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#musings of a troubled soul
ode-of-odr-archive · 2 years
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The revenge that is postponed is not forgotten.
Icelandic proverb
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i like to headcanon that Emet has a sortof sixth-sense for Azem Nonsense™️
specifically, whenever Azem is doing something A Bit Silly (read: dangerous), Emet can sense it and gets worry-annoyed ^//^
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we-the-big-gay · 1 year
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when did we forget how to be human?
when who we are becomes what we are - identity based on the outward and not the inward -
when we forget to sing and remember we were taught to be silent,
when we love on our conditions instead of their conditions,
and when we lust over ourselves and hate everyone else,
i will ask: when did we forget how to be human?
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mischiefmoons · 2 months
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partners in crime [ in this life ]
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luke castellan x fem!dionysus!reader
MAIN SERIES MASTERPOST
[in this life and the next: the trouble!verse]
summary: few things are certain in this life as a demigod, but one thing is for sure— you can’t fight fate when it pulls you and luke castellan together, over and over again. two young people who hate the gods are more like them than they think, for better or worse. annoyances to best friends to lovers
here's a playlist (spotify & apple music links now available!)
child of dionysus headcanons!
trouble!verse moodboard by the lovely @24kmar
alternate universe masterlist
any works, updates, thoughts, musings, etc about this series will be tagged under #trouble!verse !
key: fluff - ☼ angst - ☽ smut - ☆ jo's favorites - ᥫ᭡
[IN THIS LIFE...]
| pre-established relationship |
trouble always finds me (trouble!reader origin story) 1.7k ☼
The one where he could tell you were trouble from the day he met you. (You're an annoyance, but not an enemy)
entropy ☼ ☽
The one where you both blur the lines between annoyance and admiration. (the promise of becoming partners in crime)
buddy system 4.2k ☼
The one where he comes with you to rescue your younger twin brothers, Pollux & Castor. (this is as close to a real quest that Mr. D will give you--might as well take someone you trust!)
somebody's angel 4.4k ☽
The one where you convince him he’s pretty, even with a scar. (songfic - Die Alone - Finneas)
feed the fire 1.2k ☼
The one where his focus is not on spilled food, but on you. (Luke realizes this is more than playful banter)
bedtime stories 2.4k ☼
The one where night shift with him runs late, but you don’t mind at all. (the both of you have feelings you want to admit, but duty calls!)
crazy little thing 3.4k ☼
The one where he uses all his drachmas to make you smile on Valentine's Day. (the Apollo kids are better matchmakers than Aphrodite, sometimes)
anything you want 1.6k ☼
The one where you and him have your first kiss. (You've always loved teaching the story of Orpheus and Eurydice; except when your Orpheus runs away from you)
said he likes crazy 2.1k ☼ ☽
The one where only he can help you with a bad day, even if he's avoided you since your first kiss. (For being a son of Hermes, he has a way of calming your nerves)
| established relationship |
play pretend 5.1k ☼
The one where Mr. D catches you two in the act, but you and him aren’t exactly together yet. (Drunk words are sober thoughts. Your dad just wishes Luke told you instead of him)
a wish your heart makes 1.4k ☼ ☽
The one where you share dreams, burn cookies, and it still reminds him of home. (The dryads will probably ban you from the kitchen after this)
chance encounters ☼
The one where you both daydream about different lives. (You think you'd find him anywhere, by soul alone)
to see the chaos through ☽
The one where he remembers he was never a good guy, just yours. (Luke makes the ultimate deal with the devil in order to save you)
not your goddess ☽
The one where you both know the best of days eventually have to come to an end. (songfic - Goddess - Laufey)
don't blame the kids ☼ ☽
The one where you both chaperone a trip to Mount Olympus. (the Olympians are bigger gossips than you thought they'd be)
trouble's coming for you 3.7k ☼
The one where Percy meets his two favorite counselors at Camp Half-Blood. (three times Percy is oblivious (and in the way) and the time he realizes you and Luke are in love)
now that we're older (LATEST ADD) 3.5k ☼
The one where he asks if you can stay the night even if all of cabin 11 makes fun of him. (Luke is tired of the routine. He just needs his girl)
if you need to be mean (be mean to me) 1.5k☽
The one where he leaves before you wake up. (songfic - I Don't Smoke - Mitski )
| post-tlt |
lovers, or partners in crime 2.1k ☽
The one where Annabeth and Percy think you’re guilty too. (the last day leading up to Luke's betrayal)
love like a blister: the five stages of loving losing luke 4.7k ☽
The one where you learn to mourn someone even if they’re still alive. (the five stages of grief after facing a loss)
to catch a thief 3.7k ☼ ☽
The one where duty calls at Camp Half-Blood. Again. (Your reunion with Luke isn't quite what you expected.)
solipsism 5.3k ☽
The one where you finally pray to Hestia to keep your home safe, even if he's also trying to destroy it. (the four times Luke uses Backbiter to visit you during college ft. the first time you trust a god to help you)
angel with a broken wing ☼ ☽
The one where he falls from grace and still thinks of you. (the four women Luke Castellan risked it for and how it will end up killing him)
your grief looks just like mine ☼
The one where he meets you at his mother's house, though both of you didn't expect the other to be there. (a glimpse into May Castellan's idea of a perfect day)
when the curtains close ☽
The one where he hurts your family, and you lose two people in the Labyrinth that day. All strings are cut. (Your hands were bound to get bloody because of Luke, you just wish it didn't have to be this way)
asking for trouble ☽
The one where Luke's final wish is to see you. (He's himself again, and all he wants is to find out if the trouble was worth it all)
as above, so below ☼ ☽
The one where you plead your case with the gods of Olympus. (The one thing the fates didn't expect was how much you'd both be like your fathers; in a way, you and Luke didn't see it coming either)
ask to be added to luke/general taglist 🥹
luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @nininehaaa @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @lilacspider @theadventuresofanartist @sucker4seresin @simpforsunwoo @zanzie @starrystormwritings @silver007 @sunny747 @huang-the-geek @batboygirlie @here-for-the-tea-baby @dreamsandconstellations @phtogravi @minkyungseokie @star-flecked-soul @trashmouthcharley @beedeebee @witch-lemon
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awritesthings1 · 4 months
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Gone with the Leaves
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Pairing: Tommy Shelby / Wife Reader
Summary: Despite your happy marriage to Tommy, you feel an undeniable jealousy towards Lizzie. Perhaps a day in the forest will do you some good.
ao3 link
A/N: I'm starting a tag list, comment if you want to be added :)
-
“You write like you’re running out of time,” mused Lizzie Stark, former prostitute, now Tommy’s secretary. “They have typewriters for those types of things, y’know?”
You saw the volley of cannonballs that launched and subsequently landed on Tommy’s desk as the words left her mouth. It wasn’t that you expected more of poor old plain Lizzie, but you thought that the time she had spent lying on her back staring past the shoulder of a customer at the ceiling would have taught her to read a room. Nevertheless, she stood there, quite amused with herself, smiling stupidly at your husband.
Tommy, who had been sitting at his desk all afternoon attending to letters, the ledger, and god knows what else, peered up from the paper. “What did you say?”
This time, it was your turn to be amused. He pointed accusingly at Lizzie, who by then had realised her impetuous mistake. Her wide eyes fluttered to you desperately, like a bee that had indulged itself in so much pollen that it became stuck in its own honey. No, that was putting it lightly. She looked to you like a frightened child who knew exactly what kind of trouble they were in.
You made sure you looked the other way.
“It was only a silly joke,” came her spluttering apology.
Tommy squinted, and his mouth curled into a frown. Smoke chased the deep exhale from the cigarette hanging between his lips. Your husband carried this terrifying look to him that many feared. Without the peaky cap to cover his striking blue eyes, you saw his glare cut away the cords in Lizzie’s throat with just one look. How could poor Lizzie defend herself from eyes that had witnessed nightmarish things?
“I’m not clear. Is it funny that I sign my letters by hand, or are you above using ink now that you have graduated from the bed to the desk?”
Lizzie’s mouth wormed into a thin line, yet she still looked to you for help. Of what help she thought you would possibly spare, you weren’t sure. For once, Lizzie used initiative and showed herself out.
Your heels clacked across the wooden threshold of your husband’s office. Now that no one was there to disturb you both, you sat down on Tommy’s lap. By then, he was leaning back on his chair, work abandoned for the time being until he could wash the sour sight of Lizzie Stark from his eyes.
“You know I don’t like her,” you said plainly.
There was no need for fake smiles or lies with Tommy. You knew him, and he knew you.
Tommy exhaled loudly, stubbing out the last of his cigarette on his ashtray and taking a swig of whiskey before his calloused hand found your waist.
He clears his throat. “It’s only business with her.”
“I know, but that doesn’t mean I like her any less.”
Tommy loved you, not Lizzie Stark, yet you couldn’t stomach the undeniable jealousy that arose with her presence. Perhaps it was a natural inclination women had toward their lovers. Lizzie had never done anything outwardly wrong to you. So, what was it then that turned your plain teeth into hissing fangs?
Everyone knew that Tommy was one of her paying customers before you met him, but so were all of Small Heath. You never felt insecure in your relationship with Tommy; there was no need to feel threatened by a prostitute. Yet that wouldn’t stop the catty feline that emerged from its slumber when Lizzie’s wandering eyes battered at your husband.
No. Lizzie Stark would never know what it felt like to be loved by a man like Tommy. What you held in your hands each night was a transcendental, unconditional type of love—one that surpassed the heart and soul, which drew two beings together in the most unconventional yet fitting way. The way that covers kept you warm at night, Tommy watched over your hearth and kept the fire burning, even if he were on the other side of the country.
You closed your eyes, leaning into the valley between Tommy’s neck and shoulder as you listened for the bah-dum-bah-dum of his heart. They sat together in silence, cherishing each other’s presence, while Tommy rested his cheek on your head. Outside, the world waited, barking at their front door and scratching at the delicately carved wood. Even the rain lashed at the windowpanes, playing together like one elemental orchestra.
The hand not resting on your waist rose to gently stroke up and down your arm. You shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold.
“I think you have some work to attend to in the bedroom,” you mumbled into his neck.
Your nose searched for the spot where he applied his aftershave.
“Eh?” Came his gruff response.
Your hand wandered down his suit in answer.
-
The sheets were bundled around Tommy’s naked waist when you sauntered back over to the bed with his case of cigarettes in hand. Gratefully, he took the case from your hand, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to pull you into the warmth of his chest. Then he began the usual routine. He fished out a cigarette to offer, but you shook your head no, so he slid it once, then twice, across his bottom lip. On the bedside table, he grabbed the half-empty matchbox to light the cigarette.
Tommy was the resident chain smoker in your house. With an appetite for tobacco and whiskey, you often wondered just how he sustained himself throughout the day. Of course, there were the home-cooked meals at Arrow House waiting for his return, although that didn’t stop you from worrying any less. It was pathetic, really, sitting all alone in his study, twiddling your fingers, and sitting beneath his portrait like you were praying to him. Tommy was no god, no matter how much he tried to convince everyone else. Yet whenever headlights passed the window and lit up the office momentarily, you would stand up and peer out, hoping to spot your husband exiting the car.
He cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to the present. You loved watching the way the cigarette shifted between his lips when he spoke, even more when his hooded eyes looked over at you. Tommy was a man of few words, simply because he didn’t need language to communicate. His body spoke for him in tongues for all his enemies to understand. And more importantly, in a way your body understood.
Your hand abandoned his tattoo to stroke a thumb across his full bottom lip. Lust swelled there, eager to chase the rest of the night away into a haze of pleasure until the sun rose. As tempting as it was, you sighed at the thought. You would rather spend this time taking in your husband, remembering the fine details across his face and body, from the scar in the hollow of his cheek to the rough texture beneath his shoulder blade where a bullet was once lodged. You wanted to trace the sockets of his eyes the way a blind person would, treasuring each valley, mountain, and cut of skin as if it were to disappear the second you stopped touching him.
“You’re beautiful,” you decided, bathed in candlelight, tangled up between the sheets and Tommy’s arms.
Tommy’s brows furrowed, and the cigarette hung dangerously loose from where his lips curled into a frown. He grunted, clearly dissatisfied with your words. Tommy wasn’t beautiful. He was hard, ambitious, and unmovable force.
Beautiful was a conventional word savored for the finest women. To you? It meant so much more. Crafted in a way that would cause people to stare, sure, but there was also a poetic sense to the word. The type of beauty you would use to describe a well-written novel or heart-wrenching poem. Thomas Shelby stood for something, and that was beautiful.
“Then what are you, eh?”
A lazy smile floated onto your face, so much so that you had to bite your lip to refrain from looking devastatingly pleased at his answer.
A woman, a dreamer, a friend, a reader, an achiever. “A wife.”
He huffed, raising his eyebrows playfully.
Why was it that most women felt like they could only fit the frame of one? With Tommy, you were never limited to the endless possibilities. You treasured being a wife the same way you treasured your other roles. Marriage wasn’t the end all be all. Perhaps that’s another lie men spun—that perfectly capable women stopped existing as soon as a diamond ring slid onto their finger. How sad, you thought, to waste away all that potential when men were still free to pursue stupid ideas like war and dog fights.
Tommy was unbothered by traditional ideas like that. Change powered his ambition; he had no time for parallel lines. You could be his wife, a writer, a singer, or a mother—whatever you wanted—and he wouldn’t think of you any less.
You hummed, chasing that cigarette from his lips and stubbing it out in the ash tray by his bedside table. Tommy didn’t seem too heartbroken about it. In fact, there was some mirth in his gaze. His hands traced up your naked spine, pulling your body further into his until you could smell the smoke in his breath.
“Yes,” he breathed in loudly through his nose, “my wife.”
-
The following day, you were invited to the Basnett's hunting party. You would’ve been more enthusiastic to write about your excitement to attend if the whole ordeal hadn’t been so troublesome. Because a few days prior, when you were visiting your husband’s office, you had caught sight of the letter on Lizzie’s desk, a letter that was supposed to reach you days earlier.
“What’s this?” You asked.
“Oh, nothing interesting,” Lizzie had said, too occupied with filing her nails while on the clock.
You kept your composure for the sake of keeping the peace. You didn’t wish to disturb Tommy if he were to walk by.
“This is a letter addressed to me,” you pressed.
“Oh.” She stopped for a moment, then leaned over to read the letter you had pulled from the messy pile. “No, it’s addressed to Tommy.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Shelby,” you hissed quietly, with emphasis on the missus.
“Hm, I didn’t notice.”
“You are paid to notice.” You fought the urge to comment that she was paid for other things not long ago. “How long has this been sitting here?”
Lizzie tapped her cigarette ash into the tray. “The post boy dropped that lot off yesterday.”
Even if it was only two days late to reach your hand, by society’s standards, that may have well been taken as you snubbing the invitation. Frustratingly, you had to cancel your plans that day and personally deliver your letter to the Basnett’s door, citing some excuse of it having been lost in the post.
“That woman is up to no good.” You said glumly that night into Tommy’s chest.
“I’ll speak to her,” he promised in that stoic tone of his.
Whether he had been true to his words, you weren’t sure because Lizzie made an effort to avoid you when possible.
“Oh! Mrs. Shelby! How wonderful for you to join us! Come in, come in. The men are readying their rifles for the hunt outside. How exciting!” Gushed Lady Basnett, shooing you into the atrium of her lavish mansion.
Your riding boots clacked across the floor before being muffled by an intricately woven rug. You stared up at the chandelier, childishly wondering if it would hit you if it were to fall at that moment.
“Right this way, Mrs. Shelby!” Lady Basnett ushered excitably.
You debated if all her energy was for show—to please her husband and be the good wife he expected of her. After she showed you through to the veranda and down to the circle of wives who had gathered under the trees while their husbands readied for the hunt, you decided that no, she must truly enjoy planning social occasions like this, as evidenced by the way she kissed Sarah’s cheek in greeting with a wide grin.
It pleased you to know that Lady Basnett found joy in something. Ever since her eldest died in the war, she has been known to be a bit of a recluse.
“Oh, what a beautiful ring! May we see it?” Doe-eyed Catherine asked.
She was one of the younger wives, like yourself. Catherine married an older man, twice her senior. Many of the wives here faulted her for it behind her back, but not you. You saw more of yourself in her than you did in any of the other women. Because, despite the age gap, the girl seemed to be utterly head-over-heels in love with a man society deemed old-fashioned for her. And how could you blame her when you swore an oath to a gangster of all people?
You obliged and let the wives twist and turn your hand to better inspect the diamonds on your ring finger.
“It’s perfect!”
“How many carats?”
“My Mary would be so jealous!”
After dutifully showing your wedding ring, you noticed the men beginning to mount their horses.
Catherine hooked her arm around yours. “Come on, we are going to be left behind!”
She jovially pulled you along the stone tiles at a speed that made you grateful for wearing riding boots. The backyard was grand in the sense that the acres they owned stretched vastly into the nearby forest. Although there were impressive features, like the hedge they had grown into a maze and the trees that were shaped into birds.
“Lady Basnett owned an aviary of budgies. Dear little things they were, she was devastated when they all escaped one night after the groundskeeper forgot to close the door,” Catherine commented, having noticed the way your head was turned.
You laughed, because you could precisely picture Lady Basnett as the type to fawn over little budgies.
Catherine led you to the horses, where some of the wives were already perched, waiting for the party to leave. None of them carried rifles, but rather wicker baskets strapped to the saddle for the picnic they planned to have at the top of the hill while they waited for their husbands to finish hunting.
Together, you set off, having mounted the back of Catherine’s mare. Deeper into the forest you went, the black mare trotting over loose dirt and rocks. Both of you remained at the end of the pack, preferring to keep to yourselves in light conversation.
Then it all happened so suddenly. One of the rifles went off up ahead, and a flock of birds rushed at you from the break in the foliage, startling your mare. You gasped in shock and reached for Catherine’s jacket to hold on, but only skimmed her. She went face first into the dirt while you were swept into the air like a leaf and fell with the grace of a rock. The ground thundered as the mare galloped into the distance.
“Fuck!” Catherine spat.
(On her fall she had taken a mouthful of soil and leaves.)
“They’ll come back,” you tried to reassure her.
-
Hours later, the two of you still had not been found.
“I was a prostitute before George found me, y’know.”
No, you didn’t know.
“That’s why I’m so young and he so old,” she smiled fondly, laughing as if it were the most normal thing.
You couldn’t find it in your heart to dislike her because of her circumstances. She was your friend, and a true one at that.
What was it that Tommy said? The past is the past.
-
The sun began to set when one of the men from the hunting party found you both huddled together under a tree. Kindly, he let the two of you ride the rest of the way back despite your hesitance to mount another horse.
When you returned to Lady Basnett’s, with Catherine in arm, the sun had been set for at least two hours. You hadn’t realized what trouble you had gotten yourself into until you noticed Tommy’s Bentley parked in the crowded driveway of the mansion. Men stood at the gate, armed and waiting. Catherine opened her mouth to remark how ridiculous it was, but you kept your lips sealed after recognizing the guards to be Peaky Blinders.
Tommy had to be beside himself.
A young boy who was playing between the cars popped his head out when the gates squealed open. His ears perked up, and he ran inside, clutching his peaky cap, to probably inform the adults inside of your arrival. People pooled out onto the front steps, the women covering their hearts and sighing with relief, and the men holding their hats to their chests. But when your husband, Tommy, came storming out, they parted like the red sea.
He stalked across the gravel like a predator, his eyes trained on you with an unblinking stare.
“Are you hurt?” He ignored Catherine, cupping your face and frantically looking between both your eyes as if you would disappear.
Upon further inspection, his eyes were bloodshot, and the white sleeves of his blouse were bundled into the golden garters. Your hands itched to muse his disheveled hair into place, but with all the curious onlookers, you thought better of it.
“No.”
George, Catherine’s husband, was quick to whisk her away inside. You heard Lady Basnett’s voice trailing after them: “Oh my, what a terrible thing. Come now, let me pour you some tea.”
Unfortunately, tea wouldn’t make up for any lost ground with Tommy.
“We’re going.”
You knew better to open your mouth to disagree. This was Tommy being afraid and carrying on. He retreated into himself. It didn’t look pretty or like he cared, but he cared; you knew he cared. It was only that no one else was allowed to know that the great Thomas Shelby felt any emotion.
At Arrow House, he swallowed two glasses of whiskey before saying a word. You were pulling at the hem of the overcoat that Tommy had shook off his shoulders to give you for the ride home. Your fingers just couldn’t stand the anxious silence that rang throughout the room.
“What the fuck happened?”
He stood in front of you, stoic as a soldier but cracking around the exterior thanks to his hand, which itched for the cigarette case inside his pocket. (A nervous tick of his.) You grab his hand between your own before he can fish out the case.
“The horse got spooked. It bucked Catherine and me off, but we’re fine.”
His thumb rubs across your knuckles as he looks past your shoulder out the window.
“Do you know where I was when I got the call? Eh? I was handling some business when Lizzie came in and told me some posh old woman was on the line, saying you were missing.”
He exhaled sharply, dropping his gaze to you, where you noticed his eyes soften.
“I thought…” He broke off.
His chin dropped, and he went to itch his nose with his other hand.
“What did you think happened? Is there something I should know about?” Concern leaked into your voice.
“No,” he huffed, clearing his throat. “It doesn’t matter. You’re home, and you’re safe.”
You bit your lip to stop yourself from saying anything that might push him over the edge. He was fragile in a state like this in the sense that he pushed the stronger, more vivid feelings to the side because you were his wife, not a Peaky Blinder. No, you would never be, even though you married one.
Often, you would wish you could turn into the leaves that swept off the pavement and into the air. Imagine then how much easier life would be for you both—to forget the animosity of life and rise above it all, breathe in that crystal air, and then finally exclaim the truth because up there no one could hear them or cared enough to try anyway.
Cautiously, you let go of his hand and traced your fingertips up to knead away the tension in his jaw.
“Thomas… Do you remember what you asked of me? To help you with the whole fucking thing—”
“From now on—”
“Thomas—”
“From now on, let me know where you are going. I will organize a guard to watch over you.”
‘You write like you’re running out of time,’ Lizzie’s poorly placed joke from the start of the week reverberated in your skull.
Was he?
“I need you,” he breathed, the smell of whiskey fanning over your senses.
You nodded, pressing up on your toes to kiss him. A soft breath escaped him when you pulled away.
“You have me.”
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garrison-girl-08 · 1 year
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Hello! Could you write a fanfiction in which someone hurt the reader (wife) and she didn't tell Thomas until he found out himself. Maybe he saw bruises on her body? Thank you girly❤️
Damn! I'm a sucker for protective Tommy. You got me with this one x
A Small Mishap
Pairing- Thomas Shelby and Reader
Warnings- swearing, mention of violence 18+
Tags- @romanogersendgame @loveableasshole @goldensunflowe-r @captivatedbycillianmurphy @namelesslosers @lauren-raines-x @katsav17 @fairypitou @answer-the-sirens @vxrixnt @kathrinemelissa @kaybeeboop @cloudofdisney @geminiwolves @datewithgianni @lyarr24 @ysmmsy @sixbillionpieces @morgana-olson @mysticaldeanvoidhorse @kaleid0sc0pe @dolllol2405 @queenies1x1 @agirlcandream84 @missymurphy1985 @mgkobsessed @alreadybroken-ts @peaky-cillian @whitejuliana1204 @look-at-the-soul @goldensunflowe-r @lespendy @cillmequick @raychhh @cdauniverse-blog @watercolorskyy @cillybillyy @everyonesawhore @kaitieskidmore1 @midnightmagpiemama @castellandiangelo @babayaga67 @thenattitude @forgottenpeakywriter @elenavampire21 @camilleholland89
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"Shit, shit, shit," Isaiah blurted out, as he helped you up off the floor. He was meant to be walking you home. But, a fight had broken out in the pub. Men drunk after a day of losing money.
They had been thrown out onto the street, of course. Plenty of peaky men around to sort out trouble. It had all started, just as your shift was ending. Chairs had been thrown, glasses smashed, as chaos ensued.
You were Thomas Shelby's wife, no one dared look at you. Let alone shove you out of the way. Luckily, you had only bounced off a chair, landing on the floor. Some bruised ribs, and a bump on the back of your head.
You would live. No one else would, if Tommy found out.
"Why are you panicking?" you queried, brushing your dress down again. This was bloody new! Now it was full of stale beer.
"Mrs Shelby.." he began, but you shoved his shoulder.
"Sorry, Y/n. You know what Tom’s like, when it comes to you. I'm dead, I'm a fucking dead man. Before I'm twenty one." his Birmingham accent was deep, as he panicked. Pacing the pub.
“No one is dead, for goodness sake,” you chastised Isaiah. “It will be fine, you are over reacting. We just keep quiet,”
Still muttering under his breath, he walked you home. Making sure you got inside, before he scooted off. The light was on upstairs, Tommy must be home. Making your way up to find him, you plastered a smile on your face.
Ignoring the pain in your ribs, ignoring the dull ache in your head.
You found Tommy in the bath, in front of the fire. Clothes discarded on a chair, stained with blood. Something had happened. Sensing your presence, he turned his head.
“Here she is, ey,” he mused, “My beloved wife,”
Kneeling next to him, you kissed his full lips. “You’re home early, Tommy,” you noted. Ignoring the stained clothes there. Ask no questions, hear no lies.
“It’s late, princess. And you’re back late, was it busy?” He asked. Shit, you hadn’t realised how late it actually was.
“Hmm,” you responded, as you stood back up. Deciding to just go to bed, catching your hand he pulled you back. A grin on his face.
“Why don’t you come in here, and join me?” He queried, wet hands snaking along your body. Smiling, you bent to kiss him again. Thinking of an excuse, so he wouldn’t see your injuries.
“I’ve got a headache, Tommy,” you lied, “I’m just going to go to bed,” Stroking your cheek, he nodded.
“Ok, I won’t be long,” he assured you. As you left him to go to bed.
Quickly stripping, you observed yourself in the mirror. The side of your ribs now purple, and sore. Wincing you slipped your nightie on, and climbed into bed.
When you woke the next morning, you found yourself alone. Head pounding, from where you had banged it. Groaning, you rolled over. Realising the house was quiet, Tommy must have left early for work.
You just hoped no gossip from the pub, had reached him. You knew how he could over react. Slipping from the bed, you lifted your nightie. Standing in front of the mirror, “Shit,” you sighed.
This bruise was going to be hard to hide. You could always say you had your period. Yeah, that was a good plan.
“What the fuck is that?!” You heard the voice of your husband, from the doorway.
Gasping, you jumped with shock. Thinking he had gone to work already. But no, here he was.
Standing in the doorway, with a pot of tea for you. Slamming the teapot and cup down, he strode over to you. Lifting your nightie back up.
“Oh… it’s nothing Tommy. Just a small mishap,” You answered, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him good morning.
“A mishap!!” He vented. “A fucking mishap!”
Bending down to look, you hissed as he touched your skin. “Start talking Y/n, or I will hunt everyone in Small Heath down to find out,”
Walking to the nightstand, you picked up your tea. Sipping slowly, “Thomas..” you started, as you fluttered your lashes at him.
“No,” he warned you, “That’s not going to work, and don’t Thomas me. Start talking,”
Huffing, you gently lowered yourself onto the bed. “I’m not one of your men. I am your wife, so please don’t speak to me like that,”
“Sorry,” he mumbled, as he lit a cigarette. Waiting to hear your story, impatiently tapping his foot.
"There was a little scuffle in the pub, that's all. I got in the way, but I'm fine," you smiled, sipping your tea. Oooh, you would need to take something for this headache.
"A little scuffle!!" he shouted, "Who put their hands on my wife, ey?!! I want the name, Y/n!"
"Thomas, you are over reacting. It was a..."
"Yeah, mishap," he cut you off, now dragging his suit jacket on. "His name, Y/n. I will find out, you know I will,"
Rolling your eyes, you placed your favourite china cup down. And walked towards him, placing your hands gently on his biceps. "I don't know the name, it was an accident. So please, just don't go and get into a fight,"
Holding your face, he sighed. "I love you, baby," He led you towards the bed, "You rest, I will be back soon, yeah?" Winking, he walked away.
"Tommy!" you called after him, but you knew any argument was futile. You just felt sorry for the poor man.
It was only a small mishap.
6K notes · View notes
acey-wacey · 1 year
Note
Hi hi! Could I order a scenario of how Jade and Floyd would react to MC hiding behind them because they’re being chased by bullies?? Maybe grabbing onto the tweels (о´∀`о)
I like to think they’d be surprised of someone hiding BEHIND them instead of FROM them lol..
I'm a sucker for platonic tweels! This is my lifeline rn!!
...
Shrimpy Protection Agency
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Three of the more troublesome NRC seniors decided that they weren't too pleased with all the attention you were getting, having been in Twisted Wonderland for only a few months.
The students decided to corner you in the hallway, much to your surprise and demand that you apologize for the trouble you've stirred up.
When you refused, they accused you of being disrespectful and threatened to hurt you if you didn't start respecting your upperclassmen.
Through your fear, you managed to slip between the students and make a break for it.
You knew they were older, stronger, and faster than you so you wouldn't be able to outrun them.
Your only hope was to hide.
You frantically searched for a place to hide as you sprinted into the courtyard.
You were hoping someone would be there to stop the upperclassmen from pummeling you but it was empty.
No, not empty.
On the very far side of the courtyard, hidden in the shadows, the Leech twins stood, both looking mildly bored.
"Jade! Floyd!"
They both perked up upon hearing your voice.
What was excitement to see you, quickly became confusion as you ran to them and wrapped your arms around Floyd's torso from the back, shielding yourself from your pursuers.
Jade almost never showed his emotions on his face which made it all the more terrifying when his expression darkened as the bullies followed you to the courtyard.
All three of them stopped in their tracks when they saw the intimidating look on Jade's face, worsened by the wide-eyed and manic Floyd.
It wasn't usual to see either of them, especially Jade, without their signature customer service smile on, even when threatening someone, but when it came to you, there wasn't any pleasantry.
They didn't even try to pretend like your bullies weren't in danger.
"I will give you 5 seconds of silence before I begin my pursuit," whispered Jade, though the attackers heard him loud and clear in the echoey silence of the courtyard.
The one that appeared to be the leader scoffed and nervously chuckled.
"You're just a second-year. I'm not afraid of you. And I sure as he11 wouldn't need a headstart."
"Oh, you misunderstand," Floyd laughed, his eyes still crazed. "Five seconds wouldn't help you for a headstart. We're giving you a chance to pray to every God who'll bother to listen to a pathetic bottom-feeder like you."
"You're monsters!" one of the goons screeched after a few seconds of listening to their panicked breathing. Both twins just smiled in the same unsettling form.
"That bridge was burned a lot time ago, my friend," Jade chuckled menacingly before he went back to staring into the bullies' souls. "5."
"Listen, dude! We were just messing around!"
"4."
"Okay, you're seriously starting to freak me out!"
"Better get on that praying then. 3."
"I'm gonna... tell the headmaster!"
"Oh, I'm so scared. 2."
"Guys, let's get out of here!"
"That little shrimp isn't worth this."
"Only I get to call them that!" Floyd screamed after the goons as they stumbled over themselves to get away.
You could hear the bullies leaving but you still slayed firmly attached to Floyd.
"I'm a touch offended you didn't latch into me that way. Do you trust Floyd more than me?"
You looked up to see Jade smirking at you with his usual calm composure, much opposed to his "predator mode".
"I'm sorry," you sniffled, though you all knew you didn't really mean it. "Next time, I'll hide behind you instead."
"Oh, no, no, no, Shrimpy," Floyd glared at you. You could tell it wasn't directed at you specifically but it was still intimidating. "There's not going to be a next time."
"At least we can agree on that note, brother dearest," Jade mused, brushing a hair behind your ear. "We'll make sure no one will ever mess with you again, Y/N."
"What are you going to do?"
"Well, that's a secret," Jade put a finger to his lips and you could see the angry fire behind his eyes.
"You can hug me anytime you want though, Shrimpy!" Floyd chimed in cheerily. You laughed and leaned into his chest.
"Thank you so much. I don't know what I would've done with out you," you sighed and grabbed Jade's hand, tugging him into a group hug. "I love you. Both of you."
Jade wasn't usually particularly affection and Floyd didn't often practice restraint but both of them cared enough about you to just smother you in a brotherly hug, as long as it will make you happy.
Jade and Floyd made eye contact over your shoulder, making a silent agreement to break every bone in your bullies' bodies and make it look like an accident.
7K notes · View notes
fragileheartbeats · 3 months
Text
໒꒱ ⌒    。  𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐄 ★ · ⟆ ﹏ !
⠀ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏  ﹙🪽﹚ 夢のような放心状態 ୨ৎ   .   .   .
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ㅤ ♡ᰍㅤ۪ㅤartist : ﹫kyokawa_22 on Twitterㅤ۫ㅤ𔓘ㅤ꒱
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀꒰͡ ⠀ ִ 𝐽 𝐽 𝐾 𝑀 𝑒 𝑛 𝑥 𝐹 𝑒 𝑚 𝑅 𝑒 𝑎 𝑑 𝑒 𝑟 ⠀ׂ ⠀ ͡꒱
ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ♡ㅤ𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶ㅤ۫ㅤ𝅄ㅤೀ
— 𝘚𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘶, 𝘔𝘦𝘨𝘶𝘮𝘪, 𝘠𝘶𝘫𝘪, 𝘚𝘶𝘬𝘶𝘯𝘢, 𝘒𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘰, 𝘚𝘶𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘶, 𝘛𝘰𝘫𝘪, 𝘊𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘰, 𝘠𝘶𝘵𝘢, 𝘛𝘰𝘨𝘦 <3
˚꒰🌼꒱‧ Hi there! Before you read this, you should know that English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!
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ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 | 五条 悟 ─ 𓇼 . ♡𝆬
The sun sets low on the horizon, As he looks at his lover with love, His heart beating with a passionate rhythm, As he watches the gentle curves of her face.
With each passing moment, his love grows, Filling him with a warmth he cannot deny, He longs to hold her close, never letting go, For she is the missing piece to his puzzle.
Her eyes, like pools of deep e/c, Captivate him and hold his gaze, He cannot look away, for fear of losing, The one thing that brings him happiness.
The soft breeze carries her laughter, And it soothes his weary soul, For in her presence, he feels whole, And all his troubles are forgotten.
He remembers the first time they met, And how her smile lit up his world, He knew from that moment on, That she was the one he had been searching for.
The way her hair falls around her face, Glistening in the fading light, It takes his breath away, And he counts his blessings for having her in his life.
He reaches out to touch her, But she is just an illusion in his mind, For she is gone, never to return, And his heart breaks all over again.
Tears fall silently down his cheeks, As he watches her fade into the night, He knows he can never truly have her, But still, he holds on to their memories tight.
For even though she is not physically there, She will always hold a special place in his heart, And the love that he feels for her, Will never truly die, even when they are apart.
ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 | 伏黒 恵 ─ 𔒌 . ♡𝆬
He stands there in awe, watching her every move, Mesmerized by her beauty, so graceful and smooth. His lover, his confidant, his greatest treasure, His heart beats faster, his love knows no measure. Her eyes, like stars, shining so bright, Her smile, like sunshine, chasing away the night. He can't help but smile, feeling so blessed, To have her in his life, his love always confessed. She looks at him with those eyes, full of love, And he can't believe it's real, like a gift from above. His heart swells with emotions, too great to contain, He knows in that moment, nothing can ever cause him pain. He takes her hand, and pulls her close, Feeling her warmth, he's loves overdose. Her touch, her scent, fills his soul, He knows in her arms, he's finally whole. He whispers sweet words, words of love, And she listens, like an angel from above. Her voice, like music, soothes his soul, Making him feel complete, making him feel whole. He kisses her lips, so soft and sweet, Their love so pure, their love so deep. He never wants to let her go, For she's the one who makes his heart glow. As they dance under the stars, in each other's embrace, He knows in her arms, is his favorite place. His love for her, limitless and true, For she's his everything, his lover, his muse. And as the night comes to an end, He looks at her with love, his best friend. He knows in his heart, this love will never fade, For she's his everything, his lover, his soulmate.
ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐘𝐔𝐉𝐈 𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈 | 虎杖 悠仁 ─ 𓐐𓎩 . ♡𝆬
He sat there, gazing at her with pure adoration, His heart overflowing with love, no hesitation. Watching her every move, his eyes never stray, For her beauty captivates him in every single way. From the way her hair falls, to the curve of her smile, He could watch her for hours, never tiring, not even for a while. Her eyes, a sea of emotion, shining bright, Reflecting the depth of their love, with each and every light. As she moves gracefully, like a ballerina in a dream, He's lost in the moment, nothing else in his mind seems. Her laughter, like music, a symphony in his ears, Bringing him joy and happiness, beyond his wildest fears. With every breath she takes, his heart beats a little faster, Her presence, a blessing, filling his life with laughter. Her touch, like magic, igniting a fire within, A love so pure, it feels almost like a sin. He can't imagine a life without her by his side, For she's his everything, his heart, his soul, his pride. As she looks at him with those eyes, so filled with trust, He knows in that moment, their love is more than just. He reaches for her hand, intertwining their fingers, Feeling a sense of completeness, as his heart lingers. Their love, a bond that surpasses all boundaries, A love that will withstand any life's uncertainties. In this world full of chaos, she's his sense of calm, She's his light in the dark, his healing balm. Every day, he thanks the stars above, For blessing him with a love so pure, and a lover to love.
ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 | 宿儺 ─ 𓇢𓆸 . ♡𝆬
The room is dim and cold, But his gaze burns like fire. Staring at her with love untold, His heart filled with desire. Though his nature is cruel, Her beauty softens his heart. And in her eyes, he sees a jewel, A priceless piece of art. He knows his faults, But she sees past them all. In her arms, he halts, As she breaks down his wall. He never thought he'd feel, Anything but rage and hate. But with her, it's all so real, A love that he can't negate. His touch is rough and harsh, But his heart beats for her. Though his words often pierce and lash, Her love remains pure. He was once a cold-hearted man, But she thawed his icy soul. With her, he feels alive again, No longer in control. He knows he doesn't deserve her, But she stands by his side. In her love, he finds shelter, A place where he can hide. He may be cruel to others, But with her, he is kind. In her arms, he discovers, A love he never thought he'd find. And so he stands, looking at her, With love in his cruel eyes. For she is the only one, his lover, Who sees through his disguise.
ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 | 七海 建人 ─ ☘︎ . ♡𝆬
With eyes as deep as oceans, He gazes upon his love, Heart bursting with pure emotion, And the stars shine from above. Her beauty is unmatched, In his eyes she's perfection, Every moment spent with her, Is like a sweet addiction. Her laughter, like music, Fills his soul with pure delight, Casting away any darkness, With its warm and gentle light. He can't help but smile, As she looks back at him, For in her loving gaze, He sees his entire world within. Her touch is like magic, Sending shivers down his spine, He never wants to let go, For she is his greatest find. He longs to hold her close, And feel her heartbeat against his, Whispering words of love, In each and every kiss. They've been through it all, The highs and the lows, But together they've conquered, All their fears and woes. He knows he's found his soulmate, In this woman he holds dear, And he thanks the heavens, For bringing her near. With love that knows no limits, He'll stand by her side, Through every storm and struggle, Their love will forever abide. So as he looks upon her, With all the love in his heart, He knows that she's his forever, And they'll never be apart.
ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 | 夏油 傑 ─ 𓆉 . ♡𝆬
As the rain poured down on the deserted streets, A man stood alone, with a heart full of deceit. His eyes locked on his lover, standing near, But the love he felt, came with a sneer. For this man was cruel, and heartless too, No one knew the darkness, that he kept in lieu. But as he stared at his lover, so pure and true, His heart ached with a love, he couldn't undo. He longed to hold her, to kiss her sweet lips, But his anger and hatred, were his only grips. He wanted to tell her, how much he cared, But his twisted nature, left his love ensnared. A tear fell from his eye, as he watched her smile, For she was the only one, who could break his vile. He wanted to tell her, how sorry he was, But his pride and ego, were his biggest cause. The way she looked at him, with eyes full of adoration, Made him wonder, if he was worthy of her affection. For she showed him a love, he never knew, A love that was pure, and so true. But he, was scared to show, The love he felt, the softness that glowed. So he stood there, with a heart full of love, But his actions and words, were far from enough. He knew he didn't deserve, the love she gave, But he couldn't let her go, he was her willing slave. His cruelty and anger, were his only shield, But deep down inside, his love was unconcealed. As the rain continued to pour, the man couldn't move, For he was overwhelmed, by the love he couldn't prove. So he just stood there, with a heart full of pain, Hoping one day, his love would not be in vain.
ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 | 伏黒甚爾 ─ 𓆤 . ♡𝆬
He stood across the room, His heart heavy with despair, In his arms, he held his lover, With pain, written all over her. He looked at her with love, A love that was once vibrant, But now shattered and broken, Like a mirror never to be mended. He remembered the days, When she was his ray of light, Her smile could light up his world, But now, she had lost her spark. He longed for the days, When they were happy and whole, But now, they were just fragments, Of a beautiful love they used to know. He wanted to hold her, to mend her, To make her whole again, But he knew deep down, That their love was beyond repair. He couldn't help but feel guilty, For not being able to save her, He had promised to always protect her, But he had failed to keep his word. Tears streamed down his face, As he gazed at her broken form, He knew he had to let her go, For her own good, he had to be strong. He kissed her forehead gently, Whispering words of love and goodbye, For though their love was broken, His love for her would never die. He took one last look at her, His heart heavy and shattered, But he knew he had to move on, For their love story had now ended. He walked away with a heavy heart, Leaving behind the woman he loved, But he knew in his heart, That she would always be his one true love.
ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎 | 脹相 ─ 𖤣𖥧 . ♡𝆬
His love for her runs deep, A feeling he cannot keep. As he gazes into her eyes, The world around him dies. In this moment, all he sees, Is the beauty and grace of she. A masterpiece in every way, His heart in her hands, she'll sway. His love for her, pure and true, Infinite, like the ocean blue. With every breath, he feels, A love that forever reels. Her touch, a blissful fire, His heart, a captive wire. Her smile, a beacon of light, Guiding him through the darkest night. He could search the whole world over, But would never find another, A lover with a heart so kind, A soul that forever intertwined. In her arms, he finds solace, His heart in her love, he'll place. For her, he would cross any sea, Just to prove his love's honesty. With every glance, he's reminded, Of the love they have unbounded. In this moment, he knows, She's his forever, wherever they go. So he looks at her with love, A love that fits like a glove. And in her eyes, he sees, A love that's meant to be.
ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐘𝐔𝐓𝐀 𝐎𝐊𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐒𝐔 | 乙骨 憂太 ─ ✉ . ♡𝆬
In the stillness of the night, As the stars danced in the sky, He gazed upon his lover, With love shining in his eyes.
She lay peacefully beside him, Her hair spread out like a fan, He couldn't help but marvel, At the perfection of this woman.
His heart swelled with love, For this angel in his arms, She was his everything, His light, his shelter from harm.
He traced her delicate features, Her smooth skin against his hand, And in that moment, He knew he was the luckiest man.
For she was more than just a lover, She was his best friend, Together they had overcome, Life's trials, they had no end.
With her, he was whole, She completed his soul, And in her, he found, A love that made him whole.
He pressed a gentle kiss, On her forehead so soft, And whispered words of love, In a voice so sweet and loft.
She stirred in her sleep, And held him tight, In that moment, he knew, She was his forever, his light.
For love is not just words, But actions, feelings too, And as he looked at her, He knew his love was true.
So he held her close, And watched her slumber, For in her peaceful state, He found his heart's number.
And as the night gave way, To the dawn's first light, He whispered one last time, 'I love you, my beautiful sight.'
ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈 | 狗巻 棘 ─ ♬ . ♡𝆬
His heart beats fast, he cannot hide, The love he feels for his sweet love. With every glance, his heart takes flight, For she is his everything, his shining light. Her eyes, like stars, sparkle and shine, Such beauty, he can't believe she's his. The way she smiles, it melts his core, He knows he couldn't ask for more. As he gazes at her, lost in thought, He can't help but feel so deeply caught. In the web of love, she's spun around him, His heart so full, it feels like it could burst at the brim. His fingers trace her soft, delicate face, And he thanks his lucky stars for her embrace. For in her love, he's found his home, No longer lost, no longer alone. With every breath, he takes her in, For she is his salvation, his everlasting sin. He is consumed by her, body and soul, Her love has made him whole. He could stare at her for eternity, His love for her, a never-ending symphony. Nothing could ever measure up, To the love he feels, overflowing like a cup. With every beat of his heart, he knows it's true, He's found his forever in her, his love anew. So he continues to gaze, lost in her eyes, For she's his one true love, his forever paradise.
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MASTERLIST
@fragileheartbeats . Don't plagiarise, repost, or translate any of my works on here or any other websites.
794 notes · View notes
forever-rogue · 1 year
Note
All of your fics have me daydreaming over here 🫣
Wouldn’t it be so cute if Joel accidentally said something to you where he basically admitted that he has a crush on you, or how he finds you attractive, and how red in the face he would get- like clearing his throat and averting his gaze or trying to cover it up
Part of me also imagines it in a “miss congenitally” way where fem!reader is then teasing like “you think I’m goooorgeous, you wanna kissss me, you want to loooove me” without realizing that he’s *actually* falling for you UGH my heart
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AN | Please, this is so soft and I love this concept! 🥰 
Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader
Warnings | Language
Word Count | 2.2k
Masterlist | Joel, Main
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
You liked Joel. Really liked him. And you were fairly certain that he liked you too. But you were also fairly certain that he would never admit that he felt that way. 
So what did that leave you with? A whole lot of fun and teasing. You might as well have some fun with it, right? Right.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
“Hello there,” as soon as you spotted Joel, you flounced over to him, a big smile on your face. He was tending to his flock of his sheep, but stopped and turned around to face you. It was cold but you could still see the pink rising up in his cheeks. You were breathless by the time you reached him, heart pitter-pattering wildly in your chest, “Joel.”
“Hey sweetheart,” you liked it when he called you that. It always made your face flush up with warmth, “what’s up?”
“Nothing,” you shrugged innocently as you hopped onto the fence and made yourself comfortable, swinging your feet back and forth. He tutted softly and eyed you suspiciously, “what?”
“Nothin,’” he echoed your words, teasing you affectionately.
“What?” your eyes widened as your mouth formed a small pout, “don’t be mean!”
“I’m not,” he laughed and oh. You like the way his singular dimple showed up, and the way his eyes crinkled in the corner. He was wickedly handsome and it always made you weak. He reached over and gently brushed a few rogue locks of hair out of your face, “I just like giving you a hard time.”
“Have you ever considered not giving me a hard time?” you took some of the feed out of the bucket and tossed it to some of his sheep.
“I have,” he mused as you raised an eyebrow softly, “and I’ve decided that I will not be doing that. It’s too much fun to mess with you-”
“Hey!” 
“Affectionately,” he promised, as he watched your face go through a range of different emotions before you settled on a happy little smile, “what’re you up to you, trouble?”
“Nothing much,” you replied softly...which wasn’t a total lie. The entire truth was that you’d been looking for him because you missed him. It wasn’t even that it had been so long since you’d last seen him, you just liked being around him. You tried not to make it so obvious that you were…into him, but you weren’t sure how well you were hiding it. Considering that half of the people in Jackson teased you about it, you were pretty sure that it was…obvious, “had some time to kill and wanted to spend it with my favorite nuisance.”
“I���m the nuisance?” he scoffed playfully before pinching your side, causing you to squeal and squirm as you slid off the fence. Before you even had to worry about falling into the mud or hurting yourself, you felt a strong pair of hands wrap around your waist, “easy, trouble. Don’t want you to go hurting yourself.”
Your brain was currently consumed with the thought of him still holding onto your waist, despite the fact that he no longer needed to. You opened and closed your mouth a few times before only nodding shyly. It always seemed like he could see right into your soul, into your heart. You couldn’t hold his gaze for much longer otherwise you were sure that you’d spill all of your secrets. 
“Thank you,” you whispered, slowly and reluctantly pulling out of his grasp. You swallowed thickly, before flailing your hand around, “I-I should go. I have to do…things.”
“Things,” he repeated, his accent twanging slightly on the word, “what kind of things, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“It just so happens that I do mind you asking, Miller,” you lied, finding it easy to smile one again from the affection he so openly offered you. He wasn’t a hard man by any means, not these days anymore, but he still wasn’t so free with his heart with many people. You happened to be one of the few that he cared so deeply for, “so, I gotta get going.”
“Uh huh honey,” he watched as you slipped past him and out of the small enclosure. Before running off, you turned around to offer him a meek little wave, “have fun with those things!”
“I will!” you stuck out your tongue at him, but he was laughing, “see you around, Miller!”
“See you around,” he stood there and watched you run off, a dopey little smile on his face. He exhaled slowly, shaking his head in amusement before turning back to his little flock. 
“You guys make me sick,” Ellie popped out of nowhere and stood next to Joel, petting one of the sheep - Gort, which happened to be her favorite. Joel couldn’t help the deep belly laugh that escaped him; it made Ellie smile too. He was laughing a lot more these days and Ellie really liked that, “disgustingly cute.”
“What?” he looked at her in surprise, “her? Me?”
“Definitely her,” she felt a warm blush creep into her cheeks as well; she had a bit of a crush on you but it wasn’t anything serious. She nudged him in the ribs, “you’re pretty when you blush, don’t worry about it, Joel. But the two of you together - absolutely precious and heartwarming.”
“Ellie.”
“Just ask her out or something,” she suggested and Joel absolutely blushed and felt himself fumbling like a nervous boy rather than a grown man, “go to a movie, make her dinner, get a little act-”
“Ellie,” his eyes widened as the girl started to laugh, “don’t you dare finish that sentence, kid. You shouldn’t even know about that!”
“I just turned fifteen old man, in case you forgot,” yeah, she really liked to make him squirm, “we had a party and you were making eyes at her then too. Besides, I already know about sex, Joel. You don’t have to give me that talk.”
“Good - I wait, what were they teaching you in that FEDRA school?”
“Not the point - but you didn’t deny that you were making heart eyes,” she ducked out of his reach, giggling wildly as she ran in between the sheep, “ask her out!”
“You better keep running!” he started running after her, both of them laughing like the fools they were. 
This life really suited both of them. Now he just needed to get the girl - you.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
"Need some help?" you turned around at the sound of his voice and almost fell off your ladder in the process. He was at your side and caught you in mere moments, "whoa there, trouble. You need to start being more careful!"
"It would help if you weren't sneaking up on me all the time," you were definitely trying to ignore the fact that he was currently holding you in his arms against his chest. He laughed, deep and hearty, and you could feel the sound vibrating in his chest.
"I don't consider it sneakin' if I'm coming up to you in broad daylight and announcing my presence," he gently set you back, and wiped some dirt off your face. His touch was a juxtaposition of rough and soft and managed to send shivers down your spine, "there - all better. Beautiful."
You'd already been warming up under his gaze but as soon as that singular word came out, you almost combusted on the spot. Part of you was sure that you had imagined it, a delusional bit of hope, but you also swore you could see the pink creeping into his cheeks.
"What did you say?" you looked at him with big, wide eyes and that's when it hit Joel. He'd actually voiced his innermost thoughts out loud. To you. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, "did you call me beautiful?"
"What? I, ugh, no?" He shrugged his shoulders as if to try and play it off. But you both knew he was lying, "I'd never say that!"
"Umm…thank you?" You were trying to keep your laughter contained. His face turned bright red and he groaned as he scrubbed a hand over his face.
"No, I didn't mean it like that. You are beautiful but I didn't mean to say it like that…?"
"Are you sure, Joel?" This time you had the upper hand as you reached over and brushed his hair out of his face, "are you asking me or telling me?"
"I'm telling you that you're beautiful-"
"Oh! So you do think I'm beautiful!" A huge smile spread across your face as Joel looked like he wished the ground would open up and swallow him while.
"I…fuck," he hung his head and sighed deeply.
"Oooh, you think I'm pretty!" You were going to have way too much fun with this. You were bouncing on your feet and gently nudging his shoulder, "Joel has a crush on me! He loves me!"
"I-" he couldn't even defend himself because everything you were saying was true. He just wasn't quite sure if he had been ready to admit that. But the way you were looking at him made it feel like you might have felt the same way. 
"You wanna kiss me, don't you?" You had no clue where this burst of confidence was coming from him, but for once you liked it, "'s okay, Joel. You can admit you're madly in love with me."
Joel's head was spinning and he felt a hundred different things at once. All he knew was that it was suddenly overwhelming. 
"I have to go," was all he could get out as he gently pushed past you. You made a small sound of surprise as you watched him go, his shoulders slumping. Oh. You really hoped you hadn't overstepped any boundaries or just made things completely awkward. 
"Fuck," you groaned at yourself, "fuck."
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
You decided to let things cool down for a few days before seeking him out again. You really just hoped that you hadn't messed things up with him.
You found him outside the small bar, leaning against the wall and staring up at the sky. He must have sensed you because he looked over and caught your eye, a pointedly neutral expression on his face.
"Hey," you walked over to him, hesitantly but relaxed when he didn't seem to recoil. 
"Hey," he replied, offering you a small nod. The two of you fell into silence for a bit as you looked up at the stars. You liked being able to see them here; they were so clear it felt like you could have touched them. 
"Umm," you broke the silence after a bit and swallowed down your nerves, "Listen, I just wanted to apologize for the other day. I didn't mean to…make things weird. I shouldn't have done it." 
He made a small sound before he turned to face you full on. Joel studied you for a moment, leaving your heart beating wildly. Before you even realized what was happening, he gently took your face in his hands, brushing his thumb over your cheek. 
His eyes flicked to yours, almost as if searching yours for permission. You gave him the most subtle of nods and he quickly closed the gap, pressing his lips to yours in a soft, tender kiss. 
When Joel did something, he didn't go halfway, he fully committed. And he kissed you as though his life depended on it, like it was the only thing he ever wanted to do in life. 
You pulled apart only when you needed to breathe, and even then it was reluctant. The smile you gave him almost made him weak in the eyes but he returned it, without hesitation or question.
"What you said," he paused for a moment, "it wasn't wrong. You're right, actually. All of it was true."
"Joel, I'm -" and then it hit you, "wait, what."
"It was true," he repeated, "all of it."
"Oh," you blinked a few times, "oh. You love me?"
"I do," he confirmed and it felt like your entire body was on fire, "I guess it just took you to finally get it out of me."
"I thought I said all the wrong things," you admitted breathlessly, "I was afraid I'd fucked everything up."
"No," he promised, "you didn't at all."
"You love me," you said dreamily as Joel just grinned at you, "and I love you. Wow."
"Wow," he teased softly, "what am I going to do with you, trouble?"
"Kiss me for starters."
"Yeah," he touched your cheek softly, "I can definitely do that."
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shootingstarwritings · 2 months
Text
Body Surfing Lesson
“’Body surfing,’ is an important skill to learn as fledgling body possessors,” Gerald spoke to the hidden camera, putting on his teacher persona as best he could considering the ciscumstances. “Normally, it takes a lot of mana for us to take over other people, but the body surfing technique involves taking over multiple people over the course of a single day, using their own mana as a sort of ‘surfboard,’ to ride the waves of mana that flow inside of us all.” He inwardly cringed as he spoke, his current body very clearly unfitting for his lesson.
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Gerald had no idea who had come up with such awful terminology, but it was far too late to change that. The small yet tight-knit community the possessors in the area had formed needed to have a sense of unity. Too much innocent blood had been shed for shame to hold Gerald back. ‘Far too many of you have been lost for me to get cold feet now,’ he thought to himself. Taking a deep breath, he continued his explanation for the future viewers.
“I’ve already spent quite a lot of my own mana to possess this young man,” Gerald forced his host to say. What was his name again…? He focused, face visibly tightening before his eyes widened in realization. “Jerry! Huh, it’s so close to my name.” He winced and made a mental note to himself to delete that part of the video. “It was difficult, y’know,” he said, pacing around in Jerry’s underwear with very little shame. He couldn’t help but strut, already enjoying the tight muscle in this youthful form. “I had to float into his cute little butt to take him over.”
Gerald grinned and slapped Jerry’s butt, enjoying the slight jiggling. He thought back earlier today as he launched into a story of how he had taken Jerry over for his class.
Gerald’s misty form had crawled through the apartment building’s pipes, searching for a nice and hot host that would catch people’s eyes while he tried to educate them. Then, he found Jerry exiting the shower and clad in just a pair of new-age briefs. Gerald stared at it in confusion, unsure if this is really what the young ones were really wearing. ‘Am I getting old?’ Gerald had briefly mused before launching himself towards Jerry’s ass.
“AH! Woah, ahhh…!” Jerry collapsed on his stomach, ass facing the ceiling as Gerald’s essence took him over. “Ah, pl-please… help…!” gasped Jerry, his hips thrusting on their own as he lost consciousness.
“Mmm, nice…” Gerald muttered as he sat up. He rubbed his stomach and then his bare, youthful legs. “It’s been a while since I was someone so young. And so hairless,” he chuckled.
“And that’s what happened,” he finished for his class. “It was lucky that this young man enjoys filming so much. Now I’ve got a nice and high-quality camera for this lesson rather than some janky phone.” It truly had been serendipity for him. Gerald giggled as he sat cross-legged in front of the camera, enjoying just how his borrowed form felt so exposed and yet so confident in his near-nudity. “So, I’ve got a dilemma. I want to move on and yet I’m pretty much exhausted my mana supplies—the essence of the soul. Say I even got into the trouble and I have to evacuate for whatever reason. What could I do in this situation?”
Gerald waited a quick second before continuing, “If you don’t know, that’s fine. This technique’s quite advanced. Not even some of our more veteran community members have even mastered it. Yours truly, however,” Gerald paused to place a hand on his chest, making sure to lightly tweak a nipple, “is well-versed enough in the arts to enlighten you.”
It wasn’t a secret nor difficult to figure out the theoretical part, but it was a challenge to divert the flow of energy instead of letting it be lost to entropy. It was similar to having a rush of anger and trying to convert the energy of that anger to something productive. In other words, it was turning anger to passion, turning sadness to compassion, and turning joy to kindness. The emotion behind it was just as important, if not more so, than the actual intention. 
‘Easier said than done,’ Gerald thought. ‘Honestly, I’d have to do a one-on-one with all of these new possessors for them to even get proficient at it. However, just imparting the knowledge would be enough… for now, at least.’
“Now, I have invited my host’s friend to come over soon. Before he arrives, I’m going to start masturbating my host’s body and preparing my mana.” One of the ways that mana flowed was through bodily fluids, with semen being one of the most potent ones. The emotions surrounding a climax allows a large flow of magic to surge through and even be present in the semen that one shoots at that moment of peak pleasure. “I won’t use my own mana,” summarized Gerald, “but instead use this young man’s mana from his own climax to possess his friend, Mike.”
Gerald was about to continue, but bit his lower lip as he heard the faintest knock from the front door. Then, Mike’s voice called out to be let in.
Grinning, Gerald placed a finger to his lips and winked at the camera. “Let the show begin.” It wasn’t difficult to begin jacking off in this youth’s body. Even stroke felt like a lightning strike and even gasp was just fuel to Gerald’s fiery lust--now reborn in this young vessel… for the time.
“C-C’mon in,” Gerald forced Jerry to say. He had left the apartment’s front door unlocked on purpose. With any luck, Mike would get curious and explore the lustful noises straight to Jerry’s room. “Door’s unlocked.” Everything was falling into place. Gerald had seen a few pictures of Mike. He was a cute ginger with a good body that used to play hockey in high school. Though his sports days were behind him, Mike still regularly went to the gym to keep a nice form. “Mmm…!” The thought of taking over another young hunk, one with fiery curly hair that was so much like his own during his teenage years, almost made Gerald cum on the spot.
“Hurry up…!” Gerald hissed. Just how much more did his thick cock need to finally cum. It was such a tease--to be on the verge of cumming but not getting there quite yet. “You stupid fucking himbo, fucking cum already!” Although he was on the verge of running out of time, Gerald couldn’t help but find the verbal abuse arousing as well. “Cum for me, boy. Lemme feel that stallion cock of yours burst all over your hairless, himbo body…”
“Jerry? That you? What’re you doing…?” Gerald could hear Mike’s approaching footfalls, and that only made the whole situation more erotic. Before losing his body, Mike would see his best friend cum all over himself like a shameless exhibitionist. And then, Gerald would do the same thing to Mike. Forget the class or keeping the peace, Gerald could only think of hopping between men and turning each of them into cum-obsessed cocksuckers.
“Hrrngh! Oh god…!” 
Yes… it was approaching. All Gerald needed to really turn this body on as he cranked the cock was a bit of foreplay. His core was beginning to tense, and he could feel himself rush past the point of no return.
Right at the precise moment, the door opened. “Jerry, what the fuck?!” Mike cried out as he saw his best friend beating his meat without a lick of shame.
Grining, Gerald forced Jerry to shout, “I’m fucking cumming…!” as torrents of cum shot high into the air in Mike’s direction.
‘Now, give me your body, boy.’
Riding that climatic wave, Gerald used the large pool mana that Jerry’s young body was shooting to propel his soul forward. Even though all of his own energy was spent, he felt rejuvenated, as though he was 20 years younger, as Jerry came. However, just like a normal wave crashing into the sea, it would not last forever. The energy could not be stored, only spent in that very moment; but that small burst in power was all Gerald needed as he dove into Mike’s body.
“Oomph!” Mike huffed as the force of Gerald diving into his body was enough to knock him off balance. He fell backwards and hit the ground, body convulsing as an invisible, unknowable force began to take him over. “Wh-What the fuck…?!” was all he could say as a cold and numb sensation spread from the tips of his fingers and toes into his core. “H-Help… ohh… please don’t…” Mike reached a trembling arm towards the doorknob, his fingers twitching as they tried to find anything to grab onto.
By the time Mike’s fingers gripped the brass knob, Gerald was already in control. “Mmm… delicious.” Something that Gerald noticed from certain bodies was that they somehow had some kind of spiritual ‘flavor.’ Mike reminded him of strawberries in a shortcake somehow. He licked his lips and chuckled at the light bristle of Mike’s bushy and manly beard. “Trying to be a real man, boy?”
Gerald forced Mike to sit up and then lie on his stomach. “Just a young man trying to be a big boy,” he chuckled as he positioned Mike’s ass high in the air, wiggling his hips the whole time. “But then a real man like Gerald took over my body. All with my best friend’s spunk as a springboard. God, what kinda friend--what kinda man--am I for letting that happen?”
A horrible idea suddenly crossed Gerald’s mind. Crawling back into Jerry’s room, Gerald opened Mike’s mouth and began to suck the remaining cum off of Jerry’s still twitching cock. “God, Mike, you’re so virile. I’m so glad you’re this cumslut’s friend,” said Gerald. Then he realized that he was still supposed to be explaining a lesson. 
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Grabbing the camera, Gerald focused it on Mike’s face and began to speak. “Well, did you see that? I was all out of mana, but masturbating with a man’s other body, I was able to use his energy to possess this hunk of meat.” To illustrate his point, Gerald stripped most of Mike’s clothes until he was down to his boxer briefs. “See? And--” he stopped as he heard the front door open.
“Jerry? You home? What’d I tell you about leaving the front door unlocked?”
Jerry’s father. A tall and broad-shouldered man that, from what Gerald could tell from Jerry’s memory, wasn’t particularly fond of Mike due to his… ‘lifestyle.’ Was it due to something repressed? Mike certainly seemed to think so, but Gerald couldn’t make heads or tails of the situation. Taking a look around and seeing the scene before him, Gerald began to internally panic--twisting Mike’s generally nonchalant expression into a stressed grimace.
‘Shit. His son’s unconscious, covered in cum,  and his best friend’s stripped down to his underwear.  If I saw this scene I’d think Mike was trying to date-rape my son! Don’t think I’ll be able to simply laugh off this little excursion. But… the only way to get out of this would be…’
Gerald had never attempted a double possession, with or without an explosive orgasm catapult. Was it a good thing that the camera was still recording? He wasn’t sure anymore. To be frank, he wasn’t sure of anything anymore. Loud, boisterous footfalls continued to ring in his ears.
Even in times of danger, Gerald knew he could rely on his libido to get him out. Throwing Mike’s underwear away, no longer caring about maintaining any sense of professionalism, Gerald got to work. Using what was left of Jerry’s cum as makeshift lube, he began to explore Mike’s tasty body with horned-up haste.
“The hell’s that, Jerry? Got a girl over?” Jerry’s father called out again. Gerald couldn’t help but giggle in-betweens his moans. If only he knew.
Mike’s gruff voice contrasted so wonderfully with his high-pitched and needy groans. His back arched and his toes curled as Gerald continued to beat his dick. The other hand freely explored the nice pelt of orange hair that coated Mike’s body.
‘What I wouldn’t give to just have a day with this guy,’ thought Gerald. A few tweeks of the nipples and he could already feel an orgasm building up. Just a few more minute and vigorous strokes and he’d be home free. “C’mon, cum for me…! Just a bit more.”
Jerry’s door flew open for the second time that day, and this time Jerry’s father roared in horror at the scene before him. “MIKE! What the fuck are you doing?! Jerry?!”
‘An audience,’ Gerald thought, smirking at the older man. ‘And not a bad looker either.’
“Hey, daddy-o,” Gerald forced Mike to say. He thrust into his grip, gyrating his hips as though to show off what his body could do to Jerry’s father. “Like the show? Have a seat, I can do so much for you if you want. I don’t mind some audience participation.” To emphasize his own point, Gerald raised a hand with a bit of pre-cum and slowly licked it off--savoring the sweet flavor.
Jerry’s father, mouth slightly agape and expression somewhere between horror and arousal, just stared at Gerald abusing Mike’s body. “Y-You’re sick,” he finally said, eyes glued to Mike’s swinging cock as it twitched. “What did you do to Jerry…?”
“Same thing I’m gonna do to you, daddy!” Gerald cried out in glee as Mike’s abused cock shot the first few rounds of semen. He bit his bottom lip, moans just barely muffled, as Mike’s hips naturally thrust with each shot. As the orgasm reached its end, Mike’s body began to tremble and grow limp as Gerald shot himself out. He rushed through the air and quickly dove right into Jerry’s father through his large chest.
“Hurugh! Ohh, what the fuck…?!” Unlike Mike, Jerry’s father remained standing even after Gerald dive bombed into his chest. However, despite his stronger will, he was unable to stop the tidal wave that crashed over his body. His broad arms gripped the door frame for support as his knees bent from the pressure. 
The invasive presence washed over him, filling him up slowly. It wasn’t unlike the first time his ex-wife had pegged him. The fear that came from being filled for the first time was matched only by the pleasure that followed. Just the thought of that night made his cargo shorts tighten. He knew that he should’ve been afraid and even outraged, but his body betrayed him in favor of the invasive presence. “M-More, please fuck me more…!” he whispered as his grip on the door frame tightened. Sweat dripped from his body as his soul let the tides carry him to a blissful and erotic rest.
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“And that class,” Gerald forced his host to say, “is how you use your host to your advantage. Now, this is a more advanced technique, so don’t worry if you find it tricky at first.” Bill, Jerry’s father, was far more comfortable to Gerald than Jerry or Mike. The beefy look and authoritative voice also helped Gerald really get into the persona of a professor. It was like putting on a custom before getting into character. “But, as you can see from my improvised lesson plan, it’s possible to even chain multiple possessions in just one day! Really beats having to wait for the refractory period to end, huh?” He chuckled in Bill’s deep baritone, hands on his stomach as he felt Bill’s stolen body jiggle and quake with life. This was more like it.
And with the lesson done, Gerald now had plenty of time on his own to get familiar with Bill. Maybe Jerry and Mike would like to get involved as well…
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uplatterme · 1 year
Text
false god
—sub!dainsleif/dom!amab!reader, priest!reader | reader is called ‘father’, throatfucking, cockstepping, first half is plot and then the other is filth.
—and after posting about writing for dain since january, i actually finally finished one for him!
This isn’t the first time that such a thing had happened to the Bough Keeper.
Such a thing was, accidentally teleporting himself to a place he didn’t mean to, partly due to exhaustion and sleepless nights.
It was often like these that the immortality cast upon him mocked him more than anything. 
Droplets of water started to fall onto his hair, then eventually onto his body. He stares into the dark sky, the coldness of the rain bringing more comfort than it does harm.
Dainsleif sighs, and instead of teleporting away to his right destination, he starts to walk and explore this newfound place.
There isn’t much to say about where he’s landed himself, and frankly, he’s thankful for that. Silence is a gift for him nowadays and even when he’s isolated, it’s rare that he isn’t plagued by awful memories that keep him from just closing his eyes for longer than a few minutes.
His slow steps are halted though, when he sees that he has brought himself in front of a very peculiar building. The rain continues to soak his body as the man stares at the white architecture and the statue that is displayed in front.
He chuckles. Of course, it couldn’t be that easy. His luck had never been the one to land on his side, he didn’t know why he expected otherwise.
It’s quite big for a chapel, especially since he doesn’t recognize the figure in front. Still, it’s one of a god’s, nonetheless. He supposes he shouldn’t be surprised considering the lengths that devotees had gone to.
His curiosity gets the best of him when he goes nearer the said building, wanting to examine the sculpture. However, before he could even get a closer look, the wooden entrance opens.
The Khaenri'ahn’s first instinct is to transport himself away but finds that to be useless as he meets the eyes of another. What he didn’t expect next, is genuine worry.
“My goodness! Are you alright?” 
He almost gets confused as to why one would react in such horror. He doesn’t have any blood on him, does he?
Dainsleif looks down, not wanting to traumatize a random stranger…and discovers that there’s nothing wrong with him?
He lifts his head back up, only to find you nowhere near the doors of the chapel. He wonders where you are for a quick second until he feels something warm covering his body.
“I hope my robe will make do…Come on, get inside. You must be cold.” His reluctance is evident in his face but before he can even say anything, he’s pushed inside the chapel, much to his distaste.
Him stepping inside such a place was too much for him already that he forgot the fact that he’s wearing a robe, one that he assumed was no ordinary one.
Dainleif wants to take it off and so he tries to, at least.
“Keep it. I apologize I don’t have any spare clothes at the moment.”
He really does not want to wear a priest’s robe. 
“Did you come here for the mass? I’m afraid it ended an hour ago…Ah, but you can still stay until the rain stops.” You offer generously.
“No. I just happened to be passing by.” He explains.
He watches as your mouth gapes, looking for the words to say after you’ve just brought him in here out of his will.
“That makes sense…I was wondering why I haven’t seen you before. Not that it matters, you can still stay. The Chapel of our God is glad to help any troubled souls.”
He takes offense at that. 
“Troubled, you say? That’s quite a big assumption of a man you’ve just met.” His tone is as monotone as ever, yet that doesn’t hide the disdainful look that lingers in his bright eyes.
You muse.
“Ah yes, a non-troubled person that enjoys looking gloomy and letting the rain pour all over them.”
Dainsleif bites his tongue at that.
“I’ll show you around.”
While it does interest him that this chapel worships a god that isn’t of the seven, that doesn’t mean that he wants to learn more about a dead god who was defeated in the archon war just like the others. Although he presumes that the way you tell of their tales makes it somewhat bearable.
Even if it’s not what he expected.
It’s not as overwhelming as he had thought, but perhaps that was due to the lack of nuns he usually sees when it comes to churches.
“Is there something wrong?” You ask fondly, stopping your rambling about your said god just to listen to him.
“Does this place have many attendees?”
“Not quite…but it’s a lot if you consider they’re followers of a God who isn’t one of the seven.”
Frankly, Dainsleif doesn’t get it. It’s not as if all these masses you lead would ever lead to something else. It’s just wasted hard work, if he’s to be brutally honest.
He can tell that there’s a lot of admiration and work you have put into this, but for what reason? What reason is there to keep spreading the word of someone you haven’t even personally met?
Would your faith waiver if knowledge of your god performing deemed evil acts is brought upon you?
“Should we continue the tour?” You ask.
He politely shakes his head, thoughts still lingering in his head.
“We must adhere to these values that our God has specified in their writings…that our way of living as a mortal is something that should be celebrated and not frowned upon…”
The non-believer sits at the last row of the chapel, somewhat half-heartedly listening to your words as you read passages from a book in your hands.
He only watches, observing the entire view in front of him. How people reply in unison whenever you say a certain phrase, an exchange that he finds to be quite strange. 
The mass isn’t that long, yet you still manage to lead that hour with grace, making sure that every part of it goes well without any fault.
How you stand to the side, leaning on the podium with a smile as everyone sings along with the choir.
Dainsleif’s eyes meet yours and he sees you mouth a greeting to him.
…He supposed that he can stay for a minute when everyone has gone.
He sees you grin as you start walking towards him, your robe neat and tidy as ever.
Surprisingly, he speaks first.
“I’m surprised you still have a recollection of me.”
“It’s only been a few months.” You reply, your voice soft and soothing, unlike the way you spoke as you preached earlier.
Most people would choose to forget. “You’re different in person than you are earlier.”
“Perhaps.”
There’s an uncomfortable silence in the chapel, the mosaic windows dim the bright sunlight from the outside but that only results in the colored glass reflecting stunningly on your face.
He takes the initiative and speaks again.
“Is it because I’m not a follower?”
Your breathing catches on his ear. “Maybe.”
He wonders if you know of his lineage and if that’s the reason why you had kept an eye out for him, suspicions rousing through your brain.
“Father.” The change of tone to formality shocks you a little that you were forced to question why he’s suddenly calling you that.
Your awkward chuckle echoes through the building. “What are you calling me that for?”
“Just seeing if your attitude would change. If you’re truly as honest as you present yourself to be.”
You click your tongue. “Is there a reason you came here?”
There it is. A snarky tone. He knew he was right to come back here. 
Why was he sent here before? Was someone playing tricks on him? The Abyss? The gods? He knows there has to be a reason for him being teleported here that day.
“May I ask how someone becomes a member of your church, Father?”
He hears you sigh deeply. Why?
Aren’t more members what you want and need?
“If that’s how you want to do this then…I’ll amuse you. Follow me, troubled one.”
Dainsleif’s fists close at the nickname.
He’s brought to a room that you once showed him the previous time that he was here. You never explained what exactly this room was for as he left just before you got to.
There’s a small fountain, clear and blue flowing through it.
“This is a small tradition we have. It’s based on one of the writings that…you haven’t read, but that’s alright. It’s not that difficult to follow.” You start to explain.
“It’s a symbol of starting anew, to wash yourself of the regrets you have.” 
“And if I do not have any?” He questions.
“You do. Everyone does, even Gods.”
“You think gods regret the things they’ve done.” His patience is thinning inch by inch. He almost laughs at the ridiculousness of that sentence.
“That I do. According to one of the passages that—”
“How exactly do I know whether what you’re saying is genuine or just out of a damn book?” He interrupts.
You stare at him with a disapproving look. “You’re deflecting.”
“Excuse me?” 
“What is it that troubles you?”
Nothing. He’s fine. He’s done with everything, there’s no use in pondering over what could’ve and should’ve been.
“Don’t act as if you’re superior to me.” He says, visibly upset.
“So much for becoming a believer.” 
That’s when the grin is swayed off your face in just a few seconds as Dainsleif pins you to the wall, your head slightly tilted up as he grips tightly on your collar.
“Who sent you?” His enchanting eyes cross yours, not even a shade of fear in them.
“What exactly have you gone through that you think everything is out to get you?”
He stills at that. You’re not trying to push him off.
Instead, you’re conversing with him like he’s a lost lamb who’s unsure of where to go. An amenable priest who listens and asks.
He lets go. Your robe is now crinkled, and the mark of his fist is clearly evident.
You sit on the bench near the fountain, patting the empty space right next to it. Dainsleif refuses the offer, choosing to continue standing while he searches for the next words he’d like to say.
You smile.
“You don’t have to apologize or continue this. It doesn’t mean anything anyways if you don’t take it to heart.”
It’s such a strange sentence to hear from someone like you. You’re not..forcing him nor are you trying to sell him your ways by threatening him of what he may face if he doesn’t.
The Khaenri'ahn sighs, the words of apology already at the tip of his tongue.
“I’d prefer it if we were to continue.”
“You would?”
“I can still change my mind.” He jests, seeing you beam from ear to ear.
Dainsleif slowly walks towards the fountain, sitting beside you and laying his head down on your shoulder. The gesture is surprising to the priest but it isn’t turned away.
“I hope you’re quite ready, Father. This might take a while.” He says with his eyes closed.
“Confess your regrets, my troubled one.”
Eventually, it becomes a habit of his to visit you whenever he’s plagued with thoughts that make him anxious and question his choices.
And each time, you’re there to give advice. To lend a shoulder, and sometimes a little more than that.
He will never worship a god, but he’ll sure as hell worship you.
Dainsleif always waits patiently in the last row, watching you and listening to how your voice sounded rather than the message you’re conveying.
It’s soothing, in a way.
He doesn’t say a thing and only waits as you walk down the aisle with a smile.
It’s a silent exchange.
You place your hand on his shoulder and Dainsleif rubs the side of his chin on your hand, his eyes shut. 
“Dainsleif.”
“Yes, Father?” He teases, a smirk forming on his face before opening his eyes.
Your fingers lift his head slightly before bending down to reach his soft lips. He doesn’t pull away, he presses them further as if it’s his salvation. 
It’s somewhat sick that he’s found comfort in someone like you. He contemplates whether he’s walking the path of failure that the gods have planned, if this whole thing will eventually turn over just to punish him even more.
In the end, it’ll all be his fault. He’s the one who revealed secrets that you’ve never asked for.
“You’re making that face again, Dain.” You speak.
“What face?”
“The kind you make when you’re overthinking things. The one I want to get rid of.”
Dainsleif reaches for your hand, asking even if he knows the answer. “Pray tell, how exactly?”
“It makes me wonder if it’s a turn on of yours to get fucked in a place of worship.”
“Like how it’s a turn on for you when I’m on my knees and calling you Father?”
You laugh, caressing his hair as you look down on him.
“You don’t even worship the God of this place.” He looks so sweet like that, his head between your legs. Such beauty ready to kneel for you and do whatever if you ask him kindly.
“What’s the need when I already worship you?” Dainsleif says and takes you in.
Dainsleif never imagined he’d gladly be spending his time inside of a chapel, right in front of empty seats where anyone can walk in through those wooden doors, acting as if the altar is your hips.
And yet he’s letting you use his mouth eagerly, so used to how you taste that sometimes he himself craves for it when you two are separated.
“That’s right, love. Just think of me.” 
He groans as you push further into his throat, his eyes wandering to you despite his breathing getting obstructed.
He loves the things you do. Whether it be hearing you talk so dearly to him, tugging his hair with the right amount of pull, or the way you fill his mouth nicely like this.
It’s yours.
The sound that escapes his throat when your foot presses directly on his crotch is loud and lewd, echoing through the empty chapel.
His cheeks lightly flush, grumbling something incoherent.
“Speak clearly, my lamb.”
He rolls his eyes at the mischievousness of your voice. You know he can’t, and yet you’re still asking him to do so.
He follows still, of course.
“M-Mo—ah!” 
Dainsleif chokes as he tries to speak.
“Too much for you?”
He shakes his head and tries again.
“Mow—Moah-”
It’s not working. He’s stuffed full to even say it.
“Come on,” Your foot steps on his cock again. “There’s another way to plead. I’m sure a smart devotee of mine can figure that out.”
His chest heaves, trying to calm his breathing from the pressure and whining as it stops.
That’s when Dainsleif moves of his own accord, taking you even deeper than you already were. You can feel the vibrations from when he slowly pants, breathing through his nose more so he won’t pass out.
He bats his eyelashes at you, with a face full of sin.
Tears are starting to form in his eyes.
Please.
Dainsleif gags on your cock again, moaning impurely when your foot begins to knead more aggressively on his pants.
Your shoe adds even more stimulation and his cock aches wanting, no, begging for a release.
“Such a sinful body, no wonder the gods haven’t been blessing you.”
Fuck.
He continues to whimper, sucking your cock needily and knowing you’ll stop if he doesn’t do well.
“You get on your knees to be a slut, I wonder if they’ve bruised already.”
They do. They always do when you fuck his throat like this.
His mind is hazy and he’s close, he’s so—
“Hmgh!—”
“Not yet. Be patient.”
His body wants to buck down when you remove the pressure just seconds before he cums, but your hold on his head keeps him from doing that and he’s left to whine painfully.
The tears in his eyes finally fall and he stares up at you to be merciful, to let him have this one since it’s been a month of waiting to finally have you get him off like this.
“You want it?”
He nods and whines, begging for you to hear him out.
“Alright.”
When he gets permission, he sobs out on your cock, cumming inside in his own pants and soiling the floor. You feel how warm his breath is, his body is tired and trembling, but he keeps trying to make you finish as if it’s the only thing he’s made for. Even if he’s barely doing it well, too drunk with his tongue tired already.
The sight of that is enough to get you off.
Dainsleif tries to swallow but he doesn’t do it fully, cum dripping down his chin and coughing on the amount he can’t.
He finds it a waste that he isn’t able to. He stares, wondering if he should clean it up.
“Dain, it’s fine. You did amazing.”
His heart softens.
“Let me help you out, love.”
His head rests on your lap, your fingers playing with his hair. A tradition that you two somehow have ended up doing each time you finish.
He thinks it’s sweet and funny that you act so soft despite the things you say when having sex.
“Tell me.” You say.
“Tell you what?”
“What’s bothering you?” You question.
Dainsleif only snickers at that.
It’s you, Father.
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javarium · 4 months
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under the clouds, in my heart | g. satoru
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it’s these kinds of days that make Satoru the happiest — that remind him of the wonderful things he has in his life now; thunderstorms where his wife and children are safe and protected inside of his home are all he could ask for
w — post canon! gojo, canon-divergence, pregnant! reader, former first-year student! reader, mentions of underage relationship, mentions of being in a former! student-teacher relationship, Papa Satoru & Mama Reader, Satoru and Reader have a (growing) big family, this ended up shorter than I anticipated
a/n: another fix it fic you guys 🤧 this one has been in my drafts longer than 236
[ apart of the TFFTS universe! ]
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He loves seeing you cozied up in his sweaters, no matter the time of year (he secretly keeps it colder than normal in the summertime so you’ll put them on, but he’ll never tell you that). He loves how the hemline rests at your knees, a testament to the cute height difference between the two of you.
With your pregnancy belly, like now, sweaters only seem reach mid-thigh.
Ah, he’s not complaining.
He’s back from a mission overseas a day early, one he committed to speed-running like a demon so he could get back to his growing family. It wasn’t too necessary, considering he doesn’t have to do many more missions nowadays. The only reason he was summoned was because of his long, long influence, to which he most definitely used to get back faster.
But the universe hits his Pause button the second he warps back into his lovely home. For good reason. His heavenly blue eyes take in the scene in front of him, soul imprinting this memory into itself for eternity.
Seiji, his five-nearly-six year-old firstborn, was curled up on your lap, head using your thighs as a makeshift pillow. Traitor. Satoru can hear little snores escaping his lips at the awkward position his head is in. But if Satoru tilts his head, he can see his son’s protective decision from where his head and body lay.
Sanari, his sweet daughter, is curled up by your left arm. Her white curls of hair are splayed out on the pillow behind her as her head rests on your shoulders. Satoru chuckles. He can clearly see drool at the corner of her mouth pooling onto the sweater of his you’re wearing.
Lightning lights up the sky outside. And suddenly, the gushing sound of rain is all Satoru can hear — a downpour. Huh, the clouds had been just as white as his hair earlier. He supposes anything can happen though.
He can’t even see outside anymore now. The greenery has been completely overtaken by the opaque gray of the intense rain and thunderstorm.
Satoru’s head snaps back to you and his sleeping offspring. As much as he wants to join, he can’t bring himself to. He wants to do anything besides ruin the picturesque moment in time before him.
Just look at the family he’s made for himself.
Ah, but the squirming toddler in your arms may do just that anyway. So he doesn’t debate taking Junpei from your arms as he begins to scrunch up his adorable little nose.
Besides, Satoru’s sure you’re bound to wake up soon. His Six Eyes tells him that because the cursed energy from within your tummy is starting to become restless, the twins are finally waking up.
A big family hadn’t been on his mind. You both agreed on leaving your family with Junpei as your youngest. Especially with you falling pregnant so soon with him after having trouble with Sanari’s pregnancy and birth.
But things don’t always go to plan, do they? Satoru muses.
Taking the littlest that'll soon be a big brother wakes you from your nap. You inhale and exhale deeply as your eyes flutter open, blinking quite a few times before your vision clears.
“….’toru~” Your sleepy inhale sounds like a cute sniffle; he can’t help but grin. “You’re home?”
“Surprise, baby,” Satoru mumbles as he sits down and leans over the couch and over your pregnant belly to sweetly kiss your lips. “I’ll be home for awhile this time,” he adds softly. One arm holds his son, the other wraps around the back of your shoulders, hand resting on your upper arm to gently pull your body into him to deepen the kiss. You can’t help but giggle against his lips, and he smiles and giggles into it in return.
Lightning brightens the sky, this time for the longest you’ve ever seen. And following it, is the mightiest thunderclap you’ve ever heard. It makes even your husband jump, surprised by the deafening boom. Your lips separate from Satoru’s, who’s looking out the window with you, impressed by the power of Mother Nature.
It wakes Seiji and Sanari, who despite their maturity for their age, show their age by the fat tears pooling at their eyelids. Junpei, fully awake, begins to cry too, slightly louder than his older siblings. The toddler buries himself into his daddy’s shoulder for comfort and protection. And when the other two see their dad, who’s back home early, they jump to him and do the exact same, hugging him and burrowing into his chest and neck.
You’d take a picture had your babies not been so scared.
When your hand rubs Seiji’s back, the little boy turns to you, eyes watery with fear. He takes two little steps on the couch and softly stumbles into your outstretched arms. He rests his bottom on your thigh, head burrowed into the crook of your neck, little hands balled up into fists with the sweater you were wearing between his itty bitty fingers.
“Come on, Seiji. Off Mama’s belly,” Satoru says, a slight tinge of worry to his voice as he sees him lay a little too heavily on your rounded middle.
The little boy gasps lightly and moves. “Sorry, Mama. Sorry babies.”
You chuckle and kiss his tiny forehead. Satoru presses his lips to the side of his son’s temple, his free hand reaching for his sides to tickle him, saying things about how cute he was.
Sanari takes the moment to detach from her daddy’s side and dives back into your ribs, albeit much more carefully than her older brother. She sniffles, still scared from the clash of thunder, but much calmer now that both her parents were home and awake. She burrows her head under your arm, almost behind your back, leaving her nose room to breathe in the cool air and the sweater that smells like both you and her papa.
It’s so cute, Satoru thinks. She’s the complete opposite of him. She’s the more quiet and reserved one of her siblings. And he still suspects that she still will after her younger twin siblings will be born. Satoru has a feeling, knows in his gut that they’ll be the most extroverted of his children, bouncing off the walls just like he does every day.
Though not so much anymore, heh. He’s still a childish person at heart, but his age is slowly getting to him, slowly beginning to chip away at his ability to be the flamboyant jujutsu sorcerer he used to be. He can feel the ache of time and age begin to take root in the bones of his body that had been so tempered.
In its place, however, took fatherhood, took a new and different kind of responsibility that he was more than excited for — days filled with new challenges, watching his kids grow as he smothers them with love.
His former students were more than capable of handling the load he used to. There’s plenty more of them nowadays than there is of him. With most of them all Special Grade sorcerers, too, he muses. Including you. But you don’t partake in missions like that, mostly being in the reserves of jujutsu society and using your reverse cursed energy like Shoko has.
Especially since becoming a mom.
Satoru sees the rainy day lulling you back to sleep. Being five-and-a-half months pregnant with twins, while also caring for three more while her husband was away would make any woman tired.
His offspring, however, were wide awake.
“Go upstairs and go to sleep,” Satoru says quietly. He sees the waves of fatigue hit every time you blink several times in one go. Your happy expression is getting harder to hold as you grow tired all over again, and Satoru thinks he’s going to have to carry you upstairs, fearing you falling.
But you, ever-stubborn, refuse. “I’m okaaay,” you reply, yawning into the words.
The white-haired man chuckles and shakes his head. “Go to bed,” he says, this time in a more commanding tone. “I’ll wake you up in a couple hours with food ready.”
And when he makes that face, the cutesy one that also means he’s more than happy to carry you to bed, you don’t argue. He does, however, help you up off the couch and watches from the bottom of the stairs to make sure you lose balance and tip backwards. Satoru blows you a kiss, to which you chomp down at, mock-devouring his kisses. He gasps, fake offended, and it gets the giggle out of you he’s hoping for before you go into the bedroom.
Satoru’s heart swells with adoration and love. It overflows even more as he turns back to his two sons and his daughter. God, he almost wants to cry. What did he do to deserve such happiness in his life? After everything he’s done, that’s happened to him, when did the universe decide a beautiful wife and sweet, adorable children were in the cards for him?
He doesn’t know. All he knows is that he’s going to hold his family close to his heart and protect them until his last breath.
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a/n: this got published at a completely random time lmao, where did this even come from? this’ll flop for sure but everyone who reads pls enjoy anyway
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sevencfswcrds · 2 years
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Hex tag dump 1
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angelkissiies · 1 year
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nectar of angels
abby anderson x reader
cw : modern!au , church girl!abby , church girl!reader , dom!abby , sub!reader , religious imagery , blasphemy , corruption kink , religious guilt , purity culture (mentioned) , god / power kink , oral ( r ! receiving ) , probably more ?? read at your own discretion !
wc : 3.2K
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Her leg bounced restlessly, hymn book almost completely forgotten, as she stared at the cross decorating the altar. It was hot, the heat of the sun burning her skin as it filtered through the panes of colored mosaic, making her shift uncomfortably as she tried to keep her eyes off of you. Something about the sweat tempting her brow made her instinctively tense her fists, the rolling sensation taking her back to the feeling of your core pulsing around her fingers. She was too far gone, the words of her father passing through her, body occupied with an untameable craving. 
“Abigail?” The man beside her whispered, a sharp edge in his voice as he craned his neck to speak to her– eyes still trained on the man pacing behind the altar. 
She froze, hands coming to attention in her lap. “Yes, sir?” She murmured, slowly angling her face away from the floor to take him in. It was one of her father's friends, a man she saw around often. Moore, she thought his last name was– not that it mattered because the scorn set in his face was enough to make her wither away on the spot. 
He tore his eyes from the preacher, steely gaze landing on the blonde. “You are being distracting, Abigail, you should know better.” He berated, the grip he had on his bible tensing, narrowing his eyes as he took her in. “What is wrong with you, girl?” 
Abby straightened up in her seat, shaking her head as she tried to make herself smaller in his lingering gaze. “I’m sorry, sir. I’m just feeling rather plagued by the spirit today.” She hummed, clearing her throat slightly as she spoke. “God is speaking to me.” Her thoughts shot back to you. The tender flesh of your breasts in her hands, the cries for God you’d released into her mouth, the angelic halo of ecstasy on your face– it was hungry work to be as devout as she was. The only God she’d ever come to know sitting across the aisle, begging for her worship, it took everything in her to not give in. 
“Is that so?” 
She nodded quickly, taking a shallow breath, crossing her legs to dull the growing ache in her cunt. She knew how devious her thoughts were, she’d spent many restless nights begging for God to take them away, but she’d come to realize that this must have been God’s will. He wouldn’t give her something so beautiful and expect her not to satiate herself on the divinity. “Yes, sir.” Her voice cracked, a bead of sweat rolling down her temple. 
The man gave her a curt nod, relaxing back into his seat, eyes glued back to the preacher. It was unlike anyone to really give her much trouble, seeing as she was usually the star of the sermon– with her girlish looks and obedient soul, it was hard not to like her. So most would brush off her odd behaviors lately as the musings of a young girl, even though she had grown well beyond that of a child, now sitting at 20 years of age. To them, she was being crafted into the perfect wife. To her, she was being unshackled from the chains– her mind woven into one amassed of ‘deviant’ love for a woman. 
“That will be all for today.” Her father wrapped up his lecture, setting his bible down on the lectern with a loud thump. “My daughter, Abigail, will be staying to collect canned donations for the food bank– which is next week, in case anyone missed last week's flyers.” He smiled, moving a hand out to wave towards Abby– who looked lost for half a second before giving a small nod. “God bless you all.” 
The church immediately lit up with light chatter, the shuffling of feet sending Abby out of her seat and towards the doors. There was nothing she wanted more than to be out of there, her feet moving on autopilot as she took the stairs two at a time– almost falling when she met the carpet at the bottom. She took a second to catch her breath, hand shaking as it gripped the railing, at this point she had evaded anyone who possibly would have stolen her attention– leaving her to fight the growing heat in her cunt alone. 
“Shit.” She hissed, backing up to rest against the concrete wall of the stairwell. The cold seeped through the knit of her cardigan, erecting a small sigh fall from her lips. She was burning up, still, using the back of her hand to wipe away the beads of sweat collecting at the nape of her neck. You were like a fever, coursing through her body and setting off alarm bells, sweating her out of her faith. 
The sound of the door swinging open made her jump, quickly smoothing down her hair to appear more put together as she feigned busy. Her legs carried her over to the table in the corner, picking up the clipboard to gaze at as the person made their way down the steps. She could feel her heartbeat in her ears as she flipped the pages gingerly, not taking anything in. 
“Abby–,” You began, eyes cast on her turned figure, slowly stepping down off of the last stair. 
She spun around, an incredulous look on her face, letting the board clatter down onto the table. The growing fever cast a desperate haze over her, making her legs tremble slightly, the things she’d do to have her hands on you were too blasphemous to even think. The sight of you was too much, making her look away in shame. “What are you doing here?” She asked, glancing towards the side door– just in case anyone was close enough to hear. 
You let a small smile pull at your lips, hand still sitting on the railing, tilting your head at her avoidance. “I came to see you.” You stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, the golden cross necklace shifting further into the divide of your chest as you swung slightly on the metal pole. “I needed.. to ask you for something.”
The girl felt her heart drop into her stomach, urging her to look up at you. “W-what is it?” She spoke quietly, taking a small step away from the table as she allowed herself to really look at you. The soft pink and white of your floral skirt hid the curves of your hips, long white sleeves concealing your untroubled skin, cardigan protecting the virtues she longed for. You were so pure it hurt. She tried to get you out of her head but every glimpse of your body sent her over the edge, needing lessons in temptation from the devil himself before she’d ever be able to look at you without a burning lust. 
“I was wondering if you’d mind helping me out.” You hummed, releasing the railing as you took a couple steps toward her. From this distance, she could now see the tabbed bible poking out from under your other arm– making her press her thighs together. “The feeling... it’s back again.” You felt oddly nervous, shifting on your feet as your panties clung uncomfortably to your drooling cunt, you knew she could help– seeing as she’d done it before, just a few nights ago. You didn’t understand the feeling that bubbled in your tummy, only knowing that it was caused by the glimpses you’d caught of the girl before you– the image of her silken skin beneath her lacy skirt made a heat rush over you– it was unfamiliar, unlike anything you’d ever felt in the presence of a man. 
Abby’s breath caught in her throat, her hand coming to grip the edge of the table so hard she thought it might break. She felt dizzy, your words sending a pulse of need into her cunt, her eyes fluttering slightly as she tried to find the restraint to not take you right there, right now. “Y-yes, please.” She practically whined, kicking herself for how desperate she sounded. “I mean, yes. I will.” 
You giggled, rushing up to wrap your arms around the blonde, taking a deep breath as you squeezed her. “Thank you so much, you’re the best friend ever.” You said matter-of-factly, not noticing how her entire body tensed up. 
“Thanks,” She sighed, patience growing thin as she felt your breasts press into her, moving one arm to wrap around you gently. It was pure torture, temperature skyrocketing as she looked to the statue of Mary for advice– before rolling her eyes. She was a virgin, how could she help? “Would you do something for me?” 
You pulled back, nodding, doe eyes making her look away. “Of course, what do you need?” 
She knew better, she knew that this would be the thing that sent her to hell out of all things she found herself doing. It was a perfect sentence, just to taste the nectar of an angel, and she welcomed it. “Go check to make sure everyone is gone, lock the doors, and come back.” She instructed, her mind slipping from guilt to desire– no longer willing to beg for stronger resolve. “I can help you now, would you like that, angel?” 
You were immediately shuffling away, nodding vigorously as you took back steps towards the stairs. “Yes, ma’am, I'll be right back.” It was needed, the warmth in your panties soaking through to coat the inside of your thighs, making you practically run up the stairs. As you popped out from downstairs, you glanced around, feeling a familiar heat rise in your cheeks. She had called you angel again, something that hadn’t clicked until now, making you struggle to continue to breathe properly– eyes making a b-line for the cross in the middle of the room. You were just a girl, not an angel, but you couldn’t help feeling giddy at the status she’d given you in her eyes. 
Abby could’ve run after you, forcing you on your hands and knees before God and man alike, hands winding in your little skirt as she carnally hungered for the mere sight of your pretty cunt. It was unlike anything she’d ever felt, nothing compared to the softness of your walls and the warm arousal as it dripped down her hand– making her let out a soft groan at just the memory. She knew how fucked up this had to be, seeing as you didn’t understand the significance of allowing her to touch you like this, making a momentary shame wash over her. You were just a poor sheltered girl, one she needed in the most unholy way, unknowingly betraying your covenant to God. “Fuck.” She sighed, her tense grip on the table releasing as she took a small step away, pulling off her sweatshirt and dragging the sleeves of her black long-sleeved shirt up her forearms. 
You had checked every room upstairs, finding nobody hanging around, your mission coming to a halt at the front doors– fingers turning the lock into place before bounding back to the stairs, letting the door slam behind you as you took them two at a time. “I did it, there's nobody.” You affirmed, moving to the couch on the other side of the room, plopping yourself down before grabbing at the frills of your skirt– pulling them up hastily. “Now please, please? I can’t take it anymore.” You whimpered, the cold air of the basement hitting the soaked cotton of your panties. 
Abby fought back the moan that tempted her lips at the sight, your big doe eyes filled with frustration and the massive wet spot darkening the white fabric– making it almost completely see-through, giving her a borderline pornographic sight of your cunt. “God, what have you been thinking about?” She asked, coming to stand before you, eyes locked onto the desperation lacing your soft features. “What has you so worked up, angel?” She brought a knee up to the cushion between your legs, kneeling on it as she leaned down, her hand moving to caress the flush of your cheeks. 
“I can’t stop thinking..” You paused, biting your lip slightly as you angled your hips towards the tense muscle of her thigh. You didn’t want to stain her in the sin of your gaze, knowing it was born from a stolen glance into her privacy, making you close your legs around her knee. 
The girl cocked her head to the side, eyes narrowing at your reaction. “About?” She prompted, her hand coming down to toy with the chain of your necklace, turning the golden cross in her fingers. The slight shake of your head made her click her tongue against her teeth, winding her fingers in the chain and yanking it towards her– cutting off your air as she bent down closer to your ear. “You wouldn’t deny me the chance to help you, would you?” Her tone was saccharine, practically dripping into your parted lips as you gave her a tiny nod, tears welling in your eyes. 
The chain loosened around your throat, making you gasp, chest heavy with big breaths as you peered up at her. “Can’t get the sight of you out of my head, Abby.” You confessed, a stray tear falling down your cheek. You were beyond ashamed of your reasons for needing her, seeing as it was caused by her, it seemed like some extremely cruel cycle of torture. “You–you’re so beautiful.” 
Abby felt her stomach twist, your words sinking into her heart as she looked up to God for help, the sentiment rolling into her cunt. She was long gone, there was no absolution for her now, hell called to her– and she was answering. She dropped onto her knees, peering up at you with hooded eyes. “Open, angel.” She instructed, using her now free hands to gently push your legs open– feeling the release of tension in your muscles as she did so. 
You sunk into the couch, her touch sending chills down your spine, a whine slipping from your lips. “I m-mean it.” You whispered, feeling her soft breath puffing against your inner thigh as she took the seeping wetness onto her tongue. It took every piece of restraint you had not to buck your hips towards her face, craving the feeling of her tongue. “Y’so beautiful, It makes me feel funny.” 
The girl groaned at the taste of you, hands navigating to the waistband of your panties– dragging them down effortlessly before tossing them over her shoulder. She was unstoppable at this point, your tiny mewls of need urging her to dip her head down and claim you as hers all over again but she resisted. Her hands moved to grip your hips, pulling you further down on the plush couch, now level with your cunt as it dripped arousal onto the ancient floral of her skirt. She took a deep breath, letting the divinity wash over her, before sinking down to lick a broad stripe over your cunt– taking her time as the rough pad of her tongue came to your clit. 
“A-abby..” You gasped, hands clenching the fabric of your skirt to contain your impulses, head falling back to rest against the cushion. The ache had spread, now sending goosebumps onto your velvety skin, nipples hardening at the sudden stimulation. “Oh, my God.” 
A snicker tempted her lips, but she muffled it as she used a hand to spread your sticky folds, tongue dipping down to trail over your puffy slit. Here you were, cunt out for her taking, still praying to God. Something inside of her longed to be your creator, your God. She wanted you to fall at her feet, kiss the ground she walked on, look at her like she hung the stars in the sky– but she would never admit that. It was blasphemous, as nobody could be God except the man himself, the last guy who tried got a worse sentence than hell. She would settle for being the sole source of your pleasure, I’d keep you running back to her, and that would work for now. She brought a hand up to swipe some slick from your soaked cunt, using her thumb to massage the swollen bud. “Manners.” She tutted as she brought her head up, just barely hovering over your heat. 
You panted slightly, the feeling just as overwhelming as you remembered it, screwing your eyes shut as you nodded. “M’sorry, ma’am.” You whimpered, not brave enough to look back to her as you felt her blowing icy air onto the sensitive bundle of nerves– your cunt clenching around nothing, making her chuckle darkly. 
She dipped her tongue back into the warmth of your folds, lapping up the messy arousal that had continued to seep from your slit– the muscle dipping in to press against your soft walls. It was so euphoric, the way you managed to get so wet for her, it was somewhat of an ego trip– if she was being honest. A moan slipped from her chest, the vibrations making you squeak in pleasure– hips shuddering away from her, as she dug her fingers into the soft skin, holding you in place. Of all the ways to be sinful, she thought this had to be the best one, squeezing her thighs together to control the pulsing your little noises sent through her. 
The sensation made you moan, a burning tension in your stomach as her fingers continued to work on your clit. You couldn’t help but chase the feeling, legs shuddering around her head as her tongue stuffed itself into your aching hole. “Oh, oh.” You breathed, eyes fluttering with the sheer force of the pleasure rolling over your body. You didn’t understand how something so simple could feel so good, the precision of her movements making your legs tense around her head– squeezing as you felt the tension grow harder to handle, hips bucking against her mouth. “Please, ma’am, please.” You begged, hand coming to grip her loose braid. 
Abby removed her tongue, more than satisfied with the reaction she was getting from you, moving her free hand to slip a single digit into your tight cunt. The walls instinctually clenching around it as she began to pump it in and out, curling it when she felt it come knuckle deep inside your heat. “You feel that, angel?” She asked, licking her lips. “Only I can make you feel like that, nobody else.” 
You nodded, tears springing in your eyes as her finger dug into the spongy spot in your cunt, your back arching off of the couch– borderline screams pulling from your mouth as you felt the burning course through your body, hips jerking as she continued to thrust– walking you through the familiar euphoria. “Oh God, Oh God.” You moaned through broken puffs of air, hands shaking from how tightly you were gripping, feeling your cunt release a gush of liquid onto her hand. 
“That’s right, angel, cry out to God.” Her voice was heavy, slowing her motions to a stop as she peered up at you from her place on her knees. “M’right here.” 
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tarotwithavi · 9 months
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What is it like to be loved by you?
How do people you love/ have loved see you?
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Pile : 1~2~3
How to choose a pile?
Take a deep breath and close your eyes. Kindly ask your spirit guides to show you the right pile for yourself and then open your eyes. Whichever pile catches your attention is the right pile for you.
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Pile 1
Being loved by you is an extremely unique and captivating experience that intertwines passion, inspiration, and profound connection. Unknowingly you're a muse for those around you.
For those whom you love , you become the source of their creative inspiration, the very embodiment of their artistic vision. Your presence evokes a stirring within them, igniting a creative fire that fuels their imagination and propels their artistic expression to new heights. People who are loved by you can express themselves authentically, it makes them love themselves more.
They are drawn to your essence, captivated by your beauty, both outwardly and within.
Being loved by you means witnessing their vulnerability firsthand. People open themselves up, allowing you to glimpse into the depths of their aching souls. You witness their moments of self-doubt, their relentless pursuit of perfection, and their unwavering dedication to perfect themselves.
Being loved by you is a journey of self-discovery, mutual inspiration, and unspoken connection. It is a dance of passion and creativity, where your very existence becomes a catalyst for self expression. Together, you traverse the realms of imagination, transcending the boundaries of conventional love, and entering a realm where love and compassion intertwine in an extraordinary symphony of emotions.
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Pile 2
Being loved by you is like riding a rollercoaster. It is a wild journey filled with unpredictable twists and turns. Some moments bring sheer delight and exhilaration and Other times, fear grips them tightly, as doubts and insecurities creep in.
Every encounter with you is an adventure, an invitation to surrender to the thrill of the unknown. With each passing day, people can't help but wonder what awaits them around the corner. It is an experience that keeps them on their toes, never allowing them to get too comfortable.
Yet deep down, they know that this love is not meant to last forever. It is a temporary amusement, a fleeting joy. No matter how much they crave stability and security, they think that your time is limited. However it also makes them crave for more of you and your love. It's addicting.
Despite the uncertainty and the knowledge that the love would eventually come to a time of numbness, they can't resist the allure of your love. They are captivated by the exhilaration, the way you make them feel alive. Even in the midst of the fear and uncertainty, they find themselves holding on tightly, cherishing each moment of the love they think is forbidden.
Falling for you is like falling for trouble itself. It's a risky endeavour, filled with uncertainty and potential consequences but it is an addiction they can't resist. Some fear being loved by you because of how addicting it is. They have seen people fall for the way you love.
Gives me the vibe of the one that got away.
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Pile 3
Being loved by you is a truly transformative and life-changing experience. Your love is so profound that it has the power to touch the deepest parts of a person's soul. When you pour out your love, people can't help but be overwhelmed by its magnitude and the way it envelops them entirely.
Your love is like that of a toddler's favorite person. Just as a child finds comfort, joy, and unwavering trust in their favorite person, those fortunate enough to be loved by you experience a similar sense of security and contentment. Your affection becomes their safe haven, a place where they can always find solace and be themselves without any fear of judgment.
In your presence, people feel cherished and valued beyond measure. Your love has the ability to heal wounds, mend broken hearts, and restore faith in humanity. It's a love that brings out the best in others, inspiring them to be the most authentic version of themselves.
They become more confident, more compassionate, and more open to the wonders of life. Your love has the power to uplift and empower, encouraging others to pursue their dreams and embrace their true potential.
Being loved by you is an extraordinary privilege, for your love has the capacity to transform lives in profound ways. It's a love that knows no boundaries, that has the ability to break down walls and bridge divides. Those who are lucky enough to experience your love are forever grateful, knowing that they have encountered a love that is truly rare and special.
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stories-and-chaos · 1 month
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Shrike: Deal Makers
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[Hazbin Hotel reader insert as Alastor’s “darling life and death partner” Ace x ace relationship, both parties are moderately sex favorable.]
[One shot, word count 3629, Cw: violence, blood, death, attempted assault, cursing]
——————
The sounds of Pentagram City, gunshots, screams, and explosions, were a vague drone from within your home. Alastor was perusing the newspaper while you looked over the selection on the bookshelf. You’d read all the books at least once. Many were worn from being read multiple times over the decades. None of them was immediately appealing though.
You heard the crackle of radio static as your husband noticed your hesitation. The lanky demon set aside the paper to focus on you. “Trouble deciding my dear?” he asked, the hint of amusement in his voice telling you he had thought of something interesting.
You looked over at him, relaxing at the breakfast table. “Just a bit bored darling. Anything in the news I should know?” You poured yourself some coffee before sitting across from him.
“Hmm, nothing unusual. The rabble securing space before Extermination Day.” The yearly event was roughly a month away and demons were stepping up their preparations. It was similar to humans boarding up their homes before an incoming hurricane. You couldn’t stop the force of nature (or Heaven), you had to try to weather through it. “I’ll admit I’m feeling some ennui myself.” He sipped his coffee before continuing.
“Although…I did have a thought for some entertainment, cher,” he mused, his smile becoming more of a smirk as he raised an eyebrow temptingly.
“Really? Do share Alastor, don’t leave me in suspense.” You leaned forward, both elbows on the table as you cupped your mug in both hands.
His grin widened. “We know how desperate demons get around now, yes? Souls are easy pickings. So, let’s play a game my dear Y/N.” Your eyes brightened at the prospect and you could feel your wings rustling in anticipation. He continued, “Let’s have a contest between the two of us, cher. Who can acquire the most souls before Extermination Day? The one who loses…” he glanced around your home, trying to think of a consequence.
“The one with fewer new souls does all the dishes for a month. By hand,” you suggested. Neither of you enjoyed washing dishes and being able to use your wind or his shadow tentacles made the chore moderately tolerable.
The two of you had played other games and contests in your afterlife. The stakes for losing were ultimately low between you. You were partners after all. Trapping one’s partner in a deal had no appeal to yourself or Alastor.
Deal making with any other demon? That was entertainment.
“Excellent!” His ears perked up and his antlers stretched slightly as he agreed. This would be a perfect way to alleviate your boredom.
An hour later, the two of you strolled together to a plaza in your shared territory. Alastor took your hand and pressed your talons to his lips. “Bonne chance, cher.”
You used a bit of wind to raise you up so you could easily give him a peck on the cheek. “May the best Overlord win.” You backed up enough not to knock him over with your downdraft and took to the sky. Alastor twirled his cane and strolled off in another direction, humming in amusement.
It was times like this that you missed Husk’s casino. It had been an easy hunting ground. You tend to ensnare souls over time. Offer something small that they desperately wanted. Again and again, building up favors with the other demon. Eventually the favors could only be paid with their soul. Or if they had managed to keep their debt to you to a minimum, they would come to a point where what they wanted wasn’t something small. And if you could provide multiple small deals, surely you could make a substantial deal with them, even if it meant their soul.
The casino had been perfect for that, giving you ample opportunity to tempt Sinners with enough cash for another hand or another roll of the dice. And they always came back for more. A favor to a delicate little thing like you was essentially free.
Until it wasn’t.
But sadly, Alastor owned Husk now and his casino was safely tucked away amid dozens of other strongholds of former Overlords. So you had to find other places to play the game.
Of course there were other places to gamble in Hell. But you didn’t have the same understanding with the proprietors; waltzing in to offer collateral to desperate patrons wasn’t encouraged. Bars and drug dens had just as many degenerate souls craving funds you could offer.
At the moment however, the whole city was clawing to avoid Extermination Day. Being out on the streets was second suicide. If you couldn’t secure a hiding place on your own, working for someone who could provide one was the best option. Protection was worth more than money for the majority.
While Alastor looked like a powerful Overlord, you weren’t immediately intimidating. Sometimes you wished you were of a similar mold to Carmilla or Zeezi. Few doubted them, their presence was so powerful. You were what you were however. You hadn’t let your form stop you yet.
Landing in a distant section of the pentagram, you kept your eyes and ears open for potential opportunities as you walked. Sure enough, you found a perfect chance. And it reminded you of how you met Alastor.
A much more run down neighborhood than you frequented, the Sinners here had no issue with committing atrocities in the streets. Case in point; a trio of demons cornered a much smaller one. “You don’t wanna be all alone on Extermination Day, do you babe?” one of them said. He looked like a skeleton held together by acidic gel. One bony hand was pressed against the wall, cutting off the small cat-like demon’s escape.
The cornered demon shook his head mutely, his eyes pinning in fear. One of the other Sinners, this one a blue and orange cyclops, spotted you. “Whatcha looking at birdie? You can come along too, you’re cute enough.” The third demon moved to grab your arm in a lizard claw. His yellowed scales gleamed as he swung you up to the wall.
You could have broken away, but where was the fun in that? Besides, this was an opportunity to establish yourself in this area.
“Oooo, two for one special. C’mon bitches, we’ll keep you nice and safe from the big bad angels. All you gotta do is work for us.” The skeleton grinned, a green haze leaking between his teeth. “Couple cuties like you, we’ll make you bigger stars than that spider twink.”
The demon next to you shrank into himself, unconsciously hiding behind your wing. You put on a concerned air. “Oh mais la cher, I don’t think you can keep yourselves safe. You all look rather…what’s the word…pathetic, that’s it!” The cat demon looked at you like you were insane.
“What the fuck did you say?”
“I said you all looked pathetic. Weak? Unable to perform? I can go on.” The skeleton pulled back his arm to slap you. Or he tried. The instant he moved, you produced a stiletto that you jammed into his throat. He stumbled back, blade dislodging, with green fluid bubbling out from this mouth and neck wound.
“Bones!” the cyclops yelped as the gel melted away from the demon. That was his name?! You felt more than justified removing such a cliche punk from the afterlife. Before he could do more than yell, you thrust the blade into his giant orange eye. It was a much more convenient target than the man you first killed decades ago. Retinal fluid gushed out as he screamed, flailing at the stiletto.
The lizard demon backed away. “Fuck this shit!” He skittered away on all fours, disappearing into the sparse crowd. You let him go. Dead demons told no tales after all. If you wanted demons looking to you for protection, then you needed tales to spread.
Your talons had fluid splashed all over. “Ew,” you said mildly. The gore didn’t scare you, you’d gotten over that fear in life. But that didn’t mean you enjoyed being covered in it. You flicked your hands back and forth, a bit of wind helping to get the worst off and dry your hands.
The cyclops continued to moan in pain next to the pile of bones that was his buddy. You delicately sidestepped around him, avoiding the splatter of blood and fluid he was making as he thrashed around. “W-w-wait! Wait wait please!” came a shaky call from behind you.
You couldn’t help but grin before twirling around. The cat demon had stumbled forward, reaching for you. “You…you saved me.”
“I suppose I did. You’re welcome, cher,” you said in an airy tone as you started to move away.
“No, please! Help me! I’m not gonna make it through Extermination Day, please I’ll do anything!” he called, fear mixing with hope in his voice. Apparently he was having a very bad time in Hell and saw you as a lifeline.
“Anything? That’s quite a lot to offer to a demon you just met.” You faced him fully. Drawn by the cyclop’s cries and the sense of drama, a small crowd started to gather. “What’s your name?”
“André.”
“Y/N, the Singing Shrike.” There was a murmur in the crowd as some recognized your name. “If you’re willing to offer anything to an Overlord, then I’m willing to make a deal. My protection for your soul.” You held out your hand, still stained with retinal fluid and now emitting a silver light. “Do we have a deal?”
André’s ears flattened as he looked back and forth between your hand and the two demons, one dead and one dying, at your feet. “It’s a deal.” He clasped your hand firmly with his paw. There was a swirl of wind around you both that formed into a collar and chain on your new subordinate’s neck. It was only visible for a second. That’s one, you thought in satisfaction.
“Wonderful!” you chirped, clapping your hands once. “It’s always a delight to form new bonds, is it not? Now then, I’m feeling a bit parched. Let’s find something to drink while we discuss your future André.”
The reality of what he’d just done seemed to be sinking in, but he followed you anyway. It took a couple of blocks of walking before you found a decent looking coffee shop. You ordered two coffees, settled at an outdoor table and gestured at André to sit with you. The coffee was decent and you sipped the hot liquid before focusing on the cat demon.
“Now then. I’m sure you didn’t wake up this morning planning to sell your soul. You’re welcome to live and work wherever you like, so long as you understand that when I call you, you will be there. Follow my orders and we’ll get along fine. Now, what are your skills?”
It turned out he was a stage actor. He’d only been in Hell for a year and a half. The prospect of trying to survive Extermination Days every year made him a literal scaredy cat. Finding out he was an actor was a bonus. “That is perfect. Most of my followers are performers, you’ll fit right in, cher.” You penned an address on a card. “One of the theaters in my district. They’re auditioning after Extermination Day. I can set you up in our territory or you can keep staying where you are. Either way, I’ll call you on the Day to hold up my end of the deal.”
With that you sent him on his way; he said he’d take a look at your territory before deciding. Now you could drink your coffee and wait.
Before long, a female Sinner that had been in the crowd approached you. She looked like a luna moth, soft fluff and light green wings. “Miss Y/N? Are… are you… willing to make other deals?”
“Depending on the terms and the demon. Take a seat, cher, let’s talk.”
By the end of the day, you had five more souls in addition to André. The area you had come to wasn’t currently in dispute, but whoever was in charge was not doing a great job of maintaining any kind of order. So a decent handful were looking for someone, anyone, that could offer more security.
You were back home before Alastor and decided to start preparing dinner. Shrimp and grits sounded perfect after a day of negotiations. Alastor seemed to agree when he arrived. Over dinner the two of you compared your days.
Unsurprisingly, he had a slight number advantage already. But the game had just started and you weren’t about to concede to a mere three soul lead. He’d made a deal with a demon struggling to maintain a few blocks of territory. Once Alastor had the leader on a leash, the few souls he’d owned became Alastor’s as well.
For his part, your husband was thrilled at your disposal of two lowlifes and the lure you’d set in that area. “You’ve come a long way from a singer with a hat pin my dear.”
“So have you darling, from a radio host stalking the night with a knife.”
The month passed. Some days you returned to where you acquired André. Word had spread and other Sinners looking to avoid a second death came to offer their souls for safety. Other days you did offer small deals in other areas, building up to gaining a soul.
Some of your new demons spread word to their friends. And others heard of you from the lizard demon you let escape. Including the wannabe ruler of the neighborhood you were siphoning souls from.
There was a week left before Extermination Day and the end of your contest with Alastor. You had returned to the coffee shop you’d essentially taken over for negotiations. The owner had actually made a deal with you not too long ago, after witnessing you make so many without abusing your new subordinates. So she now had a source of better coffee and new machines due to be installed after Extermination Day. In the meantime she kept you and whoever joined your table supplied with drinks and snacks.
The crowd of Sinners approaching you now didn’t look like they were coming to negotiate however. They looked ready for a fight. One of the baristas whispered, “That’s the leader of the area and his gang, Miss.” You finished your drink and handed the cup to them. “Have everyone stay inside until I come in, cher.” The barista gladly dashed in the shop. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the workers and customers within scuttling about.
You leaned back in the metal chair as they came up to your table. The group of roughly a dozen demons was led by a skeleton with poisonously purple gel attaching all his joints. Fluid bubbled within the rib cage and a dull blue haze surrounded his shoulders. You simply waited, talons interlaced.
Your silence and slight smile irritated the tall creature. He was used to small female demons being intimidated by him and his goons. Evidently your calm was unnerving.
“So you're the bitch stealing all my people huh?” he finally hissed at you.
You tilted your head, “That’s a very interesting definition of ‘stealing.’ It’s rather difficult to steal something that doesn’t belong to anyone. And I can’t really blame any of the residents for coming to me after seeing the state of things here.”
He slammed a fist on the table, denting it. “First you kill my cousin, then you snatch away my people and now you insult me? I’m gonna show you your place girlie.”
His crowd of sycophants started hyping him up: “You tell her boss, fuck that bitch up, show her whatcha got Knuckles, she’s gotta pay for Bones.” This fool’s name was Knuckles? This lot was just sad if they couldn’t think of anything better.
The haze around his shoulders turned into flames as the bones of his hands grew. More flames erupted along his arms and fingers as his hands turned into spiked boxing gloves.
In response, you summoned dozens of stilettos into the air. They glimmered briefly before launching at the group. Squishy thuds were followed by cries of pain as the blades found their targets; eyes, throats, guts. Knuckles whipped his head around at his crew suddenly dropping in a dozen bloody messes.
You stood up, made sure of your footing, and leapt at the surprised bag of bones. You were too close to manage a flip, but a stab to the torso worked just fine. Or so you thought. As the leader stumbled down, carried by your momentum along with the sudden pain, the gel holding him together spewed fluid from the wound.
All that vibrant color was for a reason you realized as your hand burned with whatever the bastard was filled with splashed on your hand. “Fuck!” You kneed the skeleton in the jaw, sending him flat on his back, before quickly making a little whirlwind around your hand to get the fluid off.
Hissing through the pain, you planted a heeled foot on his skull. “Do you own any souls?” you asked roughly. Amazing how well the skeleton could show fear and confusion. You repeated the question, enunciating each word. He shook head. “Mais la, too bad.” You pulled your foot back slightly, turning his head. Then you kicked sharply with a gust for added power, twisting his head away and snapping his neck.
Stepping into the coffee shop, you called out, “All clear ladies and gentlemen. Zoe,” you gestured to the owner, “I need your last aid kit and the sink. And someone to clean up the mess.” You ran your burned hand under the water for a good twenty minutes, making sure you got all the acid(?) off. It was definitely a chemical burn but it was superficial. It would just hurt like a bitch.
Zoe helped you pay the area dry and wrap it in a clean bandage. “Are you going home Miss?” she asked nervously. You could guess any of the skeleton’s cronies that you hadn’t killed would be out for revenge once they realized he was dead. It was barely after lunch so there was ample time in the day for word to spread.
“And miss out on the next act?” You laughed as you settled back into your seat outside. “What kind of Overlord would I be if I left the job half done?” Only four demons came looking for trouble, but without you there that would have been even one too many.
Three joined their former boss in a heap of bodies. One, yet another gel connected skeleton with a blue color scheme, took a look at the pile of corpses, and decided selling his soul to you was the better option. Once you had the former grunt under your talon, you felt you could leave safely. You summoned a demon that had been with you for years. The hawk demon was used to being your occasional muscle. So you left the two of them to guard the shop. Meanwhile the body clean up decided burning the pile was their best option, especially with the acid skeleton mixed in. As you took off, they were lighting the gasoline drenched corpses on fire.
Alastor was home before you. Once he saw your bandaged hand he insisted on inspecting the wound. “Cher, how did this happen?” He asked, brows knitted as he unwrapped the bandage.
“Folly on my part. I didn’t realize the acidic looking demon was in fact, acidic.” Alastor examined the area and determined it was superficial as you thought. He applied ointment and rebandaged your hand. “At least now that I’ve killed that excuse for a gang leader it will be easier to acquire souls. I’ve got to close your lead cher.”
Your husband returned to the jambalaya he was preparing. “Are you still up to the contest my dear? I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to call it off now.”
“Of course I am!” You smacked the table with your good hand. “I’m not about to let a little injury stop me! I’m having too much fun.”
Your prediction was accurate. Without the neighborhood’s erstwhile leader and Extermination Day less than a week away, already desperate demons were losing their shit. You kept your new muscle, Calve, with you. He proved to be a decent informant. He resented you of course; you’d taken out his whole gang including his cousins. Your charm wore him down and by the end of the week he had a grudging respect for you.
Extermination Day arrived. The night before you had ensconced all your new souls into your territory. Doors and windows were fortified; the angels liked easy pickings and extra barriers meant they often went looking for other targets. It was only when they couldn’t find demons in the open that they started breaking down entrances.
In relative safety, you and Alastor finished your final tallies. 122 new souls for you and 124 for him. The last six days had helped you catch up but he still managed to squeak by a win.
“Ah, I do feel bad, making you wash all the dishes when your hand is still injured,” he mused as screams filled the air outside.
You examined your freshly bandaged hand. “Well, if you are that concerned, you can continue with the chore until I’m healed up. Should only be a few more days. I’ll even add a few days onto my end as an apology.”
“Hmm,” Alastor hummed, thinking it over. He grinned as another shriek pierced the air. “It’s a deal.”
———————
@whitewolfsoldat @edgyboi10000 @ch3sire-blu3 @clearly-awkward @badatpunz @bengewatch @chewbrry
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