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flowersandbigteeth · 8 months

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Your Naga Lord saves your Mother

A/N: I've had this oneshot sitting in my drafts in a while, combining some old asks

Naga Lord (Leander) x F Maid reader

Word Count: 6K

General Plot: You and your family are staff in the house of a Naga Lord. Things go sideways when your childhood friend's father falls for you mother.

W: Description of murder, yandere behavior, spitting, otherwise sfw soft yandere fluff

More SFW fics here

“Hurry up now,” your mother said brightly as she ladled a bit of porridge into a bowl for you to eat. “Master Dervin will be cross if you're late with his breakfast.”

Though the two of you were mere servants in the Naga Lord’s home, she always fed you first before you had to do your duties for the morning.

She glanced up as you scarfed down your breakfast, her eyes warming as they met your father’s.

“Good morning, my favorite ladies,” he said, kissing her and ruffling your hair.

“Papa! I have to work!” You pouted, but he just snickered, stealing your spoon and taking a bite of your porridge.

“Don't bother making yourself neat for that snake bastard,” he chuckled as his hands slid around your mother’s waist.

“Charles, please. Someone might hear, and we'll be out on the street!”

He shrugged. As you finished your meal, your mother arranged the morning dishes for the Naga family on a silver cart, taking a moment to smooth and repin your hair before you were to serve them.

Your father was sure to spit in Dervin’s bowl when your mother looked away, making your eyebrows jump. He put a finger over his lips, winking at you.

“I'm off to the stable,” he said, grabbing an apple as he went. “Have a nice day, my pretty girls!”

You blinked at the contaminated bowl, wondering if you should throw it out.

“What are you staring at?” Your mother chided, pushing the cart towards the door. “Get along; I can hear them coming down the stairs.”

You hurriedly fixed a pleasant but distant look on your lips as you wheeled the cart into the dining room.

“Good morning, Mr. Leander,” you said to Dervin's only son, as he was the first to enter the dining room.”

“You’re radiant this morning as always (Y/N),” he beamed, taking his spot at the table. “but stop calling me ‘mister’ you never used to.”

Your ears heated as you placed his breakfast in front of him.

“It's not appropriate, sir. We were children then. You're to be the master of the house and will be married soon. I'm sure your fiancee wouldn’t appreciate-”

He cut off your words with a sharp hand.

“Don't speak of unpleasant things,” he grumbled.

“Apologies, sir.”

“Stop calling me-”

The arrival of his mother cut off his own words. She was a lovely Naga, sharing Leander’s white hair and sapphire blue eyes. Like his, her tail was a shocking electric blue.

“Stop prattling with that servant, Leander,” she snapped. “She has work to do. You're bothering her.”

Mrs. Elanore was not a pleasant woman, but she didn't like you servants to be harassed by the males of the house. Whether it was actual concern or jealousy, you didn't know, but your mother, especially, appreciated it.

Dervin, her husband, took every opportunity to corner her, trying to ply her with gifts and sweet words. Your mother was having none of it, which is why you delivered their meals, not her, and why your father spit in his food.

You nodded, thanking Elanore as you served her the tea she liked.

“Where is that imbecile?” she muttered, referring to her husband. “There are so few things I ask of him, but he can't manage the simplest tasks. He is to arrive on time for every meal. There must be some decorum in this household!

Her sharp blue eyes flicked to you.

“Go get him (Y/N).”

Leander slid in front of you like a vibrant blue flash before you could even respond.

“I'll go, mother. (Y/N) has her work, as you said.”

She gave him a tight nod, and you took the opportunity to finish setting the table for their return.

“I should fire your family,” Elanore mused. “your father would be happier, don't you think?”

You glanced up for a moment to find her eyes traveling over your form.

“You and your mother are too pretty to be maids,” she snorted. “You'll only cause trouble wherever you go.”

“Our family has served yours for generations,” you muttered, scared she might put you all on the street. “My grandparents died here, and so did theirs.”

“Just like a human,” she hissed, baring her teeth. “Servile and obedient. You’d think you’d have found something else to do in all those years.”

“Apologies, ma’am,” you said, looking at your shoes.

She waved a dismissive hand at you, sipping her tea.

“It’s in your nature. There’s nothing to be done. You and your mother are good at your jobs at least.”

Your cheeks warmed at the backhanded compliment. It was different when Dervin or Leander complimented you. She acknowledged the skill that had been passed through generations, not how you looked. You and your mother knew how to run a house. Your masters needed structure to maintain their dignity. With little to do, they would become depressed slobs if you didn’t keep everything running efficiently. At least, that’s what your grandmother told you.

Slithering through the wide doorway, Dervin and Leander settled into their spots at the table, and you took your place in the corner, waiting in case one of them needed something. The two male Nagas looked very similar in their features, handsome with a strong jaw and wide shoulders, but Dervin’s hair was jet black, as were his eyes. They always appeared blank and cold, which frightened you. Elanore wasn’t warm, but her gaze reflected an expressive nature, not a monstrous stillness.

Your eyes watched him take a bite of his breakfast, trying to hide the disgust that roiled in your stomach.

“Where’s your mother?” he snapped after a few big bites.

You didn’t speak at first, your eyes drifting to Elanore for permission. She answered for you.

“She’s in the kitchen where she ought to be. The servants are my business as the Lady of the house. Don’t bother yourself with their whereabouts.”

“I pay them,” he barked, but she ignored him, turning her attention to Leander.

“You’re to visit Iris today, Leander. I’ve purchased a gift for you to bring your fiancee.”

She snapped her fingers at you, and you hurried to her side to take the small package and walk it around the table to her son.

“I don’t wish to bring her any gifts,” he snorted, not even taking the gift from your hand. “She’s not my fiancee.”

Elanore rubbed her temples.

“The two of you are infuriating, you know that? You have one job, Leander. You have to marry well and produce an heir.”

She waved a finger at you.

“You can keep your little maid as a comfort doll if you like, but you will do as I have arranged.”

“I’m a grown man, mother. I don’t have to do anything.”

Electricity crackled between their eyes as they engaged in a silent power struggle. You stood awkwardly to the side, still holding the gift.

“I’m sick of this! I do my very best to advise you two idiots on the proper way to conduct yourselves, and you act like spoiled children!”

Her tail snapped faster than you could see and struck Leander across the cheek with a crack. Blood dribbled down his pale skin, and his eyes hung on her, the warm blue turning to ice.

“I should have never married a common husband like you,” she snarled, turning her ire toward Dervin. Vulgarity and Mediocrity are in your blood, and you’ve infected your son!”

Dervin’s black eyes flashed.

“My mediocre blood saved your foolish noble family from destitution. Thanks to my benevolence, you are able to live in the house your family has owned for generations. If not for me, you’d be begging on the streets, pleading with your relatives to take you in as a servant.”

“Fools,” she snarled, picking up her tea and slithering out of the room.

“Bring your mother to me,” Dervin demanded when she was out of earshot.

You let out a trembling breath as you thought up a lie.

“She went into town this morning for groceries, sir,” you said, knowing he’d never lower himself to search for her in the kitchen.

You screamed as the bowl he was eating from sailed across the room, shattering beside your head.

“Father!” Leander shouted.

Dervin gave him an amused but cool smirk before turning his attention to you.

“Send her to my room when she returns,” he barked and stormed out.

You leaned against the wall, panting as you mentally checked yourself for harm. Leander’s warm hands cupped your cheeks, looking you over.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked.

Your gazes met, but words wouldn’t come, so you shook your head.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said, his warm arms wrapping around you and pressing you to his chest.

You inhaled the spicy scent of the soap he used mixed with his own natural fragrance.

“I won’t let any harm come to you.”

When he pulled away, you found yourself looking at your feet, trying to avoid his gaze.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I dropped the gift,” you muttered, picking up the broken box.

You plucked the pretty hairpin from the shards of ceramic, seeing it was still whole.

“I’ll find a new box,” you said, trying to slide around him.

He stopped you with a hand on your shoulder, curling the other around your fingers.

“Keep it,” he said. “I’m not marrying Iris. My mother has no say in the matter, despite how she likes to posture.”

Your gaze shifted to the red slash bisecting his cheek.

“Let’s get this cleaned for you, sir. It will be a problem if it gets infected.”

He frowned but followed you to the kitchen.

“Is everything alright?” your mother asked as you pulled the first aid kit off a shelf.

“Good morning, zhingha,” Leander said, greeting your mother with a kiss on the cheek.

The word meant “mother” in the Naga’s old language. He had never considered his biological mother his; when he was a boy, he got quite attached to yours. He spent most of his time in the kitchen with you, playing and avoiding Elanore’s tantrums when you were children. The two of you had made the pantry your fort, and you’d put on little shadow plays while you lay on the floor together.

Your mother’s eyes focused on his wound, and she clucked.

“Poor thing, come bend down where I can reach you. You’ve grown into such a tall man,” she said, taking the kit from you and pulling out the correct supplies.

You hopped on the counter, swinging your feet as you watched her disinfect and bandage the cut.

“What mother in their right mind would do such a thing to their son,” she muttered as she worked.

She already knew who’d done it because she treated Leander’s wounds often. When she was done, she patted him on the head like when he was a little boy.

“That’s better.”

“We should go into town today,” he said. “My father is looking for you.”

She frowned, a flash of fear streaking across her face.

“Don’t worry. I’m supposed to be visiting Iris. We can take the carriage, and you can visit with your friends instead. Go have Charles ready it.”

She nodded, giving him a wan smile before she hurried to find your father. You hopped off the counter and headed to do your chores while your mother was safely out of the house.

Before you could make it out the door, Leander’s thick, electric blue tail coiled around you.

“Ah, ah, you’re coming too, saiya,” he cooed, dragging you into his arms.

Your heart thumped at the silly nickname he’d given you as a child. The word meant “little bear. " When he was young, he was fascinated with your round ears compared to his, which pointed at the end. As they had so often back then, his finger traced the arch of one as he hummed his pleasure.

“Sir, you shouldn’t,” you whispered, but Leander was too pleased with you in his arms.

He dipped his head, nibbling at your ear.

“I should eat you up, sweet little thing,” he whispered, making your body explode in butterflies.

He carried you out the back door to the stable, where your father was busy arranging the horses to pull the carriage. When he saw you tucked behind Leander’s large biceps, he frowned.

“Put my daughter down. She’s not your doll,” he said, his tone more curt than he probably should have been with a family member of the house he served.

Out of only politeness, you were sure, he set you down. Your mother let out a light, silvery giggle, patting your father on the shoulder.

“Oh, don’t be so strict, Charles,” she said. “He doesn’t mean any harm by it.”

As Leander tugged you by the hand into the carriage, you heard your Dad lower his voice, so he thought the Naga couldn’t hear.

“I don’t like those snakes touching her. They are far too familiar. Miss Elanore’s grandfather would never have allowed him to fondle her the way he does. Things were the way they should be when he was around.”

Beside you, Leander snorted, rolling his eyes.

“He also drove the family to bankruptcy,” he muttered under his breath.

“Listen,” your father went on as he helped your mother onto the seat next to him, and still unaware you could hear him quite clearly. “I’ve been talking with the Willards about (Y/N).”

“The Willards?” she asked. “The tailors?”

“Yes, they have a boy about (Y/N)’s age. Apparently, he has taken an interest in her, and his father approves. He thinks a girl raised as a maid will make a dutiful wife. I think we ought to consider it. We can visit while we’re in town today.”

You remembered the Willard's son Joshua from when you were sent on errands to pick up clothes for Elanore. He was a handsome young man, though a little on the skinny side. He seemed nice enough. Still, your cheeks burned, and you folded your hands tightly, hearing your parents plot your marriage.

“I don’t know, dear,” your mother hummed. “Do you really think it’s a good idea?”

He let out a grunt.

“I’d do just about anything to get our girl away from that snake. He’s only going to ruin her, string her along, and throw her away when he’s bored. They’re all the same. The Willard’s can give her a good life.”

You felt Leander stiffen beside you. As the carriage took off, his tail wrapped around you so tight you whimpered. He glanced down, his face darkening to a cool blue.

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered, loosening his muscles but not letting you go.

He gently unwrapped the hairpin, clutched in your palm, and busied himself fastening it to your hair.

“So pretty,” he murmured, greedy eyes eating you up. “I won’t let anyone else touch you (Y/N).”

You weren’t sure if that was supposed to be comforting. You’d always liked Leander. He was very handsome, and as children, you’d been inseparable. However, you also realized the massive gap between your two worlds. You were just a maid, and he was the only son of a wealthy lord. It wasn’t meant to be. Your father had explained to you many times before that Leander only doted on you because he was immature and unwilling to grow up. He thought he could still play make-believe with your life, and he warned you to be wary of him.

Feeling raw and confused, you tried to keep your eyes out the window, focused on the passing countryside as you made your way toward town. When your father stopped to park the carriage, he nodded to your mother as you climbed out.

She held out a hand to you.

“Darling, I need you to come with me. We’re going to stop at the tailor’s,” she said, carefully avoiding Leander’s gaze.

He, however, would not be tricked.

“How convenient. I need to stop there as well,” he said with a grin, tugging you back towards him with his tail. “(Y/N), keep me company as we walk so I don’t get bored.”

Your father gave him a deep grimace but was silent as he finished tying up the horses and escorted your mother by the arm down the busy avenue, walking a few steps ahead of you. You watched the two of them whisper to one another as you made your way to the Willard’s shop.

“Greetings!” Marshall Willard said with a grin when he saw you and your parents enter the shop.

His eyes jumped to the large Naga next you, and he winced just slightly before calling his son.

“Joshua! Come greet our guests. I’ll help the customer.”

Joshua appeared from the back, giving you a pleasant smile.

“Mr. and Mrs. (Y/LN). It’s wonderful to see you,” he said politely. “Can I offer you some tea?”

Meanwhile, his father greeted Leander.

“Young Lord Szake! What can I help you with this morning?”

You moved to follow your parents to the kitchen with Joshua, but Leander pulled you back by the shoulders.

“I’m here to buy (Y/N) some dresses,” he said, pushing you gently in front of him.

Everyone in the room looked at you, and your cheeks burned.

“What? Why, my lord?” you stammered.

He tipped his head at you.

“If you’re to be my personal attendant, you can’t follow me around in threadbare wool dresses. You ought to represent the Szake family well.”

“Personal attendant?” you parroted, confused. “But I’m just a maid.”

“Not anymore,” he declared. “Every Lord has a personal attendant to handle the paperwork and their calendar…those sorts of things.”

“But isn’t that normally a man?” Mr. Willard asked.

Leander beamed at him, a cold smile full of hate.

“(Y/N) has known me since I was just a child. She knows everything about me. I wouldn’t dare trust anyone else with my personal affairs.”

Your father frowned.

“Nonsense,” he barked. “(Y/N) is going to be married and have a domestic life, as she should. You’re a wealthy Lord; I’m sure you can find a qualified candidate.”

Joshua nodded beside him. You looked up at Leander, eyes large.

“I can’t be your personal attendant, sir,” you added. “It’s not proper. What will people think?”

He smirked at you, his long, strong fingers pinching your chin so you had to look at him.

“Fine…If your father insists you have a domestic life, you shall.”

Your shoulders wilted with relief, and you let out a breath.

“Oh, thank goo-”

“As my wife.”

Everyone in the room’s eyes were as wide as saucers.

“What?!” they all said at once.

Leander gave Mr. Willard another bitterly cold grin.

“Measure her for dresses fitting the station of a Lord’s fiancee.”

“Absolutely not!” your father said.

“Lord Szake will never allow of this!” Mr. Willard pointed out.

“She’s to be my fiancee!” Joshua hissed, taking an incensed step towards Leander. “My father has already approved it!”

Leander’s gaze shot to him, danger reflected in his irises.

“There are not words on this plane to describe how little I care about whatever arrangement your families have worked out. (Y/N) will marry me, and you will dress her properly.”

He sank into his coils, pushing you in front of Mr. Willard, snapping his fingers.

“Now.”

You saw the man’s jaw tick, but refusing Leander’s request would only be bad for his business, so he pulled out his measuring tape and approached you. Not sure what was happening, you gave him a pleading look, begging him to say something. Reading your confusion and fear, his stare shifted to one more gentle.

“Lift your arms, please, miss,” he said quietly.

The room was dead silent while he did as he was told. Joshua and your father glared at Leander, who seemed entirely unbothered, while your mother appeared uncertain. You watched her suck in a deep breath, straightening her shoulders before she approached the Naga, speaking in hushed tones.

“Sir, are you sure this is wise? I’m not opposed to this match. I-I know…I can see you love her…I’m only worried for (Y/N)’s safety. Such arrangements between classes rarely work out well. Your fellow nobles will never accept her. Would you subject her to their cruelty?”

For a moment, he seemed to be considering her words, eyes sliding to you.

“My family has never been accepted into our peers good graces. You know my father was a common merchant. My mother married him out of desperation. She traded her noble title for his fortune. People’s opinions are only that. Opinions. (Y/N) and I will face the same prejudices together. Do you wish your daughter to continue her life as a maid or-?”

He gave Joshua a dirty look.

“Or become a servant to a husband who can never love her as I can?”

Your mother sighed. She lifted her hand and smoothed a bit of hair that had come out of place as if he were her own son.

“Please…for me, be serious about this if it is what you intend to do.”

He tipped his cheek into her palm.

“I will never betray your daughter zhingha.”

Your father let out a strangled noise, marching out the front door, slamming it behind him.

Joshua, who had been pacing in place, stomped over to you, grabbing you by the arm to face him.

“Is this what you really want (Y/N)? A snake for a husband?”

Before you could answer, Leander’s tail shot out, jerking him away from you and tossing him into the wall.

“Don’t touch her!”

The young man climbed to his feet, clutching his ribs.

“You nobles can’t just take whatever you like! (Y/N) belongs with us!”

Leander slid across the room like an elegant blue river, lifting Joshua up by his throat.

“Do not address my fiancee by her first name again. If I see your eyes on her, I will gouge them out!”

Joshua’s furious face told you he didn’t plan to back down. His father dropped the measuring tape, hurrying to rescue his son.

“Of course, he wont’ My Lord,” he said. “You’ve made your intentions quite clear. Yes, Joshua?”

He gave Leander another long look before he gave in.

“As you say, My Lord.”

Leander dropped him, returning to his seat near you, and jerked his head at the tailor.

“Continue,” he snarled.

“Go to the back and help your mother,” Mr. Willard said to his son.

Joshua gave you a last lingering glance before he disappeared.

–

You arrived back at the mansion in a very different dress than when you'd left. Leander had insisted on buying you and your mother matching readymade dresses from the shop window while you waited for the fourteen others he ordered to be made. The soft peach satin fabric was the nicest thing you’d ever worn.

The first thing you heard as you walked in the black door was the smashing of ceramic.

“Stay here,” Leander said.

Your eyes quickly flicked to your mother, who grabbed your hand and pulled you into the pantry, peeking out through a crack in the door.

“Father?” Leander called, opening the door to the dining room.

He ducked as a vase flew past, smashing to pieces on the stove.

“That bitch!” You heard him screaming.

He shoved past his son, dark eyes jerking around the room.

“Father! Calm down! What's happened?”

“Where is the human woman?” he snarled.

You and your mother slipped back into the shadows, trying to be as silent as mice.

“Father! She’s not back from shopping yet. Please, tell me what’s happened.”

His eyes narrowed, but seemed satisfied with his answer.

“It’s your mother,” he snarled. “She’s gone.”

“Gone?”

He bared his fangs at his son.

“Don’t parrot me like a dumb animal. The damn woman left! She stole the gold in the safe and disappeared! No one’s seen her!”

He paced on his thick tail.

“She must have paid off the townsfolk. No one will tell me where she’s gone!”

“Has she made off with our fortune?”

His father glanced up at him.

“Of course not; I keep the majority of our money in the bank. Only you and I can access it. I planned for this possibility but never expected her to do it! She only got off with our emergency fund…but it was enough to live well for a long time. When will the human woman return?”

“I don’t know, father,” he said. “But whatever you need, I can help you with it.”

He waved a clawed hand.

“I don’t need anything done! I’m going to marry the woman. I should never have agreed to marry Elanore. I won’t make that mistake again. An obedient human wife will suit me better.”

Leander let out a cold chuff.

“She’s already married, father!”

“Easily fixed,” he hissed with murder in his eyes.

“You can’t be serious!”

He tried to push past his son toward the door leading out to the stable. Leander blocked his way, his icy irises determined.

“I can’t let you do that, Father,” he said, his tone low and even.

Your father came marching through the door a moment later, unaware of the drama playing out. He froze where he stood, eyes immediately focused on the two Naga, staring one another down.

The opportunity in front of him was too tempting for Dervin to resist, and his tail shot out, a victorious smile on his lips. You couldn’t stay the scream that erupted from your throat, your mother rushing past you to protect her husband.

Dervin’s focus shifted to her, and Leander lunged at the same second. Caught off guard, he threw his father to the floor, and they quickly became a writhing ball of tails and arms.

“You’d betray me too, son?” he gasped as he tried to overpower Leander.

You smelled the coppery stench of blood as sharp nails scraped each other's skin. More than willing to help, your father picked up a heavy cast iron skillet, making his way around the hissing Naga, quiet on his feet.

There was a resounding crunch as the skillet descended on Dervin’s head. He flopped to the floor, limp. Blood leaked in a pool around him, but he still dragged in a wet breath. Before anyone else could move, Leander snatched a kitchen knife from the rack, jamming it through his chest. Dervin let out his gurgling last breath and then was still.

You and your mother clutched one another, sinking to the floor. Neither of you knew what to say or do, but your father and Leander didn’t need any prompting.

“Help me with him,” your father said, slipping his arms under the dead Naga’s. “We’ll bury him under the pig pens.”

Leander grunted his assent, lifting the majority of the weight as they maneuvered the body outside.

“Come,” your mother whispered, trembling. “The blood.”

You nodded, filling the mop bucket with water before pulling every towel from the cabinet to mop up the mess.

“What now?” you found yourself whispering, though there was no reason to.

She shrugged.

“That’s for Leander to decide. He’s the Lord of this house.”

By the time they returned, you’d scrubbed everything to a sparkle, the only blood left staining your new dresses and the towels.

“Take those off,” your father said. “We’ll burn the linens.”

The two of you nodded, slipping the heavy dresses over your shoulders until you only wore the thick shifts underneath. Leander helped you out of your shoes and slipped the red-splattered stockings off your feet.

Your father gave you and Leander a long look before he spoke.

“Take your fiancee to bed,” he said. “She shouldn’t have seen all this. I trust it won’t happen again.”

Leander returned a tight nod, and something passed between their gazes. They’d forged a silent agreement.

It wasn’t until your mother and father left out the back door to burn the rest of the evidence that the tears came. It was a relief Dervin was gone. He would have killed your father and hurt your mother, but it was still horrific.

“Shhh,” Leander hummed, scooping you up in his arms.

He carried you upstairs to his bedroom, curling into a tight ring to settle you in the center. His arms wrapped around you, and he pressed your head into his chest.

“Everything is going to be okay now,” he said softly, carding the strands of your hair with his long fingers.

“Lei, are we all going to jail?” you sniffled, his childhood nickname falling past your lips all on its own.

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling when they met yours.

“No. My mother did us a favor. If anyone asks, they’re touring the countryside until they're entirely forgotten.”

“What happens now?” you asked.

He tipped your chin with his thumb, dipping his head to slip his lips against yours. They were so warm that you felt your jaw's tension melt away. His eyes searched yours when they parted, carrying a lightness you hadn’t seen in many years.

“I’m going to marry you, and your parents will move out of the servant’s quarters. Your father and mother have earned their place in the Szake family. We’ll find some new staff.”

You nodded, his hair forming a smooth curtain blocking the world.

“Sleep now,” he hummed. “All is as it should be.”

Despite how you wanted to keep your eyes open, they slid shut against your will.

—

“Would you like lavender or rose tea, Miss (Y/N)?” your new maid asked as she opened the tea box in front of you.

“Rose,” you said, turning your attention back to the catalog in front of you.

You sat comfortably in the rose garden, enjoying the sunshine as you planned your wedding. It had been a month since the terrible night that Dervin died. When Leander had informed the merchants of the town that he was getting married, they’d sent piles of samples and booklets for you to look through. You’d never realized there were so many options! It was a little overwhelming. Since you’d come from humble beginnings, it felt strange spending so much money on decorations and lace, but Leander informed you it should be a grand occasion and not to spare a cent.

“Um…Miss (Y/N)?” one of your maids said, looking slightly frightened.

“What’s wrong, Lily?” you asked, concerned.

“Well…there’s a Miss Iris at the door looking for you. Should I bring her?”

Leander was out for the day, meeting with one of his importers, so you weren’t sure what she could want.

“Of course, bring her here.”

A minute later, an elegant Naga came slithering into the garden. Her curly violet hair was pinned in a pretty updo and she wore an elaborate pink dress, covered in ribbons.

“Hello, Miss Iris,” you said, waving for her to take a place at the table. “Can I offer you some tea?”

Her brow was drawn, and she looked you up and down.

“So…you’re who he picked,” she pouted. “Over me.”

Your ears burned, realizing you were speaking to Leander’s former fiancee.

“There’s no competition,” you said.

She snorted.

“Obviously not.”

She narrowed her eyes at you, and you expected a verbal lashing. You were a mere maid, after all. It was absurd Leander would take you as his fiancee. She sucked in a deep breath, and her expression suddenly softened.

“How…How did you do it?”

Your eyebrows jumped, confused.

“Do what?”

She looked around, uncomfortable.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

You took a breath as your maid politely poured her a cup of tea.

“I suppose so…If you’d like.”

“I’m relieved.”

“Relieved…why?”

She sipped her tea, thinking before she spoke.

“Because I don’t particularly care for Leander. In fact, I don’t like him at all. He’s…very…intense. He kind of creeps me out. He only spoke of you when we were out on dates; it was incredibly boring and awkward. Not to mention…the way he talked about you…He was fixated on all of your little ticks. Did you know he carries a lock of your hair around with him? And sometimes your stockings! He showed up one day elated because you’d accidentally sneezed on him and used his handkerchief to wipe your nose! He was cuddling it like a treasure!”

Your ears heated. Where had he gotten a lock of your hair? You’d never given it to him.

“He what?”

Iris waved her previous statement away.

“Anyway, I wouldn’t have liked him even if he hadn’t. He’s just…too much like a Naga male. Once they have something in their mind, they get…obsessed.

Our parents arranged our marriage. I hate that tradition. I’d never force my child into a marriage without love. That’s how you get murdered by some enterprising mistress!”

You blinked, unsure if you should be offended or not, but she went on.

“Honestly, there’s…someone else who has my interest. Only…he’s not a noble Naga.”

“Oh! That is a puzzle, isn’t it?”

She nodded, stretching her hand across the table to touch yours.

“That’s why I need to know how you did it! How did you win over Leander’s parents? Maybe if I can tell Joshua how to do it, I can…I don’t know…”

You giggled.

“Joshua…Willard?”

Her violet irises flared.

“You know him?”

“Ah…yes…but not well. He seems like a very nice man.”

Her eyes glazed over, wistful thoughts playing in her mind.

“He’s so kind and considerate. I’ve never met anyone like him, so gentle. A few weeks ago, I went to pick up a dress, and he helped me. His hands were so soft, and his voice was so sweet. Every night since then, we’ve been meeting in secret! I know he’s the right one and he thinks so too!

I don’t want to brute of a husband. I want a kind person who I can talk to. That’s why I have to know how to convince my parents not to marry me off to some…stranger!”

You weren’t sure how to answer.

“I think…You should do whatever you must to protect your beloved,” you said. “I can’t tell you exactly what to do because it will be different for you. We’re all different in different circumstances.

She looked a little disappointed.

“What I do know, though, Iris, is that if you love one another, you will find a way You two are adults, not children. No one can make you marry someone you don’t want to. It’s only a matter of how far you are willing to go, what sacrifices you will make to have the life you want.”

She nodded, thinking.

“But…” you started, pausing to sip your tea, “What if your parents went on a little vacation?”

“A vacation?”

You shrugged.

“Once you’re married, you’re married,” you said. “Maybe by the time they return…if they return… you’ve sorted your affairs.”

The two of you shared a knowing look, and she brightened.

“I like you (Y/N), you’re very clever! You’ve given me hope! Is there anything I can help you with in return? I want us to be friends!”

You smiled, picking up one of the catalogs.

“Yes, actually. I have no idea what is proper for a lady. Can you help me? We can plan our weddings together.”

She beamed at you, taking the catalog.

“Of course!”

A few hours later, Leander came slithering through the garden.

“Iris? What are you doing here?” he asked, his shoulders stiffening. “I thought I made it clear…”

Iris snorted and waved him away.

“I’m not here for you,” she said, raising her nose at him. “(Y/N) and I are planning our weddings.”

“Your wedding?” he asked, and she grinned.

“Yes! And now that you’re here,” she wrinkled her nose at him. “I think I’ll be off.”

She leaned down and kissed your cheek.

“Thank you for your advice (Y/N). I’m going to talk to Joshua,” she said before sliding past Leander without saying goodbye.

“What was that all about?” Leander asked when she was gone.

You shrugged.

“True love, I guess.”

He pulled you into his coils, peeking over your shoulder at the catalogs on the table. He ran a finger over the things you’d circled.

“Lei, can I ask you something?” you asked.

“Anything, love.”

You twisted around to look at him, narrowing your eyes.

“Did you tell Iris that you were excited I sneezed on you?”

“Ah…noooo,” he lied, his whole face darkening to a deep blue. “Wh-Why would she say something silly like that?”

You giggled.

“Of course not,” you said, patting his chest. “I must have misheard her. Can I borrow your handkerchief? It's a little warm out here.”

He passed it to you and you daintily patted your forehead, handing it back. His eyes widened at the little scrap of fabric in his hand and he hastily stuck it in his jacket pocket.

Leander might be a weirdo, but he was your weirdo and you wouldn't have it any other way.

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nocturn-warrior · 5 months

Text

Kiss of seedcake• 🌧

Lotor x f!reader

Summary: building a life with Lotor on Earth after the galras were defeated, you decide to try for a child :)

Rating: fluff, smut (breeding kink)

Notes: this is set after season 8 events, in a timeline where my boy Lotor didn't die and lives happily with u on Earth. This smut has a plot.

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy and lactation, body changes mentions, mentions racism towards Lotor, my grammar because i am not a native speaker lmao

since Sendak and his army was completely defeated thanks to Voltron and their allies. And with an extra help of the space visitors, human kind quickly rebuilt its structures, combining the advanced technologies of their new colleagues with their own. Flying vessels, space travels and colonies, complex security AI systems and media were a great leap in history.

Not surprisingly, interspecies relationships emerged among the coexistence of humans and extraterrestrials, besides it was a taboo for some people, the most conservative ones, you could easily spot a human walking and a balmeran holding hands on the streets. But as expected, racism towards the space visitors was a thing, especially towards the galra people.

Being blamed for the death of so many, even not having affiliation with Sendak’s deadly army, the purple skinned people were a target to bigotry not just coming from humans but also from other extraterrestrials. With your partner Lotor, it wasn’t different. Making public appearances together, you could feel the reproved gaze of your peers, judging the nature of your relationship as disgusting, selfish. Some showed concern, fearing Lotor could harm you in any way, while others called you an enemy, a traitor for engaging yourself to an individual of a species that slaved, tortured and killed so many in the galaxy.

As the only begotten son of emperor Zarkon, so many wanted his head for what his father caused during centuries, and for reprehensible actions of his own. You were constantly reminded of Lotor’s thirst to acquire quintessence and what he did to reach his goals, the hundreds of alteans locked in tanks he utilized as cattle to harvest the substance. The United Planets Council decided he would not receive death penitence or be locked for his crimes, but he should be exiled.

“Exiled… I am used to this condition”

It was better this way; though Lotor wanted and deserved redemption, not everyone including the paladins would accept it easily. When you established you would not abandon him, they immediately intervened reminding you of what his family caused to everyone, of what your late friend princess Allura would want. You were tired of it all. You loved Lotor and wanted to keep him safe, even if it means cutting connections with your friends. You couldn’t risk having your boyfriend stabbed from behind by a vengeful self-proclaimed punisher.

Lotor understood the gravity of his actions he didn’t even tried to defend himself. But he repined every day about how quintessence drove him mad, crazy for power, and that those moments of madness showed up as nothing but foggy memories in his mind. It broke your heart to see Lotor eager to be accepted in this new multispecies society, but being doomed by his past. Deep in his core, all he wanted was that: to be accepted and to fix everything up. Even when he was still the prince of the mighty galra empire, all he did was for a bigger purpose. He knew he took the wrong route, though.

Four years ago you moved together to your family’s old farm; only you, Lotor and the desire to begin a new life. Part of the farm, including the barn and the stable were destroyed by the attacks, but luckily the house you grew up in was intact, except for the dust and spider webs covering the rooms. Nothing you couldn’t fix up. Lotor is a quick learner, his intelligence was always something you appreciated, and with a quickly explaining of how to use house devices, he became a master at it except for the vacuum cleaner.

“How can you pilot a high technological spaceship and be defeated by a vacuum cleaner, my dear?”

You would tease him, leaning against a wall while seeing your lover struggle to clean the dust of the living room. Lotor in his endeavor would blame the device instead of admitting he was having a bad time using it. You find that silly and adorable. It took some days for your house to be properly inhabited again, with Lotor’s help, everything was easy.

He would wash clothes, cook for you – that thin waist of his looked adorable in one of your late grandmother’s apron, and a few other things. But still, he missed space and missed the adrenaline. That mind of his was always hunger for knowledge and staying so much time without absorbing anything was frustrating and tedious. Lotor in fact would not complain about it, but noticing the lack of enthusiasm in your love, you gifted him with a box of the old books you used to read while graduating; psych, biology, chemistry, and others you kept a special interest about but were not exactly linked to your graduation; history and anthropology.

Besides you were a good storyteller, talking about the myths and cultures of your species along with its advances and knowledge on science, nothing compares to touch, read and learn about something from primary fonts. As you expected, Lotor was more than happy when you handled him your collection. Some of the concepts stored in the books were at least eight years outdated, but still he could have a notion of humankind’s plurality, maybe hoping he could integrate himself into society one day.

Everything was so perfect you feared something bad would happen to spoil the moment. Your days were simple and cozy in your home, and occasionally you had to leave to buy some groceries but would come back soon.

Four years ago when the invasion occurred, families found shelter in the rural areas once the galras attacked the big urban centers first. And from this, a small agriculture and livestock centered community was born. They provided food for the cities near the reagion, and living only one or two miles away, you groceries from first hand.

In this specific day, you arrived home carrying a bag full of fresh fruits, vegetables, flour and some animal products. Lotor was sitting on the couch. He wore a grey sweater that reached the mid of his wrists and black sweatpants that barely reached his ankles, snuggling on his muscular calves. Big boy problems. His starlight hair tied into a messy bun was occasionally scratched as he concentred on the book he was reading. In fact, he was so focused on the book that didn't even notice you comming.

"Im back, love!"

You said opening the door and he slightly jumped on his seat.

"Hello, dear! I indeed didn't perceive you arriving. I was quite concentrated on this book i've been reading"

He got himself together, cleaning his throat before helping you to take the groceries to the kitchen. His gaze immediatly directed towards the sway of your hips as you walked.

"Which one is this?"

You ask, placing the bags on the table and cleaning your hands. Lotor blinks for a while, being snapped out of his beholding state:

"It is about the development of agriculture and how it's linked to the appearance of religious cults. I am quite amused by the first forms of art created by your species, dear, and how the belief in gods and deities is linked to the discovering of agriculture. It is pretty interesting how such topics that don’t seem to be linked at first sight are related.”

He continues:

“The most interesting part, my dear, is that most of these civilizations were situated in quite green and prosper lands, therefore their deities reflected in the places they inhabited. While the people that lived in arid and desert places had vengeful and warrior gods.”

He speaks with enthusiasm, smiling like you have not seen in at least four years. His lust for you was being masked with non-stop bragging about what he learned in that day. Lotor was indeed fascinated by how some ancient human civilizations valorized fertility and reproduction, but what excited him most was to put this in practice. His cock jutted against the fabric of his sweatpants when he saw those sensual statues of Venus in the pages of that book. He wanted you. He wanted to make you his own goddess of fertility.

After drying your hands on a towel, you swiftly turn to your husband, paying attention to his words. But the look on his feline eyes told you everything. The pupils were dilated, shiny like binary stars. You smirk, and when you do so, Lotor stumbles on his own words.

“I have been always fascinated with this topic too, my dear.”

You put on an innocent facade, crossing your arms and leaning your beautiful hips against the counter. Lotor’s hands twitched, urging to squeeze them as you ride his cock gracefully like the goddess you were to him. He licks his lips and smiles:

“Nothing fairer, darling. You are a goddess yourself. But do you know what is missing?”

You obliviously shake your head to his question.

“A seed to be fertilized in this womb of yours”

Just by hearing his deep sensual voice, you feel your core flutter with excitement. The galran prince approaches you, closing the space between your bodies. All you do is to let him guide you onto his arms and give yourself to this blissful heat.

His thumb traces your lowerbelly, imagining it growing as a proof of the seed he implanted in your womb. He imagines your breasts swelling, leaking the milk that will nurture your child.

Lotor sinks his hand under your hair, softly bringing you closer to him and intensifying the kiss. Your fingers travel under his sweater, tracing his divinely sculpted abs one by one. The desire of being impregnated by him only grew stronger and stronger.

He strips you down, taking off your shirt and giving your breasts good squeezes before attaching his lips to the plump sides of them, leaving soft hickeys on your skin. You pant caressing his jaw as he does it.

Then, his long fingers skim down towards your groin. He gently slids down the waistband and kneals down in front of you. Hugging your hips, Lotor attaches his mouth onto your cut, sweetly suckling your clit as you tug onto his hair, undoing the messy bun he had.

"Lotor..."

You moan sweetly, and it sounds like the chant of Earth itself, like the sounds of raindrops falling onto soil.

His skilled tongue dances around your clit. Your legs tremble and if he wasn't holding you still by your hips, you would definitly lose your balance with so much pleasure being given.

And like a water dam being open, your fluids flow into Lotor's mouth and he delights on it like honey. He moans pulling off and looking up to see your divine glory squirm in pleasure.

Standing up, Lotor holds you on his arms in bridal style, you lean in like a dandelion seed being carried by wind and he places you onto the canopy bed, the plush cushion softly sinking with your body.

Looking up at Lotor while he takes off his own clothing, you get a sight of his purple large cock deliciouspy jutting against his pants. It wiggles tantalizing when his boxers are finally down, hard and reaching his lower belly.

With your fingers you trace his abs again, they are sculpted and perfect like a statue meticulously carved in marble by the best of the sculptors. His silver bodyhair stands on ends with your touch.

Lotor gently inserts his large cock in your entrance, being enthralled by your moans. Your cunt is tight for his size, but soon it accomodates his full length.

He moans loudly and sensually twitching his hips, you reach out to squeeze his muscular butt as it recoils and releases with his thrust. Your motion seems like an extra stimulus.

"Stars. May your womb be a fertile field where i will plant my crops. You are perfect!"

He pants, the pace increasing and your bodies sweating, your pleasured noises echoing through the wood walls.

"I am going to fill you up, dear. I am going to make you a mother; i am going to make you my own fertility deity."

That was when you orgasmed.

It feels like you two were perfcetly designed for this, like your bodies were shaped by universe to create life. You bury your hand underneath Lotor's hair, his front strands are falling and tickling your face. As his pace increases, you hold it tighter and beautiful gasps leave his mouth.

"I- i am comming..."

Soon, the river flooded the land and you felt his warm seed inside your womb. Pace slowing down, Lotor remains the last frictions with his cock still in your vagine.

He pants a chuckle cleaning his sweaty forehead with his forearm. You let out a dizzy smile, reaching out to cup his cheek as your brain process the event, beholding his how graceful he looks.

Releasing his cock, Lotor gently pushes the oozing translucid liquid to inside of you again, rubbing it onto your still sensitive cunt. His ejaculation is so voluminous it feels like every inch of your tube is filled up. The alien man leans in and kisses your cheek:

"You were so great, darling... I... wow! I have no words to describe it. You will be a good mama"

His sudden use of an earthling slang makes you chuckle. How can a man be so sensually irresistible, and seconds later make your heart melt with such an adorable, silly thing? This is a Lotor ability, you guess. He messes with your mind in the better ways possible.

Cleaning up the sweat, you snuggle onto Lotor's chest while calming down your nerves after such a moment. The seed has been implanted to your womb, and Lotor couldn't wait for it to grow.

#lotor x reader #prince lotor x reader #voltron x reader #lotor fanfiction #reader insert #vld x reader #voltron fanfic #cw breeding #cw pregnancy #cw lactation #cw body image #cw racism

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for-ests · 4 months

Text

Suffocation: Gojo Satoru x Reader

Suffocation MLIST Summary: Time spent apart from Gojo means time spent with the students. That is, until your powers awaken. ps,, new chapter leaks?? we are so back!!! <3 Wc: 6, 500

The two of you, in fact, never got the chance to talk about it. You had fallen asleep on the couch, this time without him but with the students and your brother. As Gojo passed the common room on his way out, he thought about waking you to say goodbye. But you looked so peaceful leaning against the armrest, with Yuji curled beside you like a kitten.

The fact that Nobara, let alone Megumi, felt comfortable enough to do the same made Gojo's heart swell. All of them leaned against each other until it fell on you, your arms once spread wide but now curling into your chest, a peaceful smile spreading across your dream-filled face.

All he could do was pull out his phone and snap a picture, hoping he would get close enough with you to show it someday. To really make you understand that you were the missing piece in all of their lives. You would be a great mother. You would be a fantastic wife. You were everything and more.

Time did not matter; only the impact did. And what a crater you would leave behind.

What was this feeling?

Gojo allowed himself to steal one more look at you before returning to the duties he dreaded. It was convenient to be the most powerful sorcerer for once, as he deliberately teleported back to leave a present on your vanity, praying you would miss him as much as he would miss you in the next few days. Hoping you would understand.

When you woke, Gojo was already gone. And as you checked your phone later in the morning, you found his message.

Annoying ass teacher guy:> Will be back in a few days. Don't miss me too much, princess.

He imagined that since you were around the students, you would try to hide your blush as well as you could before typing back a witty reply with ease.

Yuji’s sister </3:> And if I miss you too much?

Annoying ass teacher guy:> I don't want you to be sad, but that might make what i'll do to you even more special ;)

Yuji’s sister </3:> you flirt

Annoying ass teacher guy:> check your desk

"Ugh!! Nanamiiiinnn!" Gojo sighed dramatically, flinging himself next to Nanami on the couch. It was idiotic with how anxious he was for your reply.

"What Gojo?" he grumbled, tersely flipping the page of his book.

"I won't see her for three days!" he whined. "Will she remember who I am?"

"The fact that she texted you back should be your answer," Nanami sighed, dismissing his friend's behavior as another joke. He didn't even know who Gojo was talking about, as he had already tuned out the teasing and nonchalance all morning. "Keep in mind we are here for work."

"We're done with work for the day, so you dont have an excuse to not listen to me."

Nanami put his book down, heaving a sigh. "Fine, spit it out."

A long silence passed as Gojo gathered his thoughts, deciding to start from the beginning. He didn't know if Yuji had said anything to Nanami yet about your arrival, but it didn't matter. Gojo wanted to talk about you; hell, he needed to. Just to think about something else, anything to get your face out of his mind. Talking about it had to help, right? His emotions were always bottled up, but this feeling… this one, was unlike any other.

Plus, Nanami had always been good with women. Advice shouldn't hurt, even if he was seeking it out from the person who would be harshest with him. It was needed.

And so, Gojo decided to ramble as he described your arrival, abilities, relation to Yuji, and what the two of you had already gone through in a week. The last thing he added was your beauty, which was definitely worth asseverating.

"She's all I can think about," he repined.

Nanami deadpanned. "You've only known her for a week," he said without thinking, but then really reflected on how Gojo was acting, how he talked about you, and how he said your name. There was a deep yearning, carefully covered with humor and dramatics. Had he ever seriously cared for a woman this much before? Nanami couldn't think of a time. Gojo was his usual, over-dramatic self, but Nanami noticed the differences. It was in the way Gojo moved, the slight uncertainty in his eyes, and how relieved his body language became once he finished his tangent.

Even just the description of you intrigued Nanami. Yes, it was astonishing to hear that Yuji had a sister and even more surprising to discover you had unique, undocumented cursed energy.

"You think the flowers were too much?"

"You bought a woman flowers?" Nanami's cold demeanor cracked into one of surprise. Then, he awkwardly cleared his throat to cover. "Absolutely not; flowers are a very safe choice."

"Seriously, is it that surprising?" Gojo sighed in defeat. "Why is everyone so surprised? I went on dates all the time, I know how to please a woman!"

"Not that you couldn't do it, but chose to."

That caused Gojo to fall silent. How his friend was able to read him so clearly was astonishing in itself. He was right, and that's what bothered Gojo. He had walked through life expecting never to feel this way, as he didn't have the time or energy to keep a woman by his side long enough for it to be worth it, let alone labeled. But with you, he wanted to. All he needed was for you to say yes.

Watching Gojo's eyebrows furrow, the realization spreading across his face, Nanami continued. "I know you've been with women before, but it actually seems like you deeply care for her. In the decade I've known you, I've never seen you like this."

"There's just something about her." Gojo twirled his phone between his fingers. Staring off into the distance. "I don't know what to do."

"Why wouldn't you know what to do?"

Part of Gojo was still determining whether he should allow himself to entertain the thought of you. Was this smart? Was he being fooled in a way he never thought possible? It was hard to trust, but you had never made him uneasy. Sometimes, you only need to look at a person to understand their intentions. And yours were pure.

But Gojo had been fooled before. All that distrust came flooding back as he thought of your unique ability. You somehow slipped past his infinity, and it frustrated him. He had let his guard down around you without realizing it. It was as simple as breathing when you were near. You weren't just beautiful and kind; you were also powerful. A road that could prove treacherous if he didn't play his cards right, not just for him but for everyone who relied on him, too.

"I've never felt this way before."

"And why are you making that seem like a bad thing?"

"Have you ever pictured me with a woman by my side?"

"I sure hoped and prayed that there was someone who could put you in your place."

Reluctantly, Gojo finally asked the question that mattered most. "What if I hurt her?"

"You probably will, but that's just how relationships go sometimes. Especially with a life as complicated as ours. Whether she can handle it or not, is up to her."

Gojo soaked in Nanami's words, ultimately concluding that he was worrying too much. If it was meant to be, it would. Right?

Everything eventually worked itself out, and he hoped that it could end in you being his alone. What wishful thinking.

"You know what Nanamin?" Gojo glanced over at his friend and coworker. "You're right."

And once Nanami saw that mischievous smile spread back across Gojo's face, he knew everything was back to normal. He shook his head, the slightest smile threatening to grace his lips. But Gojo knew he was hiding it when the corners of his eyes crinkled.

"Why do you look so smug?"

"I just can't believe that someone is willing to date you."

"You are so mean!" Gojo whined again, standing up from the couch and walking sluggishly to the exit as if he had been physically wounded. "I'll prove you wrong, Nanamin. Next time we meet she'll be in love with me."

And then, his phone pinged a message from you.

Y/N<3:> I love it, Satoru.

Curious, you wandered back into your room after breakfast. His message had left you operating at half capacity from the anticipation of it all. As soon as you opened the door, your eyes darted to your desk, where you found a bouquet of roses. The most beautiful bundle you'd ever seen.

There was a vase with a note attached. Picking it up with one hand, the other thumbed over the soft, ruby petals. As you finished the note, a permanent smile spread across your face for the rest of the day.

Keep the vase beautiful. As long as you're here, you won't go a week without flowers. - Satoru

One day turned into two, and you couldn't configure why it made you sad. It really shouldn't. Gojo's absence should be acceptable to you, but the longing in your chest told you otherwise.

Yuji claimed he was just on an emergency assignment and assured you it was normal. None of the students or staff seemed to bat an eye at his absence either. It allowed you to settle in without distractions and gave you more free time to befriend Yuji and the students. They trained with you, taught you what they knew, and refused to leave you alone for over an hour. In fact, they made your apartment their new hangout spot. They claimed it was cozy and smelled good, and you were too nice to refuse their company.

A gigantic beanbag had been brought in, and they were taking advantage of your Nintendo Switch games while you skimmed through a textbook peacefully on your bed. The campus library was a perfect resource, filled with specific literary curse techniques you couldn’t find elsewhere. You were learning so much, not just about jujutsu but also about yourself and your abilities. If only you could uncover the link between them all.

The sound effects of Mario Kart and the focused grunts of the students filled the room. The race ended, and Yuji sighed in defeat. “Are you sure you don’t wanna get in on this, Y/N?” he asked, head falling to the beanbag as he stared at you upside down.

“I need to study!” you chuckled. “Maybe next time?”

“Gojo should be back tonight, maybe he’ll join.” Megumi shrugged, already forcing the three of them into another tournament. You couldn’t help but perk up slightly at the mention of the white-haired sorcerer. He hadn’t told you when he’d return, and you couldn’t deny how badly you wanted to talk with him.

“But he always wins!” Yuji groaned.

“Oh?” you snorted. “So you only want me to join so you can beat me?”

Yuji snapped his head up, laughing nervously. “No I promise!”

Sticking your tongue out, your eyes returned to the textbook in your lap.

Nobara watched you closely before the match started, and your reaction to the mention of her Sensei confirmed her suspicions. Your sudden smile was also a dead giveaway.

“I bet Y/N would join if Gojo was here~” she teased, snickering to herself.

That definitely interrupted your train of thought, and you immediately became flustered. At least one person noticed something was going on.

“What makes you say that?” you squeaked, mentally smacking yourself for how obvious you sounded, cheeks already beginning to burn. There was no reason for you to be nervous about it. Yes, Gojo was their teacher… but you were an adult and had no previous affiliation with him to make it scandalous. A relationship with Gojo might only be weird if Yuji was uncomfortable. Would he be? Were you thinking way too much about it?

You were definitely jumping to conclusions. Gojo probably didn’t feel the same way about you. Gifts could only get him so far. His nickname for you and how he touched you didn’t necessarily mean he wanted what you did.

Then you remembered what he did to you before he left. And your anxiety spiked once again.

“You like him, do you not?” Nobara pried through a lighthearted laugh, even if she couldn’t understand. The thought made her want to barf. You were way too good for him. But her Sensei had his perks, and maybe, just maybe, he deserved someone like you in his life.

Fuck. You really wished Gojo was there to do the talking, to make it seem like a joke, to deflect the accusation with his ridiculous and ambiguous humor. You were so unsure about everything, but especially Gojo. You didn’t know him well enough yet, you didn’t know the students well enough to put a label on anything. “I mean…” you trailed off, trying to sound nonchalant. “What's not to like?”

Megumi facepalmed, knowing what was about to happen.

“You like-like Gojo Sensei?” Yuji asked in confusion, almost dropping the switch remote.

Your hands shot up in defense, growing frantic and flustered when all three students craned their heads to stare at you. “I dont know?”

“Oh my God,” Megumi sighed in defeat. “She does.”

“Really?” Yuji blinked multiple times, glancing at his friends and then back to you, wondering if he’d been too oblivious to realize. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“You both are so dumb sometimes.” Nobara pinched her nose. “Who do you think got her those roses on her desk?”

They all turned their heads to look at your desk, which, in fact, still displayed the flamboyant bouquet of red roses placed neatly in a glass vase. It was so obvious. Of course, Nobara would notice something like that.

“It’s not what it looks like…” you tittered, wanting to run into your closet and hide from the embarrassment of it all.

“I assumed it was just a friendly welcoming gift!” Yuji fussed in response to being called dumb.

“Red is the color of love, idiot,” Megumi sighed.

Yuji slumped further into the bean bag, releasing an even more exasperated sigh than Megumi. He wasn’t upset about it, only frustrated that he wasn’t the first to notice and ask you about it. Days passed, and nobody said a word about something so important. Gojo liked you? Like that?

“Have you kissed?” Nobara pried further, desperate to hear the gossip.

You didn’t reply, trying to hide the bashful smile that threatened to spread across your face by biting down on your lip. You did more than just kiss, but you would keep that to yourself. Even if you didn’t say anything, what you felt was displayed in your expression. Why were you so bad at lying?

Nobara threw her head back with a cackle, nudging Yuji in his side. “How do you feel Yuji? Gojo likes your sister!”

Your brother seemed to ponder for a minute longer than you hoped for, but all he did was shrug and admit, “I’m surprised,” he said, but then smiled at you with kindness and understanding in his eyes. “If that’s what you want Y/N. I’m okay with it.”

“Really?” Your mouth dropped open. “It's not weird?” you asked none of them in particular.

“I don’t think it's weird,” Megumi finally butted in. “Gojo can be a good person when he wants to be.”

“Yeah!” Yuji beamed at you, thinking it funny that you would consider his feelings in the matter. “You don’t need to worry about how I would feel. You’re my sister, but only as of recently. You deserve to be with who you want!”

What a gentle, kind, and loving soul your brother was. How could he be so sweet at such a young age? It had taken you far longer to open yourself up, to trust, and seek happiness. He made it seem easy, as if he hadn’t endured his own trauma of death and separation.

“Thanks, Yuji.” You smiled back at him, relaxing back to your previous, unbothered demeanor. “I’ll take that into consideration.”

“That’s it?” Nobara sighed. “No more details?”

“No more details.” You scrunched your face at her teasingly. “Once I figure it out, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Boooooo,” she jeered, picking up a remote and leaning back toward Yuji. “At least we have something to blackmail Gojo with now,” she whispered loud enough for you to hear.

Yuji chuckled at that, and so did Megumi. They all continued to play their game, and you went back to reading your book. You smiled as you scanned through the lines and jotted down notes about domain expansions. According to Gojo, they were a rare occurrence, but it was wise to be as prepared as possible. You remembered as much as you could about his—how awakened and alive you felt. A cursed spirit would be a different story, though. And you preferred to not think more about it just yet. You only hoped you would never be trapped in one.

About to turn another page, you felt that all too familiar rush of dread.

No…not right now. It was too soon.

A gasp left your lips, and you went rigid. Before you could even think to warn Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara of what they were about to witness, the upper portion of your body violently snapped back into the bed.

The headboard smacked against the wall loud enough to alert the students. One breath was all you could take before a sudden coldness infected every portion of your body. Then, you began to cease, all control of your body vanishing.

“Y/N?” Yuji immediately shot up from the beanbag, followed by his duo. They all rushed to your bed as if sensing the pressure in the room change. The candle you had burning blew out as Yuji scooped his hands under your head, trying his best to cradle you. “What’s wrong?”

“Is she okay?” Megumi barked, eyes wide in concern. Nobara’s eyes shot to the now-smoking candle.

A few more spasms ricocheted through your body, and you grit your teeth in an attempt to relax. All you needed to speak was a few strained sentences. Your body was so stiff, and you could feel your hands clench. Your eyes started to droop before you could stop them.

“N…Notebook…” you stuttered, trying to gesture to the only one sitting on your desk. “And quill!” you forced out. It clicked without further explaining for Megumi, and he snatched them and brought them to you.

Yuji, on the other hand, was frantic, shouting your name over and over again. Nobara was reaching for her cell phone, yelling about calling an ambulance.

“Normal!” you cried out, shaking uncontrollably. “It's normal…” You went limp in Yuji’s arms and were finally able to rush out what you needed. “Don’t call anyone–” you strained.

It wasn’t a typical seizure; you knew it. Your body contorted in ways that looked painful and unnatural, and you knew you were scaring them. This was the first time you were losing control in front of others. Tears started gathering in the corner of your eyes from the fear of it all, from the judgment and the embarrassment.

Then, your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you ceased again. It would continue to happen until you picked up that stupid quill. You felt helpless, not just for yourself but for your poor brother, who was now about to witness just how strange you really were.

The last thing you felt was Megumi sliding the quill into your enclosed grip.

Gojo felt the shift before he opened your door, the gifts he brought back for you and the students falling to the floor as he burst through it, freezing as his eyes settled on your contorted body. You were utterly still, the only part of you moving was your hand, metal tip scribbling against the paper. The sound of it was abhorrent as if every etch foretold destruction. Invisible dread hung in the air, undoubtedly coming from whatever prophecy you were weaving.

But your eyes were what scared him. They were completely rolled back into your head, so much so that the blood vessels looked as if they were going to burst. You suddenly began to twitch violently, making Yuji gasp with concern, making Gojo rush to your side, dancing along a frantic line.

“Gojo Sensei!” Megumi turned to him with wide eyes. “What’s happening?”

“It's okay!” He approached you as if he was in a trance, and the students moved aside. He didn’t know if you were okay if this was normal or expected. You had only summarized these episodes briefly.

Once he was at your side, his knees gave out. He felt almost paralyzed, gazing at you in such apparent pain and unable to think of a way to fix it. This was an undiscovered form of cursed energy. He tried desperately to scan through his memories for one instance of something similar but came up with nothing.

“She was fine just a second ago,” Nobara muttered in shock, glancing around as if she could solve it and relieve your predicament.

“Did she say anything before?” Gojo asked, eyebrows knitting with worry.

“T-That it was normal,” Yuji said, standing behind Gojo with a worried, distraught expression, noticing how his Sensei’s eyebrows furrowed as if he, too, was at a loss for what to do. Yuji couldn’t recall a time when Gojo was confused, let alone displayed such concern.

Gojo relaxed slightly but still reached out and adjusted your pillow to support your neck. At that point, he didn’t care if his students watched him reach out and caress your cheek. He was so worried. It didn’t matter if you had warned him about something like this. The way you twitched and gasped and the tears that still poured from the corners of your eyes made him furious.

Glancing at the notebook that your quill was scratching erratically on, Gojo still found it blank even as he used his six eyes. “I saw her last prophecy. But I can't see anything yet. I think she has to finish,” he whispered, grasping your other hand to let you know he was there for you.

Faintly, your pinky finger twitched against his palm, curving around his own finger before going limp again. Then, you twitched, a loud gasp heaving from your throat.

“Something is coming,” was all you said, eyes still rolled back before you shot up into a sitting position. It seemed impossible, but you began to scratch faster as your cursed energy burst to life, almost engulfing the entire room. All-consuming was the green aura, and the surprise of it all caused Gojo to jolt back. Nobara yelped in fright.

When everyone glanced back at you, they realized the notebook was floating, so were you and the loose items around you. And now, your eyes were glowing. Your aura was so unique, so rare. It was calming when it should be everything but.

The quill left the paper and began to brush more fluidly, calmly, and peacefully into the open space around you. Trying to focus, Gojo started to understand what you were actually doing. As beautiful as it was, the Kanji began to flow together to cast a spell. An ancient one, not a prophecy.

It felt like a mirage, as if Gojo was stepping through a rainbow. Beautiful colors, your beautiful face. The depths of your soul. The parts of you he craved to know. He saw flashes of you, moments that hadn't happened yet but felt like they were meant to. Your smile, your kindness, loyalty, and trust. Love was what it was. And he had so much of it to give. He would die for you in a heartbeat; he would do anything to keep that pretty smile on your face. He imagined himself holding you, imagined how amazing it would feel to call you his wife—he saw himself getting down on one knee, that expensive ring sparkling from inside a black velvet box. With tears streaming down your face, you nodded furiously. “I love you so much, Satoru.”

“Gojo what are you doing?” Megumi’s voice interrupted his vision, tinged with panic and warning.

The promised future vanished as quickly as it came, as Gojo realized he was holding your face, and you were holding his. No, not just his face; the fingers of your left hand were curled around his blindfold, and your right hand had begun to tug at the knot. You had almost slipped past the infinity that protected his soul. And you would have done it with ease.

Surprised, Gojo tugged his head back. And at the loss of contact, you gasped. A cry left your lips as the cursed energy you released shot back inside of you, snapping your body back to the bed. The silence that followed was deafening, and all anyone could hear was the sound of their pounding hearts, trying desperately to clear their minds of the haze your aura commanded.

The students and teacher all glanced at each other with dazed expressions. Glossy eyes and opened mouths proved that all of them had seen something, not just Gojo.

“What did you see Yuji?” Gojo asked, snapping back to reality faster than them. He knew you were okay by the steadiness of your breathing but was still cautious to get too close again.

Your brother blinked, still trying to comprehend what he’d seen. It felt so genuine and authentic like it had happened before. “I was sitting next to Y/N at a large dinner table. We all were…toasting to something. I don’t know what, but I was so happy. She told me how proud she was to be my sister. There were others there too but I couldn’t see their faces. You were on the other side of her, Sensei.”

Gojo’s eyes snapped to the others, taking note of Yuji’s explanation. A different vision, but similar to his—both of their visions highlight a relationship to you.

Megumi could feel Gojo’s gaze on him, knowing he’d been asked a question, but couldn’t muster a response. He knew he looked like a deer in the headlights, sort of how Yuji and Nobara both did. But instead of being able to explain what flashed through his mind, Megumi just swallowed hard in hopes of distracting himself from the pang in his chest.

There was no way, just no way. What had he even seen? Was it the future? Was it something he wanted and didn’t even know? All he knew was that the mirage had cracked the second he called you mom. Megumi had called you mom. There were no words to describe the feeling that constricted at his throat and prevented him from speaking. What he saw was you resting under a tree, nestled between his demon dogs and reading a book. They had grown a liking to you, just as he had.

“I need them for training, mom,” Megumi called over, rolling his eyes.

“But I’m so comfy!” you whined, and the dogs snorted in agreement.

“When you’re done, please let me know.”

What did that even mean? How did that happen? Regardless, the gaping hole of belongingness cracked open further. And as Megumi ruminated over what he’d seen, he was left even more confused.

“We were shopping for…clothes…” Nobara finally said, but stopped before finishing. She intentionally broke her Sensei's focus after noticing the turmoil and confusion in Megumi’s eyes. The unanticipated vision was confusing her, too. The two of you had been shopping for baby clothes. And as she thought harder, she realized you had a slight baby bump poking through your sundress. The floppy summer hat you wore could not conceal the happiness in your eyes as you looked at her, wondering which outfit she thought was the cutest. After she gave her advice, you replied, “You’re gonna be the best auntie ever.”

Was this a glimpse of the future? And if so, did the others have a similar premonition like hers?

Dazed, you finally opened your eyes. The overhead light blinded you, only for a moment, before you remembered where you were and who you were surrounded with. Tears slipped past your eyelids before you could stop them. There were so many emotions and questions racing through your entire body that it would be impossible to properly formulate them. You were shaking still, feeling like you were being chased out of an incredible high. A high that reached its peak and was crashing down, leaving you distraught and fatigued.

“I’m sorry!” you choked out between gasps, feeling like you were suffocating, sitting up to see all of them staring at you with apprehensive eyes. “I-I’m sorry—”

“It’s okay,” Gojo immediately rushed back to your side, grasping your failing hands and pressing them softly into your lap. “Take a deep breath. It’s okay.”

Nodding furiously with tears streaming down your face, you inhaled sharply, his touch instantly soothing you.

“Slower.” Gojo nodded. “It’s okay.”

Feeling the pounding in your ears start to fade, you swallowed, mustering a sad smile as you glanced at him. He looked so worried from what you could see on his face, and it made a peculiar hollowness reside within your thoughts, realizing you had ruined his arrival. Your surroundings were different, too. Your books and supplies were strewn across the floor, along with presents at the entrance to your room. Had Gojo brought home gifts?

“I don’t know what happened. That’s never happened before.”

Your expression of paranoia explained enough to the white-haired sorcerer. Was that look in your eyes one of guilt? What could you possibly feel guilty for? Were you afraid he wouldn't believe you?

“I believe you,” Gojo whispered, releasing his hands from covering yours. He hesitated, wanting to comfort you more, but relented. You probably needed your space anyway. There was no clear answer for what just happened, and you were nonplussed, looking to him for answers he couldn’t give you. At least, not immediately, but he would try his best.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Yuji questioned as he crossed the room, taking the opportunity to comfort you now that Gojo backed away. “Are you hurt?”

Remaining silent as Yuji gave you a hug, Gojo watched the two of you interact, mostly Yuji fussing over you, asking over and over again if you were okay. “No, no, I’m fine.” You tried your best to smile at your brother.

“Are you sure?” Gojo pressed further, recognizing the uncertainty in your eyes. This was a shock to everyone, Gojo especially, unsure how to feel about the glimpse into his future. Was it wise for him to know something that important? His feelings for you were already passional, and he was undeniably infatuated with you. A seer with comparable powers hadn’t been born in centuries, so the validity of your visions was unknown. But, visions were more tangible and easier to understand than prophecies. Was this a promise or a hint? Could it be changed based on the choices he made?

“Do you remember what happened?” Gojo finally asked after a stretch of silence.

Shaking your head, you looked over at the notebook beside you. The energy was palpable, and it was coming from it. You pushed it across the bed and nodded at him to take it. Part of you was scared to read its contents, from the impartial images that flashed through your mind, from the inexplicability of it all and the lack of understanding. What scared you the most, though, was that you were certain. What you saw was going to happen eventually. You didn’t know when or how it would happen, but it would. None of your predictions ever failed to come true.

Scanning the words, Gojo sat down on the bed next to you. He seemed calmer than you, acting like what he witnessed was an everyday experience. Somehow, it helped settle your thoughts. If he wasn't worried, there was no reason for you to be either. The trust you were developing for him only resonated deeper.

The students huddled around Gojo, trying to peak over his shoulder for a glimpse of the cursed energy.

“Let me see it!” Yuji whined.

That managed to make you laugh through your nose.

As soon as the sky is colored green,

The chosen one will realize their blindness

Souls will clash and die, but love will blossom

Children of clans from old fight demons that seek redemption,

The day the king returns, all hope will be lost until she aw—a. A. Awake. Awaken—अहं भाषा वदामि। त्मरक्षा एव वास्तविकशक्ति

संरक्षण-संरक्षण-आह्वानम्-नरके मृत्योः च मुक्तं अवगच्छन्त

रक्षणार्थं आह्वानम्-नरकेभ्यः मृत्योः च मुक्तम्

Death rebirths life

You saw what you'd written, the look of bewilderment on their faces, and the deafening silence that followed. Snatching the journal from Gojo, you brought it closer to get a better look.

“What language is that?” Nobara asked with furrowed eyebrows.

“It’s sanskrit,” Gojo replied lowly, confusion lacing his tone. Something odd was definitely happening. Only the oldest spells were written in that dead language, long before humans gained a proper understanding of what jujutsu entailed. He couldn’t understand all the words, only bits and pieces, referencing the oldest spells recorded in history.

“I-I don’t understand.” Your eyes glossed over with worry. “I don’t know Sanskrit.”

“I think only a few people do,” Megumi added.

“It looks like something hijacked your prophecy.” Gojo pointed out, noticing the green color fade from your cursed energy into something black and ancient. He pointed at one symbol. “This means I create.” He moved down the line. “And this means protection.”

“A protection spell?” Nobara muttered.

This felt too familiar, and the revelation was on the tip of Gojo’s tongue. Long ago, there was a clan of witches comprised entirely of women. Remnants of their bloodline still remained, but it had been hundreds of years since they were in power. Most of their history remained undocumented, but they specialized in prophecy and ancestral magic. Gojo skimmed through his memory, trying to recall the last written prophecy from the supreme.

Gojo looked at you, and it clicked into place.

A low, sinking feeling settled in your stomach.

“I need to speak with Y/N alone,” Gojo said to the students, not leaving room for debate. His tone was so firm that they reluctantly scrambled for the exit without protest.

Yuji glanced back at you hesitantly. Concern was engraved in his expression. He mouthed, text me before shutting the door behind him. You and Gojo listened to their footsteps scurrying down the hall, and he didn’t turn toward you until he heard all of their doors click shut. The scarcity they left behind was apparent, and you were growing nervous about what he would say.

“Do you know anything about your family history?”

All you could do was shake your head.

“I had my suspicions that you were more powerful, but now I’m suspecting you’ve been chosen as a conduit. What happened during your episode is called an emergence.”

Your demeanor stiffened. “What does that mean?”

“It could mean a lot of things. There hasn’t been a seer of your potential for centuries. There’s definitely a mix of bloodlines happening, as Yuji is Sukuna’s vessel and can remain in control of his body. You on the other hand, the eldest daughter, might be a descendant of a long-defunct clan that hasn’t been in power since Sukuna’s defeat, which they helped aid in. You are clearly vulnerable when you’re recording your prophecies, and I believe the Sanskrit was one of your ancestors taking that opening. I only know that it could be a protection spell, but we should have it translated just to make sure.” He paused. "

“How do you know this?”

“It’s only a theory so far. But the gift of prophecy is yours alone. The words you wrote… Will come true, all things considered,” Gojo trailed off, losing his train of thought. He wanted to tell you what you’d shown him and that the students had clearly seen something. But he didn't move; he barely even breathed. Ruminating over how beautiful you looked in that vision almost stopped his heart. He wasn't trying to be funny or flirty. He looked just as concerned and embarrassed as you, wishing he had the answers as always. But it seemed that only more questions arose when it came to you.

Gojo’s body language seemed conflicted. Maybe you were more spot-on than you assumed.

“Won't they?” he pried.

“I hope not.” You glanced away, only remembering the words of demise, scribbled over and over again before a dead language emerged, further adding to the confusion of your connection to this life. If Gojo's prediction was correct, it would strengthen the hopeless feeling rising in your chest that your entire life was a lie. How you now looked at yourself was anything but satisfactory, unaware of the promise of a better future that Gojo glimpsed.

A gift, like he said, but also a curse that you would never wish upon another. Every day that passed made you question if foresight really was a blessing.

All Gojo could configure was how tired you looked. A lifetime of information had been dumped on you within an hour. Instead of being hard on you like he initially promised in that bar, he wanted to comfort you. But that defeated look in your eyes spoke volumes of what you really needed.

There was no rush. At least, not yet.

"Why don't you get some rest,” he whispered, standing up to peel the covers back for you. “I’ll find a translator later.”

Sighing deeply, you glanced up at him before relenting, letting him pull the covers over your body. You watched Gojo as he stacked your books on your bedside table, tidying up what had been misplaced.

A part of you wished he would stay. And perhaps he would have if you asked, but the second your head snuggled into your pillow, the world started to fade away.

"Thank you, Satoru," you whispered faintly.

"For what, princess?"

"Everything." Was all you mustered in your enervated state. You really wanted to thank him for his willingness to help you, for not abandoning you or being afraid. For taking care of your brother, for not giving up, and for making you feel butterflies in a world of darkness and despair.

Turning off the lamp on your bedside table, Gojo watched your eyes flutter shut. He leaned down and pressed a kiss against your forehead. You hummed in response, the corners of your lips upturning sleepily.

He wondered if you saw the future as he did, speculating whether or not you wished for his presence the way he did yours. Regardless, he failed to express that you could rely on him no matter what and that you would never have to suffer alone again.

That may be the most potent form of love he could provide.

∘∙∘☾𖤓∘∙∘

Tags :) @aetrimis @ihatethisbye @that-one-enthusiast @ti-mame @torusmochi @azgucci @getosfavmonkeyy @allisonbaelfire @gojoslefttoenail

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #jujustu kaisen

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leonleonhart · 3 months

Text

i should stop posting incomplete art, but i dont want to

(i hope you can enjoy it anyway c: )

[quick edit to add that the painting being referenced is 'Ivan the Terrible and His Son Ivan’ by Ilya Repin!! Dx]

#final fantasy #final fantasy 16 #final fantasy XVI #ff16 #ffxvi #joshua rosfield #clive rosfield #tw blood #ff16 spoilers #my art

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jinxhallows · 1 year

Text

kinktober #oo1 | costume party

KINKTOBER 2023 || jinxhallows costume party (knife play) || lino x fem!reader summary: you and minho have been together for some time now, and you two get invited to an adult costume party at your local community center. not otherwise having an excuse to get dressed up, you convince him to go with you... warnings: knifeplay and all the things that entails (like SHARP BLADES and the DANGER OF BEING CUT, knicks, blood, etc), suggestively dub-con if you literally SQUINT, non-idol AU word count: 2.5k masterlist - click here

You have to admit, when the two of you agree on your Halloween costumes, you don't expect his choice to elicit such a reaction from you. You find yourself in front of the bathroom mirror, adjusting the fluffy bunny tail attached to your costume. You crane your head over your shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of the reflection to figure out what's happening. Just as you're struggling to make sense of it, your boyfriend enters the room. He's fully dressed as Ghostface for the annual Halloween party downtown. Kneeling down, he positions himself at eye level with your derrière, taking the tail into his hands with meticulous care.

With skilled fingers, he expertly repins the tail where it should be. Standing up, he lifts the Ghostface mask off his face, revealing a grin that speaks of mischief and excitement.

“I look pretty badass, don't I?” He asks, holding up his prop knife and pulling his mask back down over his face. "You do," you admit, trying to hide a smirk, "but the Fisher-Price butcher knife ain't cutting it, get it? Cutting it." Minho slides his mask back atop his head. He’s not amused.

His lids drop, and there isn't a trace of a smile on his face. He has taken your comment personally, particularly your jab at his choice of prop.

Your playful banter continues, and he retorts, "I could always get a real one, you know. We have plenty in the kitchen."

"And we would get arrested? You can't have real weapons at a Halloween party, Min. Are you crazy?"

His response is simply, "Yes."

You exchange a bemused look for a few seconds before grabbing your purse off the bathroom counter.

"Come on," you sigh, a grin breaking through the tension. "We're gonna be late." -

You both arrive at the costume party just in time to socialize with everyone and start drinking. It's right in the middle of the peak attendance time, so various creatures and ghouls with intriguing costumes fill the venue.

Amid the crowd, you notice a few Ghostface costumes, a popular choice for Halloween. As you stand in the hallway, waiting in line for the bathroom, you don't pay much attention to the people passing by who are also dressed like your boyfriend.

You've had a couple of drinks, and your tolerance isn't high, so your battery is rapidly running out after almost two hours at the party. You lean against the wall next to the bathroom with a sigh, growing annoyed at how long the person in front of you is taking. You pull out your phone and start texting Minho:

im over it.

Almost instantly, the bubbles indicating his reply in progress pop up,

me 2

wya?

You start typing your response.

"What's your favorite scary movie?"

In the dimly lit hallway of the community center, the presence of someone behind you initially startles you. However, when you turn around and see the person in a Ghostface costume, you roll your eyes.

"Haha, you got me, asshole."

The individual tilts their head to the side, extending their arm and flicking a thumb to reveal a very real, very sharp switchblade.

You step back immediately, your eyes wide with shock. This isn't your boyfriend; it has to be one of the other partygoers.

That's when you hear it—Minho's laughter, muffled underneath the mask as he slides it atop his head.

"Fisher Price, huh?" he teases.

You shove him with the heel of your hand into his chest, and the person ahead of you exits the bathroom, glancing between the two of you standing on either side of the door before walking away. You manage to catch the door before it closes and enter the stall, your earlier fright quickly dissipating. As you lock the stall, you can hear the DJ outside, urging everyone to hit the dance floor at that very moment.

"Good, perfect timing for us to slip out," you think to yourself.

You finish up, clean yourself, and go to wash your hands, rubbing them together with soap until they get nice and foamy. As you look up at yourself in the mirror, you notice that your makeup has lasted far longer than expected, and your nose is still marked with bunny whiskers drawn onto your cheeks.

You can't help but crinkle your nose at your reflection. You actually look really fucking cute.

The doorknob twists and pushes open, and you scramble across the room, an immediate realization dawning upon you—you'd forgotten to lock the door.

"Back up." Minho commands with a hushed urgency through the slender crack in the doorway. Instinctively, you grip the other side of the door, momentarily mistaken, thinking it might be someone else. However, the recognition in his eyes eases your anxiety. You yield, taking a few steps backward, granting him entry. As he crosses the threshold, you efficiently swing the door closed behind him, the definitive click of the lock resounding through the room. “There’s no way you had to go to the bathroom that bad.” You say, turning away from the door and facing the mirror. Leaning forward, you meticulously adjust your bunny ears, finessing them to sit perfectly centered. In the reflection, you observe your makeup once again, and pinch your upper eyelash, delicately securing the tiny, unruly section that threatened to lift.

In that moment, Minho's hands snake around your waist, pulling you into a close embrace from behind. His chin nestles atop your shoulder, the mask he was wearing still perched atop his head. A contented smile spreads across his face, his eyes sealed shut. He's intoxicated, not just from the night but from his deep affection for you.

“You make such an incredibly cute bunny, you know that?” He whispers, his lips tenderly pressing against your cheek. “Yeah, I do. That’s why I dressed up as one tonight, duh.” His smile drops as he opens his eyes. Again. He’s not amused. He sighs thoughtfully, the air in the room thickening. “You know, sometimes I fantasize about strangling you in your sleep.” You struggle to stifle the snigger that bubbles up from within you. "Yeah?" you taunt, subtly pressing your body back into his, playfully swaying your bunny tail as laughter escapes your lips. You secure his hands that rest gently on your tummy, holding them in place. “What part gets you off more? The struggle, or my last breath?” “Oh I don’t know…” Minho's response carries a sudden shift in tone, his voice adopting an unexpectedly innocent quality as he slyly slips his hand from underneath yours. His fingers trace along your hips, leisurely making their way to his back pocket, all the while maintaining unbroken eye contact with your reflection in the mirror.

“If I had to pick, I’d say that fear,” In one swift, chilling motion, he retrieves a switchblade from his back pocket, the audible click of its deployment making you involuntarily wince. The cold metal of the blade is brought swiftly to your neck, its back pressed gently against your throat, and you instinctively clutch his thighs behind you, a tremor of unease coursing through you at the unsettling contact of the knife against your skin. “That, right there, the moment before you die, when you really realize it’s about to be over.” Minho continues, his gaze dropping from your eyes to focus on the delicate curve of your jaw, which tilts slightly to the left. Your chest rises and falls beneath the ominous presence of his weapon, your breaths growing more pronounced. A heavy silence ensues, broken only by the sound of his sharp inhale through his teeth. “Yeah, that’s the part that gets me off.” “Min, this isn’t funny-” His left arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer as his warm breath brushes against your ear. “Y/N, nobody’s laughing.” A lump forms in your throat, noticeable even through your thick swallow, as you feel the cold edge of the blade he's holding.

The sudden change in your posture prompts a furrow in his brow, his gaze shifting downwards to where your cheeks curve beneath the sides of your bodysuit, creating a tantalizing silhouette that pushes further against his growing erection. “You’re really getting hard…at the idea…of murdering me. Min, that’s–” “It’s not to the idea of murdering you, I was fucking kidd–” “-kinda sexy?” It's enough to halt Minho in his tracks, a wry, half-hearted chuckle escaping his lips while a faint smile lingers on his face. With a casual gesture, he lowers the knife to his side, shaking his head in amused disbelief at your side before he returns his gaze to your reflection in the mirror.

Your own response is an infectious giggle, and he simply shrugs, readjusting his mask over his handsome features. “You’re so weird,” Minho remarks with a touch of humor in his voice, his dark chuckle gradually subsiding. His left hand gently cradles your jaw, tilting your head upward. With precision, he places the tip of the knife right at the junction where your ear meets your neck. You remain entirely compliant, entranced by the sensation of the blade's subtle pressure against your skin. It's a subtle reminder that even the smallest movement could lead to an inadvertent cut. Surprisingly, both of you find yourselves unexpectedly at ease. “Is this seriously turning you on?” he inquires, curiosity tingeing his voice as he traces the blade's edge down the side of your neck, towards the apex of your full breasts. You watch him in the mirror, and yeah, Minho is pretty to look at, especially when he fucks you, yet, in this moment, his disguise as Ghostface adds an intriguing layer of taboo to the situation, as if you're venturing into uncharted territory.

"Hey," his voice pierces the air, sharp and commanding, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. “I asked you a question, and you know I don’t like being ignored.” “Y-Yeah,” you breathe, your voice trembling slightly, “I don’t know why, but it's turning me on.” “I know why,” A soft chuckle escapes Minho's lips, and he allows the blade to glide toward the V-shaped neckline of your bodysuit. Applying the gentlest of pressure, the fabric splits almost instantly, without the need for any sawing motion. As he pushes further down, the knife cleanly separates your suit into two, stopping only when it reaches your navel piercing. “Because you’re the one fantasizing about me killing you.” As soon as he says it, it becomes clear. Those nights you’ve spent with your hand around your throat, stars bursting behind your eyes as you would work yourself into a state of frenzied pleasure, gasping out his name. It wasn’t just about being choked, Minho does plenty of that in the bedroom with you, instead, it was about pushing the boundaries, teetering on the precipice of discomfort, and riding the exhilarating edge towards climax. It had always been a deeply personal exploration, something you'd never shared aloud, let alone admitted.

Yet now, as Minho uncovers your secret desire, you find yourself rendered blissfully ecstatic by the mere sensation of a switchblade brushing your skin at various points on your body.

“You ruined m-my costume,” You make a poor attempt at resistance as his left palm squeezes your breast, causing you to grip the edge of the ceramic sink harder.

“You wanted me to,” Minho presses the flat side of the blade flush between your folds, your breath quickens as he grabs your chin, directing your face back to the mirror.

“Say it.”

“I wanted you to.” You give in.

“Wanted me to what?”

You swallow. “I wanted you to ruin my costume.”

Minho takes the knife away, pulling his mask up and off, shaking his hair out as he looks at you in the mirror. “My, you do make a reaaally hot bunny, baby, do you see yourself?” His voice is getting raspier as his gaze falls onto your body in front of him, down your back, and he angles his hips forward, against your tail.

“Thank you, baby.”

You have no choice, his grip underneath your jaw is still tight. You move your head up and down, barely, acknowledging yourself the way he’s asked you to.

Your submissive tone takes him by surprise as he looks back up to you. “Where’d all that attitude go?” He cocks a smile, and you flinch as you feel him slip his knife between your skin and the fabric of the gusset of your bodysuit. He wastes no time in cutting it, the stretchy fabric snapping against your skin as it separates.

Minho puts the knife between his teeth, using both hands to rip the nude stockings, another senseless layer keeping him away from your delicious pussy, followed by your thin g-string that he slides aside, bringing his hand back to pull the waist of his pants down, gripping the base of his cock that sits so perfectly at your dripping entrance.

Then you have the audacity to speak up.

“Min, hold on,” Your sense returns, if only for a few seconds, “We’re at a party, what if we get caught?”

It’s enough to get him to remove the knife from his teeth and hold the dull side against your throat, but pressing in enough to make your breathing more audible.

“We won’t get caught if you keep your mouth shut.” His eyes watch you from the side, his mouth slightly ajar, as he slides himself the rest of the way inside of you to the hilt. He laughs under his breath, thrusting inside you again, a little harder this time.

“Good bunny,” you bite your lip hard to contain yourself as he slaps your ass, holding onto your hip as he fucks you, never, not once, letting up off your throat.

“M-Min-“

“Shh,” he whispers, the tip of it against your lower lip, “Be quiet and let me fuck you, you’ve been asking for it all night.”

You extend your tongue, the blade flattened against the moist muscle, and your eyes roll back involuntarily as you release an audible, desperate moan. Sensing his proximity to climax, you feel the pressure ease on his blade, his ragged breaths escaping through his flaring nostrils. His head falls back, the blade clattering into the bowl of the sink, warm, sticky spurts of cum painting your walls, his hips spasming while you contract around him. You instinctively push back, stimulated by the feeling, your inner muscles squeezing him, while his hands come to rest on your hips, torn between wanting to stop you and being too ensnared in the pleasure's aftermath to act.

Finally, he regains his composure, blinking and widening his eyes as he lets out a sigh, his cheeks puffing up momentarily. He gazes at your reflection in the mirror.

“Yeah, you definitely get off on the idea of murdering me.” you remark, picking up his switchblade and securely locking it back in its place. You turn to face him, a smirk playing on your lips. "And you'd better escort me out the back; I'm completely exposed now, you asshole." You gracefully move past him into the stall, tending to the remnants of his release running down your bare thighs and legs.

He chuckles,

“Ah, there’s the attitude.” - fin

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art-that-fucks-you-up-tournament · 1 year

Text

SET FOURTEEN - ROUND ONE - MATCH SEVEN

"Reply of the Zaporozhian Cossacks" (1880–1891 - Ilya Repin) / "Garden of Earthly Delights" (1490-1510 - Hieronymus Bosch)

REPLY OF THE ZAPOROZHIAN COSSACKS: Uuuuuuooo I’m pretty sure somebody has submitted the world famous Repin with the fella holding his dead son, and yeah that one is truly harrowing and I think it should be in the final bracket cause it would sweep but Repin has such a range and it’s all very deeply felt and sensitive stuff. For this one he did a couple of versions - you could pick either because they’re both rich in a really immediate sense of humanity. Again on the technical side this is a truly bonkers piece of work because he stitched its elements together from countless studies of people he knew and the result is still somehow a Realist masterpiece rather than the patchwork amalgamation you’d expect.

And each figure isn’t just irresistibly human - he gives all of them so much tangible warmth (the riotous laughter! The attention paid to detail in their clothes! The irritated dog in the bottom left corner) and the fact that theyre all his friends and colleagues is really charming. Dunno if its like “molten lava” kind of evocation of emotion but it certainly makes me feel something. ( @idiotpalespiral )

GARDEN OF EARTHLY DELIGHTS: think it's one of the greatest odes to human imagination and it's insane that it was painted around 1500. it's hard to overstate how innovate and unique bosch's art is. besides, he probably hadn't even ever taken acid in his life, so i don't know how he did that (@cuties-in-codices)

(The "Reply of the Zaporozhian Cossacks" is an oil on canvas painting by Ukranian born Russian artist Ilya Repin. A large number of the "Cossacks" are modelled after either friends of Repin or people he saw around him, including the bald head belonging to the Grand Chamberlain of the court of the Russian Emperor who declined to be added and Repin painted in anyway. This painting measures 203 cm × 358 cm (80 in × 141 in) and is located at the State Russian Museum in Saint Petersburg. The submitter originally submitted the preliminary version of the piece.

"The Garden of Earthly Delights" is a triptych oil painting by Hieronymus Bosch. It measures 205.5 cm × 384.9 cm (81 in × 152 in) and is located in the Museo del Prado, Madrid.)

#art that fucks you up tournament #polls #atfyu polls #id in alt text #cw nudity #cw body horror #i mean this is so well known and also not a closeup so idk what to tag it for #i am not even trying to describe 90 percent of that

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fictionadventurer · 11 months

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John Adams, please?

I'm going to take this opportunity to show you these letters between John and Abigail Adams after she gave birth to a stillborn daughter. It made me cry, thinking about these two parents, nearly 250 years ago, grieving over their child, making me, far in the future, grieve over this child who never got to live past birth.

Abigail to John:

Join with me my dearest Friend in Gratitude to Heaven, that a life I know you value, has been spaired and carried into Distress and danger altho the dear Infant is numbered with its ancestors. My apprehensions with regard to it were well founded. Tho my Friends would have fain perswaded me that the Spleen the Vapours had taken hold of me I was perfectly sensible of its discease as ever before was of its existence. I was also aware of the danger which awaited me; and which tho my suffering were great thanks be to Heaven I have been supported through , and would silently submit to its dispensations in the loss of a sweet daughter; it appeard to be a very fine Babe, and as it never opened its Eyes in this world it lookd as tho they were only closed for sleep. The circumstances which put an end to its existence, was evident upon its birth, but at this distance and in a Letter which may possibly fall into the Hands of some unfealing Ruffian I must omit particulars. Suffice it to say that it was not oweing to any injury which I had sustaind, nor could any care of mine have prevented it. My Heart was much set upon a Daughter. I had had a strong perswasion that my desire would be granted me. It was--but to shew me the uncertainty of all sublinary enjoyments cut of e'er I could call it mine. No one was so much affected with the loss of it as its Sister who mournd in tears for Hours. I have so much cause for thankfulness amidst my sorrow, that I would not entertain a repineing thought. So short sighted and so little a way can we look into futurity that we ought patiently to submit to the dispensation of Heaven. I am so comfortable that I am amaizd at myself, after what I have suffrd I did not expect to rise from my Bed for many days. This is but the 5th day and I have set up some Hours. I However feel myself weakend by this exertion, yet I could not refrain the temptation of writing with my own Hand to you. Adieu dearest of Friends adeiu. Yours most affectionately.

John to Abigail:

My dearest Friend Never in my whole Life, was my Heart affected with such Emotions and Sensations, as were this Day occasioned by your Letters of the 9.10.11 and 16 July. Devoutly do I return Thanks to God, whose kind Providence has preserved to me a Life that is dearer to me than all the other Blessings in this World. Most fervently do I pray, for a Continuance of his Goodness in the compleat Restoration of my best Friend to perfect Health. Is it not unaccountable, that one should feel so strong an Affection for an Infant, that one has never seen, nor shall see? Yet I must confess to you, the Loss of this sweet little Girl, has most tenderly and sensibly affected me. I feel a Grief and Mortification, that is heightened tho it is not wholly occasioned, by my Sympathy with the Mother. My dear little Nabbys tears are sweetly becoming her generous Tenderness and sensibility of Nature. They are Arguments too of her good sense and Discretion.

#answered asks #presidential talk #i hope this isn't disappointing #most of the adams stuff i've come across so far hasn't talked much about his presidency #just talked about founding father stuff and jefferson stuff #and i've wanted to talk about these letters ever since i read them

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the-angband-confessional · 3 months

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*Looks at Melkor for a moment before sighing*

You know what, my Lord? I usually see myself as a pretty okay person most of the time. I do, however, happen to have a pretty mischievous side to my personality. My mischief has even led to me being jokingly called the Spawn of Morgoth. Wouldn't surprise me if you found it funny in a way....

There's no denying that I'm drawn to you, is there, haha... Damn. Well! I guess I'm fated to walk between light and dark.

*tries everything in their power to not think about the interesting Melkor book they're reading, squashing any said book related thought that surfaces*

"There are many with such dispositions here," the Vala says, "and I find their acts of mischief to be quite amusing, provided they do not neglect their duties, and provided I am not inconvenienced in any way."

He becomes silent for a moment, and then he says, "Spawn of Morgoth is indeed quite the epithet, and you should bear it with pride. I also urge you to choose the darkness. There is much freedom to be found within it, and many other delights besides. Come! Join us! There will be no cause for you to repine if you do."

#the-angband-confessional #blossoms-of-darkness #confessional-sfw #melkor #melkor x reader #melkor x you

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ghoul-foolery · 1 month

Text

Date Night | Part 2 of 3

Hancock x Nora (F! Sole Survivor)

Tags: MDNI, mentions of masturbation, sexual tension, dirty talk, Rad-X as pre-game. Note: The smut is in the next chapter.

[ Part 1 ] - [ Part 3 ]

“Friends can fuck.”

“Oh,” she said, like she didn’t know. Like it was some foreign concept. Like it was some secret, forbidden dark knowledge.

“Is that why you stopped me? Because we’re friends?”

“I didn’t want to risk our friendship, and I really didn’t want to put you in that position. Especially when you were just being nice…”

Hancock’s lips brushed her ear as he rasped, “If you knew I wanted it too, would you have stopped me?”

Nora had said she’d meet Hancock in the hotel lobby in 10 minutes.

It seemed like an obtainable goal. Fluff up the flattened bun, repin some wayward locks of hair that had gotten free. While she would openly admit that she was deeply out of practice, 10 minutes should have been beyond enough; and it would have been if her meddlesome thoughts had stopped introducing the idea of taking the edge off of all of the lingering, anticipatory energy.

It will be quick, her nagging mind purred. Stretch out on the bed and take care of it.

She could see the bed in the mirror. It could be quick. Or it could turn into some hard-fought thing that ended up taking too long, and maybe she’d give up before being even close to a finish. It was that thought alone that prevented her from giving in. She told Hancock she would be ten minutes, and she would be ten damn minutes.

Imagine him between your thighs again. You could probably set a record.

Blinking once, twice, she realized she was staring at the bed instead of doing her hair. Cursing her wandering thoughts, Nora did her best to focus on pinning, and reshaping, and taming the bun into something elegant. Or, at least, something somewhat presentable.

You could probably still smell him if you put your head on the pillow. That could help.

Nora’s eyes caught on the reflection of the bed again, just a lingering moment, the thought of going to see if she could–

“Stoppit,” she griped at herself. Where was all of this coming from? From left goddamn field, that’s where. Hancock was a relentless, equal opportunity flirt. And, yeah, Nora would flirt back, but she had never once thought about him like that . Well, actually, that was mostly a lie. Nora had thought of Hancock like that, but it was less ‘go masturbate to thoughts of your best friend’, and more of a passing curiosity.

What would all of the grooves, and roughness feel like–

It took Nora nearly 20 minutes to give up on trying to tame her thoughts, and style her hair. Getting out of the room thankfully helped. With the thoughts, not with the hair. The hair was what it was, and she did her best with the limited tools she had.

With the first bare-footed step out into the hallway landing, all of the frazzled nerves that had her whole body practically buzzing turned into giddy excitement. Taking to the stairs, she couldn’t help but feel like a kid again. Sixteen, all gussied up, descending the stairs to meet her date for her first school dance. Her mom had been misty-eyed, and her father had been stone-faced, and the boy picking her up was nervous.

Hancock wasn’t nervous, not that she had expected him to be. When she had first rounded the landing and started her descent down the final flight of stairs, she spotted him propping up the front desk. He was leaning on one of his arms, chattering away with Clair, the hotel’s manager. There was a pair of black kitten heels in his hand. Nora took the moment to consider him.

Dress. Dinner. Drinks. Dancing. You, me, fucking date night, he had proclaimed. And he had capped it off with coming to her hotel room to pick her up. He knew that she was a sucker for sweet little gestures, and that would have been one of the sweetest if she hadn’t botched it with her self consciousness. Nora watched as he threw his head back and laughed at something Clair said, and she decided she would be better for the rest of the evening. There would be no more loathing thoughts. And she would absolutely not dwell on the knife-sharp recollection of her mother talking about putting a ‘pig in a wig’. Nora would thank him for the shoes, and she would let herself enjoy the night with the Mayor of Goodneighbor, because it was an official mayoral decree and they took those things seriously.

As she stepped into the lobby, she quietly cleared her throat to announce her arrival. Hancock turned his head, and immediately smiled. It started out as one of his signature slanted, lazy grins that grew large and full. It showed his teeth, it reached his eyes. It looked so genuine. So happy, and pleased.

“There’s my girl,” Hancock rasped in greeting as she crossed the space between them. He stooped to the ground, placing the heels side-by-side, the toes facing him. Then he swapped them around, making sure the shoes would match with the correct feet. By the time he straightened, she was coming to a stop just in front of him. He offered her his hand. Nora took it, accepting his support as she slipped into the heels.

“Good?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she replied, trying to keep the surprise out of her voice. Heels could be so hit-or-miss. “A perfect fit.”

“I’m onna fuckin’ roll today,” he teased as he lifted their joined hands over their heads. It was a silent command, a fluid push and pull of his arm, that urged Nora into a slow twirl on the tips of her toes. Following his lead felt so natural that she didn’t even fall out of balance when he pushed her into another spin.

“Look at you, babe,” Hancock said. As she came out of the turn, he tugged her in close. He guided the hand in his grasp to his chest. The other hand came to a natural rest on his shoulder. Nora couldn’t help but be surprised by the flawless execution, despite how slow and relaxed the movements had been. “Goddamn, girl.”

Trying to tamper down her blush, Nora mumbled a, “Stop,” as she swatted at his shoulder.

“Gonna need to get you more pretty dresses to run around in, I think,” he continued on, threading her arm into the crook of his as he escorted her out of the hotel lobby. “Whaddaya say?”

“Only if I get to see you in a suit,” Nora countered, walking along beside him. “Not that I don’t love the Hancock duds, but if I have to crawl out of the vault suit and into a dress, then we need to find you a tux or something.”

“Don’t pretend that you don’t like it. Yer fuckin’ glowing.”

“Must be the sequins.”

“You’re so right. It’s the sequins,” he agreed, then tossed his head as he rolled his eyes. But then he suddenly slowed to a stop just in front of the door. “Hey,” he said. “If you’re hating this, like really fucking hating it, we can cancel. I’m not gonna twist yer arm if—“

“No,” Nora said in earnest. “I really honestly love it. Dressing up and having my date come pick me up is, well. It’s kinda dumb how much I like it.”

That slanted smile as he replied, “Knew you would.”

“I just got a little self conscious earlier, and I’m still trying to shrug it off. Buy me a drink and I’m sure it’ll go away.”

“I think I can do that for ya, know why?”

“Because it’s date night?”

“Because it’s fucking date night!” He crowed as he shoved the door open. “But also I own the bar so I get a pretty sweet deal.”

The weather was nice enough that Nora wouldn’t have minded a nice long walk, as opposed to a quick jaunt across the street. Hancock was patient as she took a little extra care down the steps that descended into the Rail. Pre-bombing she basically lived in heels, and could run a couple of Boston blocks in them without a single issue. Now going down some stairs in kitten heels left her feeling just a mite unsteady. The smell of food, booze, and smoke greeted them with open arms as Magnolia’s velvety crooning voice echoed around them. The evening was just kicking off, and yet the bar was nearly full.

They typically took up residence at the bar proper. It offered up the fastest service, but they also got a front row seat to see Whitechapel Charlie’s customer service skills. Which were close to non-existent. And that was what was so fun about it. As Nora fell into step to approach the bar, Hancock redirected her towards a booth seat that tucked up against the back wall. There was a single lit candle in the middle of the table, barely competing with all of the neon but still there and flickering bright.

Nora bit the inside of her lip to stop herself from smiling too big–

“I knew you’d like that little detail,” Hancock said as he guided her to the seat. She scooped the already tight skirt against the backs of her legs as she sat, and scooted inward. “You want your usual?”

“Know my usual, do you?” She said, voice soft, teasing, and maybe just a little flirty.

There was something in the way his black eyes reflected all the neon and the flickering candle that made him look downright devilish as he winked. “You know I do.”

Hancock took one step backwards, before he pivoted and made his way to the bar. People lit up when they saw him. While they had only been away from Goodneighbor for a couple of weeks, the patrons in the Rail acted as if it had been years. People called out greetings, they raised glasses and welcomed him home. He took every ounce of the recognition with casual ease, greeting some like they had been lifelong friends. It struck Nora, in that moment, that everyone he could be with for the evening, and he had chosen to spend it with her. For a date night.

All these little moments were stacking up. Knowing her bra size, shoe size, dress size. Picking her up for their evening out, and knowing her go-to dinner at the Rail. Then there was everything in her hotel room. The way Hancock insisted that they were partners, and the way he insisted that they would work through her silly insecurities together . And the way he had brushed his knuckles against her—

I know, doll. I know, he had said, his voice so grating and low she had felt it reverberate into her skin. Nora felt like sinking under the table and hiding but barely managed to refrain. Oh god. But if he knew what she thought he knew, he was paying it zero mind. In fact, if he did actually know that Nora had been teetering much too close to the brink of ‘my best friend might accidentally make me cum’, he hadn’t backed off. In fact, he seemed fine with continuing until she had backed off. He’d even checked in with her to make sure she was fine to keep going.

Oh. Did he maybe want to make her—

No, no. That was assuming that he knew. He could know literally anything else, he could know nothing at all.

Leave it alone, drop it.

“Foods been ordered,” Hancock said as he placed an accumulation of glasses on the table.

There were four shot glasses filled with clear liquid; probably vodka. A rocks glass was placed in front of her, filled with amber liquid and a twist of citrus peel. Nora recognized it as Charlie’s post-war variant of an Old Fashioned. Then there was another glass of amber liquid. Nora knew without question that it was whiskey.

Once he was settled into the booth, he tossed a casual arm around her shoulders, picking up one of the shot glasses and holding it as if he was going to make a toast. Nora snagged one too, mimicking him. Together, they touched the glasses to the table, and then downed their shots. Hancock took it like water. No reaction; no twist of his lips, no grimace as the alcohol worked its magic. Nora, meanwhile, cringed and shivered and immediately reached for the second. She was going to enjoy their evening together. She was not going to steep herself in all of the worry and concern of the maybes and the guilt. She was going to embrace their date night, and she was going to relax, and have fun.

Hancock joined her for round two. The shot glasses were knocked against the table, and downed a beat later.

“Shit, Nor,” He snickered, pushing the spent glasses to the corner of the table. “You gonna keep that pace up all night?”

“I think I’d die.”

“Or wanna be dead. I’ll totally hold yer hair if ya need me to.”

“If I start puking, you have my permission to abandon me,” Nora snorted, basking in the way the alcohol pooled and settled in her stomach, warming and relaxing and immediately soothing in a way she desperately needed. The rest of the evening would be taken at a slower pace. She wouldn’t be downing shots all night.

“I’d never abandon you, babe,” he said as he took a swig of his whiskey. He took a moment to let the liquid roll around his mouth and coat his tongue, then he swallowed. Nora’s eyes caught on the way his throat bobbed.

The two drifted into easy conversation. Nora told Hancock about her first (terrible, awful) experience with alcohol, and he chased hers with his. Hancock’s arm had stayed looped comfortably around her shoulders as they talked, and Nora found herself leaning in all snug against him. They were so close it was hard to look away from him. Not like she wanted to. Maybe it was the one-two punch of the vodka shots, but Nora was absolutely enamored with the way all of the lights reflected in his eyes.

“Thanks, Charlie,” Hancock said as he looked up and away.

The loss of eye contact, paired with the sudden absence of his arm, Nora felt like a spell had just been broken. Nora blinked, just noticing that their dinner, and another round of shots, had been delivered and Charlie was already drifting away. She also realized how cozy she had gotten into Hancock’s side. She sat upright, peering at her plate. Hancock did indeed know her Third Rail usual. A fist-sized filet of brahmin, paired with cuts of various grilled vegetables.

“I’m starting to think you know me too well,” Nora joked, but couldn’t help but be too pleased with the gesture.

“What, like you don’t know my favorites by now?”

Hancock liked macaroni and cheese when he was high – actually, he preferred Takahashi’s noodles, but since those weren’t readily available, he settled for macaroni and cheese. If he had the choice between brahmin and radstag he would pick radstag, and when he had radstag he preferred to drink whiskey or bourbon. After a long childhood working fishing nets by the bay, he had an aversion to most fish dishes but he occasionally made an exception for angler if it was poached in tomato sauce. In the cold of winter he’d probably eat stew for breakfast, lunch, and dinner if she let him, and in the heat of summer he didn’t like to eat much of anything at all if it meant he had to go near a fire or an oven to cook.

“Yeah, but I don’t know your dress size.”

Hancock leaned in as if he was telling a secret as he said, “You keep being sweet for me, and I might tell you later.”

They were both roughly midway through their meals when Hancock suddenly slid from the booth. She turned to watch him go, on the brink of asking him if he could order her a water, when he crooked his index and middle fingers at her, beckoning her to follow. Just as she was about to politely inform him that she wasn’t done eating, Magnolia started to croon the opening lyrics to Goodneighbor. Dinner, drinks, dancing. Nora gave him a look that she hoped conveyed ‘oh come on, you want to dance to Good Neighbor?’, and he replied with another slow, deliberate, curl of his fingers.

Making a show of rolling her eyes, Nora scooted from the booth, and was immediately swept to the front of the room, right in front of Magnolia’s stage, just to the side of the bar. The song started slow, with a gentle upkick to the tempo, which Hancock matched and guided her through with complete ease. He didn’t shy away from pushing her into eager spins, guiding her body out and then reeling her back in close and flush…

When Magnolia’s voice drifted into quiet, Nora was smiling; a big stupid smile, because dancing with Hancock was fun, and while she’d insist that she was absolutely rubbish at dancing, she loved it so, so much. Nora was readying herself to swing by the bar to order that water, but the music dipped into something slower - something that called more for soft closeness and less pressing, swaying hips – and Hancock didn’t let go. So, instead, she allowed herself to melt into him, letting the side of her head lull against his. Her cheek pressed against the sloping angle of his jaw. Their joined hands were brought to rest against his chest. He gripped her hip. She draped her fingers over his shoulder. They fell into the gentle drift of the beat.

“Thank you for all of this,” Nora said softly, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “We really should do this sort of thing more often.”

“Just glad yer not so antsy now,” he murmured into her ear as they swayed. “Thought you were ready to go jump out of a window to get away from me earlier.”

“Hm? When?” she had been curled up to him like an affectionate cat, unable to look away, and not really wanting to–

“Earlier. When I was shaving yer legs.”

The alcohol had taken the edge off, it had eased her into a state of calm where she was once again allowed to enjoy her friend’s company without feeling like she was accidentally committing a crime.

She wasn’t drunk by any means, but she was certainly emboldened enough to say, “Well, if you absolutely must know. I was sort of getting ridiculously turned on earlier. And I started to feel guilty, because you’re my friend and you were doing me a favor and not signing up for whatever the hell was going on…”

“Don’t think I wasn’t going to push my luck, Nor.”

Hancock’s rasping voice dragged the air from her lungs. Nora’s steps faltered, teetering out of synchronicity before he was pulling her back into step.

“Huh?”

“I was going to offer to take care of you. Thought we were on the same page until you decided to wrap things up.” He said it so matter-of-fact.

“Take care of me,” she echoed weakly. She was suddenly so deeply aware of his body heat, and the smell of him. The way his hand cradled hers to his chest. And all the sweet closeness. Sonnova bitch, she had been so keyed up earlier that she had contemplated rubbing one out before meeting him–

He hummed softly.

“Huh–” Girl, come on. She swallowed. “How?”

The way he growled, “I was really fond of the idea of pushing those see-through panties aside and fucking you with my tongue, my fingers…” sent her whole world teetering on its axis. “Wanted to taste you so fucking bad, Nora.”

So he did fucking know.

“We’re friends…” she said, because that is what she had been telling herself as he had worked her into a curious, needy little mess back in the Rexford.

“Friends can fuck.”

“Oh,” she said, like she didn’t know. Like it was some foreign concept. Like it was some secret, forbidden dark knowledge.

“Is that why you stopped me? Because we’re friends?”

“I didn’t want to risk our friendship, and I really didn’t want to put you in that position. Especially when you were just being nice…”

They weren’t even dancing anymore. Yet they still hadn’t moved to part ways. He still had her gathered close, and she was still leaning into him. But she wasn’t completely sure when the hands at his chest laced together. His overlapped hers, his fingers threading and curling against his chest. He held onto her as if he was afraid of her running away.

Hancock’s lips brushed over her skin as he said, “If you knew I wanted it too, would you have stopped me?”

“No,” she breathed, her voice sounding weak and feeble. “I don’t think so.”

“And what would you say if I told you I still wanted it? What if I told you I wanted to taste you right fucking now? That I wanted to bend you over and fuck you in this pretty dress you like so much?” His voice was doing things to her. It filled her stomach with butterflies. Made her head feel a little light. When he exhaled his breath fanned her neck, drawing goosebumps and delighted shivers–

She found a fragment of lucidity, and managed, “Must be the sequins.”

Hancock barked a laugh, some of the growing tension easing as he smiled against her cheek. “I’m willing to find out if you are.” When she didn’t immediately respond he added, “Stay with me tonight.”

“Yeah,” she said. Why did she feel like she was shaking? Why could she feel her pulse in her throat? Nerves were a bitch. “Okay.”

“C’mon,” he ground out, finally extracting himself from her, but not releasing her hand. “Let’s get outta here.”

Hancock guided her out of the bar, up the stairs, and out into the street. Dinner and drinks were left unfinished, but he didn’t care. Nora couldn’t help but wonder if he was just that eager. So eager he didn’t bother finishing dinner, or his drink. So eager that they were abandoning date night and heading straight to his room in the Old State House.

Pre-war, pre-Nate, she had never been one for fuck buddies. She could see the appeal, had thought about it a time or two, but Nora was a jealous sort and wasn’t a fan of sharing. She could do a night though. Some steamy little fling that would hopefully leave her completely sated and her mind clear. He said he had wanted to take care of her, and she really hoped he would.

They stepped into his room — sparsely decorated, just a queen sized bed and a desk — and the door closed.

“So, how—“

So, how do we do this, she was going to ask. Do we set rules, and boundaries, she was going to ask. Do we avoid kissing, or are we just going for it.

The line of questioning was severed as she was shoved back against the door – her head would have knocked against the wood if it weren’t for the way he cradled the back of her head in his palm. Hancock caught Nora’s surprised little gasp with his mouth, capturing her in a fleeting kiss that immediately melted into the next. Soft, sultry, lingering, coaxing her mouth open just enough for his tongue to caress inward and then retreat—

“We need to get some Rad-X in you before we kick this off, alright baby?” Baby. Not babe. Baby. That was new. She liked the way he rasped it like sandpaper against her lips, and liked the way she could taste it. His hand drifted from her hair, cupping her neck, caressing her skin as he moved to thumb her chin. He kissed her lower lip, traced it with his tongue. “Then we’ll have to burn some time while we wait for it to kick in.”

“For how long?”

His smile was wicked as he took a step backward, then another. He drawled, “Long enough.” before turning and retreating to the desk.

Nora slipped out of the heels, as Hancock rifled through his desk. It took but a moment for him to find the bottle he was looking for. He shook it like a rattle, the pills jingling in the glass container. She went to him. He shook one of the pills into his hand.

When Nora went to take it from him, he pulled his hand back.

“If this is where you change your mind, I swear.”

He chuckled, his smile lopsided. “About this? Never.” And yet he pulled his hand away when she reached for it again. That’s when he took the Rad-X and placed it onto the flat of his tongue. “Want you to take it from me.”

Mangled fingers curled into the material of her dress and he dragged her forward, his hips pressing against hers. His mouth was already drifting forward, lips parted and waiting but again, when she leaned forward to take, he bobbed his head back – Nora kissed air.

“You’re a menace, John Hancock."

His mouth was close again, ghosting over hers as purred, “You love it. Now come and fucking get it, baby.”

[ Part 1 ] - [ Part 3 ]

#Hancock x Sole Survivor #Hancock x Nora #Fallout 4 Fanfiction #Fanfiction #Ghoul x Human #dirty talk #mdni #fallout companions #date night #Fallout Hancock #self consciousness #smut next chaper #Nora's mom just sucks throughout every iteration I do and I should explore that #FO4 #Fallout 4

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gempuff11 · 4 months

Text

Wrote up my lil egg on qblrsmp, Tonmy's nightmares >:D

they have such a normal relationship with death and blame and everything mhm mhm

CW: blood, gore, severe injury, death, corpses

"no love, however brief, is wasted."

Tonmy's eyes hurt. Their world blurs from their brain as it pounds against their skull. Their body ached and a new scar begged to be scratched as Dendi showed them to bed. Soft. Warm. Wouldn't hurt.

"Goodnight Dad Dendi. I love you."

They shoot up, wide awake. The room is empty. Did- Did Dendi leave? He did have his own house so Tonmy supposed it made sense.. But at the same time they missed the warmth. They crawl out of bed, the sun low in the sky and casting a red glow over the room. The parent facts are gone from the wall again.. He'd have to repin all the posters up. It'd be okay.

Heading down the stairs, they're thinking about sorting out their backpacks, collecting up all their gifts into one bag, when they realise he has nothing. No backpacks, no armour, no hat. That's not good. But it'd be fine. They'd just get all of it back, ask around for free stuff, maybe steal from people again. Look cute and small and get any kind of weapon he wanted brand new.

Now they're at the chests outside Prism's house. There's a shape in the distance, bright pink and stumbling on a hurt leg. Dendi?

It is Dendi, they can see him clearly bleeding as they sprint over, his eyes glazed and staring directly forwards. Dendi? Dendi? Are you okay? Tonmy tried to say but they couldn't place down a sign. Why wasn't it working?

Dendi collapsed and Tonmy tried to hug them, anything to tell Dendi they were here, but- Dendi just kept staring straight ahead, eyes blank. Could he not see them? Tonmy jumped into his line of vision. His eyes didn't even move, didn't light up and split his face into a big grin, his voice didn't say, "That's my son!!"

Tonmy was invisible, that had to be it. Somehow they'd taken an invisibility potion, someone must've fed it to them and maybe that's why they'd woken up. So it'd be fine, he just had to find milk to clear the potion's effects.

Dendi screamed then. Tonmy whipped back around to see Dendi's blood staining the sand around his body, spilling from a knife plunged deep into his chest. DENDI?? They tried to get the knife out, tugged and tugged but it wouldn't budge and all they could hear was Dendi's pained sobs, all they could see was blood that seemed to cover everything around the two of them and there was so much it was too much-

A black and white shape in the corner of their vision. It was watching as Dendi bled, another knife held lightly in its paw. Mockingly. Tonmy locked eyes with the white fox and it gazed back, its eyes blank and hollow. Then it was gone.

Tonmy shot awake, again.

They were at their birthday party in the rose field, wrapped up in their sleeping bag. Had he collapsed just like Prism had done that day? What day even was it? Hadn't they just been- Dendi's body, bleeding out on the beach, knife through his chest -Had it just been a dream? A nightmare. They'd passed out during their party and everyone had left just like Prism had that day and that didn't even make sense but it'd be fine!! It was fine.

They were alone in the field, opened gifts surrounding them, half eaten food still on the table. The smell of apple pie mixed with roses, and Tonmy decided that if everyone was just gonna leave both them and it here they should at least eat some! He walked over, picking up a knife- no knife in their backpack, backpacks empty, it's all gone again- from the table, and cutting a slice. The knife scraped against the crust of the pie, a screeching sound like metal on stone. Had it been long enough for the food to be this hard? They supposed they'd try it anyway, at least to relish the taste of apples, sweet and tart.

All they tasted was dirt and cold rock against their teeth, their mouth was full of stones. Tonmy looked down and Izzy was lying against them, its hand in Tonmy's mouth. They spat its hand out, Izzy??

It was crying, hand now clasped tightly against its chest. Izzy, Tonmy tried again, he tried to place a sign, to tell Izzy that were so sorry, but they couldn't. It must've hurt so much. A finger was missing from its hand as Tonmy felt more rocks in their mouth, and they lurched forward, hacking up the pieces of Izzy's body.

Tonmy dropped to the floor and curled up next to Izzy, desperately trying to get its attention as it seemed to break apart, the stump of its finger chipping away. Its hand cracked into bigger rocks, and the crack continued across its arm into its body, rupturing into huge chunks of a chest and shoulders. Tonmy grabbed the pieces and tried to fit them back together but each stone they picked up crumbled into useless ash. Izzy was screaming now, the fracture pushing through its face and eyes, splitting its skull in half.

Then there was silence. Long, and cold.

Tonmy started sobbing. He'd just killed Izzy, Parent Izzy, and every piece of it they tried to put back just fell apart and it was already too late.

They felt eyes boring into their back, and their head snapped around to see the white fox through the haze of their tears. They screamed and it disappeared.

Tonmy shot awake, again.

They were in their bed in the fallout bunker. Had they ever slept here before? He didn't think he had, but maybe- maybe there had been an attack and they'd actually listened to be safe for once and had stayed here to wait it out. That had to be it. Izzy's crumbling body lay against them- It's fine. And if it wasn't okay, then it would be. Obviously.

Was Val here? If they'd been sleeping in the bunker Val was probably nearby talking to some of their other kids. Tonmy pulled out their warp- trying so hard to ignore that the warp was the only thing in their backpack- and went up to ValKia, Val's house.

There he was, standing in front of the storage shed, where the waystone used to be. Tonmy remember she'd moved it, and they still get confused and forget to warp to the new one inside the actual storage room now. But there they were, just standing. Waiting?

Tonmy ran up, waving to them, trying to get his attention. Val? They still couldn't place signs. It was getting frustrating, not being able to speak, and they waved all the more aggressively, only to notice Val's eyes were blank. Blank and staring off into the distance. Was Tonmy invisible again? And he still didn't have anything to clear the effect, dammit. They grabbed his hand, it was cold, and glowing his usual bright rainbow.

Val's body shifted and crunched in on itself. Tonmy's hand dropped from theirs as his hands shot up to the nightmare stalker skull covering his face, grabbing at a sword sticking out of one of the eye sockets. Val??

Blood slowly dripped down the white of bone as Val's handed clawed for the handle of the sword. Tonmy grabbed him again, tugging him to the ground and reaching for the hilt. They yanked it out of Val's face with a strong pull and a loud noise of ripped flesh. It was coated in blood. Tonmy wiped it hurriedly on the grass surrounding them before reaching over to hug Val. His breathing was hurried and erratic, like his chest was straining for each push of air her lungs released. Tonmy looked up, to see one of Val's eyes was still glassy and distant, the other closed and trailing blood down their face.

That eyelid abruptly shot open, and Val looked directly at Tonmy with a fleshy hole where their eye should be, one of his hands reaching up to Tonmy's face, leaving a bloody handprint behind.

He collapsed.

Tonmy stared. And sobbed, again. They'd gotten another parent killed, again. Tears washed the blood from their face, tracing line after line.

Hollowed eyes were watching them again too. They could feel its unending gaze relentless on the back of his head. LEAVE, they screamed.

Tonmy woke with a start. Again?

They were in Berry's house, in their sleeping bag on the floor of their future room. Was Berry here? They couldn't kill him too, their parents were all dropping dead around him and it was because of them and- They'd woken up. Maybe each one wasn't even real? These nightmares felt real.

Berry's voice echoed through the house, Tonmy, he called. He appeared in the doorway, cloudy eyes sweeping over Tonmy's form in the sleeping bag. Xey couldn't see them, and they couldn't speak to him and-

All Tonmy could think was how scared they were for what was about to happen.

An axe appeared in the air next to Berry. It drew back, gathering power, and Tonmy reached out just as it swung, cutting cleanly through Berry's neck.

His head went flying, landing in Tonmy's outstretched hands. A substance darker than blood slowly oozed from Berry's neck, staining the bag crumpled around them. The head felt enormously heavy, the weight of Berry making their hands tremble, but they couldn't drop him. What if he splintered just like Izzy? They broke, and started crying. Again.

They felt Berry's face move, and met his eyes, the same dark black they'd always been. No longer glassy- could he see Tonmy? His mouth moved too, into a small soft smile. Berry-

Then his head dissolved. Tonmy watched as Berry turned to ash in their hands, leaving nothing behind but dust particles settling on the blanket. They tried to gather the dust up, move what was left into a small pile, but those particles seemed to leave too until there was a small pile of nothing. Nothing left.

Eyes stared at them. The fox was back, its broken black and white mouth holding an axe coated in darkness.

YOU- If only they had a weapon-

Again, Tonmy woke with a start.

Again, again, again, AGAIN.

They were on the tiled floor of an ancient city. It was empty, but candles lit up a small path. This was where they'd graduated dark apprenticeship. Did they pass out right next to the waystone? Tonmy laughed, hollow and careless. Maybe 3 nightmares ago they could've convinced himself to believe that. Nothing was real. They knew that now. So then-

Popcorn appeared further ahead, standing next to the pool of blood Tonmy had thrown their dark creature into that day. They tried to turn around, to run, knowing that if they went with Popcorn he'd die too, just like everyone else.

Dendi's body, bleeding out in their arms.

Izzy's body, broken into chunks of lifeless rock.

Val's body, blood stained and collapsed.

Berry's head, and his ashes disappearing on the breeze.

But they couldn't. He couldn't even turn around. Tonmy felt themselves being pushed forward, following Popcorn like the obedient dark apprentice they were supposed to be. They think Popcorn would want them to run, if this was real.

At the fountain, Popcorn's eyes were glazed and blank, skirting over Tonmy like there was no-one there. It was all the same. Sorry Popcorn.

Popcorn called for them, again and again, Tonmy, Tonmy? Where did you go? Tonmy began to cry. It was useless.

Their sobs amplified when Popcorn suddenly slipped, falling into the pool of blood, the blue of his hoodie bright against the desaturated pink of the ritual blood. His scream echoed through the depths of the ancient city, gargling and muffled, throat filling with blood as he sunk to the bottom.

He thrashed and flailed in panic and Tonmy started to feel scared that this might actually be real and oh god they'd just killed Popcorn. They reached out and tried to grab one of his floundering hands when the blood itself started to scream. That was normal, it did that when the world was real, and Tonmy's heart sank as Popcorn stilled. This might've been real. Now Popcorn was dead. They had tried to help but he'd been too slow.

Then- the feeling of being watched washed over them. The white fox was here, and now it was laughing at their pain.

They had a weapon this time- had they even remembered to check if their backpack was empty or not? -and swung their scythe out, barely scraping the fox before the world went dark.

Tonmy awoke. In their sleeping bag again. Again..

Was this real?

They were in a forest, at the aptly named Tonmy and Prism Campsite. The tall redwood trees blocked off the sky and the darkness of night felt suffocating. There were no stars to see. A fire crackled just outside of their vision, smoke blowing past him. Something was cooking too, he could smell the taste of sweet meat and a fruity sauce. Mango maybe? It was his favourite. His sleeping bag was warm, and maybe he didn't want to get up. Maybe they didn't want to know if anyone was here or not so no one else would get hurt. But they did anyway. Maybe they'd just come out here with Prism and he didn't remember but Prism had tucked him in to sleep here? And left- there was no sign of him. Tonmy was alone.

Their backpack was empty again, though. And the sign denoting this as their campsite was gone. The pot that was cooking was cold despite being hung over an open flame. So it wasn't real.

Sitting in one of the two nearby chairs, Tonmy began to think. Was this like a nightmare loop? How could they wake themselves up if it was? And if they didn't wake up any time soon would it just keep going? How many more people was he going to get killed before he could get out?

Then a voice. Oh no..

Prism's voice called out to them, explaining that he'd passed out again but he was still here, and, where was Tonmy?

Tonmy stared as Prism rounded the corner of the tree next to the camp, and met their eyes. Prism's eyes looked- fine? They lit up when he saw Tonmy and he came running over, arms open wide.

"Tonmy! You're still here!"

But- but their backpack was empty-

"I'm sorry, I passed out again when I went to get some more toast for breakfast."

That didn't make sense, it was the dead of night-

"Tonmy?" Tonmy blinked and Prism was looking at them, confused and slightly worried. They shook their head and tried to place a sign, expecting to not be able to but... it worked? What was happening?? Was this real?

'But uhhh What were we doing here again?'

'Oh!! Im okay :D'

"Did you forget from sleeping in so much?" Prism teased. Tonmy nodded in agreement. Maybe that's what had happened? They don't know but it'd be fine. It would always be fine.

"We were here to camp again! You wanted to cook a grilled meal like real campers, and sleep here overnight, so that's what we did!" Prism sounded so happy. Tonmy hoped this was real.

'OHHH right, ofc'

'But now what :0?'

Prism laughed. "Breakfast time!"

Oh right, he'd said that already.

"Here's some buttered toast, Tonmy, I tried making mango jam for you, but discovered that isn't an item- which is probably why it took me so long to get back here." Prism laughed awkwardly, placing some toast on a plate in front of Tonmy before sitting across from them.

'OH DJSJSJ'

'Thank you Parent Prism :D'

'Thank you for doing this for me!!!'

"Of course Tonmy!! I'd do anything for you, you know that. Rule 2 and all." Of course..

Tonmy took a bite of the toast. It tasted like nothing, like they hadn't eaten any at all. That's not good. They looked up at Prism, and their eyes are starting to glaze over. No- nononono.

He looked back at Tonmy and smiled, starting to say something but the words don't even make it out of his throat as he starts to cough.

Tonmy jumped up and ran over to Prism, begging, pleading for this to be fine. To be nothing. An unremarkable moment in what should be a good long day. They punch at Prism's back, trying to remember if this is how you help when someone's choking.

Prism went silent. No longer coughing, but as Tonmy turned to look at his face, the sound of glass cracking filled the forest. Sharp and brittle. The split spread from Prism's eye down to his mouth and their face smashed open, spewing blood in a sudden waterfall of deep red.

Tonmy screamed, washed away in the river of blood, their mouth full of the taste of metal.

Prism's body folded into itself, spider webbing cracks spreading from the source on their face to cover his entire form. And then that too split open, sending another even larger wave of blood across the campsite and washing over Tonmy as they tried to get back to Prism.

They'd killed someone else. Again. Had this been real? They don't know and they hope it wasn't and all they can feel now is the rush of blood, ice cold against their skin, and the persistent feeling of being watched-

It was back. Tonmy pulled their scythe out again and hit it, slicing through its black and white body. Watching as the scythe cut but the fox bent with it, like the weapon was cutting through solid rubber and only made it halfway.

Tonmy screamed, again and again and again and-

Awoke.

Again.

This time they were outside Lilou's tower, crumbling just like how they'd seen it last. It was empty, Goodnight was gone, but this place had been empty for awhile now.

But Tonmy couldn't make excuses. This wasn't real, and they picked up their sleeping bag, marching off towards the village. At least they could walk this time- Popcorn's drowning gargles filled their ears -they thought, as they made it over to the townhouse. Lilou was there. Standing outside the front door, staring off into the distance. Oh no.

Sorry Lilou.

They turned around, and their eyes were cloudy and blank. Like all the others. Tonmy watched as Lilou reached forwards and emptied a cage in front of the two of them. A corpse fish. Lilou?

It sank its teeth into Lilou's side, gripping tight to their tiny body before pulling. Lilou sobbed and cried as it began to pull them away, somehow swimming over solid ground. Faster and faster, until it and Lilou were gone.

Oh. Lilou's gone again.

Tonmy wondered if that was how it had happened when Lilou disappeared from the swamp the two of them had lived in. They don't really remember.

Was the fox here now? They couldn't feel its unending stare. Was he finally going to wake up?

They looked down, and saw they were standing on a body, its face to the stone of the path. Tonmy leaped back in surprise, only to land on another body, with the face and clothes of Sunny. Sunny?? Was Sunny dead now too? With all the others?

And there were more bodies. Corpses coated the entire length of the path, all the way to the fountain they'd spent hours struggling over building in the distance. Some had faces, the faces of friends, Luvi, Pip, Glitch, Oz, Dot, Kasper, Goose, Honey, Meeps, Ladel, Angel, Vwoomp... and some didn't have faces, the identifying features of their long dead bodies ripped from them, and more still were face down and unrecognizable in their gore.

Were these all the people they had killed...

Tonmy screamed.

#qblrsmp #qblrsmp writing #gemsfics #oc #oc writing #tonmy lore drop fr

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