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vintagehellfire · 9 months

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All For Show | E.M

musician!Eddie x showgirl!reader

summary: 1955 New York City, where dreams come true. You get to dance and perform for crowds every night, bringing in good money for yourself and for daddy’s jazz club. The regulars love you, the women envy you, and the musicians are strictly banned from flirting with you (and the other dancers of course). This wasn’t a problem until your father up and coming musician Eddie Munson to perform at his jazz club. Eddie was the first man to catch your eye, and you the first performer to be worth his time, and your fathers wrath.

warnings: implied female reader, mysoginy, eventual smut, swearing, no use of y/n, nudity, drugs, smoking, slow-burn, alcohol, anger issues, controlling father, mentions of assault/implied assault (against reader), 18+ only. mdni

Chapter II: Devil Woman, You’ve Cast Your Spell | 5.2k words

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The utterance of the three simple words had your head reeling, an informality at best, an extension of some private and more intimate privilege at worst. Admittedly, the name suited him far better than the formal nature your father addressed the man in. Nothing about Eddie could be labeled as formal much to your fathers chagrin. His unruly hair, tied up in a crows nest of a bun, little curls falling out from in front of his ears. His button up shirt was a little wrinkled, a product of sweating under the hot lights of the stage, but he wore it so well. He gave the impression that he worked a hard day's labour and was finally given a moment of reprieve. The energy Eddie exuded was nothing if not easy going, the slender cigarette tucked between his index and middle finger, brought gently to kiss the space between his lips. An inhale, a held breath, a gentle exhale, and possibly just the prettiest twists of smoke you might have ever bore witness to. As he drew the cancerous vice away from his mouth, he dropped his arm, sleeves slipping back down to cover his inked arms. And god what you’d do to be held in his arms, tasting his lips.

You bashfully introduced yourself, cheeks heating at the realisation that you’ve been staring at this man for far too long, however it’s not like he hadn’t been taking you in either. The pout to your red lips, your beautiful and wide eyes that were accentuated by a nice little flick of a cat eye, the tail of your eyeliner coming to a point so sharp that he would have thought you took a blade to draw it on. Your perfectly coiffed hair bounced with volume, and your robe left little to the imagination, especially after such a show you had put on. You extended a manicured hand out to the man, and with a small second of hesitation, and an approving nod from your father, Eddie shook your it. As soon as his rough and calloused hand slid into your delicate one, there was a spark that went off, something that made you never want to relinquish the privilege you were just granted. In that same moment, neurons started firing on the musician’s end. His split second thoughts went to insecurity over the contrast that was the delicate nature of your skin versus the used and abused workers hands. There wasn’t a way you should have enjoyed the feeling of sandpaper skin against silk, yet it was of note that his hands were not that of sandpaper, no. They were workers' hands and yet they held a lightness to them, a certain airiness that wasn’t often found in the hands of men.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” You let out, voice casually sultry — your father was simple enough to think it was still the act you were putting on, after all it was good for the reputation of the club if you kept appearances — the reality was much worse, the reality was that Eddie had simple stolen any ounce of breath you held in your lungs. How could he not?

“Likewise, sweetheart.” Breathed out the man with doe eyes. You could have sworn your heart stopped at the pet name, you could have given yourself away had you not been a good enough actress, and yet you tried to remain composed as one of the only men to have been able to capture your attention was so cavalier as to utter such sweet words in front of your father. Your eyes locked onto his, not daring look away because if you did, how were you supposed to memorise the galaxies in his irises and commit them to memory for years to come if you did? How would you live with yourself if you didn’t remember the man that had your breath hitch from the second you spotted him? Your father cleared his throat, interrupting the intense staring contest you and Eddie had gotten yourselves into. Both your hands dropped to your sides at that.

“Now kids,” you father started, “there’s a rehearsal tomorrow, Munson here has got a new song he’s been toying with, haven’t ‘cha, son?” He asks, patting Eddie on the back harshly. That was just how your father was, however; ever intense and without comprehension of other’s personal space.

“Hmm? Oh yeah!” Eddie let out. “It’s this really lovely piece called Pink Pussycat, I think it would be right up your alley, sweetheart.” There it was again, that little pet name. “I’d need to steal you away for a few hours tomorrow afternoon — if that’s alright with your old man of course,” he received a curt nod from your father. “I know it’s last minute but I’d at least like to try.” He lets out, a smile creeping onto his lips. “Besides, how are we to coordinate your dance numbers if you don’t know the songs you’re dancing to?” He asked with a wink, dimples becoming more prominent the wider he smiled. Your heart melted at his words and your eyes slowly trailed down to his perfect lips, his entrancing dimples. You swore he smiled with his whole face, eyes shining with a glint of mischief. You bit your lip as you looked to the floor, providing Eddie with a nod in agreement.

“Alright, pretty boy, you bring up a valid point.” Your lips split into a mischievous grin. Eddie could have sworn his heart leapt into his throat at the casual flirtation, his figure stiffening up. Surely you were like that with everybody, it was a lot easier to tell himself that you were rather than overthink and speculate why you were choosing to lightly flirt with him in the presence of your father. He shook it off and returned a blank expression. He couldn’t let himself feel this way about you, especially with your father owning the club. Your father, who had made it clear that any sort of flirtation or affair was strictly forbidden with you. Eddie couldn’t help but get lost in your words, your eyes, and he couldn’t help maybe get a little lost in the promise that the flirtation hinted at but he was doing his best not to. “Just give me a time and a place, and I’ll be there.” You flashed him your angelic smile, bright red lips tugging at the corners, eyes crinkling with smoothed out crows feet. The musician couldn’t help but crack a smile in return, yours becoming infectious like a disease but he couldn’t help but want more of it.

The following morning you sauntered into the bar, nerves eating you alive with the anticipation that you’d get to see Eddie. Your mind ran itself into the gutter the previous night, tempting you with what you couldn’t have, with what was just under your nose and yet so far away, buried deep in what should have been a bottomless grave. Your father would never allow for such a thing, going steady with a club musician, much less a beatnick jazz musician that played at his club. Your heels clacked on the floor with every confident step you took, heart hammering into your chest as you approached the stage. Daddy wouldn’t be in until at least noon, a shipment of rye coming in rather late for his liking, and so he trusted you to not get into too much trouble. Somehow, trouble always found you.

“Fancy seeing you so early, sweetheart.” The voice mused. You quickly shot your head towards the source, cheeks heating at the pet name. As soon as you laid eyes on Eddie, the sinful cigarette perched upon his bottom lip, a deep inhale, had smoke curling out from his parted mouth. He blew out the blue-grey whisps gently, making sure not to blow the cancerous substance towards you. Not once had you believed that such a habit could be so alluring, and yet here was Eddie Munson, already altering how you saw such mundane everyday habits.

“Thought I’d sneak in some practice time before father gets here. He likes giving some of the morning crowd a show sometimes, but the pressure of him being there as well isn’t always welcome believe it or not.” You admit bashfully. You’d rather not dance for the morning crowd but sometimes it helped to get some practice in front of the regulars. Delores often came in for her coffee and to read the paper, solving the crossword in the company of your father while he made sure to take care of the grime and dishes from the previous night. Harold would come in after a long night shift, as for the on the rocks and down it while he listened to Delores rattle off crossword clues as if it was this morning's news. There was also Gus who would swing by for his coffee and idle chat with father, asking about any up and coming musicians he should keep an eye on.

“Well alright then snake,” Eddie laughed out, “let’s rattle.” A mischievous smile graced his lips as he stubbed out his cigarette. He slid behind the piano that found home up on the stage and he found a sort of solace being behind the instrument. He belonged and it was as if he commanded the piano to play the music. He was its master, not the other way around. He commanded the music, the music didn’t command him and as soon as his fingers brushed against the keys, the rhythm swept you off your feet and you began moving in what seemed like the most natural and sensuous way you knew. You were the perfect example of the music mastering you, guiding you. The music was your partner and you didn’t need anybody but it. Surprisingly, you found yourself longing for a new partner, and he so happened to be across the room, brown pools darting down towards the ivory keys in a hurry, knowing he was caught staring at you.

The theme echoed through the music hall, allowing you to sway your hips slowly to the tune. Without the eyes of those close to you trickling across your figure, you dared approach Eddie, putting on a little performance for him, bending over and dragging your body up along your legs before you flipped your hair back, tossing a look over your shoulder and supplying him with the most suggestive wink. With that you sauntered across the stage making your way down low to your knees, spreading your legs slowly, leaning into the way the music moved you. If Eddie weren’t so dedicated to his job, god he would have lost it there and then. He was sure that he had made some devil angry enough to send this angel to him and forbid him from ever having a taste of heaven. If the world were on his side he’d be up there dancing jive with you, swinging you in his strong arms, if the world were on his side he would have met you before being hired by your fathers club, but the world was rarely on his side. God, the devil, however you wanted to put it, was decidedly against Eddie Munson and so that being the reality he would have to work to tamper his feelings down, beating them to a pulp.

It wasn’t long before you got a routine down, running over it a couple of times before you had gone to change into costume in order to give your father a show of what was to come. He was usually the one to see your routine and cheer you on, and it was his stamp of approval, a little kiss to the forehead, and let you know that it was an exquisite performance. And so that was what you planned to do, you got changed and in the early evening you nudged Eddie to start playing the intro to the song while you shook off your nerves backstage. As the first notes rang through, you stepped out, extending your smooth leg out from behind the velvet curtain, dragging your gloved hand along your thigh, before completely stepping out and slowly taking the lace gloves off, trailing them along your body in a similar fashion that a lover’s hands would. It made Eddie jealous yet there wasn’t anything to be jealous of. They were just a silk fabric after all, not the hands of a patron, a lover, or any man worthy of your time. You made your way up to an empty chair in the front, swinging your legs over it and enacting shoving your gloves in someone’s mouth before harshly pushing away and walking back to the stage, dropping slowly to your knees, spreading your legs out, then tucking them under and rolling, pulling the strings off your robe, allowing it to drop. Another 180° turn and you got up, ass high in the air, exposing your behind, covered in nothing but a lace thong and garter belt, the straps digging into the fat of your ass.

Eddie did not falter in his performance despite his mouth running as dry as the Sahara Desert. His tongue felt heavy, like sand had pooled itself up into his throat and no amount of water could cure this thirst. Of course it wouldn’t for it wasn’t what he was thirsting after, no, his need could only be quenched by something unattainable, something so far out of reach that he would find himself hallucinating before he could even feel a drop of relief on his tongue.

Your exhibition continued on and it seemed your father was happy with the performance to come, and even more so with the confidence the musicians exhumed. Ever since he brought that Munson man on it seemed that everyone was on their best game — it was undeniable — it was a solid choice and he would hope to not regret it. After your little practice you headed backstage to cool off and get ready for the night show, thinking you might be able to get some food and a drink in before the patrons would come in, after all, you needed something of substance. Nerves began to overtake your body, tonight was an important night, Friday nights usually were. The beginning of bender weekends where folks of all kinds of coloured backgrounds would come witness your performances before being invited to perform some of their own gigs. It was more or less an open mic night after your introductory performance — start the night off with a bang and encourage other performers to saunter up into the spotlight. If the music moved you enough you’d often come in for another little dance or two, practically flirting with the music, that’s when the real party started. The beatnicks would always bring a little powder or grass and in combination with the rye your father managed to get his hands on after the prohibition the weekends were a sure fire sock hop.

You slipped your black robe on and pocketed your metal cigarette case before stepping out, door closing softly behind you, the dim light bathing you in a warm glow. You inhale deeply before opting to pull out and light the thin tube of tobacco. You wished deeply that you were taught to roll your own, but that wasn’t very lady-like as your father put it, a phrase you grew to resent over time. You didn’t get very far in your search for sustenance before you bumped into someone’s chest.

“Oh, pardon me!” You exclaimed in surprise, smoke wafting around you. As soon as your eyes made contact with the body, eyes trailing up to meet the stranger’s figure, your mouth ran dry and not from the cigarettes you were smoking. “Oh, Eddie, please excuse me, I didn’t mean to barrel into you.” An unknown heat crept up to your cheeks, it wasn’t embarrassment, no, it was something foreign to you.

“No need to apologise, darling,” He exhaled, a glazed look overtaking his big brown eyes, “I actually wanted to come give you this.” He held out his hands, long fingers curling around a plate of toast, a bowl of roasted tomato soup sitting on top, balancing delicately, steaming and ready to be downed. “Your father he uh, he thought he should bring it over but I wanted to tell you to break a leg. You’re one of the best performers I’ve had the pleasure to work with and it’s not likely I’ll be able to get many words in after tonight.” A nod was sent his way before you reached out for the plate, dainty and warm hands wrapping around the porcelain. It wasn’t lost on either of you that you made contact with the calloused and slightly worn skin of the musician. If you were being honest, you took this opportunity as an excuse to confirm the wave that rushed through you at his touch, to confirm it wasn’t a fluke or just a figment of either of your imaginations. Your heart rate spiked dramatically as a smile reached his face, dimples inset in his cheeks, the corners of his eyes crinkling with little crow’s feet. The moment gave away just how much he smiled, a happiness that made a permanent reminder in his features, one that you were jealous of — it’s not that you weren’t happy per se, it’s just that your life wasn’t all that it was chalked up to be.

“Thank you, Eddie.” You whispered his name as if it was sacred, a mantra that you could pray over - an idol to worship in pure sin. He was a temptation sent by the devil himself and yet he was angelic in his being. He exuded a light that rarely captured a being, a light so bright that it caught your attention and commanded it. He was the false idol you dropped to your knees for, dancing to the rhythm he set, and he was none the wiser.

“It’s not a problem, sweetheart.” He offered you a gentle nod before his smile dropped. He shouldn’t have even offered to bring you your meal.What if your father were to catch on to his infatuation? He didn’t even really know you and that was the way it should stay no matter how much you commanded his attention even from across the room. Eddie was sure that he’d be able to pick you out of a crowd with one glance but he shouldn’t be able to — this is something he had to put a stop to if he was being truthful with himself, with you both. He didn’t want to cause problems for you, job honestly be damned. If losing his job meant that he might get a shot with you, who was he to stay at this club? Sure it was a club on 52nd and conveniently close to his apartment, but he’d perform down in Greenwich Village- no, no. He had to snap himself out of his.

“Hey, uh, Eddie, do you care to join me?” You boldly asked, moving your body aside and starting to open your dressing room door. “I don’t really favour eating alone.” It was a bold move on your part, and you saw him stiffen up. This could be dangerous for you both if your father were to find out about it and he didn’t want to put you in any sort of position. An expression of hesitation painted itself across his features, sucking his bottom lip in, eyes darting from side to side anxiously as if he were being watched.

“Look, uh… I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Best keep this professional and all. You wouldn’t want to upset your daddy, and I have a contract to fulfill. You understand, don’t you?” He shifted uncertainly. He didn’t want to do this but it was needed, part of you understanding but a deeper part of you feeling your heart plummet. It felt drenched in ice water, weighted down and dragged to the coldest depths of the ocean.

“Of course,” you let you, tone shifting to something hollow and detached, “thank you, Mr. Munson.” You grabbed the plate from him, opening the door to your dressing room and slipping inside without sparing him so much as another look. As you closed the door you thought you heard a quiet hiss of ‘way to go Munson’ before footsteps backed away from your door. You allowed the plate and bowl to clatter against your dressing room vanity, not willing to look at the food your father must have provided you with. Bile rises in your throat at the rejection - it wasn’t something you were used to from strangers and certainly not the club regulars, it something you were more used to from those closest to you, but Eddie wasn’t close to you — he wasn’t a club regular either — and yet somehow this stung worse than the rejection your mother offered you time after time or the rejection of any suitor that your father would impose. Suddenly this sadness shifted to something entirely different, an anger that you didn’t know you harboured. You stood quickly, making a last minute costume change before ripping your dressing room door open and heading down to the bar for a pre show drink.

Kip, the new part time busboy and bartender, was the one serving drinks, he was young with a shock of freckles across his high cheekbones, moussey red hair sat perfectly coiffed on top of his head. He wasn’t what you’d call particularly handsome but he was someone most women thought was easy on the eyes but he wasn’t Eddie. You called him over and ordered a Giblet, asking him to make it extra strong for you and he did so with pleasure, showing off his skills. He served it to you in a gold rimmed coupe and delicately placed it on a black napkin. You barely paid him any mind as you took the stem of the glass with your manicured hands and brought the coupe to your lips. You sipped it, too distracted by the way that the club patrons came and went like clockwork. A few would sit at their usual tables, moving when they found their friends, some would stay for a drink and leave, but within 30 minutes the show goers and beatniks were there to stay and relish in the show that was about to be put on. Cigarette smoke filled the air with a cloudy grey hue, creating a heavy set mood, a mood filled with want — there was an undeniable underlying energy, an antsy one at that.

Slowly you finished your drink, wiping the last few drops off your bottom lip with the rough pad of your thumb, a streak of red being left on it after your lipstick. I’ll have to reapply it, you think to yourself about the waxy substance. So with a few long strides you leave your bar stool and head over to grab your lipstick from your dressing room, hurrying so as to not be late to start your show. You were never late, you were always on queue, allowing the musicians to count you in with a four bar intro before the song flowed into a more suggestive beat. Tonight was no exception, however; plans had changed for your little number. If it was seductive before it was downright filthy now. A not so coy plan to get Eddie to notice you, to pay him back for the embarrassment of not having dinner with you. You just wanted to be kind, you weren’t expecting much more from him — you knew your dad might not see it that way, and of course you didn’t want to risk the man’s job, but a selfish part of you wanted to get to know him. The flirting between you was obvious despite the few interactions you’ve both had, and the coldness that Eddie exuded after your extended invitation was a little bit strange, as if he was trying to hold back on something.

As soon as the lights went down in the bar, hushed whispers fell across the crowd, a few abrasive and high whistles traveled through the air but found themselves landing on deaf ears. You cared for nobody’s opinions or cat calls, you only cared to perform. It gave you a certain thrill to be up on stage under the spotlights, and so when the anacrusis and fours following bars queued you in. Your outfit change took not only your father but the musicians by surprise as well. It was a lot more revealing than you had originally planned. A black lace bra adorned your chest, with a black suspender belt hugging your waist just right. You abandoned your corset completely and wore a sheer robe over your costume. You left nothing to the imagination with your sheet thong, the suspender belt holding your stockings up, digging into the meat of your thighs. Your stilettos accentuated the length of your legs, creating the illusion that you were taller than you realistically were and this fed particularly well into when you’d bend over.

As you emerged onto the scene, you feigned modesty, one leg out the curtain while running your hand delicately along the soft skin. As you stepped out holding a feathered fan in a satin gloved hand you peaked your wide eyes over the top, raising your shoulder gently and throwing an innocent glance towards the patrons of the front row. You fanned yourself as you made your way up to the Victorian style chair in the middle of the scene and you straddled it, closing your fan and tossing it towards the crowd while they cheered. In that moment you dropped your robe, revealing the lack of clothing that adorned your body. With a backbend your hair dropped, breasts nearly spilling from your bra, you sank lower and lower before pulling yourself back up slowly. Someone threw their tie to you on stage and you made good use of it, picking it up and running it down your back and across the tender flesh of your ass. You leaned into it suggestively, swinging your hips from side to side much like the pendulum of an old grandfather clock. Eyes were locked onto your movements, men left drooling over your sultry new routine, but you had yet to capture the attention of a certain musician. You upped your game a little more at this realisation, swinging the chair closer to the piano bench and hoisting your leg up on it, you twirled the tie before standing up on the chair and tipping it back with a foot on the backrest. You gently landed on the piano, rolling your back across it, legs high in the air before resting on its surface, stomach down, the tie being gently placed around Eddie's neck.

It was just then that he dared look up at you and a heat overtook his body, crawling its way, unbearably, to his neck. He had nearly slipped up on the piece that he had been preparing for weeks, initially planning just to play it at some other jazz club off of 6th, but the opportunity here lended itself nicely. He slurred the notes together seamlessly, not tipping your father off, nor the poor men in the front row who he thought were more deserving of your attention — especially if you were working for tips. That didn’t seem to matter anymore, not after you rolled off the shiny black piano top and strode across the stage, making time to roll, tumble, and lift your hips to meet nothing but the empty air, making a show of getting up, ass high in the air.

Your little performance continued on with a few lap dances in between, eyes locked onto Eddie as you did so, sending him a small wink when he would look up from the black and white keys that his fingers expertly worked. He knew what he was doing just as well as a mechanic knows his well oiled machines. His eyes left the keys and yet he continued playing, fingers having deftly memorised each position. As the last note rang out, Eddie’s last shallow breath left his lips before he hurriedly excused himself. You, however, waited until the lights went out before slipping behind the velvet curtain, ready to change into a more comfortable dress for the rest of the evening. You wouldn’t be joining in any more dances unless it was some jive or swing, you needed a quicker pace to get rid of the adrenaline that coursed its way through your veins.

There was an anxiety that clouded you all of a sudden, what if you’d gone too far? After all, you didn’t know Eddie, just that he seemed to have captured your attention the second he stepped foot into the room. You knew his smile was infectious and that whatever he was making you feel was not something that usually overtook you, and never this strongly.

As soon as you shoved the second set of curtains aside you opted to make your way down the winding hall and to your dressing room. The lights were too hot, too many eyes were on you tonight and frankly you needed a minute to catch your breath. Nothing could have prepared you for the gruff pair of unwelcome hands shoving you up against the cool béton of the adjacent wall. After the initial shock wore off your watering eyes landed on the source of such aggression — the shock of red hair gave it away, a darkness painted across his features, a want filled with lust and rage. He might as well have been seeing an acrid crimson across his vision with the expression he wore.

“How about you be a doll and help a man out, peach.” He spat out the nickname, venom dripping black from his tongue. “You got us all riled up for nuttin’, and no relief either.” His breath felt hot, stale and bitter notes hung onto it like one might hold onto bitter memories, hoping that one day they might resolve or taste sweeter than they do. Like wanting to turn mead back into honey, it wouldn’t happen.

You shoved him away as best you could, pushing against his shoulders but his hand came around your neck, an unwelcome sensation as best, suffocating at worst. It stole the little breath you had left in your lungs as you choked out a muffled cry for help. Meek, trying, yet your words weren’t strong enough and eventually began to get caught in your throat. You brought your knee up to hit him in the family jewels, hoping that you’d render them invaluable but before you could feel the impact of your knee against the soft and unprotected parts of the man before you, a violent pull pried the redheaded busboy off of you.

“Don’t you fucking lay your hands on them ever again.” The deep voice rumbled out with such ferocity that you almost didn’t recognise it. “Why don’t you shag* before I lose my cool, you sunofabitch?” You looked up to see a man possessed, his voice wildly different from the warm tones he spoke to you in, the one that had been a little more than hot and cold with you, one that soothed you like thyme and honey soothed a sore throat. The one that you decided in that moment you would want protecting you so long as you had the privilege of it.

*Shag: To get lost, to leave

a/n: hey sorry if the formatting is weird or off, I’m on mobile as my computer ate shit before I got around to writing/posting this. Anyway, here it is, longer than the first part,and hopefully they just keep getting longer from here on out. Thanks for reading!!

tag list: @ali-r3n @cryingglightningg

Let me know if you wanna be added or removed from the tag list! :)

Part I

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #all for show #1950s #1960s #stranger things #New York #musician!eddie #showgirl!reader #eddie x reader #music #musician!eddiexreader #heartbreak #this story is based on a haunting I heard about in a podcast lmao

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zoeysdamn · 2 years

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There shall be night - Part.2 Morpheus x priestess! reader

Warnings: mention of the death of characters, religious themes

English isn’t my mother tongue, I’m sorry in advance for eventual grammatical mistakes!

Enjoy ♥

[Part.1]

Ancient Greece time was a blessed era to grow up in, in (Y/N) opinion. As the years went by, she grew up at the temple with her mother and the other priestesses of Morpheus. For her father was a worshipper too, only women choose to take on the priestess duty. (Y/N) learned at a young age what those duties were: taking care of dreamers, giving help when they reach for it. She knew what people could experience in the Dreaming, but also that very few of them could realise what it was.

As a child she spent a lot of time hidden in the temple’s column shadows, listening to older priestesses interpreting people’s dreams. She was fascinated by their abilities to help dreamers understand what they saw, felt, and did in their sleep. Her mother once told her that their unique connection with the Lord of Dreams and Nightmare gave them the ability to have a clearer insight of those dreams, even though they could never be sure of the true meaning of it. Only Lord Morpheus has the answers.

(Y/N) was 11 and a young priestess-in-training when she met the Dream Lord for the first time. Like her grandmother before her, she was gifted with lucid dreaming abilities. If most of the priestesses gradually developed this skill, she was on the contrary born with it. As for the premonitory dreaming gift, many thought it may be a sign she would be a great priestess, like her ancestor before her.

She wandered in Fiddler’s Green, silently walking with another girl dreaming who was unaware of her presence. (Y/N) didn’t say anything, but she enjoyed her walk with this dreamer, making sure her dream will run smoothly. The girl came to the temple with a fever during the day, so (Y/N) wanted to accompany her through her sleep to see if she at least found some comfort. After all, like her grandmother always said, what happened in the Dreaming was as important as daily life in the Waking world.

The dreaming girl was happily petting a bunny in a field of wildflowers when (Y/N) sensed his presence. It wasn’t upsetting, yet unfamiliar, like a breeze of early winter wind. Turning away from the dreamer, she saw a dark figure standing over the field, watching them. She should have been afraid, but this presence was oddly familiar; familiar enough for her to make her way toward him. As she approached, she could see more of this oddly familiar stranger. He was pale, with unruly dark hair and clear eyes. His eyes looked like the starry night had taken shelter behind his eyelids, and his neutral stare seemed to soften as she approached him. When she finally stood in front of him, (Y/N) already knew who he was.

“Hello Lord of Dreams” she greeted with a small bow of her head.

“Hello, little one” answered the deep voice of the Endless. (Y/N) swore that she never heard a sound like that before. “What is the meaning of your presence in the Dreaming?”

“I am making sure this girl has a pleasant stay in your realm, my Lord. I thought it may ease her complicated health these days”.

The Dream Lord’s eyebrow rose up, quite impressed with such poise coming from such a young person. Although he knew who she was, he was curious.

“Do you think you have the power to reshape her dreams?” his tone was firm, even if he didn’t mean to pester the child. But he wanted to test her. She shook her head.

“I do not. My duty does not lie there. But a comforting presence in the Dreaming and in the Waking world is what I can offer, should she seek help.”

“And why would you help her in the Dreaming and not only in your world, child?” asked Morpheus, still not satisfied with her answer.

The young girl squared her shoulders and answered calmly.

“For the Dreaming and the Waking world, both are what makes us living beings. I do not think we could exist without your realm my Lord, may it be dreams or nightmares”

He stared at her for a long time, not showing any sign of surprise on his stone face. But deep inside, he was satisfied and proud of the little human who stood before him, so sure of her convictions. Of her devotion.

“You truly are Aristea’s grandchild” stated Dream after their shared silence.

(Y/N) bowed out of respect for her late grandmother’s name. “She always spoke very highly of you throughout her life of devotion. You pronouncing her name is a great honour, Lord of dreams”

Even if the sand of the Dreaming and its peculiar properties could have allowed her to live forever, the first priestess of Morpheus had died a few years prior. For she has dedicated all her life to the Dream Lord and the dreamers, she chose to pass her duties to someone else and renounced the power of the sand that kept her alive. She died naturally a few years later, serene with the thought that her granddaughter and the other priestesses would carry on her mission.

“What is your name, child of the first priestess?” asked the Dream Lord.

“(Y/N), my Lord”

He repeated her name, enveloping it in his deep voice as if it was a gift he had to take care of.

“We shall meet again, young priestess,” he said as she was close to waking up.

“We will” she agreed “Goodbye, Lord Morpheus”

She didn’t realise it, but she was the first human since her grandmother to call him by this name.

With the priestess’ duties also came some medical and magical knowledge. Many dreamers came to them in the Waking world to ask for help regarding sleep issues or insomnia. (Y/N) learned to brew potions, even to prepare and perform ceremonies for self-projecting to the dreaming, to seek for dream in hope to have visions. The priestesses were devoted to Morpheus, and like his raven, acted like a bridge between the Dreaming and the Waking world. Sometimes, (Y/N) would see the Dream Lord from afar in the Dreaming. As the years went by, she became the dutiful priestess her grandmother wanted her to be. At 25, she felt ready to receive the gift of the sand. Like others before her, she would not age. Immortality was not within the Dream Lord's powers, but as long the Dreaming would exist, and as long she would serve him, she would not age.

The years went and with it wars and changes. Conflicts tore lives apart, disturbing beings to their deep chore. Wars made the priestesses’ work no easier; it was a heavy burden to witness horrible nightmares of soldiers, and reminiscences of what war had been. Those times were the hardest, some younger priestesses lost faith in the “dream” Lord and walked away from the temple. Through all the pain and the nightmares, (Y/N) stayed; she stayed convinced that dreamers still needed her. She and the other would be brave, remaining strong for the sake of both the dreamers and the Dreaming. But sometimes, she didn’t know where the line of her duties ended.

It was almost nighttime; the temple was unusually quiet, as (Y/N) lit some candles. This seemed like it would be a peaceful night. Suddenly, a young priestess burst into the room, a nervous expression on her face.

“(Y/N)! There is a woman at the entrance of the temple, she looked rather panicked” she whispered shakingly.

“Did you make her enter?” asked (Y/N) with concern.

“I offered, but she didn’t want to! She seems frightened of this place, but she seeks our help, what do I do?!” The younger priestess seemed rather anxious herself, so (Y/N) thanked her and quickly made her way to the temple’s entrance. At the bottom of one of the monumental columns, she saw a woman curled on herself. Even from afar, (Y/N) could see her shoulders shaking with sobs, and her heart immediately ached for this poor soul. She quietly crouched to the woman’s level and pulled her shawl from her shoulders to put it on the stranger’s. The woman gasped slightly and raised her head from her hands. Tearful and puffy eyes stared at (Y/N) in disbelief.

“You came for help,” told (Y/N) in a soothing voice “What I can do to help you, I will”

The woman sobbed again, her face painted with the most pained expression the priestess has ever seen.

“I-I…I don’t know if I can be here” she mumbled between tears.

“No one in pain has ever been forbidden to this temple” (Y/N) reassured her “If you allow me, I will take you inside the temple to seek warmth, alright?”

The woman seemed to hesitate at first but then nodded slowly. (Y/N) helped the distressed woman to get up, putting a reassuring arm around her as a sign of support. They entered the temple, and (Y/N) still sensed an uneasiness from the woman. She made her sit down in a room with comfortable pillows and excused herself for a moment to make tea. She put some relaxing herbs in the tea with the hope to provide her shaken guest with some soothing sleep.

“Here, I made some tea” announced (Y/N) while coming back into the room, “I thought it might help-”

She stopped dead in her tracks, nearly dropping the cups she was holding. Outside it had been dark, and she didn’t catch a clear view of the woman’s face, save for her tearful eyes. Now by the soft candlelight, she could clearly see her face: even drenched with tears and sorrow, she could recognise a muse.

“Lady Calliope” greeted the priestess with a shaky voice, immediately dropping into a deep bow, knees almost touching the ground, “Forgive me I have not recognised you”

The muse seemed almost as surprised as (Y/N), watching her with a stunned expression.

“N-no, there is no need for such formalities” she assured “I…I came here because I…”

She seemed hesitant like she was lost for words. As if her words were stuck in her throat, but wouldn’t go out. That alarmed (Y/N), who quickly got up and carefully came forward to sit next to her. The muse of epic poetry was not known for lacking words. Something was wrong, terribly wrong.

“What do you need to speak of, my Lady?” asked the priestess softly.

Calliope sniffled in a very un-ladylike manner, but neither seemed to mind. With trembling lips and eyes full of tears again, the muse seemed ready to collapse before (Y/N) eyes.

“My son just died”

And with that, everything crumbled again. Calliope broke into tears, and out of reflexes (Y/N) hugged her. All the protocols that had shaped her for years screamed at her to not engage in such proximity with a muse - the Dream Lord’s wife - but she couldn’t let another being in such distress without helping. Not in the Waking world, not when she could do something. She has already seen way too much suffering without interfering in the Dreaming.

And besides, Calliope looked like she could use some support. As soon as (Y/N) had wrapped her arms around her, she gripped the priestess’ arm, clinging to it for her dear life.

For the first time, (Y/N) didn’t know what to do. All the dreamers that came for her help at the temple, that she could help them. But a weeping muse engulfed by pain and grief? Gaia helps her. She didn’t need to ask what happened. Between the wars and the God’s plans, it was easy to figure out that Orpheus’ passing was way too soon. (Y/N) never met Calliope and Morpheus’ son. She barely ever saw the muse before, only having caught a quick glimpse of her once in the Dreaming. Besides, Dream of the Endless was a rather private person. Although a worshipper and devoted servant to the Dream Lord, his private life wasn’t a topic she liked. For she knew she was a mere human, and any romantic feelings would be vain. So she stuck to her priestess role and decided that she shouldn’t be interested in him in such a way.

“I am deeply sorry for your loss, Lady Calliope” murmured (Y/N) after long minutes of heavy silence. “I wish I could ease your pain”

The muse raised her head from the priestess’ shoulder and shook her head slightly “There is nothing you can do about this, I’m afraid”. She sniffled again and her gaze seemed lost for a moment.

‘Then why did you seek my help?’ Thought (Y/N) internally. ‘What could I possibly help you with, for I have never lost a child?’

Like reading her mind, Calliope turned her head toward (Y/N)

“I need your help…as my husband’s priestess”

“How?” (Y/N)’s voice was almost a whisper.

“I cannot reach him” admitted Calliope and the pain in her voice was very much sensible. “Since word of Orpheus’ death came to me…I cannot reach him. I do not know if he’s aware that our son…that he died”

She turned away, maybe in shame, maybe because she didn’t want someone to see her cry anymore. (Y/N) was quite lost; what should she do? For a moment she considered declining the demand. But then she thought that Calliope would surely suffer from enough sleepless nights because of her son’s death; if (Y/N) could ease her a little by transmitting a message to the Dream Lord, then her duties would have been accomplished. She put a reassuring hand on Calliope’s own and tried to give her a reassuring smile.

“I will try, I promise”

The muse gave her a grateful nod, then (Y/N) stood up, and asked a younger priestess to make sure that Calliope would be led to a room to rest. Then she made her way to the ritual’s room. The circular space, with double pillars all around, was lit by dozens of candles. A sweet scent of sandalwood and incense, helping meditation and self-projection to the Dreaming hung in the air. As she sat on her heels on the cushioned floor, (Y/N) inhaled deeply. For some reason, she felt really nervous about this. It wasn’t the first time she projected herself into the Dreaming; her lucid dreaming abilities had improved throughout the years, so much that she could enter the realm easily. But this was different. This felt different. Something strange tainted the air, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Or maybe she didn’t want to face what it was.

She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. Steadying it. Then, she focused her mind. Clearing it, making it ready to welcome the Dreaming particular sensation. Then, when she caught a glimpse of the realm of dreams she held onto it tightly, letting it infuse her mind and its every bit. She felt herself fall into the void, mind and soul briefly detached from everything. Then she felt the familiar dense feeling, palpable in the first instants in the Dreaming. She opened her eyes. Something felt odd. The air wasn't quite the same, everything just felt… heavier. She looked around, no storm seemed to be coming, yet the thunder seemed so close. (Y/N) squared her shoulders and began to make her way toward the Horns and Ivory gates. She didn't know if she could go past them on her own, but at least her presence at the border would attract some attention. She usually always woke directly behind the doors, directly in the realm.

The sound of wings put her out of her reverie; she shot her head up, welcoming the sight of a familiar raven.

"Hello Jessamy"

The raven released a loud caw! as a greeting. Jessamy never spoke, but somehow the priestesses understood her. (Y/N) had always been particularly fond of the Dream Lord’s raven, for she has most of her interactions with. Like the priestess, Jessamy was a messenger, a bridge between the two worlds.

‘He’s not ready to see you’

“No one ever is for that kind of news,” said the priestess sadly “Does he know?”

She sensed some uncertainty from the raven. If Jessamy certainly knew of the fatal news, nothing could confirm it was Morpheus’ case. The weight on her shoulders felt heavier.

“I have to find him Jessamy. Please.”

The bird cocked her head to the side, taking sight of the priestess for a brief moment. She seemed to understand what may come out of this encounter.

“I have a duty to fulfill. Just like you do.” insisted (Y/N) in a soft voice. “Please”

Jessamy nodded and with a flip of wings, rose in the sky of the Dreaming. As she fled toward the castle, (Y/N) felt the dreadful sensation spread even deeper in her chore. But she had a duty to carry on.

[Part.3]

A/N: I have no idea of what I’m doing here lmao, but I promise there will be some Morpheus x reader at some point

Taglist: @endlessdreamqueen

#dream x reader #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman #the sandman netflix #reader insert

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hanzajesthanza · 7 months

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Angouleme for the character bingo

i am so normal about them - did you know that when the guards call her "skittish" in her debut in ttos ch. 5 and fringilla calls her "flighty" in lotl ch. 4, they're actually using the same word, płochy? of which could be translated as "fickle," "thoughtless," "skittish," or "insignificant, trivial" or "unsteady in (her) feelings", or "careless," "untamed," or "reckless" ... isn't that interesting! i just think that's interesting.

i have so many headcanons about them - my entire (planned but not written) fic with her and regis spins around my head... i'm torn on whether to post a plot summary of this on here (basically copying over what i've said in discord messages), or if i want to avoid spoiling any of this and just wait until i've finished it (and who knows when or if i will ever write this)

*projects onto them like a mf* - yes, though admittedly to her detriment, it's a habit i've tried to stop. i find that my excessive editorializing of her spoils her character :p stick to the facts, people! i admit it's difficult if only because we share some similar issues, but the thing that i have to keep in mind is that we have entirely opposite personalities, and even if we feel similarly, her feelings will express themselves differently.

wordless space 1, "i just think she's neat"

everyone else is wrong about them - people just forget about her character, and i'm not only speaking of them forgetting about her existence - that they also do often enough, but they also do not pay attention to her. that's probably my biggest pet peeve regarding her, is that people find her quirky and funny, but do not remember the context around her character... that she nearly escaped the scaffold, and from that nearly the stake, with eyes gouged out and breasts torn by iron-hot pincers? that she genuinely was begging to be hanged when she was introduced as a character, begging for death? or that she has hidden from pursuers in toussaint before? that she has "friends" such as golan drosdeck whom she owed debts to? that she is knowledgeable about the mining operations and the reddishness of the earth, and explains the subject to geralt and cahir? or that she is upset when civilians are afraid of them from killing bandits "because they were evil," so she indeed has a moral compass? that she screams like a banshee when trying to kill nightingale? or that she 'resembled a pretty girl' when given a comb and dress, and that she got tipsy during the october banquet and could be heard throughout the hall? her character actually has so much detail and diversity if you actually pay attention, but hardly anyone remembers her as anything asides from a silly little girl that joined geralt's hanza and provides some laughs for the reader. and then they ask why the female characters are one-dimensional. idk, possibly because it is these reader which made them one-dimensional in their very own minds because they are not strong readers and forget all the detail that's literally written right there on the page... oh, and by the way, it was not a hanza before she joined, because she is the very one which dubs it that in the first place. before angouleme joined, they were just the "company". that is my angouleme rant done 😌

that's a solid design right there - canonically, great: "The girl sniffed again, inclined her head and fixed Geralt with her huge eyes. Nut-brown, not green. Then she shook her untidy mane of light hair, causing it to fall onto her forehead in unruly locks," and personally (if i can compliment the own personal way i see her), i love to give her a silhouette with a short, cropped top and long, flared pants. somewhat like this:

they are so silly - ignore my entire rant above about her being treated like a comic relief character and nothing more... because she is indeed funny and a bright little jester of a girl.

wordless space 2, "squeaky toy"

bastard - literally. she is an illegitimate child born out of wedlock.

character bingo

send an ask

#ask #ask meme #c: angouleme #incorrect-httyd

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timberva · 2 years

Text

Apologies for the delay, this drabble turned into an absolute monster with a length and plot line that can more accurately be called a oneshot. I meant to continue the letter-writing format, but I couldn’t get away from this story idea. I have planned for the next prompts to be epistolaries.

This is based on this prompt list. Check out @topsyturvy-turtely ‘s posts for June prompts here (turtle is actually up to #6 —she’s actually doing a wonderful job keeping up with the prompts daily unlike some people *cough* me *cough*), from whom I had discovered the list.

Without further ado, I present to you, Prompt #2

Pet Names

Summary: Sherlock doesn’t like pet names, and John doesn’t understand why. A fatal injury brings the truth to light, and changes their relationship forever—as well as Sherlock’s opinion on verbal endearments.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Tea-time at Baker Street is a very chaotic affair.

“Pet names are lurid, manipulative devices used to assert dominance in a relationship by using it to coerce one’s partner with affection. To paint them in a romantic light is demeaning, not to mention utterly tedious! The inability to comprehend how to address the people around oneself is a testament to how lacking an individual is in maturity of the mind!” Sherlock passionately exclaims.

Today’s rant is about pet names, apparently. He is seething at a different level from his usual outbursts, even surpassing his rant about the idiocy of the name “football” in American sports after a case with some tourists (They throw the ball with their hands, John!). That one, at least, John could concede solidarity on.

No, there is something emotionally involved here — a disastrous notion when it comes to his self-proclaimed sociopath— and John has a flitting suspicion as to what.

“You seem…” He trails off with an amused smirk. Is it worth it to prod at the sleeping bear?

“What?” His tone is murderous, and if John were a lesser man, he would have retreated both conversationally and literally.

“I don’t know, jealous?” John suspects that his attentions to his generously affectionate date had something to do with this, for the moment she had stepped through the door that afternoon, the strop began. The very audible breakup that shook the foundations of Sherlock’s chemistry set in the kitchen had done nothing to reduce its intensity. He had always seemed bitterly envious of John’s girlfriends….

Sherlock’s cold gaze sharpens at his remark, and in one lithe movement, the overgrown child throws himself onto the abused sofa and curls up towards its back. He doesn’t speak for the rest of the afternoon.

After a couple of hours without moving into his “thinking” position, John reckons the nights with no sleep and irrational anger was enough to tire him out for a long nap. Regardless, he didn’t move to protest when John threw a blanket over him.

—

Two shots. Directly in the chest. Every anatomical chart he had ever seen in his life barraged through his head in that moment, and blaring red, pulsing with danger danger danger like an alarm in each of them is the heart and all of the possible complications of its injury.

John is a doctor. He is rational, and he knows that blood cells cannot literally morph into fear, but terror is the only thing he could feel running through his veins as he pushes his idiotic self-sacrificing flatmate off of himself.

John’s heart leapt into his throat as a body slammed into his side — shit shit shit did their killer have an accomplice? — propelling the both of them toward the ground. Two deafening gunshots found a destination in some unlucky dud, and with the adrenaline coursing through him, he had to check that it wasn’t himself.

Painfully slow, John registered exactly what had just transpired, beginning with the cloying, familiar scent of aftershave filling his nostrils, followed by the mop of unruly black hair he has fantasized running his fingers through many an afternoon. His self-proclaimed sociopath had thrown himself in front of two bullets to save his life. Had gotten himself shot is John’s stead.

“Sherlock- Sherlock stay with me!” Two times. Sherlock was shot two times because John, with all of his military-trained reflexes, had not noticed their accomplice reaching for the hidden gun at the crook of his neck.

“In-ink stains, John. It was the ink stains! Mr. Montgomery…”

Oh good lord, the genius is bleeding out onto the fucking street and he’s still showing off! He laughs wetly.

“I’m sure you were brilliant, love, you always are. You need to stay awake, you hear me?” John absently runs his hand through the man’s curls. Sherlock’s eyes shoot open, pupils blown wide —danger danger danger

Damn it, where the hell is the ambulance? The cardigan he’s been pressing to the wound is already soaked through with blood. Sherlock’s lips are turning blue — danger danger danger

“I’m-I’m going into shock…I can’t stop it, John, I can’t…” John looks at him, and finds that he cannot recognize the man lying before him. Pure panic laced in his green irises like a poison, face taking upon a foreign expression- though to John it is familiar. The terrified countenance of a dying patient. There is no way John can emotionally distance himself from this. Sherlock is not another patient. Another patient’s blood would not make him feel like crawling out of his skin at the sight of its sheer amount.

Sherlock is not even just a friend, despite how often he insists it to his prying colleagues. John could live without him, but only in the barest sense of what it means to survive. People tend to forget there are fates worse than death.

“Did-did you get the accomplice? Richard Montgomery—I think he got away. You should-you should go after him before he-“

It can’t help but occur to him that his flatmate’s vice-like grip on his shirt betrays his true feelings. Stay, it is imploring.

I can’t stop it, he’d said.

He cannot die like this- he cannot die isolating himself, thinking that he is alone, that he has to push John away to preserve some stilted notion of dignity impressed upon him by years of reclusivity. I’m his bloody doctor, damn it!

He shifts Sherlock’s legs onto his lap to do what little he can to send blood back to his heart.

“Sherlock look at me.” His words fall upon deaf ears- Sherlock’s eyes are unfocused, flitting with hyperactivity. Faintly, he registers the presence of half of Scotland Yard coming up behind him.

“Where’s the bloody ambulance?”

“On its way. Jesus, John is he-“ Whatever Lestrade said after was irrelevant to saving the life in his arms, so he blocked it out.

I need to calm him down. He can’t be expected to do it himself. He needs you, Watson, no matter what he says.

“Tell me how you solved the case.” No response.

Desperation claws at the inside of his chest with its sharp talons, begging him to do something, anything, or it will tear him open and he will lay there bleeding out alongside-

“Sherlock, please, say something!” His voice is frantic now. “Tell me about the ink stains! Tell me how boring my last girlfriend was!”

No response.

John places a shaking hand on his cheek, his thumb leaving a scarlet imprint behind with each stroke like bloody footsteps in the snow.

“Sherlock, darling, please. I can’t lose you!”

They never talked about their feelings. They never bared their souls out to each other, as two Englishmen are wont to reject intimacy, which feels monumentally stupid in the light of their current situation. Sherlock could be dying thinking that colleagues encompassed the entirety of John’s regard towards him.

“I’ll stop nagging you about the toes in the fridge! I’ll help you with that bloody experiment you’ve been haranguing me about for weeks! Please,” his voice breaks, “darling, just come back to me.”

To this, Sherlock seems to resurface. His breathing catches, then evens out a bit.

“C’mon love you’re doing great.” John chuckles tearfully.

Sherlock’s eyes come to focus like a gear had been turned. He parts his lips as though to speak, and apparently has enough energy to muster a small smirk.

“…love?…You’re…in love with me too?…” He mumbles a bit deliriously.

Love?

Oh. Oh.

He hadn’t even realized he’d been doing it, replacing his friend’s name with endearments he did not even reserve for his amorous relations……

“Wait, too?!”

Before John’s nerves could fire and comprehend the monumental discovery he had just made, the sirens that he’d heard in the distance emerged, loud, behind him. The EMT’s, spouting what sounded like gibberish to John’s ears, rush past him and snatch his flatmate away from view.

Too?

“Sir? Are you coming?”

Right. Ambulance. He stands up so fast dots swim in front of his eyes, then sprints the short distance to the vehicle.

—

“No one’s called me ‘darling’ since Victor.”

John jumps at the sudden noise from his post-op friend who’d been asleep for an eternity. Sherlock is staring at the ceiling, lost in thought, as though they were simply back at the flat, lounging in the sitting room. Look away for one moment and suddenly he regains consciousness.

“You’re awake.”

“Obviously.”

They pointedly ignore their clasped hands, as though the action of noticing would be enough to dissipate its existence.

He clears his throat. “Er- so what were you saying about…Victor? Was he the murderer?”

Sherlock heaves a weak, long-suffering sigh, which in one fell swoop erases any doubts of his recovery. He’s himself again, John is happy to take note of.

“You’d asked if I’d ever been in a relationship— Victor was my first and my last. He was aggressive, and I had come to hate the endearment, and all others, in his company.” He pauses to take a steadying breath.

“Rugby was not enough to bear the brunt of his hostility, so I..did. And because I was young and stupid, I stayed no matter how many times he hit me. I was convinced he loved me— his apologies were riddled with tender monikers.” He spoke as detachedly as he could, but John could hear the notes of pain seeping from below the intellectuality of his tone.

“It was as if replacing my name with ‘darling’ or ‘my sweet’ erased the evidence of his transgressions. A manipulation disguised as affection. Since then I had sworn off any and all—ouch! John, my hand is not a grip trainer.”

“Sorry.” He loosens the fist he had curled quite tightly around the hand they weren’t supposed to be acknowledging. He doesn’t let go, just keeps rubbing circles with his thumb and hoping his anger wouldn’t spiral out of control again. Sherlock sighs in relief and moves on.

“You called me ‘darling.’ And ‘love.’ Twice.”

“Ah, so you remember that,” John remarks awkwardly.

Sherlock taps at his temple with his index finger. “Eidetic memory, remember, John? Pet names occupy a certain place in my mind palace that I’d rather forget but cannot bring myself to delete,” he says. “But with you…”

“It’s different. I promise you, it’s different.” He strokes Sherlock’s knuckles with his thumb.

There is a silence broken only by the steady beeping of the heart monitor as they mull over the influx of soul-baring information.

“I know.”

“Hmm?”

“That it’s…different.”

The niggling thought that had been prodding at John throughout the entirety of Sherlock’s operation and his consequent slumber finally breaks through to the forefront of his thoughts. Comically, like a little zip of lightning.

“You mentioned something—you were a bit loopy actually, probably from the pain and the shock. I might’ve misheard, but it got me thinking-“

“Oh for god’s sake just spit it out-“

“Right, um, are you sure you’re not still feeling feverish? They literally opened up your chest-“

“John, spit it out.”

“Too, you said too.” John takes a steadying breath. “You said ‘you’re in love with me too.’”

Speechless is a rare expression to befall a genius with little regard for social niceties, so there must have been some sense in his obsessive rumination, that a mere tail end of a sentence is able to elicit the panic of an exposed secret.

He clears his throat again. “Now I don’t have your deduction skills, but that seems to imply that either multiple people are in love with you or that you…love me.”

A pregnant quietude follows, time that John could have used to stammer an awkward retraction or for Sherlock to utter a poignant denial — John is rendered in disbelief that silence is what confirms a truth he’d longed to hear since he’d met the madman. “So you…” He trails off, not quite able to bring himself to say it out loud for fear that the universe might implode, an astonished grin spreading across his face.

Sherlock does not reflect his ecstasy. He seems to draw into himself, pulling his hand from John’s and angling his body slightly away. “Too late to convince you that you are part of a large group of people who are infatuated with me?” He asks dejectedly.

“You love me too,“ John says breathlessly.

“You weren’t supposed to know. I promise you, I had gone to great lengths to keep it hidden for the sake of our friendship. If we could simply ignore it and pretend this never happe— wait, too?!”

“THAT’S WHAT I SAID!”

Sherlock turns his entire body to face John and sits up, then immediately regrets it because he is still a patient recovering from a gunshot wound.

“Owww,” he complains, half-laughing, which sets them both off. Giggles overtake the two idiots like a drug, and they wonder, amidst the laughter, how much longer they might have gone searching for each other without knowing what lay beneath their noses.

John leans forward to take in the picture of a happy Sherlock, warm and blushing and in love, gorgeous despite having just come out of a surgery and a near-death experience. He decides that he will do anything to keep him this buoyant forever. To permanently erase the hardened lines from his face and replace it with the goofy grin he is currently sporting.

Before he can properly entertain the internal conflict that comes with important decisions, he moves closer and kisses him on the forehead. And oh, the effect is pure euphoria; the drug itself could not widen his smile further. John would kiss him forever if he liked. He moves a hand into the mop of dark curls and places feather kisses on Sherlock’s nose and then to the corner of his mouth. A tape-covered hand comes to rest at John’s cheek.

“Okay?” John asks.

“Is this real?” Sherlock whispers, as though someone was going to burst through the door at any moment and announce that they were, in fact, dreaming. “We’re in love with each other at the same time?,” he asks, not unlike a child finding mutual fancy in primary school.

“Yes, darling, we’re in love with each other at the same time,” John laughs then kisses him on the lips to assuage him of any doubt, and Sherlock responds with matching enthusiasm. John marvels at the amount of warmth that lay under the man’s cold exterior, at how right all of this feels, at how two days ago he wouldn’t even be able to fathom that his fantasies of capturing his flatmate’s pliant lips in his own could possibly come to reality, or that it would be this gratifying.

“Don’t stop,” Sherlock says after breaking the kiss.

“You were the one who pulled away-“

“No, I mean with the pet names. I’ve decided that… I rather like them when it’s you.”

The significance of this is not lost on John, who wonders if he should be concerned about spontaneous combustion from happiness.

“Alright, love.”

—

(Epilogue)

“…to conclude, Mr. and Mrs. Gertrude died of asphyxiation before the stabbing ever took place. Seriously, Lestrade, how do you call yourselves detectives?” It is a locked room mystery, one that Sherlock is overjoyed to have been given, and it is apparent to all who are present. Sally Donovan rolls her eyes.

“Please, enlighten us,” she deadpans.

“There are traces of hydrogen cyanide in the air. Didn’t you lot notice that when you walked in? Should have been much stronger than it is now when you first declared this a crime scene. The killer was clever enough to get rid of the source before they made their timely escape. Two well-loved, generally happy victims murdered by a toxic chemical and made to look like a suicide. Absolutely riveting!” His happy tirade is interrupted by John unsubtly clearing his throat.

“Uh, darling, a bit not good.” John grabs his hand and gestures to the young Ms. Gertrude sobbing quietly in the corner.

“Ah…apologies,” he amends quietly. Sherlock sweeps a drop of liquid off the floor with a cotton swab. “Here. Have this run for tests, then interview anyone close to them who wears loafers.”

But his orders are unheard as the entirety of Scotland Yard is standing frozen, shell-shocked with their jaws barely a centimeter off the ground. It is unforgettable how a single word could render an entire elite polite force incompetent of maintaining even a small level of restraint, and Sherlock would surely be filing that in a very prominent place in his mind palace.

Lestrade opens his mouth to speak, then eventually regains the ability to articulate words.

“So you two are like a thing now?” He remarks quite eloquently on behalf of his dumbfounded companions.

“Yeah.” John says abashedly, lifting their intertwined hands for emphasis.

A pause follows, the silence becoming almost eerie before everything erupts into chaos. It seems that just about every member present is emotionally invested in whatever the hell is going on — disappointed groans and cheerful cries of victory and the sound of money being passed over fill the room, and the case is forgotten for the moment (poor Elizabeth Gertrude is just sitting in the corner, overwhelmed).

“YOU ALL OWE ME 50 QUID!” Lestrade bellows over the din.

The end.

—

Fun fact: true to my blog name, it was indeed 2am when I finished this.

Tagging: @topsyturvy-turtely @kettykika78 @musingsofmyown

Lmk if you wanna be added to the tag list!

#johnlock ficlet #johnlock #prompt fic #timbervawrites

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illbeweirdaboutit · 10 months

Text

Now I Wanna Be Your Dog

Part 1

Eddie-centric, undiagnosed Autism, pet play, choking, BDSM, S&M, implied child abuse, bisexual Eddie, references to homophobia and homophobic violence, vague guesstimations about the gay kink scene in 1980s America, I'm English so sorry in advance for spellings, kink exploration, humiliation kink.

Eddie knows he's different, it has always been obvious, even before he began purposefully performing his eccentricities. He's often felt like he's either dragging behind his peers, lost and alone or uncontrollably steaming ahead, frustrated with how slow everyone else is. He's never met anyone in the middle, never found someone else who seems to get it.

People confuse him. They follow imaginary rules he can't decode, rules he keeps clattering into, clumsy and disoriented. He doesn't understand why and how to take turns when speaking, doesn't understand why it's rude to point out obvious things.

The older he gets, the less he cares. It was so frustrating trying to keep step that he's given up and skips along in a way that suits him better. It's easier, now he lives with his Uncle Wayne and his endless patience. Eddie feels bad sometimes, wishes he could be easier to look after, easier for Wayne to love. Easier for his parents to love. But ruminating on it makes him sad so he doesn't.

Eddie's experience with romantic and sexual relationships have been interesting. He's long known he prefers men, though occasionally a woman will catch his attention, and he understands well enough that being vocal about this will get his ass handed to him by the homophobe of the week. Despite that there's no shortage of curious teenagers at school or grabby men at bars who let him touch and kiss. He's never gone all the way with anyone but he's made others cum and has had been made to cum by hands that weren't his own.

If he drives out of Hawkins, there's bars and clubs that provide zines, books, comics and art about all the possibilities, the dangers and things he'd never even thought to try. They ignite something in him, something searing hot in his guts and difficult to keep to himself.

Eddie has been called feral a few times. When he chewed through the strap on his watch, Wayne shook his head, called him feral and promised him a new watch for his birthday. His teacher spat the word at him when he couldn't sit still, fidgeting and kicking the underside of his own chair. The Hellfire party whined that he was mad, feral and wild when he set up a particularly difficult dungeon crawl and allowed no mercy. It's a word that has floated around him for years. Feral. Feral. Feral.

For the longest time Eddie thought he craved control. The world spun so fast and he couldn't keep up. He didn't know if he was in front or behind himself half the time and the idea of being able to control something - someone - was so appealing. He loved to be a little rough when he kissed, to bark orders and instructions while playing D&D.

On one of his trips to the city he traded some weed for a small bundle of BDSM and kink zines. He'd heard about the kind of games you could play with sex and he needed to know more.

The zine he picked up last weekend burned a hole in his consciousness. He couldn't stop thinking about it, tucked under his mattress at home while he sat on the bleachers at school, fingering his hair, curling it around and around and around. FERAL in big mismatched type on the front. A person, mouth open and wide like they were barking with a thick studded collar around their neck. The silent shout of their bark cut off by an unseen hand pulling tight on a leash clipped to the back of the collar. FERAL. A zine for good and bad boys alike. It wasn't a particularly long zine but Eddie had been captivated. Men pretending to be dogs, allowed to be wild and unruly. Crawling on all fours, biting their masters hands, pushed down into submission. Eating from bowls on the floor, allowed to be free with someone else taking care of them. No need to observe confusing social rules. Feral.

At first he thought he wanted to have a pup of his own to play with and tug around. But the fantasies warped on a night, when he shoved his hand down his pants and touched himself. He thought about the oppressive weight of a heavy leather collar on his own neck. About being allowed to bite. He thought about straddling the leg of someone else, thrusting his hips hard against their skin as he got himself off. A gentle but condescending hand in his hair. A pat on the head as a well done afterwards.

Eddie was getting hot, staring at nothing as mental Images flashed in time with his racing heartbeat. He pulled at his own fair slightly, a dark coil of hair purpling the tip of his finger as he tugged.

He thought about being pinned, fucked hard and fast as his Master choked him with a collar. He thought about being allowed to fuck his Master, fast and without rhythm because rowdy pups don't need to have finesse.

A commotion makes him jump out of his reverie. A couple of students lower down on the bleachers laughing and shrieking as they pretend to push each other. Eddie shakes his hair a little and forces himself to shelve his train of thoughts for later.

(Will try and finish part 2 soon)

#stranger things #eddie munson #steddie #st fic #st #eddie-centric #NIWBYD fic

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duhdumb89 · 8 months

Text

A Forbidden Happiness | Chapter 12

Jiayi felt tears well up in her eyes when she stepped through the gates of Xianfugong. The dizzying mixture of happiness, relief, and fear made her hands shake, and knees wobble. Pie'er was standing at the doors, head pointed to the ground.

"Little Cutie!" She called.

Pie'er wasn't prone to raising her voice or making sudden movements, so when the young girl screamed Jiayi's name and barreled her way into her arms, Pie'er nearly knocked her to the ground. She buried her face in Jiayi's chest and burst into tears.

"Don't cry, don't cry! I was only gone for two days!" Said Jiayi, hugging her tight.

Through her tears, Pie'er said, "Susu said that you weren't going to return! She said they would hang your body outside the divine gate to teach the other maids a lesson!"

"She was just trying to scare you," said Jiayi, "I'm already back,"

"Mistress! It's Jiayi! She's back!"

Two more pairs of arms crushed Jiayi before she could raise her head.

"Jiejie, you're back! You're back!"

Ping'er added to Pie'er tears while Molan's mouth was running a mile a minute. Try as she might, Jiayi ended up with tears running down her face as well. She couldn't help it. It was overwhelming to know that these girls loved her as much as she loved them in such a short time.

"Jiejie, you're not allowed to leave again," Pie'er said, a wobbly glare on her red face.

Jiayi nodded.

"You wild girl, where did you run off to?" said a familiar voice.

Jiayi wiped her face and gently extracted herself from the sobbing pile of girls. She kowtowed to her mistress.

"Xiang gui ren, I've returned,"

Xiang gui ren helped Jiayi to her feet and then tweaked her nose, "So unruly. You kept those girls up worried for you day and night,"

Her mistress' lips wobbled as she spoke, and an errant tear welled up in her eye before she dashed it away.

"I'm sorry for worrying them," replied Jiayi.

"Xiang meimei, His Majesty will scold you again if you make a stir about leaving. Hurry back inside before someone notices!"

When Jiang gui ren caught sight of Jiayi, her face when slack with shock; a second later, she smiled.

"Meimei! Your maid is back! What good news," said Jiang gui ren.

Jiayi greeted Jiang gui ren properly and did her best not to slap her. How dare she behave like she wasn't almost the reason for Jiayi's death?

Jiang gui ren went as far to pet Jiayi's face to play the role of a concerned friend. It made Jiayi's skin crawl.

"Xiang meimei was so scared for you! Thank goodness you've returned,"

"This servant isn't worthy of your concern," replied Jiayi.

"Nonsense! In fact," Jiang gui ren slipped a jade and copper ring off her finger and pressed it into Jiayi's hands, "For you, to celebrate your return,

Jiayi quietly thanked her. Being touched by Jiang gui ren made her feel even dirtier than she already was after spending two days in The Office of Careful Punishment.

Susu cleared her throat, "Mistress, you have to change. His Majesty is waiting,"

"Right. Congratulations, Xiang meimei, His Majesty has learned the truth. I'll come back and celebrate with you later, okay?"

Jiayi glared at Jiang gui ren's back before Molan tugged at her, "Jiejie, is that...blood on your sleeve?"

It probably was.

"Oh," Jiayi said, inspecting her dirtied clothes, "I'll go wash up,"

"You're lucky. Pretty just finished setting up my bath," said Xiang gui ren.

Jiayi shook her head, "Mistress, I couldn't use your bath. All I need is some water. I can bring it myself,"

"Aiya, all the trouble you've caused, and you still have the nerve to talk back?" Said Xiang gui ren.

Molan and Ping'er dragged Jiayi inside before she could protest, "Jiejie, you'll love it! There's pearl powder and rose petals. It's so fancy,"

There wasn't much Jiayi could do but undress and step into the bath. Molan was right; she did love it. However, the delicious warmth from the fragrant water couldn't melt away the ice that had settled in her heart. Jiang gui ren was more dangerous than she thought and Xiang gui ren needed to know.

"What's that face for?" Asked Xiang gui ren as she sat near the tub, "Sick of us already?"

Jiayi shook her head, "Mistress, did His Majesty tell you why I was arrested?"

"No!" Ping'er butted in, "When Mistress went to ask, he wouldn't tell her and then locked her in her rooms!"

Ping'er quieted down at Xiang gui ren's glare, "Jiang gui ren was happy to let me know what everyone was saying,"

Jiayi took a deep breath and began to talk. The bath water had long grown cold when Jiayi finished her tale.

–––

As the Phoenix-Luan Spring Favor Carriage ambled towards Yangxindian, Xiang gui ren fumed. She wanted to say that Jiang gui ren was the target of her fury, but she was indeed the most furious at herself. She had been a fool, thinking that Jiang gui ren was a jealous child with nothing more on her mind outside of stealing His Majesty's favor. Women had been killed at the brothel for things like a better room or a few silks. So why had Xiang gui ren thought Jiang gui ren wouldn't kill to have The Emperor's favor? The gentle rocking of the carriage was at odds with her whirling mind.

Jiayi had identified Jiang gui ren as the mastermind of entire debacle, but Xiang gui ren couldn't wrap her head around that. Where did Jiang gui ren get those lewd pictures? Or that paper? Did The Empress Dowager help her? Did The Empress? Frankly, it could've been anyone. Even if it wasn't said out loud, she knew she wasn't the most popular person in the back palace.

When she lifted the carriage door after it stopped, Zhang Wei was waiting to escort her inside.

"His Majesty is eager to see you," he said, leading her up the steps, "He instructed the kitchens to make those pea-flour cakes that you're so fond of,"

In fact, everything in The Emperor's rooms that night looked to be catered to her preferences. Her favorite incense, her favorite tea; His Majesty was even wearing an outfit in orange, her favorite color. His Majesty was doing his best to please her. Xiang gui ren could use this to her advantage.

"This concubine greets His Majesty," she said. She had only touched the ground before The Emperor was pulling her upright.

"You can do away with the formalities, dear," he said.

"Can I?" Replied Xiang gui ren, "How can I believe that with how you treated me these few days?"

"It was for your protection. It showed that you weren't swaying the investigation,"

"How could I sway an investigation that I didn't know existed? You arrested Jiayi and locked me up. I was–" Xiang gui ren stopped and bowed her head, pretending to be contrite, "Forgive me, Your Majesty. I've been too wordy,"

The Emperor raised Xiang gui ren's chin, "Speak," he said.

Xiang gui ren threw herself into his arms and squeezed out a few tears.

"I was so scared. I thought...I thought that you lied to me. That everything you told me in Nanjing meant nothing,"

The Emperor tightened his arms around her, "Never. We will leave peacefully and grow old together. I knew from the start you would never do something like this. But I am The Emperor before I am your husband, so the law must be upheld. Had I not investigated, I wouldn't have known a few disloyal servants tried to harm you,"

Running her hand across the silken fabric of his back, Xiang gui ren replied, "You've found the culprits, then?"

"The Empress is investigating," he said, "Enough of this talk, come,"

The Emperor led Xiang gui ren into his bedroom. He sat her at the vanity and began to pick the accessories out of her hair. Xiang gui ren fought to keep the downtrodden look on her face.

"Jiayi told me that Jiang jiejie's servants did this. I always knew she was too nice,"

The Emperor paused, "What do you mean?"

"Jiejie has a good heart, but she's really still so young. She treats her servants like family, and they take advantage. Hopefully, Her Highness gets to the bottom of this, or I fear something like this will happen again,"

Xiang gui ren sighed as The Emperor finally pulled her hairpiece free. Next, she removed her jewelry and rubbed her neck.

"When did Your Majesty get so good and undoing hair like this?" she asked

With a quiet laugh, he bent down and kissed her neck, the soft bristles of his mustache tickling.

"Her Highness' hands tend to swell when she's pregnant. Lucky for you, I helped her first, so we don't have to call for help when I tangle your hair,"

He stepped away so his servants could undress him. Xiang gui ren did the same. When their jobs were finished, the servants left, and the couple crawled under the covers. Xiang gui ren laid her head on The Emperor's chest.

"I wonder what I'll look like when if I get pregnant," she said before peering up at him, "Would you still love me if I become all swollen and awful?"

"Of course,"

"Even if my hair fell out?"

"Of course,"

"Even if teeth went brown?"

"Of course,"

"Even–"

The Emperor cut her off with a sweet kiss, "Huifen, we can worry about this when you get pregnant,"

"When?" She said against his lips, "Your Majesty, at my age, you know that might not happen,"

"I'm The Emperor. If I want it to happen, it will," He rubbed a warm hand across her cheek, "And I want this very, very much,"

––

Jiang gui ren pressed a peeled grape to The Emperor's lips before returning her attention to the stage before her. Since the investigation, she had been sitting on pins and needles, waiting for the other shoe to drop. For two weeks Wang gugu and Shiyi gugu trawled through the Forbidden City, sniffing for clues. In the end, only two people were punished, some no-name maids from the A Ge Suo.

She was annoyed that things didn't turn out even with Shen huang gui fei's help, but there wasn't much she could do about it now. At the very least, His Majesty was spending more time with her. Of course, she would've preferred that he flipped her tag, but watching an opera together was fine, too.

"Your Majesty, aren't you bored seeing the same opera over and over again?" She asked.

The Butterfly Lovers was her favorite opera. In her eyes, nothing could compare. His Majesty had put the play on at her request so often that Jiang gui ren recited the words in her sleep.

"I'll put it on 1,000 times more to see you smile," The Emperor replied.

Jiang gui ren hid her face behind her fan, embarrassed by his bold words, "Your Majesty is too gracious,"

"Oh? So you don't want the gift I have for you?"

A gift?

Perhaps it was a promotion? That little thing, Fan gui ren was tossed one for sticking her nose where it didn't belong. There was no reason she couldn't get one, too! Jiang gui ren glanced at Susu, who looked just as eager to see the gift as she was.

"Your Majesty, don't tease," said Jiang gui ren with a pout.

The Emperor laughed before nodding his head.

Wang gugu clapped her hands, and a stream of servants filed into the courtyard. They were older, with bowed backs and grayed hair.

"These folks used to serve The Late Emperor. They did their jobs so well that each of their families was given good land and a stipend to retire on"

"This servant doesn't deserve Your Majesty's grace," the servants replied.

The Emperor smiled, "Cui momo and Yao gonggong were some of the Late Emperor's closest servants. I saw them as much as I saw him. Seeing them now brings back many fond memories,"

Jiang gui ren nodded along, confused.

"What do you think of them?" The Emperor asked.

"If Your Majesty speaks warmly of them, they can only be good," said Jiang gui ren.

"Good! They're yours," The Emperor declared.

Jiang gui ren smiled. She would have eight servants again! And this time, they wouldn't be on loan. That would put Xiang gui ren and that rat Fan gui ren in their place. She bowed to him.

"This concubine thanks you for your grace,"

"Rise,"

Susu helped Jiang gui ren back into her chair.

"Guards!" Called Zhang Wei gonggong, "Seize them,"

Jiang gui ren watched in shock as the guards rounded up her servants.

"Wait!" She said as she jumped out of her chair, "What are you doing?! Wei gonggong, you can't do this!"

Zhang Wei bowed his head with a soft smile, "Jiang gui ren, these lowly slaves are rebellious and unruly. They dared to frame Xiang gui ren. His Majesty has granted them death,"

Jiang gui ren flinched a Susu's loud whimpers.

A heavy hand dropped onto Jiang gui ren's shoulder. She turned to The Emperor and grabbed his arm.

"Your Majesty, what's happening?" She cried.

Wang gugu came to stand in front of Jiang gui ren.

"The Empress investigated the incident involving Xiang gui ren and the princesses and found that Haoyu gonggong paid a cleaning maid to slip the paintings into the gifts Xiang gui ren sent over."

The Emperor squeezed Jiang gui ren's shoulder softly, "It won't do to have someone of your standing served by such people. So I asked The Late Emperor's former servants to travel back to the Forbidden City to serve you,"

"Susu and Haoyu would never do something like that, Your Majesty," said Jiang gui ren, her voice shaking, "They're innocent. Your Majesty–"

The sound of the opera reached a screeching crescendo that blighted Jiang gui ren's ears. The Emperor slid his hand away and stared down at her.

"Her Highness was merciful for not finding fault in you for having such treacherous servants. Was she wrong?"

Jiang gui ren swallowed. There was nothing she could do.

"Of course not, Your Majesty," said Jiang gui ren.

A maid that Jiang gui ren didn't remember the name of cried out, "Have mercy, Your Majesty!"

The dam burst, and then all the servants began begging and lamenting for mercy as they were dragged away. Jiang gui ren clenched her fists and smiled blankly at the stage through tears.

––

When Jiang gui ren arrived that night to serve His Majesty, Wang gugu almost couldn't believe her eyes. The woman who stepped out of the carriage was wearing a plain white chenyi, dotted with pink flowers. Her hairpiece was modest in size and there wasn't a single bit of gold to be found. This wasn't unusual attire for a Noble Lady, but for Jiang gui ren? It was practically a joke. Clearly, her new servants dressed her based on her status and not her ego. It almost made Wang gugu smile. There was a sullen pout on the concubine's face and her neck was pink with embarrassment.

Wang gugu led Jiang gui ren into The Emperor's bedroom and closed the door behind them. She nodded to Zhang Wei, who was standing just outside the doors.

Standing a few feet away, Wang gugu thought of her tasks for the next day. The Empress Dowager's birthday was in two months, so the time to source gifts was now. The Empress Dowager was a very particular woman regarding gifts, especially from The Emperor. At 68 years old, very few things dazzled her anymore. So perhaps Wang gugu would suggest the Emperor see if a few Western trinkets would interest in her or maybe an addition to Cininggong would be better.

"Zhang Wei!"

The Emperor's voice rang out into the night, startling Wang gugu from her musings. Zhang Wei jumped to attention and darted inside the bedroom. Wang gugu crept closer, wondering if she had imagined the panic in The Emperor's voice.

Zhang Wei stumbled back outside and waved her over, "Gugu, come inside, please,"

"What's wrong?" She asked.

"It's Jiang gui ren,"

She followed after him. The Emperor stood by his bed, looking down at Jiang gui ren.

"Your Majesty," Wang gugu greeted.

The Emperor ran a hand down his face and nodded towards Jiang gui ren, "Attend to her,"

He held out his hand, and Zhang Wei led him outside.

Wang gugu stepped closer to the bed where Jiang gui ren was writhing under the covers. Upon closer inspection, she realized that the concubine was writhing but itching. Wang gugu brought a lantern close to the bed, dragged down the sheets, and fought back a gasp.

The blush that Jiang gui ren was sporting earlier wasn't a blush, but a rash. The bright pink splotches covered her skin and was accompanied by small weeping pustules. Jiang gui ren's face fared no better. Her lips and eyes were swollen with irritation.

Biting back a sigh, Wang gugu called for the servants. Whatever was happening to Jiang gui ren couldn't occur in the presence of His Majesty. Yangxindian would have to be scrubbed top to bottom because of this.

"Jiang gui ren is ill," said Wang gugu to the junior eunuchs that filed inside the bedroom, "Take her back to Xianfugong. Burn your clothes and wash yourself well when you return,"

The eunuchs rolled Jiang gui ren up in the blanket and hoisted her away. Wang gugu called for the maids and told them to burn the sheets and pillows and open all the windows.

It was going to be a long night.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

(You can vote for this story on wattpad here)

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biblicallyaccuratetrain · 3 years

Text

Okay, but like, what exactly did Aguni do that made Niragi and Last Boss respect him so much?

Hit me with the dumbest, yet most in character explanations you can come up with.

#i'll go first:#He either a)#punched a tiger in the face right in front of them #and has since continued doing this regularly #or b)#grabbed them by their shirt's collar #lifted them up #and shook them like some unruly pet #shit post #alice in borderland #alice in borderland netflix #imawa no kuni no alice #aib #aguni #morizono aguni #suguru niragi #niragi #last boss

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gabriels-wings-of-freedom · 2 years

Note

Can you do #33 with Cas, it can be very funny knowing Castiel! 😂 I love your writings! ❤

Absolutely!😂 Cas is fun to write for🥰 and thank you so much!❤❤

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Crowley

Castiel gets you a new pet with a familiar name.

#33 “I wanted to surprise you.”

“They mystery of the disappearing angel.” Dean said to both you and Sam as you guys drove down the highway.

"Where could he have flown off to this time?” You said with a small smile and shake of your head. You were never one to worry for Castiel. I mean, he was an angel of the Lord, and while he had enemies, he was still a powerful being.

“Did you pray to him?” Sam asked Dean as they began to pull into Bobby’s.

“Of course I did, and bumpkiss.” Dean said, and then Sam turned to you in which you responded with a shrug.

“He didn’t appear to me either.” You told them, making Sam sigh and Dean leave the car in a frustrated state. You knew you had a strong bond one with Cas, it could even rival his with Dean, so you didn’t understand what he could’ve gotten caught up with.

“Guys, it’s Castiel. Don’t forget that he can handle himself quite well.” You told them while following them into the house.

“We’re not worried for him. We’re worried for us. We can’t lose the only angel up our sleeve.” Dean said while opening the door. His comment caused Sam to nudge him.

“How’d you guys get on?” Bobby asked the three of you from his place at the table. Dean still had a frown on his face, but Sam gave the older man a smile to show all went well. Dean disappeared into the living room as you and Sam stayed with Bobby, who was rather confused.

“What’s princess got shoved up his ass?” He asked the two of you.

“We kind of got in a pickle, and-” Sam started to say.

“-and Castiel didn’t come when we called.” You finished for him while folding your arms. Bobby just put his face in his hands. He was just starting to relax, and really didn’t want to deal with another problem.

A loud crash sounded from upstairs. In the general vicinity of where you stayed.

“I’ll go check that out.” You said while quickly turning towards the stairs after telling the others to remain where they were. You were a bit cautious as you slowly approached the closed door to your room. Sounds could still be heard from inside, but there was also a familiar voice.

You holstered your gun.

Slowly, you walked towards your room and gripped the door handle. After hearing one more crash, you whipped your door open. Quicker than the speed of light, a black cat ran between your legs and down the stairs.

“Get back here!” Castiel nearly rammed into you but managed to stop a few paces. You started to giggle at the sight of him. The angel’s trench coat was falling off the right side of his body, his tie was undone, his hair was a mess, and he seemed out of breath.

“Hello Y/N.” He said with a slight smile before adjusting his appearance, acting like he wasn’t just chasing some random cat around your room.

“Cas? I want to address the elephant in the room, but...” You trailed off as you saw him looking confused.

“There is no elephant.” He said before looking back into your room, like he missed it or something. You shook your head with a bit of a laugh.

“Not literally, I mean, why were you chasing a cat around my room. Last time I checked, we didn’t own a cat.” You said, now realizing where he must’ve been when you guys called for him.

“I wanted to surprise you.” Castiel confessed, looking down at shoes, slightly disappointed that he was caught.

“What do you mean?” You asked as you began to help him with his tie, making the poor angel blush slightly.

“I know that you’ve always wanted a cat, so I thought I could surprise you with one, but...he’s rather unruly when it comes to viewing me as his superior.” Castiel explained the presence of the animal, which made you smile at his thoughtfulness.

“I could tell.” You laughed a bit as Cas smiled sheepishly.

“You’re very sweet. Thank you, Cas.” You leaned up to kiss the angel on the cheek. He swooned at your touch, but you soon pulled away, causing him to frown a bit. However, you were still smiling, which soon caused him to smile as well.

He felt quite proud of himself.

Then there was a large crash coming from downstairs, followed by angry masculine screams.

“I think Dean found the cat.” Castiel said in that monotone voice of his. You started to laugh before grabbing his hand and stating that he should probably explain himself...

“This is what you were doing while we nearly got our asses eaten by ghouls...cat sitting?!” Dean exclaimed as the black cat sat in the couch beside you and Cas, calmly licking itself. Bobby decided to leave the situation, he’s too old for this shit, and Sam was sitting on a chair nearby.

“Well, technically, he belongs to Y/N. The cat was a gift.” The angel said while turning to smile at you. You returned the smile and placed a hand on his knee to show you were grateful.

“Look, just keep that thing from under control from now on.” Dean said, still having an anxiety attack when it barreled into his legs.

“I promise Dean. We’ll keep Crowley under control.” Cas promised, and everyone looked at him.

“You named the cat Crowley?” Sam asked as Dean tried to process the situation. Cas started to pet the cat along with you, who was now purring as his “parents” gave him some love.

“I felt it was fitting. He thinks he’s above others, is only nice to you when he wants something, and lets others do his dirty work.” The angel explained, causing you to laugh.

“I wonder how Crowley would react to that one.” You said with a grin causing Cas to smile as well. You then continued to baby the cat, who seemed to really like you. Castiel was just proud he was able to come through and get you a nice surprise.

He hopes to do more of that in the future.

Our baby angel finally got his cat.

#supernatural #supernatural imagines #supernatural x reader #castiel #castiel x reader #castiel imagine

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forever-rogue · 3 years

Note

Idk if you’re still taking Bucky requests, but I came across a quote and I feel in love with it because it just screamed Bucky to me. It read: “there is nothing as beautiful as seeing someone who has been unlucky, finally being loved so effortlessly by the right person” if this sparks anything in you, I would love to read it 💜

Pairing | Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 1.9k

Warnings | dad!Bucky, slight language, slight suggestive theme

Masterlists | Bucky, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Bucky bit back a yawn as he closed the car door and headed towards the front door. The smell of spring, the freshly mowed grass and blooming flowers overwhelmed his senses along with the warm summer sun hitting his skin. This was nice, he realized, the calculated simplicity and domestic nature of it all. He hiked his bag on his shoulder, the gold in his vibranium arm glinting brilliantly in the slowly dying light of the day. He didn’t bother to hide it anymore, somehow long past that part of his life. At one point he never thought he’d reach that point in his life and now he had the world in front of him.

Walking up the stairs, he smiled to himself as he could already smell something delicious cooking through the open windows. In a vain attempt to keep the household from falling into complete and utter chaos, he slowly opened the door and tried to tip-toe inside. He managed to get about two feet inside and kick off his work boots before he heard an exciting squeal followed by a few loud woofs.

The pitter-patter of two small feet and four paws quickly reached him as Falcon, the trusted family dog, and Emily, your oldest daughter, ran down the hall towards him. Any stress he had remaining quickly melted away at the sight of two of his favorite beings as they almost knocked him over in their rush.

“Daddy!” an excited shout was followed by another bark. He bent down and scooped the small girl in his arms, the weight of the world off his shoulders as she wrapped her little arms around his neck, “hi daddy, you’re home!”

“Of course I am,” he propped her on his hip and studied her sweet little face. She took after him with his dark unruly hair and ocean eyes, but the rest he swore was all you, especially that sweet smile, “I’ll always come home to my sweetest girl. Did you have a good day, baby?”

“Yeah,” she nodded excitedly as he brushed her hair out of her face and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, “mama and I painted and then we planted some new flowers. She said she picked them out because they reminded her of you!”

“She did, did she?” he couldn’t stop the grin that spread from ear to ear as his heart fluttered in his chest. Even to this day you still managed to make him weak in the knees and set off butterflies in his belly. He held Emily tightly in his grip as he bent down to give Falcon a few pets, causing the dog to rub against his legs as he wagged his tail, “what would I do without my little hellraisers?”

“Mama says that’s a bad word!” Emily looked at him with wide eyes and he chuckled softly before holding a finger to his lips.

“It’s our little secret,” he whispered as she nodded, “do you know why this secret is okay?”

“Because it’s not gonna hurt anyone,” she asked as he nodded. She gave him a wide gap toothed grin as he set her back down, “will you play with me later, daddy? Falcon wants to have a tea party!”

“Of course,” he promised his daughter as she held tightly onto his hand, “now go and get cleaned up for dinner. It smells like it should all be done soon.”

“Okie dokie,” she dropped his hand and motioned for Falcon to follow her instead, practically bouncing up the stairs.

Bucky sighed in content as he shook his head before slowly making his way into the kitchen where he was sure you were. He found at the island, brows furrowed in concentration as you chopped vegetables for the salad. Your baby boy was slung around your chest, and despite the commotion from Bucky’s entrance, he was fast asleep. A lump welled up in his throat as he watched the sight. It would be nothing special to most people, but to him it was everything.

You looked so beautiful, even in your sweatpants and t-shirt with your hair a chaotic bun as you hummed to the baby under your breath. You looked tired and he felt bad for a moment; leaving you with a toddler and a baby was a ton of work and he would have gladly stayed home with you and helped, but you were insistent that he work if he wanted. You’d never hold it against him, he knew that.

As soon as you sensed you his presence in the kitchen, you turned to him and gave him a soft smile, and his own features softened even more, “hello, my love. I’m so glad you’re so home!”

You set down the knife before slowly making your way over to him, careful not to disturb the baby as he immediately leaned down to kiss you. Your whole body was practically humming from his touch as you stole you a few more kisses, “rough day? You should have called me and I could have come home, honey baby.”

“It wasn’t bad actually,” you promised, watching with nothing but adoration in your eyes as he stroked Stevie’s chubby little cheek, “the chaos duo was on their best behavior today and the little one has been sleeping most of the day. I think he wore himself out from all his fussing last night.”

“Miracles do happen,” he laughed lightly as his hand went to your face and he gently stroked your cheek. You grinned at him, keening into his touch like a cat to the sun, “you are so beautiful.”

“Shut up,” you playfully pushed his chest before hiding your face behind your hands. Funny, how even after all this time he still managed to make you feel nervous and shy, “I’m in my ugliest mom clothes which I’m pretty sure these sweats have permanent puke stains, I haven’t showered today and I look like I haven’t slept in five years. Hardly beautiful.”

“You are the most gorgeous woman I have ever laid eyes on regardless of all of that,” he insisted softly, reaching for your hands and pulling them away from your face. Your whole body flushed with pleasant warmth as you looked into his eyes, “and I love you more than anything in this world.”

“You’re just saying that ‘cause I let you knock me up twice,” you joked as he playfully rolled his eyes, “god, Bucky, how do you still make me feel like this?”

“Like what?” he asked as he slowly moved to undo the sling from your chest and take the baby from you. Stevie made a few small sounds before cuddling up on Bucky’s chest.

“Like I’m still falling in love with you every day,” you whispered as you leaned in and let him wrap arm around you as well. He kissed the top of your head before sighing in content, “I guess I am. We’re a little different every day - we’re definitely not the same fools from when we first met, huh?”

“I mean, we’re married and have kids, and the whole you know, typical suburban thing going on,” he teased, “so I’d say we’re pretty different. But you’re still my favorite pain in the ass.”

“James!” your eyes widened before the two of you broke into a fit of giggles, “I will get you back for that later!”

“Oh, I definitely count on it,” he promised, “now, go and take a few moments to yourself, shower or whatever, and I’ll finish dinner and get the kiddos and Falcon settled.”

“Whatever would I do without you, my love?”

“I think the better question is what would I do without you, honey baby?”

You blew him a little kiss as you all but ran towards the stairs in order to fit in a quick shower. Sometimes even ten minutes of peace and quiet would suffice. Bucky watched you go with a soft smile on his face, before turning his attention back to his softly cooing son, “your mama’s the best person in this entire world, I hope you always know that.”

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“What?” you could feel Bucky’s eyes on your back as you brushed your teeth in the bathroom en suite. He was sitting in bed, winding down with some television as he waited for you, “I can feel you checking out the goods, Barnes.”

“That’s because I am,” you could practically hear the cheeky smirk in his voice, “it’s not wrong to admire, is it?”

“You’re too much,” you dried your face off before making your way back over to him. He offered you a lazy smile as he pulled back your side of the blankets and made room for you. You were only wearing his shirt and a pair of old cotton panties but he was watching you like you were the best in this world. Because to him - you were. The end all and be all, “James? What’s wrong, honey?”

“Nothing,” he whispered as he immediately reached for you and gently pulled you into his lap. You made a small sound of surprise but easily gave into his touch, “nothing at all. I’m perfect.”

“Hmm,” you leaned in and pressed a light kiss to his plump lips, gently tugging on his dog tags, “me too. I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this, but I kind of like you a lot.”

“Is that why you married me? Had two kids with me? Got the dog?” he raised a brow as you carded a hand through his dark locks, scratching lightly at his scalp, “I bet it was all for the dog.”

“He didn’t hurt,” you joked, gently stroking his cheek, “but you aren’t so bad either. I love you, Bucky. So much. I hope you know. I hope you know you deserve this, everything we have - the whole world.”

“I…” he paused for a moment, suddenly feeling overwhelmed as you showed him so much tenderness and delicate love, “I love you too.”

“Hey,” you put your hand under your chin and turned his face up towards yours, “I mean it James Buchanan Barnes. You have been through so much, so much that other people forced on you, and you deserve happiness. You deserve all the happiness this world has to offer. I know you have some bad days, and I understand that, but I want you to know I will always be here for you and I will always love you. You are my best friend, my husband, the father of my children, you are my everything.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he took your hand in his and pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“Yes,” you insisted softly, “you do, James.”

“I-”

“How about for one moment you hush up,” you pushed him back against the headboard and pressed a few gentle, lazy kisses to his lips, “and just listen to me. And let me love you.”

“I love you, honey baby.”

“I love you too, James.”

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@qhbr2013 @greeneyedblondie44 @april-showers-and-flowers @softboiipascal @im-an-adult-ish @patzammit @niki-xie @xxlovingfandomsxx @startrekkingaroundasgard @welcometothepedroverse @actual-spawn-of-satan @punkerthanpascal @lazybeeches @someday-when-you-leave-me @justgivemethekeys @salome-c @rosiefridayrogersunday @neptunesglow @artsymaddie @haildoodles @amneris21 @star017 @irepostthingsiwanttoseelater @its–fandom–darling @ayamenimthiriel @alyispunk @djarinbarnes @edencherries @ashamed23 @sunsetskywalkerr @nikkixostan @spookispunk @cable-kenobi @hrtsgetbrkn @ironicfoxes @iilwjbb @cc13723things @thenormreedus @gooddaykate @natthebattygeologist @sociallyantisocialbutterfly @n3ssm0nique @daughterofthenight117 @riddikulus-obsessions @imaginelover88 @saint-bvcky @banana-cheese-cake @sleep-tight1 @missstef23 @moonlacebeam @asylummara @wakandabiitch2 @hoodedbirdie @mysweetlittledesire @reallyloudstarlight @vintagepigeon @froggyy06 @fleurydelacoury @veil-of-time @queenbeean

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

Note

2k followers blurb for teen wolf!! I would love the Hale Pack watching Twilight with the reader, who knows just a little bit about the supernatural world (so, yeah, her werewolf reference is JACOB haha). Congrats on the 2k followers!!

thankyou hun!!!! 😁

Twilight

Pairings | Hale pack x platonic!human!reader

Summary | based on the request

Warnings | brief mention of nudity and drugs, fluff, ‘naive’ reader, slight bashing of Scott (as a joke, it’s not serious),

2K blurb masterlist

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

The bowl of popcorn was in the space of your lap, as Isaac reached across to grab a handful, throwing some at Boyd, who only shook his head at his pack mate’s behaviour. Eric sat on your other side, Boyd beside her, as she wore a baggy grey sweatshirt, her hair up in a ponytail. She looked quite similar to how she did before, minus the acne that had miraculously healed.

“The drama is tense.” Boyd snorted at Isaac’s sarcastic remark, more so when he earned and elbow in the side from yourself. He dropped a couple of pieces of the movie snack food, sighing at the consequences of your words, before digging for another shovel of the cornels.

“It’s a movie Isaac.” Eric stated, shaking her blonde head at the unruly haired boy. “Of course it’s going to be far fetched, vampires don’t exist, much less sparkle in the sunlight.”

“Vampires could exist.” Boyd spoke, unknowing of how much was really out there. “I mean, it wouldn’t be the strangest thing in the world. As we know, this town has always had some weird shit going on.”

“I mean, Scott McCall’s a werewolf, so maybe.” You shrugged, watching as Taylor Launtner came upon the screen as Jacob Black. You stretched forwards, licking your lips at the sight of his bare torso. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, Scott is not ugly. But why can’t there be cool and mysterious werewolves like that?” Your hands gestures towards the screen.

“You mean the type that turn into big dogs, and imprint on people. Yeah, that’s so attractive y/n, let me just undress before your eyes, strip down naked, and run through the woods as a dog on steroids.” Isaac retorted, leaning his head against the bottom of the sofa, which none of you were seated on.

Instead, the lot of you were perched on the floor below the furniture, pillows and blankets piled around you, as you all sat in a tight knitted line, the light of the ever moving screen highlighting upon your faces.

“I thought you said you’ve never seen this before.” Erica quirked her cosmetic free brow, coercing the friend that she had put on the spot to stumble over his words for a reasonable excuse.

“I haven’t...” He frowned, trying his utmost to act convincing. “but what is wrong with real werewolves, they’re kinda cool, and scary, right?”

“At least as wolves, you wanna pet them and ruffle their fur, not take a razor to their face to get rid of the excessive facial hair. And not to mention, they look like they’ve had a facelift that did not lifting at all.” You smirked, unknowing of how Isaac especially took it as an insult.

That was the thing; you had been informed about Scott and his constant mess of a life, so that you were aware of the potential threats that lurked, although McCall and his sidekick were far but threatening. But they had managed to leave out a significant detail...

That they too were creatures that bade under the full moon, and Derek, whose premises you were currently on, was their alpha. The man himself, adjoined with his sour exterior walked into the room, lowering his head to silently tell Isaac to say nothing more.

It wasn’t that he and they didn’t trust you, in fact it was quite the opposite. They would each put their lives in your hands if it was crucial, but informing you of the dangers that prowled within Beacon Hills would create a shifting balance in your chances of survival.

There was no question about it, they wanted you to remain naive, and continue on with your life, as though you were a normal teenager, with little knowledge of the truth.

“What are you all doing?” The broody man crossed his arms, tilting his jaw as he watched you shuffle more buttered pieces into your mouth, innocently staring towards him, and then your eyes flickered back to the screen.

“Movie night.” Boyd shrugged, shuffling closer to Erica, and pulling a spare blanket out, offering it to his alpha, as to invite him in the evening comfort.

“We’re watching trash cinematography, that is literally making me question my existence.” Isaac leaned his head back, huffing at the ceiling, and as he breathed, you dropped popcorn into his mouth from above, which made him cough for a second, before he began to crunch into the delicacy. “Thank you.” He mumbled through his full mouth.

“It has a good soundtrack.” Erica admitted, having watched it plenty of times before she had been turned. In fact, she had been obsessed with it, watching it had been a comfort strategy for her, and now she was no longer alone whilst viewing the film series.

“The effects aren’t terrible either.” Boyd prompted, smiling as Derek joined them, but still kept a little bit of space to pursue his dominance in their golden hidden eyes.

“It’s called twilight.” You noted, focusing entirely back to the screen again, as you brought your knees up to your chin, using the bone as a head rest. “The books are better, but I suppose you don’t have much time to read.”

“Why’s that?” He asked, his black brows affirming into a light and curious frown. You shrugged, kicking your legs out and resting the crown of your head upon the sofa cushions behind.

“What with running a pack of these idiots, and keeping McCall in check, I’d say your hands are pretty full.” You blatantly stated, not thinking much of it. Though, apparently they did as all their eyes zeroed in on you, staring at you with shock. “What?”

“You know?!”

#teen wolf fanfiction #Hale pack x reader #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf #imagines #imagine #xreader #teen wolf x you #teen wolf fandom #teenwolf #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf x reader imagines #teen wolf prompt #teen wolf x platonic reader #teen wolf blurb #teen wolf reader insert #teen wolf one shot #teen wolf fic #teen wolf x y/n

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showrunnerihardlyknowher · 3 years

Note

Idk about you but that trope where a giant gets angry and accidentally scares a tiny and feels bad abt it afterwards makes me go absolutely feral,,

So, originally, I was planning for this scene to be in a future chapter of This Is Nothing Like The Disney Star Wars Trilogy, but I could never really think of a full story arc around it, even though I still really really really love this idea. In any case, if I happen to brainstorm a better plot and find a way to squeeze this in I might edit it into the main story, otherwise enjoy some classic Giant Catboi and Twink Solider fearplay >:3c

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that was!?”

As expected, the little one did not respond to his rhetorical question, though his tone certainly helped snap it out of its previous stupor as it released its death grip on his shirt in favor of squirming as soon as the bedroom door slid shut behind him. His aggravation at the situation was clear as day even without the usual language and cultural barrier that impeded any sort of deeper relationship Edix tried to form with the human. Red ears were still folded back against his curls and his shoulders tense, the stiff posture traveling down to his hands were they gripped the earthling to his chest perhaps just a touch more tightly than usual, not that it prevented it from trying to push and wriggle itself out of his overprotective hold.

Fuck no, he wasn’t ready to let it go yet, not when flecks of blood were still smeared against his knuckles as a result of an impromptu rescue mission. The satisfying snap of cartilage under his fist after one good sucker punch to Talan’s smug face still echoed in his mind, blood gushing from the surely broken nose while the biologist stumbled backwards into the shelves. Edix wondered if he would be reprimanded for that by the directors later, or if Talan would be too proud to report the ass kicking, maybe even taking the lesson to heart to not fuck with his things in the future. And yes, that included trying to vivisect his sweet little pet.

How was I supposed to know the stray belonged to you? He had asked with sarcastic innocence, as if the human in question hadn’t been seen with Edix a thousand times before, and wasn’t drenched in his scent, and didn’t have his ID code printed on the back of its little suit, Maybe if you weren’t such a wuss and actually put it on a shorter leash-

Asshole. He was lucky Edix’s only goal at the moment was to get the little one off the table and back to the appropriate sector rather than rip Talan to shreds with his own tools. A taste of his own medicine, perhaps. Still, he admittedly did have a point about the human, what with how much it would run off and get lost and damn near killed. He simply couldn’t figure out what was so terrible about staying in his company that the little one would risk injury and mutilation in a foreign environment as opposed to the safety and comfort he so desperately tried to provide for it. They might have had a bit of a rocky start, sure, but stars above that was far in the past now. There’s nothing either of them can do to change the facts so why not accept things as they are and make some type of effort to be happy in this new life? By all accounts, Edix was a great owner!

And yet, the little one still fought him every step of the way. Even now, having just saved it from a fate of having its tiny organs sliced while it was wide awake, it made it known it did not want to be near him anymore. It might have been clinging to him the entire walk back to the bedroom, but it must have remembered it was supposed to be oblivious to the notion of genuine love and safety because now it started to stutter out little squeaks on top of struggling. Normally, Edix adored any and all of the sounds it made, especially when it was directly trying to talk to him which only served to give him the mental image of a pup mindlessly babbling before they managed their first few words. This time, however, it only worsened his irritation.

“Stop.” He ordered, which the human somewhat complied with, though it probably had more to do with his harsher tone and the fact that he was already lowering his hand towards the bed to set it down. As soon as it was free of his hold, it scrambled back, looking at him with those wide brown eyes that were full of so much fear it made him sick. Why did it have to be so afraid of him? What could he have possibly done that even now, almost a cycle later, it was still overtly wary of his intentions. All he ever did was care for it. Feed it, pet it, cuddle it, protect it, and still nothing was good enough!

With a tired sigh, he rubbed his hand down his face and resisted the urge to tug at his hair. “I just don’t understand,” he pleaded, begging some cosmic being out there to suddenly grant the little one the power to understand what he was saying, “what can I possibly do to prove to you that I’m not going to hurt you? I’m trying to keep you alive and it’s like...I don’t know, you resent me for that or something!”

The sweet thing looked more confused at his words than anything, but he could tell his body language and voice were making it uneasy. The human was used to soft words and purrs and slow movements, rarely any agitation in his being. After a beat of silence marked by an intense stare down, Edix gave up on hoping the earthling would miraculously explain itself and open up to sharing its thoughts on the matter. He reached for it and it instinctively back up, flinching when a growl rumbled in his throat in response.

“Stop running,” it was a fruitless endeavor, but like hell if he wouldn’t stop trying. That was how new pups learned how to understand a language anyways, wasn’t it? To repeat certain words over and over until they got the idea? Maybe that’s all he needed to do here, maybe by now it already knew the Venandi words for no, stop, be good, and so on. He reached for it again and it did the same thing as last time, always sure to stay just out of the most convenient reach. Not that it mattered how much it inched away seeing how it was trapped on the bed with Edix directly in front of it, but it was the principal of the matter.

And it was then that something inside him snapped. Something primal as a result of dealing with an unruly pup far too long for his nerves to handle at this moment. He wasn’t even aware of his actions, belatedly realizing how he pounced on the bed in a flash, the human scrambling to get away but only having enough time to turn around before being roughly pinned on its stomach against the mattress. His teeth were bared and pressed tightly against its back, fangs scraping against the layers of its clothes to no doubt bruise the tender flesh underneath, though thankfully they didn’t break the skin. A loud growl reverberated though its entire body, shaking it to its core.

“Enough.” He hissed against its back, keeping his teeth pressed into its skinny frame for a moment longer before pulling away. The second he did, his glare softened, all the anger he felt gone in an instant as soon as he saw the sight underneath him.

The poor thing was absolutely petrified.

It was probably the worst it’s ever been scared, arguably. Not even the first time they met, when it had so gracefully tumbled down that hill and landed face first in front of him, compared to the level of fear that radiated off it. A split-second thought had Edix wondering if he had legitimately scared it to death. Soon enough, though, he was able to pick up the minute tremors that shook through it, almost like an aftershock of the warning that it felt more than heard. It was pale, baby face devoid of color not unlike that time before when it had been sick with fever. But its eyes...those sweet little doe eyes he loved so much were wide and wet with a sheen of tears that refused to fall, locked in a blank stare straight ahead towards the wall and refusing to look at him.

A small, choked hiccup made its body twitch every couple of breaths, but it refused to open its mouth to allow any of these sniffles to turn into cries. Shit, it refused to move at all, too terrified of Edix’s threat display that if it did anything he didn’t like there would be dire consequences to pay. He supposed it worked exactly as intended, in that case. It was still, it was quiet, it was technically obeying him after he just forced it to behave via alternative punishment. That didn’t change the fact that he felt absolutely, terribly, extremely awful about what he just did.

It was just a pup, as he always said, regardless of what Ylva would tell him about human adolescence and such. It didn’t know any better, it had never been raised in these situations before and needed much longer than a measly cycle to unlearn all of its prey behaviors it needed to survive on its home planet. Besides, it wasn’t that it didn’t fully know that it was perfectly safe with Edix, it was smart enough to know he was at the very least the safest option when presented with any other Venandi. Edix had been upset, and it knew he was upset, so of course it would want to avoid a potentially hostile predator before-

--before it snatched the little one in its teeth.

Fuck, fuck, he was an idiot. Maybe he wasn’t as cut out for this as he thought, not like Ylva who was the very essence of motherhood. No. Now wasn’t the time for self doubts and pity, not when the human was in such a state. Slowly, hands cupped around its shaking form, mindful to make sure his fingers were in its view so it wouldn’t be any more startled when he lifted it up, not that he was completely sure it was actually seeing anything in front of it. The little one hardly reacted to the movement, laying limp when he pressed it against his chest and moved to sit up against the headboard of the bed in a similar fashion to what he had done the first night the poor thing was on the ship.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s okay,” he whispered to it, rubbing his thumb along the curve of its back just how it liked whenever it dozed, “you’re okay, we’re fine, it’s okay to cry. I’m sorry I scared you, I’m so sorry.”

Normally in these types of instances, he’d be purring and shushing the little sweetheart until he was able to get it down for a nap, but he had little confidence that any other types of chest vibrations would have its usual effect of making the human drowsy currently. When it finally started blinking again, the tears that had welled up ran freely down its cheeks, quickly biting down on its wobbling lip to prevent any sobs from escaping and get it in trouble for misbehaving. He softly clicked his tongue at it and cooed, anything to put it at ease with a softer demeanor. “I know, honey, I know. I won’t ever do that again, I promise."

Well, if nothing else, at least the little one’s apprehension of him wasn’t unfounded anymore, much to his dismay.

#g/t #fearplay #g/t writing #g/t fearplay #giant/tiny #macro/micro #my writing #ask #anon #g/t ocs #all i can say is :3c #also i didnt skip math class i skipped english class instead hsjfhdfjhfjjsf

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wish-i-wasnt-a-coward · 3 years

Text

Books and Anxiety: Dating edition

a/n: sooo, I know this isn’t actually in the right order BUT. This story absolute slaps, like I’ve never been prouder of my writing. Historical AUs my beloved. If you enjoy this shit to give it some love folks, pls.

Parings: analogical, very background brotherly prinxiety and dukexiety as well as platonic logicality

Warnings: a little bit of self deprecation, anxiety (this is Virgils pov), and one sex mention at the very end (just skip the bonus to avoid it)

Word count: 1,260

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Virgil tapped his foot. Why had he thought this was a good idea. Stupid. Too many things could go wrong, they could get kicked out of the Library, Logan could decide he wasn’t worth the energy, Logan might not even show up! Maybe he had already realized how awful Virgil was and never wanted to see him again.

He glanced at his watch, 4:46. Okay, Logan was 15 minutes late, there are worse things to be. Plenty of things could have happened between the printing press and the downtown library.

Virgil watched as the horses trotted happily down the cobblestone street. Oh to be a horse. Free of cute boys who make your heart feel like it's gonna explode and then stand you up.

It was shocking that Logan even saw something in Vigil. He didn’t particularly like standing out. His dirty grey trench coat and cap helped him blend into the grimy shadows. He wasn’t good-looking or particularly smart and worked in a factory. Whereas Logan was a brilliant budding writer who was, to put it lightly, ridiculously gorgeous. Yet he had asked Virgil out.

Virgil rubbed his face, in his rush to get to the library he had forgotten to wash it (shut up, he was excited). He had used a ‘borrowed’ kerchief from his brother Roman but there was probably soot covering his entire body. If Logan was to show up who’s to say he wouldn’t take one look at Virgil and leave.

The man leaned against the tree behind him. Nodding to passersby and trying to look like he wasn’t screaming inside.

Few more minutes of torture later, Logan made an appearance. His worn brown jacket and blue tie flapped behind him as he sprinted across the street towards Virgil. He was missing his hat and his brown hair was disheveled. “I am so sorry” he panted.

Virgil put a hand on his shoulder, “s’ fine, I wasn’t here long” he said softly. Logan smiled, catching his breath, “thank goodness, I- well, I got caught up in an article and time escaped me, again” Virgil chuckled gently, “I could tell” he said, pointing to Logan’s ink-stained hands.

Logan flushed a little and accepted the offered kerchief, wiping his hands vigorously. “So uh, the library” Virgil nodded, “after you” he murmured and smiled down at Logan as the lovely man’s blush only deepened.

The downtown library was much smaller than the uptown one. It housed more rebellious volumes and the librarians were far nicer. It was an old brownstone that had been sold to the town a few years ago. The once lovely building was sorely neglected and had fallen into disrepair. The town didn’t want to spend much money on it, so they stuck some books inside.

All in all a perfect first date for two gay men in the early 1900’s.

The librarian waved happily at Logan as he entered the building, “well how do ya do Mr. Berry” Logan smiled “I’m quite well Mx. Heart, this is my um- this is Virgil Storm” Mx. Heat beamed. “Oh my! I heard so much about you, would it be alright if I hugged you. Ohhh” Virgil looked at Logan, baffled, who shrugged. Mx. Heart wrapped Virgil in an impressively strong hug before ushering the two away. After all, it was a date.

Virgil carefully walked through the crowded rows of books. Books were placed haphazardly on every available surface, the few desks had piles of books on and/or underneath them.

Despite the chaos, Logan seemed to know exactly where everything was. Virgil nervously looked away from his date towards one of the books on top of the pile.

‘The wild olive; by the basil king,’ someone liked food, goodness. Virgil put down the book and continued his search. His attention was caught by a big black book ‘spiders’ which was printed on the back in spindly silver font. Virgil’s breath caught slightly, as he picked up the heavy volume.

“Found something?” Logan asked, Virgil startled and nearly dropped the book, “sorry,” Logan said scratching his neck, Virgil shook his head, “It's fine, I did, uh- it’s a book on arachnids. When I lived in the country I had a pet spider but it was um- killed…”

“I’m sorry,” Logan said touching Virgil’s arm softly, “s fine, I mean- I wasn’t fine then” Virgil laughed awkwardly, “but it’s fine now” he shrugged. “Are we gonna find a desk or..” Logan shook his head, “no, I want to show you something”. He held out his hand, Virgil took it without hesitation.

Logan led Virgil across the room and into a small corner blocked off by a shelf. With his free hand, he pushed on the panels and it swung open like a door.

The stairs going down were broken and blocked off but those going up seemed sturdy. Virgil stayed alert and ready to grab Logan should something was to go wrong. That would be a great way to spend a date, falling through a staircase and dying.

The two made it up the stairs without incident. The room the staircase led to was also in disrepair but it had been patched up enough that no-one would be falling through the floor, though you never could tell. Virgil's brother Remus had taught him that.

There was a cracked stained glass window that let in shards of colored light illuminating the room with beautiful hues of blue and purple. Cushions lined the room as well as quite a few blankets. A coffee table pressed up against the wall held an assortment of pens and pads of paper all decorated with the same slanted handwriting. There were also quite a few cups of cold tea across the room which made Virgil smile.

“Well?” Logan asked a little nervously. “It’s beautiful” Virgil beamed. Logan looked very pleased with himself and led the man to a well-worn spot directly beneath the window.

Virgil followed dutifully sitting just close enough to Logan for it to be flirty without invading personal space. He was adamant about respecting boundaries and at this point, Logan hadn’t set quite enough for him to initiate anything, though he wanted to.

Logan shifted towards him (yeeessss) opening his book, it was on psychology, one of Logan’s many interests. Virgil opened his book, and let himself relax a little.

Virgil’s watch ticked past 12, Logan was fully seated on Virgil’s lap and was reading excerpts from his book out loud. Virgil was smiling like a fool, absentmindedly branding the longer parts of Logan’s unruly chestnut hair.

“While dreams are the compilation of memories and fantasy when studied mean- meaning can be derived from them *yawn* furthermore” Logan mumbled sleepily.

Virgil laughed lightly, “Lo?” Logan hummed, letting the book fall onto his lap. “You need to go home?” Logan shook his head, “not really I- *yawn* no one’s expecting me” he said grinning up at Virgil who smiled right back down, “no one’s expecting me either” Logan hummed happily and leaned back into Virgil’s chest.

The added weight surprised Virgil. He held Logan tightly as he lost his balance. They slid down the wall and landed with an oof onto Virgil’s back. The two tired men dissolved into giggles.

Logan flipped onto his stomach and tucked his head into Virgil’s chest. “Night verge” Virgil smiled, “good night” he pressed a kiss into Logan’s hair and closed his eyes.

*Bonus

“hem-hem” Logan blearily opened his eyes and was met with an angry Patton Heart. “did you have sex in my library!!!!”

31 notes · View notes

drxwsyni · 4 years

Text

Petrified (pt. 8)

Yandere Erasermic x f!Reader

SERIES MASTERLIST

a/n: OOOOH THINGS ARE STARTING TO GET INTERESTING. Now that we’ve set this up, expect each chapter to be VERY yandere. I know it’s been pretty chill for like half of the series, but not anymore! I’m really excited to write the later chapters, cause I think the twists are gonna be pretty good lol. Anyways, thanks for reading and enjoy the new part!

A huge thanks to @yanderart for beta reading this part <3. Also, ty to @reinawritesbnha, @yanderart (again lol), @shorkbrian and @sawamooora for helping me brainstorm. I suck at writing smut big time and you guys rlly helped me flesh everything out. Love y’all <3

*Sidenote*: Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the taglist!

5.6k words

Warnings: Dubcon, threesome, dumbification, recreational use of drugs and alcohol, coercion, gaslighting, implied stalking, ambiguous implied themes

“I think this calls for some drinks, whaddya say princess?”

Hizashi was already rising from his spot on the couch before you could answer. Making his way into the kitchen, he quickly disappeared from your line of sight to fix up whatever concoction of alcohol he sought fit.

Much to your appreciation, neither of the two heroes had pressured you just yet into discussing your agreement from a mere few days ago. Thursday morning had passed by in a blur, and to nobody’s surprise, you continued with business as usual.

And what seemed to be a recurring factor in your life as of late―luck was never quite on your side.

You made it out of the work week by the skin of your teeth. Between a surplus of particularly unruly customers, and the burden of your own conscience, catching a break was an unobtainable reprieve. Anyone in their right mind would’ve looked at you and told you to stay home. To cancel your dinner date with Shouta and Hizashi, and promptly treat yourself to some much needed slumber. But you were everything but in your right mind as of late.

Not a moment went by where you didn’t question yourself. Part of you alarmed in the need for rest, the other wanting to keep going. Unsure of whether you were just overreacting, or if the voice in the back of your head telling you to run and never look back from the two actually had some sense to it.

You went with the former. Which was why you were back in their quaint little home, nestled amongst the bustling city. And in the observant nature you’d been subjected to time and time again, they both immediately picked up on the fact that you were worse for wear. After a dinner that was as appetizing as any other meal they’d made for you, the three of you holed up in the living room.

It turns out they had a pretty long week too. With hero work, teaching, and―what they just had to bring up―making sure you were doing alright, they were thoroughly beat. Almost as much as you.

Hizashi returned, towing three drinks in his hands. What looked like two beers, one for him and one for Shouta―and a colourful, bright looking mixture of god knows what for yourself.

The glass was cold in your hands, a chill offsetting the warmth brought on by both the fireplace and the heat in your cheeks, quickly rising after Hizashi handed off your drink to you with a wink.

The blond was about to retake his seat, until he paused, setting his beer on the coffee table. “Hold on―I actually brought a lil’ somethin’ extra.” The chipper man dug into the front pocket of his jeans, pulling out a small ziplock baggie. The package was a gunmetal grey, with some indiscernible label on the front. Letters too small, and you too far away to see what they read.

“Now, somethin’ tells me you’re probably a newbie to this kinda stuff, but don’t worry ‘bout it!” Hizashi strided closer to you as he spoke, opening up the package with nimble fingers.

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, ‘Zashi.” Shouta sounded unamused, but the small smirk forming on his face told a different story.

“Nah, this’ll be good for her! Take the edge off and all that shit, yeah?”

You looked at the baggie curiously, eyebrows knitted as he fished around inside of it. “...What is it, exactly?”

The blond revealed a small gummy between his fingers, holding it out to you. “Edibles. Go on.”

He gestured for you to take the candy from him, and not really knowing what else to do with his insistence, you did. Hizashi retrieved another from the bag, popping it into his mouth. He held the grey package out to Shouta, but he shook his head, a dismissive sigh escaping his lips.

Hesitantly, you stared at the gummy in your hand. “I, uh...I’m not really sure about this. It’s just that―”

“You’ll be fine.” This time it was Shouta to push you, despite having just been more unfavouring of the topic.

You regarded the man worriedly. However, much unlike before, something new had overtaken his expression. Anticipation, expectancy―it was hard to place. But it told you one thing.

Something had changed his mind, and whatever it was, it was enticing enough for him to disregard the possibility of you reacting badly to the edible, and your concerns over the substance in general.

Clearly, he caught on to your apprehension. And, unfortunately for you, his demands were always so much harder to defy than his partner’s. Not that you did much of defying either these days. Still, as of now it was easier to comply than face the consequences of their incessant convincing.

“Think of it as making up for lying to us. You get to relax a little, and we’ll put you back in our good books.”

“Not that you ever left! But ya did hurt us with that, so it’s the least you could do. Right, sweetheart?” Hizashi grabbed his beer from the coffee table, before taking a seat next to you on the couch. Lazily, he threw an arm across the back of it, you tensing slightly at how it was close enough to be resting on your shoulders.

You knew it wasn’t the best idea. But maybe, just maybe, this small piece of laced candy would be what got you through the night. You should still be able to keep your wits about you, but if this meant getting them off your case? Then so be it. Frankly, being trapped in your mind of stressed thoughts was something you sought to escape all the time. This was a decent opportunity to do just that.

Copying Hizashi, perhaps just a little less enthusiastically, you indulged them in seeing you down the gummy. It left a strange aftertaste, so you washed it down with the brightly coloured drink you’d been neglecting this whole time.

Much to your dismay, that didn’t taste any better.

You resolved to leave the drink be, not wanting to deal with the issues that might come out of mixing the two inhibitors. The two of them didn’t really care, as soon enough you all fell back into line, talking about whatever first came to mind.

Times like these honestly made you resentful. How you wished that the two heroes weren’t so suffocatingly bothered about your wellbeing. If they weren’t, maybe you could have nights like these more often. They took up so much time policing your actions―checking up on you, hammering in their agenda, hovering. It was time that could be spent just being your friend.

A normal, no obligations relationship was what you wanted with them. Not the reality of you being their little pet project. Trying to change your long standing ways for the ‘better.’ Genuinely, you enjoyed these moments of reprieve. Where for even just a short while, you could all just look past the reasons as to why you were in their home. Just mindless conversation. Entertaining, engaging―normal.

It wasn’t your fault that they had to go ahead and ruin it.

...

Or maybe it was. You could’ve said no. Tonight, or when they first roped you into their lives.

It didn’t really matter now.

_____

The concept of time was...difficult to grasp.

You didn’t know when Shouta had taken up residence right next to you, so close the two of you were touching. Whatever they were saying, you liked it. You were giggling, almost spilling your mostly untouched drink. The condensation on the glass was dripping down your hand, a chill that you didn’t even notice. After a particularly amusing jab at who knows what, you nearly let the contents of the liquid slush out over the rim.

Hizashi laughed at your sedated carelessness, “Woah there, songbird. Lemme take that from you before ya stain the couch, yeah?”

“Clumsy little thing, isn’t she?” The deep baritone of Shouta’s voice next to you sends automatic shivers up and down your spine, muscles tightening for a split second.

By now, you had no clue how much either of them had to drink. Or if they even drank at all. Combing your hazy memory, you couldn’t quite place a moment where you caught them doing anything other than chatting away. Shouta’s beer was still on the side table next to where he was sitting. As for Hizashi’s, well―it was too much effort to crane your neck to see where it lay.

The blond faced you again, “She’s such a cutie like this―all buzzed out. You feelin good there?”

A crooked, goofy looking smile was spread across your lips. “Mhmm…” The drifting response matched your expression, light and pleased.

“What are we gonna do with her?” Shouta, speaking through his actions, and very uncharacteristically, wrapped sturdy arms around your waist. Blissfully dazed, you only let out light and bashful laughs as the man pulled you into his lap. Your legs hung off the side of his toned thighs, while he kept an arm around your waist, the other squeezing your plush hip.

Inhibitions having left you about five minutes ago, you failed to see the predatory glint in Hizashi’s eyes. He moved closer to the both of you, “Oh, I can think of plenty of things we can do…” His hand ran up the length of your thigh―exposed, given how you chose to wear a dress this Saturday.

Lazily, your gaze trailed his movements. Slow, teasingly, letting you feel with anticipation as it crept higher, and higher.

“Eyes on me, kitten.”

Another hand―Shouta’s―lightly gripped your chin. Turning your head, or more like him turning your head, your focus met his darkened one. “...Such little tease, you are.”

Something distant, uncompleted, clicked in the back of your mind. You tried grasping at it, straining to get a hold on whatever that thought was trying to tell you. “I...what do you m―”

So much for that thought.

Shouta’s lips collided with yours, ending any coherent understanding that was developing in that swift movement. His hand, once cupping your face, switched to firmly cradle the back of your head.

Whatever remained of your common sense had you weakly attempting to pull away. But it was no use, when Shouta held you in place, the force of your feeble resistance not bothering him in the slightest. If anything, he found it cute.

How hard you tried to fight them, even now.

His lips moved against yours, the day old scruff tickling your skin. That small sensation pierced your fogged thoughts, intaking a sharp breath of air through your nose. While you focused on that, you barely noticed the blond’s wandering hands.

At least, not until they found their destination. You let out a drawn out moan as Hizashi pressed two fingers against your clothed mound. Your legs would’ve shut, but he had already settled in between them, kneeling over you with a satisfied look.

An amused grin spread across his face as you unconsciously ground yourself into his fingers while he rubbed you through the soft material of your thin panties. “Ohhh, yeah. She’s feeling good all right.”

You should’ve stayed home.

Shouta detached himself from your lips, and Hizashi was quick to take his place. With his free hand, he’d done like his partner and turned you to face him.

While he wasn’t as graceful, you didn’t really have a mind to care. Not when it was overwhelmed with the suffocating closeness of the two men.

You should’ve left once they offered you a drink, or the edible.

The erasure hero peppered small kisses down your neck, stopping only to speak. “Bet we could make her feel even better…” The seductive tone of his voice, spoken low into your ear shot straight to your core, feeling butterflies at his words.

You shouldn't have let your guard down.

Gasping in response, Shouta nipped at the sensitive skin of your neck, sucking and working to leave a mark in his wake. His partner took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, tongue exploring every inch of your mouth. Even in your disoriented state, the sensation of a piercing was a stark contrast in comparison to everything else Hizashi was making you feel.

Too fixated on that, you once again failed to keep track of what was going on around you. It was more like you simply felt it, absorbed the way it was making your body react, without much of a care for the circumstances.

A common occurrence, nowadays.

And it didn’t matter what you should’ve done anymore. It wasn’t going to stop the inevitable.

Shouta’s calloused hands squeezed your hips, kneading them and relishing in your softness. Always the direct one, he grasped the hem of your dress. The hero smiled against your neck, pleased with how compliant Hizashi’s little treat had made you.

If only you could be like this all the time.

As his partner’s fingers continued their ministrations, not being nearly enough to help you seek release, Shouta lifted up your dress.

Catching on soon enough, Hizashi parted from you, a string of saliva connecting your lips.

“Let’s get you outta this, huh pretty girl?”

The dots didn’t connect. You didn’t know why things felt just the slightest bit off, only that the familiar and nagging hint of doubt was currently fighting tooth and nail to keep its place at the back of your mind.

You didn’t respond. But they didn’t really care.

Hizashi held your arms up as Shouta peeled your dress off. The flimsy article was quickly discarded on the floor, landing somewhere out of sight. Not really comprehending whether you regretted the actions that led you here now, you let yourself get caught up in their movements, the air of room hitting your exposed breasts.

The blond noted with a low whistle at the fact that you’d neglected to wear a bra, too transfixed at the moment to deduce why.

You knew why, distantly―everything felt distant right now.

While Shouta resumed littering your neck with open mouthed kisses, his partner got to work on making a mess of your front. You couldn’t tell which hands belonged to whom, only that they were on your body. Groping, kneading, taking in how much more delicate you were compared to them.

A fragile little thing.

...How did they hold out this long?

A small yelp escaped you as one of them pinched your hardening nipple, making you squirm fruitlessly in their grasp.

Shouta chuckled at your reaction, “That was a cute noise, kitten. Why don’t you make some more for us?”

The voice hero was slowly leaving marks down your chest, along the curves of your breasts. “Yeah, you can do that for us, right?”

Punctuating his words, his mouth enveloped your pebbled nipple, swirling his piercing tongue around it. His other hand was still steadily rubbing circles into your clothed pussy. You mewled at the sensation, mind still trying to make right from wrong.

“I...I don’t…don’t think this....”

Small tears of frustration threatened to well. You wanted so bad to know where this incessant feeling was coming from. Why it was lingering.

Shouta was quick to shut those worried thoughts down though. “Shhh...just let us take care of you.”

Hizashi’s voice sounded strained―needy. “Fuck, Shou’. I can’t hold back any longer…”

His partner, being the only person in the room with a clear mind, paused before replying. Ever the hard-headed one, now technically shouldn’t be any different. But, with the way you were moving on his lap, unconsciously grinding against him...maybe his head wasn’t as clear as he thought.

...

“I’m not stopping you.”

The look of pure relief at the erasure hero’s words was instant. Because really, the only reason he hadn’t fucked you senseless yet was because Shouta was doing everything in his power to control him. They needed to wait until you were ready, even if it meant giving you something to make you a bit more open to the idea.

Deft fingers looped under the hem of your panties, Hizashi’s eyes glistening at the thin string of arousal on the fabric as he pulled them away from your core. He quickly dragged them down your legs and discarding them in a similar fashion as your dress.

Maneuvering you so that your back was to Shouta’s chest, the erasure hero spread your legs, holding them apart by draping them off either sides of his own. The blond dropped to his knees on the floor in front of you both, taking in the way your folds glistened with the flickering light of the fireplace.

But before he could make a move, Shouta spoke up.

“Wait, maybe we should take this to the bedr―”

“Fuck that.”

Without uttering another word on the subject, Hizashi buried his face in between your legs. Unable to restrain yourself, you cried out as his tongue slid up your heat, the piercing deliciously adding pressure to your clit.

Shouta laughed a bit at your reaction, letting you mindlessly throw your head back on his shoulder. His hands came to grope your breasts, sighing in satisfaction at their soft give against his fingers. “You’ve been holding out on us, kitten. You’re lucky we’re going easy on you right now.”

His counterpart hummed in agreement, sending pleasurable waves of warmth throughout you. His tongue continued circling your clit, noting all the things that made you squirm and whine in response, using them to work you over even more.

Unable to recognize the true meaning to his words, you simply let your body succumb to their ministrations. Your mouth hung open, small noises leaving you in your blissed out state, body completely bare while they were still fully clothed.

You were under a lethal combination of sedating exhaustion from the week, coupled with the ingredients in the gummy Hizashi was ever so quick to offer. It left you pliant, melting into their hold.

You felt good. Really good.

Hizashi’s right hand drifted up, fingers coating themselves in your dripping essence. You writhed as they dipped into your folds, toying with your puffy clit. He replaced them with his tongue once again, letting them tease at your entrance.

The lust filled side of you bucked your hips against him, urging the voice hero to fill you up with his slender fingers.

“Someone’s a little needy.” You ignored the condescending tone coating Shouta’s words, distracted with the way the blond’s fingers refused your insistence.

“I...please…” You didn’t really know what it was you were begging for. Just that you needed him to do something, anything. If it meant he’d stop teasing you.

“I got ya, pretty girl. Just relax now.” Putting you out of your misery, a long and nimble finger pushed past your entrance. The digit skilfully curled inside of you, repeating the action with each thrust.

Desperate for something to hold on to, you gripped the arm that Shouta had wrapped around your waist, keeping you pinned firmly against him. A precaution, of course. They weren’t going to have you backing out of this now. Not after you’d let yourself go so much, and they finally had the chance to prove how good they could be to you.

The stretch of Hizashi adding a second finger felt incredible, but even more so was when they hit that sensitive bundle of nerves with pinpointed accuracy. You jolted from the sensation, toes curling as he targeted the spot while simultaneously keeping his mouth busy in ways that sent your mind reeling.

He pulled away for a moment, enjoying the sight above him as you squirmed in Shouta’s hold. “That your sweet spot, baby?” Putting emphasis on his words, he began delivering even harder thrusts, going back to repeatedly flick at your clit with his tongue.

“You take his fingers so well, don’t you kitten?”

You could feel the coil beginning to tighten, a sedating warmth spreading across your body. If you were facing Shouta, you would be able to see the devious smirk stretched across his lips.

The man was growing impatient―for once in his life when it came to you. But, could you really blame him? Here you were, splayed out across his lap and oh so vulnerable. So cute, so fucked out of your mind.

It was time to move things along, if only so he could get a taste.

His free hand weaved itself into the long and loose blond locks cascading down Hizashi’s shoulders. The man in question gave an inquisitive look, before quickly being cut off. Shouta yanked the man forward by his hair, causing him to press even harder into your sensitive cunt. He groaned as the pain shot through his scalp, the vibrations of his voice, semi-quirk activated, shooting through your core.

That was enough for you. The buildup of heat, how your body felt like it was melting under their touch―in an instant it was amplified tenfold. Your eyebrows furrowed, muscles tensing as you came around Hizashi’s fingers, and on his tongue―both of which were still relentlessly stimulating you through your high. Even when you finally calmed down, the blond continued to greedily lap at your juices, causing you to shake and whine as you were still far too sensitive.

Shouta, a hand still gripping his partner's hair, pulled Hizashi away from you since he realized that clearly he would just keep going if he didn’t intervene.

Your whole being feeling more ragdoll like now, if that was even possible, gave way easily to their hurried repositioning. Having nearly passed out from that alone, the scene unfolding around you went right over your head. Clothes being torn off, belts hastily undone, two very painfully hard men trapping you in between them.

At some point, one of them had put you on your hands and knees on the couch. Well, it was more like you had your ass raised in the air, while you tiredly slumped against the soft cushions. However, the feeling of something running up and down your folds managed to stave off that threatening exhaustion.

“Don’t go passing out on us just yet, kitten.” The gravelly voice came from behind you, letting you know that it was Shouta who was gripping your hip with one hand, the other guiding his cock to your sopping entrance.

Which meant, the pretty and pierced cock in front of you must belong to Hizashi.

“Open up for me, songbird.”

Through semi-wet lashes, you peered up at the voice hero who was towering over you. The hand that wasn’t pumping his length gripped your jaw. And, with a little pressure, he forced your mouth open.

You just needed a little encouragement, is all.

He let out a strangled moan as he pushed his way past your wetted lips, nearly cumming right then and there at how warm you felt around him.

Shouta wasn’t doing much better in the area of self restraint, using his partner’s distraction to sheath himself inside your pussy. His want for control wore thin as your walls fluttered around him, deliciously sucking him in inch by inch.

Both of the men were on cloud nine, finally getting a taste of how you really felt. Those moments of consoling weren’t always innocent, touches yearning to go further. And now that they’d gone to those lengths, now that they were going through those long desired motions, the two realized you were so much better than they could’ve ever imagined.

You moaned around Hizashi’s cock as his partner bottomed out inside of you. His length filled you up in ways neither yours or the blond’s fingers could. Even when he pulled out and thrusted back into your heat, he’d already managed to hit that perfect angle.

Both going at their own pace, your body rocked back and forth as the men took advantage of your delirious state. You couldn’t exactly call it abusing your holes―they weren’t being that rough. But Shouta’s cock was stretching your walls just a bit more than you were prepared for. And Hizashi was slowly forgetting with each passing second that he couldn’t just force his whole length down your throat.

Actually, maybe they were overestimating your limits.

Could you blame them, though? Seeing you day after day, doing their best to not scare you away as they held back the near uncontrollable urge to just take what they wanted. Having to watch you let yourself get run down, when they could’ve been taking care of you.

Why did you have to put up such a fight?

Shouta didn’t think he'd agree with Hizashi when he suggested offering you the edible. Oh, how glad he was for letting him do so now. Because he had to admit, seeing you bent over, deepthroating the blond while he got a nice view of you from behind―it was worth the wait, and the hint of shame that came from inducing you to accept them in such a way.

His tired eyes were lost on the way you took the both of them, shamelessly moaning against Hizashi, hips unconsciously rocking back against him to garner some more stimulation. It was only when the voice hero pulled you off of his pierced cock, the sounds of you gasping for breath meeting his ears, did Shouta break out of that trance.

“Hey...ya think I’d fit in there too?”

The blond was referring to your already decently stuffed cunt, dripping with arousal that was running down your thighs.

Shouta’s lips quirked into a slight smirk.

“...We can make it fit.”

You didn’t quite know what to think. Your mind felt...strange. Weighed down―by exhaustion, some indiscernible veil, but also the need to feel more.

The two helped you sit up, Shouta’s length still fully inside of you. Hizashi eagerly positioned himself in front of you, hands wandering across your body, searching for purchase to ground him.

You did the same to him, mindlessly throwing your arms around his neck, nails digging into his back as the tip of his cock teasingly nudged your clit.

Hizashi laughed a little at your fucked out face, drool seeping from your mouth and running down your chin. His thumb wiped away some stray falling tears, before giving your cheeks a few gentle pats. He found your blissed expression, albeit a lot more intense than he’d seen before, a familiar and amusing thing. “I’ll never get sick of seein’ ya like this, songbird.”

The meaning to his words went directly over your head. Must not have been that important, right?

Unable to really register what was going on, just that suddenly, you felt much more full than you had been a second ago, your brows scrunched in...discomfort?

It didn’t really feel bad, it was just a lot to handle.

Hizashi’s head fell onto your shoulder as he slowly let you sink down on his cock. He let out a hiss, feeling your walls clamp down around him, impossibly and deliciously tight. The small noises that escaped your lips as his piercings dragged against your sensitive spot nearly made them both abandon caution that second.

But they would never hurt you, not unless it was necessary. They wanted to take care of you―even if you were too out of it to realize.

The seconds ticking by as you adjusted to them felt like hours in their book. Finally, after what could’ve been an eternity, Hizashi bottomed out inside of you. The blond relished in the way your nails threatened to break the skin of his shoulders and back as they began thrusting in and out of you, your cunt welcoming them in.

No coherent words could form in your mind, reduced to nothing more than a dumbed down puddle of pleasure. You couldn’t care less about the lewd wet and slapping noises, or how you were quite literally a ragdoll in their arms. Not when the only constant on your mind was how you felt good. Better than you had in a long time. It wasn’t a feeling of safeness, but still, it wasn’t something you wanted to get away from. For now, at least.

Both of the heroes could tell how well your body was reacting to them―by the way your head lolled back against Shouta’s broad frame, or how whimpers and cries of ecstasy spilled from your parted lips.

“...Is our kitten enjoying herself?”

You didn’t respond. Not with words, at least.

Hizashi responded properly for you. “Look at her pretty little face, ‘course she is. Y’know...I could get used to this―what about you, Shou’?”

Arms tangled amongst each other, the two held you upright as they rutted against you. Much like yourself, the pleasure they felt was greatly dulcifying their inhibitions.

You probably wouldn’t remember anything they had to say, though.

The erasure hero grinned at that thought―having you like this for them all the time. Something to look forward to after a long day. The sight of you, safe in their home, waiting for their return. Ready for them to spoil you in every which way possible. Just like you deserved.

“...You saying we should speed things up?”

Now that idea, it gave Hizashi purpose. He was aching to swoop you up―had been for a long time. His hips pistoned in and out of you faster, harder than before.

The blond grasped your jaw in one hand, forcing you to look at him. “Bet you would like that, pretty girl.” With a particularly sharp thrust of his hips, you cried out as he thoughtlessly spoke to you. “Bet you want us doting on ya all day...fucking you ‘till ya can’t walk―that’s what you want, right?”

Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, the task of forming a response, one that held your truth, being absolutely impossible. You didn’t know what they wanted, and all you craved was to give them a reply to keep them doing whatever it was they were.

“...I..y-yes?”

Wrong answer.

The both of them moved with a new sense of vigour, leaving you clawing at anything you could get your hands on in a feeble attempt to steady yourself.

“Hear that, Shou’? Our baby’s askin’ for us to take care of her.”

The erasure hero gripped your hips in an iron like hold, sure to leave tender bruises the next day. “Can’t say no to that, now can we?”

The warmth pooling in your belly was growing more intense with each passing second, leaving you to writhe in their grasp, not really knowing how to handle yourself. Every little thing they said, whether to you, or just about you didn’t exactly register. As their speed picked up, the heroes nearing their release just as fast as you, Shouta weaved a hand in between yours and the blond’s body.

You jolted at the feeling of two of his fingers pressing tight circles into your puffy clit, still being jostled as their movements quickened. The two men groaned as your walls clamped down around them, the sounds that met your ears going straight to your core.

“You gonna cum for us, baby?”

Hizashi’s hand, still on your jaw, moved to the back of your head. He held it so that you didn’t merely lay limp against Shouta’s shoulder, propped in his grasp so that he could see your dazed and lust filled expression. You could only nod in response, his question somehow permeating through the thick fog settled over your rational thoughts.

Picking up on the small acknowledgement to Hizashi’s words, Shouta’s ministrations focused on bringing you to release. His fingers never ceased in aimedly toying with your clit, spurred on by the way you reacted so well to them.

The white hot pressure building inside of you was reaching its crescendo. Where one of them left your heat, the other was there to fill you right back up, constantly crashing against your bundle of nerves. That familiar and intense sensation washed over your body as you reached your second peak of the night, convulsing in their arms, eyes rolling into the back of your head.

Your walls fluttering around their lengths, somehow making it even tighter, a reaction deliciously consuming to the two. Truly better than their imaginations could’ve conceived, the feeling of you coming undone caused them to tumble over the edge of their release as well.

Shouta’s head dipped, face buried in the junction between your neck and collarbones. He grunted into the skin covered in a sheen of sweat, painting your walls white while you continued to tremble in their embrace. Hizashi’s grip on the back of your head tightened, pulling on your hair and making you wince as a sharp pain shot across your scalp. Ropes of cum coated your insides, mixing with the already existing seed, now spilling down your thighs and dripping onto the couch.

All three of you were heaving with acute exhaustion, you maybe slightly more. Coming down from your high, the adrenaline that had just spiked was leaving your body, taking nearly all of your energy with it.

You slumped against their bodies, falling against Shouta while Hizashi still cradled the back of your head. It felt as if lead was weighing down your whole being, threatening to pull you into a deep slumber. And, seeing as you couldn’t find the reason to fight it given your mentally reduced state, you let it.

Your eyelids fluttered, shutting with relief as fatigue enveloped you, drowning you in its sedation.

But someone’s voice, you couldn’t place who’s, ripped you from the respite of sleep. The message igniting that strange, unidentifiable nagging of worry. Yet, it faded as soon as it came, overshadowed by the insatiable movements returning in the two men.

“...We’re not done with you yet.”

(End of part 8)

_____

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blue-bird-kny · 4 years

Text

Steamy Seduction

I’m back!! I finally finished that fic I mentioned forever ago lol. Believe it or not but since school’s started I’ll be able to produce more work. Without further ado here is some long overdue love for Mitsuri! As always, enjoy~Amanda

Side note: the fact that I'm almost to 1k followers is mind boggling so thank you all!!

Warning: NSFW, mild dom/sub themes, eating out, semi-public, Fem!reader, language

(1.7k+ words)

“Hmmmm” you sighed in relief, submerged up to just below your nose in the boiling water of the hot spring. It had taken some major planning, but you managed to gather most of your Hashira friends (Sanemi and Obanai both thought this was a waste of time) to take a much needed vacation at a local hot springs in the mountains. “Sometimes you could be such a child” Shinobu snickered from the edge of the water; she and Mitsuri sat wrapped in white towels, the water morphing its shape to hug their form- you almost purred at the sight of Mitsuri’s breast, just barely covered by the cloth.

floated over to the girls, tightening your bun in the process. Mitsuri couldn’t help but giggle as she watched the way her friend glared, your fingers finding Mitsuri’s. Shinobu stretched, pulling herself out of the water, “I don't want to end up like a prune so I’m going to bed, you two love birds stay out of trouble” she winked, grabbing her robe and disappearing.

As if on instinct, you moved to Mitsuri’s lap, your legs trapping her against her seat. “You look so pretty with your hair down” you cooed playing with the loose strands. She looked away shyly, her arms softly hugging your waist. “You always say I’m pretty, so how will I know when I look bad?” she probed. “Impossible. You’ve never looked anything but beautiful”. You moved on from her hair, your fingertips brushing against the skin of her neck up to her cheeks, holding the rosy flesh in your hands, your thumbs rubbed soothingly along her features.

Mitsuri hummed in content as your lips traveled along her skin, leaving open mouthed kisses along her jawline, down her throat, until finally reaching her lips. You pressed your chest against hers, groaning into the kiss at the feel of Mitsuri’s hard nipples against yours. Your tongue slid along her bottom lip, silently asking for permission, nibbling gentle against the swollen skin. Her grip on your waist steadily tightened as her legs figgetted between yours. “We can get into a little trouble, no?” you flirted, toying with the edge of the towel. Mitsuri fervently shook her head, already trapped under the spell of your touch.

You shifted, bringing your knee between her thighs, pressing against her naked mound. “Agh!” you swallowed her moan with your mouth, moving your knee back a bit. “ Sorry baby, but you’ll have to be quieter than that” You held her chin, staring into her wide eyes, “Just over that wall are all the guys, you wouldn’t want them to hear you” you inched your knee closer again, just brushing against her folds. The sound of Uzui’s booming laughter emphazed your point. “Or maybe you want them to hear how easily you come undone at my touch. But you know baby, I don’t share, I want all your delicious noises for myself so if you can’t keep quiet I’ll just have to stop” you pulled away slightly, “No! I’ll be good I promise” Mitsuri pleaded, pulling you against her. “That's what I like to hear baby, you're always so good for me” you dawdled, your knee gently grinding circles against her cunt. You pulled her towel open, riding her of the pesky cloth and leaving her on full display.

You thumbed at her nipples, watching the way Mitsuri shuddered at your touch before taking one in your mouth, sucking. Mitsuri covered her mouth quickly, broken moans muffled as they slipped through the cracks. If she was having a hard time piping down now, you couldn’t wait to watch her struggle during the main event. You switched between sucking and nipping while your leg still worked under the water, never putting more pressure than needed. Your whole body worked in a steady pattern, never easing the pleasure you were giving- if you weren’t careful Mitsuri would come sooner than you wanted.

You pulled off her breast with a wet pop, marveling at the hot mess beneath, pressing harder against her clit. Your face landed in the valley between her breast, licking a trail up over the juncture of her neck, across faded marks from previous nights. Mitsuri’s eyes were screwed shut, she was biting her fingers so tightly in an effort to suppress her mewls that you were afraid it’d draw blood. In one swift motion, you pulled away completely, ceasing all movement. Mitsuri whined at the loss of your touch, her bulging eyes pleading. “Don’t worry baby,” you removed her hand kissing the palm lovingly, “you were so good for me, of course I’d let you cum” you pushed her wild strands back behind her ears, peppering her skin with kisses. “Could you sit up on the ledge for me please? I promise you’ll feel good” you urged, placing the towel on the cold floor for her to sit on.

She nodded hazily, lifting herself out of the water and onto the towel. You growled at the sight of the water beads falling down her naked skin, her flushed cheeks filled you body with warmth- oh how you couldn’t wait to taste her. You gripped her legs, pulling them apart slowly, too slowly for Mitsuri’s liking. Your eyes bore into hers through wet lashes, biting at the supple flesh of her thick thighs. “Y/n please” she cried, her arms unsteadily holding herself off the ground. “Be patient baby girl, you know I just love this part” you mumbled against her inner thigh, the skin littered with bruises. You could smell her juices, close enough that your breath caused shivers to pass through her spine. Your index finger trailed her sopping slit, gathering her slick on your finger. “See? Beautiful.” you showed off her mess like it was some glistening prize, before bringing your finger past your lips.

Mitsuri couldn’t take much more of this teasing, she was desperate for anything. For you though, she would sit through hours of torturous teasing and that thought alone brought you face to face with her dripping pussy. “Baby you should lay down, your arms will get tired” you spoke caringly, your nose grazing her navel. She did as she was told, yelping at the sudden feel of your tongue prodding her hole. You pushed her lips apart, your tongue moving as far inside as possible, your nose bumping against her sensitive bud. Her delicate fingers held your hair, the others returning to her own mouth.You licked and stretched, drinking up as much of her as you could. “You’re delicious baby” your sultry voice rang, the muffled vibrations causing Mitsuri to clench around nothing.

You moved south, stuffing two digits into her soaked cavern; she winced in pain slightly. “It’ll only hurt for a minute baby” you consoled, your thumb rolled against her nub in hopes of distracting her from the dulling pain. You circled your lips around the quivering bud, tugging it gently. Mitsuri sobbed quietly, your fingers scissoring inside of her, just brushing that special spot she yearned for you to touch. You were relentless; edging her closer to her release with each swirl and thrust.

You couldn’t help but giggle at the girl writhing on the stone floor in front of you.. Her face was flushed and her brows knitted tightly in ecstasy, sweat mingled with the drying water that cascaded down her milky skin. Her knotted tresses sprawled out on the floor, while her own manicured tips gripped your roots yanking from time to time- Mitsuri’s fucked out image was stunning.

Swiftly, you hoist her legs over your shoulders, the new angle giving you easy access to her g-spot, ready to abuse. Mitsuri’s muscles constricted in a feeble attempt to keep herself from suffocating you- if you were going to die, there would be no better way then to be suffocated by your girlfriend. . “Go wild baby” your sinful smirk pushed her over her limit. Her moans sprunge free and breathy from her puffy parted lips, her eyes locked on your bobbing head as she held you in place with a firm grasp, feet digging into your shoulder blades. She came hard, a string of cries and stuttering “Y-Y/n”. You drank every drop of her salty-sweet slick, Mitsuri ground her hips against your face, riding out her climax.

You savored the lingering taste on your tongue, cleaning the glistening residue off your chin with the back of your hand only to wipe it away with your tongue. A shiver passed through your spin as the chill air tickled your damp body, clambering out of the heated water at last, slithering up Mitsuri’s spent body slouched against the stone. “You were so good for me baby” you smiled softly, petting her unruly hair. “It's the least I could do, you always treat me right my Love” she mumbled wearing an exhausted expression. You relished in the feel of your slippery, bare bodies pressed flush against each other for only a moment before moving to stand. “Wait.” Mitsuri moved to clutch your hand, “what about you?” she huffed wistful, round eyes. “Don’t worry about me princess, you’re body’s spent” you reached for a dry towel, engulfing Mitsuri’s shivering form in its warmth. “Besides, there’s always tomorrow” you baited with a seductive glare.

You woke up alone, Mitsuri’s flowery scent already fading from your shared space. You groaned, rubbing your sore knees, the rocks from last night really did a number on the tender skin. “Where is she?” you thought, scrambling out of the mess of bed sheet.

“Morning” you grumbled to the gaggle of Hashira’s, all baring a creepy knowing smile. You watched confused when Shinobu spoke up, “I heard you had a pleasant time in the springs last night” her eyes hiding something sinister. “Yes! We could hear all your gasping laughter from our side of the wall!” Rengoku added, sporting his own grin as Uzui’s wolfish laughter shook the room. “I’m going to find Mitsuri” you shouted exiting, “Oh she went to go shower, she said she was dirty” your face flushed- They fucking knew.

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#kny #kny x reader #kanjori mitsuri #mitsuri x reader #kny smut #mitsuri x fem! reader #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #mitsuri kanroji #mitsuri x fem!reader smut #mitsuri smut #mitsuri x reader smut

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