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bump1nthen1ght · 6 months

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A Very Monstrous Kinktober: Day 30 (Free Use)

Kinks: Free Use

Pairing: Male!Shrine God x GN!Shrine Keeper!Reader

Other Kinks: Doggy Style, Cowgirl

Warnings: Slightly Dubious Consent (Reader is subservient to the god, but has fully consented to this free use relationship)

Word Count: 1087 words

Kinktober Masterlist

A/N: I personally imagined the God character in this to look similar to Gintarou from the anime Gingitsune (though he would never treat you this way)

A lighter flicks in your hand, struggling to produce any flame. You know it has enough fluid, having refilled it not two days ago, but your thumb keeps slipping across the button.

“My l-lord, please,” You pant, sweaty hands struggling to keep a grip on the lighter, “-the incense has to be lit. Please, just wait-”

You gasp, lighter falling out of your hand as you’re forced to press it down to the ground, stopping yourself from falling face first into the temple floor. Sharp hip bones press into your backside, claws digging into the fat of your ass as your lord swivels his hips.

“I do not care about some damned incense, pet.” Your lord spanks your ass hard, his calloused paw leaving a large mark on your skin. “Nor do I care for your obstinance.” Your lord grasps onto your hips, yanking them back onto his eager cock.

A shiver runs up your spine, feeling your lord’s dick twitching inside you. The head rubs deliciously against your insides, scraping along your walls with each thrust, stretching you beyond limits.

“I don't mean to-” You yelp, your lord spanking you again.

“Yet, you don't give your lord his rightful respect.” Claws scrap along your hip, enough to leave irritated stripes on your skin. “It is your duty as shrine keeper to follow my commands, my wishes.” Your lord leans forward and grabs you by the jaw, forcing to arch your back and press against him. “And my wish is to fuck you without distraction.” Your master begins thrusting faster, wrecking your insides, a gasp tearing from your lips. “Is-” slap, “-that-” slap “understood?”

“Yes, my lord!” Your cry, nails nearly clawing into the concrete as you're overstimulated. Your lord gyrates his hips once he’s balls deep, a deep growl in his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“You are forgiven.” Your lord growls directly into your ear, leaning over your pliant body. His rough tongue licks up your neck, sharp canines dangerously close to your jugular. “Only because you are usually so good for me.”

Its true. Since coming to tend to this temple 2 months ago, you have been an exemplary shrine keeper. You follow your lord’s orders to the T, always diligent and reverent to your god. Falling to your knees when he commands, opening your legs whenever he deems fit. As his subject, your body belongs to your god, an offering he could always indulge in, a hole he could fuck whenever the urge striked him.

You knew what you were signing up for. But you can’t deny your lord’s fervent appetite has made maintaining the temple quite a challenge. You could hardly bend over to scrub the floors without your lord throwing up your robes and indulging in your hole, his covetous hands fondling you at every hour, even when the temple had visitors. The common folk could’t see your god, of course, but still! The impropriety of it all.

Even so, you could hardly complain when your lord brought you to dizzying heights of pleasure. Like right now for example.

“Unggh! How do you stay so tight?!” Your lord calls like an insult, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “I’ve stretched you open so many times, yet you still milk my cock like a virgin sacrifice.”

“I am yours to use, master.” You pant, eyes sparkling with tears and reverence. “I hope to always satisfy you.”

“That you have, pet.” Your lords voice is a purr in your ear. “So obedient. I am rather lucky to have such a pleasant shrine keeper.”

The compliments have you buzzing in happiness, unintentionally clenching harder around your lord’s cock. He growls in your ear.

“C’mere.” He grabs you by the hips and sits himself backwards. Cock still inside you, you are tossed back onto your masters lap, his fluffy white tails now between your thighs. He deftly spins you around, your hands digging into his furry chest.

“Ride me, pet. Consider it a reward for your hard work.”

You nod, body aching and breathless, but immediately bidding to your lords will. Your hips grind down on his lap, ass throwing up and down onto his cock. You sigh as your nails clench into his fur, your God watching your debauched face with a proud smirk. The same claws that left marks now rub comfortably onto your hips, admiring the scars he left on his pet.

“Does that feel good?”

“Y-yes, my lord.” You pant, ignoring the way your thigh muscles scream.You had been gardening today and were already quite sore. But what your lord commands, you do. “Your cock is magnficiient.”

You can practically see the pride light up on your God’s face, so unbefitting of a deity. By now is usually when he lets you off the hook, grabbing your hips and bouncing you like a fleshlight. It can be a bit rough, but at least it’s a break for your poor quads.

But your lord is cocky, bolstered by the compliment, instead resting both paws behind his head. He likes hearing your heavy breaths, seeing the sweat begin to drip down your chest, your eyes clenching shut. He likes to see you work for it. The rush it gives him is incomparable.

He couldn’t have asked for a better shrine keeper, both in dedication and appearance.

“My l-lord, I’m close.”

You whine, a warning courtesy your master demands. You had expected your God to only chase his own pleasure, to use your body like a tool. But your lord seems to delight in your orgasms, insisting you tell him when yhey wrack your whole body, leave you milking his holy cock.

“Yes, my dear, I can feel it.” Your god licks his lips. “Lets cum together.”

You breathlessly nod, forcing your eyes to open, to watch your master as he likes. Like always his gaze is covetous, dark and almost…menacing.

If you were anyone else, you'd think he was a demon, not a god.

“Ohhh!”

You whine as your lord howls, uncaring of any potential passersby. His cock juts against the very edge of your hole, hips thrown up as his cum fills you to the brim. Your muscles tremble as you feel your own crescendo, feeling slowly returning to your extremities.

Your master is gracious, letting you rest on his warm chest, catching your breath. A soft paw rubs the back of your head.

“Rest, pet.” A claw massages the back of your neck. “The chores can be finished tomorrow.”

#my writing #reader insert #gender neutral reader #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #monster romance #monster x reader

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hellwantfuckme · 4 months

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her warmth

summary: Azriel returns injured from a mission, he could have visited Madja, who would make quick work of healing his wounds, he prefers to stay with her, even if it will hurt a little more, as long as the solitary wound lodged in his chest also heals.

warnings: injuries, blood

author's note: Azriel has my heart.

Eclipse's face twisted into a minuscule expression of disgust as she looked at the brutal wound, fifteen centimeters long on Azriel's muscular back, just below his shoulder, a generous space between the gash and his shoulder blades where his wings began. The expression on her face increased, her eyebrows furrowing into a frown.

"Do you still insist on not going to a healer?" Eclipse asked, her voice weak as she saw the blood. A small knot lodged in her throat.

She had had wounds like that on her body a thousand times, and had treated them on her own, miraculously, only one or two had become infected. Eclipse was thankful that Azriel was sitting on the edge of her bed, looking forward, unable to see the slight disgust on her face. She was on her knees just behind him, keeping a reckless distance from his wings. The left wing comfortably stretched across the length of her bed, the other, somewhat more uncomfortable, reaching the headboard. But both were down, relaxed, perhaps. Or maybe he was just so tired that keeping them firm, as he normally did, was heavy. Eclipse had seen him sprawled out on a sofa, totally drunk, and still his wings didn't touch the ground. She had seen him sit on his bed other times, with his wings well tucked against his back.

Eclipse didn't know how to process that information. What it meant. She took a deep breath, cleared her mind. That was something for another time, to think about his body language and analyze it until reaching a thousand conclusions, she would do it later, when the Illyrian was not sitting on her bed. When there were only remnants of his scent left.

"Is it really bad?" Azriel asked, his hoarse voice sending a shiver through her spine and making her heart race. He remained downcast, bone-tired.

She hated seeing him like this, her frown only deepened. She didn't want to acknowledge that the feeling that ran through her veins was raw concern. Eclipse looked at the wound again.

"W-well, yes, it looks pretty bad. When did you get it? A day ago, two?" Eclipse inquired, although by the way the wound looked, it was clear to her that it had been more than 24 hours. She spoke without letting Azriel answer. "From Windhaven to here is two hours, flown two hours and it still hasn't healed on its own, it will need stitches. It looks deep," Eclipse said, voicing what had been going through her mind since Azriel had taken off the leathers covering the upper part of his body and sat on the bed.

The blue-gray light from the faelights gave her perfect illumination, the wing membranes appearing more of a light pink than the usual red.

Azriel stiffened, nerves attacking her, and she tried to keep them buried, push them down. She couldn't help but overanalyze every gesture, every change, to a conclusion that had as many opportunities to be correct as to be miles away from reality.

"Or so I think, I have no idea how Illyrians heal," Eclipse muttered doubtfully. She was no healer, just a twenty-two-year-old girl who had had to heal this kind of wounds more than once. "I don't even know how Faeries... do it. But from the times that..."

"No," Azriel interrupted. "It's... you're right. If it hasn't healed yet, it won't heal on its own."

"You said you've sewn wounds on yourself more than once, right?"

A conversation they had had months ago, Eclipse blinked, the only sign of surprise. She hadn't really thought he would remember it, it had been something she had only mentioned once, less than a minute.

"I could help you with the wound, it's not too late tho, we can still call Madja and..." Her doubts about herself grew denser.

"Can you do it?" Azriel interrupted again, his shoulders rigid.

Eclipse felt the tortured way the words came out of his lips, tense as well.

Eclipse sighed, not thinking too much about the fact that he was indirectly asking her to take care of his wounds, had a kind of meaning. The kind of meaning that Eclipse would spend hours thinking about, hours tossing and turning in her bed repeating every tiny interaction over and over again.

Her hand rested on Azriel's other shoulder, a mere sign of seeking balance as she got out of her bed and headed to the bathroom attached to her room. She didn't stop to think about the much-exposed skin she was showing with that barely thigh-length blue silk nightgown, or the discrete way his eyes roamed the length of her legs, to her exposed collarbones.

She entered and left the bathroom without taking too long, gathering everything she needed.

The House had provided her with a bowl of hot water and a clean cloth, as well as a sterilized needle and thread. And also, herbs that Eclipse knew very well. Yarrow leaves that would prevent bacteria in the wound, marigold flowers that would help with inflammation, and lavender, for the pain. She had prepared this mixture a thousand times, the smell of everything reminding her of all the times she had gotten into street fights, or bar fights, and especially, the scar along her forearm itched with the memory.

She banished the mental image of all the blood and panic she had felt back then. Now she knew what to do, although the fact that she would be treating someone who wasn't herself still sparked a slight panic in her chest. Eclipse filled her lungs with air for six seconds, held it for four, and released it for another six seconds.

«Calm down.»

She carefully left everything on her nightstand, with Azriel's gaze fixed on her, his usually stoic expression interrupted by a slight frown and a very slight pink shade on his cheeks. Eclipse must have imagined it.

She dipped the cloth tip in the hot water, then submerged the fabric a little more until half of it was wet and withdrew it, wringing it to remove the excess water.

Their eyes met for just a second while Eclipse stood up, there was a glimmer in his eyes that she could not decipher. It was incredible how, even without trying to hide his emotions, it was difficult to read him.

Eclipse turned the bed around, got on it, positioning herself just behind him. Her warm, somewhat wet hand from the cloth, touched his shoulder again to recompose properly. Eclipse felt him bristle. She didn't know if it was because of the contact or because she was too close to his wings, either way she backed off a little. Still close enough to easily reach his wound but maintaining a distance between her and his wings.

She cleared her throat.

"It might hurt a little," she said.

"I've dealt with worse," Azriel told her, his voice almost guttural and tense. Eclipse stopped for a second.

Was it the pain? Or perhaps, had he changed his mind about this and wanted to leave? Maybe he had seen her nerves. Maybe the pain clouded his judgment and he hadn't thought it through.

Eclipse heard a sigh escape his nose, and she looked at the wound again, unsure of how to proceed. The idea of reminding him that he could leave if he wasn't comfortable, that they could still call Madja, was a quick order to her vocal cords, and when she was about to speak, Azriel beat her to it.

"How did you learn to heal wounds like this?" he inquired. His voice notably less tense.

Eclipse took it as an invitation and gently placed the cloth over the beginning of his smooth, firm skin break.

"I used to get into fights," Eclipse murmured as the cloth gently crossed the wound, cleaning impurities.

The smell of blood reached her, the blood and the cedar and exhaustion. Eclipse still wasn't used to the fact that emotions gave off a smell, even though she had been Fae for three years, with countless years ahead of her.

"The friends I had were all from extremely questionable security neighborhoods. They solved everything with violence, the slightest offense, the smallest debt…"

Eclipse sighed.

"I've broken my thumb twice punching wrong, and I have thousands of small scars from learning to use a dagger properly. And I've had wounds like this more times than I care to remember," she explained.

She finished cleaning the wound without giving any further explanations, and Azriel didn't speak or make any sounds of pain, he just clenched his jaw so hard she thought a tooth would break. Eclipse remembered how she had screamed, they had made her bite a belt, the first time she had gotten a wound like this and they had simply cleaned it. Although there was also the fact that she had been infinitely gentler cleaning Azriel's wound than her friends had been cleaning hers.

Eclipse got out of bed, leaving the cloth on the nightstand.

The house conjured up another wooden bowl, right next to the herbs. She put each of the herbs in the bowl, poured some hot water over them, and crushed them as best as she could. It took her longer than she would have liked, Azriel's gaze, once again, fixed on her.

"You've broken your thumb twice?" Azriel asked, raising an eyebrow. She saw curiosity and a bit of fun on his face and snorted.

"At least you know how to throw a punch," she joked, halfheartedly.

"If I haven't, are you going to push me into the ring with Cassian and have him yell orders at me?" Eclipse joked.

"Cassian would be too soft for someone who has broken their thumb twice giving a punch, and done it wrong."

"I was fifteen!" Eclipse excused herself, her voice rising only slightly. The corners of his lips curved into a tiny smile. "But I do know how to throw a punch."

"I'd like to see that," Eclipse rolled her eyes; his smile grew slightly broader.

When the ointment was ready, Eclipse positioned herself behind him again. Every time Eclipse saw the wound it seemed to get larger, bloodier.

She applied the ointment carefully on the wound, Azriel let out a small groan of pain, almost imperceptible. Eclipse grimaced and swallowed.

"Sorry," she murmured. When she finished, she looked at the needle. "Could you pass me the needle?"

Azriel handed it over without objection.

"I imagine I don't need to tell you it's going to hurt," she murmured again.

Azriel closed his eyes when the needle pierced his skin, his fists tightened the sheets beneath him.

Eclipse sewed the wound with expert hands, a process that took long minutes until it was closed. Azriel let out a sigh, and she, as gently as she could, bandaged the wound.

"Go see Madja tomorrow morning, Azriel," she practically ordered. He just nodded. Eclipse got off the bed, then, standing in front of him. He straightened up, even when a grimace of pain settled on his face at doing so, just to be able to look at her better. For the first time, he had to lift his chin to look her in the eyes.

Eclipse noticed a few drops of blood staining his face, and her muscles moved without thinking. Azriel spread his knees wide enough to make room for Eclipse between them, while her hand cradled his face, her thumb tracing the dried drop of blood on his cheek.

Azriel inevitably closed his eyes, tilting his face to the incredibly soft touch of her hand.

Her chest filled with warmth.

"You have to rest, Az," she murmured, not breaking the chocolate gaze of the man who seemed so... vulnerable. "My bed is yours if you want it."

He opened his eyes, as if wanting to confirm that she had just said that. That he wasn't imagining it. He blinked.

"Where will you sleep?" he asked, barely more than a whisper.

Eclipse nodded towards the sofa in front of the windows, it was actually large enough for her to sleep well, although she knew she wouldn't. In reality, she didn't know why she had offered it. But she didn't have time to regret it.

"No, I..."

"If you want to stay, you will stay in bed," Eclipse said, her voice firm. Azriel blinked again, surprise disappearing as quickly as it appeared.

Azriel knew it would be tremendously selfish to let the kind woman who had healed him, and who was looking after him right now, sleep on a sofa. But he couldn't leave her warmth, her scent around him. He couldn't bear to return to his room, alone. Just as he had been for five hundred years, because he had discovered that she filled a heavy void in his chest. That there wasn't a corner that felt uncomfortable with her, he couldn't find a flaw in her. Not one.

So he simply nodded. And let himself be taken care of.

#acotar #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #azriel x oc #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x original character #azriel x reader #azriel fluff #azriel x reader fluff #azriel acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar x oc

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merakiui · 2 months

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[01] 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒾𝓇𝑒𝒷𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓉, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓃, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝑔𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓁 𝑔𝒾𝓇𝓁.

villain!azul ashengrotto x magical girl!reader note - welcome to this very impulsive magical girl parody! i'm not sure how many chapters it will be exactly, but i'm looking forward to writing more. i hope you'll enjoy reading! chapter navigation: [01] (you are here) // [02]

Magic is a messy, complex thing.

It can enchant and amaze with beautiful, endless possibilities. It can terrify with traumatic results. Like any sort of power in this world, it is a heavy responsibility for those who wield it. Everything has its dark side; you’re sure the same holds true for magic. No matter how marvelous it may be, surely there exists some shadow.

It’s also something you can’t use, and so the good and the bad don’t really apply to you!

Not that this is cause for envy. Rather, you’re relieved you don’t have to worry about experiencing the problems that accompany magic. You’ve got enough on your plate as it is; magic would only further complicate it. With no other plausible way to return to your world, you’ve had to make your home here on Sage’s Island. It’s an isolated place, boasting two elite magical universities and a bustling town.

It also happens to resemble a chicken wing on maps, so that’s a plus. Truly an ideal getaway! If only you weren’t trapped here indefinitely… Maybe then you’d have better appreciation for it.

As it happens, you’re a janitor living in the abandoned, decrepit dorm on the outskirts of campus. It took a month since you moved in, but you’ve managed to clean it up into a habitable space with the help of its resident haunts. The Headmage hasn’t been very helpful or present since your arrival, and so you’ve had to make do with what little you’ve been given. But for all of his troubling qualities, he isn’t inherently cruel. He’s kind enough to pay you for your services (but then that was only after you threatened him into an agreement), and he doesn’t overwork you (again, this is because you made it abundantly clear you won’t do anything if it violates your own sanity in some way, shape, or form). At least he’s willing to negotiate every time you argue for humane working conditions.

He’s an irksome guy. You can’t believe he has the gall to call himself the ‘embodiment of magnanimity’ when he’s done the bare minimum. Even the ghosts have offered more assistance and they don’t have any sort of authority here! You’re pleased to share a space with them. Sometimes they seem more reliable than the Headmage.

Despite your attempts to acclimate, the illustrious Night Raven College is still a place wholly unsuitable for a magicless human such as yourself. You’re the same age as some of the students here, but they feel like they’re on another level. Flying overhead on brooms, casting spells, mixing up potions… You listen in on some of their conversations while washing windows or sweeping the floors and wonder if all magic schools are this rigorous.

Maybe that’s any school regardless of its curriculum. Any sort of academic pursuit comes with difficulties; that’s normal. But magic is a facet unique to this world. There aren’t any arcane academies where you’re from, but now you wish there were. They seem so fascinating.

“Not much of my problem, though, is it?” you mumble, shaking free of that thought. Being a janitor is great. You can avoid the stress of school and keep up with the gossip exchanged in the halls. It’s like reading the newspaper, only it’s spoken instead of written.

Morning spills through the part in the curtains when you open them. You shut your eyes and bask in the warming glow of a sunshine smooch. It’s going to be another great day—you’re sure of this—and a day as pleasant as this deserves to be lived in its entirety. Perhaps you’ll have a picnic outside or you could even—

BAM.

Your eyes snap open just in time to view the raven who’s slammed itself against the window. Disoriented, it jerks itself up and away from the glass, flapping its wings wildly. You watch its attempts with a pitying frown. And then, inching closer to pull the window open to allow the raven respite, you see it: the blue flames racing towards you at a rapid speed.

With a yelp, you dive out of the way just in time. Due to the forceful blast, the window shatters in a spray of glass. Heat licks at your face, so hot it almost singes your brows, and you stumble to the other side of the room in a panicked daze.

“You lousy bird!” someone exclaims, the words pronounced in a growl. “Get back here so I can nab ya and prove that I’m worthy of bein’ at this school!”

The raven squawks, fluttering wildly about your room. A sleek, obsidian-colored feather floats into your hand. You don’t have time to admire it, for the curtains have just caught fire.

“Come on—I just put those up last week!” you bemoan, looking on in abject horror.

From the opening, a furry creature bursts through. He resembles a grey cat with his short, fluffy stature, but his tail is shaped strangely and there’s blue fire flickering from his ears. The same blue fire he’s currently conjuring in an attempt to catch the raven…

You grab hold of the coat rack—the nearest viable weapon you can think of—and jump in front of him. He startles and leaps back when you swing.

“What’re you doing?! You can’t do that in here! Fuck—my curtains! Don’t light anything else on fire!”

Baffled, the cat-creature scoffs at you. “How was I supposed to know someone’s livin’ in here? Not my fault!”

“It’s a residence! Of course someone lives here! I live here!”

“When they make me the Great Mage Grim, I’ll fix this place up for ya. That’s a promise! I just gotta catch that bird and prove myself a worthy candidate. Just you wait—they’ll be puttin’ my name up in lights!”

“Like hell they will!”

With a devastated groan, you whack the curtains down with the coat rack. They land in a heap, smoke curling from beneath the pile and sliding out the shattered window in dark, wispy tendrils. It takes a frazzled few stomps and smacks before the fire fizzles away, leaving you with charred curtains and the distinct stench of something scorched.

Still panting from the adrenaline rush, you loosen your grip on the coat rack. This is a mess. What am I going to do? I don’t have enough money to fix this!

You turn your hateful scowl on the cat-creature. “You!”

“W-Wait! Wait!” He raises a paw to his lips and gestures towards your bedside table. The raven sits perched, a golden chain wrapped around its neck and an envelope clasped in its beak. In all of the chaos, you must have missed that. “Don’t say a word. It’s right there.”

He approaches stealthily, slow as a sloth, and pounces. He misses narrowly, ending up with a mouthful of feathers instead. The raven caws and takes flight, circling overhead.

He spits feathers. “Myahaha! I got it! I actually—oh. Dumb bird… No one can escape the Great Grim.”

The raven lands on your shoulder next. It cocks its head at you.

“What? Is this for me?” you ask, even though you’re certain of the answer. You pluck the envelope from the raven, who sets to preening itself now that it’s no longer occupied.

“Give it here!” The cat-creature hops up onto your bed, reaching with an expectant paw. “That bird’s got my admission letter!”

“Your letter?” You hold it out of reach and stick your tongue out at him. “No ‘great mage’ sets someone’s home on fire. You’re a subpar mage, if anything.”

“I am not! You just wait—I’ll show you!”

“I don’t want to see anymore.” Turning away, you break the wax seal and procure the parchment waiting within.

He swipes at you impatiently. “Lemme see! What’s it say?”

Written in elegant script, complete with a stamp you’ve never seen before, it looks very official. Whoever wrote it is exceptionally good at cursive, their letters swooping together seamlessly. It’s almost like a decorative artwork with its double-looped O’s and dancing cursive. You marvel at the craftsmanship, wishing your handwriting could look as refined as this person’s.

To whom it may concern, Greetings and congratulations on your admittance into the program! We recognize your outstanding achievements as a model student and believe you have what it takes to do wonderful things. It is with great pride that we bestow upon you a piece of magical history, referred to as The Tried-and-True Trident. You will find it enclosed in this letter.

You look up from the letter just as an aureate necklace lands in your palm. The raven blinks at you once before lifting itself off of your shoulder with a flap of its inky wings. It departs through the window, up into the cloudless, cerulean sky, in a flurry of feathers. There’s a tiny trident pendant hanging from the chain. It winks at you in the light, so shiny you think you might catch your reflection if you stare long enough. You’re not sure what part of it is tried or true, for it looks more like costume jewelry than anything. At least it’s cute. Kind of fashionable, even.

With this historic piece, you are now free to wield the wonders of the sea as you please. You are expected to use these powers to defend those you hold dear from the threat of tragedy. You should have met with your mentor already. If not, we shall send someone to escort you. We look forward to beholding your excellent heroics. Sincerely,

“Gimme that!”

Grim snatches the letter before you can glimpse the name signed at the bottom. The enchanted letter tears in two and then, before both of your eyes, it promptly disintegrates.

You eye the fuzzball with a fresh bout of vitriol. “What did you say your name was again?”

“It’s Grim—the Great Grim—and I promise ya as soon as I—”

“Good. Now I know what name to carve on your tombstone when I put you in the ground for ruining my letter!” You reach for the coat rack, expression ablaze with newfound ferocity.

Grim yelps and scurries away. “H-Hold on! I can fix it!”

“How? It’s ash!”

“Well, what did it say? I’m sure I can explain it to ya!”

“It said something about this necklace. The something-something trident. Protecting loved ones from tragedy. Admittance into some program. A mentor…”

“Mentor… Mentor! Yeah, that sounds about right!” Grim laughs proudly. “Aren’t you in luck, human! I’m gonna be your mentor.”

“Sure you are.” You rest your hand on your hip, brows raised. “The same cat who destroyed my window and curtains is gonna mentor me in whatever this is. Funny story.”

His jaw drops. “A-At least pretend like it’s cool! And I’m not a cat!” He hops off of your bed with a huff. “Ungrateful human. You’re undeserving of the Great Grim’s teaching anyways! I don’t need you!”

“Other way around.”

“You don’t need me!”

“There we go.” You applaud him sardonically. “Look, I don’t know what any of this is. I’m sure it was a mistake. I’m not even a student here.”

Grim, who had been on his way towards the door, halts. He turns to face you slowly. “Yer…not a student?”

“I work here. There’s no way for me to be enrolled here because I can’t use magic.”

“W-Wha—can’t use magic?! Then why did you get in, but I didn’t?!”

You can only shrug. The necklace twists idly when you hold it up for closer inspection. “So this thing is supposed to help me? Hey, Grim, do you know what this is?”

You lower to his height and hold your hand out. He watches you dubiously before approaching and leaning in to sniff at the chain.

“Smells fine to me. Kinda like wet metal.”

“I didn’t ask for a flavor profile.” You heave a tired sigh. The day’s only just begun and you’re already swamped with nonsense. “Maybe that Headmage knows something.”

Grim gasps. “You’re chummy with the Headmage? You think you could talk him into lettin’ me join?”

“Why do you even want in so badly?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m a renowned mage! They should be begging me to join!”

Anyone could’ve sent that letter. It might not even be from the Headmage… If I knew the sender’s name, I could just track them down and ask them.

“You said you wanted to prove yourself, didn’t you?” You offer your hand again, this time to shake on it. “Become my mentor. That’ll show that Crowley you’re plenty capable. Then you can get into this school and I can find a way to return this necklace to its rightful owner.”

Grim folds his arms over his chest, avoiding your hand like it’s the plague. “And what’s in it for me? My services aren’t cheap, y’know!”

“You can live here with me. I’ll find ways to sneak you into the lecture halls if you wanna sit in and observe the class.”

“How about food?”

“Food is…” Nonexistent, really. That cheapskate Crowley! I’ve got to talk him into raising my pay. “I get paid at the end of this week. We’ll have to survive off of what’s in the fridge and the lunch I’m allowed to get from the cafeteria for now.”

Grim’s features soften. “Hm… I guess it’s not terrible. Could be better. But all great mages start from humble beginnings—including myself, but you’d never be able to guess!”

“Right…”

With how carelessly you tossed that fire around, you’re the last mage I should be partnering with.

“Do we have a deal, Grim? You’ll be my mentor and I’ll help you wherever I can.”

Grim places his paw in your palm, his chest puffed out. “You’d better start callin’ me Teacher!”

A smile strains on your lips. “Not happening.”

With a firm shake, your pact is made.

“So what spells do you know? Any that might be able to fix up a window and some curtains?”

“You don’t need those lame spells! The Great Grim can do plenty of other amazing feats.”

“Like?”

“Very amazing feats. Didn’t you hear me?”

“You don’t know anything, do you?”

Grim flinches, guilt flashing across his countenance.

“Is blue fire all you can summon?”

“I… I can do much more! This is just a fraction of my true power! If I had a magestone, this whole spell business would be a lot easier.”

“A magestone? Ah, those things the students have on their pens? I guess that would be helpful. Where can we get one, though?”

“I’d tell ya if I knew.”

“The library might know. If we head there now, we can spend the rest of the morning researching and then we can get lunch.” You reach to fasten the chain around your neck. It’s tucked under your shirt next, safe and sound. “Wait outside for a minute. I’ll change out of my pajamas, clean up the window, and then we’ll be on our way.”

Grim trots out the door without resistance. “I’ll grab a snack from the fridge while yer doin’ all that stuff.”

“One snack! Don’t eat everything!”

But he’s already bounding away, singing as he goes: “Free eats can’t be beat!” Sighing, you shut the door and turn to assess the state of your bedroom. It could be worse. Your bed could have been damaged, or you could have sustained quite the nasty burn.

One mess at a time.

You change into your uniform, which is really just a PE jumpsuit. The same one the students wear. This one has seen better days and it’s a size too big on you, but it’s all Crowley claimed to have on hand when you asked about work clothes. Once again, you soothe yourself with your favorite adage: It could be worse.

You could be homeless. You could be starving. You could be dead.

So it’s not so bad to wear the spare. It’s still got the dorm patch and class numbers sewn onto it, albeit both have worn considerably. Your eyes are drawn to them as you admire yourself in the mirror. Octavinelle Dorm… You’ve heard there are seven dormitories at this school, each based on a historical figure and representing the various spirits of these people. The sorting at the entrance ceremony was something special for the incoming first-years. You’d felt a little awkward to disturb such a grand occasion, even more so when the Dark Mirror announced to a hall full of talented mages that there isn’t an iota of magic in you.

Quite the humbling experience.

But sometimes you wonder which dorm the Dark Mirror would have chosen if your soul was bursting with magical capability.

As of now you’re a faux member of Octavinelle—whatever that implies.

By the time you’ve managed to sweep the glass, dispose of the ruined curtains, and patch the window with a temporary placeholder—what a relief for pasteboard and masking tape—Grim’s nearly through the few items left in your fridge. You yank him away just as he reaches for a container of leftovers.

“If you eat too much, you’ll spoil your lunch.”

“Can’t imagine that problem.”

“You sound so proud of your bottomless stomach.”

“And you’re not?”

You roll your eyes and tug your sneakers on. “Let’s be off.”

“How’re we gonna sneak me in?”

“How do you feel about becoming my temporary purse pet?”

Grim looks unimpressed when you hold your tote bag open for him. “No way!”

“It has lots of space and it’s stylish. Besides, shouldn’t your dedicated student pay proper respect to her great, glorious mentor?”

He doesn’t bother hiding his approving smirk. “Well, when ya put it like that…”

After Grim clambers into your bag, you lock the front door behind you and set off for campus.

“Please don’t blow our cover, Grim.”

From within the depths of your tote, he scoffs. “The Great Grim is the stealthiest mage you’ll ever meet!”

“I highly doubt that.”

It’s the second time you’ve found yourself in the library, but it’s still just as impressive as ever. You could spend hours here, wandering between shelves and skimming all sorts of tomes. Some of them are written in languages you can’t decipher, so you observe the pictures provided in hopes of gleaning any clues. Grim lounges on a chair beside you, absentmindedly turning through a thick textbook. You managed to find a relatively isolated corner in the very back and it’s not especially busy today. The promise of a hearty lunch keeps him well-behaved.

“Find anything?”

“Nothin’ important. Ugh. This stuff is the worst! Why can’t a magestone fall from the sky? That’d be a whole lot easier than this.”

“It sucks, yeah, but what else can we do?” You rest your face against your palm and scan through yet another page of information. “Let’s keep looking. I’m sure we’ll find something useful.”

“Nngh… I’m hungry.”

“You just ate.”

“That was hours ago!”

“Has it really been that long?”

“Feels like it.”

You lean back in your chair and stretch, listening to the satisfying snap of your joints as they crack into place. “Can you understand any of these words?”

“Most of ’em.”

You point to a specific place in the paragraph. “Can you tell me what this one means? I think I’ve got the general idea based on the graphics, but I could be wrong.”

Grim glances at it, his blue hues waltzing across the page. “It’s about merfolk.”

“Merfolk? They exist in this world?” And then you pause to gather your delayed thoughts. “Never mind. That would make sense.”

“What about ’em?”

“Where I’m from, merfolk aren’t real. They’re fiction.”

“Huh. A place without any merfolk… Bet they don’t have anyone like me either. I’m one of a kind!” Grim chuckles. “So where’re you from?”

You open your mouth to respond, but the sound of approaching footsteps interrupts. You usher Grim under the table, who goes but not without protest. He ducks under just in time, hiding within the shadows. A student rounds the corner and stops short when he sees you. He’s holding a few books in his arms, each looking more heavy than the last.

“Ah,” the both of you say in unison.

He clears his throat and offers you a cordial nod. “I wasn’t aware someone had already claimed this corner.”

You eye him carefully. He looks familiar. Glasses. Silvery-grey hair. Blue eyes. Where have you seen him before?

“It’s all yours. I was just leaving.” You move to stand, but he steps closer.

He peers at the open textbook lying in front of you. A smile you can’t quite classify as friendly spreads on his lips. “Is that so? You seem especially engrossed in this book.”

“I like to stay educated.”

I genuinely can’t understand a word in this text.

“On the anatomy of merfolk?”

You shut your mouth at once. That’s what this is? No wonder the diagrams looked…unique. But you’re too committed to your story to falter now.

“Especially the anatomy of merfolk.”

The student chuckles, but it sounds hollow to your ears. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you before. You’re in Octavinelle?”

You gape at him like a fish out of water before realizing the jumpsuit and its patch. “Oh! Ohhh, no, not at all. This is an old uniform.”

He looks at you with more scrutiny until it clicks. “I remember now. You’re the magicless girl who so carelessly interrupted—ah, forgive me—fortuitously appeared during the entrance ceremony last month.”

What a little fake. You narrow your eyes at him, suddenly defensive. Now you’re made aware of who he is. He was one of the few in the audience during your awkward arrival. Back then, he was clad in a robe with his hood up and so you only caught sight of his glasses and the swoop of his silvery-grey hair peeking out. You’re certain this is the same guy. You could’ve said that without the backhanded barb.

“So my reputation precedes me.”

He smiles and shakes his head. “I disagree. You’re still quite the mystery.”

“Well, there’s nothing to solve.” You rise from your seat, reaching for your bag. “I’m just a janitor trying to get by.”

He hums. You can’t decipher the meaning in that, but you don’t particularly care enough to drive yourself mad over it. You feel around on the chair for Grim. He was just here a moment ago…

You drop to your knees to check under the table. Your heart plummets into your stomach.

Grim, you had one job!

“Is something the matter?”

You pop up from beneath the table so fast that your head knocks into it. “Shit! Ow! Yeah, no, I’m fine. I thought I dropped my pencil.”

You scan the rest of the space as discreetly as you can. The student watches you. You don’t like the way he seems to stare through you as if intending to gain access to your very soul. As if he sees something you don’t.

“Have a wonderful day. Study hard. Pass your tests. Get—uh—the scholarship or whatever.”

Flashing him your most nonchalant grin, you make your way down the aisle at a pace that is the exact opposite of relaxed. There’s no time to dwell on that off-kilter exchange. You’ve got a runaway cat-creature in dire need of capture!

The one day I take off and it’s the day my window’s ruined, I get a weird letter, and my new roommate is missing. That’s horrible luck!

You walk briskly through the library, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. Grim couldn’t have gotten far. You were only distracted for a few minutes, and the library is huge. Perhaps he’s just lost and waiting in place for you to find him. For some reason you can’t fool yourself into believing this train of thought.

Your search takes you out of the library and down the hall. Where could he have possibly gone? Surely he didn’t make his way back to Ramshackle. You check the time on your watch. It’s almost lunch.

Lunch! Of course!

You hurry towards the cafeteria with rekindled purpose.

I’m going to start calling him Gluttonous Mage Grim if he makes this a habit!

Fortunately, Grim is predictable. You’ve only known him for a day—not even—but it’s not so difficult to pinpoint his location after you’ve worked out his motivations. Unfortunately, you make it to the cafeteria just as the grand chandelier falls from its support in the ceiling, crash-landing in a broken heap. And standing just feet away from the damage, looking very guilty, is Grim alongside two students you’ve never seen before. Crowley’s there as well, just as frazzled as the feathers on his coat. He’s in the middle of lecturing them about the importance of this relic—how it’s been with the school since it was founded and it’s an irreplaceable piece that would cost over a billion Madol to fix—when he takes notice of you.

“(Name), it’s devastating! A most heart-wrenching tragedy! Why, it’s enough to bring one to tears.”

“Seems so…” You shoot Grim a vicious look. So much for being covert. Not so stealthy now, huh? “I’ll get the broom.”

“No, not yet. These three—” he turns towards them, yellow eyes fierce— “are expelled!”

“Expelled?!” the navy-haired student exclaims. He looks like he’s just stared Death in the face. “This can’t be… What will my mother think? I promised her I was gonna get good grades, attend all of my classes, pass my tests…”

“Hey, it’s not my fault. That hairball’s the one who started it!” the other argues, his arms folded over his chest.

“No way! It wasn’t me!”

Crowley clicks his tongue. “Unbelievable. This school has zero tolerance for blatant tomfoolery. Surely you’re all aware…” He pauses to look at Grim. “And you! You’re not even a student here! Just what are you doing, trespassing on school property?”

Grim flounders dizzily. “Spinning…”

“He’s my roommate.” All eyes flick towards you. “I’m letting him stay for now. Sorry if that breaks any rules. I just don’t believe in turning others away, even if they’re prone to causing trouble.”

“What a noble soul,” Crowley murmurs, impressed. “Well, if that’s the case, seeing as he’s nothing more than a talking pet cat—”

“I ain’t a pet or a cat!”

“I’m afraid my previous statement still remains in place. He’s not to be on school grounds.”

“You heard the Headmage. No school for you.”

But Grim’s already lying flat on the floor like a defeated pancake.

“Then what about us? That hairball can’t get the easy way out and leave us with the worst of it!”

“There’s a way to fix this, isn’t there?”

“Y-Yeah! Can’t you just use magic to fix it right up? It’ll be good as new. Someone with your skill should be able to do it.”

Crowley shakes his head, mournful. “Magic is not limitless. Not only that, but the magestone powering this great chandelier is cracked. And those are not so easily replaced. I fear this is the final day this miraculous chandelier will ever grace this grand hall with its light.”

The ginger-haired student grimaces. “Not good…”

The other withers. “Expelled… What am I going to do? I can’t go back home with this news!”

A magestone… That’s what Grim needs. You glance at the one set into the chandelier. A ghastly crack runs up the surface. Are they really that special?

Before both can succumb to their melancholy, Crowley says, “There is one way! Possibly…”

“Really? What is it?” they say at once, eyes bulging with hope.

“This very magestone was mined from the Dwarfs’ Mine. Perhaps, should you procure one of similar qualities, the chandelier can be repaired.”

“Then… Okay! I’ll get a magestone! As long as it’s all right with you, sir.”

“Ah, but the mines have been closed for some time. I reckon the magestones are all but gone.”

“I’m sure I can find one. Please, sir, I’ll do anything to stay here!”

Crowley seems to consider this. Eventually, he nods his approval. “I’m willing to postpone your expulsion for now.” The navy-haired student’s relief is short-lived when he adds, “However, if you fail to bring a magestone to me by the first rays of the morning sun, it will be expulsion for the both of you. No further exceptions.”

With a hasty nod, he says, “Of course! I understand! Thank you so much for the second chance. I won’t let you down!”

“Yeah, sure. Let’s get this over with.”

You gather an unconscious Grim in your arms while Crowley instructs the students on how to access the mine. They stride off with different degrees of enthusiasm. You open your mouth to ask permission, but Crowley beats you to it.

“Please do accompany them. I trust you’re responsible enough to handle any trouble?”

“If you raise my pay, I’ll do anything.”

He clutches his chest. “Your proclivity to bargain strikes through to my very soul! Ah, but since I am the kindest Headmage I shall grant your request.”

With a satisfied grin, you hold Grim tighter and run off after the pair. “Thanks again, Headmage!”

You follow them all the way to the Mirror Chamber. It’s just as imposing as you recall, but there’s a serene quality to the space that wasn’t there before. Maybe it’s because you’re here willingly and there isn’t an audience to witness your poorly timed debut.

You approach both of them. “Hey! Sorry to bother, but could I join you?”

They turn to look at you. Grim shifts in your arms, groaning.

“I don’t see why not. Welcome to the team,” the navy-haired student says with an awkward smile.

“Might as well. More people means a faster chance at finding that magestone.” He points at Grim next. “And he better be coming, too.”

“That’s the plan. I’ll make sure he won’t cause any problems for you.”

He sighs and shakes his head. “Today’s just not my day. What bad luck…”

“No time to sulk. We’ve gotta get that magestone,” the other says, turning towards the mirror. “Dark Mirror, the Dwarfs’ Mine!”

Grim jerks awake then. “Myaah?! Where am I? What’s goin’ on?”

You hold onto him tightly, preventing him from squirming out of your arms. “Relax. You’ll be fine. I think.”

“What d’ya mean by that?!”

The Dark Mirror brightens with life. There’s a blinding flash of light and then, just like that, you’re taken to the mine’s entrance.

Magestone, here we come!

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul x reader #marvelous marine magic: sweet sea sorceress #3M:3S #3M:3S chapter one

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 7 months

Note

Soft moments with Rudy after he is rescued by Alejandro and brought to the safe house? Small angst because Rudy could have died and the reader is in love with Rudy but it turns soft.

—A Love Like Ours Makes Us Strong

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Rodolfo came back, alive but bruised. How do you explain how terrified you were?] ❞

You silently clean your guns, moving the oiled rag over the blackened pieces laid out over the old crate of a makeshift table. Leaning against the wall, your eyes are always drawn back to the mess of a man sleeping in the cot across the room.

He could have died.

Sighing, you shake your head, pacing down the part you hold in favor of another, not stopping until every speck of dirt is gone. You could only do so much to distract yourself from the terror you’d felt when everything went wrong—from the knee-shaking relief when Alejandro had brought Rudy back to you. There were so many emotions, that the concoction in your veins had left you numb.

Quite the dichotomy, no?

“He wouldn’t want you to strain yourself, you know?” Even now the Colonel is trying to get you to rest. How can you when the man you love is battered and bruised?

Your vigil had started the moment he had been dragged through these safehouse doors.

Alejandro’s serious expression shows itself as he walks forward, arms crossed. You hum, shrugging.

“It’s reckless,” he utters, words firm.

“It’s instinct,” you reply, glancing up slowly. “How long until others get here and we can get him proper care?”

“He’s going to be alright. No one keeps him down for long—not Rudy.”

“I’m not asking that,” you mutter under your breath, taking up another piece of black metal before Alejandro comes over and steals it out of your grip. Your lids pull in a glare, looking over at him heatedly.

“Ale—”

“You need rest,” he says, his brown eyes not letting up. A smirk flickers across his lips, teasing softly as one would a sister. “Do not make me order you away, eh? We both know that will only end in bloodshed.”

“From me or you,” you grumble, sighing.

He wasn’t wrong—you’d been up far too long to be alert anymore; doing mindless tasks with the hope of keeping your mind off of your inner battle. The same battle that had been going on for months now—years.

You loved Rodolfo. Alejandro knew it, the men knew it, hell, even Rudy himself probably knew it, but it wasn’t like it was something you could help. It had just…happened.

“Me, probably,” Alejandro chuckles smoothly, moving away and placing your belongings down. He spares you a glance as he walks back to his position near the front door as a lookout. “I won’t get in the way of your anger any day soon, no. I quite like my life, you see.”

“Well,” you rub at your face. “I can’t call you dumb, then.”

His short laugh is what you hear as you walk over to Rudy’s cot, taking a moment to look down at him as he sleeps.

The man has bandages and gauze wrapped around his arms—one on his neck as well. He had a cut on his forehead, too. Not deep enough for stitches, but it had still been cleaned and the invisible trace of medical tape was pulling at his skin near the sharp angle of his eyebrows. Reaching a hand out hesitantly, you brush your fingers through his dark hair and watch his slightly tight face loosen, his puffing breaths evening out in his chest.

Your face softens at that, but your sentiency soon snaps you out of your trance; imagining how strange you look as you quickly turn away and walk to the corner of the safehouse.

Grumbling, you settle back against the wall and lean your scalp into the wood, crossing your arms before you let the darkness settle in around your eyes like a veil.

But who were you kidding, all of your dreams just led back to him anyway.

When you wake back up, there’s soft talking before the front door of the safehouse closes on its rusty hinges, a silence re-settling that almost allows you to fall back to sleep if not for the limping footsteps that trail over to you. A hand curls your legs and the width of your shoulders, and with a low grunt, you’re picked up and carried somewhere.

When your head hits the fabric of the cot, your eyelids flutter half-open.

“I know you’re not switching me out, Rodolfo. Get back in here—you’re injured.”

A sheepish face comes into view.

“I…I didn’t know you were awake.” You frown, hand coming up to rub at your face and clear the blurriness of your vision. “But, really, I’d prefer it if you have it. I’m feeling better, and I don’t want you to have to sleep on the ground.”

Perhaps the fatigue had lowered your inhibitions.

“Get in,” you huff, scooting over. There’s a pause from the man, his eyes blinking in confusion for a moment.

“Say again?”

“You heard me. Get in.”

“That’s not necessary—I’m fine out here, you see?”

“I love you,” you whisper, eyes glinting as they try to stay awake. Rudy’s body goes as straight as a board, his eyes so wide they could be saucers—his lips are slightly parted as if to say something before you order again. “So get in and hold me.”

For a long time, nothing happens, and then a soft huff of laughter makes your lips twitch as a hand brushes your cheek. A small utterance from the Sergeant Major.

“Quite the way to tell a man, no?”

“You did almost die.” You say, falling deeper and deeper by the second.

“Ah,” Rudy mutters, guilt in his tone as he moves closer, slipping into the cot beside you with a grunt that reverberates in his chest. “I’m sorry.”

You hum, feeling his arms wrap around you.

“Can I…kiss you?” He asks.

You smile and sit right on the cusp of sleep.

“You better,” your words are slurred, and just before you fall back into nothingness, the warm press of delicate lips falls to your forehead.

“I love you too.”

259 notes · View notes

waklman · 11 months

Text

The Showoff

summary: jake likes to show you off or you learn why jake keeps protein bars he’s allergic to in his bag.

pairing: jake seresin x female reader

warnings: no use of y/n. fluff, allergic reaction, mentions of dying, jake being a little mean for a second. 18+ blog in general.

word count: 1k

olympic swimmer au

the halfway mark masterlist

Jake Seresin had virtually every reason to be a show off.

The moment his muscled body hit the water, he was truly unmatched—a force to be reckoned with—a smug face you wouldn’t want to see stretching in the lane beside you. If his name merely floated into the ears of elite coaches, the rival teams they managed were in for it on training days. But no matter how many grueling drills their swimmers were pushed to do, they could never truly emerge as a threat to the United States team.

So, the heavily decorated athlete never faltered, not when he knew his country dominated every arena they strode into.

However, Jake did falter when he was too busy boasting, that he didn't think to check the peanut butter protein bar that his giggly girlfriend was happily feeding him. There weren’t many things that could render the Olympiad breathless, though, you wearing his gold medals did, that was a given. But, peanuts—his worst food allergy to date, that was also a given.

Before Jake could tell you how his coach had no critique for his freestyle stroke, the walls of his throat started to close in on him—leaving him quite literally breathless.

To his disbelief, you were so distraught that you had to stab your boyfriend with an EpiPen, that your mind simply erased the memory of you coming to his rescue.

Even when he spent half an hour swiping away the fattest tears he’s ever seen off your cheeks, you were still adamant that you most definitely killed him. That he refused to move onto the afterlife because he wanted to look after you.

“Giggles, you need to calm down. I’m not dead,” he firmly assures you, for what feels like, the hundredth time this afternoon.

If Jake had to sit on the edge of the pool any longer, legs submerged into the water, his toes might as well shrivel off, separate from his feet, and find its final resting place on the pool floor.

Straddled on his lap sits his teary-eyed girlfriend, tracing a trembling finger over the Olympic rings tattooed under his left pec. “What if…you’re just a ghost right now,” you hiccup, eyes still trained on the red ink you’re drawing over.

“If I was a ghost I’d be haunting Bradshaw right about now,” he confirms bluntly, eyes running over your stuffy nose and puffy eyes. It looks like you’re the one that just had an allergic reaction.

You sniff, feeling a bit lightheaded when you lift your chin to look at him.

“But…Casper the ghost—”

“Alright, that’s enough. I ain’t getting myself compared to that pale freak,” he cuts you off, pulling his arena jacket back up your droopy shoulders. Splashed across the back of the official team jacket is Jake Seresin written in white blocky letters, contrasting against the navy blue of his flag colors.

A weary sigh leaves his lips when the reprimand only makes you weakly fall forward, stuffing your face into the crook of his neck. Then, another flow of tears slip out of your eyes, wetting his shoulder.

It should’ve been obvious to him that you were sensitive enough to start crying again. Jake should’ve known that—should’ve watched his tone with you. But he didn’t. And for that, he feels like a complete asshole.

Carefully, he wraps an arm around you, bicep flexing to ensure that you won’t fall backwards into the pool. Jake is acutely aware that you can’t swim—or float on your own, so he scoots away from the water, petting the back of your head to signal the sudden movement.

“It wasn’t your fault, Gigs,” he finally whispers, staring ahead at the floating ropes, separating the swim lanes. Months ago, Jake had been hanging onto one of them, playfully arguing with Bradshaw during practice when he spotted you for the first time, sitting in the stands with the coach’s daughter, peanut butter protein bar held up to your smiley mouth.

“Yes it was. It's all my fault. I packed your lunch today,” you’re quick to blame yourself, mumbling guiltily against his tan skin.

“Actually,” he lets out a soft breath of amusement, coaxing you off him. With his hands moving to cradle your head, Jake intently cools your hot cheeks with his thumbs. Somehow, they're still cold from the frigid waters soaking his legs.

“I might have snuck those into my bag when you were busy adding Taylor Swift to my playlist,” he confesses, pulling your face closer in to kiss away a tear that formed in the corner of your eye.

Not quite sure if you heard those words right, you keep still as he leans back and cocks his head at you, waiting for a reaction to load in.

Once it all hits you, you slap your own hands on his cheeks, holding his head between your smaller palms. Now the both of you are grabbing onto eachother's heads. “Why on earth would you do that!”

There’s not one plausible reason for him to purposefully toss that in with his ham and cheese sandwich. Did he not like what you made for him today? Was that it? Or did it just slip his mind that peanut dust could take him out faster than a bullet can?

“You’re—you’re allergic to peanuts! And you hate the chalky taste of protein bars!” You exhaustedly remind him, more confused than ever.

There’s a crooked, and somewhat bashful smile on his face when you widen your eyes at him. Sheer horror is written across your features, leaving you oblivious to the gradual heat that colors his cheeks.

“Okay, but. Don’t you like them? I wasn’t gonna let my girl starve while I ate like a king,” he gives you a offhanded shrug, as if he wasn’t practically contaminating his own food by squeezing the protein bar next to it.

It’s silent for a few seconds while you two stare at each other—until your face suddenly scrunches up, bottom lip starting to wobble, and tears beginning to drip onto his thigh.

You can't help but to cry at the small gesture. Because Jake knows how much you love snacking on something he was deathly allergic to. Because Jake loves you enough to remember that. Because Jake doesn't care if it could hospitalize him if he kissed you while you ate it.

“No, no—hey quit crying,” he laughs, chest warming when you weep tears of happiness this time.

The athlete barely flinches when a confused Bradley and Bob walk through the locker room doors, clearly confused by the sight of their teammate chuckling as his girlfriend sobs in his lap, blubbering about peanuts.

All because, Jake Seresin likes to show off his pretty girlfriend—pathetically drowning in her own tears or not. When he goes to kiss the tears away again, Jake thinks that he has virtually every reason to be a show off.

note: okay i love them so much, i've been wanting a grumpy jake x sunshine reader on my blog for awhile so here they are!! thank you for reading and as always reblogs are greatly appreciated.

join the taglist for this series here or follow me on @waklman-library and turn on notifs to be notified when i post!

tags: @genius2050 @eli2447 @s-u-t @dempy @averyhotchner @et-homephone @olymosity @wkndwlff @cruelmissdior @eternallyvenus @laneylovesglen @queerqueenlynn

#jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin au #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x you #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin oneshot #jake hangman x you #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman x y/n #jake hangman fic #jake hangman imagine #tgm au #tgm fic #the halfway mark

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vitaminseetarot · 1 month

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Lenormand PAC: Messages From the Eclipsed Sun 🔆🌑😎

Sup y'all. Welcome to my lil end-of-March reading! Thank you for voting in the polls for April's next PAC topic for the 1 year special, which will be coming up next. Also thank you very, very much once again for participating in my 2nd tarot game! I'm still answering feedback and I'm glad so many of you enjoyed it as I did. I'm looking forward to the next game in summer (possibly a Midsummer game? 🧚‍♀️🐈🎶☀)

I was shuffling my Alchemy Elements deck and noticed that three random cards I pulled out were from the Sun suit (the four suits in this oracle are Moon, Sun, Star, and Earth). I had no topic in mind, so I allowed different mystery messages to come through. These light messages will be relevant to you as you pass through the new moon solar eclipse and all through the next lunar month.

Pick which one of the three sun cards resonates with you:

Flower 💐 Animal 🐎 River 🌊

Pile 1. Flower 💐

Gratitude, Bird of Paradise, Knowledge; Mountain, Astral Travel, Tower, Promise, Garden

The world outside is calling you, pile 1. You can't smell the roses blooming if you keep containing yourself under the roof. The beautiful days want you to explore and wander like a child discovering nature for the first time. Perhaps there are flowers you've never seen up close, maybe it's been a while since nature gave you new things to learn and marvel. Botanical gardens are filled with surprises, as are concrete cracks in the city.

Your hands seem too easily tied up in the working world, fulfilling task after task as if every day was meant to be the same. I see a person staring outside their cubicle, wondering when they'll find the time to make it to the park. Wondering when they'll be able to go to that fair, or practice surf lessons. Wondering, hoping, dreaming of the day when the walls can come down, and there will be no separation between daily life and the life filled with endless creative possibilities, waiting to be picked and weaved into crowns.

The path is neither just up ahead, nor light years away; it's right in front of you now. Accept the moment you find yourself in, even if it's impossible, because the surprises you are looking for are already surrounding you. It may feel like you have to climb far to see any hope of change, but you're asked to find stillness and beauty hidden within the climb. Even if you're not wandering through a field of wildflowers yet, there may be chance blossoms within your reach. Be thankful for the present peace you find. Ivy wraps around ivory walls; nature will find a way to you.

Wherever you intend to go, you may need to leave behind the opinions of others that don't help or encourage you. Let them have their perspectives, for they have their own paths to walk. You have yours waiting just outside the door. The light outside may overwhelm you, but it beckons you to appreciate what it has in store for you. So much more awaits you. But what you have today is just as beautiful.

Pile 2. Animal 🐎

Balance, Lenten Rose, Insight; Letter, Mirage, Heart, Bouquet, Moon

I hope the sun brings you brighter days, pile 2. There are friends (including animal friends!) who want to bask under the warm luminous skies with you. This time encourage us to stretch our arms out, walk with an extra skip, and enjoy what tomorrow has in store. However, there is anxiety keeping you held in, preventing you from racing ahead. You are being called to expand, move your body, and find ways to embrace joyful freedom more.

Before email and mail trucks were a thing, we had pony mail, which could take weeks to arrive to your mailbox. The information you're receiving doesn't match up to the reality you're soon living in. By the time you're reading the newspaper you have, another one will be on its way, contradicting the one in your hands. Reading over and over can help us feel ready to take on the world, but does it? Or is it keeping you in a loop of confirming news that confirms the news that conforms to the news you're expecting?

Newsflash: the most important place, the space that occurs before it's recorded in the papers, is the place your attention should focus on. If you can meet up with your friends in person, try hanging out with them outside of chatting online. Allow yourself to experience life alongside someone, to feel the wind in your hair as they drive; if you have a pet, spend an afternoon with them on a long walk. A friendly person who can help you desires connection.

Life is a mix of bright and sunny days, mixed with cloudy and rainy days. There are days to be serious and days to be goofy. There are times to stay at home online and times to go out with others. There are moments to feel sadness and worry, and moments of humor and happiness. Take it easy on yourself, pile 2, and whatever topic has you fixated on it, allow yourself the chance to step outside, walk away, and feel the light of the sun and moon on your face.

Pile 3. River 🌊

Desire, Cyclamen, Reminiscence; Tree, Protection, Animus, Star, Crossroads

It's okay to not know everything about your path ahead, pile 3. You may be figuring things out as you go along, without any set marker. You're being reminded that whatever path you take, things will turn out okay. Many twists and turns can make a long river, but you will be prepared. It's safe to keep moving in the flow with the currents. When the rolling waves seem slow and steady, it's best to ride along with it, for you have more time than you think to row through.

At times you may desire to keep your boat docked, unable to leave the shore and its many amenities. You may look back on what you used to love (or perhaps found addicting) and wish it were easier to wave it away. Don't be afraid to take souvenirs with you, to remind you of the good times you had. It'll make the transition smoother for when it's time to depart to your next destination. Big changes often require carrying things lightly.

Your north star is shining its beacon out to you. To find it, you must make it; to make it, you must find it. You must set your course by getting clear on where you most want to go. No one else can make this choice for you, for it's your unique trip. The map is with you, provided to you by years of experience and growth. There may be many different distractions, and it's okay to stop to them first just to explore instead of making it to the end goal right away. It's all part of your grand adventure, and the many secrets and surprises make it all the more exciting..

When there's a wish, there's a way. You have the drive within you to set sail towards your greatest yearning in life. Even if it doesn't seem it, you are able to channel the bravery and passion from within. When the skies are dark and you cannot navigate with the stars, you can look to the light beaming out from your soul to find your own way.

This reading has not been evaluated by the FDA to diagnose, prevent, treat, or cure any disease or infection. Please ask your physician before going online.

2024, @VitaminseeTarot ™

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kurooandkenmasslut · 1 year

Note

May I request some fluff with Rengoku, please. I’ve been feeling a bit down in the dumps so I wanted to have some nice, sweet, fluff with my flame boi ☺️

Take your time with this, don’t rush!

have a nice day!

Omg ofc baby!!! I hope you enjoy :))

RENGOKU KYOJURO X F!READER

Mission after mission after mission after Misson. Your sure your crow got sick of looking at you because of how many times he had to come to you for a mission.

You yawned and stretched your aching muscles. Your finally going home after about a month or two, you can't remember and you can't be bothered to use your brain to figure it out. Your legs trembling with ever forward step. You missed your boyfriend, like badly. You can't wait to jump in his arms, sit and eat with him as he yells 'umai!' at every bite. You missed it, and you were ready to get back into it.

"I'm home!" You called out. No response. You sighed. As expected. He is the flame hashira after all. Your feet dragged yourself to the bathroom, your body craving for some hot water to relax your tense shoulders.

You got some hot water and filled the bath up. When it came to the height that you wanted, you undressed and sunk yourself in. It felt amazing. After so many cold nights in the forest, having some warmth in a while is refreshing!

After a long soak and washing your hair and body, you hopped back out, the steam in the room making you feel hazy. You wrapped yourself in a towel before opening the door and walking into the hallway towards your shared bedroom.

After getting changed into your pajamas, as soon as your body hit the bed, you knocked out.

You woke up to warm hands on your back, your eyes adjusting to the light, blinking repeatedly.

"Wake up sunshine! Looks like your finally up!" Kyojuro cheered. "..kyo?" You mumbled. "Yes! We are going to visit senjuro and my father for dinner!" Whoch made you jolt. "DINNER?! AT WHAT TIME?!" "hm about an hour!! 😀"

You scrambled to your room to get changed as kyojuro laughed at your panicked face. After you got changed and ready, you left your bedroom to tell kyojuro that you were ready. But what you didn't expect, was kyojuros big arms to pick you up bridal style, making you latch onto his neck with a yelp. He seemed to enjoy it because as soon as he knew that you were in his arms and secure, he started running full speed towards the flame estate, where senjuro and his father lived.

As soon as he got to the front, he halted and looked down at your dizzy face. "I hope I didn't go too fast, did I?" "No... no.. i-its okay.." you mumbled as you tried to get your head still. Kyojuro slowly let you down onto your trembling legs, holding his right shoulder for support.

It seemed senjuro seen you two at the gate because he ran out and hugged kyojuro tightly. "Welcome back, brother." He muttered in his neck. "It's glad to be back! I've brought (name) with me!" "Oh! Hi (name)" "hey senjuro!"

After all the greeting, he welcomed you both in for dinner since he was just finished making it.

"Wow senjuro! Your cooking skills are amazing! I just wish kyojuro would take the cooking skills from you since the last time he cooked he almost burned down the-" "UMAI! and that was a one time thing (name)!" He claimed as you giggled along with senjuro.

"Oi! Is this dinner ready! You take too long!" You heard a grumpy and raspy yell interrupt. "Oi! Kyojuro! What's she doing here again! I thought I said to get her out!?"

Ah, that reminds me. The first time you've met kyojuros father was not the best encounter. As soon as he saw you and froze. His eyes widened at your frame before be blinked and his eyebrows furrowed. You froze. You didn't even breathe. You remember in the pit of your stomach of how nervous you were, but you remembered that kyojuro told you that his father was.. a bit rude.

Last time, he only yelled at you, trying to hold your tears back. But kyojuro told him to stop, and thankfully he did, grumbling out the door and down to the town for more sake.

But this time, he tried to lay his hand on you, and this time, Kyojuro Rengoku, went mad.

"Get out of my hou-" "get your hands off her." Kyojuro sternly said, not only were you scared of his dad, but you were scared of kyojuro in that moment. He'd always had a smile on his face, no matter what. So seeing his eyes burn, glare, into his father's eyes, his hand tightening around his wrist, pulling him away from you. His smile now no longer upwards, now downwards, his teeth gritting hard in anger.

Kyojuro didn't want this. He wanted a family dinner with you, senjuro and him. Abd possibly his father. But since he obviously ruined the mood, the comfortable, peaceful, and joyful mood in the air has now fallen into a room where its almost like there's no air, tension think.

Senjuro was only watching in disbelief, shock, and confusion on why his father was acting likr this towards you. He knew that his father was violent, toxic, and cold. But he didn't expect and want this to happen to you. He felt like he wanted to collapse and press his forehead against the hard floor, apologising for his behaviour. But he knew that he couldn't do anything, if he interfered, he knew that he'd get hurt.

Kyojuro finally left go of his wrist. "We're going now. Goodbye senjuro, the meal was lovely." He said, hugging him before letting go and taking your hand softly and taking you with him.

The walk was silent, surprisingly. Whenever you walked with kyojuro, he always had something to talk about, it could be about his missions, his good recommendations, the hashiras, or some gossip. But the silence made you feel uneasy, so you opened up your mouth to apologise but it looks like he beat you to it.

"I'm sorry. It wasn't supposed to end like this, I didn't expect him to lash out at you, more in a violent way I mean. I expected and wanted a lovely dinner with my brother, and my love of my life. I'm sorry for my father's actions, I'm really-" "okay okay, I get it, you can stop saying sorry now dear." "But-" "kyojuro. Its really okay, I'm not hurt or anything. I knew that your father would lash out at me like he did last time, so I prepared for it. I can tell that he has a lovely kind soul under that angry face, I just know it."

Kyojuro smiled, and not it in his usual smile. More like a loving smile, his eyes having hearts in it, his heart beating loudly. He really did love you, he really really, really did. He'd give you his life and heart for you, and he knows you'd do the same.

"Okay, I know I already said sorry, but I feel like it isn't enough so-" "kyo! What did I say-" "darling, please. I wanna spoil you rotten for what happened." "Kyo you really don't have to," "I want to." You sighed as you gave in, you already knew that he wouldn't let you say no.

He took you around the town, some food stands catching your eye.

"Arghhhh I'm so fullllll!" "That's what you get for eating so much" "hey! You ate the same amount as me! How are you not full?!" "I've just got a big stomach!" You laughed at what he said. He really did have a big stomach, after all, he often ate with mitsuri, so it's not really a big surprise to you.

When you two got home, you ran over to the bed, flopping onto it. "Haha! Aren't you tired hunny bunny!" "Hunny bunny?-" "yes! I'm gonna name you that because you ate some bunny shaped ice cream!" "🤨" "😀😍"

"Do you wanna cud-" "cmere right now." Anf you two lovebirds fell asleep while he was spooning you <3

Enjoy! And please please please reblog this when you see it! It always helps and boosts writers blogs! 💗

This is not re-read so I'm so sorry for any mistakes! Stay hydrated and stay safe! <3

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outofconcheol · 3 months

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Exit West (LMH x F!Reader) - Teaser

pairing: Minho x f!reader (afab) genres/au/rating: angst, smut, some fluff, post-apocalyptic au (based on the Netflix series Sweet Home), 18+ summary: Even when the world is plunged into its darkest hour, you find the faintest light in Minho.

warnings: mentions blood and injuries, food scarcity

word count: 580 for the teaser, anticipated 3k-4k for fic

a/n: happy valentines day, i'm here to break your heart! this was just an idea I had after I finished Sweet Home 2 (let's not talk about it ok). i'm not sure when this will be out, but i am trying to work on it every day so pls look forward to it (and let me know if you want to be tagged)!

The sharp wire of the metal fence cuts into Minho’s palms, digging into his mottled skin, and he braces himself for the jump. Leaping over, Minho lands silently on his feet, skills honed from many years of observing his cats take the same leap from couches or counters. But none of that existed anymore.

His eyes remain sharp, taking in the cover of woods around him, and he remembers that while the trees helped him stay hidden, they hid the monsters from his sight as well. No sooner than he’s managed to calm down the ever-present racing of his heart, he’s swinging the door to the bunker open, closing it quietly behind him.

Wincing, he examines the cuts on his palms, tinged with dirty specks of rust. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep doing this, knowing the small supply of rubbing alcohol he’d managed to collect over the past few months was now down to the last bottle. And there was no more to be found.

The small bit of sunlight that streams in through the barely-qualifying window illuminates your sleeping figure nestled amongst a pile of dirty blankets, and Minho almost hesitates to disturb you like this. You look so peaceful like this, a stark contrast to the emptiness that fills your eyes when you wake, the pain of living through two starkly different lifetimes contained in their depths. He knows his eyes hold the same.

“___,” he shakes you awake gently, watching you stir. The gashes that mar your face have begun to scab over, leaving ugly scars in their wake.

“I brought dinner.”

That gets you to jolt up, rubbing sleepily at your eyes.

“Are you okay? Anything hurt?” You shake your head, a small frown on your face when you see the fresh red marks that litter his palms. He has the feeling you’re lying to him again, but he doesn’t push it. A lot went unspoken between you two.

Minho wordlessly hands you over a full sleeve of crackers, your eyes lighting up. You chomp down eagerly on one, before pausing, holding it out to him.

“I already ate,” he lies, knowing he didn’t want you to sacrifice any kind of meal for his sake. He’d eat the less full sleeve when you fell back asleep.

Moments of silence pass between you, the soft sounds of your eating lulling Minho’s tired eyes to fall, becoming heavy with sleep. He rests his head on his knees, fighting back the shiver that night brought with it.

A deafening roar breaks through the stillness, and you freeze, dropping the crackers to the ground. Minho is by your side in an instant, hand tentatively reaching out towards your shoulder. But he never closes the gap.

“Ten seconds,” you croak out, so softly that Minho thinks he might not have heard you. “If the distance that sounds travel is 343 metres per second, then ten seconds means that it’s far enough away from us.”

The ghost of a smile twitches at Minho’s lips, and he wants to praise your sharp skills, considering he’d only ever been a pabo, but you’ve turned around and fallen asleep again, your back to him. Minho settles into the blankets across from you, watching you for a few minutes before his body is weighed down by the exhaustion of the day, knowing the exact same thing waited tomorrow.

The end of the world was more boring than he’d expected it to be.

a/n pt 2: i hope you’re as excited as I am! i don't really have an anticipated release date for this, but it's just something i'm working on for fun!

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mysicklove-main · 11 months

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A/N: Tanjiro writing to his long distance partner bc thats so cute and im in love with him

My Beloved,

I feel as though a part of me is missing without you by my side. I find myself constantly looking for you, even though it’s no use. Oh how dearly I wish you were here. But even so, I feel at peace knowing you are at home and well rested. Safe from harm.

I can’t contain my questions. So please make do with my ramblings.

How are you? Are you sleeping well? Do you feel lonely at home? Have you been keeping busy? Has Shinobu been visiting you? Where Has your hair grown out since my absence? You haven’t been going out at night, right? Is your finger still bare?

I’ve been growing quite worried with the time apart. I feel as though you may find another if I leave for too long.

I’m sorry, I know you would scold me for thinking these things. I wish desperately that I could hear your scolding. But I can’t stop the thoughts that creep on me in the night.

Nezuko is doing fine. She’s getting stronger by the day. She misses you immensely. It’s strange to see how uneasy she is without you. I don’t blame her. I wonder, if you were

Inosuke and Zenitsu are also getting stronger. I hope I can keep up with them. I train day in and out hoping to not fall behind. I think I am getting stronger. I have been working on Hinokami Kagura. It drains my body, but still I push forward. I have to master it, even if it is such a slow process.

At night I find myself daydreaming. Maybe one day you could call your husband lover a hashira. Would we live together peacefully? Or would I be gone on missions like these? I don’t think I could bear to leave you for long. It’s so hard t But I am getting ahead of myself. I am only doing this to save Nezuko. And of course to protect you! I don't need to become a hashira.

I hope my crow has been delivering the gifts properly. I wish I could see the way your eyes light up when you receive them. I’m trying not to let the separation get to me, but when I think about these moments it’s always so hard.

I’m getting distracted again, I apologize my love. The crow should have delivered you the jewelry box. A kind woman sold it to me, and please don’t worry! I promise that it was fairly priced! I hope through its journey that it didn’t get chipped. But I know you don’t care about those things. Either way, I hope you use it well.

My beloved, I do have a favor to ask of you. I hope this is not too much to ask, but the same woman from the market told me about something that cannot seem to leave my head. She explained that many soldiers from the Meiji period used to tie fabric from their lover's kimono around the hem of their sword. It was a symbol of good luck, and that they will always be together no matter the distance between them.

I thought it was…romantic. It made my cheeks burn at the thought. I really I would love if I understand completely if you don’t want to tear a part off. But I can’t explain the joy I would feel if you did. I would treasure it dearly.

I have been avoiding the real reason I wrote this letter and I can’t go on without saying it. Oh, my love, I miss you dearly. I miss the scent of you. I miss your smile, your laugh. I miss waking up to you every morning, that vision never seems to leave my mind. I miss your voice, your touch. I desperately crave it.

I’m sorry. A man shouldn’t act like that. Tengen left his wives for months, and was completely fine. I wish I could do the same. It’s been five weeks and the fight seems to dwindle in me without you here.

I’m trying though. I won’t give up. I will make it home to you and then I swear I’ll never leave you again.

A couple more weeks until I am home. The thought of you in my arms once again makes me feel dizzy with need. I will come back safely for you.

So please, my everything, please take care of yourself. I can’t bear the thought of you being unwell. Please stay safe and don’t walk alone at night. Please eat lots and sleep well.

I will write to you next week with more updates. I promise the next one will be less about me and more about you. I want to hear everything about how you are doing.

I await for your reply, and hopefully the fabric.

I love you more than words can describe.

Forever yours,

Tanjiro

#this was so fun to write #tanjiro drabbles #letter writing #tanjiro x reader #tanjiro kamado #demon slayer tanjiro #tanjirou x reader #x reader #reader insert #kny fluff #kny x read #tanjiro fluff #tanjiro kamado fluff #tanjiro kamado fanfic #tanjiro kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba #fluff #i think if i hit 1k imma write personal letters from characters to my followers #mello.writes

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kaitokitty19 · 2 months

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Pandora AU: Home pt.1

Snippet written for my Pandora AU where Kaito became immortal and he travels around with Hakuba. In the following part, Hakuba’s around his 40s.

———

"Don't you ever want to settle down somewhere?"

Right now, Kaito was curled up next to Saguru's body, which always generates heat like a furnace. It's chilling despite the heater. Kaito instinctively moved closer to the heat source.

In response, Hakuba only petted his hair absent-mindedly and gave a distracted hum. He was busy perusing the file marked "URGENT" Interpol had forwarded earlier that evening, interrupting their dinner. The file had been printed out into a thick stack of paper – getting along in his 40s, long screen time had started to tire Saguru's eyes out quicker; they’re always red and watery after staring at his monitor for a long case, hence the printing.

Always bringing murders and terrorists and whatnot horror into their bed, that bastard. But Kaito could hardly find it in him to complain; not when Saguru is this dastardly handsome with all his fine lines and glasses and laser focus. His juvenile cockiness might have dulled somewhat in age, but his eyes remained as sharp as ever. Kaito imagined he could be cut through with a look. God, he wish he could age with him.

"I already am."

"Huh?" Kaito startled, forgetting that it was him who asked.

"I said ‘I already am’," Saguru reiterated, eyes still glued to inked black and white and free hand waving vaguely around as if that alone should make sense, "settled, that is."

Kaito followed the directions of his wild gestures. Yes, their apartment is nice and all: a tasteful cream-colored motif, delicate plaster ceiling rose, high windows and ceilings, spacious, with a spectacular view of the Eiffel Tower. The Hakuba Corp spared no expense in making sure its young master was happy, and this was no exception. From the most cutting-edge technology to the most beautiful antique furniture, everything seamlessly pieced together in a coherent harmony of livable space. Everything was at his fingertips. Kaito could spend all day mopping around the place without feeling an ounce of claustrophobia. And he did, occasionally - on which days Kaito felt more like a spoiled cat than an actual person. That Hakuba would come home from whatever businesses he tended to, shrug off his trench coat and shoes before bending over the sofa and spoil him with indulgent kisses certainly didn't help the case.

Even if he were to nitpick, there was nothing to bemoan about. But they had scantly been there 5 months. Kaito was sure there were suitcases at the bottom of their closet that had yet been unpacked. 'Settling down' wouldn't be how he would describe it. Nor would it apply to any of their previous many relocations.

"That's not... I mean, don’t you get tired, of moving around like this? Hardly get to see your friends and family? Never allow yourself to take root somewhere? Isn't it suffocating building your life around me?"

This had Saguru's attention. He lowered the case file and turned those keen eyes onto Kaito. The way Kaito's breath hitched was completely involuntary.

"Does it bother you?"

"It doesn't matter, does it? I don't have a choice." There was no use talking around it. With Pandora, Kaito could hardly stay anywhere longer than a handful of years before his unchanging appearance raised a few eyebrows. "But you do. Wouldn't you rather have a home to come back to instead of hotel rooms and new fancy penthouses every other year?"

They were already getting looks as they were, from the way master Hakuba always had a young twenty-something draping over his arm. There had been hushes and whispers that Kaito knew that Saguru feigned oblivion to, only to quietly have them moved within the week.

He hadn't noticed he had been fidgeting until Saguru took hold of his restless fingers, the warmth of his hand effectively stopped his anxious tingle from spreading from his fingertips.

"Kaito," Hakuba sighed, exasperated but firm, like he had said what he was going to say next a thousand times before and had absolute faith in it. And maybe he had. Kaito just couldn't quite bring himself to believe him, "as long as I am with you, I'm already home."

#pandora #dcmk #hakukai #hakuba saguru #detco #kuroba kaito #magic kaito #kaitou kid #sagukai #白快 #au #detective Conan #fic #pamdora au #writing

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galacticgraffiti · 3 months

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☽⋆The Night Comes Down Like Heaven⋆☾

All credit for this beautiful artwork goes to @pinkiemme! If you don't already know and love her, go check out her stuff, and whether you do or don't already follow her, leave some love for her! She deserves all of it.

Summary: Sometimes, everything gets to be too much, even for Rex. On a planet of blood flowers, where else could he turn but to the night sky? Rating: General Wordcount: 2.2k Warnings: Angst, Self-Doubt, Rex has a panic attack, Rex doubts his self-worth and personhood, hurt that turns to comfort eventually, brotherhood between soldiers.

A/N: I know I've been pretty absent from the Star Wars fandom, and unlike most of my other fics this is not OC content nor a reader insert. This fic is a gift for and a collaboration with @pinkiemme, who is a wonderful friend and so beloved to me. Every day you inspire me, my love. Thank you for asking me to collab, I had the best time! ❣

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

The Night Comes Down Like Heaven

Rex’s heart is beating way too fast. He knows that, his hands shaking and his breath too hot inside his bucket. But nothing helps, nothing calms him. Nothing can take away this feeling of being outside of his own body, and simultaneously being trapped inside himself.

Rex tries to breathe, but the weight on his chest just won’t let him; he is being dragged under, voices fading into the background when he should be focusing on them and not the abnormally loud rush of his own blood in his head.

Campaigns like this are always hard, the ones where he has to be away from base for a long time. Not that he ever had any place to truly call home - not even Kamino, even though that might have been the closest he ever came.

But campaigns like this are still harder, being deployed for months at a time without a break, no time to truly rest, no time where he ever gets to feel safe.

Rex tells himself that he should be able to bear it, that he was designed for this, made for this.

It doesn't help: his heart still races and his hands still shake. The weight on his chest gets heavier, and the ringing in his ears unbearable.

Rex leans forward, clinging to the table where the Generals have set up a projection of the upcoming battle to talk it through. His knuckles must be white underneath his gloves from the force it takes him to stay upright, and General Skywalker’s concerned enquiry is just an indistinguishable mumble.

Rex feels like he might pass out just then, dark spots swimming in his vision as he desperately gasps for air beneath his bucket but his lungs just won’t fill.

“Excuse me,” he mumbles, abruptly leaving the war meeting. He knows General Skywalker is staring after him, he knows General Kenobi and Cody are looking at each other with furrowed brows. But if he stays here even one second longer, Rex knows he is going to scream and scream and never stop again until a blaster finally gets him.

It’s a miracle he is still alive, after all this. By all accounts, he should be dead a hundred times over. So many enemies, and they just keep coming. It never stops, never slows, not even when Rex feels like he could just… crumble to the ground if it only meant he got to rest.

So many vode have been lost. Too many, even though they were bred for this, made for this, engineered for this. They are not real - were never real - just like Rex is not real. Not a real man, not even a real soldier. Just a clone, one of millions, all of them with the purpose to die, and do it slowly, to keep the Republic on its last legs a little while longer.

Rex bites down on his lip until he tastes blood, feet carrying him away from the light, from the chatter, from company and everything else. Just… away. He walks fast until he reaches the edge of their encampment, and only then does he let his legs speed up, running and running, almost in full gear, helmet fogging up, but he can't get his feet to stop.

The Republic is dying, and Rex is dying either for it or with it. There is no other way. That is all there is for him, because that is all he was made for, and that thought tastes so bitter he gags.

Treasonous thoughts, these are. Thoughts he would be court-martialed for if he ever spoke them aloud, even if he has heard rumblings in the barracks that have never been reported. The vode are loyal, even more to each other than to the Republic they were made for. But all it takes is one weak link.

The threat of reprogramming looms over them eternally: a fate worse than death, where nothing is left of the old soldier as a new one is made from his flesh, no more than a blank slate.

They are all expendable, Rex has no illusions about that. No matter how soft General Skywalker's eyes go when he looks at him, no matter the way General Tano bumps-

Rex stumbles, nearly dropping to his knees. He has not been watching where he’s going, just walking, running, sprinting - escaping the endless rows of tents. Fleeing with no rhyme or reason, his heart too heavy in his chest as his feet thunder on the ground.

When he looks around, there is nothing as far as Rex’s eyes can see, not a soul, not a building. Just meadows and rolling hills, and the deep night sky.

This planet could almost be beautiful if the flowers did not only bloom after blood had soaked the ground.

Rex double checks his surroundings with a heartbeat so fast his chest wants to break apart, but there is nothing and no one. He is really and truly alone, for the first time in weeks. Probably months. Maybe years- maybe ever.

That realisation hits Rex like a speeder train. Everything is too much: his body is not his own and he wants to shed it in this moment. He wants to cease existing in this way, and that is treasonous when it should be natural.

Rex lets himself drop to his knees, lets himself rip off his gloves and bury his fingers in the deep grass that surrounds him. And he lets himself scream. Scream into the void and the vast emptiness of the universe. Scream until his lungs give out, silent tears running down his cheeks and soaking the cushions of his buy’ce.

In the vastness of this universe, Rex is nothing. Not just nobody, but truly and entirely nothing. He is lost and without purpose, because his whole life means nothing in the grand scheme of things.

An old Mandalorian saying pushes through the heavy fog of anxiety that has settled on his thoughts, so pragmatic it nearly makes him laugh.

Ca’tra darasuum rohaka verd’an.

The eternal night sky defeats all warriors.

Rex almost tips over with the laughter that bubbles up in his chest. It falls off his lips like bitter pearls, but he cannot seem to swallow it down, and he can't breathe like this but it doesn't matter.

He can tell he is becoming hysterical, hiccups shaking him between laughter and tears, but he just can’t stop. Rex lets himself fall, and he lets himself feel. All of the emotions he has been pushing away, everything that has happened, all the little cracks in his armour, slowly eating through the Republic-issued plastoid until Rex just… falls apart. His cuirass is laying in the war tent with his General, Rex’s brittle heart exposed in the middle of a war zone.

And still, it’s not a shot from an enemy that brings him to his knees, it is the vastness of space looming above him, it is the hundreds of lightyears that lay between him and his fallen vode and it is the memory of Ahsoka’s small hand on his arm when they first met.

His protection is already frail, and there is nothing to be done about it. He is all alone, and without cover, with no back up and no weapon. And for once, Rex allows himself not to think about it as he takes off his buy’ce to look at the sky with his own eyes. The eyes of the man that he was made from, that are somehow still Rex’s own, made so by the things he has witnessed, by the bloodshed he has caused and the battles he has fought. Made so by the love he has been part of, and by the family he has found, most of them sharing those same brown eyes.

Rex lays back in the grass and stares at ca’tra darasuum, and he lets himself remember. The stars swim before his eyes as this blood-soaked planet slowly turns and turns, making its way around the centre of its universe. Rex lays between flowers born from the blood and the sweat and the pain of his brothers, and he feels so much that he thinks he will burst. Time passes like honey, and the sky is still dark when he is finally found.

Cody is like the sunrise, advancing slowly and then all at once, bathing Rex in his golden light even in darkness.

“Thought you couldn’t be far,” he mumbles as he crouches down next to Rex. “Guess I was wrong. Took me fuckin’ ages to find you, vod’ika.”

“This world is big,” Rex simply replies, with a voice rough from tears. “This world is so big, Kote. If we survive this, it won’t even make a difference. I look at the stars and all I see is cold indifference in the face of suffering and death.”

Cody cocks his head, and even through his dark visor, Rex can feel his brother's eyes on him. The sound of Cody’s voice is filtered through his helmet.

“Ca’tra darasuum rohaka verd’an.”

Rex laughs at that, a dry, humourless laugh. Nobody else knows what he is thinking the way Cody always does. Two generations of brothers, sometimes closer even than those from the same batch ever are.

“You know me too well.”

Cody scoffs.

“No such thing. Not when it comes to family.” He offers his hand to Rex. “Come on, vod’ika. You have been out here by yourself for too long already.”

“Nayc.” Rex shakes his hand. “Shebe ti’ni. Please. Just for a moment.”

Cody sighs deeply.

“I forget how young you can be sometimes.”

But he stays. He sits with his brother, in spite of everything, In spite of the war, the death, the pain that surrounds them every day and every night. Rex lays back again, while Cody keeps watch.

“The galaxy is so vast,” Rex says again, but this time, his voice is coloured not by sadness nor fear, but instead by awe. “Kote, if we get out of here alive… maybe we can be someone. Become someone. You know… the end of the war-”

“We don’t speak of the end of the war,” Cody interrupts him. “Cuyi verde, vod. Don’t fuck with me, you know this. We all know this. It's the truth that guides our path.”

Rex exhales. His breath forms little clouds in the cool night air, and something almost akin to peace washes over him. This is it. This is tangible proof that he is here, and he is real. Just like the grass beneath him, flattened by his weight. Just like the earth below, warmed by his body heat. Proof for his existence. He inhabits this galaxy.

“I have never asked for anything,” he says, and that makes Cody shut his mouth with an audible click. Rex smiles, sadness and fragile joy mixing on his features that are so much like Cody’s, but no matter how hard the Kaminoans have tried, have never been exactly the same. “I have never asked for anything, Kote. I have never had anything of my own, and I have been alright with that. But I’m asking you now. Let me have this moment, just a moment of peace and quiet. I am falling apart. Let me glue my pieces back together so I can hold on a little longer. Nakar’tuur mhi oyacyi akaanir ashi’tuur, isn’t that how the song goes?”

Cody goes very quiet and very still next to him. He does not respond, but when he takes off his bucket and sets it down next to Rex’s, Rex knows he has won.

“Look at the constellations with me, Kote,” he says, and in this moment, he is seven years old, tugging at Cody’s shirt sleeve and dragging him to the big skylight at Kamino, the one that never sees daylight in the eternal rain, on the one night of his life he can remember where no rain fell on Kamino. “Ta’raysholan verda, vod. They came before us, but we will outlive them. Let me dream of the end of our war before we die. Please.”

Cody smiles his crooked little Cody smile, the one that looks exactly like it did when they were children.

“War?” he says, and settles down on his back with his hands tucked behind his head, mirroring his little brother. “What war?”

Rex’s cheeks hurt from the smile that splits his face, and he lets himself bask in this moment of happiness. They are alive. They are here. He raises his hand to point out the first constellation they learned, way back when. Even though it looks all wrong, he would recognise it anywhere. Kamino seems a million lightyears away, and maybe it is. But the night sky still seems the same to him.

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

Mando’a

vode - brothers buy’ce - helmet Ca’tra darasuum rohaka verd’an. - The eternal night sky defeats all warriors. vod’ika - little brother Nayc. Shebe ti’ni. - No. Sit with me. Kote - Glory (my own personal headcanon where the name ‘Cody’ comes from) Cuyi verde, vod. - We are soldiers, brother. Nakar’tuur mhi oyacyi akaanir ashi’tuur - Tomorrow, we live to fight another day. (Taken from my Mando’a lullaby) Ta’raysholan verda - A thousand warriors (also taken from that same lullaby - fuelled by the belief that dead soldiers become stars to watch over their fighting siblings).

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

Taggies for the beloveds and a huge shoutout for @baba-fett, my eternal wonderful beta-reader who messaged me back within 2 seconds when i dropped the words 'rex angst' on her doorstep.

@purgetrooperfox @ashotofspotchka @daimyosprincess @deewithani @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @ulchabhangorm @sleepingsun501 @queen--kenobi @kik51199 @samspenandsword @ficsbynight @writingbylee @thefact0rygirl @wild-karrde @hayley-the-comet @rescuethewretched @equalityforcats @witchklng @ladykatakuri @certified-anakinfucker @mandoloriancookie @felinaone @rosieofcorona @savagemickey03 @amyroswell @supercalifragilisticprincess @palpipeen @idkwhatsgoingonwithme @dudewhynotthis @kimiheartblade

#tcw #tcw fanfic #rex #captain rex #ct-7567 #neyo writes #neyo collabs #star wars #tw angst

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littlefreya · 1 year

Text

Danse Macabre

Summary: She cannot tell who she is anymore, nor where she is. All that she knows is that Sherlock is not the man he pretends to be and that every night he comes to her bedroom to feast on the delights of her body...

Pairing: Vampire!Sherlock Holmes x Virgin OFC (no mentions of body type or ethnicity)

Word count: 2.2K

Warnings: 18+, Dark, horror, dubious consent, sex, supernatural themes, I guess we can say monster sex? Mentions of blood, hinted Stockholm Syndrome, loss of virginity, metaphors, obsession, hinted hypnosis, bites, vampire sex, mind manipulation.

A/N: I don't own Sherlock Holmes or Enola Holmes. Many thanks to my angels: @agniavateira for beta'ing my work and supporting me, and to @notabronte for giving me feedback and encouraging me to post. Please reblog and leave a comment if you enjoyed it. 🖤

Danse Macabre 🕯️

How long has it been; a month? A year? An eternity?

Time swayed differently in Mister Holmes’ mansion — if it moved at all.

The nights seemed endless, and the days… she couldn’t remember the last time she was awake during daytime. Perhaps this was a nightmare, or maybe it was the cold tentacles of death that pulled her into an abyss; but then, if the dead couldn’t feel pain then why did his kisses hurt?

It was in the bawls of midnight when Sherlock stalked into her bedroom— his jaw stern, cheekbones sharp and strikingly distinguished by the flame of a single candle held in his hand. Hunger filled his careless face, and his eyes flickered brightly like glowing orbs of ice.

Unable to scream or move, she watched him behind the ghostly veils of her bed. Hot wax dribbled down his fingers—little white tears of sorrow that she wished she herself could cry, but Sherlock had not only drained her of such force but by some enchantment, coaxed her to submit to his sacrilegious desire

“Undress,” he demanded from the doorway where he stood, shrouded by the crimson haze of the poorly lit corridor. Whatever was behind him, she could never see, the width of his bulky figure blocked the path like a monster from a children’s tale.

‘Monsters are real, Momma. They look like men in tailored vests and shiny leather shoes.’

Her fingers trembled, hands stiff and heavy. Yet she did what she was told without question, allowing the straps of her nightdress to fall down her shoulders the way a dying leaf falls from a branch.

Eyes a shade colder than ice, his glare fell to her breasts, and his chest puffed with a rumbling growl. Slowly he stalked forward, treading like a spider on its web. The tips of his fingers turned black as if dipped in poison whilst his nails grew long and sharp at every step.

“The duvet. Set it aside.”

His voice was the rumble of an inching thunder, an echo inside her head that made her bones rattle. Whenever he spoke, it felt as if invisible strings wrapped around her wrists and persuaded her limbs to do as he commanded. Even when her soul begged her to give a sliver of resistance, her hands still lifted to obey this dark ventriloquist and pushed the blanket away.

The stem of Sherlock’s throat clenched at the delicious splendour: bare, youthful skin, so tight and so supple. A thing that should have never been touched, should have never been spoiled and yet he yearned for nothing but to leave his marks at the depth of her soul.

The scent that emanated from the flesh between her thighs elicited a guttural groan from his chapped lips. In his throat pulled the ghastly hunger. Setting the candle on the wardrobe, he stalked toward the bed, his shadow metastasizing and devouring every shred of light that dared enter the chamber.

Both the mattress and her heart sank once he placed a knee on the bed and began to crawl between her parted legs, slowly and predatorily, dragging himself closer to her heat. Black, sharpened nails graze their way up her inner thighs, admiring the pureness of the forever-young flesh.

Encased in a glass coffin, his young ward would forever be protected from famine, disease, and time; and what was Sherlock if not a warden fulfilling his duty?

‘A monster! God, please! There is a monster in my bed!’

If only she could scream, if only God hadn’t abandoned her. Instead, all she could do was shiver, her heart giving no sound as Sherlock forced himself between her thighs. One razor-sharp fingernail traced the plumpness of her breast, tenderly circling and caressing the nipple.

“Mine,” he growled and slipped his nail down the valley of her torso, casually tugging the remains of her gown to expose her pure mound. Red glinted on those piercing shards that replaced his eyes—red like a flicker of fire from a match. “Look at me,” he demanded, though there was no need for him to ask.

That same gaze that possessed her had sliced through the tendrils of her mind.

Nodding, she lifted her gaze to meet his, her lips parting in a quiet plea as the ghastly, pointed talon made careful strokes amidst the swollen petals to collect the honeyed dew that gathered at the seams of her untouched cunt.

“My poor little dove, it’s so lonely in there…” he keened, attempting to slide his long monstrous finger inside of her. But her maidenhood, still obstinate to protect her from the vile urges of men, forbade him access.

Foolish.

What strength did her flesh have against such a sinister entity if even iron locks and carved religious figures couldn’t keep him away? Huffing with scorn, he drew an icy fingertip around the outlines of her slit, further spreading the sinful wetness across the seams of her cunt.

She mewled, despite herself, her waist moving in a smooth tidal sway.

Sherlock could never tire of this, not of the terror in her eyes whenever she saw him at her bedroom door nor the moans she emitted as he traced her engorged flesh with a finger or his tongue. But what he favoured above all was the sensation of his cock as it tore through her seal and those heavenly pained cries that eventually turned into the moans of a whore.

What a great fortune it was that they had an eternity of this dance.

Hovering above his prey, he propped his knees between her legs, the fabric of his trousers brushing against her inner thighs as he lowered his weight upon her. If there was any air in her lungs, she would have let out a shuddering breath; but what came instead was a silent gasp, and only her lips quivered as she prepared herself for the familiar twinge of his invasion.

Reaching for his groin, he freed his hardened cock and stroked a hand across its length before nudging the heart-shaped crown at the gates of her purity. Not yet pushing in, he teased himself up and down her narrow slit, treating her the way a lover treats his delicate mistress— the way a cat toys with a mouse.

Lips swollen and tingling, she whimpered, her yet-empty hole twitching as if heeding a primal call. How could she fear and need him at the same time? Did she loathe herself so much that she wanted him to defile her? Tears began to rim her eyes, and from quivering lips, she whispered, “please…”

Letting out a low rumbling chuckle, he lowered his head and pressed a kiss to her forehead before whispering in her ear, “You, my ward, are such a mystery…”

Her mouth opened to speak but a scream followed instead. One unceremonious thrust and he sunk into her lush depth, his girthy cock devouring the sweetness of virginal flesh. Indifferent to her pain, he pushed further and deeper past her folds until every inch of him was buried within.

Cries and squeals sputtered from her mouth—the monster had tore her innocence, the pain had seared, and in pathetic pleas for mercy, she slapped against his bare chest and tried to shove him away. But Sherlock knew no mercy, for truly he was a beast, not just by the breadth of his shoulders and untypically muscular figure, but by his blunt absence of elegance and heartless mien. Giving her no moment to adjust, he had already began to pump himself inside of her now-defiled cunt.

Such a mask of virtue did her warden wear; to the world, a perfect, eloquent gentleman. But behind closed doors, lurked a sick, sinister man who only wished to desecrate this tender maiden in this dark sacrament.

Over and over, he pulled away only to plunge into her again, each thrust harder than the last, each thrust ending with the slap of his sack against her cunt. And the moans that came from him - had the most debauched resonance, as if she was a long anticipated feast to a voracious man.

Unable to meet his vigour, her walls whined a protest and squeezed around him in a futile battle to drive him out; yet for Sherlock, this tightness was nothing less than an aphrodisiac. If any, her insubordination did nothing but provoke the ungodly creature within him. Reaching a clawed hand to her chin, his fingers pressed into the hollow of her cheeks, forcing her to stare directly into his bright-red eyes as he began to fuck her in a punishing pace.

“I am already inside you, little dove. There is nothing that can be done,” he rasped while his hips continuously snapped into hers, every second rut bringing her closer to surrender as friction drew that which she so religiously wanted to resist.

“Give in to me, and I will give you pleasure like no other.”

His words were but a spell. Briefly, unbidden, a spark inside her womb ignited, giving life to ecstatic flames that cascaded through her canal. While a part of her wanted to stay pure and deny this vicious man, an unbearable ache for his return struck her every time he pulled out from her slit. In mindless despair to hold him close, she had finally caved in and wrapped her legs around his waist to hold him near.

Triumphant grunts rumbled in his throat. Appeased by her surrender to his whims, he lifted his upper torso, his taut abs flexing as he rose to hover above her. With his hand still around her jaw, he pressed her deeper into the mattress while pummeling her cunt.

“Make us whole…” he begged, his voice a husky—almost pitiful—groan.

“Make us whole again.”

Depraved as an animal, he ravaged her with the selfish degenerate intent of a man yearning to impregnate his mate. Though this union could result in nothing of that sort, still she thrashed against him in an archaic frenzy, her screams unfurling into the night as her body became enslaved to the same foolish wanton. Soon her trenches began to tighten around him in demand of his seed, and the whispering embers that smouldered in her womb had suddenly imploded into a wave of molten fire that scorched through her completely.

It was in that moment when her cunt devoured him completely, when he felt her heat gush and hug around his shaft so longingly that his eyes glowed bright red, and his fangs flashed sharply before her dazed eyes. Even though she had seen this play out numerous, endless times, she couldn’t help but gasp as he lowered his mouth to her neck and drank her pleasure-tainted blood.

Eyes staring into the ceiling with shock, she trembled like a thing that was about to be shattered. The waves of her ecstasy ebbed away as Sherlock stole from whatever maw of force she had left. Black mists began to waft around her, blurring her sight and pulling her down below. And suddenly, she was limp and heavy at the same time while a cold, strange tingle jittered through her veins.

‘Death…’ she smiled with her eyes half-shut, ‘Oh, finally… Release me!’

Just then, a secondary implosion spasmed through her core and caused her entire body to jitter with delight as the sensation elicited from his bite was an unlikely aphrodisiac. Mouth agape in a silent cry, she threw her head back and stared through the open window while the monster inside her continued to feast on her throat.

The moon—it was covered in blood, painting the room in a crimson shade.

Lost in this trance, Sherlock hummed; the blood of a newly deflowered virgin was sweeter than ambrosia; after decades and aeons of searching, he could sense the wind on his skin, feel the thrum in his veins and abruptly… in a moment passing, he felt a rumble in his chest as his heart pumped once again.

‘Make us whole.’

‘Make me whole.’

‘Make me feel alive again.’

Losing his control entirely, he thrusted into her with a few last powerful strokes and then finally lifted his head with a savage-like shout while his thick elixir overflowed her womb. Cum seeped around his cock at the same manner of the blood that trickled down his square chin.

He licked the corner of his lip, eyes red and sated, peering down at his prey.

“Oh, my sweet little flower,” he murmured and carefully lowered his head to kiss her. She returned the kiss, uncertain if by choice, little did she care now. Her body still tingled and the taste of her own blood had an odd sweetness to it that had made her thirsty. Once he broke from her lips, she suckled them dry.

Like petals plucked from a rose, she laid raw beneath him. Not dead. Not yet. Not ever. She no longer remembered her life before him, no longer remembered who she was. All she knew was that when she would wake the next day, it would be night again.

And he would return to claim her, again.

His fellow companions warned him of such abomination; it was dangerous to drink from his own kind, or so they claimed. It poisoned the mind and the body according to the myths, but whether it was true or not, Sherlock couldn’t bring himself to care.

No matter the fashion, he came every night, drank from her veins, deflowered her and left.

And every night, she woke up a virgin again, clueless as to who and what she was.

But Sherlock knew the one and only true answer.

She was his.

For all eternity.

#henry cavill #enola holmes #enola holmes 2 #sherlock holmes fanfiction #sherlock holmes x reader #henry cavill x reader #sherlock holmes x ofc #henry cavill fanfiction

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captainsophiestark · 1 month

Text

Flickering Firelight

Luke Castellan x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: Percy Jackson

Summary: Three snapshots of a relationship with Luke Castellan, before during and after the things he does for Kronos.

Word Count: 1,258

Category: Angst, Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I sighed, leaning my head against my boyfriend's shoulder, both of us illuminated by the flickering light of the campfire we'd made on the beach. Everything had been so busy over the last week, and it was nice to finally have a moment just for us.

"Lotta new campers this summer," mused Luke, my best-friend-turned-boyfriend as of a few months ago. "We're gonna have a hell of a time with them in the Hermes cabin."

"Yeah. Hopefully it won't take too long for them to get claimed. Some of them have been pretty good about it, lately."

Luke just grunted, not really giving me a full response. I knew exactly how he felt about the Olympians and the things they did, so I let it drop.

"I have to say, it's nice to have everybody back, though," I said, gently changing the subject. I took Luke's hand in mine, gently tracing lines with my thumb. "The whole place just feels more alive with the summer campers here."

"True. And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't looking forward to getting them all back into shape in the sword arena, since I just know almost none of them practiced while they were gone."

"Now that is a show that I'd like to watch."

Luke huffed a laugh, and I pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes. The corner of his mouth quirked up in a smirk that I absolutely adored, and which made my heart race.

"I've got a good feeling about this summer," I said, moving a little closer to Luke as I spoke. The smirk faded from his lips, replaced with a more thoughtful expression I couldn't totally read.

"Yeah. So do I."

****************

I hadn't seen the love of my life in a long time, and now we stood on opposite sides of a battlefield. And he wasn't really my Luke.

The flickering firelight of the burning city around me reflected off of gold armor, in the gold eyes I didn't recognize.

"Luke..." My voice broke on his name, turning into a hoarse whisper I hardly recognized. "Please..."

The only indication the man I loved was still in there was the slightest twitch of his eye. Time slowed as the monster that had brought him into this mess smiled at me, nothing like the mischievous grin I knew and loved.

"Nice try, little hero. But he's gone. And so are you."

I tried to raise my sword as Kronos advanced on me, but my arms were like lead. I was among the last defenders of Olympus, further out from the final ring my friends had made. I wanted to make a meaningful stand to try to stop this here and now, but as the seconds inched by, it became more and more clear that wouldn't be possible.

The last thing I saw was Luke's stupid sword Backbiter, with its bronze and steel blade, flashing through the air towards me, held by a monster using someone I loved as a mask.

****************

I sighed as I put my feet up on the stone ring of the firepit before me, leaning back in an extra-comfy lounge chair. The sun shone down on me, warming my skin despite being Olympus knew how far underground. Here, it didn't matter. I'd found paradise.

Based on the fact that Elysium still existed at all, I knew my friends had managed to succeed. It hadn't been too long after I'd first arrived here that someone brought news that confirmed it: Kronos and his Titans had been defeated. Olympus had won the day.

Sadly, I wasn't down here by myself. Too many friends were here with me, all of us dying in the fight and at least making it here together, as a small silver lining. We'd taken over a whole section of the place as our own secondary Camp Half-Blood, enjoying the peace here together while we could.

Some of us had even tried for rebirth, and more were headed that way. But I couldn't bring myself to leave. At least, not yet.

I kept waiting for what I was almost confident wouldn't happen, but I refused to move on all the same. Silena had made it down here, after all, despite being a spy for the Titans. She'd realized her error and made a change, helping our cause and redeeming herself enough for Elysium. Based on other accounts from above, Luke had done something similar. He'd also done much worse than Silena, but I still couldn't make myself give up hope of seeing him here too.

"Hey."

I looked up to find Ethan Nakamura, one of Luke's lieutenants who'd defected at the very, very end, looking at me from a few feet away. I raised an eyebrow at him, and he blew out a breath.

"Somebody's here to see you."

I frowned, then shot up straight in my seat as a familiar face stepped out from behind one of the residences of Elysium. Luke, looking more sheepish and unsure than I'd ever seen him in either of our lives, struggled to meet my eyes. I froze, hardly believing what I was seeing. It was him. Like he'd been before all this shit with the Titans.

He finally looked up, and his eyes were his own, all trace of that horrible gold gone.

Tears flooded down my face as I rushed forward, wrapping him in a bone-crushing hug. I sobbed into his chest as I held him, my Luke, somehow here with me after death when I never thought I'd see him again.

He breathed my name like he didn't believe I was real, his arms finally coming around me and holding me tight. We stayed like that for a long time, holding each other, hearts pressed against each other. Finally, it started to sink in that he was really here with me, after everything we'd been through. I pulled back just a bit, so I could look him in the eyes again. Those beautiful eyes that I loved met mine.

"Luke..." I breathed, a smile lighting up my face. Slowly, a beaming smile spread on his own, mirroring mine.

"I- I didn't think you'd be happy to see me."

My heart ached at his words, and I leaned in to give him a soft kiss on the cheek before meeting his eyes again.

"I wasn't happy with the choice you made, Luke, and a lot of bad things came from it. But you came back to me in the end. If what I've been hearing is right, you helped save the world, at the cost of your own life. And even at the worst moments, I never stopped loving you."

"I never stopped loving you, either. If I could go back, if I could do things differently-"

I put one finger to his lips, gently cutting him off before he could get too far down that path.

"I know, Luke. But you can't. None of us can do anything to change the past. So we might as well enjoy where we are now."

He nodded, a soft smile gracing his lips. I leaned up to press mine gently against his own, the kiss soft and sweet and everything I'd been missing since that last summer we'd had together. I let myself enjoy the moment, Luke's hands tightening on my waist, then pulled away.

"Come on," I said, trailing my hand down from his shoulder to take his hand. "Let me show you around, and then we can get some marshmallows and hang out by the fire."

Luke beamed. "I can't think of anything in the world that I'd rather do."

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

Percy Jackson Taglist: @valkyriepirate

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definitelynotafurinasimp · 8 months

Note

For your 1.5k celebration, how about first dance with Furina!

First Dance

or "Furina decides to make you her first dancepartner in Centuries"

Characters: Furina x gn!reader

a/n: This post is part of my 1500 Follower event, if you want to read other works belonging to it or want to request something yourself, you can do that here.

Anyway, hope you enjoy

Furina

Whenever Teyvat stumbled into a new year, celebrations were quick to take place, was it because of tradition, a wish to reflect on the last 12 months and think about the future, or simply because it was a welcome excuse to celebrate something. Fontaine was no exception, the Hydro Archon herself hosting a grand ball each year. A ball during which she never showed an interest to actually dance, simply liking the attention and admiration she received when holding a great opening speech.

It had been that way each and every year, going on for so long that Furina silently began to question if she even still knew how to dance, a concern she’d never voice out loud of course and a secret no one would ever really pick up on, considering her lack of will to dance in front of others.

So would have been the case this year as well, if you hadn’t barged into the picture, happily telling her about how much you looked forward to attending the next New Year’s celebration. Suddenly, seeing the Archon in public became a rarity, the God of Justice spending almost every waking moment on making sure there wouldn’t be a single thing about her dancing skills even her biggest critics could nitpick about.

When Furina’s eyes landed on you during her opening speech, they never left again, glued onto you like those of a predator on its prey, the Archon beelining towards you the moment her speech was over, not wanting to risk anyone asking you for a dance before her. And ask you for a dance she did, each of her words handpicked especially carefully to match the importance of Fontaine’s Archon asking someone for a dance for the first time in many, many years.

Seeing the focused and serious look on her face as the two of you danced to a slow waltz, was an occurrence you hadn’t expected to witness, Furina’s full attention directed at making sure she was absolutely perfect, her face only relaxing once the music wound down.

“That was perfect Furina. I didn’t know you could dance this well”, you spoke up in awe, only to quickly feel the urge to facepalm before responding to yourself. “Of course you’d be great at this, you’re Fontaine’s Archon after all”, you murmured out, only for Furina to wave off your last comment.

“No, it’s fine. Praise me more”, her thoughts came out of her mouth unfiltered, something the proud smile on her face told you she didn’t really care about, her smile growing brighter and brighter as you complied with her request.

“Thank you for allowing me the honor of dancing with you Furina, I’ll treasure this memory until the end of my days”, you eventually went on to say your goodbye, not wanting to tie her down talking to you any further. There had to be many other guests she wished to dance with after all, something you didn’t want to hinder her from, no matter how much fun you had. As you were about to leave however, you were halted by Furina coughing, a process that happened each time it looked like you were leaving her, until it eventually had you worry.

“Are you feeling fine Furina? Do you need something?”, you asked, ready to bring her whatever she wished for, only for her to respond with a ticked off face.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?”

Her words left you staring in confusion, only for the music to once again start playing, causing you to start grasping at straws in hopes it would make her feel less annoyed.

“May I… have this dance?”, you hesitantly asked, only for Furina’s mood to to a complete 180, her face lighting up once again as she quickly took your hands, grinning at you before speaking up one more time.

“I guess one more dance wouldn’t hurt.”

#furina #furina x you #furina x y/n #furina x reader #1500 simps event

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everythingdenied · 1 year

Text

baby fever-matty healy

a/n: just a short one that's been sitting in my notes app for months today besties :) got so much non tumblr related work today so this is the best i can do. my apologies if it makes zero sense el oh el mwah x warnings: mentions of pregnancy/babies etc, literally the faintest mention of weed?? other than that its just a happy liccle fluff wc: 1,029

"What'd you reckon babies even think about?" Matty hummed, sat cross legged on our living room floor, his back pressed up against the sofa as he watched the tiny human in front of him with fascination.

Cocking a brow, I looked up from my spot on the couch, fingers curling around the warm cup of tea in my hands.

"What do you mean?" I snorted, amused by his question.

"Well, they're always giggling, aren't they? Must be thinkin' about something dead funny if they're laughing that much."

"Babies laugh at everything, Matty. It's just cause they're...I dunno...it's just cause they're babies."

"That's a shit answer" He tutted, unsatisfied, and turned back to look at my niece. The baby babbled to herself, a toothless grin on her face as she stared, seemingly just as intrigued by my boyfriend as he was with her. Matty chuckled warmly, leaning forward, chin resting in his hands. "C'mon, love. you can tell us what's so funny. Promise I won't tell."

He held his pinky out to emphasis his 'promise' but Ella, being barely six months old, hadn't a clue what this meant, instead latching onto Matty's finger with a chubby little hand. I watched on with an affectionate role of my eyes, taking a sip of my tea.

I was honestly pleasantly surprised with how easily Matty had taken to my niece. When my sister had asked the two of us to babysit her for the afternoon whilst she and her partner went out for the afternoon, the first little bit of alone time they'd managed to get since El's birth, I'd been fairly sure my boyfriend would do nothing but whine and protest the whole day. More than used to his constant cynicism about everything, not excluding children, it felt strange to see him so enamoured with the little person crawling haphazardly around our front room; half expecting today to be a running commentary on how he simply 'couldn't stand' kids.

"She's quite cute, isn't she?" Matty mused wistfully, lifting the pudgy baby into his lap, and I couldn't help the grin that painted my lips. He glanced over his shoulder at me, eyes narrowing in confusion. "What?"

"I thought you hated kids" I teased, shifting on the sofa.

"Never said that."

"You have. Many times." He pouted, looking down at Ella, who had now become preoccupied with Matty's hair, tugging lightly on a stray curl that had fallen over his eyes.

"Well...I didn't mean I hated 'em. I just-they're just a bit stupid sometimes, aren't they?"

"Bit like you then" I quipped playfully and he wrinkled his nose, breathing out a sarcastic laugh.

"Twat" He retorted and I gasped, reaching down to lightly slap his shoulder, earning a characteristically dramatic 'ow' from my partner, a man oftentimes more childish than the six month old currently residing in his lap.

"Stop swearing. I'm not returning her to my sister with that as her first word." Matty bit back a smirk but still murmured an apology, carefully cupping Ella's face in his hands as he begged her not to repeat what he'd just said, barely holding in his laughter. The little girl understood nothing but still seemed to hang on to Matt's every word, his voice drawing out her sweetest smile, seeped in purity.

It was a tender sight, oozing with a domesticity I'd never seen before in Matty and I couldn't help but snap a quick photo on my phone, smiling down at the image.

Later that evening, hours after my sister had come to collect Ella, I found myself crawling into bed with Matty, smiling to myself as I clambered beneath the duvet, laying my head on his bare chest. His arms enveloped me as if on instinct, pulling me closer to his warmth as I pressed a kiss to his sternum.

He mewled softly when I nuzzled into him, fingertips tracing up and down my arm, the faint smell of weed and toothpaste blanketing the air around he and I. There was a comfortable silence, the two of us basking in the peace and quiet for a moment, albeit I could tell Matty's head was anything but, marked by his incessant fidgeting.

"You okay?" I murmured, brows knitting together. Matty only hummed in response, saying nothing as he nestled his face into my hair, breathing in deeply.

"Do you think I'd be a good dad?" he cut through the silence abruptly, his words practically unintelligible, muffled by my hair and whispered lowly as if he didn't quite want me to hear them.

"Hmm?" I glanced up at him.

"Do you...I mean, would I, I dunno, be alright, y'know, if we ever ended up having a kid?" I smiled earnestly at Matty, my hand splaying out atop the tattoo on his chest, feeling his pulse quicken against my palm. "Not that i'm saying we should have a kid now or anyth-"

"I think you'd be an amazing dad" I cut him off, craning my neck a little so that my lips met his in an act of comfort. We'd talk about this before, obviously, the whole 'baby' situation, but never seriously. I'd almost always instigated the conversation and, more often than not, Matty had brushed it off, mature enough to recognise that he probably wasn't quite ready for a baby. He still wasn't, nor was I, but I knew that having Ella around had changed something in him. "It'd be difficult with the band and stuff but, you'd love that kid more than anything. I mean, if you treat it even half as well as you treat me...well, it'd be lucky to have you."

"You mean that? You're not just saying it so i'll shut up and go to sleep?" I chuckled and shook my head, kissing him once more.

"I mean it" His eyelids fluttered contentedly. "Now's not the time...you've gotta focus on the boys. But one day...one day you'll make the best dad in the world." I punctuated my words with a peck. "Promise."

Matty smiled lazily, the pads of his thumbs drawing mindless shapes against my arms.

"Good, 'cause I quite fancy being called a dilf on twitter."

#matty healy fanfic #matty healy x reader

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