#although he did say he doesn't like violence so who knows

[iris-drawing-stuff]

Just Shidou

[awearywritersworld]

she mumbled that i was peculiar

sukuna x reader summary: impressively, sukuna is still trying to find ways to deny his feelings for you. nevertheless, he keeps you safe from harm when a late night trip to the store doesn't go as planned. will seeing his violent nature for yourself change the way you feel about him? he seems to think so. w/c: 4.2k (oops) tags/warnings: angst to fluff. attempted kidnapping. canon typical violence. depictions of blood. reader throws up. reader is in shock for a bit. cursing. aged up!yuuji. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. *please mind the warnings for this chapter* a/n: i'm sorry this took so long! im ngl, i struggled quite a bit to write this chapter. i'm still unsure about the pacing, but here it is anyway. thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy! series masterlist // masterlist

it's not often that you go out for the evening, but tonight is one such occasion. you leave around seven, excited to meet nobara and maki for dinner.

when yuuji falls asleep a few hours later, sukuna doesn't take over right away. he spends a while in his domain, engaging in what some people might call sulking.

before long, however, he begins to feel restless and he tells himself it's because he's grown accustomed to his finite hours of freedom. of course, it has nothing to do with your absence.

so he assumes control of his vessel's body and pulls a short novel from your bookshelf. settling on the couch, his fingertips brush over the cover: the stranger by albert camus

it's the first time he's ever been alone in your apartment, a fact he's well aware of, and his eyes wander to the front door. it'd be all too easy to pull it open, to make his way downstairs and out onto the street.

how long would it last before yuuji regained control? are you nearby? would you get caught up in the havoc he'd doubtlessly wreak?

the thought makes him grimace. returning his focus to the book in his hands, time seems to pass by faster as he makes his way through the pages.

even so, he deems the narrative a bit boring. in his (what's the opposite of humble?) opinion, dead mothers and nagging girlfriends don't make for the most captivating story, so his mind begins to wander once he happens upon the quote:

"so why marry me, then?" she said. i explained to her that it didn't really matter and that if she wanted to, we could get married. besides, she was the one who was doing the asking and all i was saying was yes. then she pointed out that marriage was a serious thing. i said, "no." she stopped talking for a minute and looked at me without saying anything. then she spoke. she just wanted to know if i would have accepted the same proposal from another woman, with whom I was involved in the same way. i said, "sure." then she said she wondered if she loved me, and there was no way i could know about that. after another moment's silence, she mumbled that i was peculiar, that that was probably why she loved me but that one day i might disgust her for the same reason.

sukuna thinks about you— the woman who forced her way into his solitude.

although, what if it hadn't been you? what if the brat had been involved with another woman? would he have eventually taken an interest in her too?

are you really that special, or is he just going crazy inside the cage that is itadori yuuji? the latter is much more likely, right?

he supposes he prefers the idea of madness over... feelings for some human.

all of a sudden, your apartment door seems much more inviting. would it be so bad if he were to step through it? what did he really have to lose?

yeah, that's right. he'll get up any second now and act on every horrible impulse he's been repressing. any second now... any second...

he can't quite figure out why he's unable to bring his limbs to move, weighed down by some force that's beyond him.

it's at that moment the door clicks open and for a split second, he thinks it must be his sign to go, but then you come waltzing in.

"'kuna!" you greet in an excited manner, disrupting the peaceful quiet.

kicking off your shoes haphazardly, you make your way over to him and promptly drop yourself into his lap. it elicits a bout of unwelcome clarity for the king of curses.

no, he wouldn't have taken an interest in just anyone, that much becomes obvious. it wasn't through a medium as flawed as chance that he came to... tolerate you. you're much too annoying for that to be the case.

"hello???" you wave your hand in front of his face. "i'm home."

"i can see that."

"welcome home, darling," you say in a deep voice, a poor imitation of him. "i missed you so much— that's what you're supposed to say."

yeah, definitely too annoying.

"but i didn't miss you." one of his hands comes to rest on your thigh, a betrayal of his preceding assertion.

"you're sitting alone reading—" you pause to inspect the book lying open beside him. "existential fiction about a nihilistic frenchman. of course you missed me."

he changes the topic rather swiftly. "you're drunk."

"i'm tipsy, at best." you roll your eyes. "can't i just be happy to see you?"

"you'd be the first."

"i don't mind making history."

you place a kiss on his lips, casual and affectionate in way that makes sukuna's body stiffen, and stand up.

"i need to get ready for bed, then we're gonna watch tv together because i missed you— gosh, see how easy that was?"

you run off to the bathroom and his body doesn't fully relax until he hears the shower turn on.

the thought of missing someone is a strange notion to him, because it implies eagerness and desire. for as long as he cares to remember, those emotions have been reserved for proclivities much more sinister.

so he hadn't missed you. he just would have preferred it if you stayed home. that's all.

when you return to the living room around fifteen minutes later, you're wearing one of yuuji's shirts, and as far as sukuna can tell, very little otherwise.

making yourself comfortable on the floor between his legs, you pass a hair tie behind you. "can you braid my hair?"

he's watched you get ready for bed enough times that he's fairly certain he can manage it. taking the tie from you, he still asks "why can't you do it?"

"because i'm sleepy," you frown, reaching for the tv remote.

gathering your hair in his hands and carefully dividing it into sections, he sighs. "you require so much looking after."

"you're not going to die if you can't have cookies tonight." sukuna states dryly, glancing at the clock that reads eleven o'clock.

"please don't trivialize my struggle," you begin, pulling on your jacket. "i want miso butter cookies— my grandma's secret recipe."

most of what you need can be found in the kitchen, but a trip to the store is in order for a few final ingredients.

"my mistake," he huffs, rising to his feet. "how insensitive of me."

"oh, it's alright. just don't let it happen again."

"sure. i'll keep that in mind, princess." sliding the apartment door's chain lock off the track, he does little to hide the vexation in his tone.

just as he reaches for the handle, you stop him and wrap a scarf around his neck, forcing a hoodie into his hands. "put this on. you'll be cold."

he looks at you as if you're crazy. "i don't have to worry about things as insignificant as the weather."

"well, put it on anyway," you insist.

he decides that acquiescing will be easier than arguing for the next five minutes and slips the hoodie over head. when you both step out into the chilly air of night, there are still a decent number of people traveling the streets.

stopping at a crosswalk the next block over, you begin to prattle on about what you need to pick up and the different steps in your recipe. naturally, you completely miss it when the pedestrian sign turns green.

"come on," sukuna commands, his hand wrapping around your wrist and tugging you along with him. "i don't have all night."

you scoff. "to be fair, i didn't say you had to come with me."

"yeah well it's late. you shouldn't be out alone." there's a hint of exasperation in his voice, like he truly had no choice in the matter.

despite that, once you reach the other side of the street, his fingers slide down your palm and thread through yours.

you glance over at him and find he's looking off to the side, so you bite your lip to suppress your pleased smile. is he avoiding your gaze intentionally? you decide that bashfulness suits him better than you would have expected.

offering him a light squeeze of the hand, you hope it conveys your appreciation of his small display of affection.

"so, are you going to help me make the cookies?"

his lips press into a thin line. "as thrilling as that seems, i don't particularly have a penchant for baking."

"you think you'd humor me a little! you know, since i'm your only friend and all."

"if anyone else asked me such a ridiculous question, they wouldn't live to see tomorrow." you ponder whether he's joking and quickly decide that he isn't. "this is me humoring you."

"you're so mean to me."

"hardly."

"fine," you pout. "then you can't have any!"

"now, hold on." the threat does make him hesitate. you've come to learn that if there's one thing he loves as much as reading, it's food. "let's not be hasty."

you're approaching the store, the sliding doors just a few strides away.

"it's only fair! besides, you're not going to die if you can't have cookies," you throw his earlier words in his face.

he exhales deeply. "have i ever told you how irritating you are?"

"woah! now you're definitely not getting any, mister!"

"alright, alright," he groans as you step inside. "i'll help you bake your stupid cookies."

"perfect!" you exclaim as if you knew he'd give in eventually (you did). "then you can start by finding the miso paste while i get everything else!"

you scamper off before he can tell you not to order him around like some common servant. he's never even been grocery shopping, how the hell is he supposed to find anything in here?

wandering the aisles, he stews over how domestic this is. for god's sake— the king of curses, shopping for ingredients and making baked goods. what have you reduced him to?

just as he considers giving up, he spots the item he's looking for and grabs it so aggressively that it knocks a few packets of instant miso soup to the floor. wrinkling his nose in distaste for the entire experience, he sets off looking for you, though his efforts are to no avail.

he wonders where the hell you could have gone off to when a flickering light catches his eye, filling him with a strange sort of unease.

it's emanating from a narrow hallway tucked away in the back corner of the store. at the very edge of the hall, a phone with a familiar case is lying on the floor, the screen shattered.

his blood runs cold, a sensation that is fully unknown to him, and the miso paste slips from his fingers. he appears in the hallway the very next second and the sight that greets him ignites a furious hostility in the center of his being— heavy and consuming.

you're struggling against one man as he drags you out of the backdoor and into an alley. another man is holding the door open, urging his partner to hurry up.

the hand over your mouth keeps you from yelling, but you're unsure you would have been able to make a sound regardless.

one second you're cast into darkness, and the next, the light seems blinding. the flashing is unceasing and it makes your head hurt.

two limbs are wrapped around your torso, keeping you firmly in place, and your arms are trapped at your sides. you might be kicking your legs, but they may just be dragging along too. you really can't be sure.

there's a thrum of a heartbeat at your back. it's pace is unforgiving, the intensity mirroring that of your own. you've a vague concern that your heart may very well beat right out of your chest.

then there's an abrupt shift in the air and a sickening crack echoes through out the night. crumpling onto the concrete, you think it must have started raining before you realize that the droplets on your face are warm.

you wipe at your cheek and your fingers stain crimson, the color matching that of an increasingly large puddle seeping across the pavement beside you.

there's a heap lying a few feet away and you recognize that it's wearing clothes. it's a sight you struggle to make sense of.

needing to focus on something else, your eyes find sukuna and the expression he's wearing is fierce and unreserved. "tell me what you wanted with her."

you've never heard him speak in such a way. his tone is low, his cadence nothing short of threatening.

"s-s'kuna?" your own voice sounds foreign to you and it goes unheard by him.

he has your attacker pressed against the brick wall of the alley, both hands wrapped around his throat. he's too livid to realize the pressure on his windpipe is preventing him from answering.

sukuna throws him to the other side of the alleyway out of frustration, the man rolling onto his back and wheezing to appease his lungs.

"tell me!" sukuna commands again, louder this time. less collected.

the man scrambles away from his looming figure. "th-they sent us, told us they needed her for an important matter."

"who?"

"they'll kill me if i tell you—"

sukuna crouches down, laughing dryly. "and what do you suppose i'm going to do?"

his eyes are almost unrecognizable to you. they're frenzied— a few shades deeper than the scarlet you've grown so fond of.

"you'll k-kill me either way, so at least i'll die with honor—"

"tch. useless." sukuna waves his hand, and you can hardly comprehend what happens right in front of you.

neat red lines appear across the man's body, then it ruptures into nothing at all. the only evidence that he was ever there in the first place is his blood.

the stench of which is perhaps the worst part— intense, coppery, and hot. it makes your eyes water, and before you know it, you're hunched over and emptying the contents of your stomach onto the ground.

sukuna is at your side in an instant, pulling your hair away from your face, but while one of your hands is braced against the concrete, the other endeavors to push him away.

his body doesn't budge at the contact, but he takes a step back anyway in an attempt to respect your wishes.

your mind is a mess filled with racing thoughts— what the fuck? this cannot be happening. what the hell even happened in this first place? that man was there and then he wasn't.

inhaling sharply, you wipe at your mouth and shift to pull your knees to your chest.

"what..." you trail off, surveying the unutterable, incomprehensible scene before you. "what did you do?"

he doesn't respond, though his features noticeably soften. somewhere in the back of your mind, you know very well what he did, but you can't help repeating. "what did you do?"

"we need to leave." it's not that sukuna couldn't handle whoever might show up, but seeing as this is your reaction, he has no desire to. "if you let me touch you, i can take us home."

you take a moment to think about it, then nod wordlessly. as soon as his hand falls on your shoulder, you're met with that same sensation you felt the night gojo teleported you and yuuji home after one too many drinks.

though this time, the sick feeling in your stomach isn't caused by liquor. you don't stand up, you don't so much as move a muscle when you feel the surface beneath you shift from concrete to carpet.

sukuna breathes out your name, his uncertainty evidenced by the way he's shoved his hands into his pockets. meeting his eye, you reiterate the same inquiry once more. "what did you do?"

it's almost as if you want him to tell you that he didn't do anything. that the whole experience was some disturbing nightmare.

"those men would have hurt you."

"that doesn't mean they deserved to die." you choke on the final word.

"yes— it does."

with that, silence hangs in the air like a suffocating miasma.

looking to your hands, you're reminded of the blood you've been spattered with. "i need to wash up."

you still don't move from your spot, too fixated on your flesh and the dreadful hue that it's been painted with. sukuna notices now that you're trembling.

he approaches you hesitantly before extending his hand. "let me help you."

you decline his offer, shying away from him. "i think you've done enough already."

god, the look in your eye is utterly despondent. he struggles to swallow the lump that forms in his throat.

his arm falls limply to his side and he looks across the room, your copy of the stranger earning his attention.

he's overcome with chagrin when he realizes that his concern brought about by camus' quote the other night was wholly misguided. he'd been focused on his own feelings, whether they were genuine or simply wrought by his isolation.

how foolish was he to ever question what you truly mean to him? with the anguish that's settled in his chest at the sight of your current state, the fact he ever doubted it makes him feel like a hopeless idiot.

had he any sense at all, the part that resonated with him would have been—

she mumbled that i was peculiar, that that was probably why she loved me but that one day i might disgust her for the same reason.

disgust. is that what you're feeling now? he's certain it is.

it was just last week that he relayed the story of his past. you're the only person alive to know the truth of how his wickedness came to be, and you met him with unconditional sympathy and understanding.

you pulled him close and embraced him, but now that you've seen him for what he truly is...? you can barely stand to touch him and it's like a knife to his heart.

you're so fucking warm— like the sun against his skin after weeks of endless rain.

and if you're the sun, surely he is the moon— cold and barren on his own, but brilliant when in the presence of your light.

to be without that? to be without you? it's a prospect too terrible for him to bear. it makes his stomach twist miserably.

you're startled (as is he) when his form falls to the floor, his knees meeting the carpet with a dull thud. he calls out your name again, but this time, his voice cracks as he speaks. "please."

he doesn't have a clue what he's even asking for. a chance to explain? forgiveness? a way to turn back time?

you don't say anything, but you do shift your gaze to him. he knows that he needs to fix this, so he wracks his mind for the right words.

"i didn't enjoy killing those men." he's somewhat surprised to find he's telling the truth.

"you didn't?" your voice is so small and timid that he can hardly decipher your words.

"no. my only concern was to keep you safe— to make sure they never put their hands on you ever again. all i felt was rage and... and... guilt. i should have never left you alone and it's my fault—"

"stop," you interrupt him.

there are tears welling in your eyes, making it difficult for sukuna to breathe. he's positive you're going to tell him that his intentions were of little consequence and that you never want to see him ever again.

instead, you push yourself forward and collapse against his body, your own wracked with violent sobs. the reality of the situation is only just now hitting you. it'd been much easier to focus on what sukuna had done, rather than what almost happened to you.

"i was so scared, 'kuna."

and still, despite the way you're clinging to his shirt and burying your face in chest, he's under the impression that it's him you were afraid of.

"i'm sorry," he tells you earnestly. "i never meant to frighten you."

"n-not of you. those men." you're struggling to speak in between desperate gasps. "why did they do that? what did they want with me?"

"i don't know." though, he is going to find out.

sukuna is not a man well versed in comfort, so he's not entirely sure why he begins rocking you back and forth, but he does it anyway.

when you finally start to breathe a little easier, he mumbles into your hair, "come on. let's get you cleaned up."

he doesn't give you a chance to respond before he scoops you up in his arms and carries you to the bathroom. setting you down on the counter gently, he searches the linen closet for a cloth.

it's quiet, save for your intermittent sniffling, as he runs it under warm water and wrings it out. his free hand moves to rest against the side of your neck and he dabs at the blood on your face, rinsing the washcloth every now and then.

he tries his best not to show it, but sukuna is agonizing over what might be going through your mind.

do you still feel safe with him? have your feelings changed? do you still love him, even when you've been so harshly reminded what he's capable of?

when you speak for the first time your words are hoarse, barely above a whisper. "thank you for saving me, sukuna."

he thinks about telling you not to thank him, not when it shouldn't have happened in the first place. he left your side, an error in judgement he'll never forgive himself for.

he considers your mortality— your weakness— in relation to his feelings for you. he's always seen this exceptionally human quality as despicable.

but now? all it does is terrify him.

"in the past, i was only concerned with my own whims and desires." his hand moves to cradle your face, his thumb running over your cheekbone. "though after tonight... you have to know..."

it's clear that he's struggling. his eyebrows draw together and his mouth twitches as he ponders his next words.

"i care about you, angel." his voice is hushed when he adds, "very much."

your eyes widen briefly and you murmur his name, but your mind is still reeling from the events of the past twenty minutes and you can't think of anything more to say. you're emotionally exhausted in a way you would have never thought possible.

it's plain to him too, so he knows his next question is selfish, but he can't go on without knowing. "does what you saw tonight change things between us?"

the silence preceding your answer seems to stretch on forever.

"i thought it would," you confess eventually. it was as if you'd put up a wall in your mind separating sukuna the king of curses from sukuna the man you spend your evenings with.

and it's difficult to reconcile the fact that the hands you saw used to murder two men are the same hands that are caressing your face so delicately.

at some point, however, you realized that the only time you felt fear tonight was when you were without him. his arrival and ensuing actions inspired shock and apprehension, though in some twisted way, you knew it meant you were safe. "but it doesn't."

the next question tumbles from your lips thoughtlessly. "does that make me a bad person?"

he chuckles and some of the tension in the room dissipates. "i think i'm the last one on earth that can pass moral judgement on you."

he tucks your hair behind your ear and scans your face, relief coursing through his body when he sees you smile. in this moment, there isn't anything else in the world he would have asked for.

"i guess you're right."

and now, the hand over your mouth is your own, an attempt to stifle your tired giggles. the light of the bathroom is warm and steady. sukuna's hands rest atop your hips, his touch firm but comforting. while you can't feel your own heartbeat, you're positive it must be beating in time with his.

when you crawl into bed that night sukuna pulls you close, your back pressed to his bare chest. you're thankful for the softness of his demeanor, because you need it tonight more than ever.

he doesn't recede to his domain until yuuji wakes up the following morning. he's determined to keep an eye on you as you sleep, to watch the slow rise and fall of your chest with newfound gratitude.

he knows he needs to speak with the brat about what happened. someone is after you and while he hates to admit it, he knows he can't ensure your safety alone.

and he will keep you safe, no matter the cost.

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[syrupfog]

Luffy grew up with two brothers who, at first, hated him and kicked the shit out of him. Then, eventually, loved him and who expressed that love through kicking the shit out of him. 

Luffy's grown up with a low level of violence as love his whole life. 

His crew is the same, from very early on. Nami will beat on anyone (or at least any of the boys), and Zoro's been known to land a punch to the back of his head at every dumb remark he makes. 

And Sanji... his kicks are INTENSE. 

Luffy's lucky he's made of rubber.

and he laughs it all off-- because it's FUNNY. He knows his crew loves him, they're his CREW. He knows his brothers loved him, they're his BROTHERS. Luffy has always known violence as a form of love, although notably he rarely reflects that methodology onto others.

When Luffy meets Law the first time, Law watches as Luffy punches a Celestial Dragon in the face. That violence is, obviously, NOT a form of love. 

When Luffy meets Law the second time, it's when Law is saving his life, doing impossible levels of knitting him back together.

Luffy doesn't remember a lot of that bit, or the bit right after, on Amazon Lily, when the grief is at its strongest. 

But then, two years later, he sees Law again on Punk Hazard, and they form an alliance, and Luffy declares that Law is a good guy. 

No one else agrees.

But when has Luffy ever cared about other peoples' opinions? Now certainly isn't the time to start. Law gave all those pirates new legs. He saved Luffy. He's good. 

and then Law is travelling with them, aboard the Sunny. 

And he's mean and grouchy and short tempered and, again, everyone is wary of him. 

Luffy's not, of course, because that's just how Law is, but he's confused. 

Because no matter how many times Law snaps or yells or threatens to slice people apart, he's never violent. He doesn't throw punches or kick or draw his sword.

Which does make Luffy wonder if he's done something wrong, that Law doesn't feel like he can be free with Luffy, to go after him when he says something stupid. Everyone else does, is it because he's the captain? But Law's captain too, and they're in an alliance, they're equal.

But he doesn't say anything on it-- and even in Dressrosa, when Law tries to tell him the alliance is over, Luffy knows he wouldn't attack him even if he could. And it's confusing. He couldn't count the amount of times Ace landed a punch on him just for waking him up wrong.

After all that is said and done, and they land on Zou, and Luffy meets the Heart Pirates in all their glory, all twenty of them, he doesn't know if he gets more confused or less. 

The Heart Pirates LOVE their captain (as they should, Traffy is great!) and clearly would do anything for him, starting with those dorky poses they strike. And they yell at him for abandoning them, but they don't get violent with Law, and doesn't get violent with them. He sort of just... lets them yell at him and then talks over them. 

It's weird.

This isn't a thought that keeps Luffy up at night so much as it's a thought that he returns to whenever he looks at Law, reclining as his crew tries to get him to talk about what happened, or whenever Luffy's getting literally kicked out of the kitchen by Sanji.

It's a fact that Luffy puzzles on even in Wano, as Law is passively letting Luffy ruin every plan and then announcing that he planned FOR Luffy to ruin every plan. 

He doesn't hit Luffy for ruining his plan. He doesn't even elbow him in the side.

Before Luffy had seen Law with his own crew on Zou, he had thought that maybe Law didn't really like him. But after seeing Law interacting with his crew, he started to reevaluate. Law loves his crew, and although he threatens to use his Room on them (and maybe sometimes he does), that's not a violent thing. They can pop back together like Kin'emon did. 

But Luffy wonders-- what does it mean to be close with someone without feeling the freedom to get physical with them? 

He wonders this and doesn't have an answer, because that's never been his world.

And of course, what Luffy doesn't know, is that Law grew up with that violence. Had those formative years with Doflamingo, where he was taught to fight and lived with a family who was just as violent as Luffy's own. He was full of hatred and happily took it out on people.

And the only difference was Cora-- who at first was just as violent, to be fair, throwing him out a window and all that. 

But Cora who saw him as someone that could be saved, who sacrificed everything from his mission to his life, to give Law freedom of a different kind— the freedom of gentleness. The freedom that comes from being able to live for yourself. The freedom that comes from being loved enough that the one who loves you gave it all up for you. 

He gave Law everything he had, and he held him tight and told him it would all be okay.

And it wasn't, because Cora's gone, but Law took that love and internalized it, and from the very start the first thing he does is save Bepo from being hurt. 

He gathers a crew little by little and does so by giving them second chances like he was given, and gives them safety— including physical safety. Because separating himself from Doflamingo and that hatred means also separating himself from that senseless violence that comes from growing up in organized crime. 

Law's crew respects him because, despite his prickly exterior, he's stoically kind.He's using his fruit to help and to heal-- even when he gives those pirate hearts to the marines, did he kill them? Debatable. 

Law has worked hard to excise that violence from his life, and Luffy can see that even when no one else on his crew seems to notice.

And Luffy doesn't know why-- doesn't understand it-- but god it makes him smile wide when he sees Law snap at someone and knows that he can trust that Law won't hurt. 

It's like having a wild animal, capable of destruction, lay lazily at your feet.

Luffy wants that. It's an addicting feeling, to feel safe in that way. 

He loves his crew and he loves his brothers and he's made of rubber-- they couldn't hurt him, wouldn't hurt him. 

But the secret gentle kindness of Law is addicting.

[barrel-crow-n]

I was just thinking about how Kaz built this heartless persona for himself and how everyone falls for it to varying degrees: He's widely regarded as a monster and as "not made right"; Inej thought he wouldn't come for her and that once she was useless to him that he would discard her; Jesper never knows where exactly he stands with him; Nina "doesn't want to know what dark hole he crawled out of"; Wylan calls him "the most vengeful creature he had ever met"; Matthias believes he's a demon. But in reality his true motives for most things are love and grief and loss of family.

Kaz only wanted money for revenge, he didn't want to try and build a meaningful connection with Imogen because she would distract him from pursuing his vengeance, he only mentions how Pekka conned them out of money to explain how they ended up on the streets, how it was never about the money but about Jordie.

Kaz says that he and Jordie were such easy marks because they missed their dad. Kaz's biggest gripe was not just the loss of Jordie but the illusion of a home and family that Pekka had snatched away before the plague snatched Jordie away too.

It all always leads back to Jordie and his loss and avenging him and about never wanting to be that vulnerable again. Kaz created Kaz Brekker to protect himself, to hide his vulnerabilities. His grief is hidden behind a fake name, his naivety is hidden behind violence, his touch aversion is hidden behind the gloves.

Kaz pushes people away because he fears what will happen if he lets them in. He gets mean when he's vulnerable to hide said vulnerability. He did it in the clocktower, he did it in the bathroom. After he accidently calls Jesper Jordie he lashes out verbally and physically, when Inej asks about Jordie and Pekka's involvement in what happened he recounts how he tortured someone. In both incidents it's again Jordie that he's hiding, that is causing him to be vulnerable. It always leads back to Jordie. Even with Van Eck! He's again angry that he fell for what he fell for before, the thing that made him lose Jordie making him temporarily lose Inej.

In both the Jesper and Inej examples he hides behind violence - by brawling with Jesper and recounting a time when he tortured a young boy. He does this because he loves Inej and Jesper, and it scares him, and he doesn't know what to do with it. Because everyone he's ever loved has died in horrible ways (his father was torn apart by a plough, his brother died from a horrible sickness) and he doesn't want to go through it again - especially since he still hasn't let go of Jordie, although it has been eight years.

Kaz is a person who loves so deeply. Who is mainly motivated by love. Who, when Pekka asks him what he wants, replies "Bring my brother back from the dead." because he never cared about money, nor power, nor anything else. He just wants his brother. All he wanted this whole time is his brother, and since he no longer has him he lashes out, all hurt and grieving. He's hurting so badly that he destroys everyone even mildly involved in what took Jordie away from him. But he only did that because he loved Jordie. It wasn't revenge for the sake of money it was for the sake of love. It was for the sake of Jordie.

Kaz loved Jordie so much that he became the most feared person in Ketterdam, that he took down the King of the Barrel and a merchant from one of the oldest families in Ketterdam (because even if his gripe with Van Eck was unrelated, it's because of Jordie's loss that life snowballed into their interactions and the consequent betrayal and destruction of everything Van Eck held dear). Kaz loved Jordie so much that it changed the entire course of the narrative.

If not for Jordie's loss the heist wouldn't of happened, all of the Crows lives would've been different, some of the Crows would even most likely be dead, and this extends even further to much more major things. The King of Ravka managed to steal the titanium because of his help which will aid Ravka in wars, the path to jurda parem is no longer in the hands of the Fjerdans and a cure is being safely developed in Ravka because Kaz rescued Kuwei, Wylan took over the Van Eck empire because Kaz tampered with Van Eck's will and papers, Inej is working on taking down the slave trade which is only possible because Kaz freed her from her indenture, Nina became the queen of Fjerda because of things that Kaz started (her joining the Dregs instead of being indebted to the Dime Lions, him freeing Matthias, him organising the heist, Matthias dying in the aftermath, her going to Fjerda to bury Matthias and the results which ended up being her and her new lover on the Fjerdan throne trying to fix prejudice against grisha, and women, in the most conservative country).

All of it leads back to Kaz. And he did all of it for Jordie. It all always leads back to Jordie. Jordie and Kaz's love for his big brother and his grief over having him snatched away from him.

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

I believe Aang was right to end the war by sparing Ozai. But the only (imho) valid reason some people say he should have done it is because they wanted Aang to realize that pacifism is flawed.

I'm gonna disagree with you here, because a lot of the flaws fans talk about pacism and how ATLA in particular handles it as a concept are 99%:

1 - People being ignorant/racist and not knowing the difference between pacifist monks and "make love, not war" hippies.

2 - People being ignorant/racist and refusing to understand that there are different kinds of pacifism, even within the same cultures/people groups.

Aang is very clearly not the type of pacifist to go "You can NEVER react with ANY kind of violence towards someone else, even if it's to defend yourself/someone else" (which does exist, both IRL and in the show, just look at the owl spirit in "The Library").

We see him fight, and even be quite aggressive in said fights, in a lot of episodes. We also see he has no issues with invading the Fire Nation. More importantly, for the longest time the Avatar State was a result of him being pissed off enough at some kind of injustice that it makes him lose control, meaning he is very clearly affected by the horrors of war to the point of RAGE.

What makes him a pacifist is the way in which he doesn't WANT to lose control, doens't WANT go from aggressive to full on cruel, and, yes, wants to defeat his enemies, but not kill them.

And as I keep repeating, the show DOES make him question that last boundary he set for himself. He gets told by a past Avatar, who was also an air-nomad before anything, that, when there is such a large threat to everyone's life, including his own, he has to put aside his own spiritual needs and take a life - provided there isn't another option. But there was, so Aang took that, even after he decided that, yes, if there was no other way, he WOULD kill Ozai.

What people don't like is that Avatar, although questioning some types of pacifism, is far more interested in questioning the way people are WAY too eager to use violence to solve their issues, and, more importantly, expect someone else to get their hands bloody.

Fire Lord Sozin starts the war because he, according to himself at least, wants what's best for everyone and would like to share the Fire Nation's glory and great life with the other nations. He tries to do by invading foreign territories, killing his best friend, and commiting genocide. The fucker even has the dragons, an obvious Fire Nation symbol, to be hunted to extintion.

When Jet is angry at the Gaang for ruining his plan to free a village from the Fire Nation's control by blowing up a dam, Sokka asks "Who would be free? Everyone would be dead."

Zuko is banished because he spoke out against a Fire Nation higher-up's plan to use soldiers as fresh meat to bait the enemy into a more vulnerable position, thus assuring the nation's victory in that battle. He openly says "These men love and defend our nation, how can you betray them?"

When Zhao wants to kill the moon spirit, Iroh tries to stop him by pointing out that the Fire Nation needs the moon too (seriously, if it wasn't for Yue's sacrifice and Zhao's death, the Fire Nation would have had to create a word for "Big-ass wave that wrecks everything and kills people" like Japan did).

When Aang is deliberately trying to trigger the Avatar State because he doesn't want anyone else to die in the war, Katara, who had her life ruined by said war, is against it because while she opposes the Fire Nation, she cares about Aang and, in her own words, seeing him in so much pain and rage hurts her too. When Aang can't force himself to go nuclear, an Earth Kingdom ruler attacks Katara and makes both her and Aang, two very traumatized child soldiers, think he is going to kill her.

More importantly, when Ozai wants to burn down Earth Kingdom cities, he says "A new world will rise from the ashes, and I'll be supreme ruler of everything", to which Zuko concludes that, if they don't save the world before his dad takes over, there won't be a world to save.

And what does he say to Aang when he is about to kill him? "You're weak, just like your people. They didn't deserve to live in world, in my world."

Avatar does questions pacifism, and is critical of it on ocasion (again, watch "The Library"). But it's biggest theme is being critical of VIOLENCE, of resorting to it immediately without considering any other option and acting like it doesn't have long-lasting negative consequences, both to the person suffering it to the person inflicting it (see Azula's breakdown, Zuko's angry outburts only making him more miserable, Jeong Jeong growing to resent being a firebender, Zhao accidentally burning his own ships, etc)

The show is constantly highlighting that, yes, sacrifices need to be made for the greater good - but that CAN'T be normalized because it inevitably leads to a never-ending cicle of cruelty, as well as suffering to the one who has to do the dirty job (because lets not forget there's a big difference in how a soldier that is constantly in battle sees the war and how a king that just gives the orders but never goes into the actual combat sees the war).

The show embraces pacifism, despite knowing some versions of it are flawed, because the narratives themes are:

1 - EVERYONE is capable of great good and great evil

2 - No group has the right to impose it's own lifestyle onto others

3 - If everyone is either dead, mentally (and physically) scarred for life, or preparing to kill someone as revenge, then being killed by someone who wants to avenge that person, who will themselves be killed for revenge later, then the "greater good" you're sacrificing everything for doesn't actually exist because NO ONE will have a good life in a world that is stuck in the cicle of violence.

[ninii-winchester]

Crossed Allegiances

Pairing: Dean Winchester X Reader

Word count : 7.5k

Warnings: angst, smut, fluff, spn spoilers, language, canon violence. Not proofread.

A/n: had to split in two because the long fic has become too long.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

"Hurry up." Said the man in hushed whisper, his voice barely audible in the dead of the night.

"You're going to regret this, you know?" She whispered back, her voice was soft. She wasn't threatening him, rather she was scared for what might happen after.

"Don't make me change my mind." He replied. His words held no malice. They were more of a plea for her to hurry up. Before he could speak any further, she pulled him into a tight hug. He wasn't shocked at her action. He was used to her embracing him whenever the opportunity presented itself. Although he hated when she did so, this time he held her back and cherished these last moments with her.

"I'll owe you. For the rest of my life." She whispered lowly.

"You won't. You just be safe." He said pulling away from her. She nodded her head in a silent promise that she wouldn't be reckless and be safe. She looked at face, remembering every last detail, his short dark brown hair, the scar on his right cheek, his eyes, knowing this would be the last time she ever sees him in a very long time.

With a loud gasp Y/n sat up in her bed. Her forehead was covered in sweat as she heaved looking around. She relaxed a bit as she realised she was in her room, in her apartment.

It wasn't a nightmare per say that woke her up from her slumber. It was a memory. A memory buried in the back of her mind that she doesn't want to forget or remember. She wants to remember the last time she was with the most important person in her life but she wants to forget how she got here. She wants to forget how it was the last time she ever saw him and how she has no way of contacting him without risking his life.

With a heavy heart she dragged herself out of the bed, making her way towards the bathroom to get ready for her day.

Y/n L/n, a twenty four year old woman, who lives in Lebanon, Kansas for the past five years. She lives alone in her one bedroom apartment. Works two jobs, at the local bakery, near her place, during the day and as a bartender at the bar during the night.

She doesn't necessarily need the money. She works to keep herself busy. To keep herself from sitting idle and remembering the things she desperately wants to forget.

Making her way towards the bakery, she was the first to arrive there. It has always been like this, she's the first to arrive and the last to leave. She fumbled with the keys, her breath forming small clouds in the crisp morning air. With a soft click, she unlocked the door and pushed it open, the familiar scent of fresh bread and vanilla greeting her.

Y/n flipped the sign from "Closed" to "Open" and stepped inside, her movements practiced and efficient. She turned on the lights. The countertops were spotless, and the display cases were lined with freshly baked goods from the previous day, waiting to be restocked.

Soon her coworkers arrived and the bakery came to life with the customers filling in, and the aroma of rising bread and sweet pastries, filling her with warmth she lacked in her life.

Y/n's day went as usual, being in the back, finding solace in the warmth of the kitchen and  taking pleasure in baking goods.

"Hey Y/n." James, her co-worker called out. "Can you take the counter please? Ellie isn't back from her break but mother nature's calling me!" Y/n laughed, nodding her head. "Thank you you're a life saver. I owe you." He yelled running towards the bathroom and she just grinned. She didn't mind helping out.

Y/n made her way outside and stood behind the counter. Rush hour had passed and there weren't many people in the bakery. Just an old man enjoying his cupcakes, and a young couple having donuts with coffee.

The front door opened and the bell chimed indicating someone had walked in. Y/n prepared herself to greet the customer but the minute she looked at him, the air was knocked out of her lungs. He was gorgeous. She stared as he came closer, noting his eyes were the greenest eyes she'd ever seen.

"Hello!" The man said as he finally stopped in-front of her. His voice snapped her out of her trance, it was velvet smooth.

"Hey, what can i get you?" She cleared her throat flashing him a smile.

"Pie." He said with a childlike excitement. "The banner outside said it's Special Pie Day."

"Sure is. And it seems to be your lucky day mister, we're down to our last slice." She smiled before moving to get him his pie. She placed it in a takeaway box and gave it to him and he thanked her before paying for it.

"Have a nice day!" She said to him.

"You too." He replied before walking out.

The rest of the day Y/n spent thinking about of the handsome stranger. After closing up, she went home, she ate the leftover pizza and took a shower. Dressed in her jeans and a blue crop top she left home for her other job.

Time went by as usual, drunk fights, pool hustling and bad karaoke. After serving another patron Y/n wiped the counter top. She threw the paper towel into the bin it missed, so she squatted down to pick it up and throw it in properly this time. She jumped a bit when she stood back up and saw green eyes sitting on the stool.

"What can i get ya?" She questioned the handsome stranger. He recognised her from earlier.

"A beer please."

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you're stalking me." She teased him putting the bottle in front of him.

"Nah, sweetheart. You just happened to be at two of my favourite places." He flashed her a charming smile.

"I haven't seen you around here before." She leaned a bit on the counter trying to remember if she's ever seen him before.

"Just passing by. But a good pie and beer, key to my heart." She nodded her head in understanding, it wasn't the places that were his favourite rather the items.

"Did you like the pie then?" She couldn't help but ask. She knew she was at what she did but it never hurt to ask for a bit of validation.

"Best damn pie I've ever had." He exclaimed.

"Then I guess I've unlocked your heart." She grinned at him.

"You made it?" He questioned and she nodded eagerly. She didn't know what it was about this stranger that made her act like a high school girl but she was having fun. She liked that she had his attention. She wanted to get to know him, even if he was just passing by.

"Well it was some pie..." he trailed off looking at her, hoping to get a name.

"Y/n." She filled in. 

"Dean." He introduced himself.

"So what brings you here Dean?" She asked hoping to find more about the extremely gorgeous man sitting in front of her.

"Work." His vague answer told her he didn't want to talk more about it. So she dropped it. He asked her a few questions about her life here, he didn't ask her any personal questions so she was happy to indulge him. After he was finished with his third beer, he got a call and had to leave, much to her dismay. Fifteen minutes after he left, her shift was over and she headed home.

It was a silent night as she walked in the dark. She could feel another presence behind her and she knew she was being followed. Whoever it was, it's his bad day. She wasn't just a girl and she was really waiting for him to jump her just so she could beat the daylights out of him. But he didn't, and she couldn't risk him follow her all the way to her home so she slowed her steps, and then completely stopped.

"I know you're there." She called out. She moved towards the alley behind the dumpster and saw a figure in the shadows. The figure moved back as she approached him. Another pair of footsteps could be heard from outside the alley. She grabbed the shadow's arm and placed her forearm over his neck, pressing him into the wall, slightly cutting of his oxygen. As she pushed him to the wall, the light from the street lamp shone on his face. "Dean?" She questioned. "So you are stalking me!" His eyes widened as she said that.

"No, this isn't what it looks like!" He replied in a hushed voice.

"Three time's not a coincidence, Dean." She snapped. The sound of another pair of footsteps was getting louder. Dean rolled his eyes, not at her but the approaching footsteps.  Soon enough a man appeared in-front of them and Dean managed to break free from her hold and pushed her behind him. The man in front of him snarled as he barred his teeth in a menacing display. They weren't teeth Y/n noticed. Fangs.

The vampire lunged at Dean and the hunter was quick, getting his machete out of his jacket he charged at him. The vampire pushed at Dean's chest, throwing him against the wall, his machete slipping off his hands. The creature, closed in on Y/n. With calculated moves, she kneed the monster in the stomach.  The green eyed hunter watched as she reached over and picked Dean's machete, beheading the monster in one swift motion. Dean stood up but his jaw was still on the floor.

It was true that he was following her but the other two times he met her was purely coincidental. When he met her at the bakery, he just thought she was pretty. The next time he saw her at the bar, it was pure coincidence, after talking to her, he found her enticing. But then he got the call from his dad asking about his hunt and he remembered he was here for work. So he went back to his motel for research, however during his research he noticed that vamp was taking a certain type of females. Girls with Y/e/c eyes, y/h/c hair and the ones with a specific body type. His mind flashed with an image of Y/n and he immediately left his motel. His assumption had been true since the vamp actually came after her but he didn't expect her to do what she did.

"What did you do?" He asked her.

"Killed him, obviously! And saved your ass." She snapped folding her arms across her chest.

"Damn it Y/n, I could've followed him to his nest." He argued. "I'm gonna have to start over now."

"You wanted to use me as bait? Are you fucking kidding me?" She glared at him. "Stop hunting if it's such a bother to do your job in the first place."

"I wasn't using you as bait, I came to save you. If you hadn't killed him, I would've made him tell me where the rest of them are." He retorted. "Are you a hunter?" He asked after a moment of silence.

"No." She replied unfolding her arms and walking over to the dead creature's body. She patted his pockets hoping to find something that could lead them to his base. Dean scoffed at her response.

"Are you seriously going lie to my face after I just saw you decapitate a vampire?"

"I'm not a hunter Dean." She answered through gritted teeth. She found a cellphone in the vamps pocket, she threw it at Dean who caught it effortlessly. "That might help you." She said walking away.

"Hey.!!" He ran behind her and grabbed her arm as he caught up to her. "I could use the back up, you know." He tried to convince her with his captivating smile. She gave him a deadpan expression. "C'mon sweetheart, I'll owe you." He didn't give two shits about back up. He just didn't want her to leave too soon. Now that he knows he can be himself in front of her, he just wants to spend a bit more time with her.

She narrowed her eyes at him, he fidgeted under her scrutinising gaze and she smirked. "C'mon, out with it, sweetheart." She demanded in a teasing tone. Dean let out a huff.

"I thought you were pretty. But now I think you're smoking, you're badass and it's hot so can you blame a man for wanting to spend some more time with you?" He rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. "Besides you seem to know about this stuff and it's just a cherry on top."

"You could've just said so. Besides now that I think about it, you actually might need backup." He rolled his eyes at her teasing, knowing he's completely capable of holding on his own. "Lead the way." She motioned him to lead the way.

He took her to the Impala and she settled in the passengers seat. It wasn't long before she found herself out a cheap motel. He guided her inside his room and she could see the beds were still made, a few empty beer bottles were placed on the table with his laptop sitting on it. 

"May I?" She gestured to his laptop and he shrugged. She took a seat on the chair, before she could open the computer he jumped a bit before snatching it from her. He gestured her to wait a minute and closed all the tabs before giving it back to her. She gave him an amused look and he looked sheepish. "The phone." She raised her palm out in front of him. She went through the messages, the recent one stating,

Get back ASAP. -Rick

Y/n quickly traced the number and a few minutes later the computer pinged. "I got it." She turned the screen towards Dean and he was impressed by how quickly she found their target.

"Let's go, sweetheart."

It didn't take them long to arrive at the vampire's nest. They quickly sneaked inside the abandoned building, Y/n's grip tight on her borrowed machete. She scanned the area before moving in stealthily. Dean right behind her. As they ventured further into the building, a bit of chatter could be heard over loud music coming from upstairs. The duo nodded at each other and made their way upstairs. It all happened in a flash, Y/n noticed they were seven of them and charged fearlessly. Slashing heads after heads. One of them had managed to knock the machete out of her hand but she didn't falter, she jumped a bit and spin kicked the vampire which made him fall a few feet away with a loud thud. That gave her the opening to grab her weapon and end his life.

Y/n and Dean panted, covered in blood with victorious grins of their faces. Dean had witnessed how she'd kicked the vamp and he was impressed. This girl was astonishing him every second. He wanted to know her, he needed to know the girl who denied being a hunter but fought better than one.

"I believe a celebration is in order." Dean said holding his hand out to her. She grabbed it without hesitation.

"My place, Deano." She whispered in his ear and he swore he felt his blood rush to all the right places. After burning the bodies the two got into the Impala, driving to her place. She let him inside her apartment and closed the door behind her.

"Drink?" She questioned walking into the kitchen. Dean nodded. "Have a seat, make yourself comfortable." She gestured to the couch.

"Nah, don't wanna ruin your couch, sweetheart." Dean replied as she came back with two bottles of beer. He took one graciously and took a big swig.

"Then why don't you strip, sweetheart." He mentally groaned as he's never met a woman like this before. He swore if he was capable, he would've fallen in love with her. Her eyes watched how his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. Leaving her bottle on the coffee table, she moved toward the bathroom. She tossed her top at him before disappearing inside.

"Fuck, this woman." Dean groaned before joining her inside. She was waiting for him under the shower in all her naked glory. Dean didn't waste anytime before stripping off his clothes and joining her. He stepped under the warm water his chest pressing against her back. She could feel his length pressing into her back. She turned around, slamming her lips into his. He grabbed the back of her head, pulling her closer, their lips met in an incredibly intense kiss, charged with a raw, electric heat. The kiss deepened, becoming fierce, that left them both breathless and craving more. He groaned into her mouth.

"Fuck i gotta take you to bed." He growled. As much as he loves a good shower sex he needs to take her to bed, he needs to have a taste of her sweet nectar, he wants her to fall apart on his tongue at least twice before has his way with her, before he spilts her open. Most of all he wants her to enjoy this as much as he does, he wants her to be comfortable.

She nodded before turning off the shower. He picked her up effortlessly, and threw her on the bed. He kissed her once before making his way down between her legs. He buried his head in her core. Lapping at her juices like a starved man. As much as his body ached to be inside of her, he needed her to come undone on his tongue. And she did. Hard.

"I could eat you all day, fuck you're sweeter than any pie I've ever had." He praised kissing the inside of her thighs.

"Dean." She whimpered. "Need you." She was needy for him, she had never wanted a man as much as she him and she didn't even know his last name.

"Patience, baby." He rasped. Fuck, his voice alone was enough for her to lose every last thread of her sanity. And his expert mouth and fingers had her wanting, begging for more.

He hovered above her, his hand resting beside her head. His other hand tracing all over her body as his mouth left open mouth kisses over her neck and chest. Although she was loving being submissive for him, she was running out of patience. Pulling him down slightly she flipped him on his back, moving up to straddle his waist.

"Easy, princess." Dean teased as she positioned herself and sunk down on him. He groaned loudly as he sheathed inside her completely. "Fuck baby." He grunted as she started moving.

"Dean." She gasped as running her hands all over her body. Throwing her head she moved faster.

"Say my name, just like that." He flipped them over so she was under him again. Pulling her legs over his shoulders, he pounded into her. She didn't remember the last time a man had her screaming his name over and over until it was the only thing she remembered. He pressed his lips onto hers, one of his hands wrapping around her throat, adding slight pressure making her roll her eyes in the back of her head. She kept repeating his name like mantra, with each snap of his hips.

After hours of immense pleasure, she'd lost sense of her surroundings, lost count of the times he's made her come, she didn't even know if it was night or day anymore. All she knew that this enigma of a man was making her feel things she'd never felt before. She came back to her sense as she felt Dean rub gentle circles on her skin.

"You okay, sweetheart?" She nodded slowly. "You were amazing baby girl." He grinned at her handing her a glass of water he brought for her.

"You were fantastic." She responded as he settled in the bed with her. He laid back pulling her down to rest her head on his chest. Pretty soon the day's exhaustion took over and she drifted off to slumber.

"We have to. I have to." A blonde girl muttered with no emotion.

"No we don't." She replied looking somber.

"You don't understand, there is no other way." The blonde girl took a step closer.

"We will find a way. This doesn't have to happen.!" She exclaimed walking backwards.

"I am sorry." Was the last thing she heard the blonde girl say.

A loud scream, woke Dean from his slumber. He shot up and watched Y/n sit up beside him. Her eyes were wide open and she was out of breath.

"Hey hey! Sweetheart, just a nightmare, yeah?" Dean nodded at her, slowly coaxing her.

Not just a nightmare.

"Yeah!" Dean gathered her in his arms, placing a kiss on her head. He didn't know why but his is heart was aching for the girl in his arms. He felt the need to protect her. He gently laid her back on the bed, his arms tightening around her. She felt safe in his arms. She wanted to ask him to stay forever. But she knew she couldn't and she knew he wouldn't.

Dean's woke up as he heard vibrations coming from somewhere. He snuggled into her neck further, but his eyes flew open as he realised it was his phone buzzing. He slipped out of the bed, tripping on his feet as he rushed towards his phone. He somehow managed to pull it out of his jeans before it stopped ringing.

"Fuck." He cursed as he saw the called ID. It was his dad. "Yeah Dad!" He said answering the phone. "Yeah. No, I forgot. It's done." Dean waited for his father to finish speaking so he could go back to the baddie in bed, cuddle her, wake her up with his head between her legs. But his father ordered him to be back in three hours. Since there's no use for him to stay there if the job's done. "Yes, Sir." Dean muttered before hanging up. He knows it's a long drive and he'd only make it in there in three hours if he left right now. There's no time for a quickie and the thought made him groan.

Y/n yawned and stretched as she woke up to an empty bed. She tried not to feel disappointed that he was gone; she knew he would leave eventually. But she had hoped for at least a goodbye. She heard footsteps approaching. Dean emerged through the doorway and flashed her a smile.

"Good morning."

"I thought you left," she mumbled, pulling the covers closer to her body. He inched closer, then kneeled on the bed before her.

"You really thought I'd leave without saying goodbye?" he asked softly, his voice tinged with surprise and amusement. He nugded her nose with his before pressing his lips to her. She gasped as he slipped his tongue inside her mouth. She pulled him closer, pulling him above her, but he pulled apart. "As much I'd love to, I have to leave. My dad called." He explained kissing her pout.

"Alright."

"This is goodbye?" Dean questioned.

"You can stop by whenever you want." She shrugged. Dean nodded.

"Do you think I can call you for backup?" He asked getting dressed.

"Don't you even dare." She threatened even when they both knew they hadn't exchnaged numbers, they didn't even know anything about each other apart from their names. He chuckled placing one last kiss on her lips before leaving her house.

Over the years Dean often thought about Y/n. She was the only woman ever that made Dean's heart leap out of his chest. He was beautiful, fierce, a badass when it came to hunting, but still had a graceful feminine touch to her personality. He was pretty sure she had ruined every other woman for him. His hookups were all meaningless and never enticed him to go for another night. He had every intention to go back to Y/n, visit her, maybe beg her to come with him. But due to this life, he never got the opportunity. Part of him stayed away because she didn't want to do anything with hunting, and he wasn't sure if he could bear her rejection. So he never tried.

Ten years had passed the bakery owner Mrs. Reed passed away and left the bakery in Y/n's name as she had no kin of her own. And she loved Y/n dearly. The old woman knew she was passionate about her job and was worthy of owning the place.

Dean never came back. Y/n never expected him to or even remember her. Y/n was thirty four now. Dean had managed to leave an impression on her. She tried not to think of him often. But this is life. You meet people, you remember some, you forget some. But there's some people she desperately wanted to forget but yet her mind wouldn't let her.

She stopped working at the bar ever since she inherited the bakery, but she still visited the bar on weekends. Having a drink or two. Had she known what awaited her, she would've never left her house that day. Y/n was by the pool table, a glass of whiskey in her hands as she watched the game between between two bulky men.

Her eyes wandered around the place ever so often. Her breath caught in her throat as she made eye contact with those blue eyes. She gulped down her drink in one go. She hoped he didn't recognise her but the smirk on his face said otherwise. She watched as one of men was positioned to take his shot, she accidentally stumbled into him ruining his shot. The large man turned to her and she cowered back in fear.

"He told me to do it." She pointed to his opponent and the large man turned to him. Grabbing him by his collar he threw a punch at his face. A fight broke out, creating enough diversion for her slip away.

"That was clever Y/n." A voice said from behind her as she walked out of the bar. "But you should know it isn't enough to outrun me." She stepped dead in her tracks as turned to face him. There was no way to run. Now that he knows she's alive, there's no way she could ever run. 

"Mr.Ketch." She stuttered taking a step back.

"I never believed you died." He took a step forward. His thick accent still the same as she remembered. "Even if you were nineteen, you were one of the best." She watched in anticipation as he inched closer. "Though I never thought I'd run into you in America."

She was terrified of him. If it had been anyone else, she would've tried to run. If it had been anyone else, she might've felt relieved that they hadn't hurt her yet. But this was him—ruthless, calculating. The more he stalled, the more her fear grew. He liked to make his prey think they had a chance to escape. He liked the chase.

"Mr.Ketch." She spoke again, but she didn't even know what else to say.

"I just don't understand how'd you do it? How did you run from the Men of Letters. And more importantly why?" He circled around her. "Ah you know what, don't bother. I'm not interested."

"Why are you here?" She finally mustered the courage to question him. "I have been living a normal life, I haven't told anyone anything about the Men of Letters." She added feeling the need to explain.

"Don't flatter yourself, darling." Arthur snipped in his usual tone. "I'm not here for you, though it is a pleasant surprise to see you here." A moment of silence passed and Ketch gripped her arm tightly. "Now that I think about it. You're coming with me." She knew struggling against him would be a waste of her energy. He dragged her towards his vintage looking motorcycle.

The ride was short, she didn't recognise where he was taking her. They stopped in front of what looked like a base, located in a hidden bunker. It appeared to be deeply hidden and fortified. He placed his hand on the biometric scanner, the security gate opened and he dragged in her inside the by arm.

He nudged her move on her own, he opened a door to what seemed to be a briefing room. There were screens placed all over the place, some showed maps, locations and security footage of God knows what places. A huge table with chairs was set up in the middle. The door opened for a second time and someone entered the room while her back was to the door.

"Look what I found." Ketch announced, turning her around forcefully. Her heart stopped for a minute when her gaze landed on the newcomer. Those eyes, the ones she memorised fifteen years ago, stared back at her with an unreadable expression. That scar across his right cheek was the same as she remembered.

"Mick." She breathed out. He was frozen in his place. He never thought he'd ever get to see her. He had always hoped and prayed for her safety. Seeing her back in the same hell again, the one he rescued her from, he didn't know how to feel.

She didn't care if she shouldn't have done it in front of Ketch but she ran straight into his arms. Her best friend. The one that helped her when she it needed the most. The one who risked his life help her run. As the initial shock wore off, Mick wrapped his arms around her. Hugging her tightly, not wanting to let go. He'd missed her.

"Well, isn't it heartwarming." Ketch said sarcastically, from behind her, making them pull apart.

"What do you want from me?" She snapped, her fear now turning into anger and frustration.

"Now that is a very good question, darling." Ketch clicked his fingers before towering her. "What do you think will happen when the Elders find out a rogue hunter is alive?" He sneered as he spoke. "They'd issue your death warrant. And trust me I would love to carry out those orders."

There was no doubt that he was right, Y/n knew and Mick did too. They would have her killed. The main reason Mick declared her dead was to ensure they would never look for her ever again. And that plan had been successful for fifteen years- until today. Until Ketch found her.

"I have a job for you. Complete it, or you won't live to see another sunrise." Ketch said retrieving his gun from his gear. "So what's it gonna be?" He questioned pointing the gun to her head.

"What's the job?" Ketch smirked at her answer and Mick let out a resigned sigh.

"Eliminate the Winchesters. From within."

Y/n didn't know who the Winchesters were or why the British Men of Letters were so concerned about them. But knowing Ketch as she did, she was sure he wouldn't hesitate to assassinate the Winchesters if it weren't so complicated.

"Mick here will tell you whatever you need to know," Ketch said, grabbing his stuff. Turning to her, he added, "And Y/n, one wrong move." He warned, pointing his gun at her to emphasize that he wouldn't hesitate to shoot. She nodded meekly before he left.

"Oh god." She let out a breath as the menacing man left the room. She turned to Mick embracing him again. He patted her back, calming her down. "How have you been?" She asked pulling away to look at him.

"I've been better. I'm ecstatic to see you, but I'm terrified for what might happen to you." He replied, his familiar accent soothing her. She gave him a small smile.

"Don't worry about me, Micky." He rolled his eyes at her for using his old nickname she'd given him. "I've had a great life thanks to you. After I'm done with these Winchesters, I might end up killing Ketch and maybe we can run away. I'm not leaving my best friend behind this time." She said sounding determined.

"Sure thing kiddo." He ruffled her hair. She pouted slapping his hand away. She hated when he did that.

"Fill me in about these Winchesters." She said plopping down on one of the chairs.

"They're brothers. American hunters, currently residing in a Men of Letters bunker in Lebanon, Kansas." Mick stated sitting beside her.

"What's Wretch's beef with them?" She questioned. Mick let out a laugh knowing who she was referring to.

"It's not a personal conflict. They're meddling with business." Mick replied.

"Such as?"

Mick gave her a look. She immediately understood that the Winchesters weren't fond of their methods. The British Men of Letters had no regard for collateral damage, as long as their goals were achieved. It was one of the reasons Y/n got out. She had had enough of having innocent blood on her hands.

"And why can't that cunt deal with them himself?" She asked.

"They've proven to be a bit unpredictable. They've outsmarted him. And they're resilient as hell." Mick informed her, a smirk appeared on her face.

"I like these Winchesters. At lease someone gave Wretch hell." She snickered. Mick chuckled before dropping a file in front of her. The file was labeled as 'Winchesters'. She flipped the file open and read through it.

Sam and Dean Winchester. The name Dean brought back memories, her mind flashed with the images of the green eyed hunter. Her eyes widened as realisation hit. Dean, American Hunter. She flipped through the file for a photo. When she found one attached to the page with a paperclip, she removed it and inspected closely. The man in the photo looked familiar, he no longer had that boyish charm on his face, he looked her older. But those eyes. Those green eyes.

Son of a bitch.

Y/n mulled things over, he probably won't even remember her. But does she want to play puppet for Ketch. She ran away from this god forsaken organisation for a reason. But then she knew Ketch wouldn't just kill her. He would torture her, mentally and physically. She could bear the physical pain being inflicted onto her but she knows he would drag Mick into this to break her. And she can't let that happen. She owed him her life, her happiness, those fifteen years she spent as a normal human being. He'd always treated like a little sister and she'd seen him like the big brother she never had. She can't let anything happen to him. She won't.

"I guess I got work to do." Y/n mumbled closing the file. "Call Wretch." She told Mick. The man nodded and called Ketch. The man came back with a stoic look on his face. "Final goal?" She questioned.

"On our side or dead." Ketch replied.

"When I do this, you'd better keep your pestering ass out of my way. And don't you dare show up anywhere near me!" Ketch scoffed at her threat. "I'm serious, those guys hate your guts and I don't want to be seen with you. Don't want your incompetence to mess up my work." This triggered Ketch and his face twitched a bit but he held back.

"Be my guest." He taunted before leaving again.

Mick helped her get back to her apartment. She dropped on her bed as she formulated a plan.

Plan A, get them to be partners with the British Men of Letters.

Plan B, Elimination.

She hoped it never came to Plan B.

Y/n knew her best shot at getting close to the Winchesters would be Dean. She'd read about them, the British Men of Letters had kept an eye on them for a long time. She knew Sam would be a bit suspicious of her but given her past with Dean, she could manage to accomplish her mission. Out of all the places in the country, Y/n never thought Dean would settle down here, in Lebanon. How come she never ran into him she wondered, but then again, she never went out much, just the bakery or the bar. It makes her question why he never visited her. Maybe he did forget about her.

Y/n visited the bar Dean visited frequently, according to the files. She'd been here for the fourth day in a row and he hadn't showed up yet again. She wanted to run into him accidentally, just so he wouldn't get suspicious of her. It wasn't unlikely for him to bump into an old fling at the bar. It would be completely coincidental. The door to the bar opened and walked in the green eyed hunter she'd been waiting for.

If he looked gorgeous back then Y/n didn't know how to describe him now. His features a bit more rugged, his hair a bit tousled, a bit of stubble present on his jaw and she pressed her thighs together, wanting to feel that scruff between her legs.

She downed her drink quickly as she watched him take a seat on one of the stools by the bar. She quickly made her way towards him. She lightly tapped on his shoulder and waited for him to turn around.

Dean wasn't in the mood to be bothered by anyone, and he certainly didn't want to deal with an annoying woman clinging onto his side. He presumed if he'd act uninterested, whoever it was, would leave him alone. But they persisted, tapping on his shoulder once again. He grumbled before turning around, ready to tell the intruder to fuck off but time froze as he did.

Dean didn't believe his eyes, it was Y/n. She was right in front of him. In the flesh. She logged a bit older than the last time he saw her. Her y/h/c was a bit longer, her body had grown, in more ways than one. She was a pretty girl but she's turned into an even more beautiful woman. He blinked a bit when he heard her call his name.

"Dean? Dean, you zoned out."

"Fucking hell. Y/n!" It wasn't a question. It was an exclamation. He remembered her. "Goodness, sweetheart. Look at you." Dean beamed. "Still beautiful as ever."

"And look at you, still charming as ever." She replied with a grin. He missed her. He missed this. She was the only woman who could tease him and match his flirty banter.

"How have you been?" Dean asked her.

"Been good. Though I'm a bit upset." She pouted. Although she was doing a job, she couldn't help but say what she felt.

"Why is that, sweetheart?"

"Well you're here, and you didn't visit." She replied honestly. He hadn't expected her to say that. He never thought she'd want him to visit her. "Is there a girlfriend or a wife I should know of?"

"None." He replied. At his answer she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his neck, his arms immediately circling her waist.

"Missed you." She whispered in his ear making him shudder. The woman that has been invading his dreams for the past ten years is back in his arms and he was losing control. He dragged his nose through the column of her neck, inhaling her scent.

"Missed you too baby." If she was being honest, being back in his arms made her forget why she was there in the first place. Although she'd barely spent 24 hours with him in total, she'd missed him immensely over the years. "Let's get out of here, yeah?" She nodded, he turned and threw a few bills to cover for his beer. His arm never leaving her waist, he pulled towards the Impala. "You still live at the same place?" She nodded again as he pulled the car out of the parking.

They reached her place soon enough but none of them were eager to rip their clothes off of each other. With his hand tightly clutched in hers, she pulled him to the couch Dean's strong arms encircle Y/n, holding her close against his chest, where they can feel the steady beat of his heart. His warmth surrounds her. Dean's fingers lazily trace patterns on Y/n's back, his touch gentle and reassuring. Y/n nestles her head against the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent she missed so much. It hasn't even been an hour since she was back in his arms, and she's already considering telling Ketch to fuck off.

"What have you been up to these days?"

"Hunting. What about you?" Dean shifts slightly, pulling Y/n even closer, and presses a soft kiss to the top of her head. There's a quiet contentment in the air, the kind that comes from being with someone who makes you feel safe and cherished. Neither of them knew just how desperately they wanted each other, until now.

"Ah same old. I'm the owner of the bakery now. And i stopped working at the bar."

"That's amazing, sweetheart."

"When are you leaving?" Her question echoed through the quiet apartment. He tensed slightly; he hadn't told her he lived here now. He wasn't ready for her reaction upon discovering he'd been living here for years and never bothered to visit. Not this soon But he knew he had to come clean sooner or later. If he wanted something more with her—something real this time—he needed to tell her the truth.

"I'm not." She looked at him with curious eyes, although she knew he was living in the Men of Letters bunker with his brother. She knew almost everything about him— yet here she was, pretending. She hated doing it. "I live here with my brother. Have been for a while."

"I see." She replied looking down at his chest. A part of her was hurt that he had been living her and he didn't come find her. If Ketch hadn't appointed her with this job, she would've never met Dean again.

"Cmon, don't be like that, sweetheart. I wanted to come see you. I just thought maybe you'd moved on, had someone in your life. We didn't exactly make any promises." He rubbed the back of his head. "Besides, I don't think I would've been able to handle seeing you with someone else." A smile broke onto her features at his admission.

"There hasn't been anyone. No one was the flirty green-eyed hunter." She grinned up at him. It was the truth, she did meet other people over the years but they weren't Dean.

"I was wondering, if you'd want to give us a real chance? I know this is sudden, we just met again-" she didn't let him complete, she stopped him mid sentence by pressing her lips to his.

"I'd love to." Y/n was now questioning her own skills; she hadn't been on a job for fifteen years. The lines were blurring for her. She wasn't sure if she'd be able to complete this job or get herself killed by Ketch. Whatever it was, she didn't care in that moment. She wanted Dean. And he was willing to himself to her.

Dean stayed the night but nothing happened. Y/n served Dean the pie in her fridge, she loved how his face lit up like a child. Even after years his love for pie was still the same. The curled up in bed, catching up on each other's lives they missed over the years.

"Your best friend is an angel?" She looked at him incredulously. He chuckled at her reaction and nodded.

"Yeah. He's more like a baby in a trench coat."His laugh made her smile sadly. The more he told her about his life, the more she was second guessing this job. Is she really going to kill him and his brother if they don't cooperate with the British Men of Letters.

"I'm sorry Dean." He looked down at her with a questioning gaze. "The years haven't been kind to you." She pressed a soft kiss to his chest. "I can't even imagine how you'd felt, going to hell, purgatory. I'm so sorry." She cupped his cheek, staring in those green eyes that'd seen so much. There's pain but there's adoration, for her.

"It's in the past." He shrugged nonchalantly. He didn't know what possessed him to tell her his life story but he wanted to tell her everything. He wanted to be emotionally connected with her, he wanted it to be real, more than just a physical relationship. "Go to sleep, sweetheart." He kissed her forehead as she snuggled closer to him.

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2 @galway-girlatwork @deangirl96 @queensilber

@s0urw00lf @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @deans-baby-momma @fullbelieverheart

@riah1606 @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @hobby27

@starkleila @suckitands33 @m3ntally-unstable @kanekilovelove-blog @candy-coated-misery0731

[yanderes-galore]

Hi! Can I request a romantic yandere concept for Vox with Singer! Darling? The Vees already control fashion and entertainment industries, so Vox looking to expand isn't too far-fetched.. Seems like a fun idea. With him visiting his darling when she practices singing her new song or.. threatening her to let him listen to her voice once again or else she'll lose her job.

Or him kicking and giggling like a schoolgirl when he listens to love songs because he thinks she sings abt him lmao

OMFG I am so excited to do this one as I can see him assuming your songs are about/for him. Did female due to the pronouns used in the ask. Let me know if there's any formatting issues. Tumblr likes to do that.

Yandere! Vox with Singer! Darling

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Mature themes, Delusional behavior, Stalking, Manipulation, Coercion, Soul contract, Mentions of ownership, Toxic relationships, General yandere themes, Violence, Murder, Blood, Possessive behavior, Forced relationship.

It only makes sense that Vox would want to branch out.

He and the other Vees control the TV/adult film entertainment industry and fashion industry.

Eventually the music industry should be included.

I love the idea of Vox falling for a singer he met at a bar or something.

You're a young singer just starting her career in Hell.

When Vox sees you, you're such a beautiful thing.

Your voice is almost too divine for Hell.

Like a siren he falls for you and thinks of a plan to have you under the control of the Vees.

He never thought too much about singing until he met you.

He doesn't give you a job immediately.

First, he decides he should "scope things out".

He watches your every performance, making sure every one of them is recorded to look at later.

He listens to your songs on repeat and definitely looks to see if you listened to any love songs.

Eventually Vox will approach you to speak.

You originally seem nervous, he's a known Overlord after all.

Yet Vox plays himself off as a friend.

He's no threat, dear!

He just wants to see what you have to offer.

Safe to say, your voice and looks get you a job with Vox and the Vees.

Vox wants to harness your voice, to hear you sing because he tells you to.

You become his little songbird, often asking Velvette to prepare your outfits when singing.

Said outfits are often colors that represent Vox, like blues accented with reds.

Despite the fact Vox likes to dress you up and listen to your voice, I imagine he's jealous of your other fans.

Now in terms of if he'd own your soul or not, that can happen.

At first there's no soul contract, just him paying and supporting you to sing so he can listen to all of your songs on repeat.

Vox may slowly fall in love with you when listening to the songs you sing.

I like to imagine he gives you love songs to sing, much to your confusion.

When asked about it he just says its "what the people want!"

In reality, it's what he wants as he records you singing the lyrics to listen to later.

He definitely giggles to himself while listening to your songs in private.

Vox is a very charismatic Overlord who likes to keep up appearances.

I can see him manipulating or coercing his little songbird into things.

After all... Don't you want to be famous?

He can make you a star, lovely... Just sign his contract.

He'd definitely coerce his singer obsession into a contract, wanting to own her soul on a pretty blue chain.

He appears at every practice you have, in fact you've never seen him miss one.

It's surprising to every demon there at first when Vox appears to watch you sing.

Although... once word gets out that Vox does indeed own your soul, they stop questioning it.

You're off the market now.

If you ever tried to neglect him, he'd definitely have a bit of a fit.

For example, maybe you're tired and mad at him... You tell him you have to skip a practice.

Well, maybe he'll let you skip a practice... But now you have to sing for him in private.

If you don't? Then he summons your chain and reminds you of just who you belong to.

He grins when you comply, singing cute little songs for him whenever he asks.

After all, this is your price for luxury.

At first you can deal with having to sing and dance for him.

Then he brings up something new.

Vox wants to make his claim over you known... He wants to be in a relationship with you.

You don't have much of a say, right?

He has control of your job and soul.

Even if you said no, he could easily just drag you around by that cursed electric blue chain.

Reluctantly you comply.

You become Vox's little songbird and lover.

He doesn't let Valentino anywhere near you and still allows Velvette to place you in cute dresses for shows.

If any other demon fan gets any ideas about you... Vox will deal with them.

He'll make it a message for others to know not to touch you.

You're his, his little songbird to adore.

Vox seems like he'd keep you on his lap or in a special little room.

You can even hear him listening to your songs, humming along as he works on something.

The other Vees may even get tired of it, leading to Vox to tell them off.

Every song you do is perfect in his eyes.

He even forces you to sing specific lyrics that vaguely imply you and him.

If your voice is feeling sore, he'll get whatever he can to soothe it.

It's not surprising if he interrupts a show to deal with a rival.

Maybe you're doing a meet and greet, only for Vox to drag away a demon who thought they could get too close to you.

You know better than to question the blood on his clothes.

Valentino often calls you Vox's pet due to the fact he owns your soul and calls you "songbird".

In reality, it does feel like you're a pet.

He has you on a leash, you listen to every order he gives, and you're used for his entertainment.

He's possessive, his touch tight and kisses rough when he has you in his arms.

He often praises you, calling you affectionate nicknames as he holds you close.

He doesn't care about PDA, in fact it probably just gets the message across.

By the time Vox has you, you don't just belong to the Vees, you belong to him...

Even if you tried to leave your job, you'd never leave him.

"Come on, Songbird! Sing another song for me... Sing a song about us, won't you~?"

[eetherealgoddess]

Hellooo! I keep on rereading all your male reader × bonten fics. It's so good. Can you please make another where the male reader is a straight alpha hybrid that is owned by bonten, but against his will? Like, he doesn't like them or the way they touch him because he doesn't like guys. So one day, Mikey was going to the reader's room to cuddle him or baby him, but he was met by moaning and whimpering which made mikey feel giddy but when he went to the room and found out that the reader was masturbating over a pornstar girl he gets mad, like MAD. He'll grab the phone and angrily ask, "what's this?" To which the reader replies, "you know I'm not gay, master." and he calls all the bonten members to punish him. 🥰

i wrote this a little different than you requested but i hope you enjoy it anyway! <3

ꨄBitchedꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Hybrid Au

❦You're a wolf hybrid who's forced to be Bonten's pet❦

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader

Not fully proofread!

Japanese language is red

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR & AO3 UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture him as a black male but you can see him however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Bitched

“Say please, Master.”

How did you, a hybrid wolf, who used to be an alpha to a pack get in a situation like this?

“Please, Master.” Your face warmed as you kneeled in front of the man, the palm of your hands placed on the floor as you looked up at one of your ‘owners.’ It was demeaning. Downright humiliating to be in such a situation as this. Especially when you’ve only been a leader all of your life.

The man standing above you bent over with his hands placed on his knees as he became eye level with you. His eyelids were heavy - lidded as he gazed into your irises. His bangs hung over his eyes as the purple mane fell over his shoulders. The logo on his neck prominent in your peripheral as you made eye contact.

“Something wrong, puppy?” The criminal frowned as he gave you a bored look, indicating his annoyance at your behavior. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as a rush of anxiety caused you to immediately act.

With your ears perked up and tail wagging, you straighten your posture as a wide grin forcefully grows on your face.

“Please, Master!” Your tongue hangs out as you lightly pant, aiming to be as enthusiastic as possible. Despite your actions, you are deeply ashamed of yourself. You feel like such a coward, obeying and bowing down to a group of men who have power over you. You were forced to submit, your pack having been slaughtered caused you to become a lone wolf.

It was by chance you were caught up in the middle of a deal gone wrong, bullets flying everywhere while you hid in the alleyway. The whole area was surrounded with men in suits. When you tried to escape, you were caught by the scariest short man you have ever seen. You tried to fight, only to be knocked out immediately by a sudden kick you hadn’t expected.

You miss your pack. Nothing is the same. You miss your pack Luna as well, the woman you were married to. You helped each other through your rutts and heat. The first rutt you experienced in captivity was horrible. A few of the Bonten members were ‘experimenting’ with your body, touching and poking at spots you had never even noticed. The stimulation forced you into a rutt, resulting in the need to breed.

The platinum haired male who had kicked you originally covered your erection with lube before he lowered himself to engulf your throbbing cock. You had never been attracted to males in your life, hybrid or not. Although it was enough for you to release your seed over and over, you weren’t in your right mind. Post nut clarity hit like a bitch and it forced you into a depression that still affects you.

The following rutts grew worse, some of the men bending you over like a bitch in heat. Your masculinity and ego were torn to shreds. You had to escape, you needed to leave. So you did, until you were found.

“Good boy!” Rin pats your head before placing the treat on your tongue. “Your Japanese has improved.” He smirked before grabbing the leash that hangs from your collar, forcing you to crawl along as you enter the office where some of the other executives sit.

You swallow the residue crumbs of the treat as you look down, the bruise on your knees growing the longer they are connected to the floor. You ignore the pain as you sit criss crossed, next to the feet that are crossed once Rin sits in his seat.

“Come ere’, puppy.” The older Haitani who sits next to his brother commands while patting his lap. He smiles down at you while you hold back the urge to slice his throat with your claws. You hate that they call you demeaning pet names. You’re no damn puppy. Despite your feelings, you comply, not wanting to experience the baton again.

You keep your gaze down as you refrain from eye contact with any of the men who snicker as you crawl onto Ran’s lap, your bottom connecting as his arms circled around your waist from behind. His chin rests on your shoulder as he listens to the short man.

Mikey proceeds to talk about the mission everyone is needed for, ordering them on what they should do as well as giving some information about their assignments. You could only make out some of the words that you’ve been taught, zoning out as you lose focus on the situation at hand.

“Y/n.” Your ears perk up to your name as you eye the boss.

“I expect you to be on your best behavior while we’re gone.” You knew that was a threat more than anything, though the excitement for a break without all of them being around you was more distracting than the warning.

“Yes, Master.”

It’s been a couple hours since your owners left and you’ve been searching for anything to help aid your escape. Unfortunately, security surrounds the outside area so you couldn’t leave but if only you could find something, anything.

You sigh in frustration as you slam the papers down, having snuck in Kokonoi’s room where he keeps some of the paperwork in his desk area, having already checked the office. You didn’t really know what to look for but you weren’t finding anything anyway. Thoughts of your wife and pack appear as you become saddened, tears prick your eyes before you groan, your head lying in your hands as the elbows are plastered to the desk.

You eye the laptop in front of you, staring at your reflection as memories of your wife fill your mind. You were so desperate for intimacy, ideas began to flood as you looked down in thought. You missed holding her, cooking with her, making pack rules and implementing them with her, watching her take care of the pack’s youth. You miss her nurturing nature. You slam your fist on the desk as you growl.

You need her. You need her touch. You need her care. You need her to be there with you. For the first time in your life, you felt as though someone needed to save you. You miss hearing her voice, her moans and cries of pleasure. Feeling a twitch below you bite your lip. The last time you had sex with a woman was when you originally escaped.

You were so depressed that instead of finding shelter, food, or income you went to a nightclub and boozed up. You remember the lounge area like it was yesterday.

“Fuck!” You hiss as you thrust into the human woman. The couch trembles under your weight as you rock your hips into her missionary style. She moans as her arms wrap around your neck, pulling your head to her shoulder as her nails dig into your skin.

Considering the lack of a sober mind, it was easy to imagine her as your wife which made you more passionate with your endeavor. You pull back before grabbing her face and smashing your lips to hers, slightly gripping her ears as your cock rubs along her inner walls. Her pussy sucked you in tightly as she bucked her hips against you, meeting the hard thrusts as your pace accelerated.

She kissed back eagerly though the slip of tongue reminded you that she is not who you needed though the person will have to do it. You couldn’t bother to feel guilty as the alcohol takes over your train of thought, this being your only way to gain control of your masculinity once more. As toxic as it was, you were just so desperate. You pull back as you hold the back of her legs up, thrusting before both of you moaned loudly, orgasming as your cum shoots deep inside of her.

Just as you finished, a loud shot rang out right before blood splatters on your front, covering your face. You froze, hands wide open as her legs dropped, eyeing the chunks of human flesh and blood that covered the seat above her neck. Any sign of there being a normal head or face gone as your body trembles seeing the pieces of brain scattered. Blood begins to puddle on the floor as you move back, pulling up your pants and falling off of the seat.

“So you escaped to fuck a random bitch?” Sanzu tsked before walking towards you, gun still in hand. His pink hair sways as he crouches down until he is eye level with you. The scars near his mouth stretch as a toothy smile grows on his face. You tense, ears flat as he brings the end of the gun to your head, tapping gently with each word.

“All ya had to do was let us know you were horny.” He chuckled before pulling the gun back and grin dropping. “Instead, you behaved like a traitor.”

Another presence came behind him as the taller male leaned forward, golden orbs meeting your eyes with disappointment.

“You even lost your collar, Y/n. What a bad boy.” Kazutora shakes his head before snatching the collar of your shirt, forcing you to stand up.

You shiver at the memory of what happened the night you were caught with a woman. They were not happy. The punishment was tortuous and you didn’t think you would survive. Rethinking your idea, you tsked before searching the web, typing on the keyboard of the laptop.

“It’s just porn.” You whisper to yourself. They’d be gone for a while anyway.

Clicking the chosen video, the screen displayed the logo and theme music of the site before playing the actual video. You had chosen a short video so it didn’t take long for you to remove the erection out of your pants and spit in your hand. Slick leaked from your head as you wrapped your fingers around the girth. You begin to slide up and down slowly as the woman on the screen bent over on all fours, the camera showing the angle from the side as the man entered into her. They both moan as you accelerate the motion of your hand.

Desperate you shut your eyes as you listened to her moans, imagining your wife as your grip tightened around your cock, sliding up and down at a steadied speed as your hips slightly buck into your hand. You stop for a moment to rub your thumb along the tip as you place your other hand on the base before the hand holding your cock drops to the base.

You moan as your head falls back, eyes squint as you watch the screen, the couple becoming faster and slightly sloppier with their movements as they desperately move against one another. You buck a little harder against your hand as you slide faster, building the pit in your stomach. Before you release, the grip on the back of the chair causes you to jolt, cum shooting on your own torso as you pant, a grunt escaping.

“What’s this?” You eye the man next to you, his dark orbs boring into the screen before turning his attention to you. You were shaken up, not having expected anyone to be in the building besides the guards.

“P-porn, Master.” His eyes narrow down at you before he straightens his posture, moving to the exit. He paused before taking his leave.

“Strip, Y/n.” Your hands trembled as you hesitate, turning back to look at the dark glare coming your way. Not wanting to test his patience, you comply, tossing your clothes to the floor.

“Crawl.” You lower your body to the ground, tail between your legs with your ears flat against your head. You wanted to cower. You knew this wouldn’t end well.

“Come.” You follow him out of Kokonoi’s room to the bedroom in which you stay when nobody needs your service in their bedroom. Your limp cock hangs under you as you bite your lip in embarrassment. You will never get used to this treatment.

Mikey points to the bed once you reach the center of the room. Some of the executives enter just as you climb on the bed. You sit with your legs hanging off the bed, hands on your lap as you eye them.

“Sanzu.” He states. Said man already understood the assignment, walking towards you before reaching in his pocket and snatching a small bag with a pill in it.

“Open.” He demands, your eyebrows furrowing as you eye the pink pill. Your fingers fidget against your lap as you contemplate what they could be giving you. You jolted before whimpering in pain once he used his free hand to twist your nipple.

“Don’t make me say it again, Y/n.” Your lips fell apart before he placed the substance on your tongue. It dissolves as soon as your saliva touches it.

“This will be a part of your training since you haven’t learned your lesson.” Mikey states, watching as the medicine takes effect.

You begin to feel a heat rising just as a sharp pain shoots through your abdomen. Moisture forms out of your ass and cock as it grows, an ungodly amount of slick beginning to ooze out all at once. Your fingers meet the blanket as your claws pierce through in agony and an overwhelming sense of need.

You couldn’t believe what you were feeling. You’ve never felt anything like this before. All you know is that there’s this yearning to be stretched, full and bred. Similar to how your wife would get during her heat. It was as if you were turning into an omega in heat. Your back drops to the bed as your arms circle around your stomach, repositioning yourself into a fetal position.

“You will learn who you belong to.” Mikey crouched to where his face is in front of yours, watching as the tears stream down your face while a painful tightness forms in your cock.

“You will learn your place.” Rin moved your lower body to place the cock ring around your girth as well as your testicles, drawing a pained groan to escape your mouth.

“Look at you… you were never meant to be an alpha.” You whimper as you feel a pressure behind you against your backside. You attempt to sway your arm to fight back, only to be pinned with your stomach against the bed. The firm wet surface replaced itself back against your anus.

“You’re my bitch.” Mikey hissed just as the toy was shoved into your ass, leaving you no room to adjust as it was pushed all the way to the base. You cry out as it stretches your ass, cock leaking against the bed as you whimper from the pain.

“O-oh… shit!” The toy began to buzz as it stuck deep inside your ass. Tears streamed heavily down your face as the feeling in your stomach grew. Your anal walls tightened around the thick rubber as you looked slightly back to see what was buzzing inside of you.

Kazutora holds your tail up as his hand blocks the toy from slipping out, a smile on his face as you make eye contact through your tears.

“Doesn’t that feel good? Dirty boy.” He teased, pushing against the toy that’s already pressed hard against your prostate.

“Ah…” You breathe out, eyebrows furrowed as your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

“This is who you are.” Mikey says softly, gazing at your heated face and sweat that formed. He uses a hand to caress your head in between your ears.

Your hips move against the bed, aiding in a pressure against your cock as you seek a release. The cock rings are so tight around you. You could barely think properly.

“How filthy. You’re such a desperate little omega aren’t you?” Ran whispers in your ear on the other side of you. You shake your head.

“N-no… I-I’m an alp…!” A harsh smack on your ass caused you to yelp.

“Bad omega. Accept your alphas.” Rin rubbed along the bruise forming from his sharp slap.

The pill that induced a heat from you is making everything more confusing than it needs to be. Their words aren’t helping and it was frustrating. You desperately needed air but the twitching from your cock and stimulation from your ass says otherwise.

“Do you even deserve to cum, puppy?” Sanzu questioned you as he caressed your back.

You gasp in surprise as you’re forced on your back, the buzzing rubber still inside you.

“Awe, look at how swollen you are.” Ran says before gently wrapping his hand around your cock, thumb barely grazing over the tip as your hips buck.

“P-please…” Everything feels so overwhelming, you just wanted to release so you could run away.

“Please what?” You didn’t want to say it. You didn’t want to comply and give in, but did you really have a choice?

“Please, Master.”

“Still don’t know whatcha want.” Ran smirked just as Kazutora pulled the vibrator to the edge of your entrance, drawing a cry out of you. A hand forced you to look to the side.

“Tell me what you want.” Mikey demands, expression stoic though with an intense gaze.

“I-I want to cum, please Master.”

You officially hate yourself.

The tall man lowered his head before lightly gliding his tongue across the head of your throbbing cock. You grunt as Ran’s lips circle around the tip before lowering down your shaft. You thrust once you hit the back of his throat.

“A-ah!” Lips crash against yours as Mikey pulls you in for a deep kiss. Sanzu unhooks your collar before wrapping a hand around your throat, leaning in to nibble your ear.

Kazutora shoves the cock back inside of you, pressing it against your prostate once more as Rin leaves a hickey on your thigh. Just as you near your orgasm, they all pull back at once, leaving your ass empty and cock unattended as well as the rest of your skin.

“He doesn’t deserve to cum.”

“Bad omegas shouldn’t get to release during their heat.”

“Dirty boys should work for their orgasm.”

You cry out as a thick cock shoves itself all the way inside your ass, immediately slamming against your prostate.

Blonde and black hair drapes over you as Kazutora grinds his hips against you, holding your legs up as he pulls back before bucking into you again. You moan out like an omega who’s been stretched by an alpha for the first time.

“Look at how he’s taking it.”

“Such a slutty omega.”

“All those tears for what? You love this shit.”

“Dirty boy.”

Their words were just as overwhelming as the cock hitting your prostate, sliding in and out of your anal walls as it stretched you full. Your cock twitched as Kazutora grabbed your girth, squeezing slightly before rubbing with the thrusts.

“You better not cum.” Mikey said to you from the side.

“Only good omegas deserve to nut.” Sanzu hissed in your other ear.

“Ah, shit.” Kazutora whispers as his head falls back, releasing your cock before putting your legs over his shoulders and leaning over, gaining better access as he grinds against you.

“F-fuck yeah, baby.” His mouth hangs open as he thoroughly thrusts into you for his own pleasure, not bothering to hold back as he nears his release.

“He’s taking it like a whore.” Rin smirked as he watched your face morph in pleasure, the substance completely clouding your mind as you took Kazutora’s thrusts.

“Of course he is. He was made for this.” Ran states as Kazutora reaches his release with a loud groan, grinding out his orgasm as you desperately buck against him for your own, though nothing comes out which causes another intense pain in your abdomen.

Pulling out, slick fell once more. You release a pained cry as they all step back.

“Please…” You cry.

“Take this as a lesson, Y/n.” Mikey says as the executives begin to walk out of the room, chuckling about your suffering as Mikey turns to look at you once more before taking his leave.

“You’re always going to be my bitch.”

[endless-ineffabilities]

le marquis et le moineau - first dance

Marquis de Gramont x f!reader

synopsis: one of several short stories, set up as a prequel to this oneshot of le marquis et le moineau. This is set in the early days, depicting the beginning of what would turn into a dangerous mutual infatuation.

more of moineau: le marquis et le moineau ▪︎ (ill)fated ▪︎ other works

themes/warnings: slow burn, mentions of violence (it's the John Wick universe ofc), language, the Marquis is a manipulative asshole (to be fair, so is the reader) so don't expect a gooey romance!

The dinner was not what you expected.

First of all, you are surprised that you are actually enjoying yourself. Of all things to find pleasure in, you did not think it would be this - sitting across the man regarded as the most stupidly imperious beanpole in your profession.

Well, no one has ever called him a beanpole, but you think it appropriate. So pompous beanpole it is. He towered over everything- the fucking giant - blocking your line of sight when you had followed him into the dining room.

Why did you follow him? It might have been fear for your head, deferrence to who is currently the most important guest in the Continental. But with how it's going now, you think that you would have agreed regardless.

Maybe it's the way simply being there feels like there's a hundred mini electric shocks going through your body, like you're on high alert the whole time. His eyes would rake over you as the two of you converse, scrutinizing, and you would return the favour.

It's strange, for someone already living in a highly demanding and dangerous world, to take particular notice of any thrill. It is constant, akin to breathing.

But this... why does this feel different?

"Do I have something on my face?" you hear him ask, the ego practically jumping out of his voice. Connard. He smirks at how you seem to have been staring at him for quite a while.

"Well, I noticed this little wrinkle you have between your eyebrows," you make a little gesture, and his expression sours a bit, but he doesn't look convinced. "It's a lot similar to what Winston has, which is strange since he is ahead in his years."

I spaced out, asshole, you wanted to say instead. Why the hell would I be looking at your face?

That's a lie. He's a sight, and he knows it. You know it. The thing, he never has to know that you know.

Or, something like that.

He prattles on, yet another probing question bubbling from his lips. "From everything you've said, it does not look to me as if you are satisfied with your position. Am I correct?"

"Not satisfied? Marquis, I am exactly where I want to be, doing what I want to do - "

"And what is that, hmm? Being an apprentice? Waiting on the guests of this fine establishment? Always at their beck and call like some... " He pauses, although he's well aware of what he means.

"Some what?" you say, keeping your tone civil through gritted teeth.

He appraises you, wondering why he is hesitant in dealing the final blow, and simply hurling the insult as he usually does. You are nothing to him, after all, are you not?

But no. If he is to use you - and this option is growing on him - he must stay on your good side. It would help in making you more pliable to his demands.

You straighten, after you're sure that he would go no further, taking a sip of your wine, "Why, Marquis, I didn't think you would be so... considerate."

He sneers, "I can be all kinds of nice to you, ma belle, if you please me well enough."

Ma belle. From any normal, warm-blooded admirer, the words can invoke amusement or gratitude. Maybe embarrassment at the other person's audacity, in your perspective. But from him? The coil in your stomach that unfurled brought forth a weird sensation of warmth, despite your job-mandated emotional regulation training.

More understandably, it raised your suspicion. What does he want? Is he just being... well, French?

"On behalf of the Continental, consider it our mission to ensure that you remain pleased throughout your stay," you recite like an AI automation, in an attempt to appear unaffected.

He titters, shaking his head, "Be that as it may, I only require you."

"M-me?" Smooth. Real smooth, super spy.

"Your services," he elucidates, basking in your surprise. "I would like to take you into my employ. I think you have immense potential."

"I don't think I understand."

He rolls his eyes, frustrated at how slow he thinks you're being. "You may just be a baby receptionist - "

You scowl at that, "Assistant to the Concierge, actually."

The prat ignores you, " - but you're a baby receptionist at the Continental New York. You have considerable training, and from your background, it is clear that you're plenty accustomed to this life."

"What do you need me for? I'm sure you have an array of specialists at your disposal. I happen to know of someone who can do anything you require. John Wick is - "

He scoffs, his eyes glinting in amusement, "I am not too inclined to assign John Wick as my date to the most important gala in Paris."

"Pardon me? Date?" you blanch.

Again, he makes his trademark insolent expression. Are you deaf, his face practically screams.

"Oui, my date," he gingerly wipes the corner of his mouth with a napkin, and you imagine stuffing his mouth with it so he stops speaking entirely. "You've heard of the Paris ball, have you not?"

"The one held in your honour, every year."

"In my honour," he repeats, disdain lacing his voice. "Around three hundred little ants who claim to respect and admire me. But the thing about ants is... they have the tendency to destroy their queen."

"I see," you exhale, understanding his implication. "So I won't be there to simply be your date."

He tilts his head, "Were you expecting any different?"

Yes.

"No."

He smirks, having pushed you into a corner as planned. "Instead of having some dolt of an heiress or model with me like I normally do, I am choosing to bring you. I thought you would be able to weave your way into the crowd, sort out which ones are the little rats and report back to me. No one would suspect you because they would think you're just there to look pretty."

He sure has a way of being flattering and demeaning at the same time.

"Why can't your men do that job?" you challenge him. Your answer is nearly fully formed in your mind, for various reasons, but if there is a way out of this, you'll take it as a sign to bow out for your own good. "I'm sure you don't need to go through all this subtlety. Pick out the bad weeds and crush them underneath your polished boot, as you do."

"My dear, we are not animals. I prefer to move with a bit more finesse than my lowly counterparts."

Finesse? Or is he just unwilling to get his hands dirty? To wade into the murky waters among the sharks?

"Besides," he stands, walking slowly until he reaches you. He casts a shadow over the table as he stops behind your chair. When he speaks again, he has stooped so low you can feel his breath on the nape of your neck. "You need me. I am offerring you an opportunity to advance quickly in our world. Do me this favour and there is no one who will dare doubt your potential."

When you twist around to look at him, he is close. Too close. There is an almost sadistic glint in his blue eyes, a mark of someone who is used to getting what he wants.

You nod, once, expecting him to back away after that. Instead, he leans even closer, his eyes never leaving yours. You clock him raising a hand to your face in your peripheral vision, "What are you doing?"

He sighs in annoyance, and his fingers graze your jaw. He makes a condescending tsk noise, before saying, "If you're going to be my date, you have to be comfortable with being close to me. I will have to touch you, you know."

Prick.

Why are his eyes so goddamn blue?

Asshole.

"Of course," is all you mumble after a while.

It is as if he decides that he's done with you after that, stepping back, and gesturing to the hall with a noncommittal "Off you go."

"Thank you for dinner," you say, but he does not even care to look at you. "Do let us know if you need anything else."

You confidently walk to the entrance of his penthouse suite, head held high as you pass by his lackeys and associates. Thinking that the Marquis stayed behind in the dining room, goosebumps erupt on your skin when he says your name, and he is right behind you.

Before you can wonder why on earth he would see you out himself, he rubs his thumb momentarily in the space between your eyebrows, smirking.

"Oh would you look at that," he teases, "you have that little wrinkle too."

You notice how his accent is more pronounced when he is relaxed, in this case when he is making fun of you.

"Mmm," you smile sarcastically, and the glee on his face deepens.

"À bientôt, petit moineau," he says in finality.

There it is again, and you're resolved to find out what that means.

"Be seeing you."

Here I thought I ran out of juice for this story, but then...

[xjulixred45x]

If you don't mind me can I request male reader who like Akaza from Demon slayer with the Hazbin Hotel.

Bonus: respect woman.

Hello! Normally i would Say no bc My Requests are Closed but you're lucky that i'm in a good mood to write and also i am a fan of this Man✨ 😭

Thanks for the Request ❤️

(to the other Readers, don't take this as something usual, the Requests are still Closed, i'm just in the mood to write THIS for now)

Akaza! Reader in Hazbin Hotel

Genre: headcanons

Reader: male

Warnings: Reader is a fighter, violence(?), hell, slight change in Akaza story so its not a Copy-paste and make "more sense",idk, I MAKE THIS IN A RUSH OF ✨INSPIRATION✨SO ITS NOT PROFFHEAD!!

You were born and raised in the Edo era, in Japan. and it was a nightmare.

You lived in poverty all your life, practically alone with your sick father who could barely take care of himself, but he always tried to take care of you above all else.

You spent a lot of your life trying to take care of him back, but it was difficult because of money, you couldn't afford it. so you did the only thing you could think of: steal medicine.

Obviously many times this didn't turn out well, and they ended up catching you and taking you to be beaten and tattooed like a criminal, but it was the kind of life you led until your father died.

That was when you hit rock bottom, but you met certain people who helped you move forward. a martial arts master and his sick daughter (who reminded you a lot of your father).

And it was the time when you lived better, you took care of your teacher's daughter and you learned from him, you had a good life.

you and his daughter even fell in love!

everything had fallen into place in your life...

until conflicts broke out again.

You don't remember much about your last days of life, it was a cycle of going, killing whoever got in your way, returning with whatever you wanted from your group, and whatever followed...

You just wanted to go home.

but you died before that.

and just as you expected, after everything you had done wrong in your life, you ended up in hell.

It wasn't exactly like the hell you had imagined growing up, but it was definitely difficult to adjust, knowing that you were dead, in this hole of misery, far from them...

but you didn't waste your time. You discovered quite quickly that several of your physical abilities had stayed with you, so you took advantage of them and became a quite formidable demon.

You wouldn't say you were an Overlord, but you were definitely an anomaly to Hell's QUO status, a demon who had become powerful without the need for owning souls.

something very strange.

so many Overlords, feeling threatened, tried to go after you, only to never be seen again...

As for the Hotel issue, I think that Akaza! reader would be skeptical, I don't think he would have a problem offering himself as a test subject for the hotel because 1- there is Alastor, someone very strong, and 2- he has a small hope that the hotel will work and maybe, just maybe he can redeem himself and go. to heaven with his love and his teacher, what he loves most. although he wouldn't say the last thing out loud.

Speaking of relationships, Alastor and him can actually get along in a very ambiguous way, Alastor is not happy with someone who is so strong without even having souls of their own, so he is cautious, but not in a threatening way.

Although there is something these two have in common, THEY RESPECT WOMEN.

Alastor can definitely introduce him to Akaza! read several of his female friends to be more "social" and get possible blackmail material.

Alastor secretly knows of the possible motives behind why Akaza! Reader would like the hotel to work, he thinks he is naive, but he doesn't make fun, Alastor partly understands why he feels that way. leaves him alone in that sense.

...but it bothers him in every other way! using it as an armrest, innocuous phrases, crushing it with things out of nowhere, etc. He always has something up his sleeve to piss him off.

but they can ally if women get involved ;)

Charlie is so so so so so happy to have Akaza! reader as another participant alongside Angel and Sir Pentious! She constantly thanks him for his collaboration and tells him how much it means to her.

Lots of encouragement during the trust exercises! she realizes that Akaza! Reader is not very talkative, and although she does not force him to change, she "subtly" encourages him to be more open with the exercises.

Although that does not mean that she admits the fights, she tries to encourage Akaza! reader to find another way to get out his anger and energy in less destructive ways.

I think she would be the only one who knows through Akaza! reader why he wants the hotel to work, and she is SO MOVED by him because Reader wants to redeem himself and that gives him a lot of motivation to do more exercises.

Even if is sometimes a double-edged sword because she feels pressured not only by wanting to help her friends, but also by Akaza's cute motive! reader.

Akaza! reader is very protective of Charlie even if she is the princess of hell, he is like a bodyguard! or a very loyal pitbull. Charlie finds it endearing (but please don't rip that demon's head off please---)

Vaggie is scared of Akaza at first! reader for his aggressive nature.

She is afraid that he will end up directing that destructive energy towards them if he is very angry, so she is very cautious at first.

but eventually she can relax more and more with him as she realizes that (at least with women) he's not going to explode on anyone who doesn't deserve it. and that in fact he is a good man.

sparring together! Vaggie feels kind of bad that he doesn't have a gun, but is surprised at how tough he is.

If she finds out his reason behind going to the hotel, she supports him a lot in his journey of redemption, more than before, she empathizes with him.

They both have similar motives.

Vaggie really appreciates when Akaza! reader defends the female staff against Angel's out-of-place comments. she may even allow him to hit him.

You two are the main people in charge of protecting the hotel.

Let's be honest, Angel dust at first was just "flirting"/sexually harassing Akaza! reader until he beat him up and never did it again.

He thought he was simply bitter about life until he remembered that on one occasion he told him that "he was taken" and he didn't take it so personally.

After the duet with Husk, he went directly to apologize to him and they were on bad terms.

Angel occasionally likes to prank him like everyone else in the hotel, but he's considerably less annoying with Akaza! reader because he knows what he is capable of.

When he eventually finds out why he is "taken" and why someone like him is in the hotel, he can't help but empathize with him a lot (from his sister in heaven), and tries to be his "Husk" at his lowest moment. .

Even if technically Akaza!reader is stronger than him in every way, he takes care of him in his own way, watching his drink, not being robbed, etc.

Angel is definitely not used to so much respect when it comes to his gender identity, which is why he respects Akaza a lot! reader.

They generally start off on the wrong foot but manage to be friends.

Husk likes Akaza! reader, simply because it gets on Alastor's nerves and because he knows that he won't kick the ass of someone who doesn't deserve it. He knows everyone is safe with him.

He definitely knows about his reason for being in the hotel and pities him, respects his privacy a lot after that and doesn't let him talk drunk.

Husk may get to have his "loser baby" moment with Akaza! reader but in a platonic way, helping him when it is especially difficult to stay away from violence.

They can even have a father-son relationship, Husk is very similar to Akaza's teacher! reader in many ways EMOTIONALLY SPEAKING so Akaza! reader feels comfortable with him.

she definitely tells him things about her past as Overlord to entertain him.

Sir Pentious at first was TERRIFIED of Akaza!reader, his reputation was as a tough guy who went after evil people and Pentious (having his poor self-image) thought he would kill him as soon as he saw him.

but fortunately it was not like that!

but he was definitely avoiding it for DAYS before he heard from the others that Akaza!reader wasn't that bad and was actually quite nice. to give him a chance.

and Pentious did just that. and he was VERY surprised.

Akaza! reader has had to dismantle several of Sir Pentious's evil machines using his enormous strength, and although Pentious was heartbroken to see his machines destroyed, he was also VERY surprised by Akaza!reader's capabilities, even giving me more things to do. break and test their strength (imagine this pair getting to know the Rage Rooms).

Pentious Minnions occasionally go to Akaza! reader when P. is not there, which is fun to see because Akaza!reader would try to get away from the Minions that come after him like ducks.

Akaza! reader clearly notices Pentious's crush on Cherri, and encourages him to do something now that he has time.

(Can you imagine Akaza! reader's Koyuki becoming friends with Pentious in heaven? It would be Epico).

Mononeuronal pair.

Niffty is strange.

but I can definitely see Akaza! reader protecting it constantly. so Niffty likes him. But I wouldn't really say they are friends.

In general, everyone has some kind of respect for Akaza! reader. They hope you can reach your goal.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

Again, this DOES NOT MEAN that orders are open again! I'm just taking a break and deciding what things to write and what not to. thanks for the request ✨❤️

[tacroyy]

losing my shit about the two times vimes gets slapped by a woman in the guards books (night watch and snuff; spoilers for both below). terry pratchett is completely goddamn brilliant.

both times, it's near enough to the beginning of the plot that vimes is partially convinced he doesn't know what's going on and is still information gathering (so, working a little on autopilot, although thoughts are starting to coalesce). the women he encounters show up after a watershed moment—major transformative plot points on both occasions—and both help him and help move the narrative along with the information they provide. and this is my favorite detail—he's tired both times, too, and just needs to think, because of the amount of new information he's processing.

from night watch:

"I think perhaps I lost my memory when I was attacked," he said. That sounded good, he thought. What he really needed now was somewhere quiet, to think.

"Really? Perhaps I'm the Queen of Hersheba," said Rosie [Palm]. "Just remember, kind sir. I'm not doing this because I'm interested in you, although I'd admit to a macabre fascination about how long you're going to survive. If it hadn't been a cold wet night I'd have left you in the road. I'm a working girl, and I don't need trouble. But you look like a man who can lay his hands on a few dollars, and there will be a bill."

"I'll leave the money on the dressing table," said Vimes.

The slap in the face knocked him against the wall. /end quote

and from snuff:

She [Felicity Beedle] turned to Vimes. "It would seem, commander, that providence has brought you here in time to solve the murder of the goblin girl, who was an excellent pupil. I came up here as soon as I heard, but the goblins are used to undeserved and casual death. I"ll walk with you to the entrance, and then I've got a class to teach."

Vimes tugged at Feeny to make him keep up as they followed Miss Beedle and her charge toward the surface and blessed fresh air. He wondered what had become of the corpse. What did they do with their dead? Bury them, eat them, throw them on the midden? Or was he just not thinking right, a thought which itself had been knocking at his brain for some time. Without thinking, he said, "What else do you teach them, Miss Beedle? To be better citizens?"

The slap caught him on the chin, probably because even in her anger Miss Beedle realized that he still had his steel helmet on. /end quote

vimes makes mistakes. he makes mistakes all the time, and he knows this, and pays attention to them. vimes spends a lot of time thinking about thinking (engaging in productive, internally motivated metacognition well within his zone of proximal development, my master's in teaching insists i say). he thinks about his thinking, and he thinks about other people's thinking through the lens of his own.

in both instances, vimes is coming to realizations about the true nature of things.

in night watch, this would initially seem to be more surface than deep: he's getting to physical grips with exactly when and where (and who) in the past he is; he's learning the ground, mapping, figuring things out—but vimes is also trying to settle himself back in to what he knows, and what society is in these different times, to see if that fits. plotwise, in vimes's present, the seamstresses have a guild, rights, safety, standards, rules, regulations, and even societal respect—although certainly not close to what they deserve, it's much more than what they had before vetinari made their guild a reality. but in the past, where vimes is now, the seamstresses don't have this level of security, and are subject to violence (although it is shown to be societal and legal violence [being arrested for working during their profession's peak, etc] rather than interpersonal or sexual violence [the agony aunts exist and, it is clearly stated, dispense the same justice that they do in the future, specifically to individual clients rather than to larger institutional structures]).

so, when vimes puts down rosie by making a disparaging joke about her profession—oh, you're actually not important to me or to men or to society at all; your labor is not to be respected; i got what i needed from you and will of course pay you, but in the most insulting way possible—he's not only communicating what society thinks, but a moral issue of the novel as well. night watch, after all, is about revolution: who gets to be in power, and who gets to control who gets to be in power? it's frankly revolutionary for pratchett, a mainstream english author, to treat sex workers and sex work as positively as he does (of course, his depictions are not without flaws). he makes it clear that, after all, shouldn't we view sex work as physical labor? isn't it true that anyone who is employed is engaging in physical labor? how is a seamstress really different from a "seamstress"? (it's the power dynamics and misogyny standard to western/european/american/christian society: women and sex must be controlled by the patriarchial majority, kept small and afraid and in chains.) pratchett legitimizes the seamstresses in vimes's present. in vetinari's ankh-morpork, the seamstresses have just as much power as the merchants, the armorers, the assassins—and vimes knows this, but he did grow up in the past he's in now.

in snuff, vimes's approaching anagnorisis is more obviously manifested. brilliantly, pratchett begins vimes's encounter with the goblins by talking about vimes's childhood teacher, mistress slightly, who "taught [him] how not to be afraid" and made him blackboard monitor, "the first time anyone had entrusted him with anything;" vimes thinks he'll put a bag of peppermints on her grave if he gets out of this alive. all positive, and in fact clearly transformative, praise from our hero. but vimes is in a goblin cave, and pratchett has brought up mistress slightly because vimes is remembering his first (educational, not physical) encounter with goblins. this paragraph is worth quoting in full:

"[Mistress Slightly] had one book in her tiny sitting room, and the first time she had given it to young Sam Vimes to read he had got as far as page seven when he froze. The page showed a goblin: the jolly goblin, according to the text. Was it laughing, was it scowling, was it hungry, was it about to bite your head off? Young Sam Vimes hadn't waited to find out and had spent the rest of the morning under a chair. These days he excused himself by remembering that most of the other kids felt the same way. When it came to the innocence of childhood, adults often got it wrong. In any case, she had sat him on her always slightly damp knee after class and made him really look at the goblin. It was made of lots of dots! Tiny dots, if you looked closely. The closer you looked at the goblin the more it wasn't there. Stare it down and it lost all its power to frighten. 'I hear that they are wretched, badly made mortals,' the dame had said sadly. 'Half-finished folk, or so I hear. It's only a blessing this one had something to be jolly about.'"

a near-perfect depiction, unfortunately, of the educational experience. encounter something that scares you and makes you uncomfortable, examine it with the help of a pedagogist, examine it on your own, take it apart so that you are not afraid anymore, and instead understand what it is and how it is made: that's the experience from the first word of the quote all the way until "Stare it down and lost all its power to frighten." and then, a heel-turn: your teacher shows that they completely misunderstood the lesson they were teaching—and that you, the child, understood both parts of the lesson perfectly: you absorbed the critical thinking skills and that this existing societal prejudice is, in fact, totally correct and should not be examined using the skills you just learned.

thus, pratchett has vimes, our hero, our moral center, spout the violent, ingrained, dehumanizing, incitement-to-genocide nonsense of the society in which he has been formed. vimes does this tiredly, without thinking, without making the connection between how things are and how they ought to be, missing the direct relationship of that required moral reevaluation to the case and situation at hand. and pratchett throws that directly back in vimes's face, physically. both times, pratchett says: even if you're tired, even if there's shit going down, even if your worldview is being turned upside down, even if you're in the dead middle of processing everything you've so recently learned, you cannot make the mistake of dehumanization/depersonalization. and you, of all people, have to know that, vimes. not one drop of alcohol passes your lips, not one minute after six goes by without you reading to your son, not one arrestee is subjected to even small or casual police brutality. and not one person—seamstress or goblin—is to be insulted and discriminated against and excluded from deserving to live. to do so, to make that mistake even once, is to face the immediate physical consequences of it from someone deeply and fundamentally in the know. you need the sense smacked into you.

from night watch:

"Consider that a sign of my complete lack of a sense of humor, will you?" said Rosie, shaking some life back into her hand.

"I'm... sorry," said Vimes. "I didn't mean to... I mean... look, thak you for everything. I mean it. But this is not being a good night."

"Yes, I can see that."

"It's worse than you think. Believe me."

"We all have our troubles. Believe me," said Rosie. /end quote.

from snuff:

It was a corker, nonetheless, and out of the corner of his stinging gaze he saw Feeny take a step back. At least the boy had some sense.

"You are the gods' own fool, Commander Vimes! No, I'm not teaching them to be fake humans, I'm teaching them how to be goblins, clever goblins! Do you know that they have only five names for colors? Even trolls have around sixty, and a lot more than that if they find a paint salesman! Does this mean goblins are stupid? No, they have a vast number of names for things that even poets haven't come up with, for things like the colors shift and change, the melting of one hue into another. They have single words for the most complicated of feelings; I know about two hundred of them, I think, and I'm sure there are a lot more! What you may think are grunts and growls and snarls are in fact carrying vast amounts of information! They're like an iceberg, commander: most of them is where you can't see or understand, and I'm teaching Tears of the Mushroom and some of her friends so that they may be able to speak to people like you, who think they are dumb. And do you know what, commander? There isn't much time! They're being slaughtered! It's not called that, of course, but slaughter is how it ends, because they're just dumb nuisances, you see. Why don't you ask Mr. Upshot what happened to the rest of the goblins three years ago, Commander Vimes?"

And with that, Miss Beedle turned on her heel and disappeared down into the darkness of the cave with Tears of the Mushroom bobbing along behind her, leaving Vimes to walk the last few yards out into the glorious light. /end quote.

[chronicbeans]

okay hear me out on the yandere stardew valley…sebastian? or shane? 🫣

How about option 3?: BOTH!

Yandere Sebastian and Yandere Shane Headcanons (Separate):

TW: Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Alcoholism, Suicidal Thoughts, Stalking, Noncon Photo Taking, Implied Violence/Murder

Sebastian:

He most likely took some time to fall for you. He's a natural loner, with only a few friends in town. That isn't to say he is rude. He just has a bit of a shell you have to break through to get his attention, and as shallow as it sounds, your appearance can really help. He believes a person's clothing style or aesthetic can say a lot about themselves. If you have a very bombastic and out there style, he believes you have a higher chance of getting along with him. You would seem to be more open about who you are, which is something he likes in people.

Once you catch his attention, you have it completely. He slowly feels himself falling in love with you. From the strange little quirks you have, shared interests with him, differing interests... You teach him so many things about the city, random fandoms you find online, aesthetics, whatever your interests are. The love he feels slowly turns to an obsession. So slowly, in fact, that he doesn't realize that it has become unhealthy. He thinks that it is still as normal and wholesome as it was when it began.

You will barely notice him following you around, taking photos, and leaving presents for you on your doorstep. Pelican Town is a relatively small area compared to the city. You simply think it makes sense that you would keep meeting with him. For the pictures, you just think he is trying to take pictures of the scenery, trying out a new hobbie. You don't ever see him leaving the gifts, though, and they make you a bit uncomfortable. You never told anybody about the interests contained in those gifts. Be it a cookbook, new album from your favorite band, or maybe a new sword for fighting, you know for sure you never let people know you were interested in that. You find those interests too embarrassing to share.

The next thing you know, your friends seem to avoid you. Harvey makes his check ups quicker. Pierre gives you large discounts on every item. Even Gus keeps each conversation short, to the point, and lets you know about this brand new discount for you and only you! You don't know what is going on, but at least Sebastian has stayed by your side through everything...

Shane:

You were a pest, at first. He just wanted to be left alone. At least, that's what he always told himself. He doesn't know when his views on you changed, but it did. Maybe it was because you stuck by him, even when he was actively trying to drive you away? Maybe it was how you treated him so kindly, despite his rude behavior towards you? Maybe he just always secretly wanted someone to keep pushing him to be better...

His obsession truly begins once you see him in Cindersnap Forest, lying by the cliff and ready to let himself fall. He doesn't remember much about what actually happened when he woke up in Harvey's clinic, but Harvey gave him the rundown. You were worried, you helped him get to the hospital, you stayed for a bit to make sure he was fine. The next day, when he went to tell you he was going to counseling, you gave him encouragement. You mentioned how concerned you were that night, told him how you were so happy he was still here, and even gave a few small tips you heard on how to distract yourself when you have the urge to relapse. You believed in him, even when he gave up on himself. You don't treat him like a burden, instead trying to help him become the best version of himself he can be. He loves you for that.

Although he is an atheist, that doesn't mean he can't worship you, in his own way. He may not believe in angels, but he feels like you are the closest the world will get to one. After that night, he makes sure to go out of his way to speak to you. Even while working at Joja Mart, he will begin to talk to you as he stocks the shelves, cleans the floors, and does whatever he needs. He constantly visits your farm with gifts, asking if he could come inside and hang out. He says things like "Talking to you helps me distract myself when I feel the urge to drink. You gave me that tip, right? I found it useful." or "I just feel a bit lonely today. I feel most comfortable talking to you, so I was wondering if I could visit your place? You've already seen mine." Really, though, he just couldn't get you out of his head.

He is... slightly aware that these feelings aren't normal. He goes to counseling, after all. He has mentioned you and how he feels towards you, only for his counselor to reply with concern at how strong those feeling were and how they seemed obsessive. He throws those concerns to the side, however, and goes about his days like it is normal. You are his anchor. His light. His will to live, really. He needs you to be happy with him in order for himself to be happy. He can't have anybody else take you away, or else he'd have nothing! He would never use these feelings against you, however. Far from it. He wants you to not feel pressured to be with him. That wouldn't be right. You never pressured him to get better, so why would he pressure you in any way? You encouraged him, gave him tips, and showed your support for him. As such, he'd do the same for you, hoping you would feel just as strongly about him as he does you.

Anybody who gets in the way, however, could rot for all he cares. It wouldn't hurt to get rid of a few of them, right?

[edoro]

thinking about this post again, and what malewifesband points out in the reblogs about Mithrun's violence towards Thistle vs his violence towards the shadow governor

i hadn't made that comparison myself before, but it truly is such a striking difference, and because Thistle is my special little guy i've been mulling over it

i think it's interesting that Mithrun's behavior towards Thistle is not only violent and frightening but outright cruel in a way that he isn't even with Marcille

(which is not to say that he isn't violent, frightening, and shitty to her - the whole bit where he catches her out in a lie and then the canaries sit around shit-talking her mom and the fact that she's a half-elf is very bigoted and unpleasant!)

he scares the absolute shit out of Marcille, but his violence is very single-minded and directed. first, he's trying to get the books off her. then, he's trying to kill her.

with Thistle... it almost feels like Mithrun is toying with him. take a chunk out of his arm so he drops the book. take a chunk out of his thigh when he tries to run and grab it. chokeslam him to the ground and get on top of him and say The Cruelest Possible Shit to him after tormenting him physically like a cat with a bird.

now of course, we can justify. he didn't want to risk killing Thistle outright (although then we get into the questionable territory of "would being sent to the surface kill him anyway?" since he says the dungeon lord has their lifespan extended by the dungeon, and that teleporting Thistle to the surface would confirm if he is or isn't the dungeon lord), or he can't be so precise when he isn't able to touch someone and he's using his magic on them from a distance, especially with his lack of depth perception or whatever, you know

he hurts Thistle, who comes across like someone who's not used to experiencing a lot of physical pain, and then he tells him that the person he's dedicated himself to is dead, there's no point to continuing, and that the most cherished person in his life wished for his death

i do think that Mithrun, on some level, genuinely does want to prevent other people from suffering his fate, whether that means preventing them from becoming the dungeon lord in the first place or convincing them to give it up before they're devoured and left alive but empty. however, i also think (thanks to talking with @schniggles) that on a much deeper, more viscerally subconscious level, he wants to be eaten, and when those two desires come into conflict, the desire to die is stronger and results in what can at best be described as half-assery and at worst is outright self-sabotage

he tells Thistle there's no point to what he's doing and that it's time for him to free himself. charitably, one can imagine that he sees his words as the equivalent of a brisk slap to the face to snap Thistle out of his dungeon lord hysteria. but the thing about Mithrun is that it's not that he doesn't understand social conventions or other people's feelings, he just doesn't care

he didn't suddenly forget the concept of being nice or being cruel, or what it means to hurt someone's feelings. he just doesn't give a shit. it's not important to him. he lacks the desire to even make the effort for appearance's sake.

it's not like he doesn't know that telling the Melinis' elf slave that Delgal is dead, he never said what Thistle says he did and Thistle just misunderstood, and that Delgal wished for Thistle's death is going to fuck Thistle up. he doesn't care about how badly it hurts and he either hopes that the pain will make Thistle stop resisting or that hurting and tormenting Thistle this way will drive him to summon the demon. possibly (probably) both.

i don't really have much of a thesis statement here, just i guess an exploration of my thoughts... Mithrun is deeply cruel to Thistle and it's quite easy to imagine that part of this is because he knows Thistle has no status and no powerful friends, that he feels no need to even pretend to treat Thistle as a person... one could also easily imagine that it's because he's trying to provoke Thistle into summoning the demon, and one could ALSO easily imagine that there's an element of self-loathing to it, that in a sense he's punishing Thistle for his own past

[sugairsstuff]

Hi saw you're looking to write stories and was hoping to send some inspiration your way! I am a sucker for "Who did this to you?" Trope and I'm just in need of more Cassian from ACOTAR on this site. So I'm thinking of a little one-shot story of the reader getting hurt by an ex or a family member she doesn't get along with and the General of the Night Court being Angry about it.

Happy Writing! Can't wait to see what you come up with! 😊

thank you very much for being my first request! and i’d be happy to- sorry if i’m a bit rusty- i hope you enjoy how i approached this prompt!

who did this to you.

cassian x fem reader (a court of thorns and roses)

warnings: mentions of abuse, minor descriptions of violence

summary: you run into an ex who wrongfully treated you, and in his pathetic attempts to beg you for forgiveness he injures you. conflicted, you choose not to tell your mate, both suppressing your right to feel emotional and worried for cassian should he go after the male. but your mate knows you like the back of his hand, and you decide to tell the truth before cassian figures it out himself.

(credit to @cafekitsune for the divider)

You stand at the end of one of the House of Wind’s scarlet-wreathed hallways, thinking only of how grateful you are of your dress’ long sleeves as your left hand rubs your opposing wrist- which throbs with the inevitable purpling of a bruise wrapped around it. Although you know your mate adores when you wear pretty jewelry of all kinds, something tells you that seeing this makeshift bracelet your ex-boyfriend gifted you today in the city would only make your mate’s crimson eyes see redder.

Your chest feels heavy, swirling with a flurry of emotions as you root yourself to the end of this hallway. The sounds of your friends’ voices- laughter- from beyond the grand doorway that stood opposing you overpowered the beating of your heart in your ears, though not the flurry in your chest that leaked into your brain, watering the seeds of your feelings and forging them into thoughts.

Your ex, so unimportant his name isn’t even needed, had ran into you accidentally whilst you were browsing a vendor selling handcrafted bookmarks in the city’s local markets. Once you saw him and made to slip into the crowd in an attempt of avoidance, it was too late, as he was already calling out your name in a tone that began in surprise and evolved into frustation. And when you didn’t look back, worried he wanted to pour his heart out to you, beg for another chance after the wicked ways he’d treated you in your past relationship, he wrapped his hand around your right wrist. He tugged you back, ignoring your sharp shout of both warning and shock as the crowd meandered past you without sparing second glances.

You didn’t really pay attention to what he was saying, your mind already in a frenzied panic as his grip only got tighter the more you tried to pull your wrist back to the safety of your side. His pleading, persuasive tone betrayed the vice-like hold he had on your wrist as he tried to force you to hear him out, hear his babbling of apologies and promises ‘to change’ and ‘to be better’.

By the time you had wrenched your wrist free, so desperate to simply get out of there, your response you threw at him was only a brief shout to leave you alone that came out more shaky than you were going for. Forgetting all your other leisurely plans for the day, you trekked back to the House of Wind, gripping your aching wrist and blinking tears back as you stared at the ground a few paces ahead of your swiftly moving boots.

So now you stand at the end of this hallway.

Thinking.

While your ex himself is old business, the encounter with him had resurfaced memories with him that left a bad taste in the back of your mouth. But they are old memories, you tell yourself to try and convince yourself there is no need to tell Cassian. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time, the bruise would heal, and Gods above did you not want to send your mate on a warpath with the destination of wherever your ex lives. As much as you wouldn’t mind seeing he who does not deserve a name get what he actually deserves, you didn’t want Cassian paying the consequences for his actions. You nod to yourself in self-assuring confirmation of your decision.

You’re startled out of your head with the sudden worry you’ve been caught standing and staring at nothing like a lunatic. You glance around to ensure no person nor shadow was lurking, exhaling in small relief as you can’t think of a reasonable enough sounding excuse for your current behaviour. Don’t mind me, just contemplating the meaning of life! You scoff to yourself at your own weak joke, and move forwards until you reach the large double doors.

When you enter, familiar faces turn up to greet or smile at you from their places on the lounge room’s velvet sofas.

“There she is. You’re welcome for babysitting your whining mate, believe me when I say he’s been waiting for you the entire time in here to return from your devastatingly long two hour journey into the city.” Rhysand smirks, joking elaborately in a playful jab at his brother, with one of his hands tangled with Feyre’s in her lap- who sat nearly next to him but mostly on top of him.

“We were just wondering where you were.” Feyre jumps in to avoid the brothers getting into a back-and-forth bicker about clinginess. Her blue eyes twinkle like stars as she leans forwards a little, “So, how much did you spend today?” the female grins, looking too much alike to her mate.

You make your way to Cassian’s side immediately, standing next to the large armchair he was sprawled in rather than accepting his soft invites into his lap. He reaches over to you with both a wing and hand, the former brushing your back and the latter reaching to graze against your fingers. Placing a smile on your face comes easy as you look to Feyre, “Hate to disappoint, I only bought fresh ink and a new book.” you tell her, patting the small leather bag that rests against your hip as your excuse to move your hand away from Cassian’s. One small displacement of your sleeve would leave you having explaining to do, which you really would prefer to avoid.

Feyre whines a complaint in how you need to treat yourself more often to luxuries- as if this family hasn’t done that enough for you- before her attention switches to the male sitting below you, “Aw, sorry, Cassian, am I stealing all the attention away from you?” she teases.

You look down at your mate to see the pout on his pretty lips that elicited Feyre’s joke. One look at him, and you can tell him missing your presence wasn’t actually what was bothering him. Instead, his gaze was focused on the hand you had, apparently not subtly enough, moved away from him. Damn you for underestimating how well your mate knows you.

Cassian’s brows furrows ever so slightly as he looks up at you, a few raven black strands falling free from its messily half-tied state, appearing as though he were deeply pondering something. He looks as though he wants to say something, most likely ask why you’re acting oddly, though instead he rises to his feet and his hand lifts to brush not your hand but gently against your cheek.

Grinning, Cassian turns to Feyre and Rhysand, “Well, call me now the thief of the thief,” he shoots back equally as playfully to the High Lady, “I think we’ll be off so I can give my mate a properly informal greeting,” he jests, wiggling his eyebrows and winking at the two as he stole you away using a large, calloused hand centred on the small of your back.

You know better, though, this is simply Cassian’s way of preventing you from being put on the spot in front of two pairs of prying eyes. Cassian led you through the House of Wind’s corridors, pace slowing to make up for your lack of height in comparison to the Illyrian.

“How was your day, baby?” Cassian asks, his tone too soft for your liking right now. He’s testing the waters, you are well aware, both trying to solidify his feeling something was off and see if you are okay.

“It was fine,” you tell him honestly- well, all the parts without your ex in it. You fail to meet Cassian’s eye, afraid that if you do your mate will see right through you and know for certain you are upset. But this response only makes your mate fall quiet for a beat too long, something rare for the extroverted, energetic warlord. You hear Cassian suck in a breath as you turn a corner, and in moments he’s opening the large carved wooden door to your expansive chambers for you.

Cassian kicks the door shut gently before turning to you. You untie your boots and pull them off before he has the chance to offer to do so himself, and give him a chaste kiss on the cheek. To avoid Cassian getting straight to the point and asking if something is amiss, you deflect before anything is sent, “I’m going to go run a bath. The place’s staircase is brutal,” you joke, speaking without thinking as you notice Cassian perk up a tad.

The male looks more relieved in his body language though apprehensiveness lingers in his gaze as he turns to you with a boyish smirk, “Am I invited to that event?” your mate tries.

You know you pause for a second too long as Cassian’s expression falls slightly and he begins to reel back his comment with something with just as much lightheartedness as there was worry for you, “Or shall I leave the lady to her flowery bubblebath and soap?”

You frown and shake your head. “No, no, it’s okay, I want you to come.” Normally, you’d make a sexual joke to lure him in the hot, soapy water with you, but the burden that Cassian will inevitabley discover exactly what is making things not okay in minutes was leaning over you.

“Okay,” is all Cassian responds with, and you inwardly cringe at how clear it is how simultaneously unsure and sure he is that something is bothering you. That heavy feeling in your chest returns, settling back to where it sat in that hallway as now you feel guilty for confusing your mate over such a small, meaningless encounter with a hostile ex. Or so you tell yourself.

It’s as if a tether is attached to that weight in your chest, giving a comforting tug that pulls some of it off of your lungs. You look up to Cassian, knowing that tether was instead that special little string that tied the beautiful bow of your bond. Your mate looks much more serious now as his deep red eyes flicker with concern, though he still speaks softly, “Come on. That bath’s calling our names.”

You stand rather than sit in the large bathroom as Cassian leans over the luxurious tub, hand testing the water as he makes sure it’s set to the temperature you like the most. You make no move to begin undressing, your arms wrapped tightly around you. The bruise no longer throbs as it sits untouched, but you’re still painfully aware of it.

Cassian eventually turns to you, his large wings extending slightly as he approaches you. Seeing as you are still undressed, his hand traces its way around your waist where two of his fingers catch the string of the dress’ corset, “May I?” he asks, though there are no lustful undertones in the warlord’s deep voice, despite him preparing to strip his lover in front of a steaming bath.

You nod up at him, but place a hand on his wrist before he makes a move. Cassian’s gaze flicks to yours immediately. His brows pinch upwards slightly in gentle questioning.

“Just- don’t freak out. Don’t panic. Okay?” you say vaguely, and watch as Cassian’s expression only becomes more worried. “Cassian.” you say, more sternly.

“You’re scaring me here,” he says, your name trailing at the end of his sentence rather than one of his more playful pet names. When you only look up at him with a pleading gaze, Cassian gives in with a sigh, “Okay.”

Your mate commences, tugging the dress loosely ever so gently. You can tell he’s alert as he stands over you, his wings and scent engulfing you as he peels off your day dress. You watch his face closely as he watches your body. Any other day, and you knew what you’d find there- sweet, honey-dripping lust and warm, intimate love as more of your figure is exposed to him. Right now, though, his brow is furrowed, and he’s looking at every inch of your skin, scanning you for what exactly your warning meant.

Cassian gently tugs the sleeves of the dress off of your arm. His crimson gaze looks to your left wrist, and then to your right wrist.

And then Cassian goes rigid.

You never understood how eyes could darken like the ways they were described to in all the books Nesta reads, but watching your mate now- now you fully understand. Leaning over you, eyes unmoving from the splotchy purple markings around your wrist, you watch as lethal anger fills his vision, you see your mate see exactly the colour of his eyes as pure, vicious anger seeps into his blood and runs it cold.

“Who.” Cassian’s voice is low, quiet. You blink at the husky, nearly strangled-sounding word that your mate managed out. “Who did this to you.” he says, his eyes finally meeting yours, and you see that the look in them has changed only slightly- just enough to show you it is far from you that Cassian is angry at.

You look down, your eyes stinging suddenly as tears brim your eyes and you have no idea why. You don’t answer, so Cassian speaks for you, tone low though not harsh towards you, “Was it him?”

You nod, and open your mouth to speak and curse yourself for stumbling over your words, “We ran into each other at the market earlier. He- he grabbed me, Cass, and he wouldn’t let go. I was so scared. I just ran.” you manage, feeling the cool trail of a tear drip down your cheek. The sight of that alone was enough for Cassian.

He curses, stepping back from you as his wings flare. “I am going to kill him. I swear to every God above, he’s a fucking dead male walking.” Cassian growls, both of you having completely forgotten about your planned bath together as he paces the bathroom like a prowling predator, as if he were plotting right now all the ways he’d make that male suffer.

You move towards him then, tears still running down your cheeks as you set your right hand on his arm, feeling how tight and tense the muscles beneath are. “No, Cassian,” you tell him, “you can’t. Don’t go after him, please, Rhysand can’t play favourites no matter what you do to him,” you tell him.

Cassian looks down at you, the fury in his gaze swirling and settling and then slipping away. He sighs, moving his own two hands to cup your cheeks gently. The large male uses his thumbs to brush away your tears. “Okay.” he says, sounding almost reluctant. “But I still can’t let him get away with this. I won’t.” Cassian tells you, his tone stern yet not harsh in an assurance that he would not let this happen to you ever again. He pulls you close to his chest, wrapping both his arms and wings around you, cocooning you in warmth. Cassian strokes your hair, letting you smoosh your cheek against his chest and listen to his slowed, steady heartbeat.

“I’m sorry for freaking out,” Cassian eventually murmurs once your tears have ceased, earning a small snort and then, blissfully, a laugh from you.

“Don’t worry, I just would rather only him being arrested then both of you.” you respond, and now it’s Cassian’s turn to chuckle. He releases you from his anchoring hold. “We can talk to Rhysand tomorrow, yeah? About the political and civil way to get him punished.” Cassian huffs, emphasizing his words in a joke.

You roll your eyes as you finish undressing, “Oh, yes, how very boring.”

Cassian only grins back at you, joining you once you climb into the tub and pulling you back against his chest, one hand interlocking with yours as he frowns momentarily at the bruising. “My idea of killing him is still up for grabs, though,” he hums.

“Cassian.”

[ukranianacearo]

(Doom x reader/mitsuri) 🙏

Can you do it? Please

Mitsuri!reader (wrote with feminins pronouns in mind)

Words: idk 😔

Genre: Fluff (angst at the end)

Tw: just mashle usual type of violence and mention of death, spoilers for KNY

Tag: @futuristiclanddinosaur

Synopsis: Misuri!Reader as Doom's lover

Author's note: I have only watched the first 2 or 3 episodes of KNY... So idk if this is good or bad 😔 I had to do a quick research on more of Mitsuri's character so I could write this better. Sorry for any mistakes and hope you enjoy! More under cut

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♪ | You probably knew each other from the time you got lost in the woods around his house when you both were younger.

♪ | He was surprised that someone as shy and timid as you entered the woods.

♪ | He talked to you a bit and then walked you to the main exit.

♪ | You apologized profoundly about wasting his time and that you would come to see him again with something to thank him for his favor.

♪ | He wasn't all that eager for that and probably thought that you were joking or not being serious, but he also didn't stop you.

♪ | Guy was so stunned when he heard from you again. And you brought him some homemade food (for the sake of the plot let's say you did pancakes) and a self made necklace.

♪ | You were already surprised when he didn't comment on your pink and green hair (you didn't know that he was just blind), but you were even more surprised when he accepted your gift. Although, somehow hesitant, but he accepted them nonetheless.

♪ | After that, you would just go out to those woods to hang out with him. It really didn't bother him much when you came to hang out and he was still training with his sword.

♪ | You actually were exited to see him practice and cheered him for being strong, mentioning that you also have strong physical abilities and that your wand is in your sword too.

♪ | He was intrigued and said that if you wanted to, you could train together some time. Man wanted to see how strong you were

♪ | He was definitely surprised when you could keep up with him. But it was a pleasant surprise nonetheless.

♪ | After that you guys just hanged out a lot, telling stories, training, etc.

♪ | He slowly, but surely, was getting a little big crush on you.

♪ | He loved every aspect of you; your caring and loving attitude towards your friends and family, your dedication to protect others, your fighting techniques, everything.

♪ | Your voice soothed his worries like nothing else.

♪ | Man was so grateful for you, he appreciated that you still were friends with him even after learning who his father is, how much people he had to kill, etc. He was surprised that when you learned that he was blind since birth, instead of being uncomfortable about it, you were even more amazed of his skills.

♪ | Imagine his shock when he learns that you were supposed to be wed with a man you barely knew.

♪ | He was more angry about the fact that the guy always critiqued you, the said guy seemed to have problem with everything you did and had: your hair, the fact that you train (in the guy's words, "that wasn't feminine), your strength, your personality, etc

♪ | He already was pissed enough at your parents for being shitty af, but now they not just allowed, but encouraged their own daughter getting married to a man who does nothing more but critique her? He was ready to add names on the list of people he killed.

♪ | He doesn't do it just because you said there was no need.

♪ | He might never have seen your hair, but he would stand on that it was pretty nonetheless, just like the rest of you.

♪ | He was surprised that one day, when you came to hang out as usual, you were crying. He didn't know how to console you, so he just patted your back and then rubbed circles on it with his hand.

♪ | That was enough to easy your feelings a little bit and eventually you calmed down and told him everything

♪ | You told him that the guy started critiquing you again as always, and at this point you couldn't handle it no more. You were very upset, but didn't want to do anything too dramatic, so you just took the papers that confirmed that you were engaged to him and destroyed them in his face. Then you just walked out the house.

♪ | Doom acted calm about it, but still let you express your feelings freely.

♪ | He knew it wouldn't be the best idea to let you in his house with his crazy siblings and his father, but he also couldn't leave you outside.

♪ | That was when you officially net his family. As a friend thought. Which wasn't Doom's favorite thing, but it wasn't the time to get upset about something like that. And Doom is a patient man, he can wait.

♪ | It probably was chaotic but most didn't pay a mind. Maybe Famine or Delisaster teased Doom, but mostly they didn't care. Innocent zero did say something along the lines of "Don't be carried away from your missions" or "Don't let the girl get to your head, you're just going to delude yourself and the girl". But if it didn't interfere with his plans he wouldn't give a damn. Maybe he'll use you to his advantage thought.

♪ | After some time, you were used to living there and opened up more. Doom was happy to know that you're living better than before, even though you now count as a criminal.

♪ | At some point you just left your hair have it's natural colour and started wearing clothes that you liked and not the ones your family deemed "more important".

♪ | I feel like, when Doom would realize about his feelings he wouldn't know what to do, but would be chill about it

♪ | Mostly, just because he knows that if he let's it shown you'll be in even more da ger than you already are

♪ | And also because he knows that neither Delisaster nor Famine will let him live it down.

♪ | Domina might start to see you as his older sister ngl.

♪ | I think Doom wouldn't be very touchy, but he still would like to have some physical contact. Might pat your head, or put his hand on your lower back, something like that.

♪ | Might at some confess to you, but I think that he won't. Just to keep you safer, I guess.

♪ | If he does confess and you accept him, he'll be very happy and will show it through a small smile.

♪ | Likes to play with your hair. It's so soothing to the touch and long. He likes to run his hand through it (and if he can't, he likes to twirl it or braid it).

♪ | If he confesses, it means that he is certain that no matter what happens, he won't let you die. Even if he has to give his live in exchange and even if it runs against his father's plans. He has respect for his father, but you were the first person to be there for him at all times, through everything, no matter what piece of new information about him you learned.

♪ | Now, if he doesn't confess

♪ | Oh boy

♪ | Regrets not telling you about his feelings when you die on the Eclipse Day.

♪ | You were fighting against an opponent who had an ability that contra attacked yours very good. And while you did defeat that person, you were left with serious injuries that lead to your death. Your two of three braids were cut shoulder length, one of your arms cut off and your leg injured.

♪ | He held you in his arms as you passed away. He didn't want to believe it, but he knew that you didn't have much time. You, too, knew it.

♪ | As your time alive grew shorter, you felt more easy, knowing that you'll die I his arms and not in the arms of the cold wind.

♪ | For the last time, you decided to chat with him. You made sure he promised that whatever he wanted to do next, he had to finish it in time.

♪ | Feeling brave in your last moments, you asked a question that was based off your assumptions.

You cough blood while trying the bravery and the words in you. Doom's big and warm hands held you bridal style as he was standing near the place where you fought the enemy. It felt comfortable, to know you'll pass away in this away: in the hands of the one you love the most, the one who helped you a lot and the one you wanted to see again. Suddenly, Doom felt your hand, that wasn't cut off, cup his cheek gently and weakly, as you had almost no energy already.

- "If we're going to be reborn..." - you started, coughing out a little bit more of blood. - "... Let me be your bride, okay?" - Doom felt his heart sink at your question. How could this feel so beautiful yet tragic? He didn't know, he didn't need to know. Because all he needed is a little more time with you.

- "If you let me have you, I'll find you and marry you in every one of the timelines. No matter how much time it will take me to find you, or how bloodied will be your or my hands, if you just let me be with you... I promise to put a ring around your finger." - Your heart flutters hearing his determined tone. You smile and let a loving sigh leave you mouth as you feel weaker. Doom notices that and his grip on your waist and lege tightens slightly. He doesn't want you to disappear now, and neither do you, but you're both aware that this is your last minute. Your hand let goes of Doom's cheek and slowly fall to your side as you pass away. Doom's heart sinked completely.

♪ | Don't worry, you're later revived with Innocent zero's spell after he got defeated by Mash.

♪ | As you met with Doom again, you couldn't handle the level of your happiness and just started crying while hugging Doom. Doom hugged you back.

♪ | Anyway, happy days in the prison lol <3 Idk how long his sentence is, but if you guys leave the prison after all, he'll be more than happy to spend the rest of your lives together <3

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This is my take on writing Mitsuri!Fem!reader, sorry if it isn't accurate enough 😭 anyway, I hope you enjoyed and bye bye xoxo

[yanderes-galore]

Oooh since you want dark stuff how would yandere Alastor who falls for the reader , deal with love rivals 👀

You know he's planning something horrible.

Yandere! Alastor dealing with rivals

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic (Dubious on true intentions)

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Sadism, Violence, Blood, Murder, Threats, Mentioned torture, Forced companionship/relationship.

You can bet that Alastor doesn't want anyone touching what's his.

He is a demon who knows what he wants... and will get it no matter what it takes.

Honestly, he'd be bad if he didn't own your soul... and even worse if he did.

I mean... we've seen how scary he can get in the show, right?

For example, remember when he was protecting the Hotel?

Yeah....

Except... if he feels someone has wronged him by touching you... then he'll draw things out.

Trust me, Alastor will know if someone had gotten too close to you.

He can almost smell another demon's stink on you.

This concept will focus on general behavior with demons, although with bigger names his approach would be different.

For example, Vox.

The Overlord most likely wouldn't get close to you without Alastor knowing.

For this concept... maybe you have some friends who are lesser demons.

Another thing we've seen is how others act around Alastor.

Y'know... other demons run and hide or just straight up... well... die.

So imagine if you had friends who felt they could be close to you.

Honestly, Alastor tolerated it since they seemed brave enough to stand before him.

Or stupid... it depends.

If you were talking to your friend or a potential partner... Alastor would interrupt.

I think the exchange would be even scarier if he did own your soul.

He acts charismatic as usual.

He pulls you aside and against him, a permanent grin as he greets those around you.

He's oddly charming... even though he's irritated that he has to share what's his with them.

Perhaps to even prove a point he'll summon the chain around your neck.

If that doesn't show ownership... then they're dense.

He's possessive... ears flicking as he introduces himself.

They better know he's an Overlord.

Alastor can do basic intimidation like any other demon, but the fun part to him is more... violent.

Perhaps your "friends" aren't swayed by his presence.

Maybe they actually try to stand up for you.

Maybe they try to court you anyways?

Or maybe someone hurts you...?

Point is, if they haven't died yet, they will.

Alastor sees no issue in a bit of torture.

He's probably done far worse.

A quick death is merciful for those Alastor considers rivals.

However, if you had a lover or someone similarly close... Alastor likes to drag out their fate.

His own intentions with you are dubious at best.

Can't really call him a lover, can't really call him a friend...

Perhaps he's a master? Even then... you can never read him.

Alastor would love to tie a rival down and play with them a bit.

He'd get as bloody as he wants, he'd listen to their screams like it's the radio.

He can only laugh as they beg.

No one messes with the radio demon's things.

They should've cowered away like the rest.

Now they're dead at Alastor's claws, all while he whistles away and prepares to see you again.

When you don't see them again, you aren't dumb.

You have a feeling they've angered Alastor.

If you were close with this person or tried to use them to get away from Alastor... He'd make you listen to their screams.

Alastor enjoys dealing with rivals.

He thrives off their pain, this is the same demon who's kill Overlords after all.

Safe to say... you aren't getting away from Alastor.

No one's going to be able to help you...

Their screams are a warning to behave for Alastor... even if you hate it.

"Oh, Darling! You have new friends~ This'll be fun, won't it~?"