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storiesoflilies · 2 months

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Of Angels and Curses

Synopsis - In a world where Angels and Curses are locked in a never ending war, an unsuspecting seraph becomes entangled with the very thing she is fated to eradicate.

Pairings - Curse!Toji Fushiguro x f!Angel!Reader. Curse!Ryomen Sukuna x Reader. Angel!Satoru Gojo x Reader.

Warnings - Descriptions of violence and injuries, eventual smut.

A/N: Aaand he’s here!!!! Happy Valentine’s Day everyone, spread the love and feels, enjoy the chapter! <3 Ko-Fi.

Next Part - Chapter 5

-•-

Chapter 4

In the stillness of the dead of night, she felt it. An aura that somehow cast a veil of darkness so profound that it deepened the already foreboding sky of Hell. It was a spine-tingling symphony, a waltz of electricity, setting her heart pulsating with tantalizing anticipation. Unfolding in hues of emerald and midnight, it crept towards her, fueled by desire and urgency.

He’s here.

Y/N could feel him acutely, a phantom presence that transcended the actual physical distance between them. In the hushed serenity of her room, she sensed his approach to her – for her. Was she to be gathered and taken to his kingdom like a cherished flower? Or was she to be claimed and ripped away from Geto like a debt owed? It was as if she was a coveted prize rightfully won for eternally silencing the very thunder and might of the Angels.

Only a few hours had passed since her conversation with her brother, and she had only experienced bouts of fitful sleep amidst the pulsating back pain. So she had been awake well before she heard the door creak open and the light pitter-patter of footsteps approaching her bed. A hand placed itself on her shoulder, softly shaking it, and Y/N opened her eyes to look at who had disturbed her.

“Apologies for waking you,” a young girl with dark brown hair whispered softly. Another, her twin, with caramel hair, stood silently behind her. “Your presence is required, and we have been instructed to dress you.”

She knew these girls; she had seen them in Heaven not two moons ago. They were Geto’s young protégés, taken under his wing after their parents had died: Nanako and Mimiko. They must have chosen to follow him on his mission to rain hellfire upon Heaven. Y/N nodded her head, slowly rising from the bed, the sheets rustling as she moved. The twins hurried over, their arms hovering around her to support her while she found her footing. Despite the fiery pain in her back, she managed to stand, albeit shakily. Nanako swiftly moved over to the deep wooden wardrobe opposite the bed, and retrieved a black yukata from within it. Together, the twins donned the garment on her, and tied a simple white sash belt around her waist to complete the ensemble. Guided to the vanity table, Y/N settled onto the small wooden stool before the extravagant mirror, allowing the girls to brush and smooth her hair into a style reminiscent of Geto’s.

Indeed, she almost laughed at how similarly dressed she was to her brother. Had the twins done so intentionally of their own accord, or perhaps they had been ordered to? It was a powerful statement regardless; as if her and Geto were bound together by blood woven into the same familial tapestry, boldly asserting that she wouldn’t be so easily surrendered to him - to Toji. The twins seemed unperturbed by the charged atmosphere; Nanako looked almost irritated, while Mimiko displayed no particular emotion on her face.

Impatience.

“Mimiko, where is Suguru?” Y/N asked, hastily rising from the stool, spurred on by his emotions coursing through the bond, while the girls hovered close by her as she took urgent steps outside the bedroom.

Mimiko raised her eyebrows, perhaps surprised that Y/N even remembered her name, “He’s waiting for you in the throne room. We’ll take you there.”

The trio walked wordlessly down the seemingly endless corridors of Geto’s halls. The walls were made of dark stone, adorned with grand paintings depicting portraits, landscapes, and great battles fought both in Hell and on Earth. Memories of Gojo’s tower came to mind, but where his abode was pristine and crisp, Geto’s palace reflected his new enigmatic and frosty personality. Windows lined the top of the walls, yet no light shone through them, and Y/N doubted any ever had before. Perhaps no light could penetrate this deep into the Earth. How then, were they able to detect the passing of time? Did the residents of Hell simply yield to their passing whims, indulging in eating and sleeping whenever they felt like it?

She didn’t dislike that thought, it was almost liberating.

His aura intensified the longer they walked, and Y/N knew they must be approaching the throne room. She swallowed a thick lump in her throat, the gravity of impending events settling deep in her stomach. Her scar seemed sinister, a damning signature of Toji’s ownership; physical evidence that would be hard to deny his claim. After enduring her seemingly impending death in Mahito’s prison, she was going to face him again. Could he feel everything she experienced during her imprisonment? The air thickened in anticipation as Nanako opened the doors to the throne room, and they all stepped forward.

Y/N eyes immediately locked on to him.

The tension was palpable, charged with both peril and allure as they faced each other. His deep green eyes bore into her, dangerously enticing, moulding a direct connection between them that cut through the space separating them. His whole essence exuded power; his burly build commanded attention as he stood a considerable distance from Geto’s throne. His midnight hair was tousled, framing the contours of his jawline, and she couldn’t help but notice the scar gracing the corner of his lips; as deep and violent as he was. She was magnetized, her soul yearned for her body to be close to him, and yet she stayed put. The twins placed her to stand a step below the throne where her brother sat pensively, then quickly scuttled out of the room. The atmosphere seemed to have finally provoked a reaction from them, and perhaps they were wise to run from the scene.

Toji’s eyes hardened as he took her in, his jaw tightening, and his thick forearms flexed with barely restrained fury. A peculiar, worm-like Curse coiled around his build like a snake, reacting to the movement of its master. Y/N looked down, unable to bear the anger in his gaze, while Geto shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Bring him here,” Toji commanded lowly, prompting her to look up sharply at the sound of his voice.

He sounded like the rumbling of a distant thunderstorm; Y/N thought she could listen to him forever.

Geto nodded and waved his hand at an unseen servant lurking in the shadows behind the throne. Within seconds, a flaming portal materialized in the center of the room, and a disheveled Mahito tumbled through as if he had been forcefully shoved. He fell to the ground, undignified and pathetic, yet his eyes gleamed with all the madness of a cornered animal about to strike.

Rage.

A black flash tore through the air.

Toji reacted instantaneously, a violent burst of movement as he closed the distance between him and his prey with supernatural swiftness. He struck Mahito in a symphony of uncontrolled chaos, the ferocity of his brutal blows leaving no room for even an ounce of mercy. The air crackled as the tension broke through the whirlwind of Toji’s relentless attack, and Y/N felt an unsettling, sick sense of satisfaction, entranced by the visceral ballet of vengeance unfolding before her. Every strike echoed not only physically but also emotionally, as her kidnapper and Nanami’s killer finally faced his punishment. It was thrilling to even think that Toji was driven to such a profound level of violence just for her.

How much had she had changed since descending into Hell? Y/N found herself actually wishing pain upon a living soul – even one as black as Mahito’s – and it was a startling realization.

“You’re. A. Fucking. Child. You don’t know. What. The word. NO. Means,” Toji hissed between blows, his fury punctuating each word as he struck right into Mahito’s throat, robbing the Curse of any possibility of a reply.

His onslaught ceased as abruptly as it had begun, leaving the air heavy with the remnants of violence. Toji stood over the broken form of Mahito, his broad chest heaving; displaying a calmness that starkly contrasted against his previous fury. An uneasy stillness seeped back into the room, and Geto leaned forward on his throne, meeting Toji’s expectant gaze.

“What exactly did you have planned for this one?” Toji inquired, his voice now resonating like a loud thunderclap.

“I thought I would leave that decision to you, given the circumstances,” Geto replied carefully, his words deliberately measured.

Her brother appeared uncharacteristically reserved, walking on eggshells, carefully considering every word and movement in the presence of the superior king.

“Smart, but the question still remains of what to do with him,” Toji hummed, giving Mahito’s crumpled body a pointed kick. The Curse made no sound, lying there almost lifeless, yet his eyes and mouth were wide open, staring at Toji in shock.

“You can kill him if you wish, I have no objection,” Geto suggested.

He chuckled darkly and raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with her brother, “I don’t need your permission or approval. Do you need another reminder of your place here?”

Geto said nothing, and Toji’s threat settled heavily in Y/N’s chest. What sort of torment had he inflicted on her brother? Moreover, what had Geto done to warrant it?

“I can’t kill him, the others would ask too many questions,” Toji muttered, crossing his arms. “I assume you haven’t told anyone else about… this situation.”

“As far as everyone is aware, you are hunting Satoru Gojo’s wife to eliminate her and his possible spawn. Nobody is aware of Mahito’s involvement in all of this… or your bond with my sister,” Geto replied smoothly.

Toji’s eyebrows raised once more, and he smirked, “Sister, huh? What a happy family reunion.”

His forest green eyes swept over Y/N again, and she sucked in a breath as she felt her body sway under his intense gaze. Their connection snapped into focus again, and she could sense all the churning emotions within his soul swirling like a stormy sea. It was so curious how he somehow managed to maintain his cool and collected exterior, while she was crippled and barely able to speak. Geto cleared his throat, visibly irked, abruptly interrupting their moment. Toji’s eyes flicked over to her brother, annoyance flickering in his irises, and his anger rose steadily like a wave building momentum to crash onto the shore. She tensed, fists clenching, readying herself to bear witness to another episode of violence between him and Geto. Yet, she refused to stand by idly and watch; Y/N would defend her brother just as he had defended her. He had saved her life more than once, and she was worth less than nothing if she didn’t attempt to do the same. Of course Toji noticed her shift in energy, his eyes flashing as he let out an exaggerated sigh, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

Effort… dwindling anger.

“Mahito is to remain in prison for the rest of his days,” Toji gritted, eyes opening again to glare at Geto. “You say to the others that he deliberately hid her from me, despite knowing about the bounty, and this is his punishment. Is that clear?”

“Agreed,” Geto said, waving his hand once more. The same fiery portal appeared once more, sucking Mahito’s battered body back through it and zapping closed.

It was deathly silent now, and the pair watched and waited for Toji to continue his demands, the gears in his head turning as he deliberated.

“As for your sister, well… I have no cause to kill her. She is not pregnant with the Six Eyes’ child, and has obviously become one of us now. That’s what you and I will say if any of the others ask about her,” he continued.

Toji stalked towards the throne, his steps deliberate and menacing, until he stood a mere foot away from Y/N. He towered over her, staring deep into her eyes. Geto stood up abruptly, clearly unhappy with his proximity. What exactly he planned on doing she didn’t know, but her soulmate ignored her brother this time.

“Hey you, what’s your name?” Toji demanded, voice deep and haunting, lingering like smoke, as he addressed her directly for the first time.

“Y/N,” she whispered.

He licked his lips, savoring her name like a sweet, and a jolt of energy rushed through her as he hummed, “Do you want me dead, Y/N? For killing your husband.”

Oh, how she loved the sound of her name on his lips; it was divine. She could listen to him forever.

“He wasn’t my husband.”

Interest… relief.

Toji smirked, head tilting to the side as he continued. “I corrupted you, little angel. My sinful soul is bound to you now, and you’ve been cast out of Heaven because of me. Are you sure you don’t want to kill me anyways?”

Her heart hammered as he took a step closer, and she thought he might just reach out and touch her. Toji had figured out the reason for her becoming a curse quicker than she thought, but it wasn’t the only reason. Geto’s energy shifted dangerously, Y/N could feel his power gathering; dark shadows gathering beneath his feet like a serpent ready to strike if Toji took so much as another inch forward – who wasn’t fazed in the slightest. He stood taller than them all; a storm that wouldn’t be deterred from its course. She knew if he wanted to take her away by force, he absolutely could.

“No,” she finally said.

“Hmm, good. In that case, I think it best we have a little arrangement, you and I,” Toji said, finally turning his head up to acknowledge Geto.

“Such as?” Her brother asked, suspicion lacing his words, as his eyes narrowed, his power subsiding just a fraction.

“Consider us allies from here on out. I will not attack you, nor you me, although I doubt you even have the strength to attempt that. So long as Y/N remains here with you, she is not to ascend to Earth for any reason, and in return I expect that your doors are always open for me.”

Toji continued, his words reverberating throughout the room like thunder. “Us three in this room will not speak a word to anyone else of Y/N’s bond with me. You have enough enemies as it is Geto, and my old family aren’t exactly fond of me either. They all don’t need much excuse to kill a Fallen, you know.”

“You may be sending us both to war with this secret alliance,” Geto said. “The others will not appreciate an agreement like this. We are far too powerful united.”

Toji snorted. “We are by no means united, but let them try. If you both keep it together, nobody will figure it out.”

It was silent, and Y/N looked up at her brother, who met her gaze. She could discern any hint on his face as to what he would decide, but was it really a choice? If he said no, what would Toji do? Would it be considered war if he denied another King? In a way, it was just as when Gojo had proposed; only offering an illusion of choice.

“Well?” He huffed impatiently. “Do you agree?”

“Agreed,” Geto gritted, his jaw stiff.

Toji smirked, and looked down at her once more.

“Well then little angel, I’m assuming you would like to stay and catch up with your brother. I’m sure there’s so much you still have to talk about,” he mocked, sly and cruel, his scar stretching as he spoke down to her.

Y/N could only nod, his proximity both exhilarating and debilitating, but she was surprised. Toji had given her a choice, like a fleeting and fragile bloom that lingered just within her grasp. Geto had made it seem Toji would come plundering through his halls to whisk her away, dragging her deeper into his layer of Hell and all his sins. Y/N loathed herself in that moment, her injuries left her incapable of defending herself, and her grief silenced her from speaking up for herself. She was just a pawn in a chess game between monsters and gods; completely out of her depth, like a lost child, not much better than Mahito condemned in prison. Her back started to throb painfully, perhaps because she had been standing too long, or perhaps her self-depreciation had reminded her of the pain that had been there all along. Toji cocked his head at her, his eyes flashing, questioning her without words.

… apologetic?

“I suppose it’s getting late,” he yawned widely, fake and exaggerated. “Take care of yourselves and stay out of trouble, yeah?”

Toji snapped his fingers, and a flaming portal opened up behind him with a thunderous roar. He strode towards it, his back turned to them, the worm slithering menacingly around his arms in loops. Suddenly, he stopped just before the portal, his presence casting a looming and ominous shadow over the room.

And then, he was gone.

-•-

Soon, Y/N discovered, was entirely subjective to Toji’s passing whims.

Two months had dragged by since she, and even Geto for that matter, had seen her Curse in the flesh. Every morning, her heart leaped and mind raced, wondering whether that day would be the day she saw him again. But it never happened, and her brother thought it strange too, considering how fast Toji had arrived when he found out where she was. She couldn’t feel any of his emotions through their bond; perhaps it only sparked to life like a wildfire when they were about to stand face to face. Still, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling a piece of his puzzle had slotted comfortably into her being – a constant and comforting presence that she yearned for, but remained in the background just out of reach.

Despite Toji’s absence, Y/N threw herself wholeheartedly into her recovery process, taking it one day at a time. Her wounds had healed over nicely, leaving two large scars resembling whip lashes on her back where her wings had once been. Though they twinged from time to time, she was no longer crippled, and that was what mattered most. Geto had even resumed sparring with her, trying to help strengthen her muscles and body again, which stirred deep memories with her of her old life.

“You and Nanami fight exactly the same way, and you don’t even use anything I taught you,” he had commented under his breath, as he easily dodged Y/N, preventing her from landing a critical blow.

“That’s not a bad thing,” she huffed, irritated that she had not managed to land a hit on her brother yet. She was still too stiff and wildly unbalanced, partly due to the missing weight of her wings. However, she found she was far more agile than she was before – if only she could control it.

“Hah, you’re like a baby learning to walk,” he snorted, as she fell over quite hard into the dirt, having overestimated how far up into the air she could leap.

She glared at him hard, wiping the sweaty grime from her forehead. “It makes no sense. How can I jump higher without wings?”

“It’s a blessing about becoming a Curse,” Geto smirked, holding a hand out to help her up. “I like to think it was done to help us fight Angels flying in the sky, although most of us learn how to fly without wings with cursed energy.”

“I know that already, but why can’t I control it?” Y/N snapped as Geto hauled her up. She wasn’t really angry; it was more annoyance of her own failings, and her brother’s perfection: his perfect robes, his perfect hair with not a single strand out of place, and his perfectly annoying ability to excel at everything.

Geto laughed gently, “You will sweet sister, one step at a time. Now… let’s try again.”

And such was the routine most days. The mornings and afternoons were spent with sparring, while the evenings were dedicated to swimming in a large, deep pool underneath the palace. It was connected to different rooms within the palace, like her bedroom and Geto’s room, via secret passageways carved into the foundations of the mountain where her brother’s abode was built. It led to the center of the mountain, where there was a large pool, and another small, narrow passage that led directly out of the mountain. Y/N enjoyed it; the water was warm, perhaps even scalding, but her body had well adjusted to the heat of Hell. It was also secluded, which she greatly appreciated, allowing the pair to swim without any other Curses overlooking them.

It was during these evenings that Geto taught her the politics and ways of life of her new world, and it was not long after Toji’s visit that Y/N had asked him about the threat against him.

“In Hell,” Geto began, a dark look ghosting his face like a fog. “If you challenge a King to a fight to the death and they lose, you have every right to take their place. And that’s what happened. I won against the previous King – Kashimo Hajime.”

Kashimo had commanded the very lightning of storm clouds; Y/N had seen his portraits still proudly hanging in the hallways of the palace. With hair as vibrant as a cyan sea and eyes to match, he looked every bit as crazed and untamable as the power he wielded; a force of nature confined to a Cursed form. Their battle would have been a sight to behold, a spectacle beyond compare.

“You challenged him when you first turned?” Y/N asked, surprised, her eyebrows raised as her arms rested against the edge of the pool while Geto sat with his legs in the water.

He shook his head. “No, he tried to kill me. I killed him first.”

“Why’d he want to kill you?”

Geto kicked his legs in the water, splashing her from the side. “How do I put this? Not all Curses here seem to think beings like us are equal to them.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, that true-born Curses do not deem Fallen Angels to be proper Curses. They think we are inferior to them, and they do not trust us or respect us because we were born in Heaven.”

“So… he tried to kill you for being an Angel? But you chose to fall, and other Fallen Angels are no different to true-born Curses energy, they’re all the same.”

“I know that sister, but how can you try and explain prejudice? Because that’s what it is, and that is the way Hell is. There are more true-born Curses nowadays than Fallen than in the olden days of Sukuna.”

Y/N was perplexed. “Well, what about Sukuna then?”

“What about him?” Geto asked, using his arms to push himself off the ledge and propel himself into the pool. His broad strokes cut through the water, and he leaned his head back as he swam, soaking his silken hair.

“He is a Fallen, or have they all forgotten?”

“They conveniently forget, I suppose. Sukuna’s power as a Curse is so great to the point that one forgets who he ever was before. It simply doesn’t register that he is anything other than a Curse. He was the original Curse, from where they were all born, even if his origin wasn’t a true-born.”

They were silent for a while, and Y/N did a few more laps of the pool before taking a break and swimming back towards Geto.

“So Hajime tried to kill you for being a Fallen?” she asked, bringing the conversation back around.

“Not exactly,” Geto said, letting her hang from him behind from him in the water, her arms draped over his shoulders like a cloak. “He claimed he didn’t like my plans for the war against Heaven, but I think he undermined in front of the others, so he tried to kill me to teach a lesson to other Fallen about what happens when they try to lead.”

“That obviously didn’t work,” Y/N remarked quietly, leaning her chin on his shoulder.

“No… no it didn’t.”

“So, how did you manage to anger another King of Hell during your first month here? Idiot.”

“Hmm, I admit after killing Hajime that I became a little… cocky. I challenged Toji for the rule of the Second Layer, my reasoning being that it would be easier to wage my war if I had two of the most powerful armies behind my back. I’d acquired power rather quickly, I wanted more, and I suppose it got to my head.”

Geto grimaced, and looked down at the giant ragged scar that reached all the way from his torso to his chest. “This is the result of my said idiocy.”

We’re both marked forever by his brutality.

“Why he let me live, I don’t know,” Geto continued, gently shaking her off his shoulders and exiting the pool. “Maybe you can ask him the next time you have a chat.”

Her stomach churned and bubbled with nerves at the thought of meeting Toji again, but she said nothing.

“Is he… a Fallen?” Y/N asked uncertainly, apprehension in her voice. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

“True-born, traditionally procreated between Curses,” Geto replied smoothly, squeezing the water from his hair. “He belongs to the Zenin Clan of the Fifth Layer, where his cousin Naoya is King. Toji left the clan hundreds of years ago; I think it had something to do with his lack of cursed energy. He changed his last name to Fushiguro some time after that.”

“I see.”

Geto motioned with his hand for her to come over. “Come, let’s go and eat. I’ll tell you more about the rest of the Kings.”

Her brother was true to his word. As they ate later that evening, he told her everything he knew about them all. Sukuna himself had never ascended to Earth since the day he fell from Heaven, keeping much to his own kingdom – the Malevolent Shrine was his palace where he was almost a recluse. He apparently only bothered with Curse business within Hell, and even then he rarely emerged. Whenever the Kings of Hell decided to meet all together, Sukuna himself never came – instead sending his representative Uraume to watch, listen, and report back to him. What he did with that information, nobody knew, for there never was a reaction or repercussion.

The Fourth Layer King was called Jogo, a cruel and ill-tempered Curse that seemed to be born from the very volcanic mountains that spewed the Earth in ash and malice. Him and his retinue were the most mistrustful and hateful of her brother, turning up their noses to him as if they smelled something foul. Geto guessed they would be the first to declare open enmity toward him if it ever came down to it. Meanwhile, Naoya Zenin was a smug and pretentious bastard, according to Geto, who spread venom and lies with his honeyed words. The Zenin’s had ruled the Fifth Layer for nearly as long as Sukuna had been a Curse, and their prejudice was by far the worst, especially against those they deemed lesser than themselves.

Choso Kamo was King of the Sixth Layer, and Geto didn’t seem to know much about him. However, he was the first instance of the product between a Curse and Angel procreating together. Therefore, he had received much abuse from the other Kings before Geto had arrived – who was now the new target of their malice, but his strength as King kept them from overstepping thus far. He ruled both the Sixth and Seventh Layer; the latter not really a kingdom, more so a breeding ground for Curses to be conceived and born. It was Choso’s duty to root through the dirt and find gold, and more often than not his prodigies were taken away by other Kings to join their armies instead of his. Y/N couldn’t help but pity him, wondering what became of his parents, for she’d never heard of his story before.

Until it happened to her, Y/N never even thought a Curse and Angel could become soulmates.

-•-

Y/N pushed open the door to her bedroom, her fingers absentmindedly twirling her freshly washed and smoothed hair. Another thing she couldn’t get used to in her new life was the twins. Nanako and Mimiko waited on her, helped her bathe and dress every morning and night, and changed her bandages whenever her wounds were more severe. They helped her to navigate Geto’s palace, a blessing; the amount of times Y/N got lost was too numerous to count, and the twins had somehow known where she was every time. From what she could tell, the twins seemed to like her well enough, though perhaps that was only due to her relationship with Geto, whom they adored. Which was fair enough – trust and respect had to be earned. But she couldn’t help but feel they all shared the same battle of being Fallen amidst true-born Curses, and therefore she felt some kinship to them already.

Y/N hadn’t faced open disdain from any of the other Curses in her brother’s court. Perhaps some hesitant and suspicious looks, but nobody really went out of their way to speak to her. However, they weren’t entirely opposed if she came up to them with a question – mainly about her brothers whereabouts, or about the identities of the faces in the portraits on the wall. It was strange; she hadn’t considered the possibility of prejudice until Geto had mentioned it, and now it weighed heavily on her mind. Y/N felt she had to tread even more carefully to avoid inadvertently causing offense; her brother had already risked enough to save her life and keep her hidden.

She shut the door behind her, and clicked the lock shut for the night. Her eyes had somehow sharpened over the past two months, and she could now discern the slight darkening of the sky, signaling night had fallen on Heaven and Earth. It helped to structure a rough routine for a time to sleep. The twins had changed her bedsheets for her, opting for a deep mauve color instead of bla–

Y/N froze.

Her balcony door was swung wide open, definitely not as she or the twins would have left it.

She cautiously approached the door, her senses on high alert. Had someone managed to breach through all of Geto’s defenses and entered her room? The thought sent a shiver down her spine, and her mind raced with terrifying possibilities. Had the real reason she was in Hell become public knowledge, prompting an assassin to come and kill her? She lightly stepped just before the doorframe, peaking out onto the balcony.

Toji stood leaning casually against the bronze railing of the balcony, an air of nonchalance about him as he gazed out into the dark expanse beyond the mountain.

“What are you doing here?” Y/N exclaimed, apprehension and relief flooding her, her paranoia crashing down like a waterfall. His presence was equal parts alarming and comforting.

He turned to look at her, shrugging casually. “Just passing through,” he replied cryptically.

His gaze lingered on her longer than necessary, and she shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny.

“Does my brother know you’re here?” she asked, looking over her shoulder as if he was going to burst through her bedroom at any moment.

“Probably not,” Toji smirked, turning his body completely towards her, his green eyes gleaming. “I did say I would be paying you a visit, didn’t I?”

“Yes, it’s just… been a while.”

“I’ve been busy, little angel. Hell doesn’t run itself you know? I would have come sooner if I could.”

Y/N studied him for a moment, trying to detect any deception or malice in his expression or through the bond, but could discern nothing but familiarity and a strange sense of intrigue. However, here was her chance; now that she was stronger and more resilient, she wouldn’t let him dictate the course of this situation any longer.

“Well, whatever it is you want, next time don’t surprise me here. These are my private quarters,” she said, injecting irritation into her voice, a spark of bravery edging her on.

Respect.

Toji raised an eyebrow at her, clearly not expecting her to respond that way. “My apologies. Next time, I’ll make a formal announcement and wait for you in the throne room where everyone can see us together.”

It was silent for a moment, a little bit of tension seeped through the air with his sarcastic response. He cleared his throat, leaned his arms behind him, and tightly gripped the rails.

“Well, I hope Hell has been up to your standards. I know it’s probably not as nice as to what you’re used to,” he said bluntly, an underlying tone of nervousness in his words that satisfied her.

“It’s… different,” she said, not really sure what else to say and not wanting to cause offense. “But I’m content, if that’s what you really want to know.”

“Hmm, I’ll bet. Your brother being good to you, yeah?” He pressed, his arms rocking him back and forth against the rail.

“Always.”

“Good good. I’m glad. You both staying out of trouble?”

“Is that why you’re here? To see if I’m behaving?”

“Sure, why not?”

This side of Toji was a stark difference to when he was in front of Geto in the grandeur of the throne room. Now, in the quiet and suddenly intimate setting of her balcony, he was almost… softened. Did he not feel the need to flaunt his power in front of her? His apprehension was surprising, but Y/N felt almost empowered by this unguarded side of him. It gave her a newfound sense of control she didn’t have before, and she was growing into her new world, like a fragile blossom emerging from the soil trying to reach for the sun.

“You seem… much better than before,” he said slowly, gruffly, snapping her out of her train of thought. “Stronger.”

“Yeah, I’m managing,” she admitted. “All my wounds have nearly fully healed. Geto has started training me again, it’s been good for me.”

Toji smirked at her, “Good to hear, you ever beat him?”

She smiled, a real one, and his green eyes sparkled at the sight of it. “Not yet.”

More.

“Hmm, maybe I can teach you my way to fight,” he suggested, a playful tone lacing his words.

“Maybe,” Y/N mused, walking slowly towards the railing and leaning against it, still keeping some distance between them.

She felt Toji looking at her with interest, making her face burn, and he turned around to lean against the railing once again. ““Humor me on this, though. How did you actually fight properly with wings? I mean, surely they’re just in the way.”

“Not really, I just did I suppose. The same way you can tell when night falls in Hell, even though it’s always dark.”

They stood together in silence, the warm night air carrying the distant sound of the city below the mountain. Toji wasn’t here to stir trouble, Y/N finally decided, as her earlier apprehension melted away. There was no hint of anger from him; instead he seemed almost… relaxed.

“I don’t think I would wish for them back though,” she continued, not sure where the urge came to open up to him, but it was there nonetheless.

“No?”

“No, I think I’m too used to being without them now. I feel… different, but it’s better.”

“I see.”

It was quiet again, before Toji asked slowly, “Did it hurt when you lost them?”

“I think so… I don’t really remember. I was in a fever dream; I couldn’t really feel or see anything at all really.”

He tensed, gripping the rails tightly. Y/N almost swore she could see the bronze metal bend just slightly.

“I could feel you were sick, you know?” He stated, his voice hard.

She was surprised at this. “Really? I can only feel you when you’re close.”

“I don’t really know how all this works, maybe it’s different for each of us.”

“Maybe…”

“Anyway, I could feel it. I didn’t know exactly what it was. It makes sense now you’ve told me, but at the time I thought your mind had broken.”

Y/N sighed heavily, “It did… I think I saw strange things. I don’t really want to remember.”

“I can imagine,” Toji muttered, his tone almost gentle.

They were silent for some time, comfortably so, watching the horizon. Y/N was the one to break the silence this time.

“I don’t think our bond was the only reason I became… a Curse,” she admitted, her voice trailing off.

“How so?”

Y/N bit her lip nervously, grappling with the sheer weight of what she was about to admit. Toji tilted his head at her curiously, patiently waiting for her to answer, his rapt attention making her even more shy. She took a deep breath in to steady herself before continuing.

“I was willing to stand with you against Satoru… I didn’t want you to die by his hand.”

Interest… surprise.

“And that’s enough for you to get exiled?” Toji asked slowly, digesting the information. “That’s harsh,” he added, his voice laced with disbelief.

“Yes, because I made the choice to betray my own kind, and I would have been in between you both if Nanami hadn’t stopped me. He would have done it too, I think, if I wasn’t… injured.” she said the last part slowly, carefully, softly. The memory of Nanami still brought her to tears if she didn’t steel her heart against the onslaught of emotions.

His emerald orbs softened, and he moved just a fraction closer to her. “Your friend must have cared a lot about you to risk condemning himself to Hell.”

“He was the best of us,” she sniffed, her firsts tightening, holding her breath to steady herself.

It was quiet for a long time after that. The gravity of Nanami’s sacrifice weighed heavily on her shoulders, and Y/N doubted she would ever be free of it for as long as she lived. She stole a glance at Toji, trying to find solace in his presence, but the question remained – was he going to prove himself worthy enough to justify Nanami’s death? The wind whispered mournfully, lamenting everything she had lost to bring her to this moment: her home, her wings, Satoru.

“Listen, I-,” Toji started, closing his mouth abruptly, clearly searching for the right words to say as he avoided direct eye contact with her. “I just wanted to say, I’m sorry for what happened.”

He was tense; clearly this was new to him – apologizing. She whispered, “What for exactly?”

Toji rolled his eyes and huffed, “For nearly killing you, what do you think?”

The scar on her stomach tingled with a faint, phantom-ache, and she instinctively placed her hand over it. Toji’s gaze followed her movement, his frown deepening, and his fists clenched the bar even tighter this time.

Shame… self loathing.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore, and you didn’t know any better,” she said, her voice soft as she placed her hand back on the railing.

He pursed his lips but said nothing, his gaze fixed on the city below. The air fell thick with tension again, heavy with both their emotions, as they both grappled with the weight of their unspoken regrets. Y/N wanted to change the subject to lighten the solemn veil over them, and to unravel the stories and battles that had sculpted the myserious Curse standing beside her.

“So you can feel me, huh?” Toji said suddenly, nearly making her jump, but there was a lighter tone to his voice. “What does it feel like?”

Y/N smiled shyly, searching for the right words. She couldn’t possibly tell him that he felt like smoke and lightning – powerful and elusive, utterly out of her grasp, and she doubted she would ever understand it.

“You feel… familiar. Like I’ve known you for a very long time,” she finally said, settling for a much less daunting truth.

His gaze became kinder, and he rested his head against his hand, staring at her and making her feel shy all over again. “I know what you mean.”

“What does it feel like for you?”

“Hmm… like you’re there all the time now, in my head. It’s like you know what I’m doing all the time, and you’re watching me. I feel I don’t have to tell you things because I think you already know everything.”

“I actually don’t, and I have been wondering what does a King of Hell do all day long?”

Toji’s lip twitched, “Oh? Does your brother not tell you what he gets up to?”

“I’m asking you, not about him,” Y/N rolled her eyes, smiling.

“Well,” he grunted, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “I mainly handle my armies strategies and organization. I make sure they’re running well, and if they’re not, well, then that’s where I come in.”

“And when all is well in war, what then?”

“And then… maybe I’ll lend an ear to whatever squabbles the other Curses are having, but if I can avoid it, I will.”

“So that’s what you’re doing here then?”

And he finally laughed, a glorious and heart-stopping smile spreading across his face. Y/N was transfixed, her soul suspended in time at provoking such elation from her soulmate.

“No,” Toji chuckled. “Your company is just so much better than theirs, obviously.”

“Obviously?” She teased, feeling a flush of heat grace her cheeks.

He hummed in agreement, “Of course.”

An endearing and shy silence filled the air, and they enjoyed each other’s presence in comfortable tranquility, a paradox to the supposed suffering and agony in the depths of Hell. Toji shifted beside her, lifting his weight from the railing, and cleared his throat.

“Well… I suppose I better take my leave,” he announced softly, taking a few steps backwards from her.

“Might be best, I’m sure your subjects are wondering where you are,” Y/N jested, smiling. Her inner soul was jumping, and she tried her best to ignore it. She knew it wanted him to stay, screaming don’t go in a silent cry through their bond.

Toji’s eyes glittered, a genuine smile quirking his lips as he chuckled lowly, a gesture just for her. “You might just be right.”

He lifted his right hand and snapped his fingers together, conjuring a sizzling portal of flame that opened up behind him in a mesmerizing display. Y/N couldn’t tear her eyes away from him as the warm orange glow of the portal enveloped him, casting him in an ethereal light that illuminated every contour of his face. She felt a pang of longing as he stood there, a transient and fleeting embodiment of sinful allure against the obsidian backdrop of Hell.

“Sleep well, little angel,” Toji mumbled, soft and rumbly, his green eyes almost glowing.

“Goodnight, Toji,” Y/N replied, her voice quaking with all the unspoken feelings of her soul that she couldn’t possibly express in that moment.

He smiled at her and disappeared through the portal, leaving her grasping at the lingering wisps of his presence.

-•-

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sleepyconfusedpotato · 1 year

Text

Take Care of Yourself

After their escape from the Shadow Company's looming hunt for their heads, Ghost, Soap, and Jade headed to the Los Vaqueros safehouse on the outskirts of Las Almas. Soaked by the rain, the Scot needed some help with his wound on his shoulder.

Soap isn't the only one who needed help, though.

Pairing : Simon "Ghost" Riley x Charlotte "Jade" Le Jardin (OC) Word Count : ~ 2700

Warning : Fluff with a slight bit of angst, a touch of hurt/comfort, and good ol' cursings.

Title and story inspired by the song Take Care of Yourself by Maisie Peters

"Soap, where's your wound?" Jade asked the sergeant as she rummaged through her gears. Ghost, Soap, and Jade were standing near the truck they found in front of the church, currently just a kilometer away from Alejandro's safe house on the eastern side of Las Almas. However, now that the Los Vaqueros had been under the Shadow Company's custody, they cannot trust anyone. The three of them were all that they've got.

"Do you have the equipment?" Ghost, who's standing leaning onto the side of the truck asked.

"Here, fuck… I think the adrenaline shot is finally wearing off." His finger pointed at the bloody makeshift bandage on his right shoulder, sitting on the grass with his back on the side of the wheel. Their whole bodies are wet from the rain, but at least the cold helped with the blood clotting.

Jade knelt down to the ground, observing the wound. "That thing served its purpose, you did great, Soap. Now the bullet's still in there, and we need to get it out and sew it in order to let it heal properly."

"Don't worry." The MI6 zipped out a roll of cloth, putting them onto the grass field to reveal a series of stainless steel tools that Soap could tell were definitely not medical tools. "I can make do."

"Wait, Jade. Isn't that…" Soap nervously glanced back and forth to her and her equipment.

"Torture devices, yes. But it doubles as a medical kit for emergency situations, which is now." The woman lifted up a scissor, cutting the bloody bandage from Soap's shoulder, revealing the gunshot wound that Graves had inflicted upon him. Soap hissed as she gently peeled the cloth from his skin while staring at the wound underneath.

"The bleeding has mostly stopped. Now I just need to get it out." She put down the scissor, took her canteen and rinsed the bloody area with water.

"Aww! Aw aw SHIT!!"

"Don't be a baby, Johnny." Ghost retorted from beside him.

"I just got shot, Lt., and it fucking stings like a bitch. Have you ever been shot?" The wounded man grumbled to his superior.

"Many times." He answered, shrugging his shoulders.

"Beanpole, how about you help me get some lights over here? Don't wanna pull out healthy skin." Jade gestured at the masked man. If he wants to be chatty then at least he could help a little.

Ghost knelt down as well, pulling out his flashlight and directing it towards the wound. "Now that's better." Jade finally got a good visual clarity, prompting her to touch the skin surrounding it, and opening them up with her fingers. "Alright, Soap. Get ready. No alcohol unfortunately so grit your teeth real hard."

"Yeah." After the Scot's shaky response, Jade used her forceps to enter the wound, exploring the outsides of the bullet, and took hold of it.

"Got it. Stay still." As she very, very slowly fished out the bullet, Soap closed his eyes and rested his head on the car, a grimace on his face as he tried to hold in the pain. Ghost only watched in silence as he still held the flashlight up.

"Aaand it's out." The bullet is finally out of the wound, leaving a little blood trail running down his shoulder which Jade immediately covered with a gauze.

"Seems intact. You're lucky the bullet didn't burst and broke inside." Ghost reacted to the bullet on the tip of the forceps. "Or it'll be a pain in the arse to find all of them."

"Yeah. All those muscles double as a meat shield I guess." Jade joked as she put the bullet down on the cloth rolls, making Soap let out a broken chuckle.

"All that workout finally pays off."

"It certainly did." The MI6 then used forceps on both hands to carefully stitch the wound. The wound was not that big, so it only required around 3 stitches.

As she rolled the bandages around Soap's arm, Ghost started, "We don't know whether the safe house is empty or not. We're on our own."

The ginger responded, "We are. Anyone who points a gun at us, they're hostile. Can't trust anyone unless…"

"Unless?" Soap noticed her pause.

"Unless someone's still not compromised and corrupted. And if there's one, it's Alejandro." She finally finished rolling the bandages, tidying up her equipment on the floor and putting them back on her gear.

The three of them stood up, led by the lieutenant, "Alright, let's get inside."

***********

After discussing about releasing Alejandro from the Shadows, they were now preparing their gears for the battle that was yet to come. Rodolfo had given them all some Mexican Army rations to fill their empty guts. Hours and hours of running and being hunted by Shadows took their energies out to flat battery. Rudy, Soap, and Jade sat together on the wooden crate inside the warehouse, eating away their meal.

Jade was right, if there's someone who is not corrupted, it's Alejandro, and someone close to him.

Much to their surprise, they found Rodolfo hiding in the darkness of the building. He did point his rifle at Soap, but at least he was still vigilant and didn't take anyone as a friendly considering the dreadful situation at hand. The warehouse was packed full with guns and ammunition in all varieties. It's like a second base for the Los Vaqueros. Surely it's smaller in size than the one Graves and his Shadows occupied at the moment, but it would do.

"Where's the lieutenant?" Rudy started.

"Outside. Probably doesn't want us to see his face." Soap answered as he ate the dried beans.

"Why does he wear that? The first time I saw him in the car, I was truly scared." The Mexican remembered saying that he's afraid of ghosts in Spanish to his superior upon seeing his mask.

"Then the mask served its purpose. It's psychological warfare. The less human you look like, the more fear you can strike upon the enemy" The only woman in the house told them, "Imagine a big, hulking man with a skull face, coming at you in a full on black attire, with a full sets of skills that can end your life in seconds. I would be scared."

Hearing that, Rodolfo sighed, "Glad he's on our side."

"Right. Or probably he just wants to hide his ugly face." Soap retorted, making the three of them chuckle.

As she finished her rations, Jade tidied up the plastic containers before standing up, "I'm gonna check on the beanpole. You guys eat away." She patted both of the man's shoulders, which were replied with nods from both men, before she headed out of the warehouse's wooden door where Ghost had headed ten minutes prior.

As she stepped out in the dark of the night, Jade looked up at the Las Almas sky. This will be a long night.

Got betrayed by Shepherd and The Shadows, Soap got shot, they had to survive a town full of people trying to hunt them, and now after only one hour of downtime, the four of them were about to storm the prison to try freeing Alejandro and the Vaqueros.

Taking on a whole garrison of Shadows in the prison compound with just four people? Sounded suicidal of them indeed, but Jade had seen what these people could do. They're trustworthy.

She's not alone anymore.

She's got people to cover her back.

She had him.

Taking a deep breath, she looked around to find out where the man in black went. She looked side to side to see any big, black shape sitting down, but he's nowhere to be seen.

And so, she started to walk to the side of the warehouse, finally finding the big man sitting down, his back to her. Accompanied by a single lamp above him that barely gave any sort of luminescence, she could see that his mask was lifted up, the skull plate sitting on top of his head, indicating that he's indeed eating.

One thing she realized, though, she could see him a little bit stiff on the left shoulder. What confirmed her suspicion was the fact that he touched his left shoulder, before rolling them very very slowly like it's painful to move.

Guess even the Ghost himself wasn't invincible from a bullet.

"Beanpole." Jade softly called to him. Her feminine voice instantly made the man flinch, but not turn around.

A pause, "Midget. Why are you here?" He said, for once his deep, raspy voice was not muffled by the mask.

"Checkin' up on you. You really do like sitting alone in the dark."

He didn't respond with anything. The woman decided to step forward, making the grass crack. Ghost immediately put his hand on his mask, ready to pull it down to wear it, before Jade stopped him, "It's fine. You can keep eating. I promise I won't do anything." Ghost halted his actions for a good five seconds, before putting his hand down again.

Seeing that he's finally relaxed, Jade closed in on his back slowly to where he sat down on the wooden crate. She could see the back of his neck and a little hint of his hair like this, and of course, there's a tint of blood on the junction between his neck and shoulder, just shy away covered by his black collar that was also ripped apart in the area.

"You're injured." Jade spoke slowly to avoid startling him too much.

"...Just a bullet graze. Bloody shadows."

"May I?" Jade asked, and she could see him contemplating, before he lightly nodded. Upon his confirmation, she lightly pulled away his torn collar, finding blood still running down the grazed wound. It's angry red in color, especially being covered by his clothes and his gear the entire time.

Hearing Jade’s huff, the man inquired, "Is it bad?"

"Bad. Even though Soap had a whole bullet lodged in his shoulder, at least the wound was open to the rain to wash it away. Yours were covered by your collar and plate carrier. Infection will suck." He grumbled in response. He surely thought it was nothing, but it definitely needed some attention.

"You can keep eating while I take care of this. Put off your gears first." Jade spoke to the back of his neck, and seeing that he sighed, it seemed that he didn't mind. Ghost took his gear off, as he tried to lift the plate carrier above his head, Jade could see him struggling to fight the pain on his shoulder and decided to lend a hand. Without a word, Jade helped lift them up. Judging by his groan, it must be a major relief after carrying that much weight on his injured shoulder.

After putting the gear down, she started by pouring some water to a cotton wool, pulling the collar away, revealing that the wound is even longer and deeper than she thought. It’s almost half his trapezius. This definitely required some attention. "I'm gonna clean the wound. This'll sting a little.” As she lightly pressed on the wound, Ghost's neck tensed, but he didn’t make a sound, albeit him grabbing his plastic spoon harder that it might snap.

“It’s supposed to be painful, Beanpole. It’s okay if you make a sound.” Jade said with a low tone, not wanting to surprise him, still going on in cleaning the angry red wound. This man is a hard ass sometimes. “At least Soap’s not here to tell you you’re a baby.” the woman retorted, making Ghost scoff involuntarily as he remembered telling Soap the exact same thing earlier.

“Fine,” He finally relented. “It bloody hurts. The only thing that made it right was that I put a knife on the bastard’s neck.”

“Hmm. And were you planning to let this thing be a secret?” She gestured at the wound she’s currently tending to.

Ghost only sighed, "I was going to take care of it myself."

Jade huffed softly behind him, “If you fell down from fever because it's not treated properly, I’m gonna have trouble hauling you up, Beanpole. You’re huge.”

“I’m not gonna fall.” He denied.

“You will if you let this open wound be, which was your plan, isn’t it.” Jade told him off with a slightly louder voice, stopping her hands from cleaning the wound.

“I’ve been shot many times before, Midget, and I’ll take care of myself just fine.”

“But that was when you were alone, Ghost.” Hearing her call his call sign instead of the bastard nickname quite surprised him.

“I know you can take care of yourself just fine. I know that. I think so about myself too. But we’re a team here.” Jade didn’t even realize that her voice sounded more like a worried mother than a colleague. “You’re our commanding officer, and I know you need to take the lead. All this shite happened on your watch, but despite all of that, I need you to tell me if you’re wounded. I will help. We will help.” Ghost had stopped eating now. She’s talking to the back of his head, but he could totally imagine her worried face. From the tone in her voice, he could also tell that she’s not angry. Concerned would be a better word.

“I’ve been in this thing as long as you, Ghost, and God knows how it fucks someone up, but we’ve got each other now.” She finally got back to cleaning his wound, “You said it yourself just now, ‘no one fights alone’, and that includes this. So don’t fight alone, okay?”

Ghost took a deep breath. He did say that, didn’t he. She used his own words to get back at him.

Not hearing any answer, Jade pressed the cotton with slight pressure onto his wound, prompting him to flinch his shoulder and exclaim in pain, “Ow! What the fuck!?”

“Okay??”

“Okay! Fine, Mum!” Ghost finally yielded. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Jade couldn’t help but to scoff at her new nickname, “Don’t ‘Mum’ me, Ghost. I’m just a concerned friend, that is all.” She retorted, fishing the antibiotic cream from her med kit.

“Oh, so now we’re finally friends?”

“Yes. What, were we enemies? I’m gonna apply some antibiotic cream, your wound is very long. Sheesh.”

“Tell me something I don’t know…” He got back to eating his rations. He didn’t like pep talks, but hers actually alleviated some of his burdens. Knowing that someone’s got his back, that he has someone to rely on, that he didn’t have to do this alone… it somehow comforted him.

As Jade pressed a little of the content out of the tube, she thought about the man who’s having his back on her. Hearing that he’s been through a lot of things like her, deep in her mind, she’s glad that someone understands her. And all that she did was understand him. If Jade was in Ghost’s position, who has a lot of responsibilities and burdens on his shoulders, she’d want that reassurance too. The MI6 started to lightly rub on the wound, taking note of covering the entire area.

“Thanks, for having my back.” He continued, “When I heard Johnny’s coming, I thought I’m gonna need to babysit him for a while. But having you here… It makes things easier for me.”

“...Jade.” his deep voice called to her name, not the bastardized nickname, making her flinch in response.

"hm?"

The woman behind him smiled, “A pleasure, Ghost. Cut off a little slack for yourself, alright? You look like the kind of guy who doesn’t take his own advice.”

A chuckle, “Seems so.”

After a while, Ghost finally finished eating his rations, just as Jade finished closing up his injury with the adhesive plasters.

“Abracadabra, you’re healed~!” The woman covered the wound with her warm palm, touching his skin lightly, before covering the area back up with the collar.

Ghost pulled down his mask, before standing up and turned around to face the woman who patched him up. Lifting her head to see the towering figure, she could see his dark eyes looking back at her.

“Thanks, Midget. I owe you for this one.”

She never heard him speak with such sincerity and tenderness before. She swore if not for the dim lighting, he’d caught her cheek turn as red as her hair.

Well, there’s always a first for everything. “You owe me nothing. Anytime, Beanpole.”

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

“Soap?” Rodolfo called to the man in front of him.

“Hm?”

“Did, uh… Ghost and Jade have something between them?” Hearing the Mexican sergeant’s question, Soap couldn’t help the laughter from his mouth; he had to cover them from spitting his food.

“You see it too, don’t you?” Soap responded with a chuckle, “To answer your question, no, I don’t think they had something. We’ve only known Jade about three years ago, during the conflict for Verdansk.”

“Three years ago?” Rodolfo questioned.

“Yes. The lass were called in by Laswell. She’s fierce, I’ll give her that. However, Ghost wasn’t the kindest person at the time, and there were… trust issues among the group. So he’s the one who started the Midget thingy, and Jade responded fairly by calling Ghost Beanpole.”

The Mexican cooed in acknowledgement, getting back to his rations. “They’re very… compatible together.”

“You’re right on point on that, Hermano.”

------- FIN -------

Hope you loved it! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

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ihavemanyhusbands · 1 year

Text

Mine (18+ ONLY)

DBF!Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Requested by @montyfandomlove and @hausofwhores <3

WC: 1.3k words

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY), DBF!Hotch, Age gap (still placing reader at mid-twenties), p in v, unprotected sex (don't try at home), slightly possessive Hotch, dirty talk, cursing, creampie aaand that's all I can think about rn but lmk if I miss anything!

-----

Your bedroom door creaked a little as it opened. Aaron’s silhouette was barely visible as he slithered into the room and slowly shut the door behind him.

In the dark, you tugged your comforter up to hide your smirk. He probably thought you were asleep, but you’d been expecting him for some time now. Ever since you heard your father telling him he could stay the night, you knew Aaron would sneak into your room at some point.

It was late, just past one AM. The family party had ended just a few hours prior, and the rest of the household had already fallen into a deep, drunken slumber.

Your dad had just gotten a promotion, and he wanted to remain on his boss’s good side. He’d been insisting on introducing you to his boss’s son, and you didn’t really feel like you had a choice.

Of course, nobody knew about you and Aaron, so you had to play pretend. All night, you had to flirt and laugh and chat up some guy you were utterly uninterested in. You even had to dance with him, your bodies much too close together.

Still, there was a bit of perverse pleasure in seeing Aaron’s clenched jaw and darkening gaze. If anything, the only upside to the whole thing was that he was getting jealous, and that he’d be even more possessive later on because of it.

Maybe that was why you’d winked at him from the dancefloor, your hips moving in that way you knew drove him crazy.

You felt the mattress sink behind you as he lay down, his heat engulfing you almost immediately. His fingers tenderly tucked an errand strand of hair behind your ear, and he bent to kiss your neck.

“Wake up, sweetness,” he whispered against your skin, pulling down the comforter to reveal more of you.

“I’m trying to sleep,” you murmured, still smirking.

Your eyes fluttered closed as his lips moved up to your jaw, a wistful sigh escaping you. He hummed in thought, and you tensed as he reached up to your breast, teasing your already-hardened nipple.

“Oh, yeah? Were you dreaming of me?”

“Aaron, please,” you sighed.

“Please what?” He tsked. “Don’t tell me you didn’t think I’d come to stake my claim on you once more. It seems like I have to keep reminding you.”

You bit your lower lip as you felt him slide the strap of your tank top off your shoulder, pushing it further down. He pressed his body flush against yours, his clothed bulge pressed insistently against your ass.

Oh, you didn’t mind his reminders at all, but still, you said, “We have to keep up appearances.”

He grunted, acquiescing to your reasoning just a little, but not happy about it in the slightest.

“I’m gonna kill him, I swear,” he growled close to your ear, nipping on your earlobe.

You feigned ignorance. “Who?”

“All of them. That silly little boy toy you used all night, your dad for even suggesting bringing him here, and that smug boss of his.” He grabbed your hip, grinding hard against you. “You’re mine.”

“But I didn’t–” you began, but he cut you off by sucking on the sensitive skin of your neck, hard enough that you knew he��d leave a mark. “A-Aaron!”

He shifted his hips only to tug down his pants with one hand, while his other hand grabbed your face to bring your lips to his. It was a sloppy, needy kiss, his tongue immediately tangling with yours.

You melted into him, devouring his mouth with equal fervor. You grazed his bottom lip with your teeth, reaching back to try and touch him.

He snaked a hand into your shorts, cupping your aching cunt. He groaned as he felt how wet you already were, deft fingers slipping through your folds.

“Honey, you’re soaked,” he rasped. “You like the idea of being mine, don’t you? You know that nobody else can make this pussy feel half as good as I do.”

You let out a breathy moan at his words, clenching around nothing. This didn’t go unnoticed by him, so he smirked. But before you could shift onto your side to face him, he pulled away.

“Say it for me. I want to hear you say it.”

“You make my pussy feel so fucking good, Aaron. No one can touch me like you do.”

“That’s right, sweetheart. You’re such a good girl for me,” he praised, planting a few more kisses on your lips. “Lie down on your stomach.”

You nodded, immediately obeying. You lifted your hips so he could pull your shorts down, and you felt his fingers probing your slit once more.

“Don’t tease,” you whined.

He tsked in disapproval. “I’m being quite generous. You teased me plenty today, but I just can’t wait to feel you squeezing my cock.”

With that being said, you felt the aforementioned lining up with your entrance, slowly pushing in. You gripped the sheets beneath you tightly, pushing your hips back a little.

You mewled into your pillow as he fully sank in. His hands gripped your hips as he found a rhythm — quick and shallow at first, but then getting longer and deeper. He hit a spot that made you bite down on your fist to keep you from crying out, eyes screwed shut.

“Fuck, so tight…” he grunted. “Does that feel good, baby?”

“S-s-so good, daddy. Please d-don’t stop,” you whimpered.

His grip tightened, and he thrust harder. For a moment, you didn’t even care that the sound of skin slapping against skin was only getting louder.

When you were just beginning to feel that coil in your stomach tightening, he pulled out, making you grunt in frustration.

“On your back,” he urged. “I want to look at your pretty face when I fill you up.”

You flipped over, wrapping your legs around his waist as he settled between them. He wasted no time slipping back into you, his chest pressed against yours.

You raked your fingers through his hair as you brought him down to kiss you. He groaned into your mouth as he found a rhythm once more, and you dug the heels of your feet into his back to try and drive him deeper.

“I’m so close,” you breathed. “Don’t stop, Aaron, please.”

“I can feel it. Think you’ll be able to keep from crying out, sweetheart?”

You nodded quickly, pursing your lips as if to emphasize. He chuckled a little, kissing the tip of your nose.

Then, he pulled back to look down at you, bringing a hand down to stroke your clit in time with his thrusts. Your muscles tensed at the added stimulation, a pitiful whimper in your throat.

His movements became quicker and more erratic as he also neared his release. Your eyes rolled back into your skull as pleasure seized you in its tight grip.

There was a trail of white hot fire down your spine as your back arched off the mattress. You bit down hard on your bottom lip as you finally came, cunt clenching him hard.

Aaron groaned your name as he reached his own orgasm, his cock twitching as he spilled inside of you. He rode it out with a few shallow thrusts before pulling out, collapsing on the bed next to you and pulling you into his arms.

“See? All mine,” he panted, looking down at the mess he’d made.

“All yours,” you assured, tilting your face so you could kiss him.

“Don’t think I’m done with you, though. I’ll clean you up, but I have to make sure you’re thoroughly marked. Can’t have you forgetting any time soon.”

You shivered at his words. You were in for a long night, but you couldn’t find it in you to complain.

-------

#aaron hotchner #dbf!aaron hotchner x reader #dbf!aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #minors dni #ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner smut #ALSO THIS GIF IS SOOO¿?

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writersdrug · 8 months

Text

Ghost x Reader x Konig: I Don't Need You (Ch. 3)

<- Previous - Next ->

Summary: Price has a solution to end the fighting between you and Ghost - permanently.

Chapter Warnings: cursing

Notes: Aaand here's the next chapter. Things are about to get better(?) in the next few. Konig will appear soon, I promise. Ghost will be absent for a bit though. Might write some oneshots for him to keep yall happy in the meantime. But ch. 4 is in the works!!

(Y/N) (M/I) (L/N)

“BONNIE”

D.O.B. 10.22.94 / D.O.S. 10.22.13

Navy Seal, USSF / Sniper / Marksman

-----

Price had knocked on my door this morning, waking me up at an ungodly hour on my day off. “Come to my office at nine hundred. Don’t disappoint me.” He had said. He then walked off, leaving me in the doorway with a rats’ nest head of hair and puffy eyes from crying the night before. I stared into the hallway as I processed his words. Figures… throwing a knife at Ghost wasn’t the smartest thing to do.

I peered out beyond my doorframe, watching as Price stopped in front of Ghost’s door. It creaked open, words were exchanged briefly, and then Price moved on. There was a long pause before Ghost’s door slammed shut, followed by a bang as he punched the wall in his dorm.

What a child…

I looked back in front of me; Soap, whose dorm was adjacent to mine, was poking his head out. He winced mockingly. “Ouch… I think he didn’t like your assassination attempt, lass.” He mimicked me throwing my knife.

I stared at him for a moment, unamused. “Go fuck a donkey, Soap.” I barely caught a glimpse of his pout before I slammed my door shut.

-----

I got there at nine hundred on the dot, my hair still wet from my shower, and for the first time since I had met him, Price was the one who was late. Or rather, held up in his office by someone. But, nonetheless, his streak of punctuality was broken. A bad omen, for sure…

I listened, unintentionally, to the conversation in Price’s office. I heard him speaking with a man I heard called “Jax” – a higher-up, a therapist, someone from the “HR” of the military… I didn’t know who he was. But it appeared he would be deciding how Ghost and I would get reprimanded for the rift we were causing within the team.

“Bonnie?” said the unfamiliar voice. “Like Bonnie and Clyde?” followed by an affirmative grunt from Price. “Why?”

“She’s got looks, she’s small, but she’d blow your head open for the thrill of it. And you’d best believe she never misses, either.”

The unknown man paused, glancing over the file – my file, I could tell – and reading the details. “Sniper, marksman, Navy SEAL…“

Price huffed. “Stealth is her specialty. If her head is in the game, she’s a quick thinker, and an even quicker hitman – she once took out a whole checkpoint on her own. Killed ‘em all in less than a minute n’ a half, never even made a sound.”

The man whistled low in admiration. “How’d you get your hands on her?”

“Military couldn’t handle her attitude,” Price admitted, “but they didn’t want to waste the talent either. Bought her off of them before she could end up in the wrong hands.” He sounded smug.

“Leave it to you to pull an operations team out your ass, Price.”

“If it were that easy I’d have a lot more soldiers, Jax.”

The muffled lull of their conversation continued, and my mind refocused on what I had planned to say to Price. It was never supposed to be this messy. We both made a mistake, and a damn big one. We caused issues for the team, we were only thinking of ourselves… basically, share my side of the story, and admit and own up to it all. It was the truth, after all, as well as the best possible way to come out of Price’s office with my head and my job.

Of course, I’d leave out the part where Ghost insulted me – more than once. Or, where he was the one who started the fight in the hall. I mean, technically I did… but I was trying to right my wrong, he had no reason to go after me. Why did he do that? I suddenly realized that Ghost had been seeking out fights ever since a month ago. At first, we avoided each other, but he was the one who lurked around in places I frequented, just to single me out and argue.

That fucking prick.

The conversation in Price’s office ended, ended, and the door swung open. A tall, burly man stepped out: he looked down at me with scrutiny. I stared back. He chuckled.

I tilted my head up and narrowed my eyes. “Can I fucking help you?”

“I guess we’ll see.” He replied, before walking away with a smirk on his face. I scoffed in disgust just as Price stepped out of the office.

“C’mon in, Bonnie.” He stepped aside and gestured me into the office. I reluctantly stood, stretching my limbs and trying to seem unbothered, and entered. Price closed the door behind us. Feels like I’m a kid again in the principal’s office.

I took a seat in the chair facing his desk and immediately stared at the ground. I was hoping this was just going to be some stern, disciplinary lecture. Don’t let it happen again. Which I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t have lashed out at all, if Ghost hadn’t been pushing every single one of my buttons, when he was the one who created this whole landslide in the first place. Honestly if Ghost had just acted like nothing had ever even happened, like I was trying to do –

“- Bonnie, you with me?” Price said, snapping me back to the present. He was now sitting across from me and waving a hand in my direction.

I cleared my throat, doing a poor job at hiding my anxiety. “Yes sir.”

“Alright then. Let’s talk about it.”

I nodded. “Well, after the job in Mexico, maybe about a year – “

“Oh no, no…” Price cut me off with a shake of his head. “I don’t need a recap. I know everything that the two of you have been up to. The whole damn base does.”

I felt a shameful blush rise into my cheeks. If I had any confidence before walking into Price’s office, it was long gone by now. “Oh…” I mumbled.

“‘Oh’?” Price repeated. “Don’t tell me you actually thought you were goin’ under everyone’s nose, did you?” He tapped his pen on his desk with an irritated look. “Aren’t you supposed to be an ex Navy SEAL, here?”

I stared back at him, unamused and unphased by his comment. “Ok, so we may not have tried that hard to keep it a secret. But it was initially just a casual thing.”

Price nodded as he listened. “Initially… so what did it turn into? Because this – “ he gestured to me with a flourish of his pen, “ – is not from something casual.”

I couldn’t answer him. I averted my eyes to his desk, feeling his eyes burning into mine. Into my soul, trying to bring me to the breaking point. But if there was one thing I was perfect at, it was avoiding. So I let myself burn under his gaze, knowing the storm would eventually pass. One way or another.

Price sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Look, it happens. You throw a bunch of people in a room, deprive them for a few months, and stress them the hell out – they’re bound to make mistakes.”

There was that fucking word again.

“I won’t lie, I’ve been there myself.” Price continued, and I raised a curious eyebrow at him. He ignored it. “And I’m not going to try and prevent it, it’ll only muck things up more. But, when it causes such an issue that my entire team is suffering, something needs to be done. And clearly you and Ghost aren’t reaching any solutions.”

I chewed my lip, leaning my elbows on my knees and anxiously bouncing my knee. I wanted to jump in and tell him my side of the story. I knew for a fact that Price had let Ghost spill his guts on the subject. He always listened to him no matter what. I wanted to explain why I was angry, exactly what Ghost had said and how I had felt – but I know he wouldn’t listen. Not to mention, it would have been extremely personal.

“So, going off of that –“ Price reached across his desk and grabbed a pile of papers, “ – I found a solution for the both of you.”

I sighed. Therapy, workplace relationship, probably anger management for me… Honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he suggested one of us moves to the other side of the barracks –

“That man out there? ‘Jax’. Director of a private military group, just like us.” He flopped the papers on the desk in front of me. I hesitated, looking at Price with confusion, to which he tilted his heads towards the papers. “Take a look.”

I sighed and grabbed the documents. He’s got to be so fucking dramatic, doesn’t he. I scanned the first page: Major August Jax, a very decorated ex-marine. Served two terms, now owns a private military special operations force. Based in Arizona, mostly deals with hostage situations –

“I’m sorry,” I toss the papers back onto the desk. “Why am I reading this?” I asked, my tone a little too angry. It gave away that I knew exactly what Price was thinking, feigning innocence just to push it away a moment longer.

“Jax’s got a good team on his hands.” Price began. He wouldn’t look at me. I leaned forward and glared into his eyes, daring him to look back. Fucking look at me when you throw me out the window, Price.

“He’s always looking for the best soldiers to add to his group. We got wind that he’d been asking around for a marksman. I offered him you.” He paused, noticing the hurt and anger building in my expression. “You’re a good soldier, Bonnie. I would only recommend you to the best team out there. And I might not even have half a mind to do this, if it wasn’t for the situation at hand, between you n’ Ghost.” His face showed compassion, although I felt none of it. It was a façade.

Instead, I felt betrayed. Maybe I did deserve some sort of reprimand for the way I’d been acting, but this felt like a banishment. That’s exactly what it was.

“You’re kicking me off the team?”

Price sighed, facing the dreaded conversation ahead. “This is a reassignment, I’m not- “

“You’re getting rid of me.”

“You’re making this seem much worse than it is.”

“How much did he pay you for me, huh?”

“Bonnie.” Price warned. Watch yourself, now. I was treading awfully close to the edge of the knife here, but I knew he had received some sort of payment or trade for me.

I sank into the back of my chair and huffed, folding my arms over my chest. “So Ghost gets a slap on the wrist. I get sent away.” I looked away from Pierce’s stern gaze and chewed my lip. The anger was quickly boiling over. “Like a fucking dog.”

“Ghost will get his dues.” Price said. “You both were causing issues for the team, now you’re both cleaning your mess up.”

I looked back at Price, taking a moment to glower at him. “Then why does he get to stay?” I said.

Price faltered, searching for the right words. “Ghost is a lieutenant, and he’s an important member of the team.”

I scoffed. “Wow, thanks…”

“- and…” he continued, “… because he’s been a part of this team for so long, he’s essential to it. He’s a leader for the 141, and I’d be ripping the group apart if he was the one goin’.”

“I’m waiting to hear how you somehow avoid insulting me in this next part.” I sent him a glare full of daggers.

“You’re not making this easy, girl.” Price leaned back in his chair. He was unphased by my anger; one of the few who were. “You’re a wild card: you’re a damn good shot, and your wit has gotten our missions through on the better side of things, more than once. But no one outside of our team knows that. You’re good at your game, but you don’t stand out – to the enemy, anyways.”

There was a pause in the conversation as Price let me process his words. They scraped the inside of my mind like burning daggers. Why is this such an easy decision for him to make? Did he decide this last night? Or in the last few days? Looking into Price’s eyes, I felt humiliated. Like I was never as important to him or the team as he made me feel. And it felt heartbreaking, watching his unreadable expression behind his locked fingers.

“Sir, I’m not a fucking baseball card.”

“No, you’re not.” He replied. “But it’s easier for you to move teams. No one knows what you’ve been involved in, because you managed to stay under everyone’s radar. And I salute you for that – it takes a lot of skill.”

His words weren’t convincing. They felt like colorful ribbons tied around a pile of trash. I huffed. “You’re a load of horseshit, you know that?” My anger clouded my judgement as I spoke, forgetting that Price was my superior.

He sighed, seeming to fight some internal war. “Jesus, y/n, I don’t want this anymore than you do. But you know this is how it has to be.”

“Is it?!” I raised my voice (something Price seemed to fully expect, as he remained unbothered). “No – you know what? You’re right.” I got up out of my seat, walking to the far corner of the room, pacing in small circles. “Ship me off to whoever gives you the most money, why don’t you? It’s not like I was a part of the team just as much as he is. But whatever, keep your happy little group together, right? Keep your favorites and to hell with everyone else, huh? I don’t care. I don’t fucking care anymore. I just want to get the fuck away from you all, so maybe you’re onto something, John.”

Price leaned forward in his chair, looking at me with stern eyes. He made it clear that I was dangerously close to crossing a line, if I hadn’t already. “You listen hear and you listen good, alright? We do dirty work in an even dirtier world for people who don’t deserve shit. I run things smoothly by having a team that respects one another. They know they have each other’s backs out there. They work together. You’d best be very careful with what you say about how I operate my team. Now you n’ Ghost have been causing way too much trouble for way too long. It’s been affecting the whole team, and the two of you have been so selfish that you can’t even notice. You in particular have completely lost yourself to your emotions. It’s my job to make sure that my division stays in-tact and on top of their shit. And you bet that the moment I see a flame threatening to burn all that down – I snuff it out. In whichever way gets it done.”

I’d never seen Price so angry before. At least, not with me. Knowing that I had disappointed him – and was currently doing that – felt worse than a bullet to the chest. Price had saved my ass when I was about to be dumped in a military prison; I respected him for that and was forever thankful. So, when I realized how I had just disrespected him, a hint of shame tugged at my mind.

But I forced it down. He was uprooting my entire life from the past ten years and expecting me to ‘take one for the team’. Maybe I hadn’t done as much for everyone as he had done for us, but he said it himself all the time: “Your skills are unmatched.” “We would’ve had a lot more losses without you out there.” “You’re essential for a smooth mission, Bonnie.” The only reason he was doing this was because Ghost had probably talked him up about it. Ghost could really be manipulative when he wanted to… but this still hurt. It still made my blood boil, thinking that Price was so quick to get rid of me, like I was a weed in his garden.

“So that’s it.” I said, defeated, the sting of tears threatening to fall. There was no coming back from this. “I’m out.”

Price nodded, his lips pressed into a tight line. “Afraid so.” He said curtly. He’d had enough of trying to sugarcoat things. I could tell he just wanted me to skip to the acceptance stage and start packing my bags.

I blankly stared at him. I felt my body slump as the realization finally hit. I felt the need to say something, anything, but nothing worth saying came to mind. Instead I looked at Price, sitting behind his desk, hands folded as he watched me process it all. A sudden anger flooded my veins. This is just another transaction for him. He would have done this for any situation. I narrowed my eyes as my mind was brimming with rage.

Price could tell I was getting worked up again. He sighed in annoyance, glancing at the paperwork on his desk. “Look, girl, it’s all said and done. Best you start packing your things tonight, get some sleep before you leave tomorrow.”

Like a weed. Like a thorn in his side. My breaking point had been reached. Crushed. I was back at the bottom of the ladder, where I started out with the 141.

“You know what, sir… “ I leaned over the back of my chair, placing my hands on the arm rests and glowering at Price. “… respectfully- “

“Bonnie-“ he warned, but I didn’t care.

“ -fuck you.” I shoved my finger indignantly in his face, then immediately turned on my heels. I punched open the doors to his office, feeling the buzz of my anger radiate off of me.

Price doesn’t say anything as I storm off. He doesn’t have to. The decision has been made – I could shout and curse and fight all I wanted, but I was being taken off of the team, whether they had to handcuff me and drag me out or not. I felt humiliated realizing that the whole base would be able to guess what happened, and why. I knew that Ghost wouldn’t dare open his mouth about it – but he wouldn’t stop the rumors, either. Price wouldn’t even care.

Fucking push-over. Of course he chooses Ghost. Two peas in a fucking pod, they are.

-----

I didn’t sleep. I had packed everything – my clothes, personal files, knives, and whatever else I cared to call mine – in less than an hour and in three duffel bags, which were now piled by my door. I sat on the edge of my bed and stared at them. My head was empty, unable to process a single thought or emotion. I was spent from my conversation with Price. I didn’t cry after, like I usually did when I fought with Ghost. At least that will be over. I tried to think optimistically, but it was hard. It was hard to think at all. The hours ticked by like minutes as I waited for the dawn to break.

Finally, at seven hundred and nine hours, a knock rapped against the door. I knew who it was. I stood up and swiftly grabbed my bags, opening the door – Jax stood there, a proud smile on his face.

“You said all your goodbyes?” he asked.

“Yep.” I lied. I hadn’t said anything to anyone after leaving Price’s office.

“Great. Let’s get moving, then.” He grabbed one of my bags from me, throwing it over his shoulder. “I’ll give you a hand, young lady.”

Already, I could feel myself hating the reassignment. Already, Jax was treating me like a fragile, sensitive girl. To be fair, the 141 did at first, but they had grown to see me as the skill and potential that I am. An independent soldier. I didn’t want to start over and try to prove myself to a new team. No use crying over it now.

I followed Jax, passing Soap as he stood leaned in his doorway, looking melancholic. I looked back, emotionless. I would miss him. He was one of the only people I would miss at this point, after what had gone down. He was always there to listen, and either offer solutions, or just let me vent. Whichever I needed, he provided. Losing him was going to hurt the most.

But I wasn’t going to let it. I turned my head from him and kept moving.I saw that it looked like Soap wanted to say something. I ignored it.

Beth and Skyline weren’t there. Neither were Gaz or Price. I knew Ghost was somewhere, lurking from the sidelines as I loaded my bags onto a heli. But I didn’t care. I did, but I didn’t let myself look back. If I did I would be in shambles, realizing how much I needed this place and the people here. I felt like a tree being torn out of the ground, roots hanging in the air, searching for a place to ground myself. As long as I didn’t look back, as long as I pushed back the pain and the loneliness, the voice in my head screaming for me to get closure, to say goodbye and get one final look – I would be fine. Or at least, it wouldn’t hurt as much.

I slapped a headset over my ears, sliding into the back of the heli. Jax and an unfamiliar soldier sat in the front as we prepared to take off. “Where are we headed?!” I asked over the deafening sound of the spinning blades. I ignored the sickening feeling of loss that ebbed in the back of my mind.

“Didn’t you read the file from Price?!” Jax turned and looked at me through his dark sun glasses, a smirk resting on his lips. “We’re going to Czech Slovakia!!”

#konig cod #konig x reader #konig smut #konig x reader smut #ghost cod #ghost x reader smut #ghost x reader #ghost smut #call of duty #call of duty x reader #cod mw2

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sof-t2611 · 10 months

Text

Ok but

AU where instead of killing Ganondorf Link frees him from a curse and it turns out gloom is something that possessed him and turned him evil and a little coo coo crazy.

And Link doesn't feel like murdering this guy who looks very confused as if he's awoken from a long slumber...so he explains him what he can and lets him tag along as he searches for a way to free Zelda from her dragon form.

Ganondorf helps Link out in his research because he feels responsible for what happened. If he hadn't been greedy and dug so deep for ancient ruins in search for power he wouldn't have been possessed by the gloom.

So Link and Ganondorf travel together and go on adventures.

Until they find out all sages have to gather and sacrifice their stones and they do and Zelda is back.

Aaand she's also very confused but also ready to go back to her projects for the kingdom.

Looking at Ganondorf makes her uneasy at first but she eventually comes to like him as he's not the same person she met in the past. His personality is completely different and she trusts Link.

A few headcanons to feed you

Ganondorf is an excellent cook

Ganondorf teaches Link how to train a bird of prey

During a trip to the desert Ganondorf brings Link to help retrieve an old stash of rupees he's hidden

Also he commissions custom clothes for Link and himself after teaching Gerudos ancient textile techniques! And these clothes protect from both heat and cold at the same time lol

Riju knows what's up but they decide to just tell everyone Ganondorf is just a chief from the past to avoid chaos

Ganondorf and Link totally start having a thing for each other but they are both conflicted for different reasons and it takes a lot of time before they give in and sleep together while out in a tent somewhere in the middle of nowhere. They swear this will mean nothing and that what they have is casual at most but it turns into a exclusive and committed relationship.

Insert taming a molduga mission here

They both have frequent night terrors so they hold each other in their sleep

Ganondorf is the guy who sits in the morning reading the newspaper with silly little reading glasses

Link gives Ganondorf the big black and red horse because what else is that man going to ride?

Ganondorf mostly travels after Zelda is saved. Sometimes along Zelda and Link, but mostly alone, to see most of the present world.

He eventually accepts to move in Link's house officially...even if they are rarely there. But some of his personal effects are around the house.

#ganondorf #ganlink #totk au

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wannaeatramyeon · 1 year

Note

mooooom! i got a request for youuu~ 💌

-young reader learned taekwondo from hansu, but never got to meet his son. so, she only knew taehoon from hansu's stories and cute photos of him aaand that's how she developed a crush on taehoon. years later, she finally meets him... but her "cute" image of him immediately shattered the moment he opened his mouth; chaos ensues 💀

this scenario has been on my mind for a while now and it makes me giggle to an unhealthy degree that i want an entire fic of it 😭 also if it wasn't obvious, i thirst for hansu content 🥺🫶 tysm in advance 🤧

p.s. i really REALLY love your fics and your writing aaaaaa 🫠 ik i already told you before and but im saying it again hehe hope you have a great day! ilyy~~ 💖💖

My dear lovely baby Rie! I saw this and thought yes, let's drop everything INCLUDING Tears of The Kingdom and write this.

But... I'm sorry, there really isn't much Hansu in this, it's very very Taehoon centric.

One of the best things about fandom is bringing people together and I'm so happy to have met you!

Seong Taehoon x Reader: Strangers to... a Not-Crush

Follow up with Hansu and Taehoon here

You're pretty sure you're in love with this Taehoon.

The first time you heard his name was during your very first Taekwondo lessons, many many years ago

Schedules, circumstances, situtations; all the usual life happenings has stopped you both from actually meeting.

But Hansu waxes lyrical about his son. You must have heard for the hundredth time how he is a spinning prodigy, how he has surpassed Hansu at a similar age, how he will be one of the best. His name destined to be written in the history books.

As Hansu talks about his son with stars in his eyes, you can't help the shine rubbing off on you too.

"Y/N, this is Taehoon."

Your jaw drops. Sure, Hansu has shown you countless pictures. Compared to the real living thing though, the gap is so vast you might as well say he's the least photogenic person alive. That's really saying something, because Taehoon photographs well.

He's one of the prettiest boys you've ever seen.

With his lips and eyes and even his goddamn hair. Are those lashes even for real? And then you notice his stature and his muscles, his rock-solid chest and abs peeking through.

Maybe he's not pretty at all. He's fucking hot.

You jaw drops even further.

Why on earth hasn't Hansu ever shown you a full body picture, he could have at least prepared you. Like a cliche, you feel weak at the knees. You feel light-headed-

Then Taehoon opens his mouth and the illusion shatters. Splinters into a hundred million little pieces. With his next words, you've never felt more pissed off in your life.

"Keep looking pervert, and I'll pluck your eyes out,"

What the fuck is this guy's problem.

For once, the stars align, and you see each other constantly.

You curse the damn stars. You curse Hansu for passing your tutelage to Taehoon. Most of all, you curse Hansu for creating this.

The idea of Taehoon is much better than this... this fucking menace you have to see day in day out.

Taehoon makes you address him as Master. He hits you on the head for stepping out of line (you bite your tongue every goddamn time), he takes no prisoners during your spars together, makes you repeat exercises over and over until you're on all fours and trying not to throw up.

And infuriatingly, he touches you.

Little corrections with his hands, his elbows, his knees, his legs, his foot. "Your stance is shit," he tells you, "your technique is still off," as he taps the offending body parts, mere millimetres out of place. Your cheeks burn every time and your skin is on fire even hours later.

What's worse is your head swims every night with Taekwondo and Taehoon.

Lying in bed, all you can see is him. That antagonising smug smile on his lips. You want to wipe it off his stupidly handsome face.

See if he has any cutting words left when, not if, you beat him in a spar, and you gloat over him, straddling his hips, trapping him between your thighs and you can feel how aroused he is-

Oh.

Shit.

You hug your pillow tighter to your body.

This relevation is a fucking nightmare.

Taehoon reckons your skills are average at best. What he's most impressed with is your dedication and tenacity.

No matter how many times he kicks your ass, you still get back up for more. Regardless of all his nitpicking and corrections with your form, you take onboard his words and listen.

He hasn't missed that it's all through gritted teeth. Still.

He also hasn't missed you blushing and your breath catching in your throat when he touches you.

Nothing not out of necessity, all completely above board. But it's still funny. Messing with you.

Taehoon tells himself he is completely unaffected. People fawn over him all the time, you looking at him with hearts in your eyes is nothing new.

It's just amusing, that's all.

You don't know whether this is heaven or hell.

Taehoon piggybacks you all the way from the studio to the emergency room. You're so close you can almost taste him, see all his faint freckles, the vein in his temple from the exertion and concern.

All this proximity is doing nothing for your crush. Which you are determined to get over, by the way. Because this guy is a goddamn asshole and nothing else.

It was a silly accident, really. You went for an opening when there was none, causing Taehoon to mistime his kick. You collapsed like a sack of shit.

Worried hands check up on you even as his mouth runs.

"It's fine," you say, waving off his concern. When you tried to stand up, your ankle is in no mood to bear any weight.

You go down for a second time.

Taehoon's patience is unexpected. He waits with you until you are seen to.

Conversation is strained, and he doesn't talk much, just giving you wary glances every now and then.

But you fill the silence, telling him little anecdotes from your life and your day. Bridging the gap between Taekwondo and the little pieces that make up the rest of your life.

His lips quirk as you speak. The smiles aren't condescending.

Eventually, when the nurse tells you it's just a simple strain and will heal if you keep off it, Taehoon is the one that nods and asks follow up questions.

At the end of the day, after another piggyback this time to your home, you thank him for his time and he is surprised at your sincerity.

Taehoon doesn't miss you. Definitely not.

The only reason he is at your door with stew and kimchi is because his old man told him to check up on you.

You're not able to attend any lessons while you recover, and Hansu wanted to make sure you're ok. Not Taehoon. Taehoon could not care less. He also did not jump at the chance of seeing you again, so much so that even Hansu gives him a questioning look. Ridiculous.

Why is his palm sweaty? Must just be the heat. Taehoon wipes it on his jeans before knocking twice on your door.

"Come in," you call out, and Taehoon hasn't missed your voice. And he hasn't missed the sight of your face neither.

He doesn't greedily take in the colours of your bedroom, the pictures on your wall, the books on your shelf.

He doesn't memorise your handwriting when he walks past your desk, something that is so uniquely you, like a fingerprint.

And when you give him a shy smile and apologise for the mess, it doesn't affect him.

Nor when you take the proffered food and have a mouthful, Taehoon doesn't soften at this.

The ensuing silence is not comfortable. He doesn't want to stay longer. His fingers don't twitch in your presence, having grown used to casual touches with you.

This song and dance is continued for the next few weeks only because Taehoon is a good son, and an even better teacher.

He needs to check up on the welfare of his student.

And then finally, after too long, when you show up at the studio again, Taehoon's heart absolutely does not soar.

#taehoon seong #taehoon x reader #viral hit #viral hit manhwa #viral hit x reader #viral hit webtoon #viral hit headcanons #how to fight #how to fight manhwa #how to fight webtoon #how to fight headcanons #seong taehoon x reader #seong taehoon #seong taehun #seong taehun x reader #taehun seong #taehun seong x reader #wannaeatramyeon

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oorich4 · 3 months

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I just got bored and decided to redraw my cursed little comic from 2021 :D

aaand here's the original thing :P

(it's not soo different with the new... except it doesn't have "cheri cheri lady" joke :^)

(bonus: something from 2021 too :³)

#osmosis jones #ozzy and drix #ozzy x drix #cursed #shitpost #felt tip #redraw #fanart #digital art

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blossominghunnie · 7 months

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𝐀𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

Pairing: Wonbin x fem!reader

Genre: Angst, suspense, little fluff?

Warning: Cursing, geting scared, mentions of blood

Notes: Anooother Wonbin imagine cause I'm obsessed jsjs.

“I can’t believe we’re here because you accepted that bet with Eunseok.” Wonbin rolled his eyes as he drove to their destination.

“You know I don’t back down from bets, babe.” Y/n responded looking at him, while playing with his fingers. His hand on her left thigh.

“What are you, a frat boy?”

“Considering I’m part of a sorority, almost.” She laughed. He pushed her playfully.

“Haha, you’re so funny.” He laughed sarcastically.

“I know, I know.” The girl smiled.

After three Txt songs they arrived at their stop.

“Aaand we’re here.” Her boyfriend spoke as he parked her blue jeep in front of an old looking mansion. It was black and had fog around it. Not creepy at all.

“Wooo, let’s enter.” Y/n took his hand and skipped towards the place.

“Slow down, baby. The house isn’t going anywhere.” He joked so it didn’t look like he was scared. Which he very much was.

“If you’re scared we can go, Binnie. I don’t care to lose to Eunseok.”

“No, no. It’s okay.” He shook his head.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, don’t worry, my love.” He pulled her closer by the waist and gave her a sweet kiss on the lips.

“Okay, if you don’t like something just tell me. Alright?”

He nodded and the two continued walking.

They climbed the stairs that led to the porch. And tried to open the door but it wouldn’t budge.

“Oh, well. I guess we’ll have to go.”

As if it was planned, the door opened.

“Shit.” Wonbin cursed.

“Come on, pretty boy.”

She looked around, admiring the decadent wallpaper and furniture.

It looked like it had been abandoned for years. The girl wondered what had happened to the owners.

They explored for a while and didn’t find anything out of the ordinary until they walked to the attic, where they found a pentagram on the floor. It appeared to be a part of a satanic ritual, it had been drawn with blood, that looked like it was fresh.

That caused the both of them to shiver.

Then, a loud noise downstairs made her react.

“Baby, maybe we should get out of here.” Wonbin looked at her with a worrisome look on his eyes.

“Yeah, and quickly.”

They ran as fast as they could. Y/n could feel a presence behind, which made her go faster.

She could hear things breaking and at one point, there were things getting thrown at them.

“Oh my god!”

“Duck, Y/n!”

A chair broke in the wall in front.

It felt like an eternity when they reached the front door, opening it quickly and with great force.

They didn’t stop running until they reached the car.

Wonbin turned it on quickly and drove away.

“That wasn’t that bad.” He looked at his girlfriend with a raised eyebrow.

“Don’t look at me like that!” She giggled. “Have I never told you about the time I sneaked into an abandoned arcade with Sohee?”

“No and what’s up with you and abandoned places?” She shrugged.

Wonbin shook his head. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

And with that, they continued their long ride home.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Riize masterlist || Main masterlist

#blossominghunnie #riize #wonbin #park wonbin #wonbin angst #wonbin x fem!reader #wonbin imagine #wonbin riize #wonbin x reader #wonbin imagines #park wonbin x reader #park wonbin imagines #park wonbin x fem!reader #riize imagines #riize angst #riize x fem!reader #riize x reader #riize imagine

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maelstroem-of-love · 4 months

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🔞Minors DNI🔞...I know you want to but I don't wanna have this on my conscience, ok?

Things k/s smut should explore more, because I think it would be fun:

(Brought to you by an asexual dude. Just fun information.)

Spock when he is NOT in pon farr or under the influence of alien horny poison, or de-evolved into his primal self or whatever. I wanna see Spock when he's fully in control of himself! He's done his research and he intends to make his t'h'yla feel good. Cue check-ups in his usual official manner: “do you feel that you are sufficiently stimulated?” “what is the message behind your vocalizations?” “on a scale of one to ten, rate your experience” etc.

Jim being, like, completely unashamed of himself. He's the sluttiest man on the Enterprise and it's the 23rd century, so that's saying something.

On the opposite side, Spock might be very self-conscious: because of his hybrid body having different traits than a normal male vulcan's and/or because he's been taught that pleasure is illogical. Could also add a note of vulcan homophobia to that if it aligns with the author's headcanons. I personally love the idea of Spock justifying sex to himself as being exclusively for Jim (because he's a human and he's allowed to want it) while Spock himself is...performing a service. For the sake of love. And Jim's like ohhh, sure, of course, I can tell you're deeefinitely not enjoying this, uh-uh *pretending that he can't hear Spock's tiny moans*

Also - can you tell this list is mostly about Spock? - more 👏 vulcan 👏 biology 👏. Not just the cock (and honestly no shame on people who prefer him with a plain ol' human weenor. It's fine). Is Spock warm or cold to the touch? Does he sweat? What does he smell like? Can Jim feel his heartbeat when he touches his sides? Are his teeth sharper than a human's? Does he have any special erogenous zones that humans don't? There's SO much room for creativity.

In TOS, I often notice that, although Jim loves his job, he feels burdened by responsibility and inability to show weakness. Sooo...maybe a bit later in the relationship he could have fun being Spock's sub, losing all of his control & being told what to do. Vulcan strength makes this extra good.

Getting into highly specific territory, Spock treating Jim like a science experiment. Figuring out where he's most sensitive, how to make him squeal, how to give him the most satisfaction (or no satisfaction at all). He's got data and stuff, maybe even a tricorder to measure electromagnetic impulses. Jim is very amused by all this.

Finally, and most importantly, have you SEEN Jim's bed???? It's a mystery how Jim himself fits on there, much less how the two of them manage to do anything without tumbling to the floor. They need alternative fucking locations. Over the chess table. Bridge bathroom (everyone curses them). Rawdogging it in the bowling alley after closing hours. Maybe they use their provied accomodations when they're on an away mission - this is especially funny if they're captured and they're trying to escape. “Hold it with the escape plan, Scotty, me and Mr. Spock need to use the luxurious bed that our captors have so generously provided for us...” aaand we've got a whole plot right here.

If you see this, feel free to add more in the tags! Also, if you know some fics that feature these concepts, link them also, I'll check them out.

#spirk #k/s #star trek tos #tos spirk #spirk fanfiction

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cookeybg · 2 months

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Unexpected Cohabitation a JonDami fic

So....my chapters seem to be getting longer. I apologize, but I can't stop myself. Here's chapter 3!

Title: Unexpected Cohabitation

Main Characters: Jonathan Kent and Damian Wayne (some of the others show up too, the list is too long)

Eventual relationship: Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne (my fave)

Stuff to know: No capes, reverse robins, high school AU, no smut, no Brucie Wayne, I know nothing about sports but it will show up, (aaand I think that's it, will add more if it comes up)

[In case you missed it Chapter 1 , Chapter 2]

Part 1 - Chapter 3

Jon had been distracted. The morning had started out hectic. First, Conner had taken forever to get ready and they had to run to the subway in order to get to school on time. Then, it had turned out that he had been placed in the wrong math class so he had to go into the school office and have it changed to proper math class, lucky his schedule stayed the same. Even luckier he now got to see Jay twice everyday, not including club activities every Monday. What had really been the cherry on top was when Jay stopped him after class to give his phone number. Lunch had been full of memes and texts and exasperated glances from Kathy. So, Jon was distracted when he stumbled on what felt like a tree root, his phone flying into the air and him landing on his hands and knees on the dirt floor. Miraculously his glasses stayed on his face if not a bit askew.

“Ow.” Someone groaned behind him. “Sorry!” Jon scrambled up and turned around. His wide blue eyes met glaring green ones. “Tt.” Damian tsked removing Jon’s phone from atop his head. “Do you make it a habit to throw your things at others?” “What? No!” Jon reached out snatching his phone back. “It was an accident!” Damian stared at him unimpressed passing him by without further comment. Jon could feel the heat of embarrassment heating his neck and face. He gripped his phone and cursed his decision on taking the short cut to his art class. He took a deep breath and continued on his way, Damian Wayne was long gone.

Walking into his art class Jon sat across the table from Jay, who waved and smiled at Jon when he entered but was now talking to the girl sitting next him. Jon kept his hands busy by pulling out his art pencils and sketch book he had bought the day before on his way home from school. Jon took discreet glances towards Jay wore a light blue hoodie, it made his pink hair standout and it made him look warm and fluffy. Jon wanted to hug him. “Hello everyone!” Ms. Worle clapped her hands, getting the whole class’s attention. “I have great news today! After many attempts, I was finally able to convince my favorite prodigy to become my T.A.” She clapped her hands again, looking at the door, her white curly hair bouncing in excitement. A loud chatter filled the classroom when Damian Wayne stepped through the door. He glanced around the room, his green gaze locked onto Jon’s blue. The embarrassment from early crawled up Jon’s neck and he quickly looked away. Damian, clearly deciding to pay him no further attention looked back at Ms. Worle, his expression softening. “Ms. Worle, I wouldn’t call myself a prodigy.” Damian said. “Nonsense, please humor this old lady.” Ms. Worle waved away Damian’s words. “You are certainly not old.” Jon wanted to gag, all Damian had to do was kiss the back of the teacher’s hand and the whole charade would be complete. Jon noticed that Jay sat up in interest a small “No way,” escaping his mouth. Jon bit his lip not liking the attention Jay was giving the Wayne. Jay’s sparkling eyes locked unto Jon a wide excited smile graced his face. Jon could feel heat burning his ears, Jay had such a cute smile.

“Jon!” Jay whispered excitedly, leaning forward as far as he could and covering the side of his mouth in an attempt at secrecy. “This is huge! Damian is going to our T.A.!” “I don’t see the big deal…” Jon frowned. Jay looked at him in surprised, he opened his mouth to say something else but Ms. Worle cut him off. “Now, Now, let’s all settle.” Ms. Worle’s face was slightly flushed. “You will be sketching the person sitting across from you and Damian will be assisting all those who need help.” “Try not to make my forehead too big.” Jay teased. “Try not to make my ears too big and we have a deal.” Laughed Jon. It was hard drawing Jay. Every time he looked up at him his heart would race and sometimes their eyes would meet and the butterflies in Jon’s stomach would take flight. It was distracting and difficult to not let his day dreams wander. It didn’t help that Jon wasn’t a very good artist to begin with and kept erasing the same eye he had been trying to draw for the last eight minutes. “Tt.” Jon’s shoulders tensed. When he turned, his nose nearly collided with a brown jaw. He took in a breath of surprise and caught a whiff of something sweet and earthy. Damian’s eyes locked onto his and Jon pulled away slightly, heart pounding in his chest. “May I?” Damian glanced at Jon’s hand. Jon nodded stiffly and watched as Damian’s elegant fingers plucked the pencil out of Jon’s grip, his fingers lightly grazing his. “You need guide lines on the face if you want to make everything symmetrical.” Damian spoke lowly. Jon had to lean in a bit to hear him clearly due to his loud classmates. Jon watched as Damian lightly drew a couple of horizontal lines and a vertical line down the middle. He then started drawing the outline for the second eye. “Drawing is just a series of shapes. Look at Jay’s eyes,” Damian gestured towards Jay and Jon could see that Jay was keenly paying attention to the both of them, “draw a circle for the iris and then fill in the detail like the curve of his eyelid and notice the delicate sweep of his brow.” Damian’s eyes were intense as he pointed out aspects of Jay’s face. Jay fidgeted but did not look away a blush darkened his cheeks and his lips were parted in awe. Jon gripped the table trying not to show any jealousy. “Nothing is a straight line; his soft wavy hair, his lips and the curve of his chin.” Damian paused waiting for Jon’s understanding. “Thanks.” Jon said sulkily. Damian placed the pencil on the sketchbook and moved on. Jon’s back and side prickled uncomfortably in Damian’s absence. Damian helped a couple of girls, they turned red and chattered amongst themselves after he left them. But Jon was paying attention to them, he watched Jay stare after Damian his face slightly red and his gaze determined. Did Jay like that jerk? Was Jon going to lose Jay to Damian? Jon grimaced and looked down at his sketch. Damian’s pencil marks looked light and easily erased. The parts he had drawn as guides looked better than the dark lines Jon had drawn and markedly improved the sketch itself. He sighed and did his best to follow what he had been taught.

After class Jay sidled next to Jon looking behind them at Damian who was speaking with Ms. Worle. He nudged Jon’s shoulder with his own as they left the classroom and Jon got butterflies in his tummy from Jay’s proximity. “You are so lucky that Damian helped you!” Jay tried to whisper but failed. “Yeah, I guess.” Jon tried not to roll his eyes. “He must be pretty good at drawing.” “Pretty good at-“ Jay laughed. “Jon. Damian has won awards for his art.” “So, he’s like actually talented?” Jon asked. Jay stared at him and stopped to type something on his phone. Once he found what he was looking for he showed Jon an article from the Gotham Gazette complete with a picture of a painting. Jay clicked on the picture so that Jon could see it zoomed in. “He won this prestigious art award last year and donated the winnings to charity, since you know, he doesn’t need the money.” Jon took the phone and looked at the painting. It displayed a desert oasis, the palm trees swaying in the breeze seemed to come to life. The sand colored buildings contrasted beautifully with a bright blue sky and green vegetation. In the distance a storm brewed making the birds take flight. The ground closer to the buildings was slightly tinted in a rust colored red. It was beautiful but it somehow made Jon feel as if danger was just around the corner despite the tranquility of the scene. The plaque next to the painting said it was an oil on canvas, titled “Home.” “But, he’s the baseball captain.” Jon said dumfounded. “He’s also been winning art awards since he was a kid. He’s won so many he’s probably lost count.” “How can he be good at so many things? Isn’t he the top of his grade?” “It’s awful, isn’t it?” Jay said smirking. “I can’t wait to interview him!” Jon watched as Jay waved and left him behind. What if his fears were true? If Jay didn’t like Damian now he certainly would after he interviewed him. Kathy was right, Jon needed to confess, ASAP!

I hope you enjoyed! The next chapter is going to be my favorite so I hope you're as excited as I am. XD

#damian wayne #damian al ghul #jon kent #jonathan samuel kent #damian and jon #jondami #high school au #no capes au #supersons #fanfic #fanfiction #first time writing #be gentle #hope you enjoy

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angeart · 8 months

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Could totally do au rambles you say?? Tell me about this forest curse au? 🤲🤲🤲❤️

CURSED FOREST AU!!! yesss <3

i will warn, this might be a long ramble. (edit: it is a VERY long ramble) this is the au me and @stiffyck are insane about. i will also say, this idea was thrown out as a horror au. aaand as such, the most important content warnings are body horror and animal death. please be aware.

it's set in a fantasy setting, and the forest isn't actually cursed. it's the people who come there, each bearing their own unique curse, then choosing to stay there with the others (found family boatem <3)

i'll put the au ramble under the cut here.

It all starts with Scar, who is a necromancer. Now, necromancy is scorned upon, it's a forbidden magic and people hate it. Which then means they hate Scar.

Necromancy works in two ways: one is raising human corpses/skeletons, in which case, Scar would need to focus and consciously manipulate them, like a pupeteer. They do not move on their own. However, animals are a different story. Resurrected animals continue behaving as if they were alive, independent of Scar. They are technically not alive, though. If they get hurt, their bodies will not heal. (Jellie is a resurrected cat. Yes, there's a whole story behind this.)

So, Scar is hated and he has nowhere to go and maybe he raises dead just because he's lonely and desperate to understand himself. Down the line, he gets cursed by someone, and his curse is one of shapeshifting, which might sound cool, but here's the thing: Scar doesn't know. He doesn't know he could willingly change shapes, he doesn't know how to control it, and even if he knew how, it'd be an incredibly painful process. But not shifting isn't an option—the curse, when idle, lashes out. What this means is Scar's bones just randomly snap and break. They do heal quickly enough, but it doesn't take away from the pain of it.

In the end, Scar finds himself settling in a forest. Away from everyone. There's nobody who'd care about him and he's so tired of being hated. So he settles in an isolated forest. And he raises dead animals for company.

Now, enter Grian.

Grian, unlike Scar, has a nature magic. He used to be an animal healer. One day, someone's pet died in his care. Not to the lack of trying—he did everything he could. Still, it wasn't enough, and it didn't matter. On top of his own guilt and grief, Grian got cursed by the pet owner.

The curse causes Grian to randomly pass out/fall asleep. When this happens, his mind gets transferred into a body of a random nearby animal. He gets to be the animal for a bit, but once he wakes up, that animal dies. Every time. There's no way around it. He can't stop himself from passing out, he can't stop himself from controlling the animal, he can't stop them from dying.

Needless to say, he's not having a great time.

He doesn't stay as an animal healer. He can't handle the possibility of hurting the animals he's supposed to take care of on the off chance that he passes out near them. He goes away, but it doesn't matter how far he goes, the curse follows.

That's when he finds Scar's forest.

He stumbles upon Scar reviving an animal, and it startles both of them in different ways. Scar is used to be hated. To be judged. To be hurt. He feels like he needs to hide. Like there'll be backlash, any second now. But... it doesn't come. Instead, Grian looks relieved. He watches Scar do his magic, watches the animal start to move again, and for the first time in a very long time, he feels something akin to hope.

So he stays. He lingers.

This surprises Scar, because nobody ever stays around in this forest. He doesn't even know where Grian is sleeping. There's no place for him to sleep, no other houses, no bed. Does he just, sleep outside?

Scar doesn't know Grian avoids sleep like a plague (he has nightmares), and his "naps" always happen inconveniently (passing out), so yes, at this point, Grian sleeps outside in random places.

One day, Scar comes across Grian sleeping in a meadow in the middle of the day. Oddly, he can't seem to be able to wake him up. Later on, Grian comes to him, holding a bundle of something furry in his hands. He looks wretched.

He presents Scar with the dead animal, asking if he can "fix it".

This is when things properly start. Because even though Scar is confused—why is Grian so upset about this random dead animal, if it doesn't belong to him? What is he even doing here, why has Grian nowhere to go back to?—he's impossibly, desperately drawn to the idea of having someone around. Someone who doesn't hate him.

So he invites Grian to stay.

There's only one house at this point, so they make Grian a bed and they sleep in the same room.

Well, sleep. Grian avoids sleep. (At some point Scar catches on.)

And when Grian does sleep, he has nightmares.

Scar sometimes wakes up screaming too. In pain. When his bones break in the middle of the night.

They're both a mess, okay? But now they have each other there. For tentative comfort. For attempts at softness and safety, even though they still don't know about each other's curse.

They learn eventually, of course. At some point, when Grian feels like maybe Scar won't send him away (he kills animals after all, he's so so scared to admit it), they talk.

Scar doesn't send him away. Grian keeps bringing dead animals to him, and Scar does his best to revive all of them that he can. (This means, over the time, the forest fills with undead animals—random travellers who stumble upon this give the forest its name, the cursed forest, and attach a warning to it.)

Sometimes, Scar can't save Grian's animals. As they don't heal once they're dead—for example, if a bird falls when Grian wakes up, and it breaks its wings? It's more merciful to leave it be. They have a collection of graves like these. Scar carves skulls of the animals into the stone to mark them. Grian sometimes sits there, heart full of apologies and guilt and grief.

I'm going to move on to Mumbo now. And Stiff's idea here is so very interesting! Mumbo is a potion maker. He loves to try things, to tinker, to improve. He likes his craft. But. People don't.

People don't like potion makers. It's seen as a last option. Because the transaction involves trust. Because it's something they don't understand and they can't confirm. They have no way of knowing if the purchased potion actually does what the potion maker claims it does. Does it really heal? Is it a poison? Is it a truth potion? Is it just an overpriced drink that does nothing? Is it something harmful that will force them to come back and buy another potion to fix it?

So people are distrustful of potions. There's no real way to know if what you're getting is what you need. But Mumbo finds them intriguing and it's the one thing he's good at, and he doesn't want to give it up.

Mumbo's curse is hypnotising people, taking control of them in a way where they'll do what he says. It happens when he looks them in the eye. It makes him dizzy.

When Mumbo stumbles upon the forest, he's nervous. He's a travelling potion maker, never welcome anywhere for too long, and there's this scary forest with a terrifying reputation and Mumbo has to pass through.

He's so anxious about it—only to find that two animal-loving idiots live there. And Mumbo pulls himself together and goes to check if they need potions. Fully expecting to be turned away.

They don't turn him away. Scar's bones keep breaking and they could definitely use some potions for easier healing.

It's Grian who begs Mumbo to stay. He begs him to stay for Scar.

And Mumbo stammers an agreement, caught off guard. For the first time in his life, he feels wanted and useful. Appreciated. Trusted, even, on top of that.

They also find use for his hypnotising curse—when Scar's in too much pain, he asks Mumbo to hypnotise him, because it helps numb the pain.

So Mumbo makes his home in a forest that is a little bit weird, a little bit spooky (Scar has a strange sense of humour and leans into the rumours; he decorates the trees with skeletones and bones). But Mumbo figures, he's a little bit weird, too. So maybe that just means he finally fits in somewhere.

Then we have Pearl. Pearl used to be a healer. She helped people when they were hurt or sick, but sometimes she also recognised when people were beyond saving, suggesting "letting them pass on peacefully" (or in other words, "putting them to sleep"). Similar to what happened with Grian, this made some grieving people very unhappy, and led to Pear getting cursed.

Pearl's curse makes her extremely tired, in a way where she can only gain energy from other people. But it causes the other people crash from exhaustion—so she literally puts them to sleep.

She doesn't know how to fix herself or where to go with this. She's aimless, a little bit lost. Alone. Tired. So, so tired from being driven away from everywhere.

Until she reaches the cursed forest. She doesn't expect much. Maybe she'll just pass through. But she is so weary, and she finds houses, and maybe she could rest for a bit?

They find out what she does, and she expects yelling and threats, she expects them to be mad, to tell her to go away and never come back, but— They don't. They don't do any of that.

They look at her, take it in, and they don't send her away.

Instead, Scar begs her to stay. Because Grian needs sleep. Grian needs help sleeping safely. He's been avoiding it, due to the nightmares, but it's edging a limit and Scar is worried about him, and this could help.

So Pearl stays. And she's bewildered and it takes her a while for it all to sink in: that they want her here. That she can maybe help them.

That first nigtht when Scar and Grian spontaneously come over to her, asking if they can take a nap there? She's so startled, because usually people hate that she puts them under, that she can control them and make them pass out like that. But these two just came willingly to her doorstep asking her to do it to them.

She doesn't know what to think that first time.

But they keep coming back.

Later, they make sleepover parties at her house. It's all of them curled up around her, and she's still flabbergasted by the trust, by the way they let her do this.

The fog of exhaustion hanging over her finally starts to relent. And she thinks maybe she can be herself after all. Maybe it's okay to be who she is. Maybe it doesn't actually have to hurt or scare anyone. Maybe she can actually help and be a proper part of this little community they're building here.

Then we have Impulse! Impulse is a devil spawn or a half demon or something like that. He has horns, which gives him away. He's never done anything bad, never intentionally hurt anybody, but being good is not good enough, because people take one look at him and expect him to be evil. So he didn't do anything bad, but he got cursed anyway.

The idea of the curse is to warn people away from him. To "show his true nature" before people have a chance to get tricked. Basically, it distorts the perception of people around him—sort of like hallucinations (auditory, visual, the whole package).

It happens more often than not when Impulse feels strong emotions. It just unfolds in an area around him, and anyone who's near enough gets to experience something personally tailored to their own fears. It's disturbing. It's terrifying. Impulse can't control it.

When he comes to the forest, he doesn't get sent away for what he is (which is the first for him), and he's so scared that they'll send him away because of his curse instead. And it's this building anxiety that actually makes the curse flare out for the first time in the forest.

Impulse scrambles to soothe them, to calm them down, hurriedly explaining through his (and theirs) panic what's happening.

They still don't send him away. They know how it feels to be relentlessly followed by a curse and by hate. They promise him they'll figure it out.

Over time, they mostly learn to recognise where the hallucinations start and end—so that they don't have to always be afraid around him. They also recognise that they happen the most when Impulse is distressed, so whenever things start looking scary, they go and find Impulse to check up on him and make sure that he is okay.

(This is from the discord rambles: imagine them being enveloped in a very dark, disturbing hallucination. and instead of cowering or running away or panicking, they'd search through it, find impulse, and beeline straight to him. gently take hold of him and ask if he is okay. and how can they help)

The hallucinations add a nice flavour to things, because they can trigger other curses—think Scar panicking and breaking a bone, or seeing something and raising a dead creature to defend himself. Think Grian with waking nightmares thrown into the mix. Or him passed out, transformed into a small animal, already defenceless and vulnerable, when everything around him starts distorting into terrifying things.

Also, it's harder to know it's a hallucination when they don't know that Impulse is nearby.

They're still trying to work though it. To be there for each other.

Now, Boatem, right? And this is silly, but listen.

One evening, Impulse tells the others a story about a boat. It's a random silly story. His voice is fond when he says it. Everyone listens intently. (They all like stories.)

Both Grian and Scar like crafting items, and once when they have a sleepless night, they decide to distract themselves with crafting. They think of their new friend, and boom, suddenly a bunch of boats have been made.

They wonder how tall the boats would be if they stacked them on top of each other.

"Would they be taller than Mumbo?"

"Bet."

Others joke that maybe Scar and Grian need a different hobby, because making a pile of boats in the middle of a forest where nobody needds boats is a bit bonkers. (They don't care and make another boat.)

Impulse loves it, because it means they all remembered his story. It's very nice.

Then they all come together to decorate the boats. Grian uses nature magic—flowers and vines and moss. Scar decorates with bones. Mumbo uses his potion skills to stain the wood and make it colourful. Pearl carves into the wood and Impulse draws on it, creating little stories. (Jellie pitches in with her claws and mice offerings.)

====

Now, we do have a lot of different little scenes and ideas for this au. I think one of my favourite ones are the dancing scenes.

Scar used to dance with skeletons when he wanted some comfort. A gentle sway, being held. That kind of thing. But he's also good at dancing overall.

Grian doesn't know how to dance. So Scar teaches him—using a skeleton puppet. Think Grian huffing "When can I dance with you?" and Scar laughing under his breath: "When you stop stepping on the skeleton's feet."

Think of the first time Grian gets his steps right. He beams at Scar and bounces over, all excited, "Now will you dance with me?"

Think of Scar not used to actual soft warm hands on him. Not used to the firmness of human touch, the way it sends sparks across his skin. He's not used to this. It's making his head spin. It's making his knees weak.

Scar, who is expert at dancing, stumbles through his first dance with Grian, helplessly distracted by Grian's touch, by the body under his own hands, by the actual warmth of a living person. By the way it feels to dance with someone who looks back at him, who grins at him, wide and toothy and overjoyed. The way Grian wants to dance with him, not because Scar made him want it. He just does.

Scar has to stop midway through the dance. He feels so overwhelmed.

Grian teases him for stumbling when Scar's the one who's supposed to know how to dance. And Scar admits he doesn't remember the last time he danced with someone actually living.

Grian smiles at him fondly—so gentle and soft—and he suggest they take it down a notch. They can just slow dance.

And that's something Scar used to do with skeletons to self-soothe—he used it for comfort for so long. And now he's being held by Grian. He's no longer alone. There's someone who doesn't shy away from him. Someone willing to hold him gently.

Scar sways with him and he buries in face in Grian's shoulder and sobs as they dance.

===

ANYWAY, that all being said. Art!!

You've probably seen my art of the cursed forest au - with Grian being upset over a dead animal, and Scar coming over to cheer him up. There's little details there—the flowers in Scar's hair were gifted to him by Grian, and they're kept fresh by nature magic. They're made to last. The bone necklace Grian wears is a gift from Scar. He was nervous to give it to him, but death and bones are the only things he knows, so he did it anyway. And Grian wears it happily, and it makes Scar's heart ache—he feels accepted.

Stiffy also made art for this au!! It's Scar dancing with a skeleton and IT'S ABSOLUTELY AMAZING PLEASE GO LOOK AT IT but also before you do, cw bright colours, eye strain. HERE IS THE LINK.

I think that's. Uh. Enough from me for now.

@stiffyck if you want to add anything go ahead <3

#ange answers #ange rambles #cursed forest au #LOOK I KNOW THIS IS INCREDIBLY LONG #BUT I LOVE THIS AU #WE ARE INSANE OVER IT #my beloved #if you have any questions #or are curious about anything #(if anyone even made it this far jxcnbkjkjxbnkcb)#let me know!!#hermitcraft au #boatem au #grian #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #necromancer scar #cursed grian

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skeletinmoss · 2 months

Text

The curse of the Dark Phoenix

Chapter 2: under dark wings

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The bird was big. Easily the biggest bird Roman had ever seen in person.

If it stood at its full height, it probably would reach up to Roman’s hips… If Roman were standing next to it rather than being pinned underneath.

It’s cold, piercing gaze had him terrified, but he also couldn’t help but feel in awe of it’s beauty and power. As Roman met its gaze he got a strange sense that the creature was eyeing him not with aggression. Rather curiosity, caution…

Roman’s heart pounded in his chest. Given the way this creature appeared before them, it could only be one thing.

“A dark Phoenix,” he muttered in disbelieve. Even with the claws pressing into is chest it felt unreal.

“A real phoenix!!!” Patton whisper yelled, barely containing his excitement but not wanting to scare the creature away.

“Astonishing,” the prophetic mage breathed.

It had been a point of debate among them on whether phoenixes were ever real, rare or extinct. And now a real one was sitting on top of Roman.

“But why was it locked in a box?” Logan wondered as he carefully approached to get a better look.

Phoenixes, dark or otherwise, were considered good and pure creatures, with incredible magic and a strong sense of loyalty. There should be no true reason to keep one in a box.

“Maybe the mage was working on getting him out but got interrupted?” their shifting fighter suggested.

“Like maybe all that was left was the chains but something urgent came up and then he disappeared?”

Meanwhile, Roman was still locked in prolonged eye contact with the mythical bird.

“Guys!” Roman hissed finally losing his composure. “That’s a very good question and a valid theory. But can I get a little help? I’m getting a little freaked out here and… Huh?”

With a pensive tilt of its head, the bird jumped off Roman’s chest. Which was a lot better for his ability to breathe. He was still standing over Roman and inspecting him carefully, but now Roman felt he could move. If he dared.

“Can i…Can I get up or…?” he asked the creature feeling a little stupid, but he had moved when Roman said he was freaking out so…

And indeed the bird did a few steps back and let out a cry that Roman felt was meant to be a confirmation. Finally the phoenix looked away, taking in his surroundings.

Roman got up and looked at his friends. Logan’s eyes were sparkling with fascination. “It’s like he can understand us…” he whispered pensively.

“Aw, it’s a smart birdie,” Patton coed adoringly.

They all stood back and observed the bird inspecting the forest surrounding them and then the tower and the garden surrounding it. There was no doubt in their minds that the bird was actively assessing the situation.

“He’ll probably want to go home,” Patton sighed sadly. Roman nodded. That would be understandable. It was a devastating loss of opportunity to learn about him but they couldn’t force him to stay and they could not delay their mission to chase after the creature either.

Maybe if they kept in mind which direction it flew they could go on a search once they succeeded in this quest.

The bird turned back towards them and took each of them in. And then… Roman could almost swear he let out a tired sigh. The type his parents used to make whenever he’d gotten carried away and there was nothing they could do but clean up the mess left behind.

Then the phoenix eyed the tower once more and then, with breath taking force, launched himself in the air and took to the sky. Watching him fly off was a bittersweet delight.

“Aaand, he’s gone,” Patton said, a little saddened as they all were. Chances were they’d never fully understand the why and how of this creature and the box. But at least he was free now…

“Oh no wait!” Patton called out as they realized that the bird halted his ascend near the roof and flapped his wings, creating a gust of wind so strong they heard a window shatter and then he did a loop, flawlessly making his way inside the study.

“He’s going to hurt himself,” Roman gasped.

“Or destroy a clue,” Logan added while following the medic back inside and up the stairs. From the sounds they expected an even bigger mess upon arrival, and that was the case… But also not.

The phoenix had pulled out several scrolls, but none seemed torn. Not only that, but he’d opened several hidden compartments in the floor, the cupboards and the desk.

“Is he trying to be helpful?” Logan wondered as he gathered the selected scrolls and started reading them.

“Oh, such a good boy. Good birdie, smart birdie,” Patton coed.

“Wouldn’t do that Pat,” Roman warned, practically feeling the annoyance radiating off off the creature. “How would he know what we are looking for?” he pointed out inspecting the revealed space in the desk. “We didn’t even mention our mission here.” He found a box with what seemed to be random junk. Dried flowers, pieces of fabric, marbles…

Strange. Mementos of childhood maybe? The arch mage was rumored to be older than some towns… So maybe he kept this here for sentimentality sake? The space was rather big for just this small box… Roman was pretty sure the box the Phoenix had been held in could fit in there as well.

“I think you are right Patton. He must’ve left here in a hurry. I am almost certain I found where he usually stored the box,” Roman mused. If it hadn’t been an emergency, he would have put the box back where it would be safe rather than leaving it in the open.

“These scrolls are written in code or else using a jargon lost to time…” Logan mused, sounding frustrated. “It’ll take a while to decipher them in either case. But from what I can gather this was still a work in progress. The last thing he was working on before disappearing. Somehow the phoenix has selected the most recent scrolls out of boxes and boxes of them,” he pointed out, glancing at the bird in question in awe.

“We gotta figure out what to call him if he’s sticking around,” Roman noted.

The bird let out a cry that seemed to agree.

“Tiny?” Patton giggled, letting out a yelp when the Phoenix jumped in front of him and spread his wings in a very clear “fuck off” gesture.

“He doesn’t approve,” Roman translated, just in case.

“Oh, sorry birdie, didn’t mean to upset you,” Patton offered still kinda in that baby voice.

“I’m telling you Pat, I don’t think he appreciates the baby talk,” Roman insisted.

“Besides a pet name sounds… A bit beneath him?” he pondered.

The way the bird straightened himself made Roman feel like he was on the right track.

“Then maybe a human name. As he seems to have close to human intelligence, maybe Vincent?” Logan offered.

The phoenix cocked his head.

“Better but not quite… Maybe something cool… Like Reaper, or Midnight, or Storm… Oh,” Roman looked down at the phoenix who’s interest seemed piqued.

“You want us to call you Storm?” Roman asked.

The Phoenix, or rather Storm, let out a confirming cry.

“Well, okay then Storm. Thank you for helping us out. Not sure how you knew what we were doing here. But it probably would’ve taken us a lot longer to find all those compartments on our own,” Roman said.

“Do you think he used to belong to the mage and that’s why he knows his way around?” Patton suggested.

Roman didn’t even need to look at Storm to figure the answer to that. “I don’t think he’s the domesticated pet kind of Phoenix Patton,” he stated.

“You seem exceptionally good at interpreting Storm,” Logan pointed out. “From where I’m standing he looks mostly… Grumpy and annoyed. No offense,” he offered sincerely.

Roman didn’t immediately have an answer for that. He knew that it wasn’t just him interpreting body language. It was more like he could almost feel the emotions radiate off of Storm. Not constantly. Mostly when Storm was trying to make something clear… Was this an imprint thing? Like baby ducks thinking the first living thing they see is their mother? Had Storm chosen him as his ally just because he was the first he saw? That didn’t sound quite right. He hadn’t trusted him when he first appeared. He’d taken his time inspecting him before deciding Roman was safe to be around.

“Storm, no! Let Roman at least make sure these are safe to eat,” Patton scolded, pulling Roman’s attention from his musings and towards the present where Patton was keeping a box away from Storm.

“Ah yes. I’d imagine he would be hungry after being reborn,” Logan mused.

Roman approached Patton and Storm. “The tower has been abandoned for a while Storm. Whatever you found is probably long spoiled. I wouldn’t use any of these herbs even for the simplest of spells,” he offered as he took a look at the Box Patton had retrieved from one of the floor hiding spots.

There were already a few boxes with amulets of all kinds in them. One with old letters, those should probably be left alone unless Logan’s magic deemed them essential.

And the one Storm was so interested in that contained…

Roman paled. “What’s wrong Ro?” Patton wondered.

“These are all level 5 or higher,” the herbologist explained. Logan and Patton froze. You didn’t need to be especially well studied to know that only level 1 and 2 herbs were considered safe to use. Level 3 existed in a grey area. 4 ran a definite risk of lasting damage and form then on the risk only got more severe. Ashes were an 8 by example, the highest category. Protocol advised against even touching the stuff. And considering how easily Storm’s ashes had reacted to Roman’s magic without him even meaning to that was a wise decision.

Roman closed the box carefully and put it down. Nudging Storm away. He really wanted to get to that box. “Those are not going to be good for you Storm, trust me on this,” he pleaded.

Storm looked at him and again, Roman felt like if the creature could sigh he would. It was more an ‘I think this is stupid but if it makes you feel better fine’ sort of sigh.

“Thank you,” Roman said relieved.

“Ahm, Ro, I’m a little scared to open the last box now…” Patton admitted showing him another box that looked identical to the one with the extremely restricted herbs in.

Roman took the box and opened it, relaxing instantly. He’d been sort of ready to find a fossil or something intense like that.

“This seems to be ah… More recreational in nature,” he informed the others as he closed the box again.

“Oh,” Patton said, a little embarrassed that he made a big deal over nothing.

“Why are there still high level herbs in here?” Logan wondered concerned. “Surely the arch mage knew better than to keep them around.”

They all thought on that. “High level ingredients still hold a lot of power… He might have been holding on to them in case something big came up.

A last resort…” Roman suggested.

Storm screeched unimpressed by the gravity they put on the situation. Intelligent or not, Roman didn’t suppose he could expect a bird to really understand these kind of things. A plant was likely a plant to them. Or maybe a phoenix had nothing to fear from high level plants. Maybe to them it was just food… Speaking off.

“You know. I think Storm isn’t the only one who should eat. Let’s settled down for a minute, have dinner and then we can start on trying to see if we can find a lead today.

We are to touch base with the consulate at sunrise tomorrow and as cool as ‘we found a phoenix’ would be… I think we better focus on the mission we came here for,” Roman surmised.

His friends agreed and together they settled on the floor, all sharing a bit of their provisions with Storm who chirped in the most pleasant way he’d done all day. It would seem he appreciated the food.

Once they were done eating, they all went back to work. Storm had been a great help but they should double check to make sure nothing was missed. Roman was trying to get something shiny that was stuck under the desk when he noticed Storm was sticking by his side, observing him.

“You really have no were better to be huh? I’d think you’d want to get back to wherever you are from as soon as possible,” he mused as he finally got his hand on the cool round thing that had been evading him for an annoying amount of time.

He sat back up and looked at the phoenix. “You know… It’s kind of special to me to meet a phoenix. Not just because you are rare. I have… A connection with your kin, so to speak,” Roman tried to explain. And while he didn’t think he was doing a good job, he felt as though Storm understood him just the same.

Suddenly Storm perked up and looked at the destroyed window.

“The sun is setting,” Roman noticed, wondering why that had Storm’s attention. Maybe due to its coloring it was safer for him to fly at night… Was that what he’d been waiting for?

Roman felt a little disappointed. He still didn’t know for certain what this strange connection was he felt with Storm, and if the creature left, he might never know.

Still he wasn’t going to keep him here if he had other places to be.

Storm hopped himself over to the desk, flew up to the window, let out a cry -that strangely didn’t feel like ‘goodbye’ but ‘be right back’, and then flew out. Maybe he was going hunting? Roman supposed no one knew for sure what a Phoenix would eat and Storm was a very big bird so he might need something more filling than the nuts and fruits he’d accepted from them earlier.

“Aw, did Storm go home after all?” Patton said disappointedly.

“I think he might have gone hunting…” Roman offered.

“I would be more skeptical but you haven’t been proven wrong in your translations yet,” Logan allowed… Reluctantly?

“Logan, are you jealous?” Roman teased, laughing as his friend flushed.

“No!” the bookish mage insisted.

Roman just laughed and went back to studying the little round stone. There were inscriptions in it he wasn’t familiar with, but he had that feeling where a word was at the tip of your tongue. As his fingers caressed the stone he familiarized himself with the composition of the stone the way nature had beat against it. It had come from a beach somewhere, it had been taken from it’s home a long time ago, 80 years maybe? The engravings dated back to that time too.

There was magic in it, obviously. Old magic, it felt impatient, from disuse maybe…

Suddenly Roman was pulled out of his musings by a chocked gasp from Patton. It had gotten dark but outside something was glowing.

Roman got up and rushed to the window.

Storm was sitting in the grass, looking up at the rising moon. The silver light somehow reflecting on his feathers in shades of teal and purple.

Storm spread his wings and a mix of shadows and light swirled around him. It was mesmerizing yet terrifying.

Logan and Patton stared at the display along with Roman, unsure what to do.

The mass of shadows and light started to take some kind of shape and to the trio’s shock, turned towards them.

Before they could react in any way the half formed mass moved. It was at the top of the tower in an instance and rushed past them, leaving them all shaken by the feeling of so much uncontained magic moving past them.

As they stood there frozen in shock, a light shone from the room behind them and a deep, hoarse voice spoke.

“Hello there.”

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #ts virgil #roman sanders #ts roman #prinxiety #logan sanders #ts logan #patton sanders #ts patton #the dark phoenix au

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