawled on top of a bunch of boxes full of old technology. A lot of emotions go through his face, ‘he’s so expressive’ Steve thinks a little enamored, having still not realized how much trouble he’s in.

But Eddie looks confused, then shocked and scared, and finally, angry,

"Steve, what the fuck?"

‘Oh, shit…’

“I can explain!” he says immediately, standing up and walking toward Eddie as he backs away,

“I didn’t want to ask you out-” Steve starts but interrupts himself when Eddie huffs, turns, and starts walking towards his own apartment, “Shit, fuck! No- That’s not what I meant, Eddie! Wait-”

He turns again and glares at Steve but then his eyes go wide, “Steve,”

“Please, let me explain-”

“Steve-”

“I did- do! Want to ask you out! I like yo-”

“Steve!” Eddie screams and Steve stops, shocked, and finally focuses. Eddie is staring at him and he’s so pale even his freckles have changed color. But no, wait. He’s not staring at him, he’s staring at his arm and Steve looks down to see… a lot of blood.

“Oh,” he says faintly. He must have cut himself on a sharp edge when he fell. Too worried about Eddie, he hadn’t even noticed the pain, but now that he’s seeing the cut, it fucking hurts.

“Oh,” he says again, realizing he’s feeling kind of dizzy, ‘that's way too much blood,’ he thinks.

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie huffs, takes off his flannel shirt and wrapping it around Steve's arm, he pulls Steve by his other hand toward his van.

“Oh no, your cute shirt,” he mumbles and hears Eddie snort before he slams the door of the passenger seat and goes to the driver’s one.

They go to the hospital in silence. It's tense. Steve tries to explain himself but Eddie shuts him up harshly, tells him to save his energy.

Even so, when they get there, Eddie still holds him gently by his good arm as he helps him inside. He tells the nurse what happened because Steve is having a hard time focusing right now and then tells him he’ll wait outside for him.

He gets stitches and a tetanus shot just in case because he doesn't remember when was the last time he got one and gets weird looks when he refuses painkillers, but no arguments. He’s given a little juice box and is told he can't get up until he finishes it.

A few seconds after the nurse leaves, the door opens and Eddie walks in. Steve looks up and smiles at him, but Eddie doesn’t smile back and Steve shrinks a little on himself.

Eddie sits on the chair facing the overbed table Steve is perched on and sighs, moving his hand in little circles motioning like, ‘Well go on. Explain yourself’

Steve looks around the room and thinks about where to start. He can't look Eddie in the eye, so he stares at the little juice box in his hands. It's got a cartoon orange in the front. The drawing it’s awful and kind of scary.

Taking a deep breath, he starts, “I've been watching your videos for a long time now. I have- I am- I-”

He fumbles for what to say, even if this date is already ruined…it's not exactly a good first date topic, is it? How fucked up he’s inside.

In a flash, images of his father’s violence, running from home with his mom, going to live with his nonno, taking care of him as he slowly lost his mind with age while his mom worked her ass off to feed them, getting cheated on, losing his “friends” because he didn't want to bully freshmen, working as a babysitter and getting almost beat up to death by his kid’s stepbrother… he shakes his head and shrugs,

“I've been through some…stuff” is what he says in the end, looking up at Eddie. He doesn't look mad anymore, his expressive eyes look concerned. Steve worries about what was it Eddie saw in his own expression, but it surprises him how easily he read him. He’s usually so good at hiding it.

He breathes in again and keeps going, “Your videos, they calm me down when I've, sometimes I get anxious and-” he clears his throat, again, not wanting to tell Eddie about the panic attacks, the nightmares.

But it seems he doesn't have to, Eddie looks at him like he gets it.

It makes Steve want to keep talking, “Watching you work, seeing you fix things, leave them like new, no sca- marks, no problems, just working again and beautifully clean. It makes me feel better.”

Eddie gives him a small smile and Steve returns it, “I really like your hands…” he blurts out and then closes his mouth quickly, blushing furiously.

Eddie’s eyes go wide and then he smirks and stands up slowly walking up to him and taking Steve’s hands on his own, they both stare at their joined hands for a while, the touch feather-like and soft.

“You recognized me because of my hands?” Eddie asks him a little incredulous.

Steve giggles, “I saw the logo for your channel on your studio that day I helped you with the boxes,” he clarifies sheepishly.

Eddie blushes and opens his mouth in a silent ‘oh,’

Steve draws small circles on Eddie's knuckles with his thumbs, “When I came over today, I was just trying to offer you those stuff at my place, they were my grandfather's” he explains, “I didn’t know how to say I knew who you were without looking like a weirdo and I got nervous and you thought I was going to ask you out and I wasn’t planning to but you are so beautiful I-

Eddie kisses his cheek and Steve shuts up and looks at him surprised,

“I’m sorry I freaked out,” Eddie says, “I thought- I don’t know what I thought- I was just upset you didn’t actually like me.”

And Steve immediately answers, “I like you” a little too excitedly.

Eddie smiles at him so warmly it makes his heart rate pick up, “Good. I like you too.”

He blushes and looks down at their hands again unsure, “Do you really? Even tho I’m…”

“What?” Eddie asks, squeezing his hands reassuringly.

“Broken?” Steve whispers.

Eddie hums and drops his hands to hold his face, “Not broken, baby” he says lovingly and kisses the crease between Steve’s brows, the top of his eyelid, his nose, and the corner of his mouth. Then hugs him and Steve buries his face on Eddie's neck, and breathes him in.

A minute goes by or an hour, Steve is not sure, and Eddie leans back enough to kiss him again softly and whispers, “Some things don't need to be fixed Steve, just held.”

𝒻𝒾𝓃

coffee? a hug? ☕🥐💕

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #i wrote something #modern au #trying out this new read more feature i hope it works!#im kidding #i do hope people click for the rest tho this goes places

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nonranghaes · 26 days

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it's weird that you don't call out to jun when he comes into your apartment. jun knows that you know he was coming over at some point to spend time with you, and usually you greet him in some way when you hear the apartment door unlock. he's a little earlier than he planned, but you told him to 'come over whenever' and now he's a little worried that you didn't mean it. he quietly slips into the pair of slippers that stays here at your place, and makes his way further into your apartment to set down the bag of groceries he brought on your kitchen counter. your bedroom door is open, but the tiny room you use as a home office is open just a sliver.

he makes his way over, leaning in to listen for a moment... only to hear your voice. there's a little strain to it as you struggle through a sentence, and it clicks all at once: you're speaking chinese. albeit not very well (it's clear to jun that this is one-hundred percent new to you), but you're still trying. your pronunciation is a bit clumsy, but he can hear the way you try to use the right tone with what you're saying...

when did you start learning this much? jun had taught you little things in the past--the absolute basics, really, plus a few other little phrases that veer into his own cheesy need to hear you say sweet things--but this...? he steps back from the door. why hadn't you told him? you could have told him and he'd happily help you learn. but he trusts you: you must have your reasons to keep this a secret, so he won't push. he steps away, deciding to busy himself with getting ingredients put away--or set up for the two of you to cook together, in case you're hungry now.

then he knocks a cup into the sink, and immediately he hears you coming out of your office. relief crosses your face when you see it's just jun, and you lean against the open doorway.

"i didn't know you were here." you pause, and then he sees you get hit with realization. "... how long were you here?"

"i just got here," he says. it's technically the truth, isn't it? he's only been here for a few minutes. "were you working?"

you nod. "yeah. just had to answer a phone call," you lie to him, but he just nods and acts like he doesn't know that. you come up to his side, wrapping an arm around him. "is this for lunch?"

he leans over to you and presses a kiss against your cheek. "are you hungry?"

"mhm," you just snuggle in for a moment, enjoying his presence. "you should teach me more recipes you learned from your mom sometime."

jun finds himself smiling already. was that what this all was...? an attempt for you to understand him better? to show that you care for him so much that you want to know his culture, too? "i'd love to," he says softly, and wraps an arm around you to tug you closer to his side. "only if you teach me things you learned from your family, too."

then he'll make more efforts to understand you and your background, too. just to show you that he loves you as much as you love him.

#nonranghaes.thoughts #nonranghaes.svt #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt imagine #svt x you #jun x reader #wen junhui x reader #junhui x reader #jun fluff #junhui fluff #also im just gonna ramble for a second. if i ever get to the point where i feel more comfortable speaking..... god i wish id have a jun #to help me learn the language better. its been interesting to learn so far!!#i def need to start taking notes tho bc guess who cannot count <3 #anyway i fucking love learning languages. inject tht shit directly into my veins.#yknow the post with all the pills w associated abilities??? id be downing the one that lets u speak all languages like. immediately

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meaningofaeons · 1 year

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-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ emotionally unavailable p.2

⊹ character(s) - gepard landau, jing yuan, sampo koski ⊹ word count - 5.6k ⊹ notes - gn!reader (gepard, sampo), fem!reader (jing yuan, reader is referred to as 'lady'), emotionally constipated/stoic reader (but you're warming up a bit ;), confessions, fluff, love, mushy stuff! ⊹ part 1 here!

sorry this took so long !! (=´ᆺ｀=) really thought I'd have it out sooner, but I wanted to make sure it was planned and edited this time. hope you all like! and please do point out any mistakes, I know sometimes I mix up the gn pronouns with she/her so lemme know if there's any of that （ฅ＾・ﻌ・＾）ฅ

⊹ Gepard Landau

Ever since you and Gepard spoke that day, Serval had been seeing more of you around the workshop.

Rather than lounging as per your nick-namesake, however, you were frequently speaking with Gepard when he was around.

That, or you were at her desk asking when he'd be around.

It was a far cry from your former indifference for sure.

Sure, you weren't overly enthused or anything at the prospect of seeing him, but...

Serval could definitely see the gleam in your eye when you questioned about her brother.

You weren't alone in your affection, either.

The eldest Landau hadn't failed to notice the consistently at which Gepard asked about you, too.

Even though there were reports of Fragmentum corrosion being on the rise and more monsters to keep at bay, things that usually stressed the Captain out, he was in shockingly high spirits

It seems your presence was beneficial to his stress and mood.

Over time, you mellowed out a bit from your usual stoicism as well

You were more inclined to joke and be more open with Serval and Gepard both, though you still retained a bit of your standoffish nature.

This didn't mean you magically became an extrovert—Aeons knows you still treated other people just as coldly.

But to the Landaus at least, things were turning up.

You weren't running into their arms with warm salutations ready for an embrace, but at the very least, you spoke more.

Not to mention, you'd taken on a new hobby—teasing poor Gepard.

It wasn't really your fault, in your defense. He was just too easy, and his blushing cheeks were admittedly cute amusing to see.

Gepard, in spite of your embarrassing new pastime, would often count the hours, minutes, down to the seconds until he could head to the workshop and see if you were around

On the days you weren't (increasingly rare nowadays), it was quite obvious how he'd deflate. But he'd still wait around a little while longer for you

And when you were there? He'd light up immediately.

It's as if you could see the tail wagging behind him—he's like a giant golden retriever.

Eventually, it got to the point where he figured it was about time he confessed how he actually felt about you.

Serval, of course, encouraged and offered to wing-woman for him as she had done before, but he adamantly refused

As much as Gepard appreciated his sister, he wanted to do this himself.

He would find himself practicing singing, drawing, anything artistic he could do to show his affections for you.

It was an earnest, honest-to-good effort, but let's be honest—he's not the best at most artistic pursuits.

Eventually, he settled for a poem (the farthest he could get artistically without completely flubbing it) and a bouquet of the flowers that brought you two together in the first place—Ball Peonies.

He put it off for a few days out of nervousness.

Okay, no, a few weeks. Let's not kid ourselves, he had to buy a few bouquets since they kept withering (thankfully, that Silvermane Guard Captain salary is good!)

Finally, the day came.

Gepard shifted from one foot to the other, a habit of his when anxious. In battle, one always had to be on their toes. Though the matter ahead of him was far from a fight to the death on the front lines, it was a struggle nonetheless.

The brain's fight-or-flight response unfortunately didn't care to discriminate between a war with monsters and a nerve-wracking confession.

Maybe you weren't coming today.

No, no. Serval mentioned you had to swing by. You had an appliance giving you trouble, and she'd fixed it up and prepared it for delivery today.

His sister provided this opportunity for him. He couldn't back down!

However, as soon as sky blue eyes spotted your approaching figure, Gepard had to physically grab hold of his own arm to ground himself and prevent himself from running away.

He settled his anxiety as much as he could by hiding the flowers behind his back instead.

"Gepard?"

No going back now! You'd seen him!

His brain was in overdrive, and he found himself fending off trembles, face already going red. Aeons, he hadn't even gotten a single word out yet!

"That's me."

Okay, good, he'd gotten the first words out no problem.

"I thought you had patrol today. It's good to see you."

"G-Good to see you too!"

And there it was. A stutter, followed by a voice crack on the last word. The poor blonde man could've easily sank into a hole and withered away at that moment, but you only raised a brow, oblivious to his internal misery.

"Well, are you coming inside? I need to pick something up, and then I'm off. Sorry I can't stick around, especially since you're off duty for once."

"Y-Yeah, I'm coming. And it's okay!"

Gepard was far too caught up in his own gut-wrenching anxiety to notice the way you had rushed through your normally-casual sentences. Though your tone was the same, the slightest, most imperceptible tremble flitted after your every word.

When you entered, Serval was nowhere to be seen. You assumed she was in the back, and thus went to pop in and check, but as you did that, said woman snuck past and headed for the door, mouthing at her brother.

'Don't! Back! Down! Now!'

He swallowed thickly as she vanished, ducking outside to hide and await Gepard's long-overdue confession to you.

"Hm. Doesn't seem she's here. Maybe an errand..."

"Y/N!"

You raised a brow, leaning on the counter. "I'm right here, Gepard. No need to shout."

"Right! Right... Um! I just wanted to... I just... Err..."

"You alright? You're burning up, and I haven't even prodded at your singing or drawing today."

Those words only made the flare-up of his cheeks worse.

"I'm fine!" His voice had only increased in volume, and you winced. Your eyes flitted to the clock, and you sighed, taking a deep, shaky inhale.

Shift starts in a few minutes. I can always get the heater later, but... this is now or never.

Before Gepard could continue his train of thought, you interrupted, pulling out a small tin canister and slid it towards him on the counter. His ramblings cut short, he could do little more than stare down at it, calming down amidst his confusion.

"...This is?"

"Well..." you trailed off, glancing away and crossing your arms. Though Gepard was sure your expression was the same, pensive and uninterested, you adamantly hid it from him. "I didn't really know what else to get you."

...Huh?

"I could've gone for flowers, sure, but I guess they didn't seem very appropriate for you. You'd have no use for them."

Oh, but he would place them in the nicest vase money could buy, and stare at them for hours on end every day, thinking about the fact that it was you who brought them to him. No use? What nonsense.

"Then I thought chocolates, or maybe some other sweet, but I didn't know if you liked that sort of thing. I'm sorry I never asked."

What did you have to be sorry for? He'd eat anything you offered up, even if it were burnt or poisoned. And he'd accept it with the biggest smile, content in the fact that you had carefully worked on it for him.

"So, well, this seemed the most practical. Armor polish... for you. Keep up that 'Captain of the Silvermane Guards'-grade armor, and everything..."

Were he any less trained as a soldier for battle, Gepard could've shed a tear. Closed off, stoic, standoffish, yet you still remained the most considerate person he'd ever met.

He took the canister in one hand delicately, as if it were the most precious thing he'd ever touched, and then glanced up at you. A million words of gratitude and devotion were ready to spill from his lips all at once, but his brain fizzed out and he could manage but one.

"Why?"

You sighed deeply, the grip you had on your arm tightening.

"...ike you."

"...Huh?"

"I..." your voice increased in octave, but it fizzled out again at the end. "...eally... you."

"Y/N—"

"I really like you. There." With how loud you projected the words, anyone would assume you were confident and calm with their delivery, but your voice again contained the slightest timbre of anxiety beneath it. Still, with those firm eyes, you turned to look at him, confessing the thing he had taken weeks to even consider bringing up.

Perhaps, though, it had taken you weeks as well.

Gepard was silent, stunned into complete rigidity at your words. You knew he could be awkward, but the reaction he held only furthered your uncertainty, and you eventually turned to leave, somewhat dejected.

Before you could take even one step, though, a gloved hand took your arm as gently as possible, and Gepard was red and sweltering as if he'd just ran a marathon in full uniform to catch you.

"Wait! Wait!"

"Gepard, it's fine if you don't—"

"No, no! I like you, too!" Your confidence gave the Captain the boost he needed to finally blurt out the words, shoving the Ball Peony bouquet towards you. "I swear! That's, um... That's why Serval had me come by today."

It was your turn to be shocked—so shocked, in fact, that you didn't even bother to curse Serval out for setting you up like this.

Still, as Gepard slid his hand down to clasp your own, you couldn't bring yourself to feel too much enmity towards her.

"Um... If it's okay, do you want to go to dinner tomorrow night, then...?"

You tried to hide your delight as best you could.

"...Tomorrow night sounds nice."

Gepard, however, could not hide his.

⊹ Jing Yuan

It only took that one night of trickery, that one moment of Jing Yuan catching you hook, line, and sinker, for a routine to develop.

The General immediately took advantage of your acceptance and took you to the nicest restaurant the Xianzhou Luofu had to offer (and the most expensive, of course, much to your dismay).

As promised, he got his paperwork done on time.

But it wasn't more than a few days before he began slipping again.

Napping around his office, playing chess with Yanqing instead of working...

As soon as you got on his case again, you could see in the way his brow quirked that his mind was quick at work to justify himself.

Then, a wry smile had appeared—one you were both begrudgingly fond of and vehemently annoyed by.

"Well, Lady Y/N, go out to dinner with me again tonight and I promise to have my work done."

And so developed an unlikely routine—as long as you went to dinner after working hours, Jing Yuan would have his paperwork complete.

Of course, there were a few times when he slipped.

But whenever this happened, you vanished from the Seat of Divine Foresight before he could even awaken, and he found that the absence of your presence was punishment enough.

So now, him skimping his work was a rare occurrence. Even Yanqing was surprised.

"General, you've been a lot... busier, lately."

"Only as busy as I'm meant to be, my boy."

Golden eyes were immensely suspicious, and those same eyes watched the General in your presence carefully.

"...It's Lady Y/N, isn't it?"

Jing Yuan choked.

Even still, you'd be lying if you said you weren't enjoying the routine as well.

It was a win on both counts—you get a nice, expensive meal, and Jing Yuan also stops skipping important work!

Surely, it wasn't also a win to spend more time with the General. Surely...

He was still as cheeky as ever, though, especially now that you'd caved to his whims and spent more time with him.

Sometimes, he'd try to pass you alcohol and convince you to drink with him.

Of course, this was with the sly intention of getting you to open up and drop that stoic façade.

It never really worked.

Either you refused, citing work, didn't get drunk enough to become loose-lipped...

Or, in one instance, actually drank the General of the Luofu himself under the table.

Needless to say, you never did that again. Not only did you gain nothing but a raging hangover, the people of the Luofu who were present in the bar wouldn't shut up about it for weeks.

The rumors were even more ridiculous!

Though, you did gain something to tease Jing Yuan about, for once.

Dinner eventually turned into dinner along with a small walk together afterwards.

It took a lot of convincing and taking on extra work for Jing Yuan to get you to agree to the latter.

It was nice, though. Not only were you out in the fresh air, but you were free of the somewhat guilty burden of having the General paying for all your meals out of pocket.

Still, one day... he seemed different.

"General—"

"Lady Y/N—"

You both paused mid-sentence, cutting each other off. However, it was you who ultimately remained silent, gesturing for the man to continue.

Jing Yuan seemed... uncharacteristically nervous today. Was nervous even the right word for it? Perhaps it was, seeing as how his one visible eye darted back and forth.

Strange.

He cleared his throat loudly, reaching out a hand.

"I was only going to ask if you were ready to head to our usual dinner arrangement. I've made reservations."

Well, that was even more strange.

"General, you've never asked me before. You've just dragged me along. Are you feeling well?"

Despite your concern, you still accepted his hand just as naturally as always, allowing him to move your hand into position so that you were holding onto his arm. The first time he'd done this, you had recoiled, embarrassed at the proximity, but now, it was just as routine as your near-nightly dinner dates.

Dates? Were they dates? You pushed the thought as far away from your head as you could to avoid any red flush potentially springing to your cheeks.

"Of course I'm well." Jing Yuan only chuckled mildly, not meeting your gaze. "Shall we be off?"

You eyed him, but nodded slowly. On the way to the reserved seats, you began cautiously.

"...If you slacked off on your work and are trying to hide it from me..."

Honey-gold eyes met yours with a slight measure of surprise, and before you knew it, the General was laughing. A low, rumbling, and comforting sound that emanated from deep within his chest. It caused the dam you held to keep your cheeks from going red to burst.

"W-What did I say?!"

"Nothing, my dear... Absolutely nothing," he chuckled, wiping an imaginary tear. As much as the sight irked you, it also caused you to breathe a small sigh of relief.

He didn't seem as anxious any more.

"I was just a bit surprised."

"Well, I wouldn't be..." you grumbled. "Wouldn't be the first time."

Jing Yuan's smile turned crooked. "Come, now. I think I've been doing rather well at holding up my end of the deal. How long has it been since I last shirked my duties?"

"One week."

Your unimpressed response had his laugh turn nervous, but not in the same way as before. He glanced away at your dagger-like stare, murmuring some sort of excuse before giving up at the squeeze you gave his arm.

"I would say I've been doing well overall, though."

You acquiesced with a sigh. "That you have, General. Better than before, at least."

"Well, that is high praise. Coming from my poker-faced Lady Y/N, I'd have thought it'd take ten decades of work to satisfy your standards and achieve a compliment such as that."

You only grumbled in response, eliciting another laugh from your General.

So caught up in the conversation were you that it took you being seated in a private room to realize where you were.

"...This is where you first took me."

"Correct," Jing Yuan smiled, a hint of unease in his features as he fiddled with something beneath the table. "I thought it'd be appropriate."

"For...?" you trailed off, trying to recall if there was anything special happening today. "Did I forget a holiday?"

"No, no. I'll tell you later, Lady Y/N."

"Very well, General," you sighed, making your choice and setting your menu down. Surprisingly, a comforting silence filled the air until the attendant came to collect both of your orders, and even after that. Minutes passed, and the silence was now... less comforting.

Something was definitely off. By now, the General would be talking your ear off about something—whether informing you about his latest trickery with his and Yanqing's games of chess or teasing you for your uptightness in the latest meeting, he'd have something to say.

But Jing Yuan just sat there, smiling down at his hands, still fiddling. You eventually had enough, clearing your throat.

"...So, are you going to tell me why today is significant for this restaurant?"

The man jumped—did he jump? Did the famous General Jing Yuan just jump over a mere question from his advisor?—and paused, clearing his throat again. You had noticed he was doing that quite a lot this evening.

"Well, I should get it out of the way, shouldn't I? No use dwelling on it any longer, haha..." Finally, he extracted the item he had been messing with, sliding a small velvet box across to your folded hands. "Here you go, Lady Y/N."

"And just what is this?" you eyed it, then raised a brow. A small trinket from one of his expeditions, perhaps? But you weren't much of a collector or anything...

"Just open it."

"Very well." You paused momentarily, but slowly pulled the box towards yourself, pushing up the little hinged lid. In an instant, your hands clapped it back shut, your face turning thousands of shades of red.

Jing Yuan, while still anxious, found himself chuckling as he fiddled with the hem of his sleeve.

"General," you whispered harshly. "Is this some kind of joke?!"

"Well, I'd hope not, considering that little trinket cost me a fair chunk of my prior paycheck."

"General Jing Yuan, I'm being serious!" You were sweating bullets, trying to reign in your flustered state. "Explain yourself!"

The man cleared his throat again, and finally began to lay out his reasoning.

"You see, Yanqing was just getting so terribly tired of hearing me talk about you. In his words, 'You need to do something about it before I go insane, General.'" Jing Yuan was rambling. "So I went to a local jeweler and tried to find something nice, but none of them quite suit you the way I wanted. Then, I figured I should commission something, and—"

His rambling speech had given you time to process just slightly, just enough to cut him off and pose your own question.

"Are you proposing to me?"

Jing Yuan coughed.

"Well, I figured since we'd been to dinner together so many times—"

"—as General and his advisor!—"

"—but if you'd like to start with the label of dating, I'm perfectly fine with slowing it down to that. We do have nothing but time, after all."

You were about to shout some more, say anything, but the sight of Jing Yuan's somewhat flushed cheeks had you reeling, stunned into silence.

He was serious.

The General glanced up at you through his bangs.

"You don't have to give me your answer right now. But I'd be delighted to see you at least try the ring." And oh, when he beseeched you with those pleading eyes, how could you even think to say no?

You hesitantly opened the box, unable to fathom what was happening. In your state, you hadn't noticed Jing Yuan move to your side, taking your hand gently in one hand and the ring in his other.

"Allow me."

Tenderly, carefully, Jing Yuan slid the ring onto you. It fit like a glove, and you couldn't even think to wonder how he got your ring size down to a T. He gazed into your eyes with such adoration that you felt your brain going to mush.

"...It's lovely," you stammered. The General smiled.

"You're lovely."

Surely, the situation was about to escalate into something more.

An embrace? Possibly... a kiss? Just as you felt the very distinct possibility of your eyes fluttering shut in anticipation, the door to your private dining hall was slid open.

"I have the orders for one General Jing Yuan and one Lady Y/N—"

The waitress stopped short, eyes wide at the proximity between you and the General. Then, her eyes fell to your hands, the ring—

"Wait—"

"Ma'am, it's not—"

"Please forgive me! I'll leave you be!"

Without giving either of you even a moment to explain, the now beet-faced woman dashed away, shocked out of her poor mind. You exhaled shakily, and then whipped your head around as Jing Yuan laughed boisterously.

"General! The rumors!"

"Oh, they always spread some rumor or another. It's happened since we first started this little routine, and it won't cease now. But if you aren't interested, I will always happily have them dispelled."

You huffed another sigh, glancing away.

"...Who said anything about me not being interested?"

It was Jing Yuan's turn to be stunned, but he recovered annoyingly quick, immediately wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into him.

"Really now? Well, I'll take that as your acceptance of my proposal. I will be stuck to your side from here on out."

"I'm accepting the dating proposal, not marriage, General!"

"For now."

"General!"

⊹ Sampo Koski

The man who formerly avoided Natasha's clinic like the plague out of intense fear for Wildfire's motherly leader now found himself frequenting the joint more than the Fight Club.

Who would've guessed?

Well, you might've.

Ever since your run-in with the infamous Sampo Koski only a few weeks prior, it seems he'd made it his personal mission to only appear when you were working.

Of course, you only really worked night shifts, and Sampo was quite the night owl himself, but who's counting?

He still annoyed you to Hell and back.

The only edge you really had over him was when Natasha was in, helping you with the patients.

Sampo would stare at you from outside the window like a puppy left out in the rain—you could practically hear the whines and see the sad droop of metaphorical ears.

Natasha always knew he was by, and she'd always tease you about it, so in a way, you were both now avoiding her.

"Y/N... Your ol' buddy Sampo Koski got himself a booboo! Won't you fix me up?"

"Get lost."

"But it really hurts!"

"That's a flesh wound. Here's some ointment. Scram."

"Ouch! You're as cold as ever... Your words sting more than this egregious injury..."

A small, tiny voice inside your head was always thankful that he was never really as injured as he exaggerated, but he still found ways to negate even that tiny bit of mercy you held for him with his antics.

Usually, he'd just swing by to hop around you and ask for attention.

Really, he didn't want anything more than a few words from you or a few minutes of your time, but you didn't have much of either to spare with your work.

To catch your eye, he'd try to ham up his pain, but it never really worked.

A bandage there, an ointment there.

Sampo never failed to notice how you would always entertain those requests at least, giving him what he needed to care for himself.

Though he did long for your tender loving care again. Even if it meant being on the receiving end of your unimpressed stares.

Then, there was the time he asked for you to kiss his wound better.

That earned him a harsh clobbering to the head.

While you hated the distraction Sampo brought while you were actively trying to cure real patients, he wasn't all bad if he came at a good time.

Not that you'd ever admit it, though.

You'd given him enough ground with your little "For me" comment last time, and he'd never let you forget it as long as you lived.

When you were packing up your supplies and getting ready to trade shifts with Natasha, it was kind of... nice to see him around.

He'd bring you small doohickeys and trinkets from his latest scams expeditions, or talk your ear off about his adventures.

Scratch the dog analogy.

Sampo was more like a crow, squawking your ear off and delivering small, seemingly-insignificant, shiny treasures.

Somehow, his unending positivity and boisterous attitude was a nice contrast to the dreary place you were stuck in.

You were begrudgingly—with harsh emphasis on that word—becoming fond of Sampo Koski.

You weren't sure if this was a good thing.

"Y/N!"

You heaved a sigh, stretching out your weary limbs as Sampo came barreling into the clinic, thankfully uninjured. You kind of wanted to hit yourself for thinking of that first, rather than how obnoxiously loud he was being, but you digressed.

It seemed as though ever since your little run-in with him while he was badly wounded, he had taken your demand to stay out of harm's way to heart. Now, he rarely got anything more than a small bleeding cut or a sizeable bruise.

"How many times do I have to remind you to be quiet in the presence of my other patients? They're sleeping, Koski."

"Some things never change! Just like your painfully frostbite-y words, Y/N~"

You only grunted at that, collecting your tools and cleaning off your table. You always did like to leave Natasha with a neat workspace when she arrived.

"Sooo, I was thinking..."

"Sampo Koski, thinking? The Overworld must be crashing down on our heads as we speak."

"Yeesh, uncalled for..." the man grumbled, his energy bouncing back fast, though. "Let me take you somewhere nice. Think of it as a reward for working so hard and helping me out so many times, yeah?"

You raised a brow at that, and the conman clasped his hands together, that familiar grin sneaking onto his lips.

"After all, Sampo Koski always repays his debts! Never leaves a friend hanging!"

"You know the clinic's services for mild cases are free, right?"

"That generous heart of yours just makes me swoon, Y/N! But I can't possibly let you do me all this kindness without doing something in return!"

You sighed raggedly. "If this is you roping me into one of your scams..."

Sampo slapped a hand over his heart and clasped his chest as though mortally wounded. "You wound my poor soul, my heart, Y/N! Would 'lil old Sampo really do that to you?"

Your utterly deadpan glance sent him into nervous chuckles as he amped up his attempts to get you to come along.

"Come now, Y/N! You can trust me! Just this once, and if I wrong ya, you can toss me to the automatons! Honest to goodness!"

You were already yanking on your coat to follow when he crossed his finger over his heart as if to swear his undying allegiance to getting you back in one piece, sweeping past him out the door and grumbling something about being in your right mind to toss him to the robots anyways. The Sampo Koski looked a bit stunned at that, staring at you from within the clinic with wide emerald eyes.

"Well? Are you going to lead me there or no?"

"Ah, yes! Of course!"

Shockingly, it didn't take long to get to where the conman wanted to go. You had to duck past a few bots and avoid a few Fragmentum monsters, but really, that was every day in a place like the Underworld.

Yet, the bright glow of the huge Geomarrow vein caught your eye at once, sending you into awed silence.

Sampo smiled at that, dragging you along by the arm to a better vantage point. You stared up, admiring the rare beauty in a place as dreary as the Underworld.

As a doctor, especially an assistant to the only other doctor in the whole of the Underworld, you didn't really get the opportunity to go out and explore much beyond Boulder Town. Sure, there'd be patients you had to go to that couldn't make the distance to the clinic, but they were rarely beyond the walls of town.

The sight before you was truly something magnificent. Something you had never seen before.

"Well, like it?" Sampo nudged your arm, snapping you out of your trance as he grinned at you. "Told you it was cool! Thought you could use some time out of that stuffy clinic."

"It's..." You didn't quite know what to say. Words escaped you as you glanced between Sampo and the marvel of mineral. "It's really something. You weren't lying."

Even though you were too awed to realize you had admitted to his truth, the man beside you still hooted with laughter at his 'victory'.

Only when his joyful whoops calmed down did you manage to fully tear your eyes away from the sight, looking over to see Sampo trying to fiddle with something in his pocket.

"Sampo?"

The man jumped, and if you were any more alert to his antics, you would've assumed he was plotting something. However, he only hid his hands behind his back, beaming.

"What's up?"

"...Thank you."

The words were quiet, begrudging, but you managed them anyways. You expected immediate feedback from your so-called friend, only to be met with thick silence. You once again called his name, and he once again jumped.

"What's the matter with you? You've not got something criminal planned, do you?"

"Nope, Sampo Koski is always loyal to his word!" His chuckles were nervous, contradicting his statement. Just as you raised a brow and were about to speak up, however, he handed you a small chain.

"Haha, almost forgot!" Lie. "I had this for ya, too."

The item was placed in your hand before you could even protest, and you nearly leapt in shock when you realized what it was, were it not for your ability to keep on your stoic disposition.

A beautifully crafted, decorative Geomarrow wrist cuff sat in your palm, a nice rustic design to it that would compliment your outfit, surely. It looked more expensive than everything you owned combined.

"...Sampo—"

"See, an old buddy of mine owed me a favor from way back when. He's a jeweler nowadays, not super useful here, but I got my hands on a chunk of Geomarrow and he worked his magic! Cool, huh?"

"Sampo—"

"And that chunk isn't stolen, no siree bob! Got it completely legitimate this time! Paid out of pocket!"

"Sampo, are y—"

"It wasn't easy, but—"

"Sampo!"

The man finally stopped rambling, pausing to glance down at you with wide eyes.

"Haha, erm, yes, my dear Y/N?"

You would've felt your face flush—in fact, you were still actively staving off the heat to your cheeks—but you had to get one question out of the way first, a hardened expression on your face.

"You stole this, didn't you?"

"No!" Sampo's insistence was so adamant that it sent you aback. "Didn't you hear what I said? Honest, I didn't steal! Not a single part of the process was made with thievery or swindling! 'Cause you don't like it, and I wasn't about to confess in a way you don't like—"

"Confess?"

The conman stopped short, scratching his cheek and whistling inconspicuously, glancing anywhere but you. You weren't having much better luck with maintaining eye contact.

You glanced down at the cuff again, reluctantly sliding it on, but unable to deny how much you were taken by it. It was also the only way to distract yourself from the shock you felt, from the warmth now prominently displayed in your cheeks.

"So... yeah. Um. I did this all. For you. To confess, 'I love you' style and all of that, if that's how ya want to put it..."

"That's how you put it."

"Can you have some mercy on my poor heart?! Sampo's trying his best here!"

At that, you snorted. Then, you giggled. Eventually, you devolved into shaky, small laughter, chuckles that couldn't be hidden even by your typically impassive countenance.

For the first time in his life, Sampo found himself utterly dumbstruck. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, in a trance as he listened to your laughter, as sweet as the chime of a bell.

To Hell with confessions and acceptance, the man was fairly certain he could die happy just hearing such a sound and seeing such a look on your face. Even if you were laughing at the notion of him being in love with you, Sampo was confident he couldn't care less.

And then, for the second time that evening, the conman was struck speechless.

"Well... fine. I suppose I can graciously accept your feelings and your heart, Sampo Koski."

His eyes lit up like the Overworld sun.

"But only if you stop getting hurt. Period."

It wasn't enough to extinguish the light in his eyes, but it was enough to get him to droop, slinking over and hanging off your shoulder pathetically with a pout.

"Aw, then how am I going to see you?! Sampo Koski needs his Y/N time, or he'll be lost! I'm lost without you!"

It took everything you had not to clobber him—but this time, you were sure that twinge of annoyance was strong-armed aside by pure fondness.

#honkai star rail #honkai #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai x reader #gepard landau #gepard x reader #gepard #gepard landau x reader #sampo #sampo koski #sampo x reader #sampo koski x reader #jing yuan #jingyuan #jing yuan x reader #jingyuan x reader

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ohnoitstbskyen · 2 months

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I know it would probably bring a lot of hate comments but I am begging you to roast the hazbin character designs because I'd love to have someone properly articulate why they don't work so I could send it to people who won't believe me when I tell them. 🫠 Understandable if you don't want to get into it though.

I don't think there's that much there to roast, honestly?

Those designs are clearly an extremely specific stylistic choice, and because that style is consistent throughout the show, it ultimately feels coherent with itself.

There are trade-offs being made. Because Hazbin's design style is SO stylized and so heavy on decoration and detailing, because it puts a lot of emphasis on costuming, it isn't as good at communicating specific character storytelling as a more grounded style could be (it's kind of the same tradeoff that stuff like Genshin Impact makes).

Like, why does Sir Pentious' hat have an eye and a mouth on it that makes its own expressions? Apparently not for very much reason at all, except that Pentious has a bit of an eyes-motif going on in his design and it was one more place to put an extra eye. And that's a valid criticism of his design, but also the entire show is designed like that, so frankly it would be weirder and more out of place if his design alone didn't have that kind of overelaborate decoration going on.

It does create a situation where I have a hard time "reading" the character designs sometimes. For example, Vox, Alastor and Pentious all wear a similar style of suit with upwards-turned shoulders, butterflies and pinstripes. Now, am I meant to read that as Vox imitating Alastor due to his crippling need to replace and outdo him, and Pentious imitating the style of powerful Overlords because he thinks that possessing their level of power will finally give him relief from his paranoia and self-loathing?

Or is it just a design fixation of the creator who keeps putting their characters in suits because that's just what they like? I can't really be sure, because sometimes design elements are used to intentionally tell stories about how characters relate to themselves, their world and one another, but plenty of other times designs look the way they do Because Of Vibes.

But again, that lack of clarity is clearly an intentional trade-off - and the benefit of that trade-off is a design style that is extremely varied, wild, expressive and memorable. Hazbin Hotel seems like a very easy show to draw fanart of, and a very fun show to draw fanart of. Those designs (especially the hyper-expressive faces) are begging to be the subjects of traumatic headcanons, unbearably cotton-candy soft fluff fantasies and weird, taboo, homoerotic power dynamics. Slaps roof of character design, this bad boy can express so much vicarious emotional intensity.

It's very exuberant, very excited about itself and very self-indulgent, it's a style that prioritizes visual impact and visual interest over readability (something which the animators of the show navigate with real skill, props to them) and individual aesthetics over worldbuilding.

And I don't blame anyone for being turned off by that (I certainly was the first time I started seeing those designs going around), but I would struggle to call the show's designs "bad" when they are clearly achieving exactly what they want to achieve.

I have some criticisms, especially re: how the show treats skinny bodies as an unquestioned, desirable default, and employs fatness as a means of alienating and abjecting the audience. That sucks very badly, and is a serious disappointment, and one of the few places where the show feels like it is being cowardly in its design philosophy. But I don't have it in me to do some kind of Hazbin Hotel Sucks And Here's Why takedown, its problems are not unique or extreme enough to warrant it, at least not as I currently understand them.

#tb answers #hazbin hotel #character design

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dreamisols · 8 months

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permission ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

—your boyfriend has a cute but questionable habit —wc: 1,140 ; sleepy proofread —fluff, birthday fluff, rin is (squeezes him gently), some personal headcanons, and slight younger rinnie personality headcanons —rimi's ramble: happiest birthday to rin itoshi my boy uee i love him so much <3 also halfway into writing this i realized how soft i always make him but i'd gladly ramble about that too

it's been well over a year into your relationship with rin itoshi.

and at this juncture, you could say that he's opened up to you about nearly everything. it took time, and you were as patient as ever in his eyes. he showed you everything about himself: the good, the bad, what he wants to be, and who he used to be. you can't be fooled by his grumpy persona and harsh body language, not when he finally bared his whole raw heart for you to hold and love. you two knew practically everything about each other.

which might be why you noticed rin slowly picking up some of his old habits from childhood.

for instance, he'd wake you up sometimes from your summer midday naps to offer going out and buying some popsicles from a convenience store nearby to battle the afternoon heat. despite your lazy protests, you'd drag your feet and go with him. and you'd watch as his teal eyes carefully scan the selection of icy treats inside the freezer despite knowing he'd always grab the blue twin pops.

another is when he'd take you to aquariums for dates more often. he once told you in passing that his brother used to love taking him to aquariums when they both couldn't sit and overlook the beach. and now because of how frequently you two have dates there, you two are practically regarded as regulars by the employees (they've joked to rin once about how he should propose to you in one of their scenic spots in the future; rin choked on the water he was drinking).

but the most prominent one is how rin would have this mindless habit of asking permission for the most no-brainer, useless, and quite frankly, idiotically endearing things.

you didn't question it at first. they were honestly all reasonable things to ask from someone who's in a relationship for the first time. albeit he was extremely awkward the first few times around, with him struggling to get the words out, you eventually got used to his small requests and questions.

a small "may i come in?" after every time he knocks on your door whenever he's over at your place.

a shy offer of "do you want me to brush your hair?" when he notices you dozing off a bit after a fresh evening shower.

even a "is it alright if i stay out late with the team?" text once every blue moon whenever he's dragged to their shenanigans (completely against his will).

rin may be struggling with socializing and understanding others' social cues well enough, but mama itoshi didn't raise a disrespectful boy.

you really haven't paid much attention to this habit of his until his birthday.

"i... i can do anything with you..?" rin questions, almost in disbelief. nodding, you parrot his words back, "yep! it's your special day today, so everything's your call!"

"anything...?" he asks again. and like earlier, you nod once more.

there was a beat of silence that accompanied the shocked look rin gave you.

"obviously, everything within reason..!" you cough nervously, afraid rin might've gotten the wrong idea or got too pressured by your supposed surprise, "we also don't have to go out or anything... like i said, whatever you-"

"can... we hold hands...?"

you stop your frantic rambling when your mind processed his words. your gaze is directly at him, but he's staring at the ground like he finally discovered something groundbreaking. the way he spoke sounded as if he was in utter disbelief. it was like if his crush told him that they liked him back, or like he was told that he won the grand prize of something big.

which is confusing.

"y-yes we can?" you quirk one of your brows with a rather unsure smile, "we often hold our hands together, rinnie. we even interlock fingers."

your boyfriend still has that dumb surprised look casted on the wooden floor, "oh.. yeah..."

you were about to question the tone of his voice when he perks up so suddenly and goes on a tangent,

"can we wear matching scarfs when we go out, then? it's practical for the temperature. can we use the one you bought us... that one with the sanrio dog you said reminded you of me because of soccer— pochacco?"

he sits upright and looks up at you with eyes filled with so much anticipation that you can't bear to look away, "we can wear that, right?"

you nod again, "yes rinnie, we can wear that out. like you said, it's cold anyways-"

your excited boyfriend cuts you off once more, like an overly excited child, "if it's cold, can we cuddle? oh, maybe we can also get a mini cake from the bakery nearby? or better yet a parfait— can we share? i don't like overly sweet food..." he gasps softly, like he's struck with the most genius idea, and looks up at you once more for permission.

"can i kiss you..? but.. like, a lot-"

you finally squish his cheeks to stop his mouth from blabbering more and more words that make you both want to squeal at his cuteness and shake him like a dog does with a chew toy because of how annoyingly stupidly adorable he is.

"rin itoshi." the man sits straight at the use of his full name. "i love you with all my heart but oh my god if you ask permission from me for yet another stupid thing i might kiss you and or muffle you with the couch pillow." as if for good measure that your point gets across, you flick rin's forehead softly.

"you know that you're free to spoil yourself, match anything with me, and indulge in any form of affection you're comfortable with." you leave a soft kiss on his cheek, which elicits a gasp from your boyfriend.

"so no more of these useless questions, okay?"

rin nods three times, still looking at you with all the love in the world. your black cat of a boyfriend has magically morphed into this puppy of a man, you can practically envision his imaginary tail wagging from excitement. but you don't mind this side of rin—the side of his that allows his inner emotions, his inner youth run free. if anything, it's a testament to how much he's grown comfortable with you.

your lips form a small smile, your eyes reflect all your love back at him.

just as you were about to change the topic, you catch his teal eyes drift to your lips, back up to your eyes, then down to the floor.

three seconds pass.

"can we-" "you just want the kiss on the lips, don't you?"

if it results in more opportunities for kisses, then yes, he doesn't mind asking all these stupid nonsensical questions.

likes and reblogs are appreciated, but please don’t copy or repost my work!

#🎐rimi.works #💌.bluelock #blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock rin #bllk fluff #bllk rin #bllk x reader #blue lock fluff #rin itoshi #rin itoshi fluff #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi x you #itoshi rin #itoshi rin fluff #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin x you #happy birthday to my boy<3 #late rin bday post on my end sorry :(

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upsidedownwithsteve · 3 months

Text

A soulmate AU: Steve Harrington x fem!reader [5.9K]

THE TIMELINE

"Oh no, you know you know I'd be lying if I said I wasn't dying, For someone I could die for, someone I could try for Fall apart and cry for, go 'head, risk my life for."

-Someone I Could Die For by Lewis Capaldi

II. ROME, ITALY: 49 BC

The roar that came from the bowels of the Colosseum never became easier to hear.

The noise seemed to make the city shake, the streets empty, the market stalls abandoned in favour of bloodshed. The games took place in the summer, when the skies were an endless blue and there were no clouds to tamper down the climbing heat. The sun bore down on the sandy pit of the enormous Amphitheatre and the seats were filled, the doors that had already been closed still surrounded by regretful stragglers who were forced to listen to the chaos from outside of the walls.

Fourteen men had died already, three from the jaws of the lions, two from the bears and eleven from the swords of other imprisoned slaves. The cheering from the crowd made your stomach curl. The floor of the stage was covered in red, the sand streaked with spilled blood and the animals that were bullied back into their cages had their jaws tinted pink.

It wasn’t a joyous occasion, no matter how many people celebrated in the name of their emperor. The leader of Rome was sitting mere seats away from you, dressed in ruby robes that were slung like a cloak over his white toga and his laurel crown glinted with golden beads that sat tucked into the olive wreaths. He was drunk on wine and violence, and your father sat next to him in the royal box, ever eager to please as he clinked his chalice against his kings.

Being the daughter of Rome’s most beloved senator certainly had its positives. You were dressed just as finely as the royalty around you, the fabric that was made to fit your frame swept to the floor and only yesterday, the emperor’s cousin had gifted you a necklace made of the finest gold, inset with glittering emeralds, pretty enough for a princess.

The same cousin smiled at you from across the row, each seat in the royal box made from plush velvet, the high backs ornate and cushioned, unlike the stone carved benches the rest of the civilians were sitting on. You smile back, uneasy but polite, and your father nodded approvingly.

You were expected to marry, you knew that much. You were already considered too old to be unwed and you knew the rest of the court whispered about how you would now struggle to bear a child. But the man that was expected to be your husband wasn’t who you loved. He wasn’t unkind, he wasn’t cruel - not like you’d heard men could be. The girls in the kitchen would tell you stories of how their husband made demands. Shouting each night for their meals, their baths, how their shirts weren’t stitched right, how their beds would lay cold because their wives were too tired.

Some men visited the bath houses, you knew that much. Seeking out a lupa for the night, the ladies that were called she-wolves, with their painted lips and robes that showed so much skin. Some men decided that they didn’t need to listen to their wives at all, you were once told, horror etched on your face. Some men took what they thought they owned.

So no, the emperor’s cousin seemed kind enough. But you weren’t in love with him. You weren’t sure who you were in love with. A dream, perhaps. One that kept returning to you from a young, young age. A dream about a different town, one you’d never been to before. But in your sleep, it felt like home. White buildings and green gardens with tall, tall trees and pretty, ornate gazebos made of stone on the edges of shallow ponds. You were by the sea there, a blue-green ocean that seemed so calm.

Sometimes monsters came, the marble statues that guarded the city came to life and turned your dream into a nightmare. There was always fire and fury, storm clouds and too big waves and a man with skin the colour of death would try and take your hand. But even when the dream turned bad, there was always someone else.

A man, with a blurry face and a mess of almost too long hair. It hid his eyes from you and you could never make out too many details but you burned when you looked at him, you could weep when he touched you. Sometimes he led you through the burning town, his hand clasping your own as you both tried to run and run and run.

Other times, you lay in a bed with him, skin bare and your head on his chest as he murmured the sweetest poetry to you, words that made your heart race. Your dream was encased in white linen sheets, a hazy, soft light that always made it look like early morning and when the man’s lips met yours, you always woke up.

Him. You loved him.

You hadn’t been in love before, but whenever you dreamed of the stranger, you were sure that must have been what love felt like.

“Have some grapes, darling,” your thoughts were interrupted by your father as he thrust a plate of fruit and cheese under your nose.

But the fifteenth gladiator was being dragged through the gates by the armpits, a clawed hammer still sticking out from his chest and your insides turned over at the idea of eating such sweet treats as blood poured from the men in front of you. The emperor’s box was almost nauseatingly close to the fights.

You shook your head before you remembered your manners, smiling politely and murmuring, “I’m quite alright, thank you.” You blew out a breath, shaky and faint.

From your other side, one of the young girls who had been gifted to you on your sixteenth birthday waved a giant fan. A large peacock feather, a huge plume of colours that merely wafted the too warm air back and forth but you smiled your thanks at your lady in waiting, a pretty girl who’d turned into a prettier young woman. She was small and lithe, angular in the face with curls that came to her sharp jawbone and she smiled back.

Nancy, as she’d introduced herself to you a week after she’d arrived at your fathers house, from the Wheeler family of Liguria. She didn’t like the gladiator fights anymore than you did, always murmuring about the rights of the animals and how inhumane it was later in the night as she drew you your bath.

“—from Verona,” your father was saying with a mouth full of provolone. “One of their best, so they say, His Majesty simply had to have him.”

You blinked, frowning in confusion at your fathers words. You hadn’t been paying attention in the slightest and nothing you’d caught made any sense. “Sorry?” You grimaced apologetically and took a few pomegranate seeds from the plate of food in apology for your rudeness. “Who is from Verona?”

Your father rolled his eyes, a sure sign that you’d be lectured in his study later for your lack of respect. “The next gladiator, child.” He gestured to the stage where the soldiers were locking the gates to the tigers, each big cat growling with menace when the men came too close to the bars. “They say he’s unbeatable. Our Highness offered a more than generous helping of coin for his papers but Verona’s general didn’t seem to want to part with him.”

You frowned again. The crowd seemed to be aware of this man and his presence, murmuring and shifting in their seats in anticipation. “If that is the case,” you prodded. “Then how is he here? If the gladiators… owner—” the word left a terribly bitter taste in your mouth and you felt heavy with guilt when Nancy’s fan brushed your shoulder. “If his owner didn’t want to sell him?”

Your father snorted, an unattractive sound that made Nancy wince beside you. “No one tells the emperor of Rome ‘no’, dearest.” Your father shrugged. “The gladiator cannot be owned, if his owner is dead.”

Bloodshed. Always bloodshed.

A man came from the east side gates with chains around his ankles and wrists. You couldn’t quite see him for your seat, not yet, but the crowd above and around you roared, eager for the final fight to begin. The man already looked beaten and tired as soldiers stepped forward to unlock his manacles and you sat forward in your seat for the first time since you entered the Colosseum that day.

He had messy hair, dark brown and hanging just past his chin. It was already damp looking, matted and dirty from being kept god knows where as the emperor's new toy. He was shirtless, his body lean but corded with muscle. He had wide shoulders and a lithe waist, powerful thighs and skin that was tanned from the sun, a sure sign he spent too much time outside, training hard in the Italian heat.

As he moved closer to the middle of the stage, you saw the marks on his body, leftover scars and new slices in his flesh that still looked viciously red. The crowd got louder as a sword was thrown at his feet, a large, heavy looking thing with a bronze handle. Some cheered for the new warrior, hoping for some excitement, while others jeered and booed, already too attached to their darling reigning champion.

The gladiator picked up his sword and the crowd became wilder still, but he gave them no mind. He didn’t put on a show like some of the others, he didn’t flex his muscles or raise his weapon like it was already a prize. His leather loincloth was a deep wine colour, the tan leather pleats looking far from newly made and the material was already streaked with blood and dirt before his first opponent arrived.

Your heart felt heavy for him, as it did for all the others who were forced into the Colosseum - prisoners, slaves and animals alike. You watched the gladiator flex his wrist, testing the weight of his weapon just as the gates in the west cranked open.

Rome’s current champion strode out from the shadows and into the bright sun, his bare chest glinting with sweat and Hargrove held his hands aloft, grinning as the crowds went insane. He beat his chest, his long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail and when he was handed his own sword, he wasted no time in running towards the new fighter, the steel blade glinting.

You gasped, moving closer still to the edge of your seat and you couldn’t find it in you to bear much mind to the looks your father and Nancy shot you. It wasn’t like you to take such an interest in the sport, never mind be so heavily invested. You didn’t like to watch the wounded, preferring to close your eyes when the screams began, hiding cowardly behind Nancy’s fan when the blood turned the sandy stage pink and red.

But this new gladiator, he was fast.

He dove at the last second, dodging the tip of Hargrove’s blade and he rolled towards the section where you sat. Dust kicked up from the move, his sword tearing into the wreaths and sashes that hung from the Emperor’s box. You grasped the edge of the wooden frame, peering over the side and down to the stage, hoping to not see blood already.

Instead you found the gladiator looking back up at you, his sword still in his grasp and when his eyes met yours, they widened. Something like recognition hurtled through you, a feeling that sucked the breath from your lungs and you felt dizzy, like lightning itself had struck you from the sky. You thought the man perhaps felt the same, a frown on his face telling you that he felt just as confused as you did.

But before you could consider where on earth you could have possibly seen his face before, Hargrove attacked again, bringing his blade down to where the gladiator's shoulder should have been, if he hadn’t rolled once again.

You were on your feet now, the stares of your father be damned. Your eyes were wide, your heart beating far too fast, like you yourself were on the stage, being hunted for sport. Wood splintered into the space under your nails as you watched the man run, his muscles pumping, his eyes narrowed.

“Darling, are you quite alright?” Your father placed a hand on your arm, more confused than concerned.

“Yes, I just— yes.” You cleared your throat and sat down again, albeit back to the edge of your chair. You could feel the rest of the royal party staring at you. “Where did you say the man was brought from? The new gladiator?”

“Harrington?” One of the Emperor’s councilmen interjected. He pointed a pudgy finger at the brown haired gladiator, who was now swinging his sword with as much power as Hargrove. “Steven Harrington of Verona, best of his breed I heard. His general didn’t take too kindly to the King’s offering and well— you know what happens when his Highness is made to feel upset.”

The metallic clink of the swords filled the arena as everyone held their breaths. Not many had lasted this long against Hargrove before.

“Rumour has it that he didn’t take too kindly to his general being beheaded. Took six men to get him into the back of the cart, even more to make him train. He’s been refusing food all week.”

The idea of it made you feel unwell, a sickly, creeping kind of pain curling around each of your ribs and suddenly you were starving, just as much as you were sure the man would be. But still, I didn’t seem to make him move any slower, it didn’t hinder him in bringing his sword down any harder.

But strangely, every time the new gladiator was struck, every time his knees hit the raw sand, every time he got close enough for you to see him suck in a gasping breath— you felt it too.

It was a battle like you’d never seen before, more vicious than the others from that day, a showdown under the blazing heat of the high sun. No tiger seemed as powerful as Steven Harrington of Verona did. There was something animalistic in the way he moved, all power and lean muscle, a steely glint in his brown eyes that you didn’t dare look away from. He moved too quickly for Hargrove’s blade, dodging and diving as he flung up sand, blinding his opponent and slicing at his legs. Each move was a blur, the stage bleeding with fresh red, the blonde gladiator on his knees.

But Hargrove was ruthless, grappling with the newcomer until they were both wrestling in the dust cloud and the crowd went insane, people chanted and stomped their feet, the amphitheatre shaking down to its very bones. The imperial box quaked with the energy, but truly, you weren’t present enough to feel it.

Your eyes never left Steven’s fighting figure.

The swords seemed to be forgotten, the steel blades rusted with blood, both fresh and new, and they lay in the sand. Fists flew, knees pressed to chests to keep the other down and it was brutal, it was harsh, it was deadly.

You wanted to vomit. You feared you might.

You wondered what would happen if you leapt from your chair, if you let your skirts get torn and bloodied in the mess of the stage, if you threw yourself down onto the sand and begged for Hargrove to take his hands away from the new gladiator's throat.

Would you be punished? Beaten? Locked away? Killed?

You weren’t sure but somehow, all the options felt worth it. You couldn’t watch this man die before you. Not when it felt like you’d already witnessed his death before.

But Steven wrestled himself out of Hargrove’s hold, twisting and tumbling whilst he gasped, one hand clutching at his reddened neck and the other grappling for his blade. He swung it through the air, arching wide, his wounded shoulder ripping with effort it took but the sword landed where the warrior intended it to.

Silence settled over the colosseum, the air still enough for you to hear the surviving champion heave out gasping, heavy breaths. There was blood on his hands, his chest, his face.

His right eye was already bruising, red and lilac coming to the surface of his skin like fresh blooms in spring. His shoulder was a mess, his right leg causing him to buckle slightly as he rose to his feet.

The man turned, jaw slack, his sword falling limply to the ground once more, his opponent still and at his feet. His eyes found yours and time stilled, at least, to you. The crowd erupted, an explosion in its own right, the entirety of Rome cheering for their new champion.

A man you were sure you already loved.

By the time the fight had ended, you felt beaten and bruised. There were no marks on your skin, no blood seeping through your gown, but something inside of you hurt all the same. It felt like something was clawing at your heart, a memory that was banging on the front of your skull, screaming at you to remember.

When the guards dragged the gladiator from Hargrove’s limp figure, he dropped his sword to the sand and spat a mouthful of blood towards the ground at the royal pit. The Emperor merely chuckled as others around you gasped and before you could even hear your fathers protests, you were on your feet.

Steven Harrington was shackled once more, the metal chains clinking around his hands and feet. And as he was led away back into the arches, the gears of gates making an awful protesting noise, his eyes found yours once more.

A burning gaze, too intense to look away from and you could’ve sworn on the gods, on the stars above, that something inside of you tugged sharply. Like the pull of a string, tied in a bow between your ribcage, urging you forward.

Telling you to go.

So you did.

You gathered your skirts in your hands and made your way to the exit of the box, too focused to hear your fathers objections until the guards at the doorway halted you with their spears. The wooden stalks crossed themselves over your chest and you froze, the string tied to your heart pulling tighter and tighter and tighter—

The Emperor was staring at you, with cold eyes and a smile that wasn’t really a smile. He spoke to your father, not you. “Where, my dear senator, is your lovely daughter running off to?” The king turned back to you, brows raised. “Doesn’t she know that more wine will be served soon? My cousin is looking forward to her company.”

Your father stared at you, a stricken expression on his aged face because everyone in the royal box could read between the lines of the Emperor.

You cleared your throat, eyes still trained on the sharp metal points of the spears that were very much in your face. “Forgive me, father - your highness - I was merely hoping to get some fresh air.”

“The sight of all that blood makes her rather delicate,” your father agreed and the crowd of councilmen, generals and their wives tittered in their jewels. “She isn’t one for conflict.”

The Emperor stared at the side of your face, something you could feel despite bowing your head in his presence. You stared at the floor and waited, heart racing.

The royal tsked. “What a pity,” he declared but he waved a hand, each finger heavy with golden rings, and his soldiers stepped aside. “Be back in time for the parade, child, you have company to entertain.”

The Emperor’s cousin leered at you, his wine glass empty, his lips stained ruby but none of it mattered right now, not when you were taking off once more, skirts dragging across the dust and sand, your chest heaving as you tried to navigate your way through the crowd that was already dispersing.

More guards, heavily armoured and with their swords drawn, were too preoccupied with a fight that had broken out between the arches, two lower class men arguing over a coin they found on the ground. Taking your chance, you moved with your head down, your face hidden as you slipped through a door that was normally carefully watched.

The heavy wood slammed shut behind you, the sunlight swallowed whole. Burning torches lit the narrow corridor, a maze of them leading you underneath the Colosseum. The hypogeum was almost damp as you tried to navigate its many walkways, a gasp leaving your throat as you took a wrong turn and ended up face to face with the iron bars that separated you from the animals.

A huge tiger growled at you, bloodied teeth bared in a snarl, the stench of raw meat and faeces hanging in the cool air. You backed away, eyes flickering from cage to cage, each one filled with another poor creature. Lions, bears, a rhinoceros and its offspring, and beyond them, an even larger cell holding prisoners. They all stared at you, men and animals alike, but nothing was spoken.

You backed away, unable to breath, turning on your heel and walking quickly enough to spot the familiar grey robes of the healers used after the battles. You followed, your steps light, and watched him enter a small room. Between the door opening and closing, you spotted the gladiator perched on a wooden table, his head bent low and his face hidden behind his damp hair.

You weren’t sure what possessed you, but before you barged into the room too, both men staring at you from the table where the healer held a ragged cloth to the gladiator’s shoulder.

“Miss, you have no need here,” the healer announced, his voice strict and cold. He narrowed his eyes as he gestured to the door. “This is no place for—”

“My father sent me.” It was a lie, of course. A bold and bare faced one at that. But you stood a little taller and lifted your chin, the emerald necklace at your throat shining in the low light that came from the small fireplace in the corner. “The senate has questions I’ve been asked to deliver. I shall not leave without the appropriate answers.”

On the mantle, beside bottles of acids and other medicinal vials, sat a small statue of the goddess Veratis. Her marble eyes seemed to judge you and your lies and you swallowed down the bitter taste it left on your tongue. But looking at the man - this stranger from Verona - the need to speak to him, to be alone with him, was overwhelming you to the point of senselessness.

The trouble you could be in if you were to be caught in your lie… or worse, down in the hypogeum. This was no place for a woman of your standing, never mind to be alone with a gladiator, both of you unspoken for. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat.

“If we may have some time alone?” You added with more authority than you should have held. “Unless you’d prefer that my father leave the Emperor’s side to ensure his orders are fulfilled?”

The healer sighed but placed down his tools. He flashed you a smile that was all crooked teeth, more bite than kindness, but he made his way to the door. “That won’t be necessary, My Lady,” he told you and he left, closing the wooden door behind him.

The silence was a deafening thing. The crackle of the fire was still there, the distant roar of some poor, wounded animal, but whatever was held between the two of you took on a life of its own. It seemed to suck the rest of the world into it until there was nothing left but you and this man. He was staring at you still, brown eyes wide and so familiar, looking as confused as you felt as you stared right back.

It felt too easy to take a step forward, but the warrior flinched. Your next was slower, softer, more cautious. Your hand found the rag that the healer had once held, what little water it had been soaked in was cold, the material harsh. It didn’t take you long to find a new cloth in one of the drawers of the apothecary table and you took your time to warm some fresh water over the hearth.

Honestly, you didn’t know too much about medicine, only the basics that your father’s head servant had taught you as a young child. You found the small bottle of alcohol with ease, plucking it from the shelf and adding it to the warm water before soaking the new rag.

You held it up in offering to the man, still far enough from you that his dirty hair hid most of his face. His tanned chest was streaked with sweat and dust, marred with old cuts and fresher wounds from Hargrove’s weapon, but for the most part, he seemed okay.

“Can I?”

The gladiator lifted his head then, his hair falling away from his cheeks and you took in a sharp breath at the sight of his face. He was handsome, painstakingly so, but over and above all else, he was someone you were sure you knew.

The man nodded, just once, lips pressed together and as you came closer, his nostrils flared and his large hands gripped the edge of the table. His eyes raced across your features, recognition coming to the surface and before he could ask the questions that were clawing at his throat, you lifted the cloth and pressed it to the cut on his shoulder.

He hissed, teeth bared and you frowned, hushing him softly, apologies murmured just as quiet. “I’m sorry,” you told him and gods, he knew you meant it. “I need the alcohol to soak the wound.”

Your heart stuttered when he let you, shoulders tight and back ramrod straight, but his eyes were on your face the entire time you worked. “You’re not a healer,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

His voice rung through you, a deep timber that was hoarse and scratchy, no doubt from refusing to speak since his capture. You hoped he’d been drinking enough water.

You shook your head as you pulled away, dipping the bloodied cloth back into the bucket. “No, I’m not,” you confirmed.

Another swipe at his skin had him jerking in response but the blood and dirt was finally clear of the cut. It would need stitches, you were almost sure of it, but your skills started and finished at the basics.

“Then why are you here?” The gladiator’s eyes were trained on your necklace, a sure fire way to recognise nobility and you were overcome with the urge to rip it from your throat. “Why did you follow me?” He spoke like he already knew the answer.

You were hesitant about it, but you couldn’t stop your hand from lifting to his neck, fingertips brushing two beauty marks on his skin. They felt electric under your touch and you were impossibly warmer now, despite the old cell lacking the heat from the summer above.

“I feel like I know you,” you whispered. Your voice cracked with an emotion you didn’t quite know the name of. “I feel like I’ve mourned you.”

The gladiator looked back at you from behind his damp hair, the long strands matted with his and his enemies blood. He didn’t look as concerned as he should have been at your strange words. In fact, he leaned into your touch, lashes fluttering at the sensation.

“What an odd thing to say to someone who hasn’t died,” he answered quietly. But his gaze roamed over your features and something about being so close to him felt cosmic, it felt like a catastrophe waiting to happen. “I think I’ve met you before,” the gladiator whispered. He sounded reverent now, his own hand shaking as he brought it to your face.

He cupped your jaw, your chin, his rough fingertips trailing over your soft skin and when his thumb dragged across your bottom lip, you gasped and pressed closer.

“I think I meet you when I sleep,” he said and he frowned at his own words, at how confusing he must’ve sounded. “Every night, when I close my eyes. You’re in a garden and then you’re in my arms.”

Flashes of a bed came to mind, white linen sheets and too much bare skin. A man’s chest, tanned and muscled from hard labour, your hands that roamed the expanse of his back. You remembered how he kissed you in your dreams, with a longing so intense it could waken the gods.

Like he had enough love for you that he could end the world.

You could only nod. His thumb was still pushed to your bottom lip, your mouth parted as if you were waiting and his stare was so intense you felt warmer than you had in the stadium above.

Who was this stranger?

And why did it feel like something inside of you was being stitched back together by the sheer sight of him? His touch felt healing, it felt like home. Like it was only made for you to feel. Like he was made only for you.

Above, something boomed. Loud enough to be heard underneath the hypogeum, over the roars of the unsettled animals. If you had been outside, you would’ve witnessed the blue sky turning grey, shades of moody lavender and navy, storm clouds rolling across Rome from seemingly nowhere.

Thunder rumbled, threatening noise, something that made you and the man move closer to each other, like you both knew you were in danger.

That you knew something bad was coming.

“I don’t understand,” you said, eyes blurring. You weren’t sure why you were crying but Steve didn’t seem to question it. He merely swiped away the tears that slipped down your cheeks. “You’re a stranger— we’ve never— we’ve never met.”

Despite your words, the gladiator moved closer, standing from his seat on the wooden table to lean his forehead against your own. Your eyes slipped closed, nose bumping his. He smelled like metal, like blood and dirt and sweat but underneath there was something like fire there, like molten iron, like lavender fields and fresh cotton. Like a daydream, like something you weren’t sure was real.

His bottom lip touched your top one, only just, only barely. A whisper of a kiss, a small insight of something that could’ve been, of something that maybe once was.

Thunder rolled again, louder than before, as if it was right above you both. Even over the din of the crowds above, you could hear the heavy patter of rain that was now flooding the colosseum, the stage soaked. Another warning, something you’d seen before in a dream just before it turned to a nightmare.

“I was meant to find you,” Steve murmured. He had your face cradled in his hands, an overwhelmingly gentle touch despite the dried blood under his fingernails. His voice grew in urgency then, like he knew something was coming. Someone. “I was meant to come here. I can feel it. I understand now.”

“Someone once told me you’d come back,” you suddenly remembered, your voice eager, your eyes wide at the memory. “I don’t know— was it you? From before? From—”

From another life, you wanted to say.

How ridiculous those words were, how silly, how stupid. But there wasn’t any other way to explain. Logic didn’t seem to exist when everything you felt from this touch of this stranger led you to believe that somehow, someway, you’d spend a lifetime together.

Like you were supposed to spend this one with him too. And it didn’t seem long enough, decades wouldn’t make up for the time you’d lost searching for him, for this stranger who only came to you in your sleep. But he was very real now, solid flesh and bone underneath your own hands, brown eyes that seemed warmer than the Italian summer.

You didn’t want to let him go.

“In here, my King,” a voice interrupted. The door was open and the healer had returned, a cold look on his already stern face. The Emperor was behind him, ruby robes collecting dirt from the old floor. Four soldiers flanked him. “I have every reason to believe the Lady sold me lies, Your Highness.”

It happened too quick. Too fast.

The Emperor studied you, Steve’s hands still on your face as you stood too close, ready to kiss, ready to fulfil something neither of you were sure of. It felt catalytic.

“Seize him,” was all the Emperor said, one lazy flick of his wrist sending all four guards at you both.

There was too much movement in the tiny room, bottles of medicinal wares clattering to the ground and smashing at your feet. The table groaned as Steve was shoved into it, his own reactions too slow from his injuries. He grunted and reached for you too late, his hand slipping from your own, fingers barely touching, as he was shoved at from either side.

One soldier shoved the butt of his sword into Steve’s wounded soldier, the other bringing his armoured knee into his bare stomach. The gladiator doubled over, a gasp leaving his chest before he fell to his knees on the stone floor.

“Stop this!” You yelled, urging forward, trying your best to throw yourself into the mix of it all but someone’s arms - another soldier - caught your round the middle. “Unhand him! Your Highness - please - he hasn’t done any wrong, please—”

The Emperor just looked at you blankly before he picked at the jewels around your neck. He tutted, as if it were a shame, a waste. You could hear the shackles being placed back on the man, the low groan he gave as the metal was tightened around his sore wrists.

“He won,” you whispered, your voice low and choked. You were ready to beg. “Please, he won. He doesn’t deserve this—”

“I don’t like anyone else playing with my toys,” the Emperor interrupted. He said it like he was discussing what to have for lunch. “And my dear cousin doesn’t like anyone playing with his.” He motioned to the guards once more. “Take her back to her seat, where you make sure she stays. This isn’t any place for a Lady,” he told you mournfully.

You didn’t get to see what happened to the gladiator as you were escorted out of the room. But you did hear his yells when the door slammed shut, the dull thuds of impact that you were sure were on his already bruised and broken body. You hadn’t even told him your name, or that you dreamt of him too. That during your worst night terrors, he was the one that saved you.

When you reached the imperial box once more, your skirts dirtied from the sand, your face tear stricken, you felt broken. Like you’d been snapped in half, like someone had found that wound Steve had stitched up and pulled it apart again the seams. Like someone had ripped something important from you, half of your heart, perhaps.

You didn’t even notice that it had stopped raining. The skies were blue once more, the sun shining, the only evidence of the sudden storm were the drops of rain that had soaked into the pillow on your chair.

Steve was gone and the thunder was too.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington oneshot

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nightmarist · 7 months

Text

Some Zevlor Things —

EDIT 12/2/23: Added a few more things

A fellow Tiefling Hellrider, Tilses, is with him in the caves acting as his bodyguard. He sometimes calls her Tilly.

There is one bedroll in the caves shoved off in the far corner with a book titled "The Devil You Know: An Autobiography" - not sure if it's his personal writing or if he's reading it, either way it adds to the flavor of his of his tiefling pride (and/or anguish).

It reads:

Have you ever had a god change your blood? It is a horrifying thing, even for those who may desire it. Yet few tieflings wished for Asmodeus to claim their bodies, only be given no choice in the matter. It is not as if we were well-loved before the archdevil's gambit. Our people have always struggled against the notion of 'devilkin', as if a single drop of infernal ichor inescapably corrupts. How amusing, when so many others willingly sell their souls to fiends, yet their culture as a whole escapes the blame. By what method can we redeem ourselves, when the crime is not ours? I would drive a blade into every warlock that aided Asmodeus' damned ritual, but personal vengeance cannot undo the will of a god, much less one as slippery as the Lord of Lies. When every passerby thinks you a thief and heretic, it is deeply tempting to become one. (cut off) The only thing that has stopped me is knowing Asmodeus wants nothing more than for all of us to fall from grace.

Around the his table are Invasion Plans for Elturgard, Traveler's Guide to Baldur's Gate, Traveler's Guide to the Sword Coast Vol IV: The Risen Road (which aligns when he tells you earlier there are gnolls on the road), and "Front and Center: a Thespian's Memoir" that reads:

"... in fact, the greatest joy of my life hasn't been acting, but becoming. When you choose a character to play, you don't just wear a mask - you take a little bit of their soul for your own. Whoever you are in your heart of hearts, if only by the faintest note."

Zevlor aside I think this is a sweet quote for the player and player character relationship <3

Dialogue in the Caves:

Zevlor: I Hardly need a bodyguard, Tilses. This isn't Avernus. Tilses: No sir. At least the monsters there looked like monsters.

—

Tilses: Commander— Zevlor: Just Zevlor, Tilly. We're civilians now, remember? Tilses: With respect, sir — being a Hellrider is for life. They can't take — Zevlor: They can, and did. Avernus changed things — best we get used to that. Tilses: ... Yes, Zevlor

—

Tilses: The Watch or the Flaming Fist? Zevlor: Pardon? Tilses: When we get to Baldur's Gate. Where are we enlisting? Zevlor: I'm done soldiering, Tilly. I'd like a clean start. But go with the Watch. You're too honest to be a mercenary.

—

Zevlor: No word from the scouts, yet? Tilses: No sir. But if there's a clear path past the goblins, they'll find it. Zevlor: Yes, of course.

ITEMS —

in the Chest there is a bronze goblet, 46 gold, and a battle-worn blade. On his person he has his gloves (Hellrider's Pride), an apple, a camp supply pack, and the key to his chest.

The blade says:

A fine by well-used sword. It seemed to have once belonged to a holy order, but the indication of rank and patron deity at the hilt have recently been filed down.

The gloves' flavor text says:

A waft of sulphur emanates from this proudly-kept piece.

Celebration at the Camp:

"I should be out there, talking with them. In... Just a moment, maybe." "Is this everyone? Our numbers have grown so few..." "No more. I can't afford to lose any more of them." "No. Let them have fun. I'll be ruining it come morning anyway."

Mindfayer Colony:

Things he mumbles in the Pod:

The pod will show you his memories of Elturel:

After saving Zevlor, I forced myself to pick the "mean" options just to see how it goes.

If you tell him its his fault tieflings were imprisoned in moonrise, he says:

If you tell him "Do yo have a right to ask?" when he asks about the tieflings:

He doesn't argue with any of your remarks except one, when he says "For a moment I welcomed it" and you tell him "For a moment until you realized your reward would be a tadpole" he corrects you:

If you tell him if he wanted power he should live up to his own ideal:

If you tell him to get out of your sight:

When you tell him it's not his fault he was enthralled:

If you tell him "Fine. Good luck, Zevlor."

If you say you could use another blade in the fight to come:

At the Netherbrain:

(smiling <3)

"The journey has been brutal, but I stand here a Hellrider once more, and I would die a proud man if I died this day."

I know it's a Soldier thing to be proud to die for a cause but it still makes me worry for him given his background so far <:]

If you click on him, he has two unvoiced lines:

if you pickpocket him at this point, he'll have the same items on him as before (in this save he has a carrot instead of an apple for me).

His stats at this time: (Steeped in Bliss is from one of my items)

Post Game (Patch 5)

I don't know if there are other permutations of this letter, yet, but this is what I received:

I hope my penmanship has improved somewhat in the past months. When I first stumbled into this city, I shook so badly that I could scarcely hold the soup the priests pressed into my hands - let alone write and thank you as you deserve. It is only when the city itself began to shake that I felt my hands grow still. Along with the other veterans sheltering at the temple - discards of Elturel's 'unworthy' legions - I watched that monstrosity rise over the city. We felt no fear. Only anger. Disgust. Purpose - and with it, power. I do not know what oath we cling to now, or how long it will last - but we shall use it to ensure that this city will not suffer as Elturel did. Whether it wants us or not. It is more than thanks alone I owe. No words can make amends for what I did to my people, but that is as it should be. More come to the temple every day to aid in the relief efforts, and if I am permitted to work alongside them, then I am content. Come and see us, when you can. Zevlor

It's interesting — if not bitterswet, tragic, and inspiring — to hear that Zevlor and other Paladins regained their Oaths via pure, stubborn devotion to saving people when it began to look as bad as Elturel.

#zevlor #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #act 1 spoilers #act 2 spoilers #bg3 spoilers #this man reeks of self loathing i want to bathe him in love and comfort #i also want him carnally #act 3 spoilers #bg3 meta

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honey-milk-depresso · 4 months

Note

hello there! i'd like to make a request!

may i request floyd, trey and rook with a s/o who has small hands? reader is kinda short [5'1-5'4] and their hands retain that theme. sorry for the cliche-ness, lol

ty!!

don’t worry I like it too-

TWST With a tiny S/o with tiny hands

Trey Clover

He’s gentle with someone tiny like you, and his hands are quite big and very warm to hold. He loves holding your hands too! You’re just adorable to him and likes to feel his whole hand engulfing most of your palm.

Trey also teases you a little bit due to your small stature, whenever you struggle to reach for something on the high shelf he just smiles sweetly and kisses your cheek, before helping you reach whatever was too high for you to reach and passes it to you.

Trey also loves to touch you subtly in affectionate ways: like placing his hands behind the small of your back in large crowds, holding your hand while walking down the corridors, covering the back of your hands while helping him knead dough with your much smaller hands because he just can’t help it, but he knows how to be reserved. Still, Trey loves showing small forms of physical affection to his small S/o. <3

Floyd Leech

Giant Eel Boy + Small Loveable S/o = Clinginess from the Eel 24/7.

You are just so small and his height only emphasises how tiny your are compared to Floyd. He loves squishing your cheeks, using you as his armrest and most importantly: holding your hands.

He can hold your hand forever, and his grip is firm but also gentle and he honestly can’t let you go once he starts it. You’re just such a tiny shrimpy~

Floyd becomes extra clingy and extra protective of your small stature: he places his chin on the top of you head and wrap his arms around you and sometimes glare at other students who look at you the wrong way (or legit just saying hi- he’s just like that-), hugging your waist from behind and lifting you up, twirling you around in the air with a toothy smile or suddenly sweeping you off your feet and running to no where in particular, just somewhere where you two can be alone together. <3

Rook Hunt

He thinks you’re just adorable! Simply beauté! Rook is rather fond of your short stature and he loves holding your hand. Or even bending down on one knee while holding your small and delicate hands in his gloved ones like the Prince Charming he wants to be for you even though he’s literally only asking you whether you would like to eat lunch with you.

Rook just states he “wants to practice when he gets on one knee with a diamond ring”, and you can’t tell if he’s serious or not (he is).

Rook, like Floyd, likes surprising you with affectionate touches, like sweeping you off your feet and complimenting anything about you honestly, carrying you bridal style while you both walk to class. He’s pretty much not afraid and shameless in showing everyone you’re his amazing, tiny s/o! <3

Reblogs help! ^^

#trey clover x reader #rook hunt x reader #floyd leech x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #trey clover #rook hunt #floyd leech #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst fluff #twst x reader fluff #twisted wonderland fluff #fluff #headcanon #x reader #self insert

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fushipurro · 4 months

Note

firefighter Toji !!! also hi, I hope you don’t mind me coming into your inbox to share some little thoughts and you can ignore this if you’d like !!

I’d love to hear your thoughts on that, the idea of him cracking jokes about saving cats from trees or even starting to call you his damsel in distress if you ever ask him to help you with something, even if it’s as simple as opening a stubborn jar

or how baby megumi would be so proud to tell everyone his dad is a firefighter and always wants to wear his dads hat that is too big for his little head !!

omg i love these ideas, and i don't mind at all!! i'm really happy you sent them cause now you got the ball rolling for me to go ham :3 i hope you enjoy these thoughts and i'd love to do more in the future ♡

☆ content: mostly sfw (nsfw under the cut, MDNI), domestic fluff, suggestive themes, foreplay, rough sex, chokeplay, creampie

☆ firefighter!toji who at first thought saving cats from trees was just something you'd see on TV, but realized soon after joining the force how often of an occurrence it actually is. the two of you started keeping a tally sheet because of it, always asking when he came home from a shift "how many cats did you save today?" he soon starts to text you photos of the cats he rescues knowing how much you love them and would want to see. if he's able, he'll take selfies with them just for you.

☆ firefighter!toji who started calling you his damsel in distress for fun, but quickly made it into one of the more common pet names he'll use for you. if he catches you struggling with anything, he'll be right behind you, smirking ear to ear asking, "does my damsel need some help?" you swear he purposely tightens all the jars in the house so you have no choice but to ask him to "save you", his beloved damsel.

☆ firefighter!toji who always comes home wearing his uniform jacket and hat just for you and megs to enjoy. he loves watching megumi struggle to wear it, and even more when you're right there taking pictures of it to frame on the wall. toji keeps one of these photos tucked away in his wallet and another of you in a nice cocktail dress and heels wearing his jacket after he had to bring you to the station during one of your dates for a sudden fire call.

☆ firefighter!toji who megumi always draws pictures of in school, always excited when his father comes around to show him off to his classmates. if he's able to, toji will sometimes pick megumi up from school in one of the rigs, throwing his hat on the boy and letting him play with the lights and sirens as they leave the lot. when christmas comes around, the station always dresses toji up as santa to toss candy to the neighborhood kids, megumi right there with him to help as his favorite little elf.

☆ firefighter!toji who loves when he can bring you the station to show you off for all the pancake breakfasts and warm weather grilling events they host. just seeing you in those beautiful sundresses always brings a smile to his face and even more when he sneaks you off to his rig to see how you look underneath the fabric.

☆ firefighter!toji who loves when you visit the station in your free time to deliver baked goods or a homecooked meal if he's had a busy day. you can't help but feel your core heat up seeing him in his uniform pants, topless with a sheen of sweat from working out, and when he slides down the pole just to meet you? you can bet you'll have him all to yourself at a moment's notice behind a closed door until the dispatch alarm inevitably goes off.

☆ firefighter!toji who has to try his hardest not to break his pager when it goes off during sex, swearing it always happens right before one of you climaxes. he never does though, not when he knows there's lives to save and every second counts but boy does it frustrate him. as he flies out the door, he always manages to kiss you and to wait up for him. when he does come home after a call, he's quick to express just how pent up he is, turning it into an intense lovemaking session that leaves you marked more than normal and needing to be carried around after like the damsel you are.

the two of you had just finished enjoying a nice dinner together and were enjoying the rest of your evening deep into some foreplay. toji originally wanted to take his sweet time catching up with you and your body after some busy shifts. the recent holidays had kept him away more often and he missed you more than words could say.

he barely had his shirt off, biding his time worshipping his damsel's body before even thinking of pleasuring himself. with that said, his cock strained against the fabric that held him back from plunging right into the clothed heat he was rubbing himself against. toji had his hands wrapped around your breasts, tongue flicking over each bud drawing you closer and closer to your high until all of a sudden, ~BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP~

your bodies froze instantly, going silent as he listened intently to whether or not his station was being dispatched and the nature of the call.

"fuckin' hell." he growled, reaching for his shirt. you stood up as well, throwing on your silk robe and going to gather his wallet and keys to remote start it for him.

when he met you at the front door, you reached up to kiss his scowling face, handing the man his belongings. "good luck, be safe, and i love you, toji." the three phrases you always tell him before he leaves as a blessing of sorts.

"love you too, y/n. i'll be back as soon as i can." he cupped your chin, staring deep into your eyes with a cold and desiring expression. his voice went low, causing your body to shiver with anticipation, "don't play with yourself before i'm home, i intend to finish what we started."

after he left, you waited by the window to watch him speed off before returning to your shared room. it hit you now being back in the sheets that he had unintentionally edged you and you ached for that sweet ecstasy to take you. but he gave you his orders, and all you could do was lay there staring at the ceiling, twiddling your thumbs to distract yourself from the heat pooling between your legs.

it was an agonizing wait, but once you heard the front door slam, you shot up to see the man already making haste towards you from the bedroom door.

"welcome home, toj─" his lips crashed into yours before you could finish your greeting, the force pushing you back against the sheets. you were familiar with how rough he can be, but this already felt more intense.

toji's body desperately clinged to yours in any way possible. his knee pressed against your exposed core, one hand holding your jaw to give him more access to mark your neck up. your fingers found purchase between his raven locks as you felt a knot tightening at your waist.

"fucking," he started to speak between starved kisses, undoing his pants as fast as humanly possible. "yet another guy who thought," he fisted himself a few times, lining the angry tip up to your entrance. "deep frying a frozen turkey was a good idea. fuck─"

a groan left both of your mouths as he pushed his way inside. he hooked his arm under your knee, drawing it upwards to give him better leverage to reach nice and deep to your g-spot.

"can't these people stick to stuffin' their birds in the damn oven safely?" he can feel your body clench around his cock, inviting him further as his pace grew. it didn't go unnoticed by the man, "oh? did my sweet girl hear something she likes?" he laughed through his nose with a smirk that reached ear to ear, his gaze like that of a predator. "bet you want me to stuff you, huh?"

you nodded your head feverishly, clinging to the sheets until your knuckles turned white.

"use your words, princess." his voice low and cold, betraying the way his body yearned for yours. "lemme hear my damsel beg for me to help."

"fuck fuck, please toji! i need you~" you whined, raising your hands above your head and rubbing your face against your bicep as your mind went crazy with lust.

toji reached for your other leg, throwing them over his thighs until he was perfectly between you. upon doing so, he leaned down, coiling his hand around your throat and pressing into the sides.

"eyes on me, sweetheart." your breath hitched as waves of pleasure coursed through you. "need to see that pretty face of yours when i stuff you full of my cum."

the vibrations from your moans ran right through his fingers and straight to his core. your high washing over you like a tidal wave with his length trapped in a vice grip. oh how toji wants to compare this force of yours against the jaws of life, betting you'd come out on top without a doubt.

he continued pumping you through your high, overstimulating you once his thumb hit your pearl. your fingers clawed at the veins running through his arms, eventually freeing your throat for you to breathe. toji moved his grip down to your waist to steady himself, chasing his pent up orgasm as another came under you that unraveled him. a deep growl leaving the man as you moaned his name freely.

he accomplished his goal in stuffing you, as evident from the thick glops of seed spilling out from inside you around his cock. "so good f'me, y/n." you could tell he was finally starting to relax from his earlier frustrations as his tone softened up.

"toji~" you mewled, looking up at him, panting in an attempt to catch your breath.

the man leaned down over you, caressing your face. he could see the red handprints forming over your body, sure to bruise later. "i know, baby. let me make it up to you, okay?" his lips came down to place gentle kisses over all the angry welts forming with praise in between. "you're such a good girl, my sweet damsel."

after that rough bout, he kept the next few rounds slow and sensual, moving you to the bath as he cleaned you off and carried you back to a clean bed. once there, toji pulled you against his chest as he whispered to you all the details from the turkey incident like a bedtime story. his fingers caressed over your stomach while his words lulled you into a deep slumber before he followed after. the next morning, toji made sure to bring your favorite breakfast to you in bed as you stirred awake, peppering you with kisses to start the day.

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