#and what's stopping these characters from facing the truth and what it looks like for every character to finally do just that

[yurinaa-world]

May i request love and deepspace boys with clingy!reader? Shes shy too!! In public, she'll hold onto his hand or finger and stays quiet but at home she becomes a yapper machine and also likes to plop onto his lap as she talks. Sometimes likes mindlessly squeezing and playing with his meaty bicep too :3

"𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓀 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝒶 𝓁𝑜𝓉"

💫𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, & Sylus x Gender-Neutral reader

💫𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: with a reader who's clingy at home and mindlessly touches him

💫𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff, & Spelling Mistakes

💫𝒩𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈: I got sickkk 😫 this isn't my usual quality...I'm sorry (it had to be when it's my first post with the 4 lnds guys...Give me another chance!)

💫𝑅𝒶𝒻𝒶𝓎𝑒𝓁 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒜𝒷𝓎𝓈𝓈𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓀𝑒𝓇"

He eats it up, watching you act shy in public, grabbing the piece of his shirt or finger whenever you're in public. The second you feel like you're in a comfortable space he watches you unwind, holding onto him so tightly that he’ll just tease you. 

Your pretty self not wanting to let go of him, not even for a glass of water, straddling his lap, and arms wrapped around his neck, hiding in his neck. You're just begging him to tease you so badly. Yet his jaw just drops whenever you unconsciously touch him more. 

While you’re talking about your day, your hands unconsciously go to his chest. aren’t you so handsy? He stops in the middle of your sentence, teasing you so much even bringing up the other times you act shameless with him. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

After such a long day, you can’t help but unload everything you had been feeling the entire day, just going on and on while he puts on his irrelevant commentary—letting gasps and hums, you play with the buttons on his shirt before taking your hands away from his buttons, gently caress his chest while you talk about the climax of your entire day.

“You should have seen her, she was completely soaked and the owner didn’t even say anything even though it was his fault that it happened in the first place!” you chirped—your eyes shining so bright there might be little stars in them—leaning into his face to emphasize your point, he just gasps as if he were there experiencing it. “Oh wow…” he smiles back at you—it looked more like a sly lazy grin plastered on his lips.

“Yeah! And then…”

There you go again switching through topics so fast that he might just start taking notes to understand what you’re talking about. But feel his grin get wider, while your hands shamelessly touch his chest like a creep on the streets.

“If you’re going to shamelessly touch me, at least own up instead of pretending to tell a story.” He grins, snapping you out of your story with an accusation of your character. Your eyes go wide feeling embarrassment pool into your stomach, resulting in your cheeks becoming rosy red as your hands spring back.

“I didn’t mean to touch you like.” you stutter as if he were a cop, while he just enjoys watching you freak out. “You’re such a terrible liar, you’re always touching me, taking advantage of me just because I let you do it once” he sighs dramatically, pinching, and pulling your cheek as if he were an adult lecturing a child—in reality he would be the child…“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Don’t bother, I already know the truth.”

💫𝒵𝒶𝓎𝓃𝑒 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐹𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓇"

He lets you unwind, it’s good for a person to relax after a long day, and you it’s no different—maybe a bit more affection from him while he lets you grasp onto his arms.

Arms wrapped around his one arm while you talk about your day, with a large smile on your face, your body basically sinking into the side of his. He finds it amusing the way you act but what does he expect? You’ve always been like that; it's not like he hates it, he loves it.

He even lets you play with his tie, slowly untying it and fiddling with it as if we’re some kind of toy.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“I didn’t tell you about the craziest thing that happened today.” You realized, switching through topics so fast that he has to put his entire mind onto what you tell him, which he doesn’t mind, he’ll always listen to whatever you have to say. 

Your body against his, sinking into his side with your fingers fiddling with the tie as if it were a toy.

His eyes are loving to them while he listens to your voice with such attentiveness as if he were still taking a midterm exam back while he was a medical student. Just going on and on, telling every part of the story, before stopping to think of another story in the past. “Remember when we were kids!…” there you go again.

He’ll always find it adorable, a small plastered upon his gentle face from your hold speaks for itself.

 “Do you remember that?” 

“Pretty well, I remember another embarrassing thing you used to do, always holding and touching…seems that nothing changed,” he smiles at you, his hand going to withdraw your hand that was fiddled with a tie, his thumb gently rubbing your knuckles.

“Your touch still feels more like a medical exam,” he gently teased you, seeing your mouth agape made him love you more.

“Not that I dislike the feeling, I can’t go a day without it.” He reassures, bringing your hand to his heart, making you feel where his heart is.

“You can Continue speaking, I won’t stop you.”

💫𝒳𝒶𝓋𝒾𝑒𝓇 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐻𝓊𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒪𝒻 𝐿𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉"

He just loves to listen to your voice, whether it be a childish story about what happened that day or a drama your friend/coworker told you.

Now it’s no different even if he’s dozing off, his head flinching awake while you straddle his lap. It's fine! He’s not tired! You should keep on talking!

Through his half-lidded eyes looking back at you. Your touches might be the thing that brings him towards the border of going to sleep and staying awake, how dangerous you are.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“And then she left her boyfriend for her boss,” you gushed, leaning into his face to exaggerate the story more while he looked back at you with his tired gaze, “can you believe it, Xavier? And you know what her boyfriend did!” you exclaimed, he can’t help but let out a yawn.

“What did he do?” he asked sluggishly, his arms snaking their way up your waist, he might just be going in and out of sleep, every time he slowly closed his eyes and opens to jump in between different stories or different parts of one long story, yet he couldn’t fall asleep, feeling your hands move around his body.

“Xavier, are you awake?” 

You gently poke his cheek, while he just softly groans before he pushes you into his neck, taking the chance to hide himself in the crook of your neck. 

“You can keep talking…”

💫𝒮𝓎𝓁𝓊𝓈 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝒪𝒻 𝒪𝓃𝓎𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓊𝓈"

He’s very “attentive” to your little story about what happened in Linkon that day, with his eyes softly staring at you with that signature smirk. 

You have quite the hands, don’t you? He would think you were robbing him blind with your touches. Just feeling your arms on his bicep, his bicep right against your chest, even if he pulls slightly away, you just pull him back.

He can’t help himself but stare at you like, to the point you notice and stop your story under his gaze.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“So that’s what happened…” he hums, listening to your little stories, grasping tightly on his arm while you laugh at your own story, and the way your lips grin ear to ear. 

“Pity I wasn’t there to see that.” He murmured—the little voice in the back of your head tells that it’s probably not the story he's focused on, cocking his head to the side, watching you go off onto another rant. only for you to cut your story short when you locked eyes with him for too long.

“He…”

“Something wrong?” He tilts his eyebrow with a subtle smirk on his lips, watching your lips pressed together in nervousness. “Well…” you mutter, while he just laughs at your expression. 

“Go on, keep on talking, I'd rather not miss what you were telling me, keep grabbing my arm like that as well.”

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[deliciousangelfestival]

The Imperfect Couple - 8

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: The couple's arguments could be triggering.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , -

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

The next day, the headlines dominated the news:

"The Barnes Brothers' Hidden Scandal Exposed"

"Shawn Barnes: The Untouchable Elite Dodging Justice"

"Political Candidate’s Family Ties to Corruption Unveiled"

At the campaign headquarters, the atmosphere was thick with tension. The usual hum of activity was replaced by silence, only broken by the sound of phones ringing off the hook.

Steve stood near the table, crumpling a newspaper in his hands, frustration written all over his face. Bucky stood by the window, his posture rigid as he stared out into the distance, lost in thought.

Steve let out a heavy sigh, massaging his temples. "I didn’t expect they’d bring up Shawn at the debate."

Bucky turned slightly, his voice calm but carrying an edge. "You know Brock. He always hits below the belt, always makes it personal."

Steve glanced out at the campaign team, who were scrambling. The room beyond was a flurry of chaos: phones ringing non-stop, staff members anxiously typing responses, pacing as they fielded questions from the press, all trying to extinguish the flames of the scandal. Steve ran a hand through his hair as he watched, feeling the weight of the situation.

"The numbers are tanking," Steve muttered, his face grim. "After this, the public’s furious. Voters won’t back a candidate whose family used connections to dodge the law."

Bucky’s jaw tightened as Steve continued, "People hate it when those with power think they’re above punishment. That’s the real damage here. It’s not just about Shawn—it’s about what it represents."

The trend #CatchShawnBarnes was everywhere, climbing to the top spot on social media. The timing couldn’t have been worse. The firestorm had erupted, fueled by rumors and bots likely hired by Brock and Edgar’s teams, intensifying the outrage.

Bucky broke the silence with a quiet, "I’m sorry."

Steve looked at him, shaking his head. "Don’t be. This isn’t on you, Buck." His tone softened. "Besides, it’s not your fault."

Steve had known the Barnes family long enough to understand the full story. Shawn, the eldest son, always had an ego, fed by the wealth and privilege of his upbringing. With everything handed to him, he acted like the world owed him, seeing himself as untouchable.

In truth, it was Shawn who was supposed to enter politics. But unlike Bucky, he lacked the charisma and leadership qualities. Caroline, their mother, had long since given up hope on her eldest son, who had failed to live up to expectations.

Back then, Bucky had been a quiet presence, almost invisible in his own home. Caroline had never even heard his voice much, even though they lived under the same roof. But everything changed when Bucky entered law school. There, he shone.

He joined clubs, became student president, volunteered, organized demonstrations, and eventually graduated as valedictorian. Every trait of a leader was there, clear for everyone to see—especially Caroline. She shifted her attention to Bucky, molding him into the perfect candidate, ensuring he stayed on the path to success.

Shawn, once the golden child, watched as the spotlight shifted to his younger brother. The attention, the purpose he had once enjoyed, slipped away. He felt lost, purposeless. That’s when the spiral began. The drugs were his escape, his way of coping with the emptiness.

At first, it was subtle. But soon, it became public knowledge—Shawn Barnes was a cocaine addict. In an attempt to save face, Caroline and Julius sent him to rehab. But the real disaster struck when Shawn escaped, driving under the influence. That’s when the accident happened—the night he hit someone with his car.

Steve didn’t know the full details after that. What he did know was that Shawn had paid bail and was sent to another rehab, the entire incident hushed up. The Barnes family had buried the scandal deep, hoping it would never see the light of day.

But as Steve thought to himself, no matter how deep you bury something, eventually the stench of rot seeps through.

"I’ll fix this," Bucky said, his voice low but determined.

Steve raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "How, exactly?"

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The Barnes household felt colder than ever, the tension suffocating the room. Shawn sat in the corner, hunched over, hugging his knees. His fingernails were chewed down to the skin, his pale face etched with panic.

"Shit... shit..." he muttered under his breath, eyes darting around the room like a caged animal.

Across the room, Caroline and Julius were in a quiet panic. Caroline paced, wringing her hands, her face pale with fear. Julius stood by the window, his jaw clenched, staring out as if searching for answers that weren’t there.

You sat on the sofa, watching the unfolding chaos like a distant spectator. It was almost theatrical—the Barnes family, once so composed, unraveling before your eyes.

Just then, the door creaked open, and you turned to see Bucky walking in. His face was a mask of determination, his eyes dark and unreadable.

You rose from the sofa and approached him. Before you could speak, he cut you off with a low, firm voice. “I want you to stay out of sight. Away from the windows.”

You frowned but nodded, sensing the weight of his words. He brushed past you without another glance and made his way toward Shawn.

Shawn looked up at Bucky, his eyes wide and filled with fear. He seemed so small in front of his younger brother, almost shrinking under the weight of Bucky’s presence.

“Get up,” Bucky ordered, his voice hard. Without waiting for a response, he reached down and pulled Shawn to his feet.

Shawn stumbled but didn’t resist. He followed Bucky like a lost child.

“Where are you taking him?” Caroline’s voice trembled as she rushed forward to stop them, but Bucky didn’t break stride.

“What he should’ve done years ago,” Bucky answered coldly, dragging Shawn along.

Caroline hurried after them, her heels clicking against the floor. “Bucky, wait! What do you mean?”

Bucky led them outside, the sound of the door swinging open making Caroline stop in her tracks. She froze as her eyes widened in shock. There, right outside their home, were TV station cameras, police cars, and flashing lights.

Caroline’s heart pounded in her chest. “Bucky,” she hissed, her voice sharp with disbelief. “How could you do this? This is a public execution! You’re putting a guillotine to your own brother!”

Julius stepped forward, his voice tired but stern. “Son, is this really the only way?”

Bucky turned briefly to look at his parents, his expression cold. “We have to set an example.”

Caroline’s face twisted in fear, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “Bucky, please... don’t do this.”

Before Bucky could respond, Shawn’s voice rang out, shaky but clear. “Stop!” he shouted.

Caroline flinched, her eyes locking with Shawn’s. His face was pale, but his eyes, for the first time in years, looked determined.

“Mother,” Shawn said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve been free from jail, but there’s been a shackle on me ever since. Guilt has haunted me every day. I’ve been hiding, running, pretending it didn’t happen. But it did. And I need to face it.”

Bucky gave his brother a nod, and Shawn took a shaky breath before turning to him. “Let’s go.”

They walked toward the press together. Cameras flashed as Bucky led Shawn to the bouquet of microphones, the press shouting questions over one another. Shawn took a deep breath and stepped forward. His hands trembled as he gripped the podium.

“I made a mistake,” Shawn began, his voice cracking. “I was reckless... I hurt someone. I ran from it, and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry—for what I did and for hiding it for so long.”

As the words left his mouth, you could see the weight of guilt lifting from his shoulders, though his face remained heavy with regret. He glanced at Bucky, who stood beside him, stoic but supportive. Bucky knew how much the accident haunted Shawn, how it had eaten him alive from the inside out.

After Shawn finished his confession, he stepped away from the podium and voluntarily walked toward the waiting police car. The press erupted with questions aimed at Bucky. One reporter shouted above the rest, “Why did you expose your own brother like this?”

Bucky met the reporter’s gaze, his voice steady and firm. “Because no one is above the law.”

As Shawn was driven away, Caroline stood frozen in the doorway, her face a mask of fury. She didn’t want to look at Bucky, not now, not after what he’d done. Julius said nothing, too exhausted to protest or intervene.

Once the commotion had died down, you walked up to Bucky, your voice low. “You don’t feel guilty? Sacrificing your own brother like that?”

Bucky leaned in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, "I'll do anything to get that position. It’s all for you too, babe." His voice was low, dangerous, the tension between you crackling like a live wire.

You could feel the heat radiating off him, the intensity in his gaze as his lips hovered just inches from your skin. The closeness sent a shiver down your spine, your heart pounding in your chest. There was something intoxicating in the way he said it, like a promise that left you both thrilled and unnerved.

You met his gaze, your pulse racing. "You’re crazy," you muttered, though the words felt weaker than you intended.

Without another word, you pulled away, leaving him standing there, the charge of the moment lingering long after you had gone.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The next day you returned to the campaign headquarters, where the atmosphere was thick with tension.

So much had happened in the past 48 hours. The campaign team buzzed with a frenetic energy, fueled by the fallout from Shawn’s confession. Despite the chaos, there was a flicker of optimism; his admission had managed to regain some trust from the voters.

Yet, you could sense the undercurrent of anxiety. Everyone was on edge, aware that the storm wasn't over. Phone calls rang out, strategy meetings were called, and you could see the weight of the situation pressing down on each team member's shoulders. You felt a mix of relief and dread—relief that there was hope, but dread about what might come next.

Your brother, Tim was still focused and serious as he poured over the reports, his usual calm replaced by a quiet intensity. You watched him for a moment, feeling a strange pang of guilt in your chest. But you couldn’t linger on that.

“I’m going to get some coffee,” you muttered, more to yourself than anyone else.

The streets were busy, but your mind was elsewhere, lost in the chaos of everything that had happened. The scandal, the press, Bucky. It felt like everything was unraveling. The nearest café was only a block away, and you pushed through the door, grateful for the brief respite.

That’s when you saw him.

Ian.

He was leaning casually against the counter, a cup of coffee in hand, but the moment he spotted you, something changed in his expression. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, but it was far from friendly.

You froze in place, staring at him for a beat too long. “Are you spying on us?” you asked, your voice low but sharp as you crossed your arms, trying to keep your emotions in check.

Ian's smirk widened as if he’d been waiting for this. “Isn’t it obvious?” he replied, his tone almost teasing but dripping with bitterness. “I work with the other side now.”

You felt a surge of frustration, but more than that, something inside you twisted—an old wound reopening. You took a step closer, your eyes narrowing.

“We’ve worked together, Ian. We’ve seen injustice and unfairness in the world. But this…” You hesitated, searching his face for any trace of the person you used to know. “This feels personal.”

Ian’s smile faded, replaced by something darker. He snapped his fingers, and in an instant, everyone in the café left, leaving just the two of you inside.

You were taken aback, a chill running down your spine as the door swung shut behind the last customer.

He stepped forward, closing the distance between you, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You got that right,” he said, his eyes burning with something deep and unresolved.

“The person who died in that car accident? The one your dear Bucky’s brother killed? That was my twin brother.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the world around you narrowing to just Ian and the heavy weight of his words. “Your twin…” you whispered, the realization hitting you like a punch to the gut.

Ian’s expression hardened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Yeah. My twin brother. Both of us were put up for adoption. I didn’t even know he existed until I was fourteen years old.”

He turned his gaze away from you, the memories clearly painful, but he didn’t stop. “I was adopted by a British couple. Grew up thinking I was an only child. It wasn’t until I did some digging into my adoption records that I found out about him. My twin.”

You felt a chill run down your spine as you listened, unable to speak. Ian’s voice was tight with emotion, but he pressed on.

“I was so damn happy when I found him. We bonded right away, as if we’d never been apart.” His voice softened, but the pain was unmistakable.

“We stayed in touch. Became close. We had so much to catch up on, and it was like I finally had someone who understood me in a way no one else could.”

He shook his head, his jaw clenching. “But then…” He looked back at you, his eyes blazing with anger. “Then Shawn Barnes took him away from me. He killed him. And your husband family covered it all up.”

You flinched at the venom in his words, your heart pounding in your chest. You had no idea. You hadn’t known the full story, and now it was staring you in the face.

Ian stepped even closer, invading your space, his eyes searching yours for something—maybe regret, maybe guilt. “They buried it. Buried him. And now you’re standing by their side, supporting the man whose family let my brother’s killer walk free.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. You felt frozen, torn between your loyalty to Bucky and the weight of Ian’s grief and anger.

You knew about the cover-up involving Shawn, but who were you to uncover the truth, especially knowing it would be futile to fight against Caroline?

Now, guilt washed over you for having ignored this. It turned out the victim was closer than you had ever realized.

Ian’s voice softened, but the intensity didn’t fade. “Tell me,” he said, his gaze piercing into you. “After all of this… after everything you know… do you still trust him?”

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[lunaritex]

CHASING REDEMPTION. . .ᐟ — kinich.

—✩ content: modern+spiderman au, established relationship, reader is gender-neutral, both reader and kinich are in college, reader knows kinich’s true identity, angst with comfort, character death.

—✩ author's note: ever since i saw this one edit of peter parker jumping down to save gwen… i knew what i had to do, except there is a small twist at the end. @kazuhaiku

Kinich swore he had planned the entire process in his mind. Everything was in place and all he needed was to be mentally and physically prepared to tell you the truth. But no matter how many plans he came up with, he did not take into account how a sudden robbery happened, resulting in him having to leap into action. He did not take into account how the robbery was not what it seems, with the robbers more than prepared to stand their grounds. They were armed with dangerous weapons that one could only obtain through illegal means. 

One thing led to another and he ended up arriving hours later than the agreed time. Kinich arrived at the agreed venue for your date and he was not surprised to spot no sign of you. He pointedly ignored the pitiful look the staff threw his way when he left in a hurry. Not wanting to waste anymore time, he used his spiderwebs to zip across the sky, turning a blind eye to how some people stopped to glance at him. 

It took him exactly five minutes to arrive at the balcony of your apartment. He nimbly landed on his feet, peering through the windows as his eyes furiously scanned your room. He swore his heart shattered when he saw a lump laying on the bed, covered with a blanket from head to toe. 

Knock knock. Knock knock. 

You raised your head when you heard someone knocking on your window, revealing your swollen eyes and tearstained face. You frowned when you realized it was your boyfriend. A part of you wants to leave him outside but you knew he was too stubborn for his own good. Surrendering, you unreluctantly crawled out of bed and moved to the window stand, unlocking the lock and slid it open. Shivers ran down your spine when the freezing wind grazed your skin. 

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be busy saving the city or something?” You asked, the sarcasm dripping in your tone made Kinich winced. 

Normally, you would have felt remorse at how you snapped at him but you have had enough. Clenching and unclenching your fists, you looked at him with narrowed eyes. “Look, I’m not in the mood to talk to you right now. You can come back another time-”

“No, I know you’re mad at me and I want to talk about it now,” he interrupted.

And that was the final straw. 

“It’s always all about you, you, you! When have you ever thought about me!? I bet the thought of me sitting in a cafe or restaurant, waiting for my boyfriend for hours, only for him to never turn up has never crossed your mind! Do you know how downright humiliating it is for me to leave and how I have to tolerate the sympathy glances thrown my way, as I walk out of the place? I know you’re doing a good deed by saving the city but sometimes, I wish you could set aside some time for me.” 

Your voice cracked like a whip, startling Kinich into silence. The fire in your eyes was undeniable, a mix of betrayal and exasperation. He tried to respond but you didn’t let him. 

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this. It feels like you don’t even care about me anymore and this relationship is starting to feel one-sided,” your voice grew a notch softer, exhaustion evident in your voice; as if you had already given up trying to fight for something that was no longer there anymore. 

“If you’re not going to say anything, then I think it’s best to end this. Goodbye Kinich and I wish you the best of luck,” you forced a teary-eyed smile at him, sliding the door closed and pulling the curtains, not wanting to see him a second longer. 

Kinich on the other hand, was rendered speechless. He wanted to talk to you again but since it was clear you had cut the line, he had no choice but to respect your decision. After sparing your window one more glance, he zips away into the dark sky. 

~

The next three weeks passed slowly. Both of you were busy preparing for your final exams of the semester. No matter how hard you try to focus on your studies, you just cannot seem to stop thinking about Kinich. Random thoughts like ‘is he doing fine?’, ‘has he eaten?’ and sometimes ‘I hope he’s not hurt again…’. You have not consulted your group of friends about your relationship but judging from how he was not constantly by your side, they already knew what happened. 

Currently, you are heading home after spending hours cramped in the campus library. You were too exhausted to be mindful of your surroundings. You had no idea that you were being followed, until it was too late. 

“Mphmf-!?” 

Your startled shout was instantly muffled when a gloved hand covered your mouth. Your sight turned blurry after you accidentally inhaled something. The last thing you heard was a man saying something along the lines of using you as bait for Spiderman, before everything turned black. 

When you regained consciousness, it took all of your willpower to not scream at how you were dangerously dangling in the air. The only thing supporting you was the rope tightly tied around your waist. Your wrists were tied and held behind your back. You didn’t dare try to move about, not wanting the rope to snap into half. You looked around, squinting your eyes as you tried to make sense of where you were through the darkness. 

All you could see was long and rectangular-shaped steel bars and you knew you were on a construction site. The pockets of your jeans were empty, meaning your kidnappers must have taken your phone after you were knocked out. There was nothing much you could do, except to play the role of a waiting duck. You sighed, lowering your head to look down at the ground and for a split moment, the thought of death flew through your mind. 

“Look who’s awake? Are you getting anxious that Spiderman isn’t here yet?” A sinister voice pierced through the silence. 

You raised your head to see two armed and masked men approaching you, coming to a stop at the edge. One man has a muscular build while the other man was as thin as a branch. Not wanting them to know they have the upperhand, you merely remained silent and looked at them with a bored expression. 

“I won’t rely on him that much if I were you. I doubt he knows that you guys are waiting for him,” you replied. 

The muscular man laughed. “Hah! Nice try, kid. But we’ve managed to drop him a nice little text using your phone, telling him to meet us here at nine sharp. And if he doesn’t, then I guess you can say bye to that boyfriend of yours.” 

Your blood ran cold at his words. 

“I’m here now, let them go.” 

A familiar voice interrupted your brief conversation. The two men turned around and there he was; Spiderman in his glory. You knew Kinich was seething with rage, judging from how his fists were clenched tightly the moment he was informed that you were held hostage. The men smirked in triumph as they slowly approached him, leaving you there to observe the scene unfold by itself. 

“About time you show up. It’s time for revenge for what you did to my face,” the muscular man said, pointing at his masked face with his thumb as he pulled out a gun. You gulped when you saw how dangerous they looked. 

“I don’t remember doing such a thing to you, but perhaps it might be a good thing for you,” your ex(?) replied, and you would have snickered if not for your current situation. 

“How dare you! I should have killed you when I had the chance!” He roared, enraged and started running full speed at Kinich, with his fellow partner-in-crime hot on his heels. 

From your vantage point, you watched with bated breath, heart racing as Kinich faced off against the two heavily-armed men. The tension crackled in the air, thick and electric. Kinich moved with a mix of agility and determination, dodging a flurry of blows while keeping his focus sharp. You could see the muscles in his jaw tighten as he assessed the situation, calculating his next move.

Each clash of steel rang out, echoing in the stillness around them. The men were imposing, their weapons gleaming menacingly in the light, but Kinich stood his ground, a fierce intensity in his eyes. With every punch and counter, you felt your own pulse quicken. You could only watch, willing him to outsmart his opponents and to emerge from the intense battle unscathed. Just when the fight was about to hit the climax and the two men were on the verge of being defeated, the skinny man turned to you. 

You watched in pure horror as he raised his weapon, aiming at the rope and fired. Whatever happened next was in slow motion. Your vision made an abrupt turn to the right, as gravity took over your body and pulled you down. The high-pitched scream you let out was not enough to describe the pure fear pumping through your veins. You made eye contact with Kinich and you could imagine the look of disbelief mixed with horror behind the mask. 

“Kinich!”

You screamed his name at the top of your lungs as your body began its descent to the hard concrete ground at lightning speed. Kinich forced himself to move, dodging the poor attempts of the men trying to stop him. Just for good measure, he shot a few webs aimed at their limbs to prevent them from moving. He jumped off the edge without hesitation, reaching out his hand as he tried to grab you. 

“Hold on, I’m coming!” He shouted, pure desperation heard in his voice. 

With a swift, fluid motion, he shot his web toward you, the silken strands glistening in the air before they wrapped securely around your stomach. Before you could even react, he yanked you towards him, the world spinning as you felt the force of his pull. Just as you landed against him, he swung into the air, the rush of wind whipping past you. Your heart raced as he propelled you both over the danger, each swing taking you away from the chaos below.

He landed gracefully in a safe area, setting you down gently. Your breath caught in your throat as you met his gaze—eyes fierce yet filled with concern. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, urgency in his voice, the adrenaline still coursing through him. You nodded, shaken but alive, gratitude swelling within you.

Your entire body was trembling like a fallen leaf. Kinich gently placed you on the ground, still holding you as your legs gave way. You remained still, the adrenaline and fear of experiencing close death still pumping through your veins as he removed the web from your frame, wincing at how some were still stuck on your clothes. None of you said a word after that, unsure of what to say to break the silence. 

“I-”

He wanted to speak, but you threw yourself at him, hugging him with a vice-like grip as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. Kinich fumbled about due to your combined weight but he managed to catch himself before he could hit his head against the ground. He removed the gloves and pulled the mask off, placing them on the side as he returned the embrace. Your sniffles and sobs were the only thing occupying the silence and Kinich knew you were beyond terrified of what you had just gone through. 

“Hey, it’s fine now. You’re safe, don’t worry, I got you,” he murmured, speaking in a soft and gentle tone as he reassures you. He ran his hand through your hair; an action he knows you love by heart. 

“I was so scared… I thought I was going to die…” You whimpered through your tears as you moved away from him, resting your hands on his shoulders. 

“Kinich, I’m sorry for snapping at you. That wasn’t nice of me, especially when you are doing something good which is saving the city and people,” you apologized, but he shook his head. 

“You don’t have to apologize. You weren’t in the wrong, in fact, it should be me. I shouldn’t have neglected you to the point where you felt like the relationship had become one-sided. I promise you that from now on, I will give you more of my time,” he gave you a small smile, reaching out to wipe away the stray teardrop on your cheek. 

“But, I don’t want to get in the way of your duty,” you protested. 

He merely shrugged his shoulders. “I’m sure the police can handle the troubles themselves for a day or more.” 

You chuckled and his features softened when he heard your laugh. You flinched when he suddenly carried you bridal-style in his arms after he stuffed his gloves and mask into his pocket. 

“Now that we’re done here, it’s time to go home, shall we?” He asked, looking down at you with a loving smile. 

“Indeed, we shall, Spiderman.”

[brucewaynehater101]

Hello, I am the person from a few days ago that mentioned House MD. .y idea for it is very simple and very funny. Tim ends up in House's hospital with House as his doctor. He was found unconscious on the side of the road with 3 stab wounds, two broken ribs, and a broken leg.

Tim is Knocked Out and in Civilian Clothes with No Wallet. Which means No ID. They call him John Doe for now and move on to stitching him up and doing an xray of his chest so they can fix up his ribs and check for internal bleeding from the stabs. They are having some kind of debate about how the kid has clearly had his ribs shattered many, many times and how they healed when House suddenly stands up and says, "all of you are missing the forest for the tree. Ignore the ribs for a second before the kid dies." He then leaves the room to the confusion of all the assistants. It takes almost ten seconds for one of them to yell, "WHERES HIS SPLEEN"

Within an hour Tim has been put in one if their Anti Germ Bubbles for the Immuno Compromised. Oh the bright side he 100% has a room all to himself! Tim wakes up in the bubble, very confused with House looming over him. Tim is Baffled and says, "who send you? What info are you after?" And House just says, "im your doctor. What's your name so we can stop calling you John Doe The Spleenless Wonder."

Tim and House verbally joust almost constantly for Tim's entire stay and honestly? Most relaxed he's been in *years*. However it takes *days* for them to pry him name out of him and it's not even *from* him. Someone saw his face on a magazine in the grocery store check out and went "that's out John Doe!!" And when Tim tells them that he is Tim Drake he simply says, "I didn't tell you for a very simple reason. If word got out it was The Tim Drake in your hospital, which is outside Gothem, could you imagine the Paparazzi? And what would happen? I can garentee you at least one person would show up trying to kill me. Why do you think I was outside gothem beat up? Assassins, obviously." House's boss is terrified this guy is gunna sue them into the ground for how House has been jabbing at him constantly.

House simply asks why his bones look like Swiss Cheese and Tim simply raises an eyebrow at him and says, "I live in Gothem."

Later on after Tim gets released, he buys the entire hospital, becomes its new boss, goes to House's boss who actually runs the hospital and says, "I do not care about running this hospital. It's all up to you, I want No Power here. I am simply here to triple your budget, no quadruple it. And you remain completely in power on one condition. I want House to be my Primary Doctor. He's fun."

Oh and if you want some Angst, House asking if Tim wants to call someone to pick him up and Tim says, "oh, I have a tracker on me. Someone will show up to check me out once they notice I'm missing." House squinting at him and says, "you've been here two weeks. So I don't believe you." But Tim is telling the truth. His tracker has said he's been at an out of city hospital for weeks and no one really noticed he was even gone.

Fuck yeah. I've seen some clips of House and, despite the large amounts of medical malpractice they should be sued for, Tim would absolutely enjoy House's banter.

Also, I'd so live for House and Tim trying to trick each other. Tim realizes quickly that House doesn't believe a word about what Tim says about how he got his injuries. House keeps trying to pull one over on Tim so that Tim actually receives medical treatment (especially because Tim keeps going back out on field with injuries). It becomes a somewhat friendly game

Fair warning, I'm probably about to butcher House's character. Idk enough about him, but here's what I think. Tim would prefer House as his main doctor for two reasons:

How House cares

House isn't Batman/Bat affiliated

For the first point, House does care but not in the way most others do. I think Tim will eventually start telling House the truth about how he gets his injuries because of how House reacts. House isn't going to be overly sympathetic, pity Tim, or try to mother hen him. Tim will stroll up, say he's been held without food for a week and has 3 broken bones, and House will just banter with Tim.

If Tim's being an idiot (like not resting), House won't try to tell him off. He won't yell or undermine Tim. He'll just point blank tell Tim he deserves whatever injury he got for being an idiot while helping the vigilante treat it.

Tim will never admit to being a cape, but he eventually trusts House enough not to hide it.

Then there's House not being a Bat doctor. Leslie may or may not inform Bruce of any injuries Tim gets that Leslie deems is important for Bruce to know about. Alfred for sure won't hide that shit. Either way, whether founded or not, Tim can't trust those doctors to give away his information "for his own good."

House probably wouldn't go out of his way to inform Bruce (especially if we add on your angst angle).

Probably fucked up House's characterization, but let me know what ya think! Feel free to send another ask or reblog or whatever with changes ya think I need to add

[raindailies]

for as the stars burn bright, your name alone will be one i bear to light.

pairing. aventurine x gn!reader

summary. love is stupid, and fundamentally unforgiving to those which suffer the hands of it. To which, Aventurine included is no exception to the inexorable truth of it all, no matter how lucky he may be.

warnings. major character death, angst no comfort, angst, hey angst, some mentions of gore and blood.

genre. angst

notes. did i cook chat?? dividers by @/cafekitsune <3 basically just word vomit

Aventurine stared, and stared, and stared. His eyelids felt heavy, his shoulders felt more shackling than normal, his hands felt numb resting on either sides of him, his legs didn't make an effort to move.

Aventurine kept staring longer, is that all he ever knows to do nowadays? He could hear you berating him in the back of his mind, telling him to get on his feet and such.

Oh but wait.

you can't anymore.

you're gone. Gone as you had came, and gone as the wind had passed through the freckles of the sky, dazed over like a small speck of dust had gone. You were gone. And he had to accept that, it feels like a small sentence, yet it feels so much more for him.

In truth, Aventurine doesn't know how long he's stared into the picture of you and him placed vacantly on the table, there used to be 2 cups side by side, usually your side of the coffee left unfinished half-way, and his already emptied.

Now, there's only one cup, sitting alone, a despondent being. Yet, not far from it, your cup had laid, broken on the floor. Aventurine doesn't dare to pick it up, it's not fully broken, but he's scared that had he picked it up, he'd somehow damage it further.

So, he leaves it be. Aventurine was never one for remorse, or grieving. The loss in his life came and went as fast as the night had passed before him, so the blonde didn't feel much. That was what he'd thought.

Even so, he can't ignore the aching pool in his stomach, a void you once filled to the brim with warmth yet now left empty when you left. Perhaps it is his fault, everything leading up, was his fault alone.

He shouldn't have met you at all. You shouldn’t have influenced yourself with the likes of him, look where that got you. He’s considered lucky, as people would whisper praises to him, honey toned and sweet with nothing but admiration.

But what good is that luck if he couldn’t save the one he loves most? What good is he if all people he had loved seemed to disappear before him? What ‘good’ luck does he possibly have for the gods to take you away from him?

Aventurine has many questions, many left unanswered. Some for you, some for the universe, many for the questioning of the fate bestowed upon him. But Aventurine knows better.

He knows staring at the stuff you left wouldn’t do him any good, he knows pouring two cups of coffee each morning would only deepen the hole in his chest, he knows calling out an “I’m home” would get no response.

He knows recalling your bloodied body in his arms would only make his head pang endlessly, as his breathing became abnormal, and his mouth parted in panic. He blinked again, and again. A futile attempt at blinking away to rising ache of his throat—tears.

Aventurine doesn’t cry. He won’t. When his home was on fire, when he was enslaved, he’d bite his tounge to stop any flowing tears. It was a weakness, nothing more than a vulnerability to be used against him.

But you came, you held him close to your chest, fingers combing through the soft locks of his hair with a hum, smile on your face as the sunset accentuated your being, as if you couldn’t look more ethereal to him. “you can cry, Kakavasha.” He remember you’d say, softly as you whispered the words like a mantra, words lulling him at the times which he needed most, “you’re human.” You repeated to him, genuine filled your words only as you spoke.

So Aventurine—no, so Kakavasha, perhaps just this once, will cry. Cry for your sake, cry for you knowing no more would he wake up in the warm embrace of your body, cry knowing no more would he be met with a ringing laughter.

But one thing he knows for sure, for as long as the stars shine, your name alone shall be the one he bares to light. Forever and after, in the soft light of the galaxy, would your name be sung.

Maybe then, he can properly say ‘I love you’ again.

notes. so uh i wrote this last night at 12 barely awake, weirdly motivational and now that i'm sober and definitely wake, I genuinely have no idea where i was going with this?? i just omitted words after words man.

[kc-writes-sometimes]

Crown and Kin | Chapter Two

Ao3 Account | Masterlist

Chapter Two: History

Word Count: 3,524

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Summary: Daella’s world begins to unravel as secrets from her past come to light, forcing her to confront hard truths. As tensions rise and alliances are tested, she finds herself caught between the safety she’s known and the dangerous future that awaits.

Themes & Warnings: 18+, Character Death, Rape/Non Con, Future Smut, Canon Typical Violence, Canon Typical Incest, Angst, Dad Daemon Targaryen, Bastards and Brothels, Fluff, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Canon Divergence, Dysfunctional Family, Team Black Centric, Slow Burn, Eventual Romance

Daella of King's Landing

The soft murmur of voices tugged at the edge of Daella’s consciousness, pulling her from the grip of a restless sleep. She blinked, the dim light of dawn seeping through the heavy drapes, casting long shadows that cloaked the figures at the far end of the room. Rosalie and Ser Harwin stood close, their faces drawn with worry, the tension between them thick enough to cut.

"He saw her, Rose," Ser Harwin muttered, his voice low and heavy with anxiety. His pacing was restless, his boots making only the faintest whisper against the stone floor. "He knows her name. She can't stay here. It's too dangerous."

"And where would you have me send her?" Rosalie shot back, her voice trembling as she fought to maintain her composure. "She's just a child, Harwin. No title, no lands, no parents—nothing that would warrant a good match with someone worthy, let alone one that would keep her safe."

Daella kept her eyes half-closed, feigning sleep, watching them both through her lashes. Rosalie's appearance was far from her usual pristine self—her strawberry-blonde hair, usually perfectly styled, hung loose and dishevelled, framing her face in a way that made her seem younger, almost fragile. Her pale pink robe, a stark contrast to the confident woman Daella knew, hung loosely on her slender frame. The vibrant green of her eyes seemed duller today, weighed down by worry as she glanced at Daella and whispered, "We are all she has."

Harwin stopped pacing, his expression softening as he pleaded, "Let me take her to Harrenhal. She’d be safe there. Daemon’s already asked if Daella was mine; it could work. Alys wouldn’t begrudge taking care of another child."

Rosalie rolled her eyes, her voice dropping to a sharp whisper. "I will not let her be raised in a haunted castle with no roof, by a witch!" Her words cut like a knife, and Daella saw Harwin flinch, his jaw tightening at the mention of his ancestral home. Harrenhal’s reputation was well-known—a once-grand fortress now reduced to ruins by dragonfire, a place of whispers and ghosts. Yet, the tales had always intrigued her. She often dreamed of walking its crumbling halls, feeling the history beneath her feet.

Harwin’s voice was softer now, tinged with resignation. "I promised Elyse I’d look after her. She’s my responsibility."

Rosalie stepped closer, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. "We both made that promise, Harwin. She’s as much my responsibility as yours." She glanced at Daella, her gaze tender. "Besides, you have responsibilities elsewhere. Daemon will soon return to whatever hole he crawled out of and forget he ever saw her. Daella doesn’t matter to him. Stop worrying, Harwin."

Daella stifled a yawn as she pushed herself up onto her elbows, the room coming into clearer focus. The tension hung in the air like a thick fog. Ser Harwin was leaning against the wall near the door, his broad shoulders slumped under the weight of worry, while Rosalie moved toward Daella, her expression softening into something more familiar.

"What time is it?" Daella asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"It’s time to get up, my dear," Rosalie replied, her voice gentle as she brushed a strand of hair out of Daella’s face, tucking it behind her ear. One of the few vivid memories Daella had of her mother was how she used to play with her hair—brushing, braiding, and twisting it with oils she had or could borrow. Rosalie had taken it upon herself to continue that tradition. Every month, without fail, she applied some kind of oil to Daella’s hair, just as her mother had done. It smelled awful and looked even worse, but Rosalie insisted it was necessary to keep the hair manageable. She always said the women upstairs used it too and that Daella should be thankful they let her borrow it.

"Is Ser Harwin staying to eat with us?" Daella asked, her voice bright with hope as she slid out of bed, the cool stone floor jolting her fully awake.

Harwin offered her a small, wry smile. "I’m afraid not, little flame. I’ve been summoned to explain why I’m missing a helmet from my uniform." He winked, then turned on his heel and strode toward the door.

As he left, the door closing softly behind him, the room seemed quieter, but the tension still lingered like a shadow. Rosalie sighed, her eyes following him before turning back to Daella with a forced smile.

"Come now," she said, trying to muster some enthusiasm. "Let’s get this mane of yours under control."

The sun was high in the sky as Rosalie and Daella walked through the bustling streets. Rosalie rarely took her with her when she went to pick up supplies for the brothel, but after the events of the other night, she seemed unwilling to let Daella out of her sight. Although Daella wasn’t sure why, it seemed that the encounter with Prince Daemon had been blown out of proportion.

"Did you hear what I said, Daella?" Rosalie’s voice cut through her thoughts as she tugged on her arm.

"What? Sorry," Daella replied quickly, snapping back to attention. Rosalie shook her head and pointed at the stall in front of them.

"I asked what you wanted for dinner," she said, motioning to the grey-haired man behind the stall, who was eyeing Daella with mild curiosity. "Fish or pork?"

Daella cocked her head to one side, considering the options. "Pork, I think. Can I look at the stalls?"

"Of course." Daella was already walking away when she heard Rosalie call out after her, "But stay close and keep your hands to yourself!"

The main thoroughfare was alive with activity, the stalls crammed together as if every inch of space were valuable. The royal family’s carriages occasionally rolled down this road, though how they managed it, Daella couldn’t understand. The road was barely wide enough for the throngs of people, let alone carriages. But in the warmer seasons, everyone seemed happier, more willing to spend their hard-earned coin, even if the prices only dropped by a copper or two. A bargain was still a bargain, after all.

As Daella wandered past the colorful stalls, something shiny caught her eye on one of the tables ahead. She approached the old woman manning the stall, her gaze dropping to the jewelry laid out on a soft red cloth—silver rings, gold bracelets, and gems in vibrant hues of red, green, and blue. One piece, in particular, stood out—a necklace half-hidden in a pile, its color darker and more mysterious than anything else around it.

"What is that? It’s beautiful," Daella asked, pointing to the necklace.

The woman pulled it from the pile, the red and black gems glinting in the sunlight. From this angle, the metal appeared silver, though it had looked almost black before. She placed it in front of Daella with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "It’s too expensive for you, my dear."

"I asked what it was, not how much it is," Daella retorted stiffly, turning away with a flick of her hair. She marched off, her braid whipping behind her as she left the old woman to her trinkets.

Continuing down the row of stalls, Daella stopped at a long table covered in books. She picked one up, thumbing through the pages, pausing every so often to trace the inked drawings. The words were a mystery to her, but the pictures told their own stories.

"Ten Thousand Ships," a strong voice said from behind her, startling Daella into slamming the book shut. "Nymeria was certainly a force of nature."

She spun around, nearly colliding with the body bent over her shoulder. Stepping back, Daella looked up into the familiar face of Prince Daemon Targaryen, his silver hair catching the light, his purple eyes fixed on her.

"Who’s Nymeria?" Daella asked, looking down at the book in her hands.

"You should know, you’ve been reading her book," he replied, his brow furrowing as if puzzled by her question.

"I was only looking at the pictures. The words don’t make any sense," Daella admitted, dropping her gaze to the ground, embarrassed.

"You can’t read, can you?" Daemon’s voice held a note of concern, his confusion deepening. It wasn’t uncommon for girls like her to be unable to read—there was no need to learn—but she supposed all noble children were taught from a young age.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I never needed to learn. Rosalie can, I think."

Daemon’s gaze softened as he studied her, as if trying to solve a puzzle. The silence between them grew awkward and heavy.

"What are you doing out here by yourself?" His face wrinkled in annoyance as he looked through the crowd. "I thought my instructions were clear."

"Rosalie and I came out to buy things for dinner. I’m sure she’s around somewhere. She told me not to go far and not to touch anything," Daella said, rising onto her tiptoes to see if she could spot Rosalie in the crowd.

"It seems you’ve broken more than one rule today, little princess," Daemon chuckled, his voice a mixture of amusement and reprimand. He tapped the book cradled in Daella’s arms before reaching into his pocket. With a flick of his wrist, a shiny coin sailed through the air, landing with a clink in the hand of the man behind the table. Swiftly, Daemon tucked the book under one arm and scooped Daella up with the other, pressing her securely against his side.

From this new height, everything seemed so different, so far away. Daemon was tall, taller than Ser Harwin by a good measure. As they retraced Daella’s steps through the crowded streets, she couldn’t resist sticking her tongue out at the jewelry seller who had scolded her earlier. The woman scowled, but it only made Daemon chuckle more, his amusement vibrating through his chest and into Daella.

His silver hair brushed against her cheek as they walked, soft and almost silken. Unable to resist, Daella reached up to play with the ends, marveling at how much softer they felt than her own tangled locks. Softer even than Rosalie’s. Her fingers moved further up, the urge to braid his hair growing irresistible. Carefully, she began to weave a few strands at the base of his neck.

"What are you doing?" Daemon asked, his voice tinged with amusement, though softer now, as if they shared a secret.

"Braiding your hair," Daella replied, her focus wholly on the task at hand, too absorbed to glance up at his face.

"And why is that?" he queried, the hint of a smile in his tone. He sounded different from the stern man she’d met before. Kinder, perhaps. Or maybe just in a better mood.

"Because your hair is soft and pretty. It's prettier than mine, so I think it deserves a braid," Daella answered honestly, her small fingers working diligently. Daemon’s sudden bark of laughter startled her, and she nearly dropped the braid. Determined, she quickly resumed her work, not wanting to ruin the neatness she’d managed. The thin braid she’d fashioned was barely noticeable, hidden among the silver strands as it disappeared beneath his doublet. A small smile tugged at her lips at the thought that he might leave it there, a secret only they would know.

As they turned into a familiar street, Daella’s surroundings snapped her back to reality. "Are you taking me home?" she asked, a thread of apprehension weaving through her voice.

"I am," Daemon’s tone shifted, stern and unyielding. His gaze fixed ahead on the building in front of them. "I’m taking you home, and then I’m going to have a word with your mother." With one fluid motion, he set Daella down on the ground before pushing open the side door to the brothel. The darkness inside suggested that Rosalie had yet to return from the markets.

The room was silent as Daella kicked off her boots and dropped them by the bed. A sudden thought occurred to her. "How did you know where I live?"

Daemon sighed, moving to light a torch on the wall. "King’s Landing may change in many ways, but its bones remain the same. I frequented this place often when I was younger. My brother, too, though he stopped coming after he married Aemma. I’ve only returned once since her passing."

"Oh," Daella murmured, glancing down at the dusty floor. "I’m sorry."

"There’s no need for apologies, sweet girl," Daemon said gently, placing the book on the table before sinking into one of the creaking wooden chairs. "Now, enough of such dreary topics. How about I tell you the tale of Princess Nymeria and her ten thousand ships?"

Daemon’s storytelling must have lulled Daella to sleep, for when she next opened her eyes, the room was bathed in the soft light of the rising moon. She glanced around, searching for any sign that Rosalie had returned, but the room was empty save for the figure slumped at the foot of her bed. Daemon was still there, snoring softly, his back against the footboard, one leg stretched out, the other bent at an angle, his chin resting on his chest.

A mischievous thought struck Daella, and she quietly leaned over the edge of the bed, retrieving one of her black shoes. Taking careful aim, she threw it at Daemon, quickly lying back down and squeezing her eyes shut, feigning sleep.

"I saw that," Daemon’s laughter rumbled through the room, causing a giggle to escape Daella’s lips.

Their laughter was abruptly cut short by the sound of a voice outside the door. Daemon’s expression turned serious as he moved swiftly, positioning himself behind the door, out of view. He pressed a finger to his lips in silent command, drawing his sword with a quiet hiss. Understanding his signal, Daella bundled herself under the blanket, pretending to be asleep.

"Oh, thank the gods," Rosalie’s voice was filled with relief as she rushed through the door, nearly tripping over her skirts in her haste. But before she could reach Daella’s bed, Daemon kicked the door shut with a resounding thud, causing her to whirl around in shock.

"The gods had little to do with it," Daemon said, his voice low as he sheathed his sword and moved past her, reclaiming his seat at the table.

Rosalie’s relief quickly morphed into anger as she turned to face Daemon, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "What are you doing here, Daemon?" she demanded, her tone sharp and devoid of any honorifics.

"You forget yourself, Rosalie," Daemon replied, rising from the chair with a deliberate slowness that made his height and presence all the more imposing. He rested his hands on the pommel of his sword, the gesture unmistakably threatening.

Rosalie’s face paled as she backed away, her movements cautious as she made her way around the bed. Her hand brushed against Daella’s hair, smoothing it back from her face as she glanced down at her, her expression a mix of worry and resolve.

"Why are you here, my prince?" Rosalie’s voice was strained, her teeth clenched as she forced out the words.

"Much better," Daemon mocked, a glint of amusement in his eyes as he tilted his head slightly, regarding her with an air of superiority. "I am here because I found Daella wandering the streets. Alone. Again."

"So you decided to kidnap her?" Rosalie snapped, her voice barely concealing the fury simmering beneath the surface.

"I didn’t kidnap her, Rosalie," Daemon corrected with a sigh, shaking his head as if dealing with a particularly stubborn child. "I brought her home. To you and her mother." He paused, his eyes scanning the room before landing back on Rosalie. "Where is Elyse?"

The mention of Daella’s mother sent a jolt of confusion through her. How could he speak of her as if he knew her? Daella’s mother had been gone for years, long before she could remember.

"Why would you think she’s Elyse’s?" Rosalie asked, her voice wavering slightly as she positioned herself between Daemon and Daella, her stance protective.

"It’s not hard to see," Daemon said, pacing slowly, his eyes never leaving Rosalie. "Daella looks exactly like her. Now, where is she? I wish to speak with her." His voice took on a taunting lilt as he called out, "Eeelyyyse, come out, come out, wherever you are."

Rosalie flinched at his words, her eyes darting toward Daella briefly, a flash of pain crossing her features before she forced her expression back to neutrality. "Stop that! You’ll wake the girl," Rosalie scolded, her voice tight with barely suppressed anger. "Elyse died two years ago."

Daemon froze mid-step, his entire demeanor shifting in an instant. A storm of emotions played across his face before he spun around, striding toward Rosalie with an intensity that made the air in the room feel charged. He reached her in two long steps, his hands seizing her arms with a grip that made Rosalie wince. He pinned her against the foot of the bed, his face inches from hers, his voice low and dangerous.

"How old is she? Is she mine?" he growled, his eyes burning with a mixture of fury and desperation.

The sudden violence jolted Daella out of her daze. She bolted upright, heart pounding in her chest, eyes wide as she took in the scene unfolding before her. Everything felt wrong, twisted, as if the world had been upended. The warmth that once surrounded her was gone, replaced by an icy dread that crept into her bones. She couldn’t make sense of what was happening. She didn’t have a father—never had, never needed one. The words echoed in her mind, over and over. Rosalie and Harwin were all she’d ever known.

"Don’t be ridiculous," Rosalie spat, her voice laced with both defiance and fear as she struggled to pry Daemon’s hands off her arms. "Why does it even matter?"

Daemon’s eyes flickered with something dark and dangerous, a shadow that threatened to consume everything in its path. His grip loosened for a moment, only to tighten again as his hands slid up to Rosalie’s throat. His fingers flexed, pressing into her skin as he leaned closer, his breath hot and menacing against her face. "I will not ask again, Rosalie," he whispered, his voice now a lethal calm. "Is. She. Mine?"

The room seemed to shrink around Daella as she watched in horror. Her breath came in ragged gasps, each one catching in her throat as the realization began to dawn. Daemon’s face twisted into a cruel sneer as Rosalie, trembling under his grip, finally gave a small, defeated nod.

Everything shattered. The world Daella knew crumbled into dust as the truth—a truth she had never even considered—crashed over her like a wave of ice. She had never thought much about having a father and never needed to. Rosalie had always been there for her, nurturing her, comforting her when she was sick, and celebrating her namedays with whatever small gifts she could find. And there was Ser Harwin—strong, dependable Harwin, who had always been like a father to her. But now, everything was uncertain.

She couldn’t stay here. She couldn’t face this—whatever this was. Before Daella knew it, her feet were moving, driven by a desperate need to escape. She leaped from the bed and bolted for the door, not bothering with her robe, a jacket, or even her shoes. The cold night air bit into her skin as she tore through the streets, the sounds of the city barely registering in her mind.

She had to find Ser Harwin. He would know what to do. He would take her away like he had wanted to. The streets blurred as Daella ran, the cobblestones rough and unforgiving under her bare feet. She didn’t care. She needed to reach the guard tower, to feel safe again. But as she rounded the next corner, she skidded to a halt, her breath catching in her throat.

A group of men blocked her path, their laughter dying as they noticed her. Their eyes raked over her, taking in her disheveled hair, the thin nightdress clinging to her skin, her torn and bloodied feet, and the panic in her eyes. One of them, his face marred by pockmarks and a leering grin, stepped forward, his gaze predatory.

"Well, look what we have here," he drawled, his voice thick with malicious glee. "The gods must be smiling on us tonight, lads."

"And what a pretty little thing she is," another man sneered, his eyes gleaming with a hunger that sent a shiver of pure terror down Daella’s spine. "Just the sight of her is making my cock twitch."

Fear clawed at Daella’s insides as the men began to close in, their intentions clear. She stumbled back, her heart hammering in her chest, her mind racing to find an escape. But there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. She was trapped, and the darkness pressed in around her, suffocating, as she faced the monsters that lurked in the night.

[dumbkiri]

𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐖 𝐁𝐘

𝗕𝗮𝗸𝘂𝗴𝗼 𝗞𝗮𝘁𝘀𝘂𝗸𝗶 𝘅 𝗙𝗲𝗺!𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

This is an AU where all characters are adults and have families!

“I wanna love you for the rest of my life.” 

He declared so lovingly with his hands holding his wife gently. 

The two of them danced under the moonlight and stars with silent looks from the audience surrounding the both of them. Her beautiful white dress swayed side to side as the two of them moved to the slow melody playing in the background. 

She gave him a sweet smile and removed her hand off his shoulder to caress his face. The words she returned to him made his heart flutter, “Forever and always, Katsuki.” 

He leaned forward and kissed her lips for the hundredth time that night. She felt so warm and real in this moment of his dream. He never wanted to leave knowing what awaited him when he awoke, so he remained in her arms for a bit longer. 

He forgot about his real world problems and indulged in this heavenly dream with the love of his life. She gave him everything he ever wanted. Children that were born with incredible quirks and their best features combined. A house that they built together for their growing family. 

But all good things come to an end eventually. 

“Do you miss me, Katsuki?” She looked up at him with a disappointed expression, her [e.color] eyes dulling out. 

He faltered, but replied, “Of course, I do. I miss you every time I look at our children. Katsumi looks more like you, but Hiro has your personality. When he gets mad, the earth beneath his feet cracks.”

He chuckled at the memory of Hiro’s shocked expression, then the seven year old apologizing profusely for the damage done in the dining room before he stomped away. 

“But he was rightfully mad, was he not?” 

Katsuki’s smile morphed into a frown as he returned his sad gaze to his wife knowing what she was talking about, “It was a misunderstanding, [Name].” 

“He saw you kiss another woman, a woman that isn’t his mother,” She responded quickly as she pulled away from him. Her eyes looked down at the floor and she held herself together, he knew she did this when she felt insecure. 

He wanted her not to feel that way. She was his wife, not some-

“I’m missing, not dead.” 

His heart clenched at the reminder of her situation. 

“You stopped looking for me so you could start a new relationship with someone else. Of course, it has to be with our children’s teacher, huh?” 

She looked up at him and her sad glare poked a huge hole into his heart. 

“Just because you stopped looking doesn’t mean Hiro has. He doesn’t understand what happened with that villain. All he knows is that you came home without me. Now two years go by and he sees you kissing his teacher. Wouldn’t his anger be justified because he never lost hope in finding me?” 

Of course, it’s justified. But Camie kissed him, he didn’t initiate it. He couldn’t because all he could think about was his missing wife. All he could think about was how wrong it felt to touch another woman.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and shook his head, “I…I don’t love her, not like I love you.”

Then [Name] inhaled through her nose and said, “But you’re starting to. You don’t need to lie to me and you certainly don’t need to hide this from Hiro. He will understand when you give him time. Don’t let our boy grow up to hate you because you started loving a different woman. Let him understand why you stopped looking for me and why you’re settling for Camie.”

He was settling for Camie as harsh as it sounded, but the truth lied in your sentence. 

“I meant what I said, loving you for the rest of my life,” He took a step toward her with his hands reaching out to her pretty face. 

He held her with a loose grip then he rested his forehead against hers and said, “But our children need a mother. I can’t raise them on my own. Can you forgive me?”

He felt her tears touch his rough hands and he clenched his teeth to hold back his own. He waited for those words, remembering how this dream always ended in heartbreak. But her cruel words never came, instead she gave him a different answer. Not the one his mind usually came up with. 

“Please don’t stop searching for me.”

The way his heart jumped in surprise had him pull back, looking into her [e.color] eyes that had tears pouring down her cheeks like a waterfall. 

She held onto his hands and desperately said, “I’m missing, Katsuki. Don’t lose hope, I need you to keep looking for me. I want to come home.” 

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This answer had been extremely different from the one she always gave him. He can remember word by word why she couldn’t forgive him, but now…she begged him to keep looking for her. 

“[Name], is this- Where are you?” 

The urge to ask that question to her felt strong and she shook her head, “I won’t be able to tell you, but I’m closer than you think. So please, keep looking. I don’t want to be with him anymore. I want to come home to you and our beautiful children.”

Her begging made him feel even more guilty for letting Camie kiss him. Then there was another issue that made his blood boil. She mentioned the villain that took her away. His guilt and his anger never mixed well together, it only made him more emotional seeing his wife so vulnerable. 

Katsuki breathed heavily and pulled her into his strong arms with a kiss planted on the crown of her head. 

She looked up at him through his hold and spoke, but her words could not be heard. Her lips moved, yet no sound entered his ears. He lost his hearing in a crucial moment and like a ripple in the water, she moved away from him. 

…

“Hey, old man, it’s morning already.” 

Katsuki woke up from his dream, hearing the voice of his grumpy 13 year old boy. 

Now Hiro looked like Katsuki, inheriting the spiky blonde hair and sharp eyes, but his eyes were the color of his mother’s. The boy glared at his father when he received no response from the man and said mockingly, “Don’t you have a ‘meeting’ with my teacher? She wouldn’t stop talking about it last week.” 

Katsuki groaned and sat up in the bed, his spiky hair unruly like always. His red eyes focused on his son as he blinked the sleep away. 

“I do, but it’s really just a meeting.” 

“Yeah, sure,” Hiro rolled his eyes and moved away from the door shouting, “Katsumi and I are going out with some friends to the park while you have this meeting. Then we’re going to grandparent’s house for dinner.” 

“It’s not like that, brat!” Katsuki shouted back, gripping the bed sheets tightly as he growled out. 

Then he heard his children getting ready to leave the house with no snappy remark from Hiro. 

He rolled his shoulders and neck feeling the pops in his sore muscles. His eyes roamed the master bedroom and thought back to his dream with his wife. 

She begged him to keep looking for her. 

Yeah, he admitted that he did lose hope in finding her. Two years felt like forever without his sunshine and raising kids that looked and acted like her had been rough on his mental state. 

Nevertheless, he needed to grow up and be a better father to them. They already lost their mother, they can’t afford to lose him too. 

As Katsuki was getting ready for the parent teacher conference about Hiro and Katsumi, he heard his children down the hall speaking amongst themselves. Hiro, as usual, didn’t have the need to quiet down his tone while Katsumi tried her best to get her brother to speak softly. 

“Did you really see dad kiss her?” 

“Of course I did,” Hiro bit back, hurt that his sister doubted him. 

Katsumi quickly replied to Hiro in a hushed whisper, “Whoa, hey! Not so loudly, Hiro~ Dad could be-” 

“Good, he should be listening,” Hiro jabbed then moved on to say, “Dad kissed my teacher. Now all she does is gush about how ‘attractive’ he is to other teachers. You know how awkward it is to walk down the hall while our classmates talk about dad cheating on mom? She’s not dead, Sumi. She’s missing.” 

Katsuki heard Katsumi sigh and sadly say, “Yeah, I know. But you’ve seen how dad is…angry and lonely almost every day. Mom…made him very happy back then, so who cares if he’s looking for companionship to fill that hole in his heart.”

“We should care,” Hiro snapped back, “Our mom is out there suffering with a villain. We’re suffering because we miss her. You and I are coping by relying on each other, dad can do the same.”

“I don’t think so,” Katsumi sighed and said, “He can’t even look at me, probably because I look like mom so much. I haven’t seen him smile at me since her kidnapping. He looks at me with regret and you look at me differently too.” 

“What?” Hiro asked, surprised by his sister’s claim, “No, I don’t.” 

“Don’t lie to me!” Katsumi snapped back, her temper just as bad as Katsuki’s when he was younger. 

Katsuki heard Hiro fumble with his words and shook his head at his son’s response. 

“Well sure, it’s hard to look at you, you literally look like mom! But that doesn’t mean-” 

“You two are the worst! It’s not my fault I look like her!” 

Katsuki heard his daughter storm down the stairs and shut the front door loudly, announcing her departure. Then he heard the frustrated mumbles from Hiro, the boy stomping down the stairs and angrily putting his shoes on. 

“Stupid sister,” Hiro grumbled, grabbing something by the door, “she forgot to put her shoes on.” 

Then his son slammed the front door after himself. 

Katsuki took a deep breath in and thought about his children’s conversation with each other. He didn’t think Camie would talk about their budding relationship to other teachers. Didn’t know their classmates whispered about their family. 

Then there was the situation with Katsumi. 

He hated to admit it, but his daughter spoke the truth. Katsuki hadn’t smiled at her in the last two years, not even over her accomplishments. He couldn’t hold a long conversation with her or lock eyes with her. 

But he heard her stories through his mother. 

Coming to a conclusion on how to fix his relationship with his children, Katsuki pulled his phone from his pocket and messaged his mother:

I will be joining for dinner as well. 

Who invited you? 

Does it matter? 

Just know that I’m coming over. 

Gotta talk to the kids about their mother.

Do not drag me into your mess! 

My grandchildren see me as a trusted guardian.

This is serious, old hag. You’re going to moderate the conversation. 

I’m clearly biased, brat! You kissed Hiro’s teacher while still married!

Did you even think about how [Name] would feel?

She’s missing, not dead.

“I’m missing, not dead.” 

His wife’s words from the dream played back as he read his mother’s message to him. 

Yeah, he knows that. But he can’t help the urge to fill the hole in his heart just like how Hiro can’t help acting out against him. They all have different and unhealthy coping mechanisms. 

Yeah, I did. I’m not going to deny it. But I don’t love Camie, she’s just there. 

He didn’t get an immediate response and he stood at the door waiting as patiently as he could. His foot thumped on the floorboard while his bottom lip was between his teeth. 

Then three message popped up instantly:

If you say one thing that I don’t like… I will kick you out of my house. No one hurts my grandbabies!

He smiled at her response and messaged her: I know.

……

Katsuki ignored the stares he received from other teachers and parents that he passed by in the hall. His hands were tucked into his jacket and clenched up from this unwanted attention. God, he felt small from their judgemental stares. He could hear their stupid whispers and he wanted nothing more to yell at them. 

“Hey, dad,” Katsumi called out to him with her head down, “you don’t have to visit my teacher if you don’t want to. My grades are totally fine compared to Hiro’s and-” 

“Sumi,” Katsuki sighed and looked to his left, barely catching her off guard with her nickname. He also hasn’t addressed her lovingly in two years and he hopes to fix this burned bridge between him and his daughter. 

“Uh…” He trailed off and looked away from her surprised look. She was the spitting image of [Name] back in their grade school years. 

‘Damn it, get it together and stop looking like a damn sad man!’ He yelled at himself mentally. 

After getting his composure back, he walked up to Katsumi’s classroom and stopped at the door. He swallowed the lump in his throat and kneeled down to meet her height. She ignored his intense stare, but he gently guided her face to look at him. 

Carefully he said, “I care about your grades as much as I do for Hiro’s. I know you won the prize at the science fair beating Izuku’s nerdy son. You worked hard to put that broccoli boy in his place and I’m damn proud of you for doing that. And I’m…sorry that…for everything.”

Stupidly, he couldn’t apologize properly to Katsumi. 

Luckily for him, his daughter understood what he wanted to say. She blinked her tears away and jumped at him, hugging him with a sniffle. She wanted nothing more than to have an actual conversation with her dad. Finally he was owning up to his mistakes and this is all she really wanted from him.

“I forgive you, dad,” She moved away then tilted her head, “but it will take Hiro a lot of convincing to do the same. You really, really hurt him.” 

Katsuki slumped and said, “Yeah, I know. But I want to make it up to you guys. I need to talk to you guys about something, but it’ll be with grandma too. She can keep Hiro calm and-”

Katsumi giggled and shook her head, “You really think grandma will be on your side?”

The man huffed out a frustrated sigh and stood up to his full height, “Your grandma asked me the same thing, but I wormed my way through.” He took Katsumi’s hand in his rough one and said, “Alright, let’s get this meeting done with.” 

…

Katsuki knew of Katsumi’s accomplishments through his mother, yes. But everything his daughter ever achieved made him super proud. She led the classes with confidence, competed for the top spot of the class with a ‘friendly rival’ and everyone loved her. 

He didn’t know Katsumi was popular among her classmates, especially since Hiro mentioned whispers of their family. God, he felt so stupid and regretted ever letting it get so far. 

“Katsuki,” Camie’s voice had a hint of adoration in it, “what a pleasant surprise. I wasn’t sure if you had time for teacher conferences.” Her laugh echoed in the classroom and it caught the attention of the hero’s daughter. 

Katsumi squeezed her father’s hand as they walked into Hiro’s classroom. She looked around the room and it looked sort of like her own classroom with Mr. Fujioka. Her red eyes then landed on the woman that gradually captured the attention of her father. 

She was pretty tall and slim. Her short hair was a caramel color and Katsumi couldn’t deny her beauty. Did Ms. Utsushimi have something similar to her mother or was her father interested because the hole her mother left needed to be filled?

“I’m trying to fix my mistakes and be a better father for my children,” Katsuki grumbled out and walked over to the two chairs in front of Camie’s desk. He led Katsumi to one and sat down after his daughter did. 

Then his red eyes met with Camie’s soft colored ones, “Is there anything I can do to help Hiro boost his grades? I know he’s failing some of his classes.”

Camie cleared her throat and sat down at her desk pulling up a file of Hiro’s school work. She pulled out some tests and showed the red marks on most of the questions. Then the teacher licked her lips before she explained, 

“Hiro is smart, much like his sister,” Camie compared Hiro’s old work to his current school work, “He would have been in the same class as Katsumi and Sora this year and last year, but I’m sorry to bring this up as it is a touchy topic. His grades started dropping the moment his mother went missing.”

Katsuki already guessed that. 

“Figures,” He mumbled under his breath and shook his head, “I’ll talk to him about his work. Thank you for this.” 

Katsumi stood up from her chair and watched her dad do the same. 

Quickly Camie followed suit and brushed her hair from her face, “If you really want to help Hiro out, you have to tell him to leave the work to the heroes.”

“Huh?” Katsuki gave Camie a sideways glance then turned his body towards her, “What are you talking about?” 

Camie looked down at a nervous Katsumi then back to the father, “Your kids are actively looking for their mother along with Sora. They’ve been talking about the Market and how they can find her in that group.” 

Oh hell no. His confusion immediately turned into a protective anger. 

Katsuki spun around to question his daughter with an angry scowl on his face, “The hell are you guys doing, huh? Do you know what the Market is capable of?” 

“Dad, we-” 

“They hurt children like you!” Katsuki spat then grabbed Katsumi’s shoulders in a death grip, “The Market is a group of villains that should be left for the heroes to deal with, not a dumb trio like the three of you. Do you understand me, Katsumi?” 

The little girl couldn't look her dad in the eyes, not when he looked so mad. He wasn’t even going to listen to her. 

“Katsumi,” Katsuki growled out and shook her a bit to make her look him in the eyes. Then he crouched down and used one of his hands to force her to do so. 

“They kidnap little girls and little boys with powerful quirks like you and your brother,” His eyes flashed with a dangerous warning, “then those kids are sold to the highest bidder. For months, these bidders do whatever they want to these children before they make them fight one another. The ones that lose a fight are disposed of. Do you want to end up in a ditch like them? Katsumi, I asked you a question!” 

“No!” Katsumi cried, tears shining in her red eyes.

The sight of her tears softened up Katsuki’s flaring rage and he pulled her into a hug. He rubbed his hand up and down her back to soothe her, but she kept on crying. He went too far in scolding her and scaring her, but everything he said about the Market was true. He needed her to recognize the danger in trying to find a group like that. 

Katsuki picked her up into his arms and held her gently, looking over at Camie, “We’re leaving.” 

“O-oh, okay,” Camie whispered back and watched the little girl cry in her dad’s arms. The teacher never saw a sight like that before. But she didn’t blame Katsuki for acting out like that. She’s heard the stories and truly fears for her nosy students. 

Children go missing every day, but a lot have been found dead with wounds from various quirks. She couldn’t imagine any of her students ending up like that. 

She couldn’t imagine how Katsuki would react if one of his children ended up the same way. 

……

Hiro’s head hurt a lot. 

The last thing he could remember is walking to his grandma’s house after Katsumi messaged him saying that the conferences just ended. Now his location remained a mystery to him.

 Fear slowly creeped up his back, but he had to stay focused. Fear blinds all the other senses that could help him out in this situation. 

While sitting up, his body felt extremely tired and worn out. His [e.color] eyes looked around his surroundings, but only darkness covered him. 

“What the hell is going on?” He questioned quietly. 

‘Krttzzz!’

A bright flash blinded him and he blinked his eyes to get used to the light that shone on his body. 

A flatscreen tv hung on the wall with the word ‘Welcome’ appeared on the screen. Then a robotic voice spoke to him through the speakers giving him orders, 

“The drug will wear off in a few moments and once your system returns to normal you will go beyond the door to show off your quirk. If you do not comply, you will be terminated.” 

Hiro pushed himself off the floor and the pain in his head gradually went away while he asked himself a million questions. 

He had been drugged. 

He needed to display his quirk once the door behind him opened. 

If he doesn’t follow this order, he will be…killed?

“My dad said that the survivor from the Market is pretty messed up. Said that the boy used his quirk to kill other kids, kids that the heroes found all over Japan in alleys or abandoned places,” Sora's voice echoed in his head.

The door slid open with a swoosh and Hiro’s shoulders sagged in disbelief, “Oh, fuck me.” 

[iid-smile]

waterfall , tomioka giyuu

x gn!reader ! giyuu using his water breathing, he asks for permission to confess and impress you!

author's note: im having writers block with kny specifically (future sunny: thats a bad excuse btw... i just dont because idk what to write for majority of the characters) so literally everything these days is jjk. justice for kny!!!!

double author's note: hi... future sunny here. this message ^^ yeah, that was FOUR WEEKS AGO now its just laziness rather than writers block... thats why the dialogue has literally no description half the time and i really did not want to finish this

triple author's note: ahaha i bet you've never seen three in a row 😈 anyways i forgot to post this after i proofread it half asleep so here u go

"do you like rivers?"

"mhm."

"what about lakes?"

"i like anything to do with water, tomioka. you don't need to worry so much about what i like."

"i'm not worried." giyuu's gaze turns away from you, like it always does, and he looks straight ahead. "there's just something i want to try."

though slightly wary of his intentions, you know that giyuu isn't the type of guy to put you in situations where he doesn't have your consent first. and quite clearly, it's something to do with water, because he's been awfully chatty about different bodies of water, fishes, and just nature in general. it's difficult to make a guess of what he's planning, because sometimes he can just be so unintentionally unpredictable. and weird. he's a weirdo.

you walk behind him so he's able to lead the way. now that he's gone all quiet again, you can't help but furrow your eyebrows a bit. something he wanted to try? what could he possibly want to try in the middle of the night? let alone in a forest...

finally, he comes to a halt. obviously, you're a bit... confused, being stopped in front of a large, and deep body of water surrounded by rocks.

"hold my hand."

"why?"

as if he knew you were going to ask that, he turns to face you with not a single change in his expression, neatly holding out his hand to you. "i'm going to do something, and i don't want you to slip." something. there's that something again.

your eyes flicker from his hand to his face just a few times, then to the surroundings, looking out for anything odd. he wouldn't be the type to prank you, would he?

"do you not trust me?"

"i do. it's just this something that you mention..."

"don't worry. i won't do anything bad."

would it be bad to say that he immediately soothed your worries? he was already speaking more than he usually would, and you noticed his free hand was always on the handle of his sword, so he's vigilant. no worries at all. you take his hand. it's cold, and unexpectedly smooth. "what are you going to do?"

no answer. he takes a step closer to the edge, just one little tip toe away from the surface of the water. "by any chance.." giyuu remains quiet, head bowed to the water below before his eyes move back up to yours. "do you have a significant other?"

"no..."

"then," for a beat, he looks off to the side, and then turns his head back to you. "can i ask for your permission for me to... attempt to court you?"

"ah, is this why you brought me all the way out here? you have feelings for me?"

"...you found me out."

"you just told me that?"

"i didn't mean to."

the back of your hand comes up to your lips, poorly silencing your giggles. "you're a bit silly sometimes."

no response. "come."

giyuu takes a step down from the rocks, and into the body of water. from above, it was difficult to tell how far down the bottom of the lake was. "my clothes—"

he cuts you off. "don't worry. they won't get wet."

maybe he's telling the truth, since his aren't either. one last time, you look down at your covered feet, a nervous twitch running through them as the chill breeze suddenly became so apparent.

immediately, you're met with dreamlike arches of water and splashes surrounding the two of you, frozen in time and unmoving. for the first time, it feels like you're genuinely seeing his breathing technique visually, the sight similar to a vivid lucid dream. except this... this is way better. right in the climax, streams shoot up into the air, curving and twisting to form a heart in the center, then dispersing just as quick, the drops of rain disappearing into nothing as it touches skin.

it was beautiful, but beautiful wasn't even a word good enough to describe it.

"tomioka—?" but as you turn around, giyuu is nowhere to be seen. "huh? tomioka?"

you look left, and you look right. nobody's around: not a single life in sight. the trees are quiet, only the splashing of the waterfall fills in for the lack of noise around. and when you look down at your feet, you only see your legs submerged in water, all the way up to your knees. your haori steadily soaked up the liquid, the material darkening and growing heavier on your shoulders. "my socks!"

yes, you did have to walk home with wet tabi socks and zori with an uncomfortably damp surface. and yes, you did walk home with a constant flutter in your heart, not even knowing when the next time you'll catch a glimpse of him will be.

[elysiaheaven]

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗼𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂-𝟮𝟯-(The Fox's Wedding)

For this grudge of mine is stronger than anyone else's 

You defilled me so my hatred shall last for eternity 

That doll that dolli refuse to grant forgiveness 

All i feel is endless hatredAll I feel is endless hatred 

Every time I see your face, I can't help but break into a grin 

Hurry up and die already hurry up and die

Hoolay

There's a new character that I created myself he is known as Hoolay's brother for the sake of the story

Words:2167

Mentions of gorey description.., Mental breakdown.

Hoolay's massive form loomed over you as you lay curled up on the floor. The flickering light from the lanterns cast eerie shadows on his twisted face, amplifying his malevolent grin. His voice, cold and mocking, cut through the chaos around you.

"Look at you," Hoolay sneered, his gaze full of contempt. "How pathetic you've become. With all the hate you've amassed, it seems people actually believed the storyline I crafted for you. Their goddess, they called you. But tell me, how did that story end? What did the goddess actually do?"

His words were like daggers, and your heart pounded with fear and anguish. You tried to shrink away, but Hoolay's imposing presence was inescapable. "Get away from me!" you screamed, your voice hoarse with terror.

Ignoring your plea, Hoolay's hand closed around a small, tattered doll that resembled you. His eyes glinted with cruel amusement as he began to crush it with force. The doll's fabric ripped and tore, each sound of its destruction magnifying your despair.

"No! Stop it!" you cried out, your voice breaking as you reached out, trying to protect the doll.

Hoolay's gaze remained locked on you, unyielding. "I'll kill you the same way you killed my brother," he said with cold finality. "To protect those people in the village. That's what you did, isn't it? You took away everything that was dear to me. And now, it's your turn to suffer."

Jiaoqiu's voice cut through the din of chaos, his tone heavy with confusion and concern. "What is he talking about? What's this about killing his brother?"

Hoolay's laughter echoed through the prison, a sound brimming with both derision and malice. "You still don't get it, do you? This pathetic piece of humanity," he gestured toward you with a sneer, "killed my brother to save the village. The story you've been fed is a lie."

Jiaoqiu's eyes narrowed, his mind racing to piece together the disconcerting revelations. "And what about the god Eiji? The one said to have protected the village?"

Hoolay's cruel laughter intensified as he turned his gaze towards Jiaoqiu. "Ah, Eiji. How amusing. In the tale I crafted, the roles were reversed. Eiji was never the protector. No, he was the true betrayer. It was this human," he pointed at you with a mocking smile, "who saved the village."

Jiaoqiu's face shifted from confusion to a grim realization. His eyes darted between you and Hoolay, struggling to comprehend the twisted truth unveiled before him. The implications of Hoolay's words were staggering, and the revelation hit hard—everything they had believed, everything they had been told, was a distorted fabrication.

Hoolay's voice thundered through the chamber, filled with menacing authority. "Move! Walk toward me, or I'll kill both of you right here and now!"

Jiaoqiu's eyes flickered with a mix of anger and concern as he assessed the dire situation. He saw you trembling, caught in the throes of fear and despair. Your shaking form and pained expression struck him deeply, and he knew he had to act swiftly.

With a decisive step, Jiaoqiu approached you, his face set in a determined, yet gentle expression. He reached out and placed his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him. His grip was firm but reassuring, a silent promise of protection amidst the chaos.

"Hold on," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm here."

Gently, he guided you to lay your head on his shoulder. You complied, closing your eyes and allowing the comfort of his presence to wash over you. 

The Shackling Prison had become a chaotic battleground, the clash of steel and cries of pain echoing through the grim halls. The prison guards fought valiantly but fell one by one, unable to withstand the onslaught.

Hoolay's voice roared with dark exhilaration, reverberating through the prison. "A-Rraaa... This brings back such familiar memories! Memories of chasing, gnawing, and tearing... They're back, they're back! They've all come back!"

Mok Tok, ever the schemer, addressed Hoolay with a tone of barely concealed eagerness. "My Lord, we're just one step away from freedom. Once we pass through the gate, no one will be able to stop us."

Hoolay's gaze shifted to you and Jiaoqiu, his cruel grin widening. "So, this hostage is useless now? Kill him, Mok Tok."

Jiaoqiu's eyes burned with determination, despite the overwhelming dread. *He's getting away... Do something, Jiaoqiu... It's just like the old days, you useless loser... Just do something...*

Mok Tok considered the offer, his voice laced with opportunism. "Perhaps this Yaoqing messenger can strike a deal in exchange for his life. He can use his status to help us escape from the Xianzhou. What do you think, Mr. Jiaoqiu?"

Hoolay laughed, the sound echoing with disdain. "Just look at you! Fallen so low during my absence! You're even negotiating with livestock? As far as I recall, no one from the Yaoqing would ever consider a deal with Duran's offspring."

Jiaoqiu, caught between hope and desperation, sought a way to stall Hoolay. *I've got to... make this beast stay here... whether it's for the sake of Feixiao or the Yaoqing...*

"Deal," Jiaoqiu said, forcing himself to sound confident. "I certainly have more value alive... My identity, my knowledge of the Xianzhou, and my understanding of many things that your minions have no knowledge of... They'll all be valuable."

Hoolay's eyes narrowed as he regarded Jiaoqiu. "Lowly beast, muster up that pitiful tongue of yours and plead for what remains of your life. Speak up."

Jiaoqiu took a deep breath, the weight of the situation heavy on his shoulders. "I'm afraid you're unaware, the woman who defeated you, Jingliu... She has recently returned to the Luofu."

Hoolay paused, the name striking a chord. "..."

Mok Tok, eager to move forward, protested. "My Lord! This slave is talking nonsense. I've never heard anything about this! May I just kill him now?"

Hoolay's gaze shifted back to Mok Tok, his tone icy. "Silence, Mok Tok! And you, slave... From now on, you'll stay by my side. You'll only speak and move when I allow you to. Otherwise, I'll dismember you, from head to tail, inch by inch. Got it?"

Mok Tok hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. "But my Lord..."

"We must stay here for some time, Mok Tok. Fear not, because once I step out of the prison, it's the people of the Xianzhou who should tremble in fear. I'll show them what true calamity means." Hoolay's voice was a dark promise.

With a fierce command, Hoolay turned to his followers. "Now, Duran's whelps! Follow me!"

As the Borisin Wolftroopers rallied to Hoolay's side, their howls filled the air. "Prison guards, stop them! For our great lord Hoolay!"

You, shaken and struggling to regain composure, watched as Hoolay approached. His gaze was predatory, eyes gleaming with cruel delight. He leaned in close, his voice a low, mocking whisper. "Ah, look at you, trembling like a cornered animal. So pathetic... The goddess they believed in... what a joke. Tell me, how was the story I wrote for you?"

The haunting words cut through you, sending shivers down your spine. "Get away!" you screamed, desperation bleeding through your voice.

Hoolay's laughter was a sinister echo as he pulled out the doll that resembled you, crushing it with a brutal grip. "You see this? This is what you've become—a broken thing. Just like this doll. And soon, you'll know the same fate I plan for you. I'll kill you the same way you killed my brother to protect those people in the village."

Hoolay's cruel laughter echoed through the chamber as he drew closer to you, the doll in his hand now a symbol of his contempt. His gaze fixed on Jiaoqiu, a smirk twisting his lips. "So, tell me, who is this man to you?" he taunted.

Your heart raced, the weight of Hoolay's gaze unbearable. You looked at Jiaoqiu, the façade of indifference cracking under the pressure. "No one," you said, your voice trembling. You forced a twisted laugh, trying to mask your fear. "He's no one to me."

Hoolay's eyes narrowed with satisfaction. "Mok Tok, end this farce. Kill him."

Mok Tok, caught between duty and hesitation, looked at you with a grim expression. As he raised his weapon, you dropped the pretense. Your voice broke into a desperate cry. "He's my husband! Please, stop! Don't hurt him!"

Tears streamed down your face as you fought against the overwhelming terror. "Stop! Stop!" you screamed, your voice raw with fear and desperation. You reached out toward Jiaoqiu, your heart breaking at the thought of him being harmed.

Jiaoqiu, his face a mask of anguish, tried to hold you close, offering comfort despite the chaos. But you pushed him away, your eyes filled with terror. "Go away! You'll die if you stay with me! I can't let you die because of me!"

You turned your pleading eyes back to Hoolay, desperation flooding your voice. "Kill me! But leave Jiaoqiu alone!"

Hoolay's grin widened, savoring your torment. "Come closer. I want you to see how your demise unfolds in front of him. I'll kill you just as you killed my brother—right in front of your precious husband."

The horror of the situation overwhelmed you as Hoolay's words cut deeper than any weapon. You clung to Jiaoqiu's memory of comfort, the fear of losing him unbearable. Your pleas became increasingly frantic, the fight for survival fading into a desperate hope that Hoolay might show mercy.

Jiaoqiu, trying to maintain his composure, gripped you tightly. "I won't leave you. Not now. We'll find a way out of this."

But your cries and Hoolay's chilling laughter filled the air, the reality of the situation sinking in. The chamber was a whirlwind of chaos and despair, the future uncertain as the clash of wills continued.

The cold, iron bars slammed shut, trapping you and Jiaoqiu in the dark, suffocating cell. The sound of the lock clicking into place sent a wave of dread crashing over you, and you screamed at Hoolay, your voice hoarse with desperation. "Leave him alone! Hoolay, leave Jiaoqiu alone, please!" You gripped the bars, your knuckles white, your body shaking uncontrollably as you watched the monster smirk, feeding off your terror.

Hoolay chuckled darkly, his eyes gleaming with malice as he held the cursed doll in his hand. "Whenever it walks... it will feel the shards of a thousand mirrors," he whispered to the doll. His words dripped with venom as his gaze shifted to you, his voice echoing in your mind. "That's you."

Suddenly, an unbearable pain shot through your feet as if you were stepping on shards of broken glass. You let out a blood-curdling scream and collapsed to the ground, clutching your feet. Every time you tried to stand, the sharp, searing sensation returned, as if the shards were embedded deep in your skin, cutting with every movement.

"Stop it! Stop it!" you cried, tears streaming down your face. You felt helpless, the agony overwhelming you. Jiaoqiu knelt beside you, his face filled with panic and sorrow. "I'm here, Y/N. Let me help you," he begged, trying to pull you into his arms.

But you screamed again, pushing him away, terrified that Hoolay would target him next. "No! Get away from me!" you wailed, your voice breaking. "If you come close, he'll kill you! Please, Jiaoqiu, just... stay away!"

Your hands shook as you pounded at the ground, the pain from the imagined glass unbearable. You sobbed, feeling as if your mind was unraveling, the darkness creeping further in with each passing moment. "You have to act like you hate me, Jiaoqiu," you whispered through choked sobs, your breath ragged. "Pretend... hate me... he won't hurt you if he thinks you hate me."

Jiaoqiu's face crumpled with anguish. He couldn't do it. He couldn't say those words, couldn't bear the thought of pretending to despise the one person he was desperate to protect. "I can't, Y/N," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I can't hate you. I won't lie like that. Please, stop this!"

You screamed in frustration, the pain, the fear, the guilt—everything crashing down on you at once. You began beating yourself, your fists slamming into your chest, your legs, anything to try and drown out the emotional torment with physical pain. "Stop! Stop it!" you cried, the sound of your own voice becoming unbearable.

Jiaoqiu grabbed your wrists, trying to stop you from hurting yourself further. "Y/N, please, don't do this! It's not your fault!" His voice cracked with desperation as he pulled you close despite your protests. You struggled against him, screaming, but he refused to let go, his grip strong but gentle.

"I won't let him win," he whispered fiercely. "I don't care what he does to me. I'm not leaving you."

[chirpsythismorning]

Personally, I've never said that Will would be the only main character anyway. I just think that it makes more sense for him to be centered now because there is a lot of stuff that has to be addressed regarding his character. That does not mean I think Mike cannot get targeted whatsoever. But Will's plot points would get more focus because still do not know:

1- Why he was specifically targeted by Vecna in S1, and why was he specifically kept alive. Is it because he has powers or is there any other reason? 2- Why did he get possessed, and why wasn't he killed again. 3- The way he is still connected to Vecna, has to be addressed because it is ongoing since S1. 4- The obvious parallels between Vecna and Will have to be addressed, 5- Will's whole S1 and S2 have to be addressed. 6- Why is the UD stuck on the time Will went missing specifically. 7- If Will has powers, it it why he got targeted, and probably is that why the UD looks the way it looks, etc.

So it makes more sense for Will to get targeted narratively to address these narrative and plot points. That's not saying Mike cannot get targeted, but it is rather saying that he probably will not be the first person to get targeted rolling to S5's beginning.

Yeah honestly I'm in agreement with that, when it comes to Vecna, we can presume the only reason he would even target Mike is to get to Will.

Though, we've also seen that he's calculated.

Every action he does, he is thinking ten steps ahead.

Yes it's about getting to Will, but that doesn't mean that all it takes is targeting Will and that's that.

They didn't need to 'waste' their time having Vecna confronting random teenagers with trauma, specifically with Max and then Nancy?? But they did. Because Vecna has his own arcs with all these other characters that are merely pieces in his little game, with all the trauma he's caused them. And it all ties into what he wants in the end.

Vecna confronting Mike in the final season, after keeping the audience in the dark for so long about his inner feelings, is a writers dream, because it's a little too perfect.

This is a TV show, which means certain things have to happen to make the story interesting and engaging and exciting. And that's why a lot of fans predict Mike will be targeted. Because why if Will is what Vecna wanted this whole time and that's all there is to it, couldn't he just go for it and get it over with?

Because this is a story and those sorts of things take time to build up to, and it wouldn't be very interesting if it was all resolved right from the jump.

In the moment, Vecna's choices might feel random, but in the grand scheme of things, we're starting to see it's all for a greater reason?

S5 is going to have ups and downs, and I think Will being targeted by Vecna in some capacity is inevitable and it's bound to happen multiple times in s5. Though I also think some other confrontations are due. And if Max was worth targeting because of her guilt over Billy and Nancy because of her guilt over Barb (both involving Vecna himself), then yes I do think it makes sense for Mike, the og protagonist, who has guilt tied to the other two og mains, Will and El, also tied to Vecna, to have some sort of confrontation with him.

I don't think it will start and end with Mike interacting with Vecna though, by no means is this the biggest plot point to s5, because I do think it all goes back to Will regardless of the different things that happen along the way leading up to that confrontation.

However I do think it will be one of the major plot twists for the overall audience because it is super unexpected.

And I do think it makes more sense for them to save the biggest confrontation for Vecna and Will for the end of s5, because if they did it in the beginning it would feel sort of anticlimactic to repeat it in the end.

And so, what makes more sense is to yet again create the semplence of a confrontation between Vecna and Will, maybe even go there, but still not fully go there... And a confrontation with Vecna, potentially involving Mike, obviously affecting Will feels like a way to surprise an audience who is only expecting the Will part, and to also have that impact Will's character in a way that is going to make his confrontation in the end feel even more anticipating, despite it being entirely expected by the majority!

[zosanbrainrot]

part 06!! and the end of Act 1

01 02 03 04 05 06

OK SO THAT'S THAT

I don't have anything else storyboarded right now, I have the dialogues for Act 3 written down, but for the 2nd Act I'm gonna have to rewatch parts of WCI. I'm also thinking of a different approach, more like a series of illustrations not a comic, but idk yet, I'll have to rewatch and see!

It's not like I'm actually using a 3 Act structure as in 'a method of writing a story', I don't know how to and I haven't tried learning that (YET). I just think its neat and reflects how I divided my artistic process. I've always seen this story in my head as 3 parts.

And before I delve into part 06, I can't stop myself from saying that....... part 05 really needed another closeup on Sanji's face. If I ever try and repost it to another site then maybe I'll add it (between the panels of Ichiji & Zoro and the closeup on the spear, it would help the rythym but also strengthen the emotional connection, before Sanji shuts himself off)

Anyhow part 06

Most panels were a breeze, but the last two, my god, I just couldn't get them right for the longest time. In the end my favourite panels are the closeups of Luffy and Nami, I should really draw them more.

Here's how this panel in particular went:

I did like how the pose was looking in my first rough pass, the face is scrunched, the shoulders are high with tension, the direction is consistent

Couldn't execute it though... I think in the first rough sketch the camera is looking at Luffy slightly from above? Like he's leaning into it. That's why the shoulders can be so high up, but I didn't realize what it was when trying to clean it. So when cleaning the sketch I drew the head on the same level as the camera which made the whole pose look flat, also in this weird angle, like it's not fully 3/4, but it's not facing forwards either.

I didn't know what wasn't working, so I doubled down and tried with the lineart, but it didn't magically help. It just looks like he's slouching.

4. so I tried to rethink the pose and commit to a 3/4 view. I like that more of the neck is visible now, you can feel that he's leaning forward with the scream, but I think I could have pushed it a bit more still

5. with linework I made some small changes, like a bit shorter hair, smaller nose and the eyes pushed back a bit. I also added the scratches and filled in the black parts

6. added flat colors & shading!

Last panel with Sanji was even harder to draw hehe

so I thought this would be easy bcs I wanted to basically redraw the panel from the anime

that's why my rough sketch was extremely rough, I didn't think about it much

and then I had so much trouble with it lmao You'd think that it would be easier when you're covering the character's face, but I was in this undecided space of on one hand wanting to show the pain on Sanji's face and staying truthful to the anime scene on the other. I also found it super diffucult to show the emotions without the eyes

4. The pose in 3. also wasn't working so I tried to make him more slouched, like he's curling in on himself more, it was definitely a better direction. I tried going into lineart from here but I didn't like how the fingers were turning out

5. So I decided to get a new ref and took a picture of how I'd make this gesture myself. With this pose I also changed the position and angle of the face slightly, bcs it would have created a very small space between the hand and the nose and I wanted the two shapes to connect

6. I really liked the hand, but was having trouble with the hair, it felt too short, still couldn't get the face right either

7. so I elongated the hair and worked on the face some more and was finally happy with what I had!

8. added colors! At first I had it colored like the other panels, color just on Sanji then gradient on the bottom helping it fade to black, but it wasn't sitting well with me. Maybe because the space above his head was too big and I didn't want to have a background here and also wasn't adding the little floating pieces to the carriage scene (these were reserved for the grass battlefield)

9. SO! I made Sanji's figure darker and also added a darker shade to the whole scene and I think it ended up working really nice. Like he's drowning in the darkness, the only element piercing through it are Luffy's words. It also just fills up the space better lmao, feels less empty visually

Its gonna be A WHILE, before I have updates for this, I'm gonna have to start with the rewatch anyway. Right now I'm gonna have to focus on finishing my extra pieces for the @rdtriozine !! If any of you read this far you may as well check it out lmao I have a full illustration spread there and gonna have spots for a fic too ❤️ I just need to draw them!!! AGHHHH

[pseudowho]

Bedlocked

On a University city trip, someone's got to share a hotel room with Nanami Kento, the class's misunderstood loner...and it's going to be you.

Warnings: College AU! Nanami Kento x Reader, double loss of virginity, "just one bed", heavy make-out, PIV creampie, dry humping, fingering, handjob, both reader and Nanami aged 19

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Nanami Kento wore the awkward bearing of a young man who was surprised by the man he was growing to be. Being uniquely in possession of those excellent traits which were overlooked by girls, but adored by women, he had outgrown himself, from personality to hair, and was unsure how to wear it. Not yet having grown the confidence to lean into his character, and own it, he had been written off by the girls in your class as sullen, boring, miserable-- a downer.

All the girls, that is, except for you. And this was how you found yourself to be sharing a hotel room with Kento, on your thesis research trip to Kyoto.

"--made a mistake with the bookings, we're several rooms short--"

'--well we can share a bed, that's fine, but I'm not sharing with him--"

"--I dunno...I don't think he'd try anything, I just...want to have fun, that's all, and he's a bit..."

You scoffed, pinching the bridge of your nose as the other young women spoke amongst themselves. Kento had not arrived, and yet, was the talk of the group. As the only young man in the class, he had maintained a respectful, professional distance from the young women in it. It had earned him what you thought was a rather undeserved reputation.

Where the others saw uptight, you saw diligence. Where they saw boring, you saw reserved. Where others saw sarcastic, you saw hilarious. Where they saw grumpy, you saw rage against the machine.

In truth, you had long-since harboured an obsession with Kento. His hushed intensity was magnetic, and carried a mass you longed to draw you in. While others saw you as opposites, you saw yourself and Kento as each others' perfect foil. Matching puzzle pieces. Each others' missing ingredient.

And, god, you ached for him, alone at night with your hand drifting downwards. And you would not let him be treated like a leper.

"For goodness' sake, I'll share with Kento." You piped up, seeing the other girls all look round at you. Their eyes drifted, widening in surprise at something behind you, and you did not hear the hotel lobby door swing open and closed outside of your view. "In fact, I'd be delighted to share with him. I'm sure he'll be just as funny and respectful as he always is."

"You think I'm funny."

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the question framed as a statement, and spun round to face Kento...but not as you knew him. You stuttered.

"Oh, wow, Kento...your hair..."

Gone was the sloppy, loping fringe. Instead, Kento's honey-blond hair was neatly parted, undercut, framing his face. All of a sudden, he was so...handsome. Kento glowered down at you, impassive and unreadable. He gave one baleful hum at your assessment of him.

"I assume something happened with the room bookings, then. For you to wind up stuck with me." Before you could answer, Kento pulled his phone out of his pocket, turning back to the doorway with one enormous hand grasping his suitcase handle. "You shouldn't have to make a decision to your detriment. It's not your fault. I'll find somewhere else to sta--"

Kento was interrupted, by your hand clasping over his on his suitcase handle. A grunt of surprise left his lips, at the feel of your dainty hand on his. He looked down at them, his expression always somewhere between anger and irritation. You knew better.

"Stay with me. We...get along well. We always have." Kento scowled, his eyes flickering behind you to the other girls, who, while surprised by how a simple haircut could alter Kento so, were sticking to their guns.

"I don't need your pity." Kento sniped, his voice low and earthy, "I'm perfectly happy to le--"

"And I'm perfectly happy to share. Stop being so headstrong and listen to me."

Kento bristled, looking torn between argument and agreement. As the others collected their keys, filing off to their respective rooms, you awaited his decision. With a huff, Kento fetched your room key, and headed off down the corridor. You fizzed with excitement at the prospect of spending more time with him, and suppressed it, following him with an air of assumed solemnity.

The airs and graces were soon dropped, when the door to your room swung shut behind you and Kento, and you found it to have--

"...just one bed. Shit." Kento's face twisted in discomfort, his Adams apple bobbing deliciously as he swallowed. His eyes trailed down to you, and caught your blush as if it were contagious. He turned to grasp the door handle again, stuttering, so unlike himself.

"Couldn't possibly-- absolutely not appropriate-- my mistake entirely-- find somewhere else--"

"Will you? Find somewhere else, I mean?" Kento faltered, his grip on the door handle loosening. He looked at you with something akin to dread. "On cherry blossom week? In historic Kyoto?" By the time you were finished talking, Kento had deflated like a sad party animal.

Night had long since fallen. You heard the laughter, baths and showers running, from the girls in the adjacent rooms. Your confidence was a total mask, as you opened your suitcase, rummaging inside for pyjamas. Your heart pounded in your chest, made all the worse by Kento's silent, tortured appraisal of you. You realised, with a jolt, that you had brought nothing but an oversized t-shirt and underwear to wear to bed.

Beneath his eyes, you were transparent. He felt the tension roll off you in waves. Kento cleared his throat, his ears red, a youthful flush across his nose.

"I'll-- I'll go shower." He offered, considering trying to drown himself. He heard you hum, speaking absentmindedly.

"Go on. Smelly boy." You had barely registered what you said, hearing something like a laugh from Kento as he swung the bathroom door closed behind him. You threw yourself face down on the bed, muffling your cries of anguish into a pillow. Kento leaned against the shower wall as water tumbled down his back, trying not to think with his cock, and failing miserably, cursing his body for its feral stupidity.

You remained face down on the bed. Trying to think unsexy thoughts was murder. You had always wondered how Kento looked, long and tight beneath old band t-shirts. You'd had the briefest glimpse of his abs and happy trail once, when he reached above you to switch the projector on in class. How you had restrained yourself from leaning in and licking the soft skin of his navel was beyond you. The thought of the noise he would have made, alone, had kept you going for weeks. The way you caught him looking at you in class the next day, took you the rest of the way.

"Shower's free." You sat bolt upright, your brain short-circuiting to see Kento stood at the bathroom door in nothing but pyjama trousers, steam billowing out across broad shoulders and swept back hair. You forced your mask back into place.

"Thought you'd died in there." You offered, not as casual as you sounded. You fumbled your shower bag and pyjamas out of your bag, and made your way to the bathroom. You and Kento danced awkwardly, trying to skirt round each other. With a grunt of irritation, Kento grasped your upper arms, moving you effortlessly around him into the bathroom. His touch was scalding. You wouldn't possibly make it through the weekend.

By the time you headed out of the shower, tugging at your t-shirt to make it cover more of your thighs, you blushed to your toes to see Kento sat up in bed, bare chested and reading. He read the same sentence over, and over, and over, trying with broken determination not to track his eyes up your legs, and imagine how you tasted between them. Feeling you hurriedly slip into bed beside him made his cock jump, and he reached out with a fumbling hand, switching off the light without warning.

Only the faint bathroom light illuminated the room. You both lay, backs to each other, on opposite sides of the bed. The silence grew oppressively heavy. You felt lightheaded, barely breathing, hyperaware of every noise and movement your bodies made. You were paralysed by thoughts of his honey-rich voice, his lightly freckled shoulders itching to be touched, how it would feel to be trapped beneath him while he fell apart above you.

"I'm sorry." You blinked, hearing Kento's apologetic rumble.

"...what are you sorry for?"

"This...this situation. I know I'm no fun to be around. And I've made my peace with that. But you--"

"You are fun. Very fun. I'm...not going to punish you for being an introvert."

Kento was quiet on his side of the bed, but no more relaxed. You had gathered the guts to reach one hand across the sheets to him, before he threw the covers aside, and moved to sit up.

"You need your own space. I'll sleep on the sofa." The 'sofa' sat at the end of the bed, barely more than a loveseat, and you snatched a hand out, grabbing Kento round the bicep. You almost shivered at the hard cords of muscle there, thicker than your hand by far, barely grasping on as Kento tensed.

"No. You're taller than me. I'll sleep on the sofa--"

"--absolutely not--"

"--stop being such a fucking gentleman and let me--"

"--I'm not a gentleman, it's just basic manners--"

"--listen, I feel fine, just come and share--"

"--offer some mad girl a bed and suddenly you're a gentleman--"

"Kento, please just come to bed with me."

Kento's brain stuttered, now. He rolled to face you, his whole body on fire, trying to sound calm. He was an open book, to you. You felt every nerve ending of your skin put to the flame.

"...come to bed...with you?" You moved to roll away and cover your face with your hands, indescribably mortified. Kento couldn't allow it-- not when he'd daydreamed about this for so long. He grasped your hands, rolling you back over to face him. He looked awkward, not used to his own strength, as you flipped back over with a squeak, and a weak apology from Kento. You had never noticed the beautiful whiskey depths of his eyes, before.

You were lost for words. The tables had turned so suddenly, you had no idea on which side you sat. Kento scoffed, a faint blush on his high cheekbones, scowling into a corner of the room. The silence thickened again. Kento huffed a laugh.

"Go to sleep. I'll...I'll just play some games for a while." He did not want to. He wanted to flip you over again, to hear that squeak again, wondering if you'd squeak or moan when he pressed his weeping length into your--

"Oh...what games did you bring?" Your eyes lit up, sparkling, sitting up in bed with a bounce. Kento melted. He wanted to put you in his pocket. He could manage the urges, but the affection overwhelmed him and he stuttered, fumbling for words.

"Because..." Kento waited on bated breath, your lips plush and parted, crawling just-so towards him on the bed, seeing how your breasts shifted between your arms beneath that fucking t-shirt and maybe she would want this too fuck we wouldn't come out all weekend once we've tasted each other fuck if she were my girlfriend she'd be my whole world wouldn't ask for anything else ever again--

"...because I'm desperate for a Gengar actually but I haven't got anyone to trade my Haunter with and--"

"Oh. I need a Golem."

"Oh."

"Nice."

You both rummaged in your bags, grabbing your GameBoys, and you swore, trying to find the cable to connect them. Kento raised his eyebrows, scooting himself back beside you in bed, and crossing his long legs.

"Really? You brought one? Who did you think was gonna trade with you, one of them out there--"

"I'll be honest, I was relying on you, Kento, like I always do." Kento's ears reddened. He moved to sweep back the fringe he no longer had. Instead, his long fingers swept back through his neat parting, mussing commas of blond over his forehead, in a way that made you want to do the same until his hair was a mess and he was groaning.

You sat shoulder to shoulder, comparing Pokémon teams. Kento favoured Steel and Fighting types in a balanced, well-prepared team with no weak links. You favoured Ghost types and anything cute, in a weird mismatched set-up that surprised your enemies. With your short cable connecting your GameBoys, you sat thigh to thigh. You hadn't noticed your toes scrunching against Kento's, foot, stroking your skin against his. You felt him shiver and tense.

"What-- what are you doing?" Kento asked, his voice catching in his throat. His chest felt tight. His whole being zeroed in on where your skin stroked his. You caught yourself, and curled your toes away, to Kento's disappointment. "It-- it's okay...you don't have to stop." Your games were ignored now, defunct in distracted hands.

You swallowed, the air thick with tension around you. He was so close, you could smell the residue of his cologne, and the natural masculine smell of him, earthy beneath freshly washed skin. The side of your breast, bare beneath your t-shirt, rested against his bicep. You felt his bicep clench, grazing your nipple. He felt the pebbled snag of your nipple against his arm. He knew he'd combust if he didn't feel your skin on his soon; knew his fragile resolve was breaking.

Your foot cautiously stretched back down, the sensitive skin of your toes stroking against the top of Kento's foot. You felt him shiver again, putting his GameBoy down with a grunt, his eyebrows drawn together with am arm over his eyes.

"Do you...like it when I touch you?"

Kento grumbled under his breath, his mouth twisted in faint derision. "Don't be cruel." You blushed, reaching out for his hand. Kento tangled his fingers in yours, pressing the back of your hand to his twitching thigh, and trailing featherlight fingertips over your palm and inner wrist, an erogenous zone you never knew you had until he elicited a shudder from you.

"See." Kento whispered, lightly stroking the spot on your inner arm that connected curiously to your clit and nipples, a fine gold thread of liquid arousal. "You like it, too. So if you don't mean anything by this, just stop. Don't...don't play games with me." He took his fingers away, and you almost whimpered, chasing his touch, begging.

"No, Kento, wait-- please...don't stop."

Kento short-circuited. He had never been so close to the fabled pleasure of anothers' body. Pornography had little impact for one without the flesh-memory of erotic touch. Kento's cock was thick, now, throbbing. You dropped your head to his shoulder, sighing with bliss as his trembling fingers resumed their butterfly kisses to your wrist. The growing tent in his pyjamas, and the way he spread his thighs aside to accommodate his erection, made your mouth water.

Kento shifted, his body moving on instinct, until he was tentatively leaning over you. He wanted to watch your face as he stroked your wrist, examining its fine little tendons and veins, and examining how you arched, your mouth parted, your t-shirt rucking up until he could see the warm squidge of your belly above your underwear. His voice was husky, thoughtful.

"You'd...you'd stop me, right? If you didn't want this?"

"Yeah, I...yeah. But I-- I don't want you to. I want m--"

Kenti bowed his head to drink the unfinished words off your lips, knowing you wanted more just as much as he did. He grunted against the taste of you, his lips shuddering and uncertain, only hoping his sincerity came through. Kissing him back hard, your lips and tongues clashed, both instinctual, hungry, tasting. You and Kento spurred each other on, your mutual desperation rising exponentially with each nip of the lips, each tongue thrust into each others' mouth, each moan snatched and devoured between kisses.

Your hands sunk into each others' hair, ruffling, teasing, pulling, and you whimpered into Kento's mouth at the massage of his fingertips over your scalp. You were drunk. You had to be drunk, so high off the spontaneity of a moment you thought would be planned to a T.

Kento's mouth wandered, pressing and sucking sharp little lovebites into you on his way down your neck. You had ended up tangled around him, beneath him, the tip of his cock almost escaping beneath his waistband. Riding on buckish young urgency, Kento's broad hand had risen to grope your breast, possessive, trembling against the urge to squeeze you too hard. When you whimpered, arching into his touch, his mind flew back to him, shocked and ashamed by his stunning lack of self-control.

"Sorry," Kento gasped, his mouth and hand flying off you as if burnt, "fuck, sorry, 'msosorry--"

He broke off at the sight of you. Strewn, your hair scrunched against the pillow, with love-swollen lips and roses blooming on your neck, you were serene; for him. Thrown like petals onto the sheets, all for him and his mouth and his hands. Kento felt the fog descend again, dampening his judgement, for the instinctual urge to fuck.

"Have you...have you ever..." You felt Kento's meaning. His voice was rough, deep as the valley, and hewn with stone. You shook your head, still supple and dopey from his attentions. Kento's held breath released in one husky groan. He swallowed, shaking his head down at you.

"No, I...me neither. Always wondered, always--" Always what? Always daydreamed about it almost constantly? Always chastised himself for being such a fucking animal? But, the look in your eyes as you drank him in. Kento and you met on that clouded bridge, in the middle. Your pussy ached with promise.

Kento's hand came to settle slowly on your breast again, delighted by the way you pressed into him. His fingers grazed down over your nipple, reaching the hem of your shirt, brushing upwards.

"I can...can I? Please?"

"Please. Please, yes please, god."

"Fuck...I can't...cant believe it-- finally--" Kento didn't seem to realise he was moaning his inner thoughts aloud, rucking your t-shirt up like unwrapping a gift. As your breast freed, Kento shuddered again, slanted brown eyes scrutinising your body with analytical intent, committing you to memory.

His hand ghosted over your tummy, tracing dimples and stretch marks on the way, before curling around your breast, giving the gentlest of squeezes. The noise that left his mouth was somewhere between a cough and a moan. Still possessed by a haze of need, his mouth dipped down, tongue flicking out over your nipple, before capturing it with his mouth as you arched again, keening. He pressed into your arch, one arm planted above your head, the opposite hand rolling your other breast between keen fingers.

He couldn't help but rock the straining underside of his cock against your barely-covered pussy. The material between you was so thin, you could feel the whole length of him, and the tapering shape of his bulbous tip as it snagged against your clit. Kento knew he'd cum like this, if he wasn't careful, and shivered at the idea of spilling his seed all over your belly. He brushed away his hurrying peak, so determined was he that you'd cum before him.

"--keep--keep doing that...Kentoooo--oooh, feels so good--"

A rush of competitive pride burned through him. He couldn't help but murmur against your spit-slick nipple, nuzzling it with his nose.

"Keep telling me...what feels good. Make sure I'm not selfish, 'cos I--I'll just take if you don't--"

Suddenly hyperaware of your own body and how you must look, dopey and blissful as you chased pleasure by rutting his length between your legs, you stopped, and Kento huffed.

"I can hear you--thinking you look stupid-- and you don't--" He scowled down at you, his voice hoarse and strained between heavy grunts of ecstasy. "Will you cum? Like...like that?" Kento nodded down towards where you had been rolling your pussy against him. You tried to pull an arm over your eyes, blushing, extraordinarily embarrassed. Kento tangled his fingers in yours, pressing them over your head.

"Hey-- hey-- listen, I'll...I'll let you see me cum...if you let me see you. Please." You swallowed, mouth watering at the thought of watching Kento break, such sincere fascination trickling down your spine.

"...okay." You answered, uncharacteristically meek. Kento huffed another laugh.

"Good girl." You blushed from hairline to toes, involuntarily bucking up against Kento with his words. He began to rut against you again, the friction good but not quite right, not as good as it could be. You threw caution to the wind.

"Hang-- hang on, I'll just..." You reached a hand down beneath your panties, parting your labia just enough for Kento's heavy length to snag harder against your clit.

Kento's eyes zeroed in on the creamy white discharge on your fingers as you pulled your hand out, and when he continued his motions, you fell supple and needy beneath him again, groaning with the pleasure of his bulbous tip and the ridge beneath it, catching your clit. Pleasure bloomed through you, so much closer to orgasm than you had thought.

"--don't stop--" You begged, arching up towards Kento until he fucked down harder with a broken growl, his own need to cum eclipsed by your pleasure. Drawing one nipple deeper into his mouth, and lubricating the other with his spit to roll it fluidly between his fingers, Kento learned fast, playing you like an instrument until your mouth gaped in a silent cry, your first orgasm received from another, roaring through you in waves.

Kento kept humping against you, not recognising that you had reached your peak. He faltered, hips stuttering and panting as you groaned, squirming and writhing, groping at him with desperate, fucked-out hands. Kento was obsessed, a spurt of pre-cum adding to the slick he'd already made between your legs. Utterly besotted, his slim eyes wide with blown pupils, he shakily raised one hand to stroke your hair, kissing your forehead through the bliss, shushing you with whispered praise.

"--so cute...look so pretty...thank you-- thank you--"

As you came down from your high, you heard him thanking you, and laughed, trying to cover your face as he batted your hands away, playful and smirking. Biting your lip, emboldened by post-nut confidence, you slid your hand down to grip Kento's clothed, pulsing cock. He stilled above you with a grunt, looking so angry again as that feral, desperate haze descended. You begged him, hushed and soft.

"Can I...feel it?" Kento's thoughts burst with single-minded relief. He nodded, breath catching in his chest, allowing you to roll him over onto the bed until you were lying on your side beside him. You stroked his clothed length, fascinated, watching every reaction with cruel innocence.

Unsure how to handle him, you faltered as your hand began to slip inside his pyjamas. Kento had one arm slung over his face, still scowling, wanting desperately to watch you play with his cock, but too self-conscious.

"Here, I'll--" Kento reached down, shucking his pyjamas down until his cock released. Kento seemed embarrassed by his size, distinctly bigger than average, and thick, his pink tip peeking out from beneath his foreskin. Mistaking the cause of your silence for disgust, Kento grimaced behind his forearm, apologising.

"--shit, 'msorry, I know I-I'm--"

"...wow." Your breathless little gasp, followed by your hand immediately circling round Kento's cock, sent his mind blank again, watching you with dumb adoration as you examined the weight of his cock in your hand. Your hand gripped him, stroking from ball to tip with an inexperienced squeeze that had Kento grunting, gasping and bucking beneath you. It didn't matter that you had clearly never handled an erection in your life; for Kento, who had never been stroked by a woman looking at his cock and face with hungry, adoring eyes, he was being rushed towards a toe-curling orgasm.

"--st--sta--stopstopstop, m'gonna cu--m'gonna cum--'m gonna--"

Your hand stopped immediately, and Kento snarled, before gasping, momentarily shocked by his visceral reaction to being teased just to the edge of completion. Your pupils dilated, obscenely aroused by the strange danger of a furiously needy man about to cum in your hand. You were lost in the tease, lowering your head and maintaining eye contact as you threatened your lips just over the tip of Kento's cock.

"...stop?"

Kento was glazed, eyebrows tilted, looking uncharacteristically concerned, darting between your mouth, and your eyes, and back again. His nose flared with hot little pants. A barely perceptible shake of the head. You smiled, laying the flat of your tongue against the tip of Kento's cock, and licking over the bulbous head with an incoordinate pump of his length.

Kento's moan rumbled from his chest outwards, muffled as he bit into his own arm, his mind blown by the wet little sucks of his cockhead that he'd imagined only in his wettest dreams. He hurtled with breakneck speed towards his peak, finishing with frantic bucks and begs.

"--oh my--fucking g-god--huuugh fuckfuckfuck sorry m'sorry--shit--"

Kento came with an uncontrollable roar of pleasure, both arms gripping the pillow beneath his head, biceps straining, balls clenching. You pulled free of his cock with a wet pop and a little cry of surprise, when the first spurt of cum salted your tongue.

You continued to stroke him, obsessed with the jerk of him in your hand, the way he groaned, low and long, with each stripe of thick, white seed up his belly. It was only after the twitches had ceased, his cock sluggish against his belly, that Kento began to gasp like a fish out of water and gripped his hand around yours.

"--sto--sta--stop...fuck...so...sogood sosogood..."

The words left your mouth before you even thought to stop them, a years old masturbatory kink suddenly within reach. "Can you cum like that inside me?"

Kento stared at you in mute shock, his neat new haircut mussed beyond repair. His post-cum brain struggled to process your request. You frantically babbled to reassure him.

"--I--I mean no condom--and hear me out hear me out-- I've got good protection-- and and I've never and you've never so we won't catch anything--"

Kento was above you, flipping you onto your back and suckling at your neck again within seconds. You heard his oddly grown-man chastisement into your neck, while his body moved in the total opposite direction.

"So fucking irresponsible-- just just "oooooh cum inside me Kento" just like that, fuck-- do you think I'm--I'm fucking stupid? Sh...shit...fucking yes please I can't believe I'm doing this--"

Kento's cock had barely softened, graced by the barely-there refractory period of youth. He was thick, heavy, and dragging down your belly. You were just as frantic as him, kicking off your underwear and watching Kento hyperfocus again; this time, on your bare sex, right before his eyes.

He knelt back, gripping himself in his fist as if holding himself back. Feeling his sharp eyes penetrate you, you moved to close your legs. Kento looked at you as if you were mad, batting your thighs aside with his knees as you covered your face, mortified.

"Beautiful." He berated, rubbing his fingers through the cum spattered on his belly, and sinking them down to glide cautiously between your labia. You gasped, squirming, and Kento watched his fingers coat with your slick with a gulp, feeling a fresh burst of blood engorge his cock until he ached.

He leaned to his bag, rummaging and cursing, before coming back up with a bottle of lube. You shot Kento a look and he shot you a look in return, berating you again with a voice stricter than fitting for his age; "I was expecting a room of my own."

"Oh yeah? How's that working out for you?"

"Very well actually-- stop laughing or I'll--"

"...you'll what? Make me?" You asked, coy. Kento let out a strangled little groan, and pinched the bridge of his nose as you laughed.

"...don't even...dont even know what you're asking...idiot--" Kento huffed as you drew a crooked smile out of him, your joyful muffled giggles a natural balm to his baseline rage. You stilled again, breathless as you watched him stroke his pulsing cock, your throat dry with voyeuristic anticipation. Kento panted, beyond embarrassment and hanging on by a thread.

Kento stroked some lube between your puffy folds, eyes heavy as you squirmed, prodding one finger softly at your entrance. You stilled beneath him, holding your breath. Kento tangled your fingers in his.

"Breathe." He hummed, and as you released a shaking breath, Kento began to ease one slick finger inside you. Your mouth dropped open, eyes closed beneath raising eyebrows, as Kento slid his long finger into you all the way to his knuckle. He hadn't realised he was holding his breath until he felt lightheaded.

"...you...you feel...fuck, incredible, so--so tight..." Kento whispered, his voice low and gravelly, that same primal urge to fuck immediately into you threatening to cloud his brain. By the way you gazed up at him, still and supple, you would probably let him too and he could just push right in and--

"...we'll take it slow," Kento reassured you, tight and tense, "...and I'll stop straight away if...if it hurts."

Your eyelids fluttered to feel Kento's thick tip prod at your entrance, sure he wouldn't fit until he pressed forwards, and you stretched like you'd never stretched before. You bit your lip against the faint sting, nodding urgently and gripping Kento's thighs as he looked at you in concern.

Kento was lost in the moment, his eyes zeroing in on where he gradually sheathed himself inside you. He'd never felt such exquisite pleasure, obsessed by how your plush walls moulded to the shape of him, sucking him in, slick and tight. You squeaked, biting into Kento's shoulder as he bore down on you, his cock almost sunk to the hilt. He stilled as he bottomed out, his fingertips bruising on your hip, trembling with jagged groans.

You felt so strangely placid, full, and wrapping your legs around the small of Kento's back to lock him inside you. The brief sting, the belly-deep ache, left you feeling like you had made a blooming transition from girl to woman in one deep thrust. Kento drank you in, pressing a long, lingering kiss to your lips and mumbling against them.

"...'m not gonna last long." Kento was possessed, pulling out a little before rutting into you again, delighted by your gasp, determined to break more noises out of you. His usual gentle nature was becoming quickly overrun by a firm, authoritative edge, not knowing yet how this would come to define him as a man.

Kento rocked into you, shallowly at first, before gaining the confidence that he wouldn't break you. By the time he had built a rhythm, pumping into you through sweaty pants, your breaths mingling together, he felt the drag of orgasm approaching him fast. Kento's imagination could never have matched up to the reality of dragging his cock through such nectar.

Any time Kento tried to talk, he broke off into anguished pants and groans into your throat, sinking his teeth there for a moment, seemingly irritated by how sloppy he'd become.

"...j'sso...uhnfuck...wet--best thing I--...huhnnn--"

Hearing you whimper and squeak as he moved within you offered him some condolence for being a speechless mess, at least.

Though you knew you wouldn't cum from this alone, you were lost in the addictive feeling of being full and fucked into by Kento chasing an instinctual high. You couldn't help but let your fingers wander downwards, rubbing your clit beneath them. The thick pressure in your belly made your pleasure three-dimensional, so much better than your fingers alone.

Kento was a quiet lover, saying more through heated glances and lingering touches than he ever could through words. Knowing he was holding back for fear of hurting you, you whispered against his ear, sending ripples down his spine.

"--harder-- pleasepleaseplease--"

"Fffuck okay...this?" Kento sunk into you to the hilt and jabbed, urging himself deeper, earning a guttural groan as his cockhead pressed against your cervix and soft-spot. He nodded into your neck, shuddering deeply. "Th-this...yeah...oh fuck, yeah..." Your toes curled against the back of his thighs, and you sobbed with the bone-deep adoration of his kisses to your womb. Kento's restraint snapped, tilting your hips as he gripped you, holding nothing else back.

Kento sped up, driving himself inside you with total abandon, his breaths coming out as spitting curses and groans. Finally, he strained above you, his moans breaking and peaking, unable to hold off any longer;

"--gonna...gonna...cum in you for--for-fucking-ever-- nnggh--"

Watching Kento break and spill himself inside you, his cock jerking with long, painfully pleasurable contractions, was the erotic vision you had sought your whole adult life. Hurriedly working your fingers until your own high hit you, had Kento collapsing on top of you to feel your pussy clenching around him, milking him of every little drop of seed.

Kento was silent, his corded back clenching over you. You nuzzled into his ear, pressing kisses along his jaw until he gave you his lips with a groan. Pulling gently out, and replacing his cock with his fingertips so he could feel how his seed dripped from your cunt, had Kento wondering vaguely how he'd ever use a condom now he'd tasted the ripe-peach of you without a barrier.

You nipped Kento's neck, jolting him back to reality. Glossy doe-eyes glimmered up at him in the dark; and you, desperate to feel full again, completely addicted to him as he was to you.

"...again?"

"...give-- give me a minute."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Heard some strange noises coming out of your room last night."

You kept your face innocently neutral at the breakfast table the next morning. You tipped your head to the side, inquisitive, as if you didn't feel multiple thick loads of Kento's seed soaking your underwear.

"Oh?"

"Mhm." A knowing stare from the other girls at the table. Kento sat down, clearing his throat, his plate piled with what should have been an embarrassing number of pastries.

"She's really good. At Pokémon battles." You had a single moment to admire Kento's absolute gall, the other girls looking at him with vague displeasure as he continued.

"Her Gengar's really strong actually. I wasn't ready for it. I thought Machamp would be a good choice, but--"

The other girls had already lost interest, turning their conversations elsewhere. Kento looked up at you from the other end of the table as you mouthed oh my god at him. He was inscrutable, apart from his twinkling eyes.

You were fortunate that none of these girls were at your wedding, years later. But you did occasionally still refer to making love as 'Pokémon battles', if just to hear your impassive, suited, quiet man laugh.

[milksnake-tea]

━━ scritchy scratchy .

❀ ˎˊ- prompt: about their less human traits and what it's like to pet them ❀ ˎˊ- characters: jiaoqiu, dan feng, sunday ❀ ˎˊ- warnings: none ❀ ˎˊ- a/n: this is so self indulgent GOODBYE 🙈🙈🙈 i just want to. pet them. majorly inspired by the neuron activation i had when i saw jiaoqiu's tail. also this is my therapy/break writing bc LORD THIS ONESHOT IS SAPPING MY BRAINCELLS. long hcs incoming. like really long. except for like dan feng maybe. im sorry i got carried away LMAO yapping is my specialty. also uhm. ignore the title. i literally could not come up with anything else if theres one thing im bad at. its titles ❀ ˎˊ- taglist: @sh0jun , @themoderatelyawesomeninja, @xphantasmagoriax, @rainswept, @lucensei, @akutasoda , @naraven , @scribs-dibs , @apathicace , @flurrina , @iceunhie (bc jiaoqiu is here)

Jiaoqiu's ears aren't that particularly sensitive, to be honest. He doesn't mind allowing close friends or family to touch them, and, truth be told, he finds your fascination with them amusing.

The fur on his ears is relatively short, with the real fluff being on the inside rather than on the outside. That isn't to say that you should reach for those tuffs of fluffier fur; it's rather uncomfortable and you'll be heading towards a fan to the face and a temporary revoking of ear privileges. It isn't much of a loss though, because despite the shorter fur, Jiaoqiu's ears are still soft and pleasant to touch.

Now, you didn't know this until you came by it by accident, but Jiaoqiu has a ticklish(?) spot at the base of his ears that instantly placates him, as embarrassing as it is. If you reach your fingers and scratch at where there's a little more firmness at the base, Jiaoqiu's silver tongue is suddenly quiet and he can't stop himself from keening into the touch. If you look closely enough, you'll see his fingers or his shoes tapping, speeding up the longer you scratch. It's one of his biggest weaknesses, no doubt, which is why he'll get whiny if you scratch it for too long in public, lightly smacking your hand away with a flush on his cheeks as he scrapes together what's left of his dignity. His pout is just adorable though, with slightly puffed cheeks behind that fan of his and an agitated tail, but for his sake, it's best if you keep it in private.

Because in private, Jiaoqiu is the exact opposite. Once doors are closed and prying eyes are no more, he's all too eager to get your hands on him. Of course, Jiaoqiu wouldn't be Jiaoqiu if he didn't beat around the bush and try to nudge you into petting him in his own way.

He starts after dinner, when you're lounging in the living room or cuddling in bed, unwinding just before you go to rest. His hand will start to creep to hold yours as he leans against you, before wordlessly lifting it and bringing it to his ears. At the same time, his tail will drape over both of your laps. Not a word is spoken during this, because his pride can't take it, but you know him well enough to follow suit.

Once your hands are looped around his head and at that sweet spot at the base of his ears, Jiaoqiu practically melts into you. Maybe once or twice a brief murmur of content may slip past his lips, but other than that, he's pretty much set for the night. A few minutes will pass, and you'll look back to him again, only to realize that your beloved healer has already fallen asleep, a smile on his lips.

Also, one last thing because I didn't know where to put it. But Jiaoqiu's tail is warm - incredibly warm, and he'll let you snuggle and cuddle it during the colder months of the Yaoqing. It honestly feels like you're hugging a cloud with just how fluffy it is. Like the base of his ears, it's a no-go for in public, but once you're in the comfort of your home, feel free to hug and ruffle it as much as you like. Just be careful if it wagging suddenly and smacking your hand in the process. And don't mess it up too much, because then you're going to be the one who has to brush it out (you don't mind though, and honestly neither does Jiaoqiu).

Being Dan Feng's significant other can mean a lot of things, but there's one aspect that for sure comes with the package - that being, he drags you around via his tail a lot. That thing will wrap around you like a vine, tugging you to his side in crowded areas and even when in places where he doesn't need to keep you close, his tail will still be resting around your waist or arm, protective and honestly kind of possessive.

Coupled with the fact that he can apparently desummon and summon his tail at will, this makes his choice to cling onto you - no matter how subtle it may be - intentional. His friends from the High Cloud Quintet have definitely pointed this out numerous time, but each time he waves them off with a huff and a "my personal life is none of your business". He says, as he does it in public.

Dan Feng's tail is cold - unnaturally so. It's smooth and actually kind of squishy, and it feels like river water. This is especially useful in the hotter months, where it serves as a welcomed escape from the heat. Knowing this, Dan Feng takes advantage of the temperatures by using it as an excuse to cling onto you even more. Whenever he gets questioned about it, he just shrugs and says that he's saving you from a potential heatstroke.

Now, neither Dan Feng's tail nor his horns are sensitive. They're just like any part of his body - in fact, Dan Feng's horns are less receptive to touch; he can barely feel that you're touching them, and he describes it akin to static - kind of tingly, a little ticklish, but overall ignorable.

He does like it when you play with the small tuff at the end of his tail though, a pleased hum escaping him whenever you toy with it and his tail squeezes you a little tighter. Sometimes, when he feels a little needy or lonely and wants cuddles, he'll tickle your face with this tuff of fur(? even he doesn't know what it is, honestly) before wrapping it around your arm and dragging you to wherever he needs you.

Dan Feng personally doesn't really understand what your fascination is with his horns, but it's certainly not unwelcome. If anything, he welcomes it a little too much, smugness tugging at his lips every time you ask to touch them. Sometime he'll hold it over your head, dangling it like a treat, but in the end he'll give in, because he loves the smiles on your face when allowed to indulge in what is, in his eyes, a silly thing (he would never allow anyone else to touch him so brazenly, so know this and be grateful, knowing that this is a privilege allotted to just you).

If Sunday trusts you enough to let you touch his wings, congratulations. Be honored. Because this man has trust issue after trust issue and has so many walls that Qlipoth would be jealous.

Halovians in general don't let many touch their wings, as that right is reserved to family for the primary set of wings, and to lovers for the secondary set at their nape. The reason for this is simple - Halovian wings are delicate, frail, and sensitive; one wrong move and they could be crushed without remorse. You have to treat them like glass, because they basically are glass - beautiful, yet frail.

Coupled with the fact that their secondary pair of wings is so close to their face, it's a rather intimate act to touch them. Sunday himself, inexperienced in the ways of intimacy, had to close his eyes when you first pet them, unable to handle such close proximity (this man has kissed you before).

Sunday's secondary pair of wings are particularly well-taken of, since they're, as said before, right next to his face and seen a lot due to his public image. Now, it's a common headcanon of mine that Sunday expresses himself a lot via his wings, with them fluttering when he's happy, flaring up when he's threatened, and puffing up when he's startled. I personally think that most of the time, his wings are relatively stagnant since he has that persona he has to keep up all the time, but at the same time, he's usually unprepared for those times he does feel genuine joy that his wings just start fluttering without him noticing.

This is how you found out he liked you, by the way. His wings wouldn't stop fluttering around you until you pointed them out, and instead of giving you a straight answer he just changed the subject, to which you had to ask Robin (she was ecstatic that Sunday actually had finally made a friend outside of work and found someone he liked enough to this point).

Now, let's actually talk about petting the wings themselves. Again, they're very sensitive, which is why they are a private thing only. If you did it in public, Sunday would not be happy and would probably ignore you for a day. So hold it in. I know it's hard. You can do it.

Don't worry though, because the rewards are definitely worth it. Once Sunday has given you the go-ahead to touch his wings, you're met with a very rare sight - which is Sunday with his guard completely down. His eyes are always closed when you tend to his wings, as if he's asleep. The only indicators you have that he isn't is the flush of his cheeks, the occasional breath of laughter when you rub against certain spots, and the rumbling in his chest that comes after a few minutes of petting. Yes. Sunday purrs. Birds can purr, and so can Sunday. Look it up, it's adorable.

You're not allowed to touch his halo, purely because it's almost painful to do so - although the correct term would be overstimulating. Sunday's halo is crucial to how he perceives the world around him, and such it's always receiving signals and sending them to his brain. Touching it is akin to poking his eyes, and while it usually isn't too bad, it's jarring and disorienting enough where it's a no-no.

The same can't be said for his primary set of wings - that being the larger, darker set that lies under his coat. He doesn't use nor stretch these nearly as much as his secondary set, which is why they're also more frail. You'll have to help him stretch them out from time to time, and just the wingspan enough is impressive. Sometimes, on the once-in-a-blue-moon chance that he has them out, he'll use them as your shield, covering you from the sunlight or the rain when you go outside.

There's a spot at the base of his primary wings, just in-between where the two sprout from his back, that is particularly sensitive. When you were in the middle of helping him to stretch his wings, your fingers had accidentally brushed against it, which had yanked a very uncharacteristic yelp from him. He still gets embarrassed when you mention it, but he's now grown used to the feeling of your hand against his back. Now, the most you'll get out of him is a shuddered sigh, and a faint shivering of his wings, which tells you all you need to know.

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

[brazilian-vampyra]

♱ NEEDING SOME LOVE? ｡ﾟ ♡

(english)

⋆ ִֶָ ๋ ✮⋆ synopsis: you are a succubus and offers affection after jjk men pass or are in stressful situations.

⋆ ִֶָ ๋ ✮⋆ characters: ryomen sukuna, gojo satoru, geto suguru, toji fushiguro, choso kamo, nanami kento.

⋆ ִֶָ ๋ ✮⋆ warnings: strong language, rough sex, unprotected sex, praising kink, hair pulling, degradation kink, oral (both receiving), fem!dom, male!dom, creampie, nipple play, teasing, love bites, needy behavior.

⭑ 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎 ⭑

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄 was tired. He was hella tired.

Some time ago, Kento decided to give up his life as an office worker and put into practice everything he had learned at Jujutsu High. Enduring Gojo Satoru shouting in his ear like he did in high school was the worst of the problems, the big "x" of the issue now was dealing with the curses that arrived in the city.

Sukuna's return seemed to have brought a streak of bad luck to everyone else, and it stressed him, God, how it stressed him.

He had fought against a curse called "Mahito". He was all patched up, had blue hair, was tough and very ironic, the kind that brags about their deplorable exploits. His stupid actions meant that Nanami had to spend more time at work, as he was going to finish his shift at 6 p.m., but Mahito was persistent and stupid, forcing him to work overtime.

He left office life so he could stop working like a convict, and now he was forced to work overtime because of this stupid curse?

It's incredibly disrespectful.

He arrived at the apartment tired, just thinking about taking a relaxing shower and sleeping. Maybe this vacation to Malaysia should be brought forward.

He unlocked the main door and when he entered, he turned on the orange lamp next to it, casting dim light across the room. He was already loosening his tie and muttering some swear words when he came across a peculiar figure on the sofa. You were lying on your side, resting your face in your hand, looking at him with a mischievous smile and slightly shaking your tail.

The tail, as well as the horns and wings were part of your real form, but you made them disappear to be more comfortable sometimes.

━━ What are you doing in my house? — the blonde questioned, without paying much attention to you.

━━ You know how it is, no big deal... — you slid onto the couch. ━━ Just checking if my favorite blonde is okay...

━━ I am very well.

You giggled indiscreetly.

━━ You seem stressed to me...

━━ I can ease my stress on my own, I don't need another curse bothering me today.

You got up from the couch, walking over to him with a hand on your chest, pretending to be offended.

━━ Aww, too bad. I'm not a curse, you know this... — you said, making your most fantasy features disappear, looking like a normal human. ━━ Are you going to treat me like that night was nothing?

He grunted, taking off his tie to make himself more comfortable.

━━ It was a dream. A fucking dream.

━━ It wasn't a dream... — you teased. ━━ But I agree with you on the fucking part. Wow, we fucked so much!

You kept remembering about it, with a mischievous smile on your lips.

━━ What did you come for, you devil? Feed? If so, I'm tired, I don't have any energy to give you.

Well, that's the truth. Succubus feeds on a person's vital energy through sex.

━━ Do I look evil, Kento? I'm here to take care of you. You let me feed myself, I think it's fair that I take care of you.

You took a hand to the blonde's defined jaw and slid your fingers over his skin, watching as he shivered.

━━ You'll see... I can wash your hair... — you took one of his hands and brought it to your face, so he could feel your warm cheek. ━━ Kiss your pretty lips and we can explore each other's bodies, so you will sleep very happy afterwards. Don't you think you need some love?

His mischievous smile was a beautiful invitation. And the blonde gave in to the temptation and desire you emanated. You calmly convinced him, and now you were in the bathroom, in the shower, moaning and feeling the warm water slide over your skin. Nanami's strong body hugged yours from behind, while his hands were covered in liquid soap with passion fruit and chamomile essences.

His huge hands slid over your wet skin and went to your breasts, playing with your nipples between his index and middle fingers; giving you an awesome stimulation.

You could feel his hips grinding against your ass and his cock slides through your tight insides, giving you as much pleasure as you were giving him. The blonde's deep moans were close to your ear, making you bite your lower lip. Your hands were on the blue tiled wall, providing you with some support as he delighted in your body.

━━ I told you... you would be happier- ugh, fuck...

━━ I think you're right, I can't resist that fucking pussy... — he kissed your shoulder. ━━ Goddamn, if these curses keep stressing me out I'm going to need you every week...

━━ I'll always be here for you, darling... — you smiled, biting your bottom lip and brought a hand up to his wet blonde hair, while his lips were on your shoulder, tasting your wet skin. ━━ Every time you need... to give you the sweetest dreams ever.

[...]

⭑ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 ⭑

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐑 can be irritated and stressed, like ordinary people. With Sukuna's return, there were other curses with Kenjaku causing problems, such as a stranger called Jogo. They didn't seem like a big problem, nothing he couldn't handle, but it was certainly something that would irritate him and require more strength and patience.

He had to balance this with his teaching duties and training the host of the king of curses, Yuji Itadori.

Sometimes Satoru fantasizes about what his life would be like without the responsibility of being a special grade sorcerer. Maybe he could be like most who don't have to worry about literally being humanity's last hope if the curses ever want to claim dominance again.

He had lost his best friend a few years ago, and it still hurt him. He had to take care of Yuji, Megumi and Nobara, as well as put up with hearing shit from other elitist sorcerers.

All of this made Satoru frustrated.

This caused erotic dreams to happen with a certain frequency, and the figure that satisfied him was you, a succubus. You're wrong if you think that your relationship with the most powerful sorcerer was just sex, nothing like that, you also talked a few times, flirted and even saw each other in real life.

At that point, you could already consider each other very close.

Now he had arrived home and removed the bandage that covered his vibrant blue eyes.

━━ I know you are here, sweetie.

He hadn't turned on any lights yet, but then you emerged from the shadows when he turned on the yellow lights in the living room. The lights were in a weaker tone, precisely so that he could be more relaxed and rest, providing a cozy atmosphere.

You were wearing a button-down shirt he had. A long-sleeved white shirt that had a few buttons lazily closed. Your thighs were bare, your smooth skin perfectly visible and your seductive scent carried far and wide. Your horns were not visible, nor were your wings or tail.

He went feral just by seeing this.

━━ I can see in those pretty eyes how tired you are... — you walked closer to him, hugging his neck affectionately. ━━ Wanna tell me what happened?

A muffled laugh echoed between you, a laugh coming from him before he slid his tongue across his lower lip gently.

━━ It's amazing how you always come up with the right words, and that lovely voice... — he wrapped his arms around your waist. ━━ It doesn't even feel like you're here with the purpose of sucking me dry.

You laughed at the audacity of the perfect white-haired sorcerer's words.

━━ Do you think I'm a mercenary who only cares about your life energy, Satoru? What we have is special... — you looked at him with your best puppy eyes.

He smiled happily upon hearing this.

━━ Don't you think you're needing some love, handsome?

You looked at him with your pink eyes, like a shining gemstone. Glowing with lust.

Gojo's response was his lips immediately being pressed against yours. His warm tongue slid against yours, allowing you to taste the mint gum he had been chewing all day. His hands held and squeezed your waist, making you moan against his lips, and he bit your lower lip lightly.

When you realized, you were on his bed. Your clothes were making a trail that led from the living room to the bedroom, and your bodies were sweaty on the sheets. You were on your side, with your head on the pillow, feeling one of Satoru's hands squeezing your breasts while the other held your thigh, slightly raised so that he could thrust his hips with precision against you.

The blue-eyed man bit your neck a little between kisses, probably leaving your skin marked, but he liked it. He liked to have the feeling that you were his.

━━ This pussy calms me down in a way... — he moaned, never stopping moving his hips against you, making the sound of your bodies echo throughout the room. ━━ It's like it was made for me...

━━ Take it easy, love... — you gripped the sheets tightly, feeling his body against yours as your vision was clouded with pleasure. ━━ Or you'll get addicted...

━━ Fucking hell, I already am... — hearing him go crazy was priceless. ━━ I need that damn pussy sliding on my cock every night...

[...]

⭑ 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎 ⭑

𝐅𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊 that even though it was half a curse, the human feelings of this man who was almost two hundred years old were the strongest. He — who had exhausted eyes — was lost among difficult and confused thoughts.

His current mental state lived up to his appearance. He was as worn out as his eyelids and his dark circles. The physical and mental exhaustion of the blood handler was increasingly evident, he no longer knew what to do. He had constant and massive existential crises, which made his head scream.

Being by Kenjaku's side felt right, but something in him told him that wasn't the only option he had. Halloween was coming, the coup in Shibuya was going to happen and Choso only thought about running out of there and never coming back, evaporating like water in a hot pot of rice. But on the other hand, he must avenge the death of his brothers.

Why did life have to be so difficult?

He entered the room, throwing himself on the bed and burying his face in a pillow as he sighed heavily and tried to clear his thoughts. That was when a shiver ran down his spine and he looked at an armchair next to him.

There you were, with your horns and wings and your tail, slowly swaying back and forth like a cat.

━━ Hi, baby.

You smiled and waved calmly at him.

━━ W-Who are you? What are you doing here?

━━ Oh, don't you know who I am? — You were surprised. ━━ Well, let me put on a friendlier appearance to talk to you then.

In the blink of an eye your mystical features disappeared.

━━ Better, right?

You fixed your hair softly.

━━ I'm a succubus, by the look on your face I can assume you've never met one, right?

He nodded shyly.

━━ Well, Choso... I noticed you're so stressed. So tired, so depressed... — you walked over to the bed, running your hands through his silky hair. ━━ That brought me here.

━━ Can I assume you want to kill me...?

You laughed at the man's naivety.

━━ Kill you? No, no. Why would I kill such an adorable guy like you? — he was so adorable and cute. ━━ All I need is a little bit of your life energy, and don't worry, you'll recover in time.

━━ And how do I give it to you?

━━ You'll have to cum for me.

His pale cheeks turned red like ripe strawberries.

━━ W-What!?

━━ Feeding me during sex is the best option, and the best thing is that it doesn't hurt you either... — your hot pink eyes glowed at him, in a tone of eloquent desire. ━━ Don't you think you need some love, baby?

Yes, Choso had to assume that this was the best option for him at the moment. He might have to give you some of his life energy, but at the same time he would be rewarded for it. He was a bit inexperienced, and he didn't hide it — maybe he couldn't even try to hide it.

While you were kissing, he ended up asking to taste your pussy. That was the most promiscuous and shy request a man had ever made to you, two extremes at once. He accepted, and now he was eating you out with a desire that not even an extremely experienced man had ever eaten. His eyes were closed, his hands were squeezing your thighs and his face was buried between your legs.

The desire left him intoxicated, too focused on making you feel good.

Your legs were draped over his shoulders and you held onto his beautiful dark hair, squeezing it every now and then just out of sheer will, as you let him dictate at his own pace. Kamo's tongue slid inside you and his lips worked together to make you moan more and more.

At that point he couldn't take it anymore. The noticeable erection inside his pants was making that piece of clothing tighter and tighter, and if you kept moaning like that while he tasted you, he would probably end up cumming in his boxers. It had been a long time since he had tasted pussy this sweet, and now he felt like he was being bewitched or something.

━━ Hmm... you're so sweet, hm... — he kept eating.

━━ Such a good boy, you're doing well... — looked down, seeing his lips on your soaked sex. ━━ Don't be shy, rub your face on it...

Without even blinking, he held your thighs tighter and rubbed his face against your pussy, making you moan loudly and grip his hair tighter. That was unexpected, as you didn't expect to be dealing with a man who would obey so much.

Choso Kamo is indeed a good boy.

[...]

⭑ 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 ⭑

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐍 was far from being a bed of roses. Unlike what is shown in movies or comics, it is a sad, strange life with a growing sense of death because at any moment there could be a sniper waiting for you. Or another hitman who was hired to kill you as personal revenge for some of your work.

It was no different for Toji, who had to kill people almost every day.

The smell of iron coming from the blood was no longer something he found strange, as it was like smelling the good smell of a disinfectant or a perfume that was pleasant. Most of his clothes were black, just so he wouldn't worry about blood stains, his house didn't have light-colored carpets, precisely so that he wouldn't have to do such intense cleaning if blood leaked through a trash bag.

He lived in an extremely simple apartment, in a suburban neighborhood where the rent was very cheap.

Perhaps if his gambling addiction hadn't consumed him, he might have been in a better situation, as he was paid very well for his services. It was no surprise, after all Toji is a professional at what he does.

Today he was hired to kill an extremely important man, and he was protected by some very experienced and strong sorcerers, that was a lot of work and Toji got hurt a little. Now he had taken a cold shower and put on black sweatpants, lying down on the double bed in that small room, lit by the orange light from the streetlight that invaded through the window.

You teleported to his bed, laying down next to him.

Upon smelling her sweet scent entering his nostrils, Fushiguro wrapped a strong arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

━━ I was already thinking about summoning you, my little devil...

His deep voice shook your bones, reverberating on it.

━━ Missing me, my love? — you teased.

━━ Always, honey.

━━ Had a bad day?

━━ Bad as fuck, but now I have you here.

━━ I think you're needing some love, don't you agree? — you turned to him, smiling mischievously and running a hand over the scar he had on his lip.

━━ I need all the love in the world right now.

And so you started kissing. It was an intense kiss, with a lot of desire and lust as your tongues touched and he grunted against your mouth. His kiss always seemed to take the air out of you, leaving you shocked at how good he felt.

Toji Fushiguro is ridiculously good in bed.

Right now, he was reminding you why he's the best you've ever had. This man was fucking you in a deliciously sinful mating press, holding your thighs as his green eyes were locked on yours and he was thrusting his hips against you like there's no tomorrow.

Fucking looking into the eyes was something so intimate and serious that you had never done with anyone; Toji could consider himself a big important milestone in your centuries-old succubus life.

━━ So fuckin' good f'me... — he was going crazy, just like you.

It felt strangely good, feeling him thrusting while you were stuffed. This man had already come and was still hard and needy for more, so much so that some of his hot cum was dripping down your poor little hole.

━━ You're such a whore, aren't you? This pussy is dripping and you still want more...

You smiled mischievously, biting your bottom lip and looking at him.

━━ What can I do? You're irresistible...

[...]

⭑ 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 ⭑

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐒 was not satisfied with his concubines.

Yes, you did not read it wrong. No, that wasn't a doubt, it was an affirmation.

You, like a good succubus, had been watching him from the shadows for a while, because after all, his life seemed to be extremely interesting. Realized from the beginning that he had four concubines, all of them beautiful, with the most different bodies, different shapes. Always dressed in flashy lingerie and wearing jewelry.

But somehow, he no longer looked at them with that hunger and desire he had at first. You wonder why?

The truth is that there was no answer to this notorious question. He had probably just lost interest in them or sex in general for a while because of the problems that were plaguing him. After all, he is the king.

With this in mind, you decided to pay a visit to the lonely king.

You entered his throne room, wearing beautiful red lingerie, adorned with some rubies, which framed your curves very well. Your soft skin was completely exposed and you made a point of letting your perfume emanate far away, as well as your pheromones.

━━ Sukuna... long time no see.

You teased him, laughing softly. You never had to bow to him, he "forgave" your audacity.

━━ Little brat... can I know why are you bothering me?

━━ I came to offer you help.

━━ Help?

━━ I noticed you don't care about your concubines anymore... from afar I feel your dissatisfaction.

He laughed mischievously, in his classic way.

━━ And what did you come here for? Apply to replace one of them?

━━ Sukuna, speaking like that, it seems like you don't know me — you made a subtle gesture with your hand. ━━ I just came here to propose a deal.

━━ What type of deal?

━━ You give me some of your vital energy and I give you pleasure...

He would have said "yes" right away the way he was, but playing hard to get was part of his personality.

━━ What makes you think I would accept this deal?

You smiled mischievously and began to crawl towards him, slowly climbing the steps that led to his throne at the top. Like a cat, it crawls slowly until it reaches the ball of yarn.

━━ Oh, my king... — you knew how to play dirty. ━━ I was watching you the whole time, I can see how frustrated you are.

You rested your head on his thigh, covered by the white kimono.

━━ You're needing some love, my dear...

And he agreed to this deal the right way. You knew you would have to put up with all the brutality of the king of curses, and you were willing to do that, especially because he didn't go beyond the limits, but he really was remarkable.

The white kimono he was wearing was already open, exposing his beautiful body with the marks that were his striking feature. You were kneeling right in front of him, while he held your hair and moaned, with his eyes closed and tilting his head back. Your mouth slid over his huge cock, feeling how his precum slid over your tongue every time you played with his sensitive, pink tip.

Sukuna's moans were as profane as his dark, morbid nature.

But they were truly a pleasure to listen to, and they were so good that it was making your thin panties weat with your desire, which ran down your slits as you used your mouth on him.

━━ F-Fuck... what a good fucking slut you are... — he pulled your hair.

You gagged on his cock a few times. Which was completely acceptable since he was indeed huge.

You were still going to have a lot of fun in that room, you couldn't even imagine that you could fuck in as many positions as he was going to fuck you on that throne.

[...]

⭑ 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 ⭑

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑 was on the verge of going crazy.

Summer was a difficult season, as curses were everywhere and spread like plagues. In fact, the heat was so intense that it could kill the curses on its own, but he, as a sorcerer, had the obligation to act against them.

All that stress was already becoming unbearable, Suguru was already one step away from freaking out and killing everything and everyone in sight — whether it was a curse or not. He no longer cared about anything, and only thought about how complicated his life was and that maybe he wished he could have been born without this gift, so that he could do what "normal people" do.

Fortunately, or unfortunately for the man with long dark hair, you already had an eye on everything. I analyzed him from afar at various times, and thought about when would be the right time to approach him. You heard that he had been having these outbursts since Jujutsu High, now he was an adult and was still trying to control himself for not causing a giant disgrace.

Now he was on the balcony of his bedroom, it was a moonlit, starry and hot night.

His hair was tied up at the top and loose at the bottom, so he felt a little fresher. He was only wearing gray boxers and had picked up a cigarette, when he was about to light it, he noticed that he had lost the lighter.

━━ I always leave it here on the balcony table...

He muttered to himself.

━━ Looking for this?

He heard an unfamiliar female voice behind him and immediately looked to see what it was about. It was you, you were there looking at him like a predator looks at its prey, with your hot pink eyes.

━━ Don't get closer, or I-...

━━ What? Are you gonna eat me? — you teased, while holding his lighter. ━━ I mean, depending on how it goes, I accept it...

━━ Who are you?

You took the cigarette from his hand, politely asking "excuse me", and brought it to your lips, lighting it with the lighter and inhaling the smoke before bringing it to his lips. Suguru should assume that was a very sensual thing to watch, more so than he would like to admit.

You introduced yourself, saying your name to him and offering a gentle smile.

━━ Are you a curse? — he was smoking his cigarette calmly. ━━ I can feel your cursed energy.

━━ Succubus and incubus are not curses, but we have cursed energy.

━━ Then why are you here? I don't think I have anything that interests you, except my skills.

━━ I think your skills are formidable, but I don't want them, don't worry — you leaned over the balcony and took the cigarette from his lips, smoking it before giving it back. ━━ I want something else, and it can help you.

━━ I'm listening.

━━ I want to have sex with you.

Suguru almost choked on his own smoke at that moment. A creature appeared on his bedroom balcony in the middle of a summer night and suddenly said it wanted to have sex with him? That's weird.

━━ Sorry, I'm usually pretty straight to the point, haha.

━━ Can you explain? — he was recovering from his surprised cough.

━━ I feed on vital energy, and I need yours. Don't worry, I won't take everything, and you will recover pretty quickly because of your cursed energy level.

━━ What do I get from that?

━━ I have been watching you during this time, I know you are stressed and exhausted from having to deal with curses. So... I can make you feel good, really good, trust me...

━━ I won't sell myself for lust, not even if... holy shit.

While he was talking, you took off the thin t-shirt you were wearing and left your breasts exposed, leaving now only your denim mini skirt.

━━ C'mon, Suguru... don't you think you deserve some love? — you told him, in your seductive way.

The answer after that was clearly yes, and he buried the cigarette in the ashtray before kissing your lips eagerly and holding you in his arms, dragging you to the bed. Even though you had just met, it wasn't difficult for you to find the harmony between your bodies because somehow, you had the perfect fit.

You told the sorcerer that he just needed to let you ride him so he could be calm and sleep happily. He didn't think twice before accepting the proposal, and now you were there, in his lap.

Geto was lying down, with his eyes closed and moaning slyly while keeping his hands on your hips. You kept your weight on your knees, resting on the mattress as you moved your hips up and down, feeling your pussy milking his cock. His fingerprints would stay on your hot skin for a long time, you never wanted to forget this.

He looked beautiful with his hair messy like that, begging for more and being sensitive.

━━ W-What kind of black magic is this? W-What are you doing to me? — he moaned frantically. ━━ Oh my fucking God... that's so perfect...

You giggled mischievously as you continued moaning and said in your most promiscuous tone:

━━ I put a spell on you... — you brought a hand to his face, sliding it across his lower lip. ━━ Because you're mine...

[...]

۰ ࣪📂 ٬٬ 𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: maybe it's a random topic but i was fantasizing about it one day and decided to write :) everything was written by me, don't take it as yours or get inspired without giving credit.

[visionsofmagic]

❝screaming another man’s name while being fucked by him❞

including: zoro, luffy, sanji, shanks [opla versions]

―❛ nsfw, brat!reader, f!reader, possessive behaviour, chocking (kinda), licking, different positions, daddy kink, swearing, pet names, spanking, angry sex, humiliation, begging, fingering, oral > f receiving, marking, claiming, mentions of voyeurism, hair, ‘is all  I suppose. ✸ wc: 2.3k ✸ posted only zoro’s version but didn’t appear on tags, so, I repost that part with others’ parts too. tried to stay in characters. enjoy!

⭑ ZORO

“oohhh - sanji!”

you moaned, not aware of your own moans until he asked, voice deep, sending radiations of danger.

“what did you just say?”

hands on your waist freezing, the pressure still on there yet it doesn’t continue pulling and pushing your body, stopping fucking you - the sudden silence in the room fills up with heavy breathing.

he holds you by the neck, raising your body up, he makes your back touch his bare chest, back arching - his cock twists inside your walls.

“I asked,” he says, warm breaths hitting your ear as his voice reaches every part of your body as if it's a poison - and he is the only cure for it. “what did you fucking say.”

it wasn’t intentional - you didn’t mean to moan another man’s name in the middle of fucking, but, it came as an instinct.

“z-zoro - I - didn’t mean to - aggh -!”

“didn’t mean to what? moaning another man’s name?” he chuckled, far away from entertaining, just pure annoyance. “moaning sanji’s name while my dick inside you, breakin’ you into half, hm?”

you can’t answer, you can’t even comprehend what to do because you don’t understand why you moaned sanji’s name. however, zoro knows you more than you do, and owns every knowledge about the hidden meanings behind your actions, words, and looks - he isn’t dumb, he knows how you close your thigh around sanji whenever he cooks, watching him from the corner of your eyes as you bite your lips without even noticing it.

it is not that zoro doesn’t get jealous, he does and he will prove it right away yet he wants to satisfy you in every way he can - he can see the truth behind the whole thing; you want the full attention that you try to make him angry with all these acts, and you have no idea that you’re doing all that only for him - for zoro so that he can get possessed around you.

he’s a pleaser though, for you, and he will plan your little game, giving what you want.

“maybe I should call him,” he says, and whimpers when your pussy clenches around his length on its own - pure instinct, pure satisfaction. he smirks, pride runs in his veins, he really knows you - each hit point, each desire, everything. he leaves your body, bending it over again, ass getting higher.

he begins to fuck you so slow that you swear you will lose your mind anytime soon as his cock goes out of your horny clit until his tip touches your folds, only to shove it in again with a hard yet effective thrust.

weren’t his hands holding you by the hips, you would hit the wall in front of your face - moaning louder than before, afraid that the crew will hear you as you get fucked by furious zoro.

“ohh, I definitely should call him. wanna make him watch your pretty face as I fuck your hungry pussy for my cock,” he says, thrusting faster each passing time, making your hands grip the sleeves under you. “would you like that?” he asks, balls hitting every right spot of your ass cheeks, thrust begins to mixture of both pain and pleasure.

“ohhh - zoro - zoro -!”

“that’s right baby. roronoa zoro,” he kneels down, abdomen touching your back, dick reaches the end of your pussy, a hand grips your hair, pulling it harshly, “scream my fucking name louder, wanna hear it, wanna everyone hear it as well.”

“‘m sorry, zoro, ‘m so sorry -“

“oh please,” he mocks you, leaving your hair, only to hold you by the neck this time, pushing you onto the mattress lower, cries rush onto your face. soaking, you moan his name over and over again. “you’re not sorry at all. you’re just a slut, aren’t you?” his fingers play with your ass hole, sending a new sense of satisfaction into your body, “a slut only for my cock though,” he whispers into himself, slapping your ass, earning a scream out of your pretty parted lips.

then, he turns you around, and the cock swifts inside you - standing above you, he puts one of his hands beside your head, and the other one grips your neck completely, making you look up to his face - he finds the pace that he knows that will make you see starts.

eyes sparkling with lust as you look at him, half-closed, blurry already, dry tears on the cheeks, chest raising up and down rapidly while his cock fucks your abused clit harder, and deeper. “yes my slut,” he says, possessiveness can be heard through his voice, “look at who’s fucking you right now. not luffy, not that shitty waiter sanji either. just roronoa zoro. who’s fucking you? whose pussy is this? say it.”

“roro - ohhhh, shit - roronoa z-zoro!”

he nods with such pride that he smirks, still furious, but enjoying this so much that he decides to fuck you in every position he can until the whole crew knows you’re getting fucked by him in his damn room, crying only his name. “that’s it my pretty slut, you will never forget it. from now on, I will dig it into your dizzy head so that your legs will open on their own whenever you see me.”

“please, yes, yes, zoro!” going all mindless, you let him do what he wants - after all, this is what you wanted, isn’t it?

“pretty slut. gotta make you know who you belong to.”

⭑ LUFFY

“fuuuck - usopp!” the words - the moan comes out of you without your control, making his head higher up.

“huh? say somethin’ baby?” he asks, not stopping eating you from the back, fingers joined, brows raised, curiously looking at you.

“‘m so sorry, luffy - I - I wasn’t thinking straight- I - ohhh!” you try to say but your words are cut by his fingers scissoring inside you.

“oh,” he says, sounding not surprised but excited, chuckling even as he adds, “I didn’t hear it wrong then. you really moaned his name - while my tongue is deep inside you, fingering this beautiful pussy that I thought clenching because of how good I am fucking you.”

between your loud whimpers mixing with moans, you begin to say how sorry you are. you weren’t aware of it until the moment usopp’s name left your mouth. you knew it was luffy who was making you week on the knees, who’s have your legs wrapped around his bare shoulders, your pussy wide open, hands on his curly hair as you pull them whenever his tongue and fingers reach your g-spot - only he can fuck you like this, you know it! but why you moaned usopp’s name, why you pictured him in your mind beside luffy are the questions you have no answers to.

“I don’t know what happened to me - ohhh - luffy, ‘m so sorry - fuuck!”

both moaning with pleasure and crying with pure guilt, you try to hide your face from luffy, a hand positioned on your half of the face, not looking at him, afraid that you made him upset and disappointed yet luffy is there to prove you wrong when he leaves your pussy, gets up, holding you by the chin as he lowers down, making both of you hit the bed underneath you.

hovering over you, he makes you see his smiling face, lips shining because of your soaking, eyes sparkling.

“oh, pretty baby, look at me,” he says, caressing your chin, “I am not mad. not at all. if you want to bring another man into the bed -“

“no, no - I don’t - I really don’t!” you protest, so shy at the thought. you only want luffy, you know that, and you want to apologize to him for being such a greedy girl, “you’re my one and only luffy. I only want you.”

he chuckles softly, shaking his head, fingers finally finding your aching pussy again, playing with it as he says, “‘s okay. if I am the only one you want, then, let me fuck you that your whole body remember I am the one and only for it.”

he keeps his promises, fucking you until the only thing you have on your mind is him - nothing more, nothing less.

yet he doesn’t leave you without teasing you, giving you wet kisses, markings, and even slaps from here to there - enjoying seeing you all shy yet greedy for him.

⭑ SANJI

“oh yes, yes, yes, right there - so good so good - please more, zoro, please!”

“hm? what?” he asks in a surprised tone, hands stopping playing with your breasts, tongue staying on the hardened nipple without moving, eyes looking up to your confused face from where he stays on - your exposed chest.

he smirks, a bit of jealousy and entertainment at the same time, realizing you have no clue about what you said a second ago, legs push him closer - wanting his cock deep inside your warm walls to start moving again because you can’t understand why he has stopped fucking you.

“oh my beautiful madam,” he teases, “can’t even realize he moaned another man’s name while having my cock warm inside her pussy!”

your eyes widen after you comprehend the words he’s saying.

you swear lowly, hands touch his well-built chest, heat rushing all over your face, and you begin to feel guilt blooming inside your abdomen which has twisted.

“sanji - I am so sorry, I didn’t- I wasn’t -“ he cuts you off, right hand finds your neck as long fingers caress your face.

his face so close to yours as he chuckles, “oh, did my pretty lady remember who’s fucking her? not zoro, eh?”

he can’t decide whether he should feel humiliated or amused. yet he doesn’t go hard on you, moving his hips, he earns low moans from you - hands trembling on his chest, the dilemma rises up inside the mind, thoughts about zoro shuts down by sanji, he shoves his dick into you slowly and in one go as if he’s trying to remind you that you’re under him - not zoro’s or any other man’s.

“please, sanji - faster, please!” your please now is filled with his name comes as prays into his ears, the pride increases, giving sanji a chance to play with your cute little mind.

“that’s right baby, sanji - say that again.” his movements become faster, harder.

“sanji, sanji, sanji - aggh, so good -“ with the help of the last decent you have, you moan his name louder and louder, wanna make him prove that you’re mind full of him, giving him the apology he deserves in a way he would like to get; being so noisy that everyone will acknowledge what you’re doing behind the doors.

“would make a mess out of you. you will leave this room barely walking because of me,” his possession is perceivable, burning you alive with the desire for more. hands grip your inner thighs, opening them wider, a painful breath leaves your lungs as you shut your eyes, giving sanji what he wants; devouring you to tame you.

“pretty lady needs a lesson, and I am here to give it.”

⭑ SHANKS

he doesn’t say much, chuckling or laughing would suit him better but he knows you should have known that no one can fuck you like he does when another’s man comes from you - moaning with it instead of saying shank’s name.

holding you from the waist, he takes control of you, not letting you ride him no more, sweats flow from your body into his.

the moment you hear his voice, memories of the past seconds rush to your mind, and you find yourself putting your hands on his shoulders, afraid that he will push you.

contrary to what you expect, shanks moves your hips slowly, forth, and back - his balls feel heavy under you, hair on his lower abdomen makes the pleasure double.

you hold your tears; blurry vision, soaking clit, reddened face, agape mouth - pathetic yet beautiful, he thinks. “daddy’s cock isn’t enough for you, hm, is this the case why you moan another man’s name like that even when you’re,” he takes your chin, making you look down, seeing the mess you’re creating, “cumming onto my cock?”

“it’s not it, shanks!” earn a spank on your ass.

“then what is it princess?” he asks, brows raised, fingers traveling on your body, “am I not fucking you good that you fantasize about another man while bouncing on my lap?”

he lets you say countless sorry words, cries inside his arms, explaining how you didn’t mean to do that, how he’s the only one for you yet he doesn’t seem satisfied, taking a deep breath, raising your body then lowering it down - cock thrusting deep and hard.

throwing your head, you begin to beg for him to forgive you, to fuck you.

“in that case,” he says, putting himself a glass of wine from the small table beside you while still sitting on his favorite chair that he fucks you onto. leaning back, he moves his hand in the air, “fuck yourself on my cock, show me how much you can beg for my cock, then, I will forgive you and fuck your greedy pussy princess,”

he watches you going blank for a moment before beginning to bounce on him, moaning from the throat, hands traveling around your body to make a show only for his eyes.

he whimpers lowly, a smirk lightening his attractive face, eyes burning in fire, “give daddy a show. and when you’re done, I will call for him and make him watch as I fuck you good.”

❤💙

taglist • tagging: @snowprincesa1 ❦

[crystallinestars]

How They React to Your Death

My HCs about how I think the Genshin boys would react to your death. I wanted to write Kaeya too, but ran out of steam.

This month has been terrible to me, so I was in the mood for angst. I don't know how well these turned out, but they were fun to think about.

Part 2 here.

Characters: Alhaitham, Childe, Heizou, Kaveh, Lyney, Neuvillette, Venti, Wanderer/Scaramouche, and Wriothesley

WARNING:

Reader has death descriptions. Some are more graphic than others, but I don't get into the nitty gritty details.

Spoilers for the backstories of all the mentioned boys.

MAJOR SPOILERS for Act V of the Fontaine Archon quest in Neuvillette's part.

Childe's part contains mention of suicidal thoughts.

Kaveh's and Venti's parts contain alcoholism

🎧 Alhaitham

Despite Alhaitham’s considerable wealth, no amount of money could cure your Eleazar sickness. His money could only buy treatment that prolonged your life a little bit, but ultimately your many years of battling the illness ended when he got news from the doctors that you had passed away in your sleep.

Alhaitham had accepted the news fairly quickly. He knew your death was inevitable, could see you slowly wasting away each time he visited you in the hospital over the past few months. So it was no surprise to him when the day finally came. The other patients and staff thought it strange how Alhaitham had no visible reaction to the news, but some chalked it up to shock when in truth the Scribe was simply accepting of that fact. There was no use denying something that already happened.

When Alhaitham came home that day, the house felt silent and empty. It reminded him of how the house felt when his grandmother passed away when he was younger. The sensations were similar. However, he did not cry over your death. Instead, he carried on his life as normal, or as close to it as he could now that you were no longer a part of what he considered ‘normal’.

At first glance, people thought that Haitham was unaffected by your death. Nothing about him changed. Not his mannerisms, his quality of work, or his expression. He remained the same reserved, stoic Scribe who had no time for trivial nonsense or extra work. He also never talked about you to others aside from confirming their question if you were truly gone. Alhaitham was like a well-oiled machine that worked efficiently like clockwork, keeping up the same even rhythm.

What they don’t see is how he comes home with the expectation of hearing your voice greet him upon entering, only to be faced with a defeating silence that makes his heart sink. They don’t know that Alhaitham wakes up throughout the night, expecting to find you snuggled up next to him in bed the way you used to before your sickness got worse, and you had to be hospitalized. However, you weren’t there no matter how many times he looked towards your side of the bed, and the Scribe could only sigh and try to fall back asleep while ignoring his aching heart.

No one sees how Alhaitham gets too lost in his books in the mornings and accidentally makes two cups of coffee instead of one due to force of habit. Or how, for once, he finds the silence of his house bothersome without your voice and the sounds of your activities resounding within the walls, and it’s enough to distract him from reading. He could be found reading at the House of Daena and Puspa Café more often from then on.

During his afternoon naps, Alhaitham sneaks back home and cradles your favorite blanket to mimic the sensation of holding your soft body in his arms the way he used to when you joined him for naps. He listens to recordings of you talking with him just so he can hear your voice again. He was glad he made the decision to record your voice at the hospital before you became too weak to speak. It gave him the chance to hear you one more time even if the sound of your voice made his chest hurt so much that he occasionally had to stop the recording to collect himself.

Nobody sees how Alhaitham finally picks up the fiction books you recommended him because they were your favorite. He prefers non-fiction, but these books are the last things he has left through which he could connect to your mind and way of thinking. He reads them all cover-to-cover even if he finds the story lacking or the writing not to his taste. He will learn to treasure each and every word because you once did.

What someone might see, as Kaveh did when he moved in with the Scribe, is a bookshelf filled with a few journals, a thick book with an emerald cover, and an assortment of fiction books that exist nowhere else in the house. Alhaitham never talks about these books unless asked, but their well-worn covers are a sign of frequent use, and sure enough, one can catch him reading a rare fiction book during one specific month each year.

🐋 Childe

You went missing after going out to collect some firewood in the woods near Childe’s home. A search party was arranged to find you with Childe in the lead, and he was also the first one to find your remains. Your body had been torn apart, blood and innards splattered across the snow, no doubt the work of some rifthounds. Usually, Childe would relish in such a gory sight, but not this time. Not when it’s your blood and flesh painted in the snow.

The sight leaves him numb. He’s numb when the search party comes to retrieve you, numb when he sees your parents weeping over your gruesome death, and numb when he takes on the duty of exterminating every rifthound he finds around Morepesok.

He wants to cry too, to grieve for you the way he needs, but refrains. He doesn’t want to appear weak and unreliable when his younger siblings mourn and cry over your death. You were like family to them, and your death broke their little hearts to pieces. Childe didn’t want to burden his siblings further by breaking down in front of them. He needed to remain a reliable older brother who could support them through this tough time, even when his own heart bled and he cried in his sleep when he dreamed about you.

Childe’s underlings noted that the Eleventh Harbinger became colder and more irritable after your passing. Any mention of your name would garner the speaker a harsh glare, and if Childe assumed what said person said about you was disrespectful, he didn’t hesitate to start a fight and beat the other person within an inch of their life. He became violent and unhinged, much like how he used to be when he returned from the Abyss as a fourteen-year-old boy.

Childe knew his behavior was irrational, and it pained him to see even his own family fear him due to his violent actions. He felt restless. Spending time at home among your belongings summoned feelings of longing and sadness, but even so, he couldn’t bear to throw anything away. He lived among the ghosts of your existence, however, it drove him mad with grief.

Childe needed an outlet for his emotions, so he took to fighting monsters and other strong opponents. He became even more reckless in battle. If before, the Harbinger sought out strong enemies to test his mettle against them and grow stronger as a result, now he sought out an opponent that would be worthy of taking his life.

Childe didn’t want to abandon his family. He loved them dearly and wanted to see his siblings grow up to be happy and successful people, but life without you felt so hollow. A part of him wanted to return to his family, but the sense of his family feeling incomplete never left him. You were just as much of a family to him as his siblings and parents were. He had plans to start his own family with you. But now… now, a part of him yearns to reunite with you in the afterlife. He promised he would stay by your side no matter what, and Ajax is not one to break his promises.

🔍 Heizou

Heizou was one of the first to hear about your stabbing that occurred in an Inazuman alleyway late that evening. You were rushed to a doctor to have your wound treated, but the robber who attacked you hit a vital area. Your blood loss was colossal, and it wasn’t long after arriving at the doctor’s that you succumbed to your injury.

To Heizou, the news brought on a sense of deja vu. He’s already lost a friend to crime in the past, and now he lost you to crime, too. The knowledge made him furious and heartbroken. He was angry at the robber for stabbing you just so he could steal some money that you didn’t want to part with, and he was angry at himself for failing to prevent this. After his friend passed away, Heizou swore to nip crime in the bud by discouraging criminals from committing crimes with the threat that he would find and capture them no matter what without fail. But what good did his resolve do if you still died because of an armed robber?

The heartache and guilt he felt ate away at him as the memory of your ashen face during your last few moments haunted him. He lost you. Never again would he get to spend time with you and make you laugh, kiss and hug you, or tell you he loved you.

His anger drove him to capture the murderer in record time, but hearing the criminal’s subsequent sentence for theft and murder didn’t comfort the detective. No amount of jail time would ever atone for the loss of your life.

After that day, Heizou lost his playful demeanor, becoming somber and reserved. He threw himself into his work, feeling pressured to capture as many criminals as he could in as little time as possible. However, his grief and exhaustion caused his mind to dull and make mistakes while investigating clues. It got to the point where Kujou Sara had to forcibly send him on vacation so he could take a break and properly process your death.

Despite his protests, Heizou knew he wasn’t much use in his current state, so he took this free time to visit your family and mourn together with them. He apologized for not doing a better job of protecting you, fully expecting your parents to lay blame on him for not protecting their child. To his surprise, your parents didn’t blame him at all. They even thanked him for catching the murderer and helping them to feel a little more at peace. Heizou’s interaction with your family helped him feel a tiny bit less guilty about your death.

The experience left him feeling a little less broken, so in the following days he sorted through your belongings in your shared home. He packed away some items to return to your parents, some things he put in storage, and others he gave away that he remembered you wanting to get rid of. A few of your items he kept for himself, one of which was a scarf you mentioned you bought because it was the same shade of green as his eyes which reminded you of him.

Heizou wore your scarf as a keepsake and good luck charm and would hardly be seen without it when he finally came back to work. What once served as your reminder of him, now served as his reminder of you, the person he loved with his whole being. But with the memories of you came the reminder of how you died. Though the memory was painful, it helped Heizou work up the will to keep pursuing his goal of eradicating crime. Even when the case was extremely tough with conflicting clues, your scarf would remind him to not give up, to not let another incident like yours happen again, and Heizou would persevere. He would continue to persevere no matter how long it took because he didn’t want innocent lives like yours to be snatched away so cruelly. Maybe one day, he will see you in the afterlife and proudly tell you all about how he achieved his dream. Until then, he will work hard to be worthy of the title of Inazuma’s best detective.

🍷 Kaveh

Kaveh had a lot of work to do. He was saddled with creating drafts for another large project while also trying to work on the commission for constructing a library in Aaru village for the children. Wanting to help alleviate his burden, you offered to take the finished drafts over to Aaru village yourself so he could focus on finishing up work for his other project. Kaveh tried to object, saying you really didn’t need to trouble yourself on his behalf, but you insisted, expressing your desire to help him finish his work sooner so the two of you could spend more time together again. After some deliberation, he let you go to the village by yourself, confident that you could make the trip since you accompanied him there several times before.

A few days later, Kaveh received news that you had died on your return trip from the desert. When he heard the cause of your death, his stomach roiled. You perished in quicksand just like his father. You died doing something for his sake, just like his father did.

Whatever future plans he was building together with you, whatever progress you made in helping him slowly heal from his trauma, it all came crashing down around him. Your death reopened old wounds Kaveh was only starting to heal from, as well as left new scars that tormented him every waking moment.

The first few weeks, Kaveh couldn’t stand to be in your shared home. It was full of memories of you, and each and every one of your belongings would stab at his heart like a blade. Moreover, the house felt so silent without you around. It reminded him of when his mother left for Fontaine, leaving him alone in a house too big for only him to live in. Now, he was reliving that moment all over again, but it was worse this time because, unlike his mother, he would never see you again.

Kaveh also couldn’t stand to look inside his sketchbooks. The pages were covered in various sketches of you, and looking at them only made the anguish and guilt grow in him tenfold. He blamed himself for your death, attributing it to being his fault just like he attributes his father’s death as his fault too. No matter what anyone says to console him, he will never stop believing it’s all his fault.

Fueled by guilt and self-loathing, Kaveh spent several weeks visiting Lambad’s tavern practically every day. One could even say he lived there since the architect seldom went home. He used what little money he had to buy alcohol, especially of the stronger kind. He wanted to numb the pain in his heart and to pretend that you weren’t really gone from this world. The alcohol helped to muddle his mind until his intoxicated brain conjured happy memories of you together, and Kaveh would mumble your name in a drunken haze. Other times it didn’t help, and Alhaitham, Cyno, or Tighnari could often find a drunk Kaveh quietly crying while slumped over a table and trying their best to drag him home while listening to his drunken babble of self-loathing and regret.

It will take a long time for Kaveh to feel okay again, and even then, he will never be the same optimistic and cheerful person he used to be. You were his muse, the one who made him feel like maybe he was deserving of love after all. But with you gone, he lost his creative spark. His designs no longer held the same extravagant and artistic flair they used to. Now, they’re more tame by comparison. With your passing, you took with you the little bit of joy he felt towards the world, and it seemed more bleak than it used to be when he was with you.

Kaveh refused to seek out love after your death. He’s lost too many people he held dear and has been left alone over and over again. The pain of being left behind and of feeling like he will only bring misfortune to those he cares about, made him seal off his heart. He doesn’t want to let people close to him like that again, and neither does he want to replace you. You were, and still are, very special to him.

Despite numerous years going by after your passing, Kaveh never forgot you, and he didn’t want your memory to be forgotten either. He built an art school and dedicated it to you in honor of being the one who inspired him so much in his creative endeavors. He hopes that your name will live on and continue to inspire future generations of artists long after he is gone from the world.

🎩 Lyney Having grown up in the House of the Hearth with Lyney and Lynette, the twins were practically like family to you. Though admittedly, Lyney and you developed romantic ties rather than familial ones the more you got to know each other. It was no surprise to anyone when the two of you became a couple, and Lynette even encouraged it.

Being a member of the Fatui, you were often sent out on dangerous missions to infiltrate enemy territory and report your findings back to Arlecchino. You were good at your job and had major successfully completed missions under your belt, but even the best slip up sometimes. After infiltrating enemy headquarters, you regularly reported your findings back to the House, however, one day the correspondence stopped. You went completely silent. The thought of you being caught immediately crossed Lyney’s mind, but he was hopeful that as an experienced agent, you would manage to find a way out somehow. You always have in the past, and after having worked together with you during joint missions, he saw first-hand how capable you were. To pass the time, he focused on polishing a magic trick he wanted to show you upon your return.

Days go by, and just as the magician is about to lose his patience and run off to try and find you, news about your body washing up on a riverbank reaches his ears. The heartbreak Lyney experiences upon hearing the news is indescribable. He felt lost, disoriented, and anguished. A part of him refused to believe the facts, but after witnessing the gruesome sight of your corpse, he had no choice but to face reality.

You were dead.

Lyney wondered at length about the cause of your death, and while his own guesses made his stomach knot, the autopsy report he read a few days later made him livid. Numerous torture and abuse marks were found on your body. It seemed that the enemy had captured and tortured you, hoping to force you to spill some of the Fatui’s secrets. Judging by the severity of the most recent wounds, you must have kept quiet because more brutal torture methods were used on you until the enemy figured out they wouldn’t get anything out of you, and disposed of you. Lyney knew how loyal you were to your family. You would never betray them even at the cost of your own life, but in that moment, he really wished you would have treasured your life more. Maybe then you could have survived. Maybe then he would have had the chance to hold you in his arms and tell you he missed you while you were gone. Maybe he would have had an opportunity to show off the magic trick he created specifically for your eyes only. But now, he’ll continue to miss you until the day death comes for him too. Lyney’s initial reaction upon hearing of your torture is overwhelming fury. Lynette had to hold him back from recklessly running off to take revenge against the enemy. It took a lot of reasoning on her part, but eventually, her brother calmed down.

Once his bout of anger passed, Lyney broke down. Lynette didn’t hide her own tears as she held her brother in her arms while he cried. The siblings both missed you dearly and mourned your loss, but Lyney took your death especially hard. He felt broken. One of his most precious people was taken from him in such a cruel manner, and the mere thought of how you must have spent your last few waking hours made him feel horrible.

He was anguished and angry, and the potent concoction of negative emotions weighed down on his heart and mind. Gone was his cheerful smile and outgoing attitude, replaced with a cold and somber frown. His calculative side took center stage. Though his initial burst of outrage passed, he wouldn’t give up on his desire for revenge until the act had been carried out. Aside from the twins, Arlecchino also refused to take your death lying down. You were her precious child, someone she put in a lot of love and effort to raise, and this transgression angered her as much as it angered Lyney. Together with Arlecchino, Lyney and Lynette infiltrate enemy headquarters and make every person a part of that organization pay. The magician ensures that the perpetrators experience the same pain you went through during your torture, and by the time they’re done, not a soul is left alive.

Even after exacting revenge, Lyney barely feels a smidge better. Though your captors have been neutralized and won’t hurt anyone the way they hurt you ever again, it doesn’t satisfy Lyney. At the end of the day, all he wants is to have you back in his life. He consoles himself with pieces of your clothing. Your clothes smelled like you, and Lyney hugged one of your items every night, breathing in your scent and soaking the material with his tears as he quietly cried. It takes a long time for Lyney to get himself together and act like himself again. Though he could easily put on a fake smile for his audience, his heart still aches inside. He misses you no matter how many months go by, and Lynette has her hands full comforting him when he breaks down at night and cries about how much he wants to see you. Lyney would have had an easier time accepting your death if you had passed away more peacefully, but knowing you were tortured to death will forever haunt him.

Once he feels more like himself, Lyney incorporates the magic trick he originally wanted to show you upon your return into his magic shows. He only performs it during special occasions so it would leave a great spectacle upon his audience. It was once made to awe you, but now it awes his audience, and a part of him feels some semblance of catharsis in knowing he could inspire others to feel the same joy you made him feel using just this trick. At times like these, Lyney feels as if a part of you was still there with him, enjoying the show he secretly dedicates in your honor.

⚖️ Neuvillette

You were visiting your friend Navia in Poisson, when the Primordial Sea flooded the area and caused a great catastrophe that took the lives of many of its residents. Neuvillette was aware you were in Poisson when the disaster struck, and he tried to get there as quickly as he could to check on you. He would have arrived there immediately were it not for the pressing matters he had to settle prior. He hoped the Traveler and Paimon would find you and keep you safe since they knew you were the Iudex’s beloved.

When he finally made it to Poisson, to his morbid surprise, he found neither you nor Navia, but some Fatui members helping to mitigate the damage. When he asked about your whereabouts, he was told that nobody had seen you. Immediately, his thoughts ventured to the worst scenario, but he refused to believe in his fears until he could get confirmation. He held out hope that you were alright, and went in pursuit of Navia and the Traveler, hoping that maybe you were with them, or they knew what happened to you.

It wasn’t until he was saving Navia from getting dissolved in the Primordial Sea water, did he catch a glimpse of your face. You were trying to protect Navia from certain death, along with Silver and Meluse. At the time he was too anxious about saving Navia to fully register the implication, but an unsettling thought sprang in his mind that maybe you really were— No, he didn’t want to accept it.

When Navia regained consciousness, Neuvillette asked her about your whereabouts. Her answer pierced through him like an ice-cold lance. With tears in her eyes, Navia recounted how you were helping Silver and Meluse rescue the residents of Poisson when the Primordial Sea flooded in, and how she saw your body dissolve in the water along with her loyal subordinates with her own eyes. The news settled in Neuvillette’s stomach like a boulder, causing it to sink and make him feel nauseous. Dread filled him, but he could only muster a quiet “I see…” and stare off into the distance. He felt crushing sadness, but he wasn’t given time to properly process his emotions and your death until he managed to make it out of the ruins.

That evening, Fontaine was hit by a torrential downpour that lasted several days. The rain fell in heavy sheets, flooding the streets and urging most of the citizens to seek shelter in their homes. Only the Chief Justice had the gall to stand outside and let the rain seep and soak through his clothes.

Neuvillette let the water droplets cascade down his face, imitating the tears he wished to shed as the realization that he would never see you again settled in. It was strange. Though he was on land, each waking moment he was pursued by a constant feeling of drowning. His chest felt heavy as if burdened by a great weight that made each breath he took feel like a herculean task.

Neuvillette felt a lot of emotions he couldn’t find the words for. He was frustrated and angry that innocent civilians had died in the flood because nothing was done to prevent it. So many people died. You died. If nothing else, he wanted to get justice for your and the others’ deaths.

However, Furina refused to provide answers to his questions despite his probing and insistence that now was not the time to keep secrets that could potentially help prevent an even greater catastrophe. That was when he turned to seeking aid from his companions, in the hopes that Fontaine could still be saved. Neuvillette lost and gained many things in those few days. The citizens of Fontaine were freed of their curse, and Neuvillette had obtained a position of complete authority, however, it all came at the cost of the lives of innocent civilians, Focalors’s life, Furina’s mental state, and… your life. Those were great prices to pay, and Neuvillette mourned each and every sacrifice.

Now that he had some time to himself to process his feelings, Neuvillette recognized that what he felt was grief and longing. He wanted to see you at least one more time, to feel you in his arms again. To have you taken from him so suddenly was too painful. He never got to tell you one last ‘I love you’, and he could only hope that his words reach you wherever your consciousness might be now. Fontaine will see frequent rainfall in the coming months. It won’t be easy for Neuvillette to get over your death, and some part of him will always ache and yearn to see you again. But one thing he can do is strengthen his resolve to make Fontaine into a nation that both you and Focalors would be proud of. A nation where tragedies like these will never happen again.

🍃 Venti

Venti liked to climb up on high places like his statue in front of the Favonius church, the rooftop of the Cat’s Tail, or the great tree at Windrise. Today, you found him high up in the tree, absentmindedly strumming a new tune on his lyre. Wanting to surprise the bard, you tried your best to climb the tree as quietly as you could, but right as you were about to pop up and surprise him, the branch you were on snapped, and with a heart-stopping shriek, you plummeted down to the ground.

Your scream alerted Venti. He felt your presence before you even started climbing the tree, but he failed to foresee the danger until it was too late. He didn’t react fast enough to summon a gust of wind to safely lower you down. The sickening crunch of your skull hitting the ground made his stomach roil, and for a brief moment he felt as if the blood in his veins turned to ice. He felt frozen in place.

Snapping out of his momentary stupor, Venti rushed to your side to check on you, but the enormous pool of blood blooming around your lifeless body made him throw up.

Not again. He lost someone he loved once more. The painful emotions of losing you triggered a cascade of memories of seeing the broken body of that one boy he called a friend thousands of years ago. The same boy whose face he now wore as a way of honoring his memory and giving him an opportunity to live out his dreams of freedom through Venti.

Venti felt that same feeling of heavy emptiness once again as he cradled your lifeless body in his arms, your blood smearing the white sleeves of his shirt. One of the bard’s hands cradled your still-warm cheek, and he wept. To have you taken away so easily through such a small accident… it was too much.

Venti didn’t attend your funeral. He couldn’t bear to. However, he forced himself to watch from a distance as your loved ones gathered around your grave. He fully empathized with their grief.

In the following days, one could often find Venti at a tavern. He started with Angel’s Share, but after consecutive days of heavy drinking and drunken ramblings about how remorseful he felt and how you deserved better, Diluc put a stop to Venti’s visits. The Anemo Archon wasn’t getting any better from drinking himself into a stupor until he could barely hold himself upright. It was heartbreaking to see.

Even after being banned from the Angel’s Share, Venti would visit other taverns in the city and rinse and repeat. He so badly wanted to numb the pain in his heart and forget the awful memory of your lifeless body. Only after several bans did Venti finally stop coming to the city altogether. He disappeared for a while, and nobody was able to find him. Only after many weeks did the bard suddenly pop up in the town square with his lyre in hand.

During his absence, Venti wrote a few songs as a way to cope with his grief, and after a while, finally felt well enough to play them. As a bard, he was well-known in Mondstadt for playing cheerful and beautiful tunes, but this time his melodies were melancholic, even sad. They listened to him sing about a love he can no longer say ‘I love you’ to anymore, someone he can no longer forge new memories with and can only carry on in his heart as a memory. The music he played captured the attention of every member of the audience and touched their hearts so deeply that they, too, could feel the sorrow the bard was trying to convey through his melodies. His pain became their pain, too. The heartache was so profound, so raw and crippling, that many people couldn’t hold back from crying.

Venti wasn’t playing the songs to earn money or share his sadness with others. He was playing them for you. He hoped that his feelings would reach you wherever you were and that your memory wouldn’t fade away even if he remained the last person alive who knew of your existence. His songs will keep your memory alive in the hearts of the Mondstadt citizens, never to be forgotten.

☂️ Wanderer

You have been fighting chronic sickness for months, but despite the treatments, each week you seemed to get worse and worse. Neither the doctors of Sumeru nor even Nahida herself could figure out a cure for your condition. You were bedridden with barely any strength to move. Wanderer took responsibility for nursing you back to health by helping you get to places you needed, cooking all your meals and feeding you, as well as getting your medicine and administering it.

Despite his efforts, you could tell you wouldn’t last long. While you still had the strength to talk, you apologized to him for being forced to part from him.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed, with a frown pulling at his lips. “Rather than talk about such nonsense, use that energy to get better instead.”

He didn’t want to face the facts, to accept the reality that you could disappear from his life. But then came a day where you no longer opened your eyes when he called your name, nor stirred when he tried to shake you awake. Your body was cold and stiff and so unlike what he was used to seeing you as. The life you possessed was gone in all senses of the word.

Something in Wanderer snapped that day. Falling to his knees, he let out a guttural scream that tore at his vocal cords. He unleashed a wail that carried all the anguish and misery he’d been keeping bottled up inside for hundreds of years. He’s lost so many people he cared for in the past. Each time he met someone he grew attached to, fate would always tear them away from him, and you were no exception.

He cried bitter tears in the privacy of your shared home, cursing Fate for doing this to him over and over again. He was angry and heartbroken. Though he lacked a real heart, the sensation in his chest felt like something inside him broke into a million tiny fragments. As if sharp needles pierced through his non-existent heart and caused him to scream until he lost his voice.

He wanted revenge, but how can one get vengeance against Fate itself?

You were gone, so cruelly torn away from his side despite his best efforts to keep you alive. You were the little ray of light that never gave up on him no matter how cold he was towards you or how much he pushed you away, and helped him heal little by little. You accepted him in his entirety and wormed your way into his non-existent heart, so how dare Fate mock him like this? Wanderer truly felt as if Fate was purposely torturing him by taking away all those whom he held dear.

Helpless and anguished, Wanderer reverted to the days when he used to be Scaramouche, the sixth of the Fatui Harbingers who was infamous for his callousness and mercilessness. His roiling emotions spurred him to repeat these spiteful acts against anyone who got in his way. It was the only way he knew of how to vent these overwhelming emotions that made him feel like he was choking on his grief.

It took Nahida’s interference to calm him down and get through to him that you wouldn’t want him to be like this. The Wanderer you fell in love with wasn’t such a hateful person driven by negative emotions, and though he was loathe to admit it, the God of Wisdom was right.

Having quelled the initial burst of wounded anger, Wanderer would think more clearly about what he should do from now on. He could keep all your items, photographs, and letters, but they would never replace you, only help preserve some of the memories attached to them, which a puppet like him had no need for. He won’t forget even the smallest thing about you, not as long as he’s alive.

Wanderer becomes a regular visitor of your grave, taking care of it so your name won’t be erased from the gravestone by time too quickly. He would frequently bring your favorite foods and flowers and place them in front of your grave, before taking a seat next to it and staring off into the distance without saying a word. He did this mostly at night so he could stargaze, just like how you both used to when you were alive.

Even centuries later, when everyone who knew you took their memories of you to their graves, Wanderer will remain to watch over your final resting place, unwavering in his devotion.

🐺 Wriothesley

You accompanied Wriothesley on another one of his swims out in the open waters surrounding the Fortress. Since you weren’t a vision holder, you had to wear a diving suit to breathe, unlike your beloved Duke. You’ve had these private little swim dates a few times before, so your guard was down when you swam through some jagged areas of the Fortress’s scaffolding. The shoulder of your diving suit caught on a sharp edge of metal and tore a hole in it. The tear was fairly large, and you panicked when you felt water rush inside your suit. Wriothesley was quick to freeze the hole and pull you up to the surface to get the suit off of you, but by the time he did, it was too late. You had inhaled too much water and were unresponsive. Wriothesley tried to keep his anxiety at bay and utilized all the CPR knowledge he learned from Sigewinne to try and save your life. He breathed air into your lungs and did chest compressions with enough force to hear your ribs crack, but even after 30 agonizing minutes of trying, you wouldn’t wake up.

Wriothesley had no choice but to accept the fact you died. Wriothesley doesn’t cry for you. He’s no stranger to death. His exposure to it in his younger years made him all too aware of how easy it is to die, and that death came for all without exception. As a result, he was able to accept your death a little easier than most, but it doesn’t mean he made peace with it. The staff and inmates at the Fortress all said Wriothesley looked the same as usual even after your death. He kept up his laidback yet intimidating demeanor and busied himself with the variety of work someone in his position was required to take care of. Only Sigewinne could tell that Wriothesley was not alright despite all the strained smiles he gave everyone. The bags under his eyes grew more prominent by the day, a clear indicator he wasn’t sleeping well. She saw how he threw himself into his work, barely taking any time to rest properly, as if wanting to keep his mind busy from the horrible memory of seeing your corpse. Though he tried to mask it, in truth, your death affected Wriothesley deeply. He had frequent nightmares about watching you drown and being unable to save you, and they would keep him up at night. He usually awoke in a cold sweat, his heart pounding from intense panic and dread until his mind cleared, only to be replaced with a stone-cold reality that made the feelings of guilt come rushing back. Out of habit, he turns to your side of the bed to seek comfort in your presence but seeing it cold and empty served as yet another harsh reminder that you were gone. Wriothesley can’t sleep after his nightmares, so he opts to work out or fuss over his gauntlets to distract himself from his feelings. It takes all his self-control to keep a lid on his emotions and not become the angry, irritable mess he knows he will be if he’s not careful.

When he makes tea, Wriothesley accidentally makes two cups out of habit. One for you and one for him. Even weeks after your passing, it was still a difficult habit to break. For the first while, Wriothesley would even stop drinking your favorite tea blend because it reminded him of you. Rather than enjoy the flavor, all he tastes is bile in his throat. The flavor of your favorite tea makes him nauseous because it makes him think about how you will never taste this again or have another tea date in his office.

There was one occasion when he tried to drink your tea shortly after your death. He thought maybe the flavor would remind him of the happy times he shared with you, but all it resulted in was a broken teacup from the force of his grip, and Sigewinne fussing over his cuts and burns. He didn’t drink your favorite blend for a long time after that, only being able to find enjoyment in it again many years later when the startlingly clear memory of your death didn’t hurt him as much. Wriothesley felt lonely without you. You were the friend and confidant he told his deepest and darkest secrets about his past, the comfort he sought after a difficult day, and the soothing presence that made him feel accepted for who he was without all the embellished titles. But after your passing, the Fortress of Meropide seemed cold and gloomy, as if devoid of the warmth it once had that made him call it home. It was as if your death snuffed out the little ray of warm sunshine he felt when spending time with you.