#finished the next part of bloodshed

[losfacedevil]

It’s my last day of vacation and now my mind wants to churn out all the fics I wanted to write this week? Ma’am now you don’t have the time 😂😭

[veritasangel]

Keep me close

ft. Simon Riley pt.2 here

⋆ ˚｡⋆ fem pov ୨୧˚ warnings: nsfw content {mdni} ↣ piv, oral (reader giving), cum eating, fingering, cheating? not really (reader is price's wife but it's agreed upon)

↣ John doesn't mind sharing you with one of his best...probably gonna do a part 2 to this or maybe a series?? (@shkretart is the artist for the simon and price art)

wc: 4.3k

Simon never enjoyed breaks. His body did, sure, but not his mind. Too much time to think about everything, the pain, the bloodshed he’s drowning in. Johnny would go home to see family, Price would head home to his wife and even Gaz had a partner to return to.

They’d all discreetly offered for Simon to join, but he wasn’t one for pity so it always ended with a mumbled, “God no, I’m perfectly fine with my own company, thanks.”

And he thought he was, had convinced himself that was true, but it wasn’t and subconsciously he knew that too. Every night ended with one too many drinks and an almost drunken call to one of the boys, asking one of them to take him in.

It was a few weekends later before he eventually gathered the courage to call Price.

The phone rang once, twice...fuck, maybe he should hang up.

“Hello?”

The voice not being Price's caught him off guard momentarily, of course his wife is the one to pick it up.

“Hello? Can you hear me? Simon?”

“Hi, I- Sorry to bother you Mrs Price...Is John there?" he says a little apprehensively.

“Always so formal.” you joke. “I’ll go get him.”

You make your way through the house, before approaching John in the kitchen and mouthing

'It’s Simon…sounds sad.' you frown a little as you hand the phone to your husband.

“Simon? Is everything alright?” John says as he finishes up what he'd been doing in the kitchen.

“Yeah, jus’ checking in….” he trails off, “You uh, you see the football last night?”

“Yeah, was shit.” John says, ignoring the look you're giving him.

“Yeah….”

You glare at Price to say something more substantial.

He clears his throat, “What did you really wanna talk about?”

A beat of silence.

“...I was maybe wondering if that spare bedroom offer was still available.”

“ ‘Course it is, Si. I’m offended you even have to ask.” Price sighs, shaking his head before adding, “You want a roast tonight?”

Simon lets out a small genuine laugh, “I’ll never say no to your wife’s cooking.”

“Then come over. How long you planning on staying?”

“However, long you’ll have me.” Simon mumbles.

“In that case, may as well pack a suitcase and pick a colour swatch.” Price says, half joking. 

You know he’d honestly let Simon move in if he wanted to, he was basically family and even you adored him, dark humour and stoic mask included.

As expected by Simon, the next few days flew by, as opposed to when he was alone and just trying to get by.

Waking up every morning to a nice breakfast and good company did a lot of good for him. Every now and then he had to remind himself that you were a taken woman.

“Simon!” you beam happily, “I see you’re back from your run.” you smile softly, “I went to the market earlier today so there’s some fresh fruit in the kitchen.”

“Ah, thanks doll, you’re too sweet.” Simon smiles, eyes flittering across the hall before lingering a little too long on your sundress.

God, maybe Soap was right, I do need a partner. Is this how life would be?

He shut his thoughts off, mumbling pleasantries before heading upstairs for a shower.

He also had to control his thoughts when John came up to him one afternoon stating that he had to handle something with family so he wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.

Christ, he trusted him enough to leave him alone with his wife, the woman he keeps wrongfully fantasising about. Oh how he felt like an awful person.

But he refrained, kept reminding himself that he was a trained soldier. He wouldn’t give into such desires, let alone betray someone he calls family.

And so the rest of the day continued as normal, as did dinner.

Simon retired to the living room for the rest of the night, watching TV. Some time later you joined him, sitting maybe a little closer than usual but he brushed it off, only for you to then extend your legs onto his lap and he had to inhale a sharp breath to keep his cool.

His heart raced, and his hand twitched, eyes darting to the smooth skin of your legs resting way too close to his groin. “You alright there, love?” he asks.

“Mhm.” you nod and he can't tell if it's his imagination that he can see his own desire reflected in your eyes.

He couldn't hide the need in his own eyes either. They flickered with want, need. Simon shifted ever so slightly, trying to get comfortable. It was a lost cause, though, his cock had already hardened, the fabric of his pants hardly concealing it.

With great effort, he managed to restrain himself. He had to, after all, he was Price's friend and you were his wife.

“Have you checked your phone this evening?” you ask tenderly as you tilt your head at him.

“No...Why?” He asks curiously, hands already reaching for his phone, seeing a few messages from Price.

2 messages - Cap'n Figured you might need to let loose a little, maybe have someone take care of you for once....if you catch my drift. Oh but for the love of everything, please wrap it!! I don't think I'd ever live down the embarrassment if you got my missus pregnant before I did.

His heart skipped a beat as he read the message.

Smirking, he turned to look at you with a newfound light in his eyes. 'So that's how it was, huh?' Simon thought, his mind whirling. He knew Price well enough to know he'd planned this with you and he couldn't deny that he felt a surge of lust as a result.

"Well, well," Simon uttered. "Looks like Price gave us his blessing." his hand finally reaching out and brushing against your leg, before resting it there, chuckling at the goosebumps that ghosted your skin.

“So you guys planned this, huh? Don’t know whether to feel awkward or take the opportunity with no regrets?” He jokes, chuckling a little.

“It’s not a pity thing, jus’ wanna take care of you too.” you say softly as your eyes meet his.

“Surprised the fucker didn’t want to watch.”

“Oh he did.” you laugh softly, “He just didn’t know how into it you’d be.”

“...Maybe we’ll have to see for next time.” he winks.

"Next time? Getting a bit carried away, aren't we?" you quip.

Simon's palm grazed over your knee, tracing upwards as he leaned closer to you, the air between the two of you thickening with desire. "How do you plan on taking care of me, hmm?" He questioned, his voice low and seductive.

You grinned as you looked at him, your hand sliding up his thigh, stopping just before his crotch. "Well, I have an idea or two," you tilted your head at him, "but I need to know if you're game."

Your finger trailed along the outline of his erection, feeling the throbbing heat underneath the fabric, causing Simon to let out a sharp breath.

After getting the green light from Price, it was as though his brain had shut down, just allowing him to indulge in the moment. "I'm game," he answered, his voice husky, dripping with want. His hand moved on top of yours, guiding it towards his bulge.

"Good," you whispered, moving in as your lips hovered above his. He leaned in and you moved back slightly, just enough so that your lips wouldn't touch.

He chuckles darkly before grabbing your chin and forcing you to keep your gaze on him, "I thought you said you wanted to take care of me, hun." he says, "Don't be a tease." he warns

Simon's resolve wavered for a moment as your lips hung tantalisingly close to his. The game was almost too much to bear. But he wanted you badly, and that want became a demand. "Take care of me," he repeated, his voice gentler this time, pleading almost.

His heart raced as he felt your soft lips against his. The kiss was gentle and tender. As your tongue sought entry, he opened his mouth to allow it in, his own tongue dancing with yours, yielding to your lead. 

His breath hitched as you nibbled on his lower lip. The sensation went straight to his cock, making him shuffle in his seat. A low moan escaped from his lips as he deepened the kiss, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you closer.

The feeling of your palm against his erection through his clothing was almost too much to bear. Simon's grip on you tightened, and he groaned into the kiss. He wanted you, his cock throbbed desperately with need.

It wasn't long before Simon found himself getting carried away. His hand gripped your hip, tugging you closer, grinding his hard-on against your hand, eager for anything that could bring him closer to release.

Simon's body responded to every touch, a soft hiss escaping his throat as your tongue trailed along his jaw. His grip on you turned possessive as you moved down to kiss his neck. He gasped, and his cock twitched, desperate for your attention.

Simon's mind was a blur of lust, and all he could think of was you, your touch. He needed more, and he knew he'd crave you even more once this night was over. Price might just have to share you more often.

His head fell back, giving you full access to his now sensitive flesh, begging for more. His cock was aching so badly and he could feel the precum coating it. He felt as though he was losing control and he wanted nothing more than to feel you enveloping him.

You pull back for a moment as you tug the waistband of his sweatpants down.

His eyes flickered open, catching sight of your intent before he closed them again, basking in the feeling. A shiver ran down his spine as he felt the waistband of his sweatpants being tugged down. His cock sprang free, hard and eager, pre-cum glistening at the tip. It was thicker than John’s and the poor tip just so looked so worked up.

His breath hitched as he felt your warm, soft hand envelop his shaft. His eyes snapped open, meeting yours for a brief moment before closing once more. "God, thank you…” he murmured, his voice thick with arousal.

“I’m not God.”

A soft chuckle escaped from Simon's lips. "Fuck off." He replied, his face flushed. As you continued to stroke him, he leaned back and closed his eyes, fully submitting to your touch.

You smirk as you lean down so you're eye level with his cock, your hand still running up his shaft, brushing the pre over the tip as you lightly blew on it.

A soft moan escaped Simon's lips as you blew on his engorged tip, sending chills coursing through him. His breath hitched, his grip on his chair tightening as his knuckles turned white. "Fuck," he cursed, his head falling back once more.

He wanted more. He wanted to know what it was like to be yours, if only for a moment.

"Please...fuck, please." Simon pleads.

Your attentions had Simon close to begging, and he was hardly the kind of man to do so. Yet, here he was, desperate for your touch, needing you to take him over the edge. His hips bucked subtly, silently asking for more, demanding that you give him what he craved.

His mind raced, thinking about all the ways you could pleasure him. He wanted it all, and he needed it now. Simon liked to believe he was always in control, but right now he wasn’t so sure.

You laugh a little before kissing along his shaft, relishing in the sight of a prominent vein twitching on the underside of his cock.

Simon shivered under your touch, feeling the heat of your lips against his sensitive skin. He bit his lip, an almost inaudible whimper escaping his throat.

This was different, unlike anything he had ever experienced. He felt vulnerable to you, but he didn’t quite mind.

He had to bite his hand to stop him from shooting his cum all over your face when you'd barely even touched him. Fuck it was embarrassing, a grown man acting like a virgin over a few gentle kisses to his cock.

“Please, just– Just let me have you-”

His mind painted vivid pictures of the two of you entangled and sweaty. He wanted to give you the same pleasure you gave him. “Need to fuck you, I can’t fucking last right now.” he babbled.

Simon tried to keep his composure, but the fire inside him raged, threatening to consume him. "I need to be inside you," he panted, his body quivering. "Pleasepleaseplease... I can't- fuck, last like this."

He wasn't a man to beg, especially not for something like this, but he was helpless. Your touch had left him feeling desperate.

You looked at him as you licked along his shaft before finally taking him into your mouth. Simon's eyes widened as you took him into your mouth. His entire world focused on the incredible sensation. His entire body tensed up as your mouth worked him over.

"Fuck..." he moaned, a sheen of sweat across his face, cheeks flushed. His hips bucking slightly, yearning for more. It was almost hard to forget the man was a hardened soldier.

Each bob of your head brought him closer to his release. His moans grew louder, his movements becoming more shaky. He felt needy, desperate, even.

“Can’t cum before I’ve fucked you...” he groans. "...Need to feel you around me," Simon stammered, his voice strained. The need to feel your warmth envelop him was an intense desire. He needed to be completely consumed by you.

Yet, as you continued to focus on his cock, it seemed he was fighting a losing battle. Every trail of your tongue, your lips, your breath, brought him closer to the edge. He bit the inside of his cheek in a futile attempt to quieten himself.

His body tensed as he struggled to maintain control, his restraint quickly depleting. His mind raced as he tried to steady himself and appreciate the moment as best he could.

Simon was fully aware of what was happening, but it was like his body was betraying him, surrendering to the pleasure your mouth provided. His grip on the sofa tightened once again and a bead of sweat rolled down his temple.

The room seemed to fade away, all that existed was the direct connection between his aching cock and your skilled mouth. He was spiralling towards an inevitable conclusion.

Simon's eyes clenched tight, his body tensing as he felt the familiar build-up within him. "God-" he groaned, the sound strained and desperate. He knew he was nearing his limit, the end of his restraint.

A wave of pleasure hit him that he was powerless to resist. With a loud grunt, he let go, his cock twitching as he came, ropes of cum shooting into your waiting mouth.

Pulling away, you smiled as you looked up at him. A shudder ran through Simon's body as he came, groaning in pleasure as his hand intertwined with your free one. He stared down at you, his chest rising and falling heavily as he tried to catch his breath. He smiled weakly, a look of gratitude and appreciation in his lidded eyes.

You had given him a pleasure he never imagined possible, and he would cherish this moment.

Simon's eyes widened at the sensation of your hand returning to work on his sensitive cock. The aftershocks of his orgasm still lingered, leaving him feeling raw and needy.

He groaned, hand moving to grip your wrist as if you were the only t thing able to keep him grounded. He mumbled something incoherent, not even sure what he wanted to say with his mind racing.

Your touch was addictive, and he needed more.

“You wanted to fuck me, didn’t you?” you tease

Simon's breath hitched at your question, his eyes locking with yours. "God, yes." He confessed, the intensity in his gaze unmistakable.

A slow grin spread across his lips as his cock began to harden again. He stood up, pulling you to stand with him as his lips crashed against yours.

He was too caught up to fully undress himself or you for that matter. The kiss deepened and intensified as he pressed you up against the wall, the same wall adorned with photos of you and your husband. Your hands tangled in his hair as his free hand reached up your dress, tugging your underwear down until they pooled at your ankles. The urgency with which he did this was testament to how much he needed you.

You hand fumbled with the unit beside the two of you as you kissed. your hand roaming around the draw before reaching a condom and passing it to Simon who held onto it with one hand.

You deepened the kiss, the two of you practically breathing one another in as his fingers slid between your legs, probing your entrance, his touch both urgent and gentle. When he slipped his middle and ring finger inside, the sound was loud enough to have him grinning into the kiss.

He pulled back slightly, "You’re soaked doll," he breathed, his fingers coated in your wetness. He was aching to fill you, to take you.

"Well, I guess you don’t even need prepping," he drawled as his other hand wandered your body lovingly, despite the heat of the moment. He turned you around, your front against the wall as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your earlobe.

"Tell me you want it.” he said, the words a mixture of question and plea.

"I want this," you confirmed, your voice breathy. The vulnerability in your tone only served to heighten Simon's arousal.

He gritted his teeth, his breathing heavy as he pushed himself into you, slow at first, letting you adjust to his girth. Once fully sheathed, he held you close, his hands roaming your back before coming to rest on your hips.

His eyes closed, a low groan escaping him, "You feel amazing," he muttered as he rested his head on the back of your neck, pausing for a moment to gather himself.

Then slowly he began to move, thrusting in and out of you, setting a rhythm that built with each push. The intensity of the moment drove him wild.

The way you fit around him, the way your walls gripped his cock, it was heaven, and he wanted more. Your moans spurred him on and in this moment everything faded away for Simon. All that existed was the two of you, lost in each other.

Simon's breathing grew heavier, his thrusts becoming wilder, each one an attempt to bury himself deeper within you, to become one with you. The ferocity of his movements belied the tenderness with which he held you, as if you were a precious treasure.

“Fuck, feels like you were made for me.” he groans, “Price’ll have to watch I don’t steal you for myself.”

He chuckles as you clench around him, "You like that thought, hm?" he teases, hand taking both of your wrists in his as he held them behind your back, forcing you to rely on your tiptoes to keep you up against the wall.

His words were laced with a mix of possessiveness and adoration.He wanted to show you the affection and love you deserved, wanted to take care of you and you weren't even his. Simultaneously, he needed you to satisfy the fire within him, the passionate beast that roared to life in your presence.

In that heated embrace, Simon forgot who he was, drowning in the sheer pleasure of being with you. His thoughts blurred, and all that remained was the hunger for you.

Between thrusts, Simon teased, "He's a lucky bastard having you, ain't he? In your pretty little dresses, making his breakfast, cleaning his clothes. Such a good girl for him."

It was a mix of jealousy and admiration. He wanted to claim you for himself, to have you wait on him like that. But he was more than happy to indulge in however much or little you or John allowed him.

As his pace increased, each thrust became more fervent than the last. His thoughts were a jumble of desire. In this moment, the lines between fantasy and reality blurred, and Simon clung to this dream, hoping it would last.

He was lost in the rhythm, in the way you fit around him, in the way you responded to his every touch, in every soft sound that escaped you. There was no going back, no escape, as Simon dove headfirst into the abyss of pleasure that was you.

"He's putting a lot of faith in this condom, hell he's trusting me not to fill you up." Simon whispered in your ear, the words laden with desire. He would never actually commit to that fantasy, but he could dream.

If anything, it fuelled the fire, the knowledge that Price was trusting him to be this intimate with you. His thrusts grew more furious, each one driving him closer.

The moment was electric, and Simon found himself living for each sensation. He was chasing the edge, the precipice where pleasure surrendered to ecstasy. His hips moved with abandon, every muscle tensed, as he sought the ultimate release.

"You're mine tonight," he growled, his words filled with intent. He wanted to etch this memory in your mind, one that would leave you longing for more.

He was determined to leave an enduring mark on your soul. It was a need that had taken hold of him, and there was no going back now.

As the intensity of the moment grew, Simon could feel the pressure building within him. His thrusts grew wilder, more desperate, as he sought the release that awaited. He could sense it, feel it, just beyond his grasp.

His movements became erratic, his body trembling underneath the weight of unrelenting pleasure. A sheen of sweat coated his skin.

His grip on you tightened, holding you as he rode the wave of impending release. "Fuck, I'm gonna come," he warned, his voice thick with need.

He was at the brink of release, a long awaited one that wasn’t a result of his own hand for once. The anticipation and hunger, all leading up to this moment. 

The world around you two dissolved. It was just the two of you, caught in a symphony of lust and pleasure. Their hearts raced in unison, the rhythm of your bodies synchronised. There were no inhibitions, no boundaries, only the ever-mounting tide of ecstasy.

His body tensed, every muscle straining as the climax built. One final thrust sent him over the edge, and he released, his cum filling the condom. His free hand worked over your sensitive clit, willing you to follow behind as you cried his name, gushing around his cock.

The release was explosive, the tension that had been building between you both, finally released. He leaned in, resting against you as he lowered your wrists, arms encircling your front as he clung to you. It was a moment neither would forget, one he would think about for a long time.

The aftershocks of his orgasm rippled through him, his body still connected to yours. He held you close, as if he were afraid to let go.

"That was... something else," Simon managed to mumble, the words breaking through the haze of post-orgasmic euphoria that washed over him. A satisfied grin spread across his face, the look in his eyes a mix of contentment and pride.

He had claimed you in a way he never thought he could, and it was exhilarating. Slowly, he began to pull out, but his hands lingered on you, as if drawn to the warmth of your body.

Despite the quick encounter, Simon knew he had found something that he wanted to explore further. For now, however, he was content to simply bask in the afterglow. He exhaled a deep breath as he pulled out from you.

You took a deep breath, the action drawing Simon's gaze. As you turned around, he watched you lean against the wall, your eyes meeting his. For a moment, there was a comfortable silence between the two of you.

Simon's heartbeat slowed, but his chest still rose and fell rapidly. He stared at you, trying to find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions swirling within him. This encounter had changed something between you, there was no doubt about it.

"He's a lucky man." he says resting his forehead on yours.

You let out a small laugh as you brush some hair out of Simon's face.

"And I'm lucky to be married to him."

Simon smiles as he reaches down, pulling your panties back up, along with his sweatpants."I'll have to call him in a bit to say my thanks." he quips, "Buttt, he's not gonna be back until late tomorrow and I wanna' experience fully what it'd be like to be yours." He smirks down at you, his lips hovering dangerously above yours, "You know, if you're game."

༄ cod m.list ༄ reblogs are appreciated if you like it.

© veritasangel ↣ 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴

[luminnara]

Unheavenly Creatures Part Two | Feyd-Rautha x reader (NSFW)

PART ONE | PART THREE

Summary: in the wake of an arena victory on his name day, Feyd rautha blows off some steam with his darlings.

MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Read this fic on AO3 under the same account name, luminnara!

Warnings: group sex/foursome, exhibitionism, voyeurism, mentions of cannibalism, canon typical violence, it’s Feyd-Rautha it’s not all sunshine and rainbows, bloodplay, biting, marking, possessiveness, the whole shebang

Word count: 4.6k

Note: I have been desperately trying to find any info I can on the harpies, and I have not managed much 🥲 so pls enjoy my headcanons and made up names ily bye

Tags: @austinswhitewolf @aeilani @maneater17 @serrendiipty @belovedbastardremus @the-dark-dreamer25

It was a day of celebration, and the entire palace—no, city—was abuzz. Inside, a feast was nearly finished, a kitchen full of cooks working day and night for a week to prepare the na-Baron’s favorite dishes. Outside, beneath a black sun, the citizens of Giedi Prime sat cheering in the arena, drinking in the sight of their beloved Feyd-Rautha as he gutted the last of the Atreides warriors. Even as you made your way back to the palace, the roar of the crowd was deafening, their penchant for bloodshed seemingly increased tenfold on this special day.

“Come,” one of the women next to you said, her voice a high, breathy hiss.

“Feyd will want us,” the other smiled, her black teeth contrasting dramatically against her near-white skin.

Feyd-Rautha’s darlings had been quick to accept you as one of them. You suspected it was partly because they didn’t dare question him, though you had seen occasional instances of what could be considered mild defiance from them in your short time on Giedi Prime. They, and you, were permitted to act out on occasion, though none of you were foolish enough to do so in a way that would cast an ill light on your beloved na-Baron. And he was your beloved—with each passing day, you grew more and more comfortable with the Harkonnen heir, and more and more certain that he adored you.

“We will feast on Atreides tonight,” Issa sighed.

“Feyd will reward us,” Yarina said, looking down at you with a grin.

You returned it.

As the three of you walked down the hall, moving as a single, predatory unit, Harkonnen and guests alike were quick to move out of the way. You heard the whispers, caught the curious, sometimes shocked stares as you passed. Feyd’s darlings were rarely seen wandering, and as such, even members of the Harkonnen nobility found themselves stunned by the sighting.

You kept pace with the others as you walked, mindful of the carefully curated air they liked to keep about them. They were both exquisite examples of Harkonnen beauty, equally as dangerous as they were lovely, and though you still did not know much about who they had been before Feyd chose them as concubines, you enjoyed their company. It was a good thing, too; now, you spent nearly every moment with them, and when you weren’t with them, it was because you were alone with Feyd-Rautha.

Some nights, he called you to his bed, having his way with you, whispering things in your ear that he would never say during the daylight hours. Things he reserved only for you. At night, Feyd-Rautha could be almost kind, and you came to suspect that he loved his darlings, in his own way; otherwise, why would you all be allowed to touch him, to pleasure him, to feast with him?

You had never expected that you might become a concubine for the heir of one of the Houses. As a child, you had often dreamt of becoming a princess and being swept away through the stars to wed your handsome prince. But you were no noble; your parents bore no titles, and the closest you were ever meant to come to greatness was when you served your former masters. Was it luck that had brought you where you were today, freely roaming the Harkonnen palace while you awaited your beloved Feyd-Rautha? Or had fate played a trick on you, giving you close to what you had always wanted while still refusing you any title or noble birth? Perhaps it was better this way; perhaps you would enjoy your life as a concubine far more than you would if you had been a lady of the court.

Perhaps the universe had known you would one day commit violent acts, and planned a fitting role for you. If you hadn’t killed your father all those years ago, would you even be on Giedi Prime now? Would Feyd-Rautha had cared at all about the handmaiden who had wandered too far? Perhaps he would have killed you, seeing you as expendable. He would have slit your throat, and his uncle the Baron would have pretended he cared enough to apologize to the Lord and Lady you had served. They would have gotten someone new, and you would have been easily and quickly disposed of.

Perhaps Feyd would have fed you to his darlings.

How strange the wheel of fate was.

“What are you thinking about?” Issa asked you, tilting her head as she looked at you curiously. Her voice was always breathy and alien, a dreamlike quality within it. It matched her appearance and yet it didn’t, making her seem even less human than her black teeth and eyes did.

“Yes, you seem so far away,” Yarina agreed, her accent more akin to the na-Baron’s than Issa’s. You had been on Giedi Prime long enough now to recognize differences in accent and dialect, and had begun trying your best to imitate Feyd’s in an attempt to better fit in. You had no idea if it was working or not, but no one had commented on it yet, which you took to be a good sign.

“My House allied with House Harkonnen,” you said as the three of you neared Feyd-Rautha’s chambers.

“Your former House,” Issa corrected, raising a hand to stroke your cheek. “You are Harkonnen now.”

“I do not look Harkonnen.”

“You do.” Yarina pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

This was normal with them, you had come to learn; they touched casually and constantly, always in contact with each other and now you by default.

“There is no doubt my former Mistress, or at least her husband, is visiting for the celebration.” You said.

“Perhaps our lovely Feyd-Rautha will kill them for you,” Yarina offered.

“Perhaps our lovely Feyd-Rautha will allow us to kill them,” Issa grinned.

You did not know if you wanted that to happen.

You followed them through the door and into Feyd’s living quarters, settling on the large bed while you waited for him. You could imagine him stalking through the halls, bright red Atreides blood painting his chest and face as he hurried back to you. He would kill or maim anyone who stood in his way or tried to slow him down. He was always wild after a fight in the arena, and he always came to you hot and hard and ravenous.

You hoped today would be no exception.

“He must hurry,” Issa pouted as she lounged next to you. “I’m growing hungry.”

“He will come,” Yarina sighed. “He would never let us starve.”

You weren’t sure if they were talking about sex, or food, or both, but you always marveled at the way they spoke of Feyd. They knew how dangerous and callous he could be, but to the harpies, that was normal. If he was a lion, then they were the lionesses; just as cunning, just as regal, just as hungry. Whenever you walked alongside them, you learned more of how to be like them. You learned how to keep your head held high in a room of Harkonnen men, confident that none but Feyd-Rautha would dare to touch you lest they lose a limb or their life. You learned how to stomach the violence that the na-Baron enacted so frequently, and even how to anticipate it eagerly. You had changed in your time on Giedi Prime, and you were becoming more and more like your fellow concubines by the minute.

When you finally heard heavy, determined footfalls outside, you perked up. The door opened not a moment later, revealing a bloodied Feyd-Rautha, his chest heaving and his gaze dark as he crossed the room, eyes glued to you. There was no time to be scared before he was upon you, cupping your face in both hands as he kissed you hungrily, greedily, sharply biting at your lip. You gasped involuntarily and he was quick to force his tongue past your teeth, exploring your mouth while a hand moved to squeeze at your breast.

You felt a soft hand press against the back of your neck as one of the other harpies held you, her body supporting you as Feyd-Rautha pushed you down. The other moved onto her knees, undressing him quickly before leaning in to lick blood off the side of his face.

He moved to catch her lips in his and you gasped for air, heart racing as hands pulled at your dress. Craning your neck, you saw that Issa was behind you, her hands now massaging your breasts as she leaned over you.

Feyd easily threw Yarina down next to you, the bed rocking slightly. He paused, panting as he stood and looked down at his three darlings, all still clothed while he was bare. His full lips curled into a smirk, eyes raking over your bodies as he crawled over you once more.

“This must go,” he said simply, taking a fistful of your dress and pulling.

One of the others sucked in an excited breath, quickly taking the torn scraps and tossing them to the floor.

Feyd-Rautha dove for your throat, leaving open-mouthed kisses against the soft flesh as his strong arms caged you in. Someone’s hand slipped between your thighs and you opened your legs obediently, feeling slender fingers stroking you as you were prepared to take the na-Baron.

It wasn’t the first time you had all been together like this. After you had settled in and grown more comfortable with the others, Feyd had permitted them to watch as he bedded you. They had both been fascinated by the small amount of body hair Feyd chose to let you keep, and you had been fascinated by the way no one, not even Feyd-Rautha, had touched you intimately without permission, or at least without being expressly told not to.

This wasn’t the first time you had felt those fingers inside you. When the three of you were alone, the others taught you how to please Feyd-Rautha. They had perfected it to a science, and it reminded you of some of the rumored Bene Gesserit teachings you had heard of; secretive, calculated, confident. Always in control, even when it seemed that they were not. You had been surprised to learn that the na-Baron was vulnerable in front of his concubines, shocked, even, by what you had seen when he took them to bed; for he was not always demanding and petulant, but also subservient. The others knew how to give him what he truly wanted and needed, and that was sometimes the permission to be a different man while behind closed doors.

Today, though, that was not what he wanted nor needed. Today was a day for chaos, for Bacchanalia. Today, Feyd-Rautha’s feral energy was driving him into a frenzy, teeth sinking into whatever he could find as he marked you with his bites over and over.

“Yes,” you gasped as fingers pushed deeper into you. “Oh, yes…”

Feyd tore himself away from your neck to devour another’s lips, his hips grinding against yours as a pair of hands wrapped themselves around his cock and began stroking. The bed was a tangle of limbs and the air was heavy with breathy moans, no one quite sure of where anyone ended and anyone else began.

When you felt the head of his cock prodding at your entrance, you moaned, and it came out almost choked. There, surrounded by so many bodies, you felt hot and slick all over, already sweating before the real work had even begun. Your voice was thick in your throat as you begged for him, pleading with him to please fuck you, please use you…and he obliged, because you were saying exactly the right things to make him drunk with lust.

“Feyd,” you whispered, hands searching for him.

“M’darling,” he groaned as he pressed his face into Issa’s neck, the sound guttural and primal.

“Please,” you whimpered as Yarina ran her hands over your front. Your thighs tensed in an attempt to soothe the needy ache between them, but Feyd-Rautha was in the way, like a solid tower of muscle and flesh that refused to give. “Feyd please!”

He was faring no better than you. His cock ached and wept as it slid over your lips, now wet with your own arousal and throbbing with need as blood pooled in your groin. With each teasing thrust of his hips you grew more desperate, breaths coming in whiny pants as you huffed and begged, chest heaving as your back arched up off of the bed.

As Feyd-Rautha allowed himself to be guided into you, he groaned that deep, heady groan, the one that always had you melting and turning to putty in his hands. You gasped at the feeling of his cock sinking deeper and deeper, slowly, until his skin brushed yours and you swore you could feel him in your womb.

When his hips rocked back you let out a strangled moan, and when he pushed into you once more you made a noise that would be considered filthy back on your home planet. Feyd-Rautha had a tendency to bring those noises out of you, and fill your head with thoughts that some would be disgusted by. As he fucked into you with ever-increasing brutality, though, he reminded you why you were so happy living with him now. Looking up into his dark eyes that watched you while his lips brushed over another woman’s shoulder as she held him, you felt nothing but lust and glee and adoration. Sharing him was easy when you were part of a set like this, and when you were all together as one moving, breathing creature.

His gaze was intense. You knew he loved watching you as he pleasured himself with you. Sex was like war for him, each bedding a conquest, each fuck a battle. You were never his enemy, though; you were his prey.

And you enjoyed being caught.

“Feyd,” the harpy behind you called in her hissing voice.

He tore his lips from Yarina’s flesh, leaning over you as his hips continued thrusting, meeting Issa above you. He attacked her hungrily, hands gripping her roughly as his speed movements grew more erratic. You knew he was becoming more and more frenzied by the sighs and moans, his kisses turning to bites. You watched, enraptured, as he sank his teeth into her shoulder, a bead of dark blood running down her breasts and dripping onto your cheek.

Yarina made an excited sound and dove around Feyd-Rautha, intent on licking it up. Before she could, he released Issa, shoving her aside as he snarled at Yarina, hands coming down on other side of your head as he caged you in once more.

She hissed at him, jealous and hungry, moving instead to suck at the wound the blood had oozed from. The na-Baron huffed a ragged laugh, baring his black and bloody teeth as he grinned at them, then down at you.

“You will have your turn,” he said to them while looking at you. “You will never go hungry.”

You knew he was speaking of both literal and sexual appetites, and that he meant it; there was plenty of blood and plenty of him to go around, and he was incredibly good at balancing his attentions between all three of you. Though his concubines were meant to serve him, at times it seemed as though that was achieved by him serving you—ensuring that all of you were happy, proving that you were well cared for in all ways. When his darlings were happy, Feyd-Rautha was happy. You could almost call it love.

His love was harsh, though; as he gazed down at you, you felt as if you were the only one in the universe, drawn in to those dark eyes, and you obediently turned your head and bared your throat to him. He relished the sight, and the willingness, and the vulnerability. He could kill you so easily like this, with his cock buried inside you and his teeth in your flesh. A part of him longed to spill your blood everywhere; you knew because he had said so before.

But he wouldn’t kill you.

You were his.

And he was shockingly gentle with his things, reverent when it came to their care. His knives, lovingly and proudly displayed on the wall, another hidden in the bed in case of emergency, were always sharpened. His favorites were sharpened by him, because he trusted no one else with them, much they same as how he trusted no one else with you.

As his teeth sank into you, he moaned, relishing the feeling of having you there in his jaws. He could crush you if he really tried, if not with his teeth then with his hands. But as he held you close and swept his tongue over the sore mark he had left, you knew he never would. You were safe with him, as odd as that felt.

“You are so beautiful like this,” he breathed as you gazed up at him.

“You are as well,” you replied, smiling at the admission.

He kissed you, deeply and seriously, not a hint of those teeth. It was pure, in a way, just like his care for you was; not pure in the innocent sense, nor the good sense, but pure in that it was simple and primal. It wasn’t evil. It wasn’t overtly just. It simply was.

Then, he nipped at your lower lip, sharply enough to draw blood, and he sucked at it greedily. You felt a tingle in your core, something uncoiling within you. When you brought your legs up and hooked your heels around him, he pushed into you even further, as if he wanted to force himself inside your very skin. When he dropped his head next to yours, you knew he was close—and when he bit into you again, you shrieked, and you knew you were close as well.

“Fuck,” he growled against you. “Move.”

You immediately unlatched your ankles and he pulled out, painting your front in his seed. Marking you as his once more.

He tilted his head as he looked at you. You writhed beneath him, hips bucking as you searched for him, so close to your own end and yet now feeling devoid and empty.

“Shh, pet,” he cooed, reaching between your legs. “I will care for you.”

You were nearly in tears as you watched him, far beyond the ability to speak coherently as he toyed with your swollen clit. His mouth moved to your inner thigh and he bit, drawing blood, leaving a trail of marks. The sounds that left your throat were desperate and wanton, echoing off the high ceiling of his chambers as Feyd-Rautha made quick work of you. Your pleasure was agony and beauty, and as he dragged you down over the edge, your voice felt hoarse from your cries and moans.

Anyone passing by in the corridor would hear.

You did not care.

You would never be ashamed of the sounds you made when Feyd-Rautha pleasured you, and as he bent down to swipe his tongue over you and lap at your wetness, you felt a smug sense of achievement. There was the na-Baron, on his knees, tending to his low-birth, off-planet concubine.

He pressed a kiss to the deepest bite mark. “Exquisite.”

Then, you were gently moved aside, and he began anew with one of the others. Though he was selfish, your pleasure was his, and he worked through the three of you however he pleased, always ensuring you were sated. You watched in fascination as he made them writhe, and when he allowed his own skin to be broken, you sucked at the wound, tasting the strange Harkonnen blood on your tongue and appreciating the fact that you were probably the only person from your home planet to have ever been given the chance.

How strange, the things you appreciated now.

-0-

“Something troubles you tonight,” a rough voice commented.

You turned your head to look at its owner. “Why do you say that?”

“You aren’t in bed with the others.” Feyd-Rautha approached you, coming to stand behind you.

He was right; you had initially found sleep to come easily after a long day of celebrations and feasting, your aching body in desperate need of rest. But after some time you had awoken, and it was impossible to close your eyes again. So you had dressed yourself in a black robe and slipped away, escaping to the balcony window down the corridor.

“My apologies,” you mumbled, looking down at the railing.

His chest brushed your back as his hands gripped your elbows. “You shouldn’t be out alone.”

“I know, but—“

“I was worried.”

His admission made you pause. When you glanced up at him, you saw that he was serious, jaw tense as he looked down at you.

“You were?” You asked, staring at him with wide, black eyes.

“I was.” His voice was stern. “It is not safe.”

“I’ve wandered these halls before,” you said, a hint of amusement in your tone. “Even before I joined you.”

“You were a guest.” He said. “I was your greatest threat then.”

“I wasn’t afraid of you.” You jutted your chin up towards him.

“I know,” he grinned. “When you told how best to spill your guts so as not to ruin the meat, I knew.” Then, he grew serious once more. “I also knew I must have you, and no one else would touch you.”

“No one here would dare.” You said haughtily. “They know better than to play us.”

“That is not what I worry about, my darling.” Feyd-Rautha placed his hands on the railing in front of you, leaning his chin on the top of your head as he looked out over Giedi Prime. “I am the heir to the Harkonnen throne.”

“You’re an important man,” you furrowed your brow. “What of it? Does that not guarantee me protection?”

“You are a target.”

“…na-Baron, I am a concubine, not a bride.” You scoffed. “There would be no reason for any political adversary to—“

“Feyd.” He growled.

“Wh-what?”

“Call. Me. Feyd.”

You gulped. “I-I’m sorry, Feyd.”

“Don’t…” he heaved a sigh, steadying himself. “Don’t apologize, darling.”

He was silent for a moment, and you weren’t sure whether to feel safe or uncomfortable.

“All of Giedi Prime knows how important my darlings are.” He continued. “You are safe when you are with me. But I cannot guarantee that safety when you are alone.”

Feyd-Rautha turned his head, leaning his cheek against you. It was an oddly intimate movement; in fact, the entire situation felt more akin to one that should take place with husband and wife, not murderous na-Baron and concubine.

“I am only a concubine,” you said again, voice small.

He barked a cruel laugh. “Is that what you tell yourself?”

You winced at the harsh sound. “It is the truth.”

“My darlings,” he began, his voice low, anger simmering just below its surface, “are much more to me than simple concubines.” He turned you in his arms, forcing you to lean back against the railing. “Surely you know this…or do you turn your nose up at me?”

You recognized the glint of anger in his eyes and felt panic rising. He couldn’t really think you hated him, could he? “Feyd, no…”

He gritted his teeth as he glared down at you. “The little off-world pet, too good for the likes of the barbarian prince…I know what the Great Houses say about me.”

His hands drifted down to grab at the thin fabric of your robe, grabbing it in bunches as he hiked it up. He paused for a moment and you realized he was listening, for your quickening breaths and heartbeat, and you watched as something in his eyes shifted.

“They call me psychotic.” He nosed at one of the bite marks on your neck. “What do you think, darling? Are they correct?”

“Y-yes, Feyd.” You stammered, both frightened and excited by the game you now realized he was playing.

He made a thoughtful noise as a hand slipped past your robe, fingers finding your swollen, used folds and plunging inside. “What else?”

“Th-they say you are bloodthirsty,” your breath hitched as his thumb brushed your clitoris.

“Am I?”

“Yes, Feyd,” you gasped at the addition of another finger.

A sick smile twisted itself onto his face. “What do they say about me on your home planet, darlin?”

“That you are v-violent,” you steadied yourself with a hand on his bare chest as your thighs trembled. “That you kill without second thought. That you are cruel and crave violence with every breath.”

Some of it you had made up; truly, you had never heard anyone on your planet speak in great length about the na-Baron of Giedi Prime. In fact, most people on most planets probably didn’t even know who he was. But for the sake of his ego, and for the hand between your thighs to continue its work, you exaggerated, and it worked. Despite a long day of fighting and fucking and enjoying spice, Feyd-Rautha was awake, attentive, and ravenous.

“And what does my darling think?” He asked, rubbing your clit as he twisted his fingers inside you.

“I-I think—!” You gasped, eyes wide at the sensation, wetness pooling around his hand, “Feyd—!”

“Answer me,” he purred, amused.

“I think that you are all that and more!” You blurted, tears pricking the edges of your modified eyes.

“Good pet,” he caught your lips in a kiss and focused his efforts on your clitoris, allowing and encouraging you to reach your peak on his hand.

And you did, of course you did. You always finished with Feyd, oftentimes before him. As your orgasm overtook you, he breathed you in, devouring you in his adoration.

As you came down, he leaned back, pulling his hand away and watching your flushed face as he licked the taste of you off of his fingers.

“Delicious,” he rumbled, looking at you with a hunger in his eyes.

Then, he placed his hands on your shaky hips and turned you, and before you had even caught your breath, his cock was inside you for the second time that day. He squeezed your breast as he fucked you, pressing kisses along your spine that seemed far too gentle for the na-Baron, and again, you marveled at the way he treated his darlings.

“Do you see now?” He panted in your ear. “Do you see your importance? Only my darlings do this to me.”

Only his darlings made him so feral and so tame at the same time, because while he bit and tore and raged with you, he refused to truly break his favorite things.

“And you take me so well,” he growled, spending himself inside of you with a grunt.

Feyd leaned against you, pressing a kiss to your temple. You felt comfortable there, within the safety of his body. Nothing could harm you when you were with him; you were one of his darlings, and now, you were certain that he adored you.

“Come,” he said, pulling himself out of you and straightening up.

“Bed?” You asked as he easily swept you into his arms, carrying you back to his chambers.

“A bath,” he decided. “Then bed, with the others.”

And you smiled as he held you, so secure against his chest. Feyd-Rautha was everything you had said and more—he was a lover, as well, in his own way.

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Your Friendly Neighbor

Pairing: John “Soap” Mactavish x introvert!reader

Warnings: slight angst, fluff, horrible Scottish (I tried), Soap mainly goes by John

Words: 3k

Synopsis: Soap comes home from leave and realizes he has a new neighbor…

Based off this post by @fortunatelyuniquepeach check it out. basically just Soap with an introverted/shy/maybe social anxiety reader

You are currently reading part one

Soap didn’t particularly like going back home when he was on leave. 

Nothing was wrong with the neighborhood he lived in, in fact, it was picture perfect compared to the shit he’s seen in the countries he’s been deployed to. The neighbors were nice to him whenever he was home, especially since it was a very small neighborhood with only a handful of people living in it, rent was affordable and the place wasn’t falling apart, and the neighborhood was quite beautiful as well as quiet. 

For most people, this was their dream place of living. A good neighborhood to bring up a family and perhaps get away from the everyday stress that was life; being surrounded by kind people and the ability to walk to a few local pubs without issue, sounded like it was straight out of a fairytale. A lot of people would kill to live in a place like this.

Soap hated it.

He didn’t hate the people who lived around him, don’t mistake him, but the lack of movement and noise cut through him more than any bullet could. He was used to the chaos of a battlefield, used to the violence of war that killed men without mercy and the constant bloodshed that surrounded him. 

The apple pie life just wasn’t who he was anymore.

He always told himself that he didn’t belong in the calm and quiet life of normalcy and believed that it wasn’t for him either, not after what he’s seen. He belonged on the battlefield, covered in someone else’s blood.

“John, you’ve been working out here all morning!” Ms. Brown, one of Soap’s elderly neighbors who watched his flat for him when he was gone, scolded him as she stepped out on her porch. “You just got back.”

“I’m almost done.” Soap smiled up at her as he wiped the sweat from his brow. 

He was dirty from the sweat and grass covering him from having mowed her entire lawn the moment he had put his things down in his flat. He had been too worked up and wired from work still but her lawn needed to be done, so instead of taking the rest he needed, he went to work.

“I’ll get your money.” Ms. Brown said and he quickly shook his head.

“S’alright-”

Ms. Brown was gone before he could even finish his sentence and he couldn’t help but frown as he realized that he was going to be forced to accept money he didn’t want. He could never try to justify “stealing” money from an old woman even after he decided to become an impromptu landscaper.

He sighed, wiping the sweat off his face with his shirt before he pulled the lawnmower into the garage. He tried his hardest to clean himself up while sweeping the grass off the pathway, but the cut blades stuck to him like glue no matter how many times he tried to shake off his clothes or smack it off his hands.

Soap would’ve used the hose to wash himself, and nearly did, if he hadn’t been distracted by a car driving by. Normally he wouldn’t have thought anything of it but the car turned into the driveway of the flat that was right next to his, the one that hadn’t had anyone living in it the entire time he's lived in his flat.

He had a new neighbor.

He was expecting someone much older than you, since almost the entire neighborhood was made up of the elderly, but when you stepped out of the car he couldn’t help but stare at you with wide eyes.

You were young, probably the same age as him, and quite good looking, though he was just more focused on the fact that someone had moved in beside him and he didn’t even know. 

You were oblivious to him as you walked to the back of your car and opened the trunk. You began to pull out groceries, stacking as many of them on your arms as you can, and dropped them on your doorstep. You were trying to make it one trip, but there were just too many and before Soap had even realized it, he was crossing the street. Before he knew it he was standing behind you.

“When’d ye move in?” He greeted you a little loudly.

You nearly dropped the groceries in your hands as you stared at him with wide eyes. You took him in, looking at the sweat and grease stains covering his clothes along with the mass amounts of grass stuck to him, including in the shaggy mohawk that sat on top of his head.

You looked uncertain and caught off guard especially as he leaned closer to you.

He couldn’t help it. He was too curious for his own good and up this close he could see how beautiful you really were. He tried not to stare, he could see you glancing away from him awkwardly as if you were trying to find a way out of the sudden conversation you were put in, but he was strangely enamored by you.

You opened your mouth a few times trying to find the right words to say as he waited patiently for you to say something.

“...Last week?” You answered in a soft tone as you stared at him.

“Oh, well I’m yer neighbor right next to ya.” He gestured to the other flat. “We share a wall, I just got back this mornin’, must’ve been after you left.”

You nodded as he continued to explain how he could’ve missed you this morning, though you weren’t catching most of it. In fact, you were having a hard time understanding what exactly he was saying and you could only catch a few words here and there, making it so you had to piece together what he was saying.

You stood there and shifted on your feet as you glanced at your flat a few times.

The more he spoke, the more confused you looked but Soap was too caught up in talking to you that he didn’t notice. What he did notice however, was that you were starting to struggle to hold the groceries in your hands so he immediately turned his attention to it.

“Need help?” He offered, gesturing to the groceries in your hands. “Here.”

Before you could really even protest, he took the groceries in your hands, and the rest in your car, and walked towards your front door without struggle. He picked up the ones that you had placed down by the door as well, not at all bothered by the weight of the straps against his skin as he waited for you to let him.

“Do ya like the neighborhood?” He wondered as you came up and unlocked the front door to your flat. 

“It’s nice.” You stepped inside your apartment. “Everyone’s friendly.”

You went to take the groceries back from him but Soap instead stepped inside with a flash of a smile, leaving you staring at him completely dumbfounded. You weren’t particularly looking for a chat, especially when you were still in the moving process.

Soap glanced at all of the boxes still stacked in your flat and the disarray of items strewn across every surface. He didn’t really pay much attention to it as he wandered into the kitchen and set the groceries down on the counters, waiting for you as he took in your flat.

Standing inside your kitchen gave him a strange feeling, a better strange feeling, than his entire flat ever could. Maybe it was because he hadn’t really stepped inside his flat or maybe it was because yours looked far more lived in than his. There was personality, your personality, everywhere and he could just imagine you piddling around making a lot more noise than he ever could by himself.

You’d make lunch and maybe sit in the living room, maybe even put something on the telly while you do it, filling up the empty space with life. How often would you do laundry and does your washer squeak the same way his does when he puts a load in it?

He wasn’t sure why the thought of you doing normal things in your own flat made him feel warm on the inside but he quickly pushed it away when you stepped into the kitchen. 

“I’m sorry about the mess…” You trailed off as you gestured to the many boxes stacked in the kitchen. 

“Movin’s a hassle.” He dismissed you, completely unbothered and in fact feeling more happy about it than anything else.

Soap expected you to say something but you didn’t. He watched as you stood in front of him while you fidgeted with your keys between your fingers while you awkwardly avoided eye contact with him. The silence dragged on and expected you to do something about it, to start unloading your groceries to where they needed to be but you shifted on your feet as if you were debating on doing it.

He watched you for a moment, not really understanding why you were being so quiet when he finally came to his senses.

The fact that Ms. Brown had failed to mention to him this morning that you had moved in, said enough about how much you spoke to the neighbors so of course you were going to be a little awkward when he had basically barged inside you home to help you, in good faith, when you most likely had just wanted to be alone.

He couldn’t help the slight burning feeling he felt across the back of his neck before he ran a hand through his shaggy mohawk.

“I’m John, by the way.” He outstretched his hand for you to take with a warm smile. “Forgot to introduce myself when I was helping ya.”

You introduced yourself and very hesitantly took his hand to shake. He didn’t squeeze or shake very hard despite the fact that having your softer hand against his making him involuntarily smile as a shiver nearly ran up his spine. 

He definitely didn’t want to scare you off now or make things worse between the two of you when you were going to be neighbors for the foreseeable future. He wasn’t too worried however, if he could make Ghost forgive him for the many times he did the same thing, then he could make it up to you.

“I got excited, ya know? Seeing that I had a new neighbor and forgot that not everyone’s as chatty as me.”

“It’s okay…thank you for helping with the groceries.”

Soap nodded and stopped himself from saying anything else so he could give you the peace you wanted. He went to make his way out of the kitchen, about to give you a goodbye, when his boot connected with a bucket full of water that sat in front of the sink.

His eyebrows knitted together when he looked down to see that there were a bunch of damp towels also sitting on the floor by the sink as well. He crouched down to see that the pipe was in fact broken with a large crack in it.

“I’ve been meaning to call somebody.” You said but Soap tutted and shook his head.

“Ah, no, let me. I’ll pop over, get my tools and fix ya up.” He turned to look at you with a grin without even thinking about it. “Free of charge.”

You chewed on your lip and looked as if you wanted to protest but you didn’t, which made him smile even more.

He rushed over to his flat in no time, unsure of why he was really this eager to help you out, and grabbed his tools. Before you knew it, he was underneath your sink fixing the pipe as if this was his job rather than the heinous shit he has done over the years. 

There was a smile stuck on his face as you put your groceries away while he worked. He wasn’t sure why, even as he chatted your ear off about the neighborhood, not expecting you to reply but not wanting to end the conversation with you. 

The little hums of interest and short replies from you were enough for him to keep him going. He couldn’t help but be reminded of Ghost but you were much different, a lot warmer and less rough around the edges which was more inviting than his lieutenant but not any less interesting to speak to. There was so much he wanted to know about you, so much he wanted to ask but he stopped himself because he didn’t want to overwhelm you.

“Got any friends here yet?” He wondered and peered at you from under the sink.

“I haven’t really had the time.” You looked a little unsure, maybe even embarrassed as you avoided looking at him.

“Well I’ll be around for a little while, so we’ve got plenty of time.”

You stared at him with knitted eyebrows and opened your mouth to say something as he checked to make sure the patch job held up even though he was confident it would. He ran the water in the sink and frowned when it was ice cold against his fingers, sending you a quick disapproving glance as if you had neglected to tell him about it.

“Gonna freeze yourself to death with that.” He shook his head and made his way to the water heater.

“You really don’t have to-”

“You’re off your head for thinking I’ll leave you without hot water.”

Soap was quick with fixing up your water heater and made sure to make it as hot as possible without racking up your bills. Seeing the grateful and relieved look in your eyes when tested the water made his chest warm with pride.

He would’ve stayed to chat your ear off more, he didn’t want this to be the only time he saw you or got to speak with you. He hoped that you wouldn’t close yourself off in your flat or only give him short polite answers if he ever caught you outside, he didn’t want that.

He wanted much more from you, a lot more than just being neighbors who occasionally waved at each other and that was it.

“My work here’s done.” He hid his disappointment behind a wink that made you swallow hard. “For now.”

“Thank you so much.” You gave him a small, but genuine smile that had him staring at your lips for a little longer than he should. “How much do I owe you?”

“Nothin’.”

“I can’t not pay you.”

Soap chuckled and shook his head. There was no way in hell he would ever think to take your money, no matter how pretty you looked when you gave him a pleading look as if you wanted to burn your hard earned cash on something like this. He could tell that you weren’t going to take no as an answer but he was prepared for something like that.

He hummed and asked for a piece of paper and a pen. When you gave him something, he quickly scribbled his number down on it and gave it to you, stifling a laugh when you looked up at him surprised.

“If ya really want to pay me, call me when ya need help or when ya want to chat.” He offered and you stared intensely at the piece of paper. “No sense in keeping yourself lonely ‘specially here, Ms. Brown won’t let ya.”

“Thank you, John.” You smiled again.

Soap wasn’t sure why hearing his name come out of your mouth made him feel…different. He didn’t throw his call sign around in this neighborhood, that’s what everyone here knew him as, and yet the moment the name slipped off your tongue it was like he had been pulled back into reality.

Suddenly he was all too aware of the fact that he hadn’t given himself a break since he got back. Exhaustion pulled on his muscles and on his mind, there was nothing buzzing inside of his mind that told him he had to keep working.

It made him tense up. He didn’t like that, he didn’t want to stop moving, he had to do something or else he was sure he would fall apart at the seams.

“I’ll see you around, hen.” He kept a smile on his face, hiding the knots in his stomach.

Before long he was standing in the middle of his living room, unsure of what to do. 

There was too much quiet in his flat that the noise inside of his head completely took over his senses. It was consuming him every second he stared at the floor while he fidgeted with his fingers as if the stimulation would provide some sort of comfort. 

It choked him, making it harder to breathe as he found himself stuck frozen in his own flat as if something had locked him there to torture him until he would eventually find himself too exhausted to even think anymore. He couldn’t even go into his room to get his journal to write down the endless thoughts running through his mind, the dark and disgusting thoughts that made him feel like a wolf among sheep.

He needed something, anything to keep him from spiraling and yet-

A crash from the other side of the wall and the sound of you cursing to yourself abruptly brought him out of his head.

He blinked a few times, the tension leaving his body as he left out a few deep breaths which filled his lungs with air that seemed to go into his veins and cleanse him of whatever dirtiness that had filled them. 

You made another noise and he looked at your shared wall, imagining that you were most likely unpacking again. You must’ve dropped something and he hoped that it was nothing valuable but he couldn’t have been more grateful for the fact that you had made some kind of noise. 

In fact, the more you moved around in your flat, your footsteps muffled as you walked around, the more at ease he felt because it filled up that dreaded quiet he had come to hate so much. 

He’s not sure how long he stayed there just listening to you, but he was sure he looked like an idiot with the soft smile he had on his face.

Being home didn’t seem too bad anymore.

Link to part 2

A/N: Not my best work but that's okay. This might turn into a mini series? Might make it a three parter who knows. First time really writing for Soap so I'm sorry if he seems a little off character, hopefully I'll get better at him <3

Tags: @cathnoneofyourbusiness @lillianastuff @sofasoap

[crumbledcastle28]

Azriel Shadowsinger: Sex Habits

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader (she/her; afab)

Summary: Headcanons (more like a bunch of imagines) about how Az treats his mate in the bedroom and otherwise.

Warnings: smut, smut, smut, smut, smuuuuuuut. Azriel is a switch, so is reader, swearing, lord of bloodshed cameo. This is pretty fucking dirty.

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Thank you @cherryjain17 for this amazing, inspiring request. I hope I did it justice.

SJM Masterlist

If you would like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be much appreciated &lt;3

(pic from pinterest)

Morning

-I am of the opinion that Azriel fucks you differently depending upon the time of day.

-Let's start with morning, shall we?

-Azriel is a scheduled, reliable male. Training in the morning, always, no matter the night he had before. He owed it to his High Lord to always be ready for a fight - physically, and mentally. His constant, consistent training was how he maintained that.

-However, what Rhys didn't know about what he partook in before training wouldn't hurt him.

-When Az would wake in the morning next to your - usually naked - sleeping, curled, warm body, hair sprayed across the pillows, scent unique to you filling his lungs, face painted in pure elation and serenity...

-...yeah, he would get a little hard.

-The best was when you would wake up with him, eyes dull with sleep, but their color still bright. A small, languid smile on your face. He couldn't help but touch you in that moment, his body begging him to satisfy every sense he had with the feeling of you.

-He would begin with your face, dragging the knuckle of his pointer finger across your cheekbone. Opening his palm to feel the entirety of your cheek. Tracing down the column of your throat with his pointer finger. Painting across your collarbone with every digit. Cupping your breasts delicately, fondling them, massaging them. Dragging fingers down the center of your stomach, heating up every inch of it before finally...

-...yeah, I think we get it.

-The interesting thing about sex in the morning with Azriel is that, although it begins slow, he goes fucking fast in the mornings. Pounding his fingers into you over and over again, your cum dripping down his fingers and wrist. When he finally tastes you, it's a feast. Sloppy and wet and messy and you're groaning and he's smiling so fucking big. He gets you right on the edge of euphoria before pulling back and pressing a quick kiss to your lips and turning you around, face pressed against your soft pillow, and plunging himself inside of you without a drop of mercy.

-(All of this happens within minutes because, like I said, he's got a schedule to keep).

-As he ravages you, pumping in and out and in and out faster than your brain can process, he fucking sweats. It drips down his back, down his face, across his lips, down his chest, everywhere. Your still drowsy body loves when you scrape your nails down it, coating your palms with it and fucking up his previously clean, fluffed hair with it.

-The finest, perfect part about his sex in the morning is that, even though it's rough, quick, rabid, he holds you close the entire time. He cradles your head in his forearms, litters your spine in passionate, lingering kisses, holds your hips like a cracking sculpture, caresses your scalp, thighs, and lower back.

-It is a paradox; rough yet gentle, greedy yet giving, horrid yet beautiful, quick yet endless, and hateful, yet some of the most loved you ever feel by him.

-When he finishes, and you finish multiple times, he departs you with only a kiss, and rushes down the stairs to make it in just enough time for Cassian to not suspect anything.

-He gives you smirks and winks all day anyway, much to your chagrin.

Afternoon

-Around mid to late afternoon is when Azriel tends to get an itch.

-An itch to step away from it all: his desk, his tasks, his responsibilities.

-Sometimes this itch can be scratched by something simple: a walk around Velaris, or a flight, a cup of cocoa, or even a quick nap.

-Other times, however, this metaphorical itch can only be scratched by the exclusive, spectacular taste of his mate.

-And luckily for you, Azriel is the fucking king of quickies.

-He finds you within minutes, utilizing the convenient bond cemented in his very bones, and conveys his desires with only a look.

-Some days, you decline. Too busy with work, too tired from a night previous, or just plainly not in the mood.

-On these days, Azriel understands. He leaves you respectfully, always with a short kiss and a silent promise of "later" permeating in the air.

-On the days where you do accept, however, is when Azriel truly lights on fire.

-The caveat to quickies with Azriel, however, is that he cannot risk any...leakage onto his clothing. Whether that be cum, spit, or otherwise.

-Frankly, you couldn't either. The both of you took your jobs and professionalism too seriously.

-Which is what makes these quickies so fucking good.

-He kisses you, hard, and lifts you under your ass against his waist to press you against a nearby wall, covering the both of you in shadow. He kisses you until your head spins before unzipping whatever top you have on, and claiming the shit out of your breasts.

-Gods how he loves your breasts.

-He kisses and licks, nibbles and bites, marks and marks and marks you all over your chest and ribcage, whispering words dripping in honey.

-"All mine, these are all mine, aren't they?"

-"Never going to get enough of these - enough of you."

-"I can hear your heart, baby. Need a break?"

-"Fuck you," you respond, your matching smiles and shining eyes giving away your infectious joy.

-He kisses your tits long enough to make your mouth go dry from hanging open so long, before finally making his way up to your throat, whispering "mine" along the column.

-Never leaving a mark.

-He kisses around your pulse, and sometimes you kiss around his as well, before finally recolliding his mouth with your own, and kissing you like a male starved. Mapping you like a cartographer exploding a new land. Rejoicing in the mix of your skin and your mouth on his tongue like a male on his knees in prayer.

-You would think just kisses from him wouldn't count as a quickie, but with how thoroughly and religiously and hungrily he does, you come close to release every time.

-The both of you counted it.

-On days when his cartography becomes too much to bare, or the ego in your chest roars at the thought of him getting you so close to release by just his kisses, your fingers finagle their way to the tent growing in his pants, and palm him through the leather.

-Azriel felt that, as long as your mouth was not on him, he could control himself. The bar of professionalism would be met, and the risk of leakage would be next to none.

-But you have never been one not to test a theory, especially in the name of science.

-You palm him so wretchedly ferociously and savagely that you can practically sketch the exact curve, vein, and girth of his bulge. That's how hard he gets through his pants. You wonder if there is any blood left for his brain.

-You even push him away from you and lick him through the leather, never enough to stain his pants, but enough for him to feel the heat of your tongue cupping his balls and dragging across his dick.

-Still, he never comes, not once; however, that didn't mean he didn't retaliate.

-On days when you'd suck him off this way, he strikes back like a true Illyrian warrior.

-Unforgiving, and calculated.

-He guides you away from him, and does the exact same thing to you.

-Fingers you through your pants, pressing the fabric so taught against your clit you thought you would explode, before pulling his hand away, and replacing it with his mouth. Licking your folds through the fabric, nudging your clit with his nose, devouring and consuming you through the protection of one tiny piece of fabric.

-The mix of heat and fabric is so delicious that, every time, he leaves you near tears.

-He pulls away from you slowly, makes sure you can stand on two feet, and with one last kiss to your cheek, he backs away from you.

-"Later," he whispers, one of his shadows drying the tears staining your hot cheeks. "I want more of you later. I want more of you always."

-You always somehow return to the task you were attempting to accomplish previously, mind puddy, hands shaking, and breasts deliciously sore.

Night

-So yes, Azriel likes to fuck you fast. Leave you wanting more. Drooling for him. Pooling on the floor. Left on shaking knees. Departing from you with only a few words.

-But his favorite, most beloved way to fuck you is to make love to you. Slowly. Intimately. In every way he knows you love.

-And that is how he does it at nighttime.

-But, I am getting ahead of myself.

-After long days of meetings, missions, planning, or even just boring paperwork, there is nothing he adores more than a quiet, serene dinner with you. He enjoys cooking the meal himself, usually making something one of you has mentioned having a recent craving for, and absolutely beaming when you finally walk through the door.

-You join him in the kitchen, and immediately wrap your hands around his waist, pulling him into a hug. He holds you close, breathing in the products in your hair, and kissing the top of your head.

-"How was your day?" you ask him.

-He's honest. Somedays he says "good," somedays he says "okay," and somedays he just sighs.

-You don't usually ask him to elaborate on those days unless you get the feeling that he wants to, but no matter what, he always asks you the question back.

-You are always honest with him too.

-After that, he finishes off dinner, and the two of you eat. Some nights it's full of conversations, sometimes superficial, like how the weather has been, but sometimes they're deep. Deep enough that sometimes he wonders if your words are able to reach inside of his brain and stroke it, hitting it exactly where he needs to be challenged, praised, or questioned.

-It was unreal every time, how well you knew him.

-Other nights, however, were coated in comfortable silence. Maybe you were both too tired to talk, or too content, or couldn't think of much to say. He never minded. If there was anything he could appreciate, it was happy, wonderful, comfortable silence. It was a sign that his day had come to an end, he had kept his Court and his people safe, and he had done at least something right.

-And what better way to bask in the safety of silence than with the person who knows you better than anyone, and the person you have more love for than stars in the sky.

-After the two of you have full stomachs, he always leads you to your shared bedroom by his arm, and pushes your chair in for you.

-Your face heats every time. Without fail.

-So does his.

-He leads you to the bedroom and kisses you once, twice, three times, before departing to take care of the dishes. He pictures how you make the mundane, simple task of getting ready for bed so godsdamn beautiful: your face cleaned, your hair refreshed, your breath newly minted, and your shoulders and jaw relaxed. A timeless beauty. A vulnerable sight, only for him.

-He finishes up and heads back to you, hands clean and soul at ease. He finds you already in bed; maybe reading, maybe writing, maybe already closing your eyes.

-He gets ready for bed himself, making sure his teeth and tongue are brushed thoroughly.

-Some nights, that is it. He joins you in bed and you drift off together, holding each other close at the beginning of the night, and closer in the morning. Smiles on your faces. Soft snores escaping you. Bodies breathing in sync.

-But not most nights.

-Most nights, after him joining you in bed, you pull him in, and kiss him so softly he barely feels it.

-But it's there.

-"Touch me, Azriel," you whisper, "and let me touch you."

-And he lets you.

-The kisses start soft, just lips on lips, before your tongue breaks his lips apart, and your bodies begin to warm up. Either he lays you down on your back or you push him down, either way, one of you gets on top of the other, and the two of you begin to do nothing less than venerate each other.

-So much kissing, so much feeling each other up and down; down each other's backs, across each other's faces, through each other's hair, across each other's stomachs, and so much breathing and groaning against each other's skin.

-This is all before a scrap of clothing comes off.

-When it does, however, Azriel undresses you like a nurse would undress a wound. Almost in slow motion, so he can take a peek at how every inch of your body looks that day. Maybe you gained a bruise, a scratch, a freckle, or a stretch mark. Either way, he wanted to make note of every inch of your body, memorizing every way your skin moved or wrinkled, your muscles flexed. He needs the image of you in his mind constantly updated.

-You do the same to him. Collecting every change in his body and adding them to his mental schema.

-When all of your clothes are finally off, and his mate stands before him completely raw, is when he begins to lose control of his mouth.

-"Gods, have you always looked like this?"

-"So warm, so soft."

-"How come every time I see you, I feel like I've spent my entire life blind?"

-His claim of never needing to resort to poetry holds true, but that doesn't mean he isn't damn good at it.

-After minutes and minutes of leaving hickeys, kisses, and indents on each other, so much so that both of your lower stomachs have begun to boil and your lungs are gasping for air, is when Azriel pulls away.

-"Can I?" he asks as he presses his forehead against yours, his hazel eyes glowing and his bulge pressed against your slick. You nod, smiling, and with one last kiss, he slides home.

-And fuck does he go nauseatingly slow.

-Even if you're on top, he ensures you pierce yourself with him with purpose, sliding his dick all the way in, all the way out, and all the way in, over and over and over.

-It was fucking heaven how well he fit in you, how he got you so wet you didn't even need to try, how deep his dick goes inside of you...

-...and how he has no qualms about never shutting the fuck up.

-Especially when you're on top - the view of you sliding him in and out of you, your body fully open to him to admire, and face at his disposal to kiss and whisper into.

-"My mate, oh my mate."

-"Right there, do you feel that? Fuck you take me so well."

-"My gods look at us, look at me in you."

-"You like that? Right there? I fucking love you. My mate. My love. My soul."

-As I said, poetry.

-One thing he never fails to take advantage of is the full-length mirror leaning against your wall, giving the both of you the perfect menu of angles to view yourselves.

-I think you know where this is going.

-"Look at us, baby. Look at us."

-"You're so fucking beautiful."

-"Look at yourself when you take me inside you."

-He goes on and on, drunk on the feeling of you, diminishing him of any sort of filter.

-I cannot imagine any reason you would want to shut up the most private, silent male in all of Prythian while he's sprouting sweet nothings to you, but if you do, there's one surefire way to do it.

-Reaching out your pointer and middle finger, only two fingers are necessary, and tracing thin lines down the veins in his wings.

-Never will you ever see him go so silent so quickly. His cheeks instantly redden and his voice escapes him. His cock begins to twitch inside you, his grip on either you or the sheets becomes so fierce his scarred knuckles turn a milk white, and his mouth falls open.'

-He becomes immediately and totally helpless.

-The two of you begin to fuck harder then, chasing the high the both of you are so close to, fucking into each other faster and faster and faster until finally you are coming on his cock, and he is spraying across your thighs.

-Finding release with a mate is different than any other - it is blinding, hot, and immeasurably pleasurable. It fills every vein in your body with a molten rapture, forcing you to collapse into his body, and his own to collapse onto yours. The bond within both of your chests throbbing in delight like a second heartbeat.

-After a few moments of you practically regaining consciousness, his warm, sweat covered body begins to move against you, making sure your head is comfortable on a pillow and your body is flat. He then presses kisses all across your face, etching a smile onto your face.

-"I still believe," he whispers against your temple, "that I will never get enough. I love you I love you I love you."

-The smell of sex and sweat vanquishes your nostrils as you stand up and head to the bathroom, Az's eyes burning holes through your skin.

-By the time you return, Azriel's arms are open to you, and you tuck yourself in. He holds you impossibly close, his miniscule chest hair rubbing against your cheek. His wings add a second layer of protection.

-Your body begins to fade, but your mind lingers a little longer to process one final statement whispered into your hair.

-"Gods, never allow me to be parted from her."

Taglist: (if you would like to be added please let me know!)

@leahkenobi @notquitehero @lovelyladymayyy@seraphqueen @em---r @azaideen @katiebellf @llovelydove @tinasbookishlife @xxpeachyxo @evlyncelia @icarusave @forever-paramore28 @peachyxlynch @feyretopia @wingedmiken @moonslattes @hollyismentallyillhelp @esposadomd @redhighlady @bsenpai-blog @buttercake2234 @perssepeony @whor-3-crux @avengerswhre @mystic-sculptorture @wolfyland7 @are-y0u-serious-blog @hilism @tooobsessedsstuff @simplysensual @hernameispa @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @i-am-fascinated @seraphimluxe @just-living5 @saphiraprince22 @azsazz​ @thatonespriteobsessedbitch​ @moisyinfluencerstrawberry @bigcreatorwombatdreamer​ @azsazz

[scorpioriesling]

Random Tropes HC (pt. 1)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Rhysand / Azriel / Cassian x reader

Warnings: slight sexual suggestions

Summary: Random tropes, and how each would play out, depending on the character... and you, of course.

SR’s Note: I saw a filter on Tik Tok talking about book tropes, and ranking your favorite to least favorite... so this idea came to mind. I am using my top 6 (not in order) for the purpose of this post -- enjoy! Part 2

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Rhysand - "Slow Burn" / "Forbidden Love"

Only he would get involved in something very dangerous, for both you and him

But, he wouldn't care. He had to have you

In this version, you'd be Tamlin's sister, and he knew how dangerous it would be to be with you

At first, you hated him (as your brother taught you) but... over time you realized how shitty your brother was and you started falling for the High Lord of the Night Court

But, like Tamlin, your stubbornness would get in the way

"Keep playing pretend all you want, princess," Gods you hated when he would see right through the walls you tried to put up. "I know it's me you think of when you're alone at night."

When you finally drop the act, Rhysand is... oh boy

"You really like making me wait, don't you?" He would say, breath hot on you ear while he ran his fingers down your arms from behind.

You couldn't even begin to explain how hard it's been to hold out, to pretend you still hate hijm even though you haven't for quite a while.

"Shhh..." He would brush a strand of hair from your face, lips grazing your jawline. "No need to explain anything. I quite enjoy looking at what's going on in that pretty little head of yours myself."

Every time, you feel like you'll fully give in...

Rhysand doesn't mind the chase.

"You know what I want..." he would say. He would always wait until you were alone together, not wanting to cause anything with his enemy.

"... when the time is right." You finish. He would start staying overnight with you, his fingers tracing up and down your thigh but never going much further.

That alone and his eyes gazing into yours as he laid with you... that could turn you to mush.

The soft kisses he'd leave on your cheekbones, toying with the tendrils of your hair...

All for it to end in the morning, him pressing a kiss to your forehead before winnowing back to the Night Court without a trace.

Cassian - "Fake Dating"

Rhysand had not only given his brother the title of War General, but had also supplied him with a second in command.

You'd been taking training lessons from Cassian in a group setting. He tried really hard to keep his attention to other participants fair, but... something about you really stuck out to him.

Maybe it was the way your braid swung when you executed a move he'd only just taught the class; maybe it was the way your leggings hugged the curve of your ass, accentuated when he would have you practice punches and kicks with the punching bag...

It wasn't just your beauty. You were smart, witty, cunning... but also a very skilled fighter.

Cassian wasn't the only one to notice either.

"As the newly appointed second in command," Rhysand said, hands folded on his desk before him. You stood next to Cassian in Rhys' office. "You will be joining Cassian on his excursions from now on." Your eyed widened, and you elbowed the gorgeous male to your right.

"He can't defend himself all alone?" You say, a smirk pulling your lips. Cassian rolls his eyes, but Rhys just stares between the two of you, grinning smugly.

"Something like that."

You got along suprisingly well with the Lord of Bloodshed; he asked for your thoughts, took your advice, and leaned on you for support when you ventured to the Continent together. You'd become... dare you say it... friends.

"Oh come on, everyone's going!" Cassian threw his hands up, still standing in your doorway. You shrugged at him.

"Yeah, but... I don't really know anyone. Besides Rhys, I mean. Even then, he is kind of my boss, so..." You say, folding clothes and putting them in drawers. Cassian plops down on your bed, and when you return for the next stack, he's looking up at you with pleading hazel eyes.

"You don't have anything else tonight, right?" He asks, grabbing a hand in yours. Cassian was very touchy, and though usually you weren't, it was something you decided to let slide.

"I mean... no..."

"Its settled. You're coming with me! I'll even fly us there, so you can wear whatever shoes you want. Don't worry about the walk." He winked and walked out, so... nonchalantly. Like he didn't just reduce you to a pile of putty with his sweet notion.

It wouldn't have mattered if you wore a potato sack, Cassian would have still stared -- but you chose a tiny black dress, and glittering silver heels instead.

His eyes roamed over you when he came to pick you up, and a small chuckle fell from his lips.

"W-wow, Y/N, you look...." He doesn't finish his sentence. You roll your eyes and blush.

"Different than usual?" You supply. He gulps and nods his head, offerring you a hand. You take it, and walk to the front patio of the House of Wind.

"Hold onto me, okay?" He says. You look into his eyes, and he grins at you. "If you get scared, tell me and I'll return us to the ground.

You snort. "Oh please, Cass, do I look like I'm afraid of anyTHING-"

In seconds, his arm has wrapped under your thighs, the other holding you close around your waist. You squeeze your eyes shut, burying your face into his chest. His teakwood scent invades your nose, and you relax a little knowing this is right where you've wanted to be for months.

When you get to Rita's -- you find that you are easily the main attraction. Not only of the Inner Circle, but the place itself. Morrigan is talking your ear off, you politely spoke to Azriel, and even Rhysand has forgone his usual formal appearance.

But, like I said... others in the bar have noticed you too.

"Heyyy baby," a man's hand braces your lower back as you stand at the bar, waiting on the two drinks you offerred to get for your new friend Mor and yourself. You turn, a look of disgust on your face.

"Eew, don't touch me." You say. He only snickers, sliding onto the seat next to you.

"Let me buy you a drink." He says. His eyes are glazed over, and you continue to stare in pure distaste.

"No thanks." You clip. He huffs a laugh and leans closer to you.

"Why not, pretty girl? I don't see anyone else up here takin' care of you." Your face heats. He isn't going to leave you alone. You look over your shoulder, hoping to spot Cassian, Morrigan, Hell, even Rhysand. But you can't see anyone.

You angrily turn back to the loser next to you. "I'll have you know, I could totally kick your ass right now if I wanted to." You sneer. He laughs out loud, scooting closer and putting a hand on your leg. You gasp. "And-"

"And what, doll?" He drawls. You fumble for words, any excuse to get this creep to leave you alone.

"And... uh... and-"

"She has a boyfriend."

You turn, feeling Cassian's large hands bracing your shoulders. You let out a sigh of relief, and shoot him a Thank the Cauldron look.

"Oh... oh Gods uh I am so sorry-" The idiot fumbles, scrambling back and out of his chair.

"Save it. Don't touch her again." Cassian glares, and the guy shoos away. When he is finally out of earshot, you turn and take Cassian's hands in yours.

"Cass, oh Gods thank you..." you say. He gives you a strained smile, eyes flicking between yours and to where your hands now held his.

"It's no problem." He said. You turned, facing the bar as two drinks were slid across it to you. Cassian grabbed them both, and followed you to the booth where his friends sat. He sat one in front of Mor, and took a sip from your straw before handing yours to you.

"Heyyy," you said. He only grinned at you, allowing you to slide into the seat before him. Rhys looked at you with a smirk, and you didn't think to hard what he was getting at because the conversations started up again. Within minutes, Cassian rested his cheek on the side of your head, arm wrapped around your waist, tracing tiny circles on your bare thigh. You sucked in a breath when you caught onto what he was doing.

"Cassie, what are you..." His hand stopped to rest on your hip, and he peered down at you.

"Dance with me?" He asked. You simply nodded, following his to the dance floor where upbeat music played. You faced him, and he once again took your hands in his, swaying with you to the beat. When a more sensual song came on, he moved your hands to his chest, and replaced his on your hips, pulling you impossibly close. With each movement, you felt your heart explode a little more; you knew you cared for him more than usual friends do. But pretending to date would only hurt in the end; you enjoyed this way too much.

"Cass, I.." You started. His left hand moved to rest atop your butt, and your breath caught in your throat. He leaned down to talk over the loud music.

"You... what, Y/N?" Ughhh. Your name sounded so good on his lips.

"I, uh... that guy. He isn't here anymore, so. We can stop pretending." You gazed up at him, his hazel eyes dark and focused on your lips.

"And what if I'm not pretending?"

Azriel - "Enemies to Lovers"

Ohhh he would want you from the get go.

In this version, you'd be Eris's full sister, and Lucien's half sibling.

"What's she doing here?" He would ask when Eris brought you with him to the meeting he was to attend with the Inner Circle.

"Trust me, I didn't want to. Beron made for her to come with me." Eris would say, not missing the glare Azriel pointed at you. You only returned the sentiment.

"What's it to you?" You asked. Azriel folded his arms across his chest, his biceps bulging from the tight black tee he wore. You couldn't help but let your eyes linger for a moment, before returning to his face when he spoke again.

"Whatever. I just don't want any other liabilities." You scoffed, beelining for the door to the meeting hall where the rest of the Inner Circle waited. Your shoulder clocked Azriel as you passed, and Eris chuckled.

"Maybe I brought her for some entertainment," he whispered lowly, following you into the meeting room. Azriel said nothing else as he trailed in last, pulling the door closed behind him.

"So whatever did you need to talk about?" Eris says, taking the seat across from Rhysand. Of course he would, leaving the last two empty chairs across from one another for you and Azriel.

"You know why I've called you here." Rhysand purrs. They begin their conversation, and you feel a tiny tickle around your wrist. You look down and see a slim, black tendril of a shadow. When you peer down at it, it seems to seize its movements. You give a small smile, and it continues its dance around your fingers.

"What has your sister said about this arrangement?" Rhys asks, making you look up. Your cheeks heat as all eyes are now on you. What was the question?

"I uh, I think whatever needs to be done is up to the better judgement of my father," you say. Rhysand's eyebrows rise, and Eris glances sidelong at you, giving you a silent confirmation. You're glad you answered somewhat correctly.

Glancing across the table, Azriel is still staring daggers into you. You shoot him a small snarl, and remember the smoky tendril winding around your knuckles. A devilish smirk takes over your lips.

You flutter your fingers, and the shadow follows your command, returning to Azriel. It drifts up his exposed forearm, and slips under his shirt. He shifts uncomfortably, glancing around and swallowing.

"It's settled then. Y/N will reside here for the time being-"

"Wait, what?" You say, realizing you've spoken in unison. Azriel is squirming in his chair, shadow still tickling him as he looks at Rhys with pleading eyes.

"Why would she need to be here?" He asks lowly. You snarl at him, crossing your arms.

"Its obviously not my first choice either, bat." You say. This time he glares back at you. "Don't worry; I won't have anything to do with you while I'm here." You finish, nose upturned as you fix your gaze on your brother beside you again. He leans over and gives your knee a squeeze, pride showing in his face.

"It's settled then." He stands, and you do the same. Eris and Rhys shake hands, and he makes to walk out the door. You trail behind him, as you hear Azriel pleading and begging Rhysand to make you go home.

"She is staying, Azriel. I've already made up my mind. This is the next best move we could make." He explains and Azriel shoves his chair in, the legs scraping on the floor. Pathetic.

"Listen, if anything happens to you here, you just give me a shout, okay? I'll come get you-" You wrap your arms around your big brother. He sighs and returns the hug. You peer over his shoulder and catch Azriel staring at you from the doorway. You snicker.

"I will be just fine, I promise." He nods, placing a hand on your arm one last time before making to leave. The rest of the members have already cleared out, leaving just you and Azriel.

He doesn't wait to pounce on you once your brother is out of earshot, but you know better. You've known better for years; Azriel is always so tempermental. So... ugh, annoying. So, hot.

"Save it Az - you cant't get rid..." You're cut off by his hand gripping your elbow, falling into darkness as he winnows you both. When you open your eyes, you realize you're in a bedroom. A big one, with cream colored drapes and sheets on the bed. You barely take in the scene around you before your hands are pinned above your head against the back of the closed bedroom door.

"Azriel." You say, tone low and menacing. He glares down at you, leaning in towards your face.

"What the hell was that?" He seethes. Your brow raises in question.

"What are you-" You breath is coming in short pants. The scent of sage and sea salt rolls off him, gently caressing your senses as you try to focus on what he asked you. You're a bit distracted, you'll admit. This golden flecked eyes, staring intensely at you. The light dusting of freckles across his sun-kissed nose. His lips that are so close to yours...

"Manipulating my own shadows. Trying to distract me duirng the meeting? What the hell was that?" He breathes. You let a small smile grace your lips. His pull back as he bares his teeth at you, and you chuckle.

"Aww, Az, it's nice to see you still brush every morning -- maybe if you smiled more-" He surges forward, crashing his lips onto yours. Your eyes blow wide in shock, his free hand grasping your hip bone and pulling you close to him. His lips feast on you hungrily, biting your lower lip as his tongue dances with yours, battling for dominance. You can't help but let out a low groan, and his grip on your wrists loosens. When he finally pulls back, gasping for air, you grin mischeviously at him.

Gotcha. Right where I wanted you.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

She's The Skeleton In My Closet (Mia Winters/Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil/Resident Lover Genre: fluff? and whatever is a step down from smut Rating: T? not quite horny enough for M. Warnings: Brief, non-descriptive mentions of death/bloodshed, and relatively minor choking in a sexual context (it's more of a hand position than actual choking). Reader is referred to as a girl once by a side character. Summary: It's the end of another loop, and Mia allows herself to get closer to you... through a game of Seven Minutes In Heaven. Notes: Inspired by two pieces of art by @vivi-ness, specifically this and this. If you want to skip to the part of this fic that actually takes place in the closet (aka the making out part), start reading after the second section break -----. I did not mean for the lead-up to be as long as it ended up being. Also might make a part 2 with actual smut?

Alone. Curled up with the brazen darkness wrapped around her like a blanket, Mia’s eyes straining, as she glanced over her notes by candlelight. Less than thirty feet away raged a party fit to shake the heavens. As with every semester, the Umbrella Sorority felt inclined to celebrate the end of exams. Blaring music, countless games on rotation, enough booze to drown the world (or set it all ablaze). Even the theatre kids know to defer to the sorority for this evening. Normally, Mia would not hesitate to join in, downing shots of whiskey and kicking ass at every other game, all the while keeping keen eyes on interesting people.

Ah, but not tonight. Not with the reset looming in the distance, date preselected. Another loop on death row. There was plenty of work to be done, mostly preparations for the ritual, but Mia’s focus was on… other matters. Scanning through old tomes, searching for something that may prove useful in the next rotation. Maybe not enough to finally end the cycle, no, of course not, just something to influence it. Push it in the right direction, despite Miranda’s many protests regarding “interference”.

But there’s a knock on the door, and Mia pauses, unsure if it was simply the bass speakers thumping the walls again. A beat passes before the knock repeats, louder this time. Off-tempo. Quickly, she places her journal aside without marking her place (she remembers, of course, that it is page 28), then blows out the candles. Even as the darkness swallows the last sanctuary of light, her movements are smooth, flowing. In one motion she flips the light switch and unlatches the door.

“What’s up?” She asks, sickly sweet and every bit faking it, staring down at the unexpected visitor. They’re a sophomore, she thinks, a small woman whose name starts with an A. Or an E, maybe. Most loops have her just barely in Mia’s peripheral, sharing a single class but never really interacting. Definitely not the person she would have wanted to come knocking at her door. Only a brief moment passes before the woman replies, her gaze briefly (and unsubtly) scanning the room, voice filled with the unironic enthusiasm that made her grate on Mia’s nerves.

“Well, we’re one person short for 7 Minutes in Heaven- we had enough people, technically, but a few left after Cassandra got picked early, you know how it is- and so I was wondering if you’d join? It’s so weird not having you at the party, anyway, really feels like we’re missing an integral piece of the vibe, you know?” Alissa (if that was her name) says, offering a lopsided smile. Faint pink dusts her freckled cheeks, only some of it being makeup. One of her hands starts to reach for Mia, to rest a flirtatious hand against her shoulder, but the flash of something darker in her expression makes Alissa pull back.

“Oh, I would love to play, but technically my exams aren’t finished,” Mia answers, sporting a half-assed pout, dragging the words out. She lets her tongue click on the t in technically for emphasis. It’s not the best excuse, especially considering Elise (or whatever her name is) also still has one final left. All because the student council took one day too long to remind a certain professor that he couldn’t force students to complete a ritual as part of their exam. Not that Mia would have minded a little school-sanctioned bloodplay, especially since she knows (from experience) that the ritual Dr. Wesker had in mind wouldn’t work.

“C’mon, Mia, we both know you don’t need to study for our Occult Sciences class; you could probably teach it at this point!” Anna (Áine?) chimes, grinning wide, blissfully unaware of the true accuracy of her statement. Mia could teach the class, far better than the actual professor, although at that point it would be considerably harder to keep the university’s secrets. But that doesn’t mean she has any interest in joining the party.

Her reluctance must show, because the shorter woman (whose name may or may not be Enya) squints, lips pursing before she abruptly straightens up and switches tactics.

“Besides… your favorite person is playing,” she adds, leaning in to stage-whisper, glancing down the hallway as if checking for eavesdroppers. Despite the confidence in her voice, Mia stares at her blankly. As much as she definitely has a favorite, the one her very soul is bound to, she finds it unlikely that Eliza would know… right? It’s not like they’ve even spent that much time together this loop. Surely she’d been able to keep her cards close to her chest; it’s not like Eliza was terribly observant anyway. Unfortunately for Mia, her thoughts get cut off by another high-pitched exclamation. “Don’t play dumb, Mia! The girl with one earring, roommates with Angie and the youngest Dimitrescu?”

Well. Fuck. So much for being subtle…

-----

Turning down Anamaria (no, not that one, the other one) became impossible the second Mia’s eyes lit up, all at the mere mention of you. Within a minute she had relented, murmuring a few choice words under her breath, allowing herself to be all but dragged to a crowded living room. It takes all of her willpower to maintain a guise of boredom, lips drawn tight as she scanned the partygoers for familiar faces. A slight tension formed in her chest as she intentionally avoided looking at the center of the room, having caught a glimpse of familiar clothing, saving the sight for last. 

Caldwell is by the back corner, playing some complicated boardgame with a mildly enthused Stanley (and a confused but nonetheless supportive Jasmin), positioned where they can keep an eye out for trouble. All three of the Stans could be found hovering by the alcohol, debating whether to leave now or wait for Cassandra to inevitably grab a refill. Somehow Anamaria (yes, that one) was half asleep, tuckered out from one too many party games, curled up against a blushing Livia. Both were chatting with Angie, who was perched precariously on the back of the couch. The only thing keeping the short girl from falling off was a hand clutching one of her belt loops, pulling as necessary to rebalance her.

As Mia’s eyes traced the hand to its owner, she inhaled sharply, the slightest flare to her nostrils. There you are. Eyes crinkled at the edges while you laugh at one of Daniela’s jokes, the sound barely audible past the music, your mouth open in a genuine, shameless grin. Mia allows herself a single moment to admire the view. Luck plays a trick on her then, your gaze suddenly shifting to her, eyes widening when you meet her stare. Immediately you look away, warmth in your face contrasting the way your shoulders tense.

If Mia hadn’t torn her gaze away, flinching like she got burned, she would have seen the way your friends reacted, the way they jumped at the opportunity to tease you. Instead, she lets herself get tugged over to a spare chair by the woman hosting the game.

“Damn, Iris, I didn’t think you’d actually convince Mia to play,” Nicoletta says, trailing her eyes up and down Mia, appreciatively, before turning to the one who had dragged her here. Guess her name doesn’t start with an A or an E after all, Mia thinks, before shrugging off the attention. None of these people know her terribly well, beyond reputation, and she can’t be bothered to unpack why they wanted her here.

“I mean, I kind of had to, with how hard Iris was begging me,” Mia says, pointedly ignoring their gazes in favor of inspecting her nails (short, smoothed over, no polish today). Protests stream from next to her, while a few chuckles rise up around the room. A smirk crosses her lips as she makes eye contact with Iris. Before the woman can explain that Mia only agreed because you’re playing, she speaks up again, propping her feet up on the coffee table as she does. “So, are we drawing names from a hat or what?”

“Close, half of us already put a trinket or whatever in the bag. Anyone who didn’t put one in gets to draw one at some point,” Iris explains, eager to move past the embarrassment from Mia’s lie. “Since you had to be… convinced, you can go ahead and be the one to draw next. Once the lovebirds in the closet are done, that is!”

Nodding, Mia withdrew into herself again, content to sit in silence until her turn. Why had she agreed to this, exactly?... It’s not as if she’s ideologically opposed to party games, but she’d always been more of a fan of the ones that involve drinking. Maybe spin-the-bottle, if she was in the mood for it. But Seven Minutes In Heaven? Too time-consuming, and absolute torture if one got stuck with the wrong partner. What were the odds she’d even get paired up with you? Was that even what she wanted?

Something about this particular loop was messing with her head. Every other one so far involved you falling in love with somebody, even if it ended poorly. But this time?... She had been sure you’d end up with Daniela or Angie, with the way you pushed studies aside for parties, never officially joining the sorority but being a frequent guest at their dorm. Living it up, only getting serious when you helped break Daniela’s curse (not because you loved her, but because you love her, the same way you pour your heart into loving all of your friends).

That’s why the reset was looming overhead, of course. Your faith in Miranda lay shattered, if it had ever existed in the first place, your distrust a crime she considered worthy of oblivion. Any life where you would not love her was, to Miranda, a life unfit to continue.

Mia gets pulled out of her thoughts by a door opening, old hinges squawking in protest. Two flustered women readjust their clothing as they exit the closet, both sporting bright red cheeks, utterly oblivious to the fact that they had swapped shirts. Naturally, they are not allowed to remain ignorant for long, a chorus forming of drunken cheers and teasing remarks. Not everyone focuses on the couple, however, and Mia feels the weight of someone’s gaze on her.

Once more she looks to you, just in time for you to look away, although this time she notices something odd: You aren’t wearing your earring. How interesting. Suddenly she finds herself itching to take her turn, but she suppresses her thirst, not wanting to earn any gentle ribbing from the others. Another minute passes before the paper bag actually gets passed to her, Iris winking as their fingers brush up against each other. Maintaining eye contact, Mia reaches into the bag, offering a smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes.

There are still five or six items inside, some of them in familiar shapes. A watch with a cracked face, one of those tiny skateboards (a Tech Deck, maybe?), a basic bracelet… None of them interest her, but it only takes another second for her to grasp her target, the cool surface smooth under her touch. Carefully, she retrieves it, ensuring the earring doesn’t snag on any of the other items.

With a triumphant smirk, she holds it up in the light. Although disappointment shows in Iris’ face, Mia can’t help but notice the way Daniela nudges your side with a knowing grin. Even Angie turns to whisper something in your ear, almost tumbling off the couch with how hard she laughs at the instant flush to your face, exasperation clear in your posture. Nonetheless, you rise on shaky legs, not meeting Mia’s gaze as the two of you move towards the unoccupied closet…

-----

“Have fun in there! Seven minutes starts when the door closes,” Iris chimes, having readopted her mask of overexcited joy, all but pushing you in after Mia. There’s a sharp click right after, the door settling into place. Another click, softer, and the small space becomes sparsely illuminated. You blink a few times to adjust to the dim lighting, glancing up in time to see Mia… on her phone? Before you can question her, she taps a button and sets it down on one of the shelves behind her, and you catch a glimpse of a timer on the screen.

“Six and a half minutes,” she says, as if that was all the explanation needed. Then she’s leaning forward, expression blank, hands reaching out to-... put your earring back where it belongs. It’s an oddly intimate experience, feeling out of place in a game that focused on a different kind of intimacy. If only it lasted longer than a few moments. Once she pulls away, there’s a noticeable flush to her cheeks. “Wouldn’t want anyone to catch us in a compromising position, right?”

Despite her words, Mia makes no further moves to touch you. One hand fiddles with the hem of her jacket, the other tucks her own hair behind her ear, the movement awkward in the cramped space. It’s easy enough to mistake her countenance for a kind of nervousness. Playing wasn’t her idea, after all, and you feel a twinge of guilt for being so excited about getting paired with her. Could she tell? Was she worried by the thundering of your heart, by the warmth of your presence?

Internally, however, Mia is struck with the sudden urge for her favorite brand of intimacy: Violence. Of the last eighteen times she was this close to you, with your breath just barely ghosting her skin, sixteen of those meetings had ended with homicide, attempted or otherwise. Gods, it was her curse, to only know your touch when she initiated it with heavy hands. To be so well acquainted with the feeling of your blood on her skin that it has become more familiar than her own. When was she last able to touch you without the many promises of pain? Can she even trust herself to love without consuming?

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, I know you probably weren’t planning on this tonight,” you say, softly, offering a weak smile. Now you’re the nervous one, rubbing your arm as if the sensation might smooth out your anxiety. It’s not until you feel Mia lean the slightest bit forward that you dare to meet her gaze. Something haunts her expression, lying beneath the flushed cheeks and hooded eyes. Before you can even blink, she’s brought her hand back up, cupping your chin and making sure your gaze never leaves hers.

“And if I do want to do something?” Mia whispers. One of her fingers shifts, gently tracing over the front of your throat. If only you knew how excited she got by the feeling of your heart racing beneath her fingertips. In contrast, she is all the more aware of the way your breath hitches at her touch. The way you look up at her with dilated pupils makes her every bit hungrier. Just one taste, she thinks, eying your lips. How was it fair that in all these loops, she had never once gotten to kiss you? “Tell me you want this. Say it, or I go right now, game be damned.”

She knows it’s not fair to put that pressure on you, to make you choose that very second. But she doesn’t care, not at all, not when she knows you’re already on the brink of giving in.

“Please, Mia,” you say, voice almost whiny from sudden need, a hand moving to clutch her jacket. More words get stuck in your throat, a part of your mind still keenly aware of how swiftly the mood has changed. Had Mia ever been nervous? Maybe, maybe just not the way you had interpreted her to be. No traces of hesitation can be found in her expression as she slides her hand lower, fingers resting on either side of your neck, only enough pressure for you to really feel her. A silent urging for you to spill the rest of your plea. “I want you.” You swallow hard, trapped by her touch, yet desperate for more. “I want this. Please. Please kiss me.”

In an instant she’s pulled you forward, lips crashing against yours; her hand on your throat is the anchor tying her to you. All other thoughts are crushed under the weight of her messy embrace. There’s just her. Instinct drives your movements, all of the desire that had built up this semester coalescing into a kiss, into the way your hand ends up fisted in her hair, the other sliding beneath her jacket to grasp at her shirt.

Mia’s fingers never tighten around your neck, never put any pressure on your windpipe, yet they still hold power over you. It’s her movement that changes the angle, that deepens the kiss until your lips part for her. You swear you can feel her hunger, the need radiating from her, and yet you have no idea how much she is truly holding back. Every bit of your hunger was matched and exceeded by her.

Your feelings, hidden until now, had gnawed at your heart for half a year. Hers had hounded her for countless loops. The hand on your throat is a warning to herself, arm a barrier to keep her from coming any closer. It’s not enough, her free hand itching to touch and tug, to begin unraveling you. Mia presses the hand to the wall behind you, clenching it into a fist. That might have done the trick… if not for the way you shift a moment later. As soon as your thigh starts to slot between her own, she throws out any sense of caution, giving in to this one chance to be with you.

“So eager for me,” Mia murmurs, having pulled back for just a moment, finally pulling her hand from your neck (you miss it, miss the warmth, miss her guidance). There’s a split second where you think you see love in her eyes- and then your back is flat against the wall, both her hands on your hips, her mouth pressing open kisses along your jaw. A tug encourages you to move your thigh again, letting her seek out that friction she so desperately needs. “So fucking good to me,” she whispers, breath hot against your cheek.

Then she’s practically nipping at your throat, relishing your gasp, only to eagerly soothe the skin with gentle kisses. Something like a growl leaves her as she starts to grind against your thigh, grip on your hips growing tighter. Each moment has the kisses growing more intense again, paired with more soft bites, making it harder and harder to keep yourself from moaning. When her hands start rubbing circles against you, it becomes impossible to stay completely quiet.

Both a blessing and a curse, your sound comes at the same time that Mia’s phone starts to vibrate, signaling the end of your time together. Instantly she’s peeling herself off of you, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, muttering a few swears in between shaky breaths. Following her lead, you try to smooth out your clothing and collect yourself. But that’s much easier said than done, neither of you satisfied at leaving things here, both itching to finish what you started.

“You should stay,” Mia starts to say, shrugging off her jacket. Each word sounds like she has to force it out. “After the party ends. I could… I could use the company.” This time the words come easier, accompanied with a crooked grin, and she doesn’t hesitate to drape her jacket over your shoulders, covering up the marks she definitely left all over your throat. More than that, it’s her way of making sure everyone knows that you’re with her tonight.

The door swings open before you have a chance to respond to her offer. For a moment the light feels blinding, and when you reopen your eyes you see that Mia’s already started walking away, ignoring the reactions of other partygoers. You would be disappointed… but this is the first time you’ve seen her without a jacket, and now you find yourself with a new appreciation for her arms, already picturing yourself getting pinned beneath her. Something to look forward to later tonight, you suppose.

[dollfaced-erin]

𝔻𝕣𝕒𝕘𝕠𝕟'𝕤 ℂ𝕣𝕒𝕕𝕝𝕖 (Blade x F!Reader x Jing Yuan)

PART 15

PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5 , PART 6 , PART 7 , PART 8 , PART 9 , PART 10 , PART 11 , PART 12 , PART 13 , PART 14

A/n :-

Oh lord im so sorry i didnt update. i had a few tests i had to go through ;;-;;. COVID here is rising again so everyone please take care of your health ! exams are finally overrr aksdlksjd now i can write and finish up those requestss Small reminder that a part of Yingxing's name means star, and a part of Dan Jia's name means home !

Taglist : -

@rebeccawinters , @nayukiyukihira , @pix-stuff , @fluffy-koalala , @swivy123 , @starxao , @kaoyamamegami , @kimura-uzuri , @rsvye , @seikouryuu , @just-here-reading , @matsulovesyou, @sincerely-aaronette , @prettyliliy , @chibiduck , @hermosacolibri , @la-diablas-thingz , @farelady-fate , @everi-eve , @shadowfoxey , @helloyuki , @immahuman

"They're ready to head to the base terminals to start them up. Apparently all three of them shut down after conduction of foreseeing your current and past predicament." Fu Xuan said, looking at (Y/n) after she had returned from giving orders to her assistant.

(Y/n) lifted an eyebrow as if to say, 'is it my fault ? Damn, sorry', but Fu Xuan sighed and put a hand on the forearm of the taller lady next to her.

"No, it's not your fault. The symbols on the Matrix have been dimming for quite a while now, it was expected for it to not be able to recount such memories as distant the Era of Bloodshed." Fu Xuan said, shaking her head.

"Then, if so, would it be able to relinquish Kafka's means ?" (Y/n) asked as she looked at the Master Diviner of the Luofu.

"To reread the recent past written by a mortal to another, is hardly much of a chore." Fu Xuan said with a proud huff, her cute cheeks blushing red with happiness.

"I suppose a lady as capable as yourself shouldn't have any problem in pulling through crises." (Y/n) said with a small smirk.

Fu Xuan flushed and she almost beams at the words of the former High Elder of the Vidyadhara. Then she turns away, trying to keep the ghost of a smile hidden from her face.

"You and that sugar-tongued General...he has really been rubbing off on you, hasn't he ?"

(Y/n) chuckled, shaking her head slightly with dusted cheeks. "As it is, fate is inevitably cruel to those blessed with more time than others. It is only natural to adopt similar instances of speech."

"Ugh..." Qingque grumbled, looking down with tears in her eyes. "I worked so hard in getting transferred to the repository. It was the best place to slack off and be invisible..."

"Now, I actually have career prospects...this is terrible !" She sobbed softly. "If I screw up, they might fire me...but if I get it done right, they'll send me more work !"

But as (Y/n) approached, Welt coughed into his fist, stopping Qingque's rambles.

"Lady (Y/n), will you be joining us ?" Welt asked as the royal lady approached them, her hand fan elegantly resting in the palms of her left hand, the hilt firmly wrapped with her right.

"Yes. I am indebted to the Master Diviner, the General, and those who had expressed concern over my wellbeing." (Y/n) said with a nod. "I shall assist you with whatever power I possess."

"L-Lady (Y/n) herself is accompanying us ?" The librarian, whose name was Qingque, as she recalled, said, looking at the horned woman with admiration in her green eyes. She was just grumbling a moment ago how there was extra work but no extra rewards.

Maybe...

"Does that mean we'll get jobs done faster ?"

"Perhaps ?"

"Oh great ! Then, let's go ! I want to play-- i mean..."

The brunette coughed into her fist for a bit.

"I would like to complete the task provided by the Master Diviner as efficiently as possible. Then, spend my leisure time with some relaxing but mind boggling luck based games." Qingque said, trying to mask her want to get the job done and quickly slack off to go play some Celestial Jade.

(Y/n) chuckled a bit before parting ways with the librarian to meet up with Jing Yuan who was addressing the present events with Stelle and March.

"Fu Xuan's Matrix of Prescience was able to go one step further than Kafka. To maintain the upper hand, I had to keep it a surprise. I hope this hasn't made you doubt my sincerity ?" Jing Yuan said with a smile as he nodded at the approach of (Y/n), his smile turning warmer.

March did NOT look impressed. "Next time, ease off on the surprises ?"

"I promise to be more transparent next time. This time it was sealed tight, not even (Y/n) was aware of my moves."

Jing Yuan looked a little guilty, but not by much.

"At present, Kafka has no intention of speaking and the Stellaron Hunters' motives remain unknown. We must rely on the power of the Divination Commission to unearth the truth." The General said again.

"'Unearth the truth'..." Welt said before looking at Jing Yuan. "You mean, interrogate Kafka using the Matrix of Prescience ?"

"Precisely. The Matrix of Prescience is the Divination Commission's ultimate weapon. It was originally used to calculate navigation routes and predict future events..." Jing Yuan said with a slight nod of his head. "With, special exceptions of course."

"Special exceptions ?" March asked, looking quite invested in the functionality of such a master device.

"Yes. For instance interrogation. The secrets of the Stellaron Hunters' cannot remain hidden for any longer. I have no choice but to move beyond conventional protocol -- we must use divination to ascertain Kafka's intent."

"And for the second means, is to peer into the misty fog that prevents power and past knowledge that is needed to be applied in special circumstances and for health purposes." Jing Yuan said, looking at (Y/n). "Lady (Y/n)'s recurring memories were quite literally dragging her consciousness to the brink of insanity. And as you all know, she possesses timeless and indispensable knowledge."

"Everything hinges on restoring the Matrix of Prescience, which is why I would like you to help Diviner Fu complete the setup. I am eternally grateful for your assistance."

"And as such, I would like you all to look after this little princess for me. She wants to come along with you, and I hope you'll help me keep an eye on her." Jing Yuan said as he gestured to (Y/n) with a cheeky grin.

"Wh-what ?! How rude !"

After repairing the first screen, the group teleported to their first destination. The first of three terminals. The Temporal Terminal which correlates with essence of time. "Observes the potential of the temporal plane" as they say.

After arranging the Mutare Magnus of the Temporal Terminal, the group then moved towards the second gate, where there was a malfunctioning robot, sparking with electricity and buzzing circuits.

"What the heck is this ? It looks like a walking gate !" March said, looking at the automaton in slight fear and awe.

"An Aurumaton. A guard-like robot placed in strategic places. The Matrix is very crucial and information abundant, so it's a...protection measure to make sure only those allowed could activate the terminal." (Y/n) said, looking at the malfunctioning piece of metal suspiciously.

"I feel like it needs a sign saying 'mortals forbidden' or something..." March said, hiding behind (Y/n) while holding onto her arm. Then she looked at Qingque with worried eyes. "Are you sure it wont fly into a rage if we walk past it...?"

"We're here by the order of the master diviner to restart the Matrix of Prescience. We're friends -- not foes !" Qingque declared to the Aurumaton.

The malfunctioning Aurumaton stood up, voice crackling with a broken chip. taking a stance. March yelped and (Y/n) pushed March even more behind her, and standing in front of Stelle.

Qingque looked panicked as she looked at the rising Aurumaton. "Ah...! March, you should join the Divination Commission ! Quick, do something !"

"Get back !" (Y/n) exclaimed, pulling out her fan as she summoned, cloudhymn magic to conjure up surrounding water to slip into the broken cracks of the piece of machinery.

"Before me !" (Y/n) commanded, before stomping her foot onto the ground, leaving a crown of ice circling her foot. Then she swung her fan, using her ice powers to freeze the water that slipped into the Aurumaton, locking it in place.

(Y/n) panted as she set down her fan, the fear from the sudden attack taking her by surprise. Her cheeks were a little dusted even though it was an easy battle for her, but she had to admit.

She was scared for a moment there.

"Hurry. Before the ice melts, you have to either destroy it, or spend time looking for the control panel and cutting the wires." (Y/n) said and Stelle hurriedly rushed forward with March by her side.

"It should be on the back !" Qingque said, still cowering behind (Y/n) as she held the legend's arm.

Without thinking much, March found the control circuit and conjured up an ice knife to cut through the colorful wires.

Then, just as hoped, the Aurumaton fell to the ground, broken. It crackled with sparks, as it serving a warning like it would get up again. But knowing that the circuits were ripped apart, they were sure that it was no longer a need to be afraid...

Then the group entered the second terminal, the Spatial Terminal. It was designed to retrieve information based on space, as Qingque explained. This time, (Y/n) sat by the side as she watched the other girls line up the Mutare Magnus, finding it endearing how they bickered over what way they should put down the pins to achieve the required shape.

And as they walked into the third and final terminal, March looked around with hands on her hips.

"So...let me guess, time, space... I bet the next terminal is energy-related !" March said proudly with a bright smile one her lips.

"Darn..." Qingque groaned as she looked at March with a sorry smile. "The Karma Terminal. They say this terminal is designed to establish casual relationships."

"What ?!"

The three began to move around, arranging the Mutare Magnus, even (Y/n) decided to join in to help them after watching them reset the plane a couple of times.

As she hopped in to help move the pins, she was suddenly reminded of an old memory that flashed in her mind.

"Hey ! Not too far out !" The familiar beloved would call out, chuckling as he followed the tugging of the blanket in his hands. He held the edge of the blanket in his thin but crafty hands, calloused from the harsh work he endured day and night to produce legends.

"But I want the blanket to be straight and tense before setting it down, Yingxing !"

"I understand, but there is no need to pull it so hard, beloved." The older man said, shaking his head as he set down the blanket on the grassy plains beneath the tree.

Wind blew past his hair, causing it to fly all over the place. The white-haired man sighed as he pushed back his long tresses behind his ear. Then he looked at her with a kind and loving gaze, the light of the moon highlighting his features.

"Well ? What are you waiting for ? Come sit down with me, my moon dancer."

Then she saw herself sitting close to the older man, snuggling happily in his arms as the two of them laid under the blanket of stars. The sight of the man staring into her eyes with love as he leaned in to kiss her forehead.

"--dy (Y/n) ?" A voice called out.

"Lady (Y/n) !" A cheerful and bright voice called out, making (Y/n) snap out of her trance-like state. The dragon lady blinked a couple of times, taking in the difference of what seemed to be her memory and the reality in front of her.

All three of the girls were looking quite worried at (Y/n), as she had suddenly stopped after placing the pin in the board.

"Are you alright, Lady (Y/n) ?" March asked, looking quite concerned. "You suddenly spaced out all of a sudden ! We're done here now, and all the terminals have lit up, so let's go back and take a short rest." The pink haired girl advised.

(Y/n) didn't really seem to understand what had just happened, but she nodded and followed the group back to the core using the screens. Although she knew that there were alot of entities roaming around to cause havoc, she couldn't help but shake off the feeling as if there was someone watching her.

The red eyes that observed from afar turned around, once he had determined that his beloved was in safe hands.

"Well done, all of you. I can sense the Matrix of Prescience symbols re-illuminating." Fu Xuan said with a satisfactory smile. "Now, to interrogate Kafka."

The master diviner turned around to face the Matrix before shooting (Y/n) a glace. "Those of you in the core may feel a few...impacts."

March was about to question Stelle what Fu Xuan had said, but then there were two Cloud Knights escorting a young and beautiful woman with red wine hair tied in a messy ponytail and captivating eyes. She wasn't cuffed, yet made no attempt to flee, following the soldiers with a simple gloved hand on her hip.

"Is this really necessary ?" The woman named Kafka asked, her voice as alluring as her features. "I said I'd cooperate with you."

"I have no interest in the words of wanted criminals. Especially those skilled in the art of manipulation." Fu Xuan briskly answered, gaze averted with a frown on her face. Then with a breath, she turned back to face the detained criminal.

"So, say what you will. I'm here to witness the divination of the Matrix of Prescience." Fu Xuan said strongly. "The Divination Commission has ways of extracting the truth, and they're far more effective than a conversation."

The woman with wine red hair chuckled softly, turning to enter the core. That was, before she shot (Y/n) a brief glance with a smirk playing at her lips.

"Then please, Master Diviner."

"Witness my destiny."

With Kafka standing in the middle, hands bound by imaginary power, Fu Xuan stood by the edge, watching her before taking out the power of the matrix. With precise hand gestures and polished expertise, Fu Xuan closed her eyes before she began to extract and activate the power of the three terminals activated by (Y/n) and the group earlier.

The tiles correspondent to their reason and trait glowed, before forming a connection that linked the plates to the Master Diviner. With using the three terminals and herself, a large binding hexagram formed in the air, rotating and calculating the past, present and future.

Kafka levitated in the air, letting her form be suspended and closer to the Matrix' core without a struggle. Symbols and constellations surrounded her as the Master Diviner began to collect data by reading the lines and the meaning of her stars, yet she smiled. Her eyes began to glow a light blue from the power surging through and out of her body, letting it see through her memories and seek out the answers they chased after.

Fu Xuan's own eyes began to glow blue, as she resonated her consciousness with Kafka's and the Matrix itself, focusing and getting a good reading of her own divination.

That was before she saw what she sought after.

Fu Xuan gasped and immediately re-casted the spell, making the Matrix stop its function without the user and Kafka slowly descended to the ground.

"That's...why you're here...?" Fu Xuan asked, full of disbelief as she looked at Kafka.

Kafka smiled slyly and knowingly in return, enjoying the look of betrayal and disbelief painted so evidently on Fu Xuan's face.

"All for that ?!"

Kafka looked down, an unreadable expression in her magenta eyes. "Well ? Not what what you were expecting ?" Kafka asked, tilting her head a little although she had totally expected the reaction.

"I cant believe it..." Fu Xuan said, looking at Kafka in horror, as if the woman before her had told her the most atrocious lie ever known to mankind.

"But the Matrix of Prescience cannot be wrong..."

"What did you see ?" Stelle asked, looking at the Master Diviner worriedly.

"Kafka has nothing to do with the Stellaron." Fu Xuan said before landing her eyes on Stelle. "But you...it's you..."

Stelle looked so confused to what Fu Xuan was talking about, for it wasn't her that had seen the same visions as Fu Xuan did.

"Ha ! Absurd ! I'd never have thought it..."

Then her golden eyes landed on (Y/n), gaze slightly scrutinizing.

"And you...I'd never considered the relation..."

"Talking like this isn't solving anything, Master Diviner..." (Y/n) said, hands crossed over her chest. The other members of the Nameless, and the Amicassador of Sky-Faring Commission looked all confused the same.

Fu Xuan shook her head before nodding in Kafka's direction.

"Ask her yourself. Take as long as you wish."

Fu Xuan left in a hurry after that, saying something about needing to see the General as soon as possible. The remaining party remained unsure of how to proceed. And since it was both (Y/n) and Stelle that were directly regarded by Fu Xuan, it was now known that Kafka knows something about them.

Stelle looked unsure of how to approach the situation, but Welt nodded at her encouragingly. "It's fine...you go ask her. I know you have many questions for Kafka yourself."

Though Stelle looked determined, she was quite unready. "Mr. Yang..." she started. "I think I still need more time to figure out what I want to ask."

"Don't worry." (Y/n) said, putting a tender hand on Stelle's shoulder.

"I'll go first."

"Well...I have heard of you, former Lady High Elder." Kafka said with a little awe in her eyes. "But to see you up-close and personal isn't really the same feeling as he had implied it to be."

"Which do you prefer, Lady High Elder ? Or the Saltator Lunae ? Or even the name you go by with now ?"

"(Y/n) is fine." (Y/n) said, raising up a hand to stop Kafka.

"I had only just woken up from a slumber. So I do not know of your misdeeds to have you scoured by the cosmos itself. But what I do know of is Blade's affiliation with the Stellaron Hunters faction." (Y/n) said with a shake of her head, (h/c) locks swaying elegantly as she did so.

"To know that is more than enough. The Master Diviner wasn't aware of Bladie's intentions of meeting you here. But to see through me consciousness and be aware of it must've been a little surprising to her." Kafka answered simply and honestly, looking straight into (Y/n)'s eyes.

She couldn't be lying. Not that she needed to anyway.

"How was he aware that I was awake in the first place ? Not even the General anticipated my awakening." (Y/n) said with a curious tilt of her head.

"Well...that's because the Destiny's Slave had said so before." Kafka said with a small chuckle, remembering something quite amusing to her.

"You should've seen the look on Bladie's face when he was announced that he stood a chance to meet an intergalactical treasure that had laid dormant for centuries..." Kafka said tenderly.

"It was such...an odd encounter...with emotions so strong. I wonder if I'll ever experience something as intense." The cuffed woman said with a light chuckle.

"For the first time since I met him...he looked alive."

"For the stars had turned against us while we adhered to the laws...perhaps the tide of fate pities us for leading such miserable paths of fate to let us reunite in unfortune events..." Blade said to himself, red eyes clouded with memories, heart beating again with reason.

Unknowing that there was a certain concerned young woman eavesdropping in case his Mara had reacted in him. But oddly, there was no reaction even though Blade was reminiscing about his past.

"Dancer of the moon...shall time and fate allow us..." she heard him gasp softly through a rare soft but broken voice.

For the first time since Kafka had met him, she heard him weep.

'How envious...' Kafka thought to herself.

"With my immortal and life-infested shell, I'd never let you stray away again..."

"My beloved home of stars...(Y/n)..."

[namazunomegami]

emperor!sukuna x imperial concubine!reader

a/n: part 2 of my self-indulging mess. I had a lot of fun writing him and his drabble got finished way before I developed the whole plotline for Geto lol. I'll try to complete Gojo today or tomorrow and Toji is in the works yaaay!!

Also, I'm so surprised my Geto drabble got so many notes in such a short time!! I wouldn't expected people to be remotely interested in my writing but now I'm getting confident.

And finally, I can guarantee that this reader is gender neutral.

Likes and reblogs are appreciated <33

wc: 674, I know, I know, Geto got the princess treatment from me but sometimes less is more <333

cw: historical AU, scheming, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of sudden infant death syndrome, betrayal, accusations of abortion, execution, nudity, mentions of poisoning, suggestive

credits: i used a colored manga panel instead of a fanart but I have no idea who did the coloring so feel free to help me credit their work. And again, my precious @notveryrussian did the proofread, luv ya mwah <33

MDNI PLEASE! I'm gonna find you and kick you in the butt if you do. If you’re not comfortable with dark content or anything mentioned in the warnings just scroll, there's nothing wrong with that.

His mandate of heaven is very different from Gojo and Geto. Sukuna is a ruthless tyrant, he enjoys crushing any nation he deems either threatening or undeserving to even exist next to his borders. His palace is a snake pit, full of betrayal and backstabbing. Executions are frequent and he needs no valid reason to sentence someone to death, he enjoys the bloodshed and the sight of lifeless bodies. You can’t survive that place acting kind and humble. Sukuna specifically torments his concubines physically and mentally for the sheer enjoyment of it.

His court is probably the most competitive. You need to be as ruthless as he is, you need to become a schemer. One of his high-ranking consorts takes you under her wing. She lets you spend leisure time with her, and somehow, she ends up telling you way more sensitive information than she should. She once managed to give him a child, but the infant sadly died days after they were born. She complained about how hard that pregnancy was and that she’s afraid of going through it again, even though she’s attached to him. And not long after this conversation, she fell ill. Retching out everything she ate, her stomach burned and ached. She was so weak her cycle was two weeks late. She trusted you enough to have you fetch her a specific herbal tea to ease her pain and grant her some dreamless sleep.

And that’s the moment you decide you’ll use everything you know about her to cast her down and take her place.

You accuse her that she’s pregnant but wants to abort her baby. Your story is so intricately constructed from all the details you knew that his officials are on your side without hesitation. She watches you horrified, desperately telling him that nothing could be so far from the truth. Sukuna decides to believe in your words and orders for the consort to be executed. Finding pure joy in how she wails and begs for forgiveness. At the execution, he studies your face, every little detail and reaction and you were aware of that. It’s time to impress him. Your face is still, you don’t even flinch when her head is severed by the neck. The eunuchs come for you at night.

He loves and loathes this tradition at the same time. The servants want to protect him, so they deliver you stark naked to ensure you won’t carry any weapons. Fools, as if a weak and trembling creature like you could ever hurt him with a mere dagger or a sharpened hairpin. Yet it makes you look like an offering. A sacrificial lamb. Maybe because you are.

Some primal instinct tells you to balance your inner strength and innate fear of him. Pull back your shoulders, straighten your back, don’t even think to conceal your private parts. Let your fingers quiver and the sheer dread in your eyes seep through. He mocks you. Almost laughs at you while sitting comfortably on the intricately carved shelf bed, wearing a loose bright yellow robe, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. There’s no reason for him to not do this though, he’s a god, the son of heaven, therefore, everything about him is perfect.

The first thing he asks you is if you’re satisfied with your pathetic attempt to improve your position. You don’t dare to tell him that you feel the guilt rotting your insides. He confesses that he was poisoning her meals, he wanted to watch her wither away slowly and enjoy her suffering, but you ruined his plans. He might spare you, you’re a stupid little thing, you couldn’t have known. He warns you that you need to do so much more if you want to be on his good side. You need to be absolutely despicable to earn his praise. Though you feel content having reached your goal and getting to spend a night with him, somewhere deep down you hope you can leave his chamber in one piece or, at least, alive.

[sexlapis]

-> to take a life

❀ : levi ackerman x reader

ᨳ  ࣪ . cw : gender neutral! reader, reader almost kills someone, levi does kill that someone, descriptions of blood & murder, angsty, hurt/comfort (kinda), implied age gap, vomit, hyperventilation, levi being soft for reader, levi comforting reader in his own levi fashion, idiots in love

ᨳ  ࣪ . summary : reader almost kills someone and is sad. levi comforts them in his own disturbing way.

wc : 1k

a/n : this is vry late but thank you all for over 1,000 followers :) i typed this up very quickly. i just had to get it all out bc i am in my levi phase again. he is so papa ♡.

*

ringing is all you hear. your body trembles and shakes, gasps and short breaths escaping your dry mouth.

tears blur your vision as you stare at the now almost lifeless man before you, lying limp on the ground. blood flows out of his mouth as he gurgles, pools next to his body, coats his shirt, his eyes still wide open. a shocked expression on his face.

your fingers twitch and you drop the bloodied sword from your hand and fall to your knees. your hands are stained red. now and forever.

heat curls from your stomach up to your throat, and before you know it, bile and acid is rushing out from your mouth and splashing to the floor, next to the man you have just near slaughtered. you gasp, heave and groan, crawling backward and away from the consequences of your actions. you’re on the crisp of hyperventilating.

a hand grasps your should from behind and you jump violently. on instinct, you grab the hunters knife strapped on your hip and swing behind you aimlessly. the person grabs your wrist and stops you with no effort at all. your weapon falls from your clammy palm.

“hey! calm down, cadet. it’s just me.”

you know that voice. your captain. levi.

you turn to face him. he looks relatively unharmed and unphased.

levi stares at you, his silver eyes concerned. you must look like hell, rogue painted on your face, and face wet with tears and snot. then his eyes look behind you. at the man you had stabbed repeatedly. who’s life was fading away quickly.

the tears are uncontrollable as you choke out, “i..i killed him. i killed him! i had to..i couldn’t..”

you look behind you and look at the dying man, mumbling incoherent gibberish to try and justify your actions. levi stays quiet.

you’re trying to process what’s just happened before levi takes your forgotten knife into his own hands and stalks up to the half-dead man.

levi kneels down beside him at his head. the soon to be corpse gargles and garbles, trying to lift his hand up. then levi is shoving the knife into the man’s throat. turns it half clockwise to ensure he’s finished the job.

you gasp, covering your mouth. your heart skipping at the display of violence. you knew levi was ruthless and was only doing what was needed, but you couldn’t help your reaction. you weren’t used to this, not like everyone else on the squad was. you would never get used to the bloodshed, the death, the gore. your heart couldn’t handle it.

“you didn’t kill it. i did.”

he says it so casually. like it means nothing. dehumanises the person too. this must be his sick, odd way of trying to make you feel better.

‘no you didn’t kill him. you injured him to near death, with no chance of recovery. i just finished him off. don’t worry about it.’

levi is familiar with this. violence, murder. he justifies it like he has his entire life. he is doing it to survive.

he kneels down in front of you. you’re staring at the floor, almost sobbing again. levi sighs.

to be honest, levi knew you were too soft for this life. he’s surprised you’ve even made it this far. he expected you to have quit or have been dead by now. but he’s not going to lie to himself and say he had no part in how you’re alive today. he won’t lie to himself and say that he doesn’t keep an eye on you more than the others, no matter how guilty that makes him feel. always watching out for you. more protective of you than anyone else. he can’t help it. levi’s fond of you. you softened his old, stone, ancient heart. just a little.

but now isn’t the time for heartfelt confessions. he’ll justify your actions like he justifies his own.

“look at me.” levi commands. when you don’t look up, he repeats himself, softer this time. “_____, look. at. me.”

you whimper and sob a bit and look up at him, eyes red and teary.

“you killed somebody. yeah, you have blood on your hands..but you only did what you had to. you killed him because you had to survive. it was either you or him.” he speaks firmly. “you’ve killed now. and you will kill more. there’s no way around it.”

but i’ll try to take the burden for you as many times as i can goes unsaid.

you whine sadly at the truth of his words. you wish it didn’t have to be like this, but what you want does not matter. you have to do what you must to survive in this world.

“understand?” levi asks, surprisingly gentle.

his change in demeanour should’ve shocked you more, but you’re not. not really. you can’t act like you don’t notice how much more gentle levi is with you. you just assumed it was because you were young, the youngest on the team, more sensitive. you’re not so sure now.

“mhm-hm.” you nod, sniffling and shaking the dizziness from your head.

levi hums and stands. “good. now wipe your fucking nose. jesus christ.”

there’s the levi you know and love. you’re too tired to laugh, so you just huff in slight amusement and wipe your face with your sleeves as best as you can.

“can you stand?”

you nod quickly and attempt to stand on your shaky legs. levi softly grabs the side of your arms and helps you to stand. he briefly caresses your arm with his thumb.

you take some shaky deep breaths and clear your throat.

levi waits patiently until you’re finished calming down. he keeps his hands on you.

“you ready?”

you nod in affirmation. you’ve been doing a lot of nodding.

levi nods once and he’s already walking, guiding you in front of him with his hand on your back. “let’s get out of this shithole.”

[adaptacy]

The General Drow's Celebration {1/2}

Pairing: General!Minthara x Durge!AFAB!Reader

{Part 2}

Warnings/Tags: !!NSFW!! MDNI. BG3 Act II Heavy Spoilers. Minthara is, uh, evil. Exhibitionism, minor foodplay, bloodplay sorta (but its not either of yours), straight-up murder (also not either of you), general cultish things. Mention of poison. Part 1 doesn't include the actual smut but it will happen in part 2! Which I'll finish writing... eventually. Some Drow/Undercommon terms are used, I'm not super familiar I just looked shit up, there's a glossary thingy at the end. :)

Word Count: 3.4k

“Pitiful display. Bold of you to slight me so poorly. Your loyal fleet has been charged on account of your mistakes. Each throat slit. Yours is next.”

“Please, Nightwarden, you do not–”

“Silence,” she cuts back, crossing one of her legs over the other, her stern gaze intimidating even if it wasn’t backed by a history of bloodshed. “Abysmal absence of respect. Treacherous.”

“Shall we admit them to the cells?”

The drow snickers, waving her hand in a quick snap. “A waste that would be. We need the space for more valuable criminals. Slaughter the underling,” she commands, and the executioner raises the blade, but her palm lifts, and the order is paused. “No. Throw them to the shadows. Let them fend against the forsaken.”

“As you command, General,” the man replies, dipping his head and gathering up the chains that bind the betrayer’s wrists, dragging the pleading goblin out of the hall. 

At last, it is empty. The line of criminals, cultists, and true souls sorted through. Another day comes to an end with the drow on the throne, another day bearing the late Ketheric’s title, wielding his power, and fate spins along as it should, weaving her pristine web of influence. 

“General,” you hum, taking the opportunity to sit on the stone arm of her claimed throne, and she turns her head to look at you, a proud, passionate fire behind her eyes.

“Glorious, isn’t it, my love?” Minthara raises her hand and her slender fingers dance on your chin, feigning a gentle touch before she grips it, her thumb pressing into your jaw as she yanks you closer, her fanged grin growing. “Do you wish to taste the power?”

You smile in return, holding her gaze until she eyes your lips, the pride in the red of her eye soon joined by a similarly hued lust. You stay quiet for a few extra moments before finally responding. “I would like nothing more.”

Her tongue runs over her bottom lip before she pulls you closer, the kiss teasingly tender, and she breaks it in an instant. “Drink it in. My power is yours, dark one. Together, we reign.”

 You inch forward, attempting to meet her lips again, but her grip grows more firm, and she forces you to remain stationary. “Nobody else is here,” you whisper, glancing between her lips and her eyes, and her gaze lifts to yours as she smirks.

“Precisely. How shall I lay claim to my property without an audience? You are too exquisite to be concealed,” she whispers, her words catching on your lips, her breath only serving to tease you further. You feel the faint sting of her poison, and it only drives you to deepen your yearning. “Tonight, we will feast. A new age of True Souls shall be celebrated. And I will claim you before our guests. You will be desired by all, but earned only by me. My slayer. My pet. My oloth.”

“He would be proud,” you praise, inching closer to her with your body, though your head remains still. 

“I’m inclined to agree. A shame his sacrifice was a necessity. As is the cycle of hierarchy,” she states, releasing your chin, but pulling her own head away before you have a chance to take advantage of the freedom of movement. “We will coddle a new generation of warriors. Not with affection, but dedication. Swaddle them in viscera and nurse them to victory.”

“We’ll raise a force of blood-bringers,” you agree, and Minthara smirks, huffing out an amused exhale.

“Blood-bringers. A marvelous title for a marvelous army.” The drow presses her palms to the stone arms and pushes herself up, standing before the empty room. “Sine Thelids, we will be.” You feel an uncanny itch in your palms, and you shift uncomfortably. Your tadpole squirms, and Minthara lowers her head, sensing your edge. “Control, my slayer. We will march soon. The world will be ours – all thralls along with it. You will have your vengeance, and I shall have mine. Havoc will come to Orin, but it is the blood-bringers she will fear.” 

“We will claim her life,” you second, standing up as well and joining her side, watching her as she looks over the empty throne room. Many times, she’s been seated off to the side. Only ever gazing at the throne that Ketheric so often sat in. With your help, however, her placement had changed. Rightfully, she had taken his power, his lead, just as you had helped her take his life. Ketheric was the first to fall, but he would not be the last. 

“They shall bow to us. Each and every one. Extinguish their lives, and ignite their influence. We will be almighty,” she purrs, her chin tilting up ever so slightly, red eyes scanning the room one final time before she turns back to you, and holds out her hand. “Come. We must prepare for the banquet.” 

It came as no surprise that Minthara had already planned an outfit for you; she had a plan for the banquet, and she intended to follow it through perfectly. That required your cooperation, even in the slightest of details. You weren’t complaining – it was a fine choice she’d made. Less surprising still was the nature of the clothing. 

A personally tailored leather clasp for a neck piece, attaching to a particularly revealing shirt, cut with a wide triangle down the middle of your torso, leaving little to the imagination. You didn’t mind. Chances are, nothing would be left to the imagination by the end of the gathering, so you were going to take what you could get. 

You clean yourself up of any lingering grime from the day, enjoying a short but relaxing bath before dressing yourself up in the clothes she had prescribed to you. Once you’re sure that you’re ready, you make your way downstairs to the audience hall, where Minthara waits at the bottom of the stairs, her hand offered to you as you approach. 

It would be an understatement to say that suppressing a smile was difficult – pitted against her appearance, your physical display of enjoyment was far out of your control. Minthara was the type to look good in anything, though she usually stuck to her usual dark drow armor and her black, rigid evening clothes. 

Tonight, however, was special. Her outfit reflected that in a way that almost took you by surprise. 

Both of you were well-aware of the possibility of an attack. Not an attack on Moonrise, not an attack on The Absolute, but an attack on Minthara – with Ketheric the unkillable now, against all odds, gone and dead, there was sure to be turmoil between the higher ranking members of the cult. Minthara had been the one to dethrone him, to rob him of his power and his breath, and thus she had claimed his authority. 

Not everyone was so willing to allow such an opportunity to slip out of their grasp. Z’rell had been taken care of even before Ketheric, as she posed the most significant threat. A few others, too – mostly those who had previously disrespected Minthara, made to pay their dues in the light of her new title. 

Tonight, she would feast with potential enemies. Betrayers. She may feast with attempted assassinations, and it was unlikely the night would sail without bloodshed. 

You did not expect a full suit of armor, but you had expected something more protective than the clothing she had decided upon. Her upper arms and shoulders were well-guarded with black leather shells, attaching to an equally thick leather that ran down her sides, though where defense mattered most – her abdomen, the simplest and most lethal place to strike – her purple skin was left revealed to the world. 

Her legs were wrapped comfortably in black pants, and you know immediately that this is not an oversight on her part. Hardly so. It is a test. An offering – an opportunity for her silent enemies, her weakest spot left vulnerable to their hunger for power, a surefire bait. Minthara had not forgotten about her endangerment. She embraced it. Welcomed it. Challenged it.

“It fits,” she states, smirking as you take her hand in your own and step carefully down the final few steps, allowing her to drink in your appearance just as you had soaked in hers. “A good thing. I wish no harm upon our tailor – I have already removed his tongue, but I suspect he may need his fingers to continue his work. A troublesome ordeal seeking out a new tailor would prove,” she chuckles. 

You turn to face her, and she takes your other hand as well, her red eyes judging your expression. “You look nice as well, General,” you praise, not bothering to hide your wandering gaze as you trail over her chest, the bra piece more than familiar to you. You dare to lift a finger, pulling your hand from hers, and snake it under the band over her sternum, pulling it down ever so slightly, your temptation getting the best of you. 

Her slender fingers trace up your wrist, wrapping around and pulling your hand up to her mouth, pressing her lips to the back of it. “We shall be objects of desire tonight. Some may see vulnerability. It is in that liability we find our strength. Neither harm nor pleasure shall be brought upon you unless it is by my hand. That is an assurance.”

“They worship our power. Soon, our bodies alongside it, yes?” You ask, and Minthara smirks again, giving your hand another kiss. 

“Our power. Our lethality. Our bodies. And we will worship one another.” At last, she releases your hand, and it returns to your side, though she still holds the other one. Gently – hardly afraid of losing you, or allowing you opportunity to slip away, for she knows you are hers, and she is yours. It is for that same reason that you don’t tighten your grip around her fingers. There is ample security and assurance without the need for a strong hold. Her gaze shifts to large wooden double doors, where light shines through the crack at the bottom. “Our squadron awaits. Ah,” – Minthara tilts her head – “Our blood-bringers.” 

Providing a controlled nod in response, she leads you into the banquet hall, the table already arranged with the offerings of a feast, and ‘True Souls’ line the longer sides of the table, and at the head there are two empty chairs. Empty, that is, until Minthara guides you towards them, and you take a seat at one while she stands in front of the one beside you, releasing your hand in order to address the group. 

You know everyone stationed at the table, though you aren’t quite familiar with all of them. You know each person’s name, but not everyone’s current rank, or how they served Ketheric during his reign. Those who you do immediately recognize consist of The Warden, who’s standing remains unchanged, the halfling Linsella, who has been granted an increase in authority, with Minthara permitting her reign over verified prisoners and hostages, allowing her to convert said captives as she pleases. Sitting two seats to your left is the skilled spy Marcus, who you recall once yearned to be the right-hand of the late general. As far as you’re aware, he has remained a mere spy, but high in the ranks nonetheless. 

“A waste of precious time it would be, were I to spare words of mourning for Thorm,” Minthara announces, all eyes pinned on her, save for yours. “He served well, but he serves no more. I plan no delegation over the loss. We move forward, as the Absolute commands,” she continues, and the True Souls each dip their heads, murmuring out quiet agreements; ‘In Her name.’

She does well to hide the truth. You have always admired her, both for her prevalence in battle and her combined willingness and capability to achieve further power where she sees possibility. Few manage to look past morals as she does, few are as earnestly eager as she is with their dreams. 

Her faith was crushed, the truth revealed in ways that would desecrate any other’s ambition, had they been in her shoes. Alas, she is Minthara of house Baenre, and she seizes opportunity the moment it presents itself. With one stone in her grasp, and an oblivious, willing army at her disposal, she poses a far larger threat to the other chosen than they may have ever thought possible. 

“You sit in his throne,” A man speaks up, two chairs to your left – Marcus, the spy, “You serve his meals, you command his troops, and yet you disrespect his name wholly.” He speaks with a growl, and dares to rise, making his intentions clear to the room, his target included. 

Minthara pulls her torso back, and she meets his eye, her palms resting flat on the table. No longer hidden beneath the table, a greatclub is grasped tightly in his right hand, his knuckles tinted white from the tension in his hold. “Ketheric disrespected his name to far greater lengths than I would ever have the words to manage. And so creatively, too,” she chuckles, her tone brimming with clear-cut confidence, and although you attempt to reassure yourself, you feel your heart skip a beat, momentarily silently fearing for her safety. You see no daggers, no means of defense on her person, and yet she smiles all the same. 

Marcus scoffs, grimacing, leaning towards the drow, the fire in his eyes fueled entirely by resentment. “Attempt no trickery by mouth – Our General wanted you disposed of, and I intend to carry out his orders as my final judgment by the Absolute.” 

“Pathetic. Loyalty to a dead man serves no greater purpose – only a grave.” Minthara sneers, her next words joined by a tone of stable, smooth mockery, “Do you expect him to rise again? Fulfill his wishes, and his head will roll back onto the neck I severed it from? The Absolute has already judged you well and true. I’m afraid your devotion is tardy. Had you served him so faithfully while his corpse was animate, perhaps he may have led a longer rule. Alas, I shall reward your allegiance, and reunite you with your Bossk.”

Marcus’ scowl pulls wrinkles in his forehead, his arm twitching – the split-second jerk being movement enough to warn Minthara of his next move. He charges, raising his greatclub, eyes pinning a target on her skull. You’re not granted a chance to so much as flinch before Minthara retrieves a dagger from its place in a sheath attached to the bottom of the table, raising her arm as the blade is precisely swiped across the man’s throat, spraying the immediate area in his blood. 

That immediate area being you, Minthara, the two True Souls sitting closest, and part of the prepared meal on the table. 

The spy’s body falls with a final gurgle, and Minthara spins her blade to capture it in a firmer grip, her blood-kin gaze serving a silent order to the stunned audience. “Rath’arg. Do any other false believers wish to challenge me? To take my head would be a grant of my authority. Do strike now, daring lambs, for tonight I am willing to grant mercy and bestow quick deaths upon traitors.”

Her breath is steady – she is not tense, but firm, and the True Souls exchange glances with one another, each and every one remaining silent and submissive. Though her fine attire is splattered with the blood of a betrayer, she remains unphased. True to her mission, allowing no room for distractions, nor for doubt. 

When she is assured, she sets her dagger on the table beside her, and she dips her head. “Very well. Feast, warriors, for we need our strength. In Her name,” she states, her eyes closing for only a moment. 

“In Her name,” the party recites, beginning to indulge themselves in the food less affected by the close death, but Minthara turns instead to you, her own personal repast, free from the intermingling of her underlings. The True souls speak, quietly, amongst one other – discussing the Absolute, the rise of their new General, and similar such topics. 

Her bloodied purple hand is offered to you, and you accept, rising from your seat at her physical request. Few eyes are drawn to you, for the time being – you don’t bother to take count, to truly decipher how many pay attention to your activities. Minthara pulls you closer, her free hand cradling your jaw and wiping Marcus’ blood from your lips, allowing her to kiss you without risking a taste of the coward. For a short moment, the contact is broken, and her nose brushes with yours, gaze intense with a roused lust from the bloodshed. “However intense our reign may become, however great our influence grows, know that at the center of my drive is where you lie. You are mine, as I am yours. We are bound as one – in body, in soul, in power.” There’s a pause in which you make an attempt to reconnect your lips, but she pulls back, her mouth instead moving towards your ear, her tone lowering to a whisper, ensuring only you may receive her message. “Bow as we may to the Absolute, pray as we may to their lies, you are my true quar'valsharess. My deity, and mine alone.”

Knowing how much she risks by admitting that in a room full of the Absolute’s followers, however quiet of an admission it was, is more than enough to make your heart flutter, stomach pleasantly uneased by a disturbance of butterflies. You pivot as a hand on your hip guides you to press your back against the edge of the table, and the dishes behind you are pushed aside, likely much to the dismay of the nearest True Souls. Minthara’s lips trail over your lightly bloodied neck, no longer caring whether or not the blood invades her taste, merely enjoying the flavor of her success on your skin. 

While she delivers no verbal commands or physical guidance, you understand her intentions well enough to assist her in carrying them out. So, you lift yourself onto your ankles and hop just enough to steady yourself on the table, immediately finding that she invades the space between your legs, bringing her hips closer to yours. Her kisses continue to trail down, littering every available space that her selected clothing allows her to access. Hands run along your sides, caressing over the full length twice before they linger on the sliver of skin between the top and bottom pieces of your outfit. When her mouth reaches that section as well, your leather pants are dragged downward, shedding her territory of protection, vulnerable to her touch – to her command. 

When they bunch at your knees, thighs against the wooden table, your only means of defense being your thin, weak layer of underwear, Minthara pauses, standing up straight once more. A hand presses to your chest, pushing you backwards, though your hips remain stationary – you lay back, displayed across the bloodied feast as if you were one with it. All eyes are on you, now, but Minthara’s attention is the only attention that matters to you. Even if you don’t threaten to disobey or refuse, her palm is firm on your chest, forcing you to keep position. 

“True Souls,” she addresses, instantly gaining the room’s undivided interest. “Speak my title.”

“General Minthara,” the audience replies, and her smirk grows, revealing flashes of her hungry teeth. 

Louder, she repeats; “Speak my title.”

“General Minthara!”

Her hand slides up your body, finding purchase around your throat, and she meets your gaze, her prideful smile meant entirely for you. “Tonight, we celebrate two deaths. The death of Late General Thorm, and the death of The Nightwarden. Indulge in the wine and feast as you deem fit – a rebirth occurs this evening. A rebirth of values. A rebirth of power. A rebirth of The Absolute.” Her gaze lifts, meeting the intrigued smiles of her soldiers. “Hear the testament of my reign – straight from the voice of darkness,” Minthara chuckles, eyes drawn once more to you. “Speak my title, dear oloth.” 

With a lustful smile, you oblige; “General Minthara.” 

“General Minthara,” she agrees, leaning over the table to meet your lips, hand tightening around your throat, robbing you of breath in the two ways she knows best. 

(1) Oloth – Darkness (Drow) (2) Sine Thelid – Great Conqueror (Undercommon) (3) Bossk – Lord (Undercommon) (4) Rath’arg – Coward (Drow) (5) Quar’valsharess – Goddess (Drow)

[demonsword586]

Leviathan Bloodshed story part 1

(I apoligise for spelling mistakes,I been writting this for two days and I can't feel my arms. I forgot how long the prolouge is... Also I think this may go slower than I anticipated,sorry. Also I might take a day off of this,my arm feels like it wants to go on it's own funeral)

(bg inside the castle of Hades)

Mc: It somehow seems like it's loud outside the palace today...

It was unusual for the devils of Hades,who always lived by a strict discipline,to make a ruckus.

Barbatos: That's because it's Halloween today!

Foras: Everyone must be busy preparing for the festival.

Mc: They have Halloween festival in Hell too??

When you asked,the devils around you stared at you as though you were a total hillbilly.

Glasyal La Bolas: Ha ha,how many times do we have to explain to this small human that the things in the human world were made under Hell's effects?

Glasyal spoke pathetically with a bad-tempered smile.

Foras: Don't be impolite to a guest of his Majesty Leviathan,Glasyal La Bolas. It is not a sin to be stupid.

Barbatos: Hmm? His Majesty Leviathan said 'ignorance is a sin.' though.

Foras: ....Mc,let me apoligise. These guys are all fools.

Mc: (Wait,you just said I'm stupid...)

You felt victimized and glared at the three devils,but to no effect whatsoever.

You were sometimes confused if the devils of Hades were kind to you or if they disliked you.

Barbatos: We might as well! The son/daughter of Solomon is curious about the Halloween festival and we have a Halloween festival going on right now!

Barbatos: We might as well go and enjoy it together!

Foras: Barbatos,how many times are you repeating the phrase 'we might as well'?

Glasyal La Bolas: Ahh,a festival. It is such a melodious word. It is a dangerous day where the smallest conflicts can cause a riot.

Glasyal La Bolas: Although it will never happen in Hades.

Glasyal La Bolas spoke with a look of ecstasy,then turned gloomy and muttered in dissatisfaction.

Mc: Is the festival in Hades very diffrent from the festivals in other countries?

Barbatos: There would be no better answear than seeing it for yourself!

Barbatos grabbed your hand with a look of excitment.

Foras: Wait,Barbatos...! You should have fun at the festival after you finish your work...

Barbatos: I see! Foras please take care of my job as well!!

Foras: ?!?!

Glasyal La Bolas: Hahaha! I knewthis would happen. Foras,what are you doing? Go and grab Barbatos by his throat!

Foras: ........Never mind. We needed a devil to guide the son/daughter of Solomon around the festival,so we'll just say Barbatos is in charge of it.

Glasyal La Bolas: Pfft,boring.

You heard the conversation of the remaining two devils while Barbatos positively dragged you through the corridor.

Fortunately it looked like Foras would deal with it.

Mc: (I'm sorry,Foras...!)

Apoligizing for something you didn't do,you headed for the streets with Barbatos.

(bg changes to the streets of Hades)

The faster Barbatos walked,the harder your heart pounded.

A festival in Hell?! It has to be several times as big and fun than festivals on Earth.

Once you and Barbatos left the palace,you headed for the central square where they all gathered.

Mc: (Such flashy street decorations! Mouthwatering street food! Lively people laughing and talking!)

Mc:....Where are they all?

Next to Barbatos who stopped at the square,you tilted your head.

The biggest crowd you have ever seen was gathering in the square,but it had neither the street decorations nor street food.

(bg changes to a giant fire surrounded by devils)

Instead,there was one thing that was diffrent from the norm in the center of the square...

Mc: ( A mega sized camp fire?!)

There was a fire that burned as tall as the palace in the central of the square.

Even while sweating because of the heat,the devils were holding hands with their family or friends around it.

They were not in their normal uniforms or medival clothes,but in the most casual type...so,how humans on Earth dressed.

The devils who looked like humans except for their horns were smiling and greeting each other.

You felt tears welling up in your eyes from the Earthy atmosphere you haven't felt in a long time.

Mc: They're in diffrent clothes from usual.

Barbatos: Hmm! They say the costume for this year is 'human'!

Mc: Haha. The humans on Earth are probably wearing devil costumes.

While you felt amused,Barbatos stayed quiet nect to you. You thought it was strange and looked...

Barbatos: Isn't it hot and splendid and beautiful? Although it's not as beautiful as the sun!!

The flames were dancing in Barbatos' eyes

Mc: Do you mean...that the Halloween festival in Hades is enjoying a mega sized camp fire?

Barbatos: A mega sized camp fire? Ha ha ha! That's a stake!

Mc: A-a stake?! Who committd such a heinous crime that they'll be burnt on a stake this big?!

Barbatos: Ourselfs from last year.

Mc: ....?

Just then a young male approached the flaming fire almost precariously-

And took off the noose around his neck then threw it inside the fire.

YAYY-!!

When the huge flames instantly deveoured the noose,the onlooker devils cheered and clapped.

The noose wasn't so big,but it burnt brightly with a huge purple light when entered the flames.

The devil's bangs were burnt and curly in a funny way,as he backed away and bowed to others.

Barbatos: Those nooses around the necks of the devils in Hades,mean that they dedicate their lives to his Majesty Leviathan.

Mc: What?! Then what's that supposed to be? Treason?

Barbatos: It's determination!

Mc: ???

While you look doubful,the others followed suit of the brave devil and began threwing nooses to the stake.

The devils rushing towards the flames and shimmered backwards so the fire woudn't devour them.

It looked like they were dancing to the wavering flames.

The long shadows streaching out from their feet around the fire looked like petals of a huge flower.

Barbatos: Halloween is the day of the dead. In other words it is a day for the 'dead'.

Barbatos: So we perform this ceramony thinking that we burn our previous deaths and wait for the next ones.

Barbatos: And...we the living devils carry the lives of the devils who protected Hell before but died before us.

Barbatos: By burning our old nooses and hanging new ones around our necks,we are promising to walk along the same paths as we honor their gone lives.

Barbatos: So when we burn the old nooses,we claim new nooses from the person we want to risk our lives for after his Majesty Leviathan

When the nooses of all those in the square went into the fire,a woman approached the young man who burnt his noose first and hung a new,clean noose around his neck.

The woman's cheeks were flushed and she had tears in her eyes.

You could see grannies hanging nooses around young children and middle-aged devils hanging nooses around their best friends.

The same scenes continued here and there and you somehow felt a twingle of emotion in your nose.

Mc: ( This is beautiful)

It wasn't the magnificent or joyful atmosphere you anticipated but the Hallowwen festival of Hades had a coolness to it like that of a sacred ritual.

The devils with new nooses around their necks went to their houses and changed the tall wooden pillars standing before their houses.

The pillars were taller than an average male adult devil and had devices to hang things at the end.

Mc: ...Those pillars standing in front of all those houses...

Barbatos: Ahh,are you talking about the simple hanging devices they prepared to die if anything happens to his Majesty Leviathan?

Mc: ..simple hanging devices..

Barbatos: Hmm! They fix it or place new ones every year on this day!

Barbatos: It's troubling if they need to die but the pillars are weak and break.

Barbatos explained all the savageness with a smile as glorious as the fire in the center of the square.

Mc: The devils of Hades are too extreme...

Barbatos: That's the source of our power!

Mc: Yea,I'm still worried...but think that they're very wonderful at the same time

Barbatos: !!

Barbatos looked a little suprised.

Thanks to his distincts features of his face,the big and small shadows of the fire danced across his face,but his eyes wavered most promitently.

Barbatos: Son/ Daughter of Solomon,I think you...

Small devil: Son/ Daughter of Solomon! Have you not placed a noose around your neck yet?

Almost at the same time Barbatos opened his mouth with an overwhelmed look on his face,a small devil that barely reached your knees tapped your calf and spoke to you.

Failing to realize as the adorable devil who resembled a puppy was asking you with a look of anticipation,you shook your head.

Mc: No I don't normally hang a noose around my neck...

Small devil: In that case,may I place one on you?

Mc: Hmm? On me?

Small devil: I know you're not one of his Majesty Leviathan's subject. Even so,this is a festival!

When the small devil spoke with a beam,you succumbled to his adorable appearance and nodded.

Mc: I won't say no then.

Small devil: I-i-in that case,could you..perhaps put a noose around my neck too?

Mc: Huh? Of course.

Small devil: Wowww!!

When you bend your knees before the small devil who now had tearful eyes and hung your head,he hung a noose he weaved with his small hands around your neck.

Looking up,you saw a blushing devil with his eyes tightly closed,holding the noose to hang around his neck in his hands.

When you took the noose from his shaky hands and put it around his neck.

Mc: All don-

Small devil: I like you too, Son/ Daughter of Solomon!!

Mc: Huh?

Startled by his sudden confession,you finally saw the devils around you.

Devils:...............

Mc: (T-They are looking my way with terrifying eyes!)

You didn't know when they stopped clapping and cheering but they all stared at you.

Mc: B-Barbatos...C-Can you explain what's happening...

Barbatos: Huhu..you hang nooses around the devils' necks on Halloween with your closest friends or lovers!

Devil with a loud voice: Pfft! Had I known,I would have spoken with the Son/ Daughter of Solomon first!

Devil with a loud voice: I thought the son/daughter of Solomon would not participate in this ritual!

Sensitive devil: I'm so upset! So jelaous! If I throw him into the pit of fire and hand over my noose again!!

Small devil: Hehe,hehehehe

Barbatos grinned and spoke lightly

Barbatos: It looks like you're loved in Hades!

Just as the devils burning in envy as hot as the stake grounded their teeth.

Mc: Huh?

With everyone staring in your direction,you saw a familiar face at the back of the crowd

(Levi appears)

Mc: (Leviathan..?)

For some reason,Leviathan was in an unfamiliar suit.

Mc: ( Is Leviathan also dressed as a human like the other devils?)

Already curious about 'What would Leviathan do while the others perform the ritual at the stake?' you furtively ran towards Leviathan while everyone directed their envy and fury at the small devil.

(bg changes to streets of Hades)

He was leaving the square as though he wasn't there on a business but passing by.

Mc: Levia....

Just when you were about to call him to stop out of happines,you closed your mouth before even calling his name.

There were lots of devils talking and laughing not too far away,

Heading somewhere on his own, Leviathan's face had nothing but sadness,let alone a smile.

Mc: ( Can I talk with him...?)

Although all devils,especially the seven deadly sins gave off difficult aura for normal people to approach,Leviathan emitted that aura way more than the others.

Responsibility,emptiness and a deep sadness that surpassed it.

That was what you felt from him.

You somehow felt yourself from difficult times from him

Mc: ( I don't want to leave Leviathan alone!)

You knew the diffrwnce between someone who wanted to be alone and someone who had no choice but to be alone....because you were the latter.

Mc: Levi! Where are you going?!

You pretended to be brighter than usual and gathered the courage to approach Leviathan.

When he turned to your direction,you gasped out loud,because you were overwhelmed by the beauty when you faced him head on.

The transparent eyes under his thick,long eyelashes especially took your breath away!

Mc: ( It's like I can understand why Barbatos who worshipps the sun would be awed by Leviathan)

Leviathan: ....Don't call me like that. I shall kill you.

Leviathan: What are YOU doing here instead of enjoying the festival?

Mc: I was enjoying it! Look,I even got a noose.

Leviathan: (angy jely glare) .......

Leviathan 's eyes momentarily turned vicious,but you were oblivious to the fact as you asked him a question.

Mc: Leviathan,where are you going yourself? Not enjoying the festival.

As you were going to compliment him that he looked good in a suit he normally didn't wear...

Leviathan: I am going to the graveyard of my fallen associoates.

Mc: ...?!

Leviathan: Because Halloween is the day of the dead,I am going there to commemorate them.

Mc: I-I see...I wasn't aware. I was only excited about the festival.

Leviathan: Me going to commemorate the graveyard of Hades,has nothing to do with you..

You felt sheepish at his cold tone

You wanted to talk with him some more but !ou coudn't think of anything to say.

And Leviathan watched you with cold eyes.

Leviathan said no more as he walked past you.

You hung your head,unable to say anything more to him.

You heard the sounds of Leviathan's footsteps receding.

You suddenly felt immensly sad.

And Leviathan's footsteps stopped.

Leviathan: Near where I'm going...

Although his voice was small and from afar you coudn't hear it properly,you turned back to look at him.

Leviathan has also turned his back to look at you.

Mc: What?~ I coudn't hear you!~

You shouted,cupping your hands around your mouth like a trumpet in case Leviathan coudn't hear you.

Leviathan chuckled,it was definettly a cold and spechless laugh but he smiled.

Leviathan: There's a shop near where I'm going that sells jewels.

Leviathan: There are rare jewels that allow people to become closer.

Mc: (If you're going to talk from auch a distance at least raise your voice..nevermind,I'm going to him)

You hurried to Leviathan

Mc: Jewels??? Closer???

Leviathan: I'll buy you one as a present

While you approached,you could hear Leviathan's voice well

Mc: ( If I approach,I don't become estrangled)

You don't know what the source of Leviathan's sadness was but you thought you knew what to do

Normally you sould have asked WHY?? but this time you shouted energeticlly instead.

Mc: Thanks Levi!!! I'll be waiting for you!

Leviathan: Don't call me that. And stop shouting so close to me,it hurts my ears.

Leviathan: I am the one giving you a present. Why are you telling me to go where you are and offer it to you?

Mc: ( Suprisngly he's answearing everything and hes even twlling me to pick him up!)

Mc: ( I think....I get it a little..)

Mc: Until when should I go meet you?

Leviathan: About two hours later,go where I am and accept my present

Leviathan: Barbatos guide him/her well

Mc: Huh? Wheres Barbatos?

Barbatos: Yes,your Majesty!

Mc: What the...! When did you come here?

You jumped up at thw bright and reliable voice behind you which has been quiet until now

Meanwhile Leviathan turned as though he was going to continue and spoke coldly.

Leviathan: Also take off that noose around your neck,it doesn't even suit you!

There was great displeasuee on Leviathan's face as he said those words.

Mc:(Don't tell me you were jelaous this whole time?!)

Mc: Then put a noose on me yourself!

Mc: But I won't take this one off. The devil who put it on me looked really happy

Mc: Still,I'll put your noose on top of it.

Leviathan stared at you as though he wanted to say 'what a loud and dislikable being'

But the harsh words never came and Leviathan turned back on his way.

Barbatos: You're looking happy son/daughter of Solomon!

You smiled and nodded as Barbatos placed a firm arm around your shoulder and led you back to the central square.

But this time you stared at the giant clock tower instead of the stake where devils were dancing

Mc: ( I hope two hours go by quickly...)

Two hours later..

(Bg changed to Hades streets at night)

By the time thwenooses around the devils necks were all changed to new ones and the hanging devices have been fixed

Barbatos: It's nearly the time for us to go!....I bet that's what you were witing for me to say

Barbatos was smiling as he led you through the sqaure

You wanted to meet Leviathan as soon as possible and were ready to run to him...but...

Barbatos didn't even run but laid down a coffin that he was carrying with him-the coffin didn't have any strings but was always floating behind him- he opened the lid

Mc: Barbatos,we don't know where Leviathan could be...but don't you think he's waiting if we don't hurry?

Barbatos: This is the fastest way.

Barbatos winked at you,climbed inside the coffin and layed down

Barbatos: You should come in too!

Opening his arms with a tempting smile,Barbatos urged you. And you lied down next to him since you had nothing else to do.

Lying on his side to make space for you,Barbatos' firm chest pressed against !our shoulder.

Barbatos: I'm closing the lid now.

The lid closed over the jam-packed coffin with you and Barbatos in it.

(Bg changes to darkness)

Creakkkkkk.....

Mc: ( ...I-is this a funeral experience?!)

You shuted your eyes in fear the moment the lid closed and was absorbed in the most coplicated feeling

You evaided an angel swinging a scyte in your face but were now shut in a coffin while you were still breathing.

But the dark fearful feeling you expected never came.

Mc: (In fact it's suprisingly cozy!)

The coffin was full of the scent of the man emating a sweet rosy scent and his arms were soft and warm.

And for some reason it felt like you were liyng on a dark but spacious and cozy lawn!

You were suprised when you furtively opened your eyes.

(Bg changes to a universe)

Mc: Weren't we...inside a coffin?!

Barbatos: We the devils of Hades carry our own universes inside our coffins instead of the dead.

There was a sky full of stars- no a universe spreading before your eyes.

Barbatos: Through this space we can travel whereever we want to go. That's why no one can evade the devils of Hades.

Mc: Oh! So are we going to where Leviathan's coffin is?

Barbatos nodded

Meanwhile stars whipped past loudly and swiftly as though finding their way to Leviathan's coffin

Mc: But why aren't the other devils going to commemorate? Why is Leviathan going on his own?

Barbatos: Because it's a special graveyard that his Majesty Leviathan made himself.

Barbatos: Those buried there are the childhood friens of his Majesty Leviathan,the great king who build Hades.

The look on Barbatos' face darkens as he lays next to you and watched the stars past.

Barbatos: His Majesty Leviathan was kidnapped by angels when he was very young, he was raised and experimented on...and abused by them for a long time in Heaven after which he barely escaped.

Barbatos: Managed it out alive,might be better fitting...because as far as I know the other children all died

Young devils,kidnapped,death. The words should never have been connected in a sentence,hit you over the head in a succession.

Barbatos: At the time,four of the young devils,imprisoned with his Majesty sacrificed themselfs to help his Majesty Leviathan escape.

Barbatos: His Majesty Leviathan said he'll never leave alone but this is what they said to him

Barbatos: You'll become a kig,so cross the rivers of Heaven to return to Hell and build the strongest kingdom that will come save us. That will be fine.

Barbatos: That's what they told him....but they knew they woudn't be able to return. So they gave his Majesty the objects they treasure.

Barbatos: Those objects are said to be buried in the graveyard

It was impossible that young devils kidnapped to Heaven could have anything properly valuable that they could treasure

But whatever the objects were,there was no way that the ones entrusting the objects and the one being entrusted with them woudn't consider precious

Mc: (He visits the place where such things are buried...every year,alone..)

Barbatos saw you darken and smiled with pity.

Barbatos: I once visited the graveyard and saw their names written on the gravestones.

Barbatos: Numbers,1987,1988,1990,1992...

Mc: Numbers?

Barbatos: The angels would never have given proper names to young devils who were test subjects and entertainment!

Mc:...!

Young children who were called by numbers and not even proper names.

Leviathan was one of them.

Feeling like the noose was tightening around your neck,your eyes burned.

Barbatos: They were his Majesty's saviors and heroes of Hades

There was sadness in Barbatos' eyes

Barbatos: But his ordels didn't end there,even after the young heroes sacrificed their lives.

Barbatos: Because of the fact that he escpaed Heaven,his Majesty Leviathan and the devils of Hades had to prove that they were not spies from Heaven

Barbatos: And we had no choice but to determinate the country's rules stricly.

Barbatos: To show actions that do not harm Hell,to show their attitudes that are concerned the most for the safety of Hell

Mc: ( I think I have a vague idea of where Leviathan's sadness,responsibility and weight came from..)

Barbatos: Currently,Hades is the most hellish place in Hell with the strongest devil as king.

Barbatos: Once his Majesty Leviathan became king,he never missed out on visiting them on Halloween.

Barbatos: Even if that day he had the most brutal battle.

Perhaps it was because no matter how many brutal battles Leviathan had fought,he could never get over the horrors of his childhood.

The devils of Hades all said,that Leviathan was the most powerful king in Hell. Because he overcame such a big ordeal when he was young...it's understandable that he's the strongest devil.

You felt solemn and grave when you thought of the tragedy that Leviathan and all those nameless devils have endured

Barbatos: You're sad upon hearing this. You really are devilish.

Barbatos stroked your head softly with a large hand.

Just then you felt a dream-like situation you once experienced flash before your eyes.

(bg changes to Mc and Minhyeok's home at Earth)

Minhyeok: People don't experience bad things because they're bad people or because they have a reason to.

Minhyeok: They're just unlucky.

Minhyeok: At those times...people who don't collapse,resenting the unfairness of such fates are surely great.

Minhyeok: You're such a person.

(bg changes back to the universe)

Mc: ( I remember Minhyeok once said that to me...)

Whenever you felt sad about your parents deaths,Minhyeok consoled you like this.

Mc: ( Was there a devil saying things like this...to Leviathan too?)

Mc: It would have been nice if I was there with Leviathan at that time...oh,of course..I might not have been of help to him much..

Barbatos: I think the same way sometimes too. Because at that time,I also didn't know his Majesty Leviathan.

Barbatos smiles bitterly

Barbatos: And you would have been a great consolation to him,

Mc: How can you be sure?

Barbatos: Because you consoled me just now.

When Barbatos smiled at you brightly like the sun,the stars sprinting gloriously above your head slowly came to a stop.

Barbatos: It looks like we're connected to his Majesty Leviathan's coffin. Shall we get up?

Said Barbatos,moving closer as though embracing you,then covered your eyes with his hand.

(bg to darkness)

Barbatos: You can open your eyes now.

With Barbatos' voice,the hand covering your eyes receded.

At the same time,there was a creak-and the lid on Barbatos' coffin opened.

(bg changes to a graveyard)

When you opened your eyes and sat up,you felt your heart poundind a little.

Mc: ( This is strange..I'm going to face Leviathan's sadness. There's no way I should have butterflies in my stomach!)

And when you finally stood up and extracted yourself from the coffin.

You saw a black stone wall and a stone floor shining black and...

Leviathan on the floor,covered in blood

And not too far from him were scaterred angels who looked way worse

The dozends of angels were dead in a cyrcle around Leviathan

Mc: Leviathan!

Barbatos: Your Majesty!

You and Barbatos shouted in union and rushed towards the fallen Leviathan.

Leviathan was on the cold ground with his eyes closed,the rain pouring on his entire body.

The graves around him were perfectlly fine unlike Leviathan.His scarlet blood rain in puddles through the gaps in the stones.

Big and small wounds ripped his clothes and skin to make red traces on his pretty body.

Blades of light dug brutally in his muscles.

Mc: Leviathan!

Leviathan:....

When you knelt down to check on him,the rain and blood seeped into your knees

Barbatos quickly put his fingers below Leviathan's nose and placed hia ears on his wounded chest.

Then he grabbed your shoulders with a rare dark expression.

Barbatos: It looks like I should go.

Mc: W-Where to?!

Barbatos: Every sceond matters. It looks like his Majesty Leviathan is in critical condition.

Barbatos: I will return immedietlly to thw place and bring back the devil who can heal his Majesty.

Barbatos: Until then please stay by his side...son/daughter of Solomon.

You tried to make an expression that was reliable as possible and nodded to Barbatos.

Mc: I'll be waiting.

Barbatos didn't even reply to you properly as he went back in his coffin and hurriedly closed the lid with a boom!

You stared at the large coffin that swallowed Barbatos and looked back at Leviathan.

Mc: S-still..h-he's still alive...it will be alright...Yeah its going to be alright...

Mc: (because if Leviathan really did die,Barbatos woudn't go looking for a doctor.)

You clutched Leviathan's cold hand and muttered.

Normally he would say 'I will hang you if you don't unhand me' in disgust but right now he was unmoving with his eyes closed.

It began to rain harder,turning the air cold.

Leviathan was laying on the cold floor like he was cold,you felt sorry for him.

Afraid that his body might go completly cold you bend over to resusicate him.

But just then the most feeble white steam curled out od his mouth.

Mc: ( It's weak...but he's breathing properly)

Touched you looked down at his mouth.

Leviathan:....

Mc: (Leviathan...is mumbling something)

Between his light breathing Leviathan was quietly saying something.

Leviathan: Run now...I'll hold...them back...here...

Mc: ...!

Leviathan who was collapsed on the floor started shouting despretlly at someone.

You precipitously stared at the pieces of gravestones that rolled next to him.

Studying a few perfectly intact graves compared to the others who now looked close to ruins.

You could easily guess that Leviathan sacrificed himself to protect them.

Leviathan: This time...don't die..

Leviathan's old sadness creeped out his mouth and scattered into the cold air.

Mc: Leviathan..come back..Your nightmare is over now...please come back from that memory that's colder than here...

You begged Leviathan with a tearful voice,shaking his shoulders and gently slapping his cheeks but he only minutely groaned.

Just when you thought you wanted him to stop saying those pitiful things,you found yourself kissing Leviathan.

When your temperature risen because of your tears touched Leviathan,his lips warmed up as though they were slowly thawing.

Mc: ( Please...if the souls that saved Leviathan before are here...please save him once more!)

Feeling guilty for asking the young souls who met such a merciless end for a favor,tears flowned down your cheeks.

Your hot tears ran down your cheeks and sepped into yours and Leviathan's lips.

Flash!

Just then a clear blue light shone between Leviathan and your lips.

Leviathan: ....

Leviathan's eyelids twiched...and slowly opened.

Leviathan: Solomon...

Leviathan:...his son/daughter.

Mc: Leviathan!

Leviathan momentarily pulled a confused expression as though he coudn't disentangle reality from his dream.

Maybe he was feeling confused between the borders of life and death and not fiction from reality.

He was scrowling because of the pain but watched you with a vague look in his eyes.

Mc: Leviathan,are you awake...?

Leviathan: ...What happened?

Mc: That's what I wanted to ask! What went on here?

Mc: I came because it was the appointed time and you were on the ground in a mess like this!...

Leviathan: Ahh...

Only then did Leviathan scrowl his pretty forehead as though he just remembered what had happened before he collapsed.

Leviathan:It looks like there were spies in Hades. Since angels knew I was alone and attacked this place on time.

Mc: Spies?! In Hades?!

Leviathan: It's not suprising.

Leviathan: But...these angels were crafty. I would have ripped into them if they attacked me from close by,but they threw a chakram made of light from afar...

Leviathan: Urgh...

Mc: Leviathan...!

Leviathan bit his lips and curled up as though he was in pain.

You bit your lips harder than Leviathan and cried in sadness.

Mc: ...I heard from Barbatos. About what is buried here in this graveyard and how important it is to you.

Mc: But still,protecting them at the cost of your own self like this...!

Mc: That's...even they woudn't want that!

You said and closed your eyes tightly.

You did so because you found it hard to see Leviathan in pain,but also because you were afraid of his cold comment that would follow.

However...you thought Leviathan would say 'what does that have to do with you?' as he normally did,but he was only staring at you with a dreamy look in his eyes.

Mc: ...Leviathan?

Leviathan: I cherished this place..out of atonement for them.

Leviathan: What's more,their intact remains aren't even buried under these tombstones. I know that.

Leviathan said,his eyes on you.

Leviathan: I can simply build my broken heart again and make new tombstones to remember them.

Mc: Then why would you go to these lenghts to...

Leviathan: That's not what I was trying to protect.

Leviathan took something out of his pocket with a click of his tongue. It seemed like the slightest movements made the wounds covering him throb.

And handed the thing he took out to you.

Mc: Isn't this...?

Leviathan: You..don't tell me you're going to say you forgot what you came all the way here for?

( They're rare jewels that allow you to get closer to the person you love)

Mc: Don't tell me..this is what you were trying to protect...

Your hands trembled so much that you coudn't take the purple jewel from Leviathan's hands.

Leviathan: It is a rare jewel. But if you say you don't like it now...

Drop...

You almost snatched it out of his hands before Leviathan even finished talking and cried.

Mc: *sobbing* Leviathan,you really are..an idiot!!

Just when you shouted,wiping away the tears from your eyes with the hand holding the jewel.

Flash-!

A tremendous light burst from the jewel that was drenched with your tears.

Leviathan: ...?!

While you and Leviathan were both startled,the light emanating from the jewel surrounded you both.

Then,our body that had been feeling so cold you had,began to heat up and your palm touching Leviathan began to burn.

Just when you were about to let go of Leviathan's hand in suprise,he held on harder so your hand woudn't run away.

Mc: Leviathan..?

Leviathan: (looking flushed af) Ugh...what the...Hell is going on..

Leviathan glared at the jewel in your hand and panted.

You both knew as soon as you saw the other,about what your states were like.

The energy flowing from the jewel had entered Leviathan and your bodies, and was egging your impulse and desires.

Your feverish red eyes took in every part of Leviathan's body.

The scarlet blood oozing out of his wounds looked sweet to the taste and his pale cheeks seemed to be waiting for your hot hands.

Leviathan: *gulp* ...

Like the masterpiece of masterpieces that God made,the delicate color of his hair he alone possesed shone even more myseriously in the rain.

Then,Leviathan's eyes met yours.

Although you coudn't see in yourself in the mirror,you could instinctively feel that you had the same expression as Leviathan.

Mc: ( Leviathan...wants me now too...I can feel it...)

But Leviathan was currently severly wounded. You coudn't act on your desires in a situation like this...

Leviathan: Get over here.

Leviathan reached his hand off the floor and pulled your arm.

There was only one answear you knew in a situation like this.

Mc: Okay...!

You bend over as Leviathan led you.

[gracelaurie]

Falling into your ocean eyes 🌊❤️ | Orm Marius x Fem!Reader

Part 3 🌊

Warning ⚠️ : enemies to lovers, angst.

for the next part ➡️ masterlist

Y/N woke up in a dark and quiet room. She didn't know how long she had been fainting, but she guessed that she had been trapped in this place for more than 8 hours. She felt very cold and maybe soon she would freeze. It’s because she had been in Atlantis for too long, and wearing surface clothes that were very thin in fabric. She could indeed breathe in the ocean like ordinary Atlanteans, but she wasn’t used to it.

She felt really dizzy. Trapped at the bottom of the sea, and don’t know how to get out of this room. In the room there is a large mirror, she saw that her face was getting pale with red marks on her neck because of Orm choked her.

When she looked at her neck, her eyes suddenly caught sight of someone behind her. She didn’t realize, someone with a beautiful ocean blue eyes wearing armor, staring at her without blinking.

“What do you want?” Y/N asked, turning her head, looking back at Orm.

“I need your help,” Orm said in a low tone, “I need the help of your surface witchcraft thing in this war.”

“I don't want to go to war, I just want to meet my father.”

“You won't go to war, you’ll still be imprisoned here,”said Orm, “what I need is your ability to manipulate their minds, confuse and mess with their minds, like what you did to me.”

“You will lose, King Orm,” Y/N said firmly, “I have seen everything that will happen to you. With the help of my magic or not, you can’t fight the fate.”

“Then you’ll never going to anywehere.” said Orm. He quickly dived away from Y/N and left her alone.

A red flash that came out of her hand struck that room. It was the 15th time she had done the same thing but she still couldn't get out of that room. It appears that her Telekinesis cannot work because her body condition is declining. Her strength became increasingly weak because she was shivering from the cold.

Y/N closed her eyes, someone first came to her mind, the reason why she did all this...

“Father?”

His daughter’s voice reached King Nereus’s ears. suddenly he froze in place. War was everywhere, but suddenly it all disappeared and all he heard was,

“I am here. in this place, a kind of prison, Orm put me here,” Y/N said with a voice that wanted to cry, “I know it’s not a good timing, and…. I just want you to know that I'm here. In Atlantis.”

His daughter’s voice had stopped. He could feel that his own daughter was shivering from the cold there, but he had no other choice. He choose to not see her own daughter now.

***

“That trident doesn’t change who you are,” Orm said it with full of vengeance and hatred. “A half breed bastard. Atlantis would never accept you.”

“I’m not the only one,” said Arthur, “I know you took Mera’s sister to Atlantis, you know that she is also a same bastard like me.”

“That’s different.”

“Because you’re in love?” Arthur grinned.

Orm glared and answered firmly, “Not at all,” and then he prepare to start the attack.

“Then by bloodshed. Do the Gods make known their will.”

A fight between Arthur and Orm begins.

Y/N could see it all through her vision. Her feelings were mixed, she felt her heart beating very fast when Arthur attacked Orm repeatedly. What’s Orm felt when fighting was also connected to Y/N. Sad, anxious, jealousy, hatred.

Y/N closed her eyes. Doing what she has always done to Orm.

In the middle of an extremely fierce battle, a soft voice came to his ears, “Orm….”

He lost his balance. He didn’t hear anything other than the silence Y/N gave him. Orm saw Arthur from afar running towards him to attack him.

Orm felt Y/N's heartbeat start to slow down. He just froze. He didn't hear anything except the voice of a woman shivering and dying, “Orm....”

Suddently Orm’s trident was broken into pieces. And Y/N stopped breathing in her prison room.

“Finish it.” Orm said.

“Yield the throne.” Arthur said.

“Mercy is not our way.”

“Maybe you haven’t noticed brother.” Arthur said, “But I’m not one of you.”

“Do it. Kill me!” Orm shouted, “I killed her, she died!” Orm groaned. His voice was painful.

Before they met in each other in Atlantis, they were connected 5 times through the magic she created. All this time Orm thought that it was just a dream, but deep down in his heart, he knows that it really happened and real.

[pochipop]

＃GENSHIN IMPACT !! ♡ — ON THE DARK SIDE OF THE MOON (CHILDE X READER).

#. synopsis! — childe knows he doesn't deserve this, but he just can't let you go .

#. characters! — childe .

#. warnings! — angst .

#. word count! — 1k .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @yyolkchi (reblog/spam) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

#. a/n! — this is my "from the vault" era. most of the things i'll be posting for a while will probably have been started anywhere from a few months to over a year ago. i have a huge google doc just stocked with fics that i started and never finished, so i'm trying to wrap some of them up neatly enough to post them and at least let them see the light of day lol.

It’s always lonely at the top.

On nights like this, Childe realizes that now more than ever. Snezhnaya is his home, —but in a more abstract sense of the term. He knows the snow-covered lands and the bitter chill of frost like the backs of his scarred hands, and yet this nation feels less like the soft place he can fall upon each time he returns from somewhere else. It’s the center of his youth, the place that fills most of his heart, but things have certainly changed since he was little more than a young boy who loved making angels in the snow. The world moves faster now; days bleed into weeks in a matter of moments, and there are many times Childe wishes that the weather could freeze time like it does everything else around here.

Still, maybe it’s better that it doesn't. Even if it did somehow, he’s not sure how he’d spend that time anyway. A part of him is all too certain that he’d waste it away, losing sight of his goals within seconds.

He’s always been too driven by madness for his own good.

The viscous truth of it all is that Childe craves acceptance, but doesn’t really like to be loved. Even as you sleep next to him, his arm clutched in your warm, forgiving grip; he doesn’t know how to put such thoughts to the wayside. Selfishly, he wants you. Sometimes, it feels like he needs you. Realistically, though, Childe knows he shouldn’t have you. You’re not much of a fighter, and your only ties to the Fatui are through him, which he holds an insurmountable level of shame and regret for. If not for him, he’s certain your life would be a lot less complicated.

You’ve even said so yourself, albeit only jokingly. Those few little quips hold just enough water for Childe to drown himself in them, though. He wants to push you away as his lungs fill in and oxygen depletes, but you’re so goddamn intoxicating that he can’t bear the thought of parting ways. You snuggle closer to him as if seeking the heat of his body, —as if seeking the protection it offers from any ghoulish figures that could pop up in your otherwise sugar coated dreams.

Childe isn’t sure what he’d do without this, —without the ability to come staggering home to you. Truthfully, you’re more of a home to him now than Snezhnaya has ever been. He yearns for nights like this more than you’ll ever know, more than he’ll ever be able to articulate properly, because Celestia knows he’s never been very good with words.

Not when they’re genuine, anyway.

He can put on a show just fine, put that charismatic mask on and make strangers fall to their knees at his feet. But once they get a glimpse of the monster inside that lusts for violence and bloodshed on every battlefield, they run for the hills. And Childe isn't naive enough to wonder why. He knows, probably better than anyone else ever will, that he is hard to love, and even more difficult to be loved by.

When everything is going steady, he likes to send some ripples through the water just because he can. He pushes buttons he knows he should leave alone, —maybe because he can’t help himself, or maybe because deep down, he wants to push you away. You can’t just up and decide that you want to see him rot his way back into the earth beneath his feet if he flips all the right switches and makes it happen at will. There’s no disappointment to be had there if he’s the one who incites it; like flicking a match and watching your house go up in flames.

If he does it to himself, there’s no reason to be sad about it.

Self-sabotage has always been kind of his thing. Still, here you are with your soft tufts of breath fanning against him, trusting him not to let himself snap to the point of no return and burn everything down around you both (figuratively and literally.) And for the life of him, —Childe doesn’t get it. He really doesn’t. You’ve always wanted a simpler life, one you know he can’t give you. . . But here you are, and he doesn’t have the heart to push you away like he knows deep down that he should.

If he’s being honest with himself, and this is one of the rare times that he is, he knows he should be building his walls high enough to force you out if that’s what it takes. Everytime you lay with him like this, he knows he’s stealing that tranquil life you’ve always wanted away from you, and it eats him up inside. He’s not what’s best for anybody, nonetheless for you.

He knows, he knows, he knows. . . He really should just—

“Hey,” you say softly, and his resolve crumbles away like the walls he tries to build between himself and you. “Can’t sleep?”

Childe looks over at you and pauses for a few moments, admiring the way you love him, even when he doesn’t deserve it. Then he thinks to himself that he’s never truly deserved it, and the cycle begins again. He hums in acknowledgement, and you hold him closer, like you’re trying to mend all his broken pieces back together (even if you don’t know it.) It won’t help him sleep, but it feels nice to be cared for like this. To be loved, to be seen. . . To be stripped bare in the moonlight that spills in from your window is a blessing sent straight from Celestia, and it makes him wonder just what he’s ever done well enough to have ended up here in his lifetime.

“You’re thinking too much,” you say.

He almost laughs, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of your head.

“Yeah,” he agrees, “I know.”

[beginnerblueglass]

I finished Titans S3 and it's everybody's problem!

No, I have not yet seen S4, I just felt that seasons 1-3 formed a perfect little three-part story, and I HAVE SOME THOUGHTS

About six years ago I was a staunch Marvel fan living in a Marvel household, and I was in deep. DC was not spoken of in my home, EXCEPT for a little annoying cartoon called Teen Titans GO! that my younger siblings were obsessed with. I never liked it very much, but I was forced to watch.. a lot of it. At the time I had a habit of going onto IMdB every day and watching all the new trailers. Imagine my surprise when I noticed a new trailer for a show called Titans. "Oh, they're making a live-action show about the Teen Titans? How interesting!" Then I watched it. I was horrified. Horrified. Why is it so dark? Why is it so violent? Why does it look so scary? Why is there so much blood? Why is Starfire killing someone? Did that grown man dressed as Robin, covered in blood, just say "f*ck Batman"? What is happening? I decided right then that I never wanted anything to do with this show, and for the next several years I heard nothing more about it. What happened since then? I don't know. I grew up and became interested in DC? After I saw it while browsing Netflix, I looked it up. Most of the reviews were meh to negative, but I decided to give it a try, just starting with a few episodes.

And oh my goodness?????

This show surprised me so hard.

Season one is rough. It's very dark and gritty and violent. Like the creators are saying, "Look at me!! I'm edgy!" The subject matter is extremely dark, there is minimal music and almost no soundtrack, the language is coarse, and the colour scale is ✨grey✨. At first, this was very offputting, especially since seasons two and three have a completely different tone. The Doylist explanation is just that the creators were doing the cliche "kid's media adapted for adults, and make it unmistakably for adults," thing. But the Watsonian explanation? Ooh boy, that's interesting.

One thing that I found so captivating about this show is how the audience's viewpoint is halfway inside the main character's head. So much of this show is Dick Grayson's internal mental landscape presenting itself onscreen. We see his dreams, visions, flashbacks, memories, and hallucinations. Whole episodes take place inside his head, and the things going on in his head regularly escape. This happens at times on some level with the other characters, but when Dick is onscreen it's like he pulls the audience in and we see things the way he sees them. This show does "immersive" very well.

Why is the first season so dark, Watsonian-ly speaking? (Watsonian-ly?) Because this is set during the darkest time in Dick's life. He's depressed and suffering from an identity crisis, he doesn't feel like a human being and has cut himself off from everyone who cares about him. Why is there no soundtrack? Because pop songs aren't really going through Dick's head right now. Why is there little to no humour? Well, Dick isn't really feeling the jokes at the moment. Why is there so little colour? He's seeing everything in bleak shades of grey (of course, Kori comes into his life in a pop of colour 🥰). He is completely immersed in a cycle of violence and bloodshed that he doesn't know how to get out of, and it's torturous. The tone of the season matches his mental state perfectly. It is easy to watch? No, but if we're looking at it this way, it shouldn't be easy.

Dick begins the healing process starting in season two, and the tone immediately shifts. There's colour and a soundtrack!! There's humour and even some happiness! The Doylist explanation, of course, is that audiences didn't want more seasons like S1, so they made the tone a little more friendly. But the Watsonian explanation is that Dick is in a better place, mentally and emotionally, so his surroundings respond in kind. This continues through season three.

Now, the action-centred plot lines in seasons 1-3 range from being really interesting, to really boring, to being absolutely riddled with plot holes. Don't watch this show for that reason. Watch it for the character-centred emotional arcs. They don't disappoint. Seasons one, two, and three form a three-act story, centred on Dick's emotional journey expressed in his relationships with Bruce Wayne on one side, and Jason Todd on the other. Dick's journey of blame, anger, running away, self-examination, and forgiveness is repeated in each season, but it doesn't feel repetitive, it feels symmetrical.

(I already made a post about how I feel that they dropped the ball right at the end of season two in this regard, so the "forgiveness" aspect of the cycle didn't really land, but that's why God gave me an imagination.)

In season one, Dick blames Bruce Wayne for making him into what he is (a killer, someone who is capable of terrible things, who has hurt people, and will continue hurting people, as he doesn't know any other way to live). He is so steeped in that anger that he has become someone he barely recognizes. A year ago, he ran away, cutting himself off from everyone and everything. After being thrust into a mission to protect a young girl who needs his help, Dick is forced to do some self-examination. In the end, he realizes that healing for himself will only begin if he takes some responsibility for his own actions and forgives Bruce.

In season two, since he is no longer blaming Bruce for all his problems, Dick is blaming himself. Again, the resulting anger causes problems, he tries to run away, and he ends up being forced to take a hard look at himself. He realizes that his running away is selfish and isn't fixing anything and that healing, both for himself and the people he's hurt, will only come once he takes responsibility for his actions and forgives himself.

In season three, there's a three-way system of blame between Dick, Bruce, and Jason. Jason blames Bruce and Dick for setting him up to be Robin and then (as he sees it, and he's not totally off-base) giving up on him and casting him aside. Bruce blames himself for failing first Dick, then Jason. And Dick, having learned to stop blaming either Bruce or himself, blames Jason for turning evil. Whew! The cycle I was talking about comes to a crescendo in this season, and the resolution is so satisfying. This time, it's Jason who lashes out in anger and it's Bruce who runs away. Dick still has to do the "self-examination" thing though. In the end, he comes to realize that (you guessed it) healing for all the people involved will only begin when each party takes responsibility for their actions and forgives each other. Dick begins with himself; he realizes that he is partly responsible for the way Jason turned out, so he is the first to extend his hand in both an apology and forgiveness, which begins the healing process, which literally cleanses Gotham City. It's beautiful, ok?

The themes of fatherhood and family trauma are so subtly interwoven throughout the story, but it's powerful. The show shines a spotlight on the effects of all the father/son relationships and makes them the beating heart of the storyline. It's actually beautiful how Dick's final internal battle ends with a vision of both his past and his future: he sees himself as a little boy with his birth father, who announces that he will always love Dick no matter what, and then he sees his own future daughter. Father/child relationships are a powerful force in this show. They are the source of great pain, harm, and damage, as well as great strength, hope, and love.

This show has changed my brain chemistry.

One more thing. Dick is portrayed by Brenton Thwaites. Do you know who he is? Let me now confess that he was my first celebrity crush. I saw him in The Giver and I was gone, but I don't think I'm biased when I say that he is such a good Dick Grayson it isn't funny. He plays "internally haunted" extremely well, as well as all the other things Dick Grayson needs to be. Now Iain Glen as Bruce Wayne really threw me at first, but I have to admit he has grown on me. He's an older Bruce Wayne, kind of the spiritual successor of Adam West, minus the campiness. Not the best Bruce Wayne in cinematic history, but give him a chance. His scenes with Dick and Jason are *chef's kiss.*

There's more to the show than Just Dick, Bruce, and Jason, but like I said, they're the beating heart of the show. I could go on, but I have to go eat dinner now, and get started on season four. Happy ending, here I come!!

[loonarmuunar]

Just finished Saw II. And I have MANY OPINIONS

I don’t think the larger cast works in the runtime for the film. I think it COULD work! But with the fast pacing and shorter runtime, it ends up being awkward.

Saw was great bc it hurt. The audience is given time to connect with the characters. We see them try over and over again, only to end up right back where they started.

But in Saw II there just isn’t any time to learn much about anyone. I don’t think we even learn some of the characters names? I couldn’t connect to any of the characters, besides Daniel. There’s just. Very little to no downtime in the film. We don’t get to know a lot of the characters motivations besides “get out of here”.

Like. Why did Obi kidnap them?? He said he had to, but. What does that mean. Was he being threatened? It feels odd to me that they went with that, when they could’ve just said he did it for money or something. Or just had Amanda take the others, like she did in the first film.

Tbh Addison (had to look up her name) doesn’t even seem to have any distinct traits?? She’s a prostitute, but we learn that in the weirdest way. Xavier (I think?) says “The only door you know how to open is between your legs.” which. I gotta say is such a ridiculous line that it’s funny. Does he say this about every woman??? Was this just a lucky guess?? Is he just REALLY GOOD at telling who’s a prostitute???? That’s just the silliest way I can think of introducing her profession akdksk.

She might be quieter than most of the other characters (maybe??), but I think it’s more that the others are constantly screaming at each other. You could possibly say she stays in her lane?? But there’s just nothing much you can say.

I can’t care about these characters while they’re living, and so I can’t care about them when they’re dead.

Also it looks more like they just tried to kill off as many characters as fast as possible. GOGOGOGO SHOT IN THE HEAD BURNED ALIVE NAIL-BAT NERVE GAS EVIL BOX EVIL BOX!!! Like Idk what’s the point when you could just. Have a smaller cast, and have more time for other stuff like. Learning who they are.

Saw ii is just a lot of shock value. Which, I don’t MIND shock value sometimes! Sometimes it’s awesome to see how special effects will make it look like someone got split in half, or exploded from the inside, or whatever. Sometimes it’s Sick As Hell! I am not above watching gore for gore’s sake!! But in the particular instance, I think shock value is the WORST THING you could do here. Because it’s a very strong veer away from the quieter, more anxiety inducing gore and fear in Saw.

Going from Saw’s slow paced dreadful horror, exploring two characters deeply, and occasional bloodshed, to Saw II’s huge cast with not enough time to explore any of them, and non-stop blood and gore, is just frustrating.

Also! The gore and ickyness just kinda loses its value for me! In Saw they cut away occasionally from the gorey parts. And I LIKE THAT. Whatever you can imagine will always be worse. Writers typically don’t tell you what happens in a Noodle Incident, bc whatever you imagine will be far more interesting. And it’s not like we were missing out on anything, because there were other instances of onscreen blood and gore. Imagining how it would look seeing Lawrence sawing off his foot, or Amanda cutting open someone’s stomach, is a lot more effective than seeing it happen.

Saw II wants to do everything Saw did but MORE. Gorier louder bigger more characters. But it ends up being a movie with no substance.

It’s honestly not a bad movie on its own merit. If it was its own film, it would be pretty okay to me. But it fails to even live up to Saw, much less stand next to it.

Maybe Saw III will give more context to things. I don’t know. Shrug. Would love to see some other takes on it! I want to understand why others like this movie :]