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risuola · 1 day

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F. READER X SUKUNA RYOMEN // After Sukuna finally got a human body, his power was taken away and sealed within you.

cw: Sukuna is separated from Yuji and has his own body (not the heian form tho!), smut, mentions of hurt and violence, some blood and execution mentioned, reader discretion is advised — 7,3k words

a/n: ok so i've been meaning to finish this wip for so long and as i opened the file i realized i don't like the way it's written and i rewrote all 11 pages in word and now it's hopefully finished so... enjoy the usual — hurt, comfort, angst-fluff dynamics and emotional constipation ♡

“What do you want, curse?”

A long, deep sigh escaped your lungs as you reached for a towel to dry your body off. As you stepped out of a shower, last thing you expected to see was the King of Curses himself leaning nonchalantly against the tiled wall of your bathroom, eyeing you with the wicked smile on his face. How on brand. You didn’t expect him but saying that his sudden presence surprised you would be an overstatement. You learned to expect him anytime.

“Don’t ask silly questions,” he scoffed, narrowing his eyes that in the sharp lights of your ceiling lamp glistened in blood-red. All four of them were fixed on your damp frame, on your exhausted body. It wasn’t the best day to mess with him. Not that any other day was better to deal with the most cursed curse of all curses that ever existed — this one though was particularly inconvenient.

It wasn’t longer than maybe an hour since you got home, returning from a mission that Gojo had given you, entrusting your power to rid the world of a group of curses. They were exceptionally violent, first to special grade with no doubt and you did, in fact, manage to exorcise them all, but not without your body getting painfully battered.

“You know I cannot grant your wish, don’t you? I wouldn’t give you your powers even if the world was on fire and you were the last available option to save it.”

He scoffed, again, and smirked like the pure evil that he is. You approached slowly, reaching for the robe hanging beside him, hopeful to get this conversation over sooner rather than later, but before your fingers even had a chance of grasping the soft, silky fabric of the gown, Sukuna snatched your wrist. His long, calloused fingers wrapped tightly around your forearm and he twisted it, tugging and pulling, until your back hit the wall.

Trapped between the cold tiles and his muscular frame, you winced at the sudden wave of pain that struck your body. Your reaction time lacked as in matter of split seconds both of your wrists were pinned above your head, bound by only one of his large hands and you were helpless. So devastatingly, utterly helpless against the sheer force in front of you. Your bones were fragile as twigs in his iron grip, so easy to bend and break under the pressure of the power he held and you knew it from practice that he could and he would break them if he wished to do so.

“That little mouth of yours is gonna get you in big trouble one day,” he said, a sound as low as a purr, and a grin spread across his face, as he lowered his head enough to meet your eyes. His gaze, tinged with crimson and madness, pierced your soul and if you didn’t know better, you’d say your prayers right now because the face in front of you was a face of slow and cruel death.

“I bet I can manage the trouble that is you. I appreciate the care,” you were calm, sounded calm, despite the rushing rumble of your heart against the ribcage in your chest. You were nonchalant, ignorant even, most likely very naïve and dumb, but you knew that what would be a certain demise to anyone else, for you it just wasn’t.

Born into a family of ordinary people, you were different. Gifted with the sight that allowed you to notice what was invisible to the eyes of others — the spirits. Curses. The ability formed your life, led you onto a path which eventually crossed with the man you only heard legends about. Satoru Gojo had taken you under his wing, showed you the world of jujutsu and allowed you to be yourself when everyone else wanted you to just act normal. But you were a special one. You were gifted, no, you were heavily and deeply tainted with something you couldn’t understand. Something even he couldn’t understand. There was no rank for you. No label that could be tied to your name. You were just different, with the exceptional physical fitness and peculiar, precise control over the cursed energy, you easily passed all of the tests and challenges. But your powers are dark. They are heavy, suffocating, they made other people fear you despite the kindness that showed through your warm personality.

“I hate it when you talk down to me,” Sukuna growled. His low voice died down when he slowly pressed his lips to yours, greedily taking your breath away as his hand swiftly removed the towel from your body. A shiver ran down your spine, the sudden contact with the cold ceramics behind you made you jolt forward, involuntarily pressing your body against the wall of muscle. Ryomen’s clothed torso provided more comfort than the bone-chilling tiles. You felt him smirk against your mouth.

When Sukuna separated from Itadori’s body, materializing in his own form and threatening the entire universe with his existence and unsatiable thirst for blood and destruction, Satoru, along with some other people that you didn’t know, acted immediately. It was a sacrifice to pick you for the new vessel, it was a decision made in a rush and you’d have to think twice before agreeing to it again if you ever had a chance. Your technique allowed you to store someone else’s cursed energy so it was an easy choice for everyone involved.

The King of Curses got stripped of most of his power when he was barely awakened in his own body, and said power was then transferred to yours. Sealed inside your fragile human frame, nearly destroying you from inside out with the initial shock wave. Since that day you had to learn and accept to live with constant pain, the never-ending suffering, because locking away Sukuna’s evil was much more important than your well-being.

You were told that it’s different than what Itadori was to the king. The curse created a space for itself inside Yuji’s soul, keeping his own powers contained to only himself and you — you had his cursed energy constantly, unstoppably racing through your body, poisoning your veins with every pump of your heart and it hurt. It burned like a hellfire was spreading throughout your circulatory system and since that day, your life had become a curse itself. Your sleep has gotten worse, you were tired and for the first few weeks you were barely able to move. It felt like the cells were tearing themselves apart inside you, like everything was in a state of never-ending volcanic eruption. It was agonizing, torturous. You felt like dying. Every day. Luckily, Ieiri was able to develop a medicine that taken every day, calmed everything down enough to make it bearable.

You got used to it, as the year passed by, but what you also had to get used to, was the owner. Ryomen Sukuna visited you so often that he partially lived in your apartment, patiently torturing you with his presence until you gave him what he was rightfully entitled to. He didn’t even consider covering a part of your rent, asshole. He couldn’t kill you — your death would take all of his powers down to your grave with you — but it didn’t stop him from trying his luck with everything that wasn’t enough to take your life.

You remember the first attempts, the first showcases of his annoyance. It was a shame, it was pathetic to Sukuna and he felt humiliated to get caught in such a simple trick, to allow himself to not have his guard up from the very first breath he took once he separated from the brat. All of that pent up anger, he threw on you and the many trials of violence and brutality had taught him that your tolerance for pain was high. And you fought back. Over time, and after many weeks you spent inside the hospital bed underneath the precise care of Shoko, Sukuna had realized that no amount of beating and torture will force you into obedience — as annoying as the realization was — so he changed his ways and switched to haunting you. Taunting you with his constant presence. Able to enter your apartment at any given moment, the curse made sure you were never too comfortable in your own home. You grew to live with that too.

“Hurts?” Sukuna grinned, watching the wince that twisted your otherwise attractive features the very moment his fingers dug into your side. With sadistic pleasure he studied the way your brows creased and your eyes fell shut. The rumble of your heart was evident in the silence of the bathroom and even more evident were the very palpable fractures of your ribs underneath his palms. “Want me to stop?” He mused, griping the injury tighter and the cruel wave of pain almost knocked the air out of your lungs.

“You are charming as always, curse,” you scoffed, forcing some oxygen into your system and cussing yourself internally for showing the pain, for giving him the clearest indication of your weakened state. For giving him something to use against you. “It hurts, yes. I’ve had a rough day, I’d like to rest.”

“Then I will take you to bed,” he let go of both your hands and ribs, scooping you up and carrying you towards the bedroom. Your bare body seemed tiny against the tall, muscular built of him. Too fragile to be so stubborn and blame it on said fragility, but Sukuna out of habit put you down onto the plush sheets with gentleness so uncharacteristic of him.

“You know I can’t give you what you want,” you looked at him, your gaze portraying the tiniest sliver of hope that finally he’ll understand and give up, but giving up wasn’t a phrase present in king’s vocabulary. He’d rather die than let go and both of you knew it. “I’m sure you can tell I’m exhausted, but if you make me, I will fight.”

“Oh, don’t be silly, woman,” he grinned, allowing his two pairs of eyes to run down your naked body, silently admiring the petite frame that was capable of holding all of his strength. “I wouldn’t force you to fight when you’re already so beaten. What do you think I am, a monster?”

“Not a monster. You’re a curse, which is worse.” A shrug of your shoulders sent a jolt of pain throughout your body and it took everything from you to not wince in front of him again. You reached for a t-shirt you use to sleep in — a garment stolen from Itadori, big enough to almost be a dress, comfortable cotton that wrapped you with softness and warmth. Sukuna knows your body. He’s seen it naked, touched and tasted it many times and the piercing gaze of all four of his eyes on your skin was something you grew to accept, but you wanted to get dressed anyway. Sukuna was never a gentle lover and your broken ribcage wouldn’t take his roughness too well.

"It sounds so lovely in your mouth," he chuckled, taking the blouse from your hands and tossing it carelessly away. "Who said you can dress up?"

"Who said you can give me orders?"

"Am I not the king?"

"Of curses, yes. I'm not a curse, your jurisdiction does not apply to me."

“Gods, you need to shut up.”

There was only one thing Sukuna grew to enjoy a sliver bit more than torturing you and that was having sex — though he dismayed the thought of such primal pleasures taking over his urges. It felt foreign at first, as if his own body tried to betray him by showing interest in a simple, unworthy human just as you, but he was able to reason it within his own, conflicted mind. Intimacy created a leak. A leak of his own power seeping through you, an unknown weakening of your defenses and Sukuna was able to, quite literally, fuck his powers out of you, absorb it back into his own form, feel more like himself for just a little moment.

Other thing is — and he hated it the most — that he genuinely enjoyed the time in bed with you. It was pleasurable, too pleasurable almost and Ryomen actively dismissed the idea of you stripping him off his cold judgement, the clarity of his thoughts, but he loved it also. Every soft whimper and whisper of his name that ever slipped through your lips made his ego grow, made him want more and although he hated the seal, he admired the shell you wore around your soul and if there was ever anyone he wished to be intimate with, it was you. You held his power in the body he was able to touch, to taste, to have, and over time Sukuna grew to respect it, in his own twisted way. Over hundreds of years he’s been around, he had seen people brave — or stupid — enough to try and contain his power, to ingest one of the cursed objects his soul was fragmented into and then, he watched them die in pain and suffering just from a small fraction of it. You were able to hold it, agony or not.

You, on the other hand, had no clue what exactly was causing the seal to leak, you couldn’t tell why was it happening when he was inside you and not when he was trying to beat the life out of you. Why breaking your bones never let a drop of his energy to slip from under your control and the intimacy made you lose it just like that? You couldn’t tell, but just the fact that Sukuna’s able to regain any amount of his legacy through intercourse should be enough of a reason to never, ever let him touch you, but oh well. Elders didn’t like you anyway and the cursed energy released was so insignificant it wouldn’t really cause much trouble — that’s at least how you reasoned with yourself. Sometimes you wondered if the small boost was even worth all the trouble for the king, but it wasn’t hard to notice he was clearly enjoying just being close to you.

“Oh, do I?” You questioned him; dared, and he took you on a challenge, pressing his lips to yours. You whimpered and pressed your open palms to his clothed chest when he climbed on top of you, hovering above your much smaller frame and allowing his shadow and evil aura to swallow you and you flinched. Your senses, however trained, were always on high alert when he was so close. It was reflexive, a first response that screamed, begged, to get away from him, to run and don’t look back but you had to learn pushing it down. It’s been only few weeks since you managed to fix and patch up the hole his fist once made in one of your walls and putting up a fight right now would certainly damage your apartment yet again. Not to speak about yourself.

“You never know when to shut up,” he purred against your lips and moved, following the edges of your jawline and down your neck, spreading wet bites and marks along your delicate skin there.

“Sukuna, please, not today,” you whimpered, pleading and gasping just slightly, feeling his long, calloused fingers already finding their place between your thighs, teasing the awaiting bud of joy and pleasure that, unlike you, was very excited for the events unraveling.

“Why not?” He asked, letting go the sensitive skin right above your pulse and admiring the reddish, swollen patch he left there. “You’re so wet, I cannot ignore it.” You could feel his grin against your shoulder, hear it in the mocking yet proud tone of his voice because he was proud of himself. He knew how to push your buttons, which ones to push first and how to navigate his lips and fingers across your curves and hollows to make the most out of it because truth is, ever since he got his own human-like body, he was able to appreciate physical pleasures that before that, he couldn’t care less about. “Aren’t you ashamed? A sorcerer, spreading your legs for the king of curses? Moaning my name instead of spells, digging your nails into my skin instead of knives?”

“Aren’t you ashamed? The King of Curses himself, getting so hard and worked up for a simple human?” You replied with a mock underlying in your tone and he laughed.

“Didn’t I already tell you to shut up?”

“You did,” you confirmed, nodding and pulling his blouse up, forcing him to undress and he complied. His covered in black markings skin, stretched over a strong musculature never failed to make you gasp in awe. Sukuna is an attractive man, slightly reminiscing you of Itadori due to him being the last of his hosts, but also completely different. The aura is different, the height and body shape. There’s nothing of Yuji’s kindhearted, warm nature — Ryomen is a menace. His eyes are narrowed, knowing, proud. He’s arrogant, he’s full of himself, he’s spiteful and uncaring and sometimes you wondered how he managed to coexist with the society for a year now, with his temper so cold and obnoxious.

“So behave,” he smirked, pushing your knees apart and slipping two of his thick fingers inside you. He worked them easily through the slick, warm entrance and stretched you with slow movements. A brief attempt of foreplay, careless towards the discomfort his hands managed to cause you, but he loved it — he loved to feel how wet you could get for him, he loved to see you all worked up, blushed and flushed, squirming underneath his very touch. “Behave or it’ll hurt more than necessary.”

“It’s going to hurt anyway, there’s no way around it,” you breathed out, your tone quite blank as you tried to brace yourself to feel every broken bone in your ribcage. Truth is that breathing was causing you problems and you were actively pushing the petrifying thought of rough sex deep down your thoughts. “I’m not good at behaving.”

“Hard to disagree,” the curse chuckled, running the tip of his tongue along the length of your neck and it took him a second to replace his soaked-up digits with his rock-hard member. Low, animalistic and gravelly purr escaped his throat, as his length got into the tight embrace of muscles inside you. A velvety warmth mixed with sharp, stinging feeling of your nails digging into the skin of his back made his mind go blank for a moment. You run your fingers across his body, adding new marks to the constellation of his own and he took in the way your breath hitched in your chest, the soft thud of your heart that he felt underneath his lips as he kissed your neck, nipping and sucking spots onto the otherwise clean surface. Hot waves of euphoria rushed through him, adrenaline pumped inside his veins and were it not for your injuries, he would be pounding into you relentlessly by now, pushing you above and beyond your limits, mercilessly taking your breath away time after time, watching your eyes roll to the back of your head and basking in the exhilarating feeling of you taking him in. If not for the bones that he so clearly can feel beneath his fingertips, the fractures sharp against your skin over your ribcage, he would be relentlessly rushing towards orgasm and ecstasy. This time, he refrained. This time, he decided to be curious, to see how the softness you always tell him about tastes on his own tongue.

Sukuna’s movements were slow, odd but deep and heavy. Every nerve, every sensitive spot in your entire body was hit and abused again and again and again. His lips kept gluing themselves to your mouth, your neck, shoulders. He was kissing your chest, nipping at your skin, making you heave, and moan, and whimper. He was taking you all in, observing, listening, savoring and it didn’t take long for the heat to pool below your stomach. A coil of tight pleasure, a knot begging to snap open and undo itself. The man was all over you, his hips worked in a rhythmical melody that’s got you lose your focus, your train of thoughts. It cleared your mind — a blank space that now was filled only with him and the intense, addicting way his hips moved.

You trembled.

Your thighs were shaking, your breath cut short.

You’ve had your fair share of intercourses with the King of Curses — each of them pleasurable in its own way. He has his ways of exhausting you, of pushing your limits, overstimulating you. He experimented, dominated and forced you into submission one way or another. Sukuna is no stranger to pain and violence and throughout the year you’ve got to know all colors of his palette but nothing, not once, resembled the tenderness he showed you this time.

“Suku–ahh—” you panted, cried out, gripping his biceps tightly.

“That’s right, let it out,” he grinned, demanded and moved his hips with more precision, just a little more force to hit that one spot he knew does it for you and it stole a breath from you. Your back arched, despite the broken bones, your head went blank as the groundbreaking wave of pleasure washed over you. The tight ring of muscles kept squeezing and contracting and Sukuna groaned along with you. He was leaking, his balls heavy and aching for release that he forcefully postponed, greedy to take more from you before he gives you any of his.

He pulled out, almost completely — a false promise of a breather — and then pushed back, fully, completely. His body moves more frantically, more rushed and yet, the compassion rushed in his veins, stripping the thrusts off their usual violence.

Odd. Addicting.

The first bliss was soon followed by two more and your third climax was his first. He became sloppier, hurried as he chased the sweet, sweet release and you tangled your fingers into his soft, blush-colored hair pulling him in and kissing his breath away. You couldn’t focus and nether could he. Nothing but the immense pleasure of the act, nothing before and nothing after, just here and now. Your body and his, in your apartment, in your bed. And when he came, he drew blood from your lower lip, catching it between his sharp fangs.

You let out a shaky breath, way more tired than before and yet, you smiled softly when Sukuna collapsed onto the bed beside you — the last bits of reason that made him shift his body to the side so that he wouldn’t put his weight on top of your fragile frame. He had this infuriating and oddly attractive smirk plastered onto his face and you knew he’s listening — to your calming breath and the harsh thuds of your heartbeat rumbling inside your chest.

Sukuna felt content. Utterly and completely satisfied and what’s got him surprised, he also felt his cells swell with power. The amount that leaked, due to unknown reasons, was incomparable to what he’s ever been able to absorb before. He couldn’t tell if it was your exhaustion, the wounds and damage your body was covered with or just the way he took you this time, but he knew for a fact that there was more. He also noticed that this time, unlike any other, he was completely abandoning the idea of cursed energy. It’s as if it entered his body on its own, without him actively taking it in, all while he was completely lost in the moments of pleasure, lost in you.

A grin on his face only got bigger, the feeling of might overwhelming him for a moment. He wanted to laugh, to scream, to destroy and kill. To feel like his old, superior self, to force his way through other people’s suffering. It felt ecstatic, to have a part of himself back, to feel the strength surging through him and—

—that’s until he looked at you again and he realized there was a scent of blood in the air. A metallic hint of something that was very wrong with you, something that he never thought he would miss since he loved to be surrounded by blood. But you were quiet about it. Breathing fast, with a hand pressed to your side and your eyebrows furrowed — a clear giveaway of the pain that slowly returned to you once the euphoric aftershocks wore off.

“You’re bleeding, huh?” He more so stated than asked, gathering himself up and gently, carefully slipping one of his arms underneath your knees and the other around your back. Once he lifted your worn off body, not without a quiet wince slipping from your mouth, the red, vibrant stain revealed itself from where you were resting. “That wound was there before, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, it was,” you replied, weakly, leaning the side of your head towards his flexing bicep and clenching your fingers around your fractured mid-section.

The shower, hot and steamy, wasn’t the most pleasant of all, but it did wonders to wash away the sticky residues from your thighs and the blood and sweat that mixed atop of your skin. Sukuna’s large hand pressed itself onto the wound, forcing it to stop bleeding — trying, at least.

“Why didn’t you heal it?”

“I didn’t have enough power to do so. I just barely managed to close it, and—” You trailed off, feeling dizzy. It was getting to you, ridding you of basic abilities to communicate and the king caught up immediately.

Water got turned off and he dried you quickly, superficially. You felt the towel being run over your limbs and pressed around your torso where the most damage was. Then he wrapped a bandage around you, tight and precise, hopeful to get the bleeding in control before he took you back under the sheets — with clean underwear on and after he flash-changed the sheets into clean ones.

Your battery was so low, you felt like you’re gonna pass out any moment.

“It was amazing,” you told him, once his weight dented the mattress and his body heat reached your cold skin. Usually, you wouldn’t feed into his ego, it was already way too big and swollen, but you figured he deserved to hear a praise after he restrained himself from fucking you to death.

“Rest,” he ordered, harsh and dry but he couldn’t hide the little smirk that tugged on the corner of his mouth. He acted like he didn’t care of what you just said, but he did, and he’ll remember it.

With hopes that sleep will solve your health issues, Sukuna watched as you drifted away and with deep dismay he noticed that the white bandages that hug your torso were slowly and steadily turning red. Your face was in a constant frown, you were visibly in pain and getting feverish, if he wasn’t mistaken, and he cursed his own self for caring about such things. You were a strong woman — despite all of his insults and cruel words he had told you during the past year — and he had never, not once, saw you in such a pathetic, vulnerable state but then, maybe if he stayed with you more often instead of leaving the moment he was done fucking his powers out of you, he would know better. Even so, you never complained and Sukuna isn’t stupid, he knows how much trouble his cursed energy causes you, how much pain and everyday agony you have to push through and yet, he never heard you whine about it.

King’s hands moved on their own, and when they touched your cold body, the healing process began. He watched the dark bruise around your ribcage fade into nothing and observed how the fractured bones underneath the skin moved and shifted into their original places. The blood stopped soaking the bandages and once rid of them, Ryomen watched how your skin knitted back together, leaving nothing but a pale, pinkish scar. Every last bit of his power he put into the reverse cursed technique to repair as much damage as he could. Then, with his arm around your waist, he fell asleep next to you.

* * *

Waking up to a man in your bed wasn’t exactly something you’re used to — even if said man is Ryomen Sukuna who’s an often guest between your sheets. He never stays because he never cares enough to stay, not to mention staying in a tight embrace. You found yourself snuggled close to his side, your head resting on his muscular chest while his arm was wrapped around you, making sure you’re not going anywhere. His hand was resting exactly where the pain should be and with shock you realized there’s nothing — no hurt, no bandages that you have a dull memory of being wrapped in.

You didn’t heal yourself. You were too tired.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Sukuna’s voice stopped you, when you made an attempt to pull yourself away from him. He sounded lower than usual, raspier and unsettlingly not evil.

“Why are you still here?” You asked, running your hand over the bumps of muscles on his abdomen. “I’m so confused. I’m not togging to complaint though.”

“You’d try, silly woman,” he grunted, amused and squeezed your side more securely. “What the hell did you do to me, huh?”

“I don’t know, but I appreciate the healing,” you teased.

“Don’t ever talk about it.”

Laughing, you forced a groan of annoyance out of him — the kind of groan that let you know you're treading on thin ice and one thoughtless move could break it, one word not thought through enough could make you fall into the pit of cold and ice.

"What, you want me to forget that the King of Curses used his hard-earned power to heal a mere sorcerer? Not a chance."

"If that mere sorcerer bleeds to death, my power will be gone as well. I had a reason for it."

"If you say so, Sukuna," still amused, you pulled away from his embrace and got up from the bed, nearly dodging a slap he aimed at your ass.

That morning, you had breakfast with the King of Curses, bringing this wonderful adventure with him to an unexpected end. Afterwards, he kissed your breath away and left you confused as ever.

Several weeks had passed until Ryomen once again entered your field of view. Unfortunate.

You had a day off, enjoying it in a café with your friends, seeping carelessly on a latte with the almond milk and a dash of honey. It was a beautiful day, warm too, and you thought nothing would mess this up but life proved you wrong when the curse stormed in, steaming with rage and madness and — call it intuition — it was a dead giveaway of why he showed up.

“Such a great day, huhhh–“ you wailed quietly, lifting your cup from the table before his fist broke the wood in half. It wasn’t hard to notice how absolutely furious he was and it made you both curious and alarmed.

“Give. Me. Something.” The man growled lowly, frustrated and outraged and you couldn’t recall any time you ever saw him that infuriated.

“I can’t, you kno–“ you tried to tell him, but before you even got the full sentence out, he already had his fingers wrapped around your neck. A sharp sound of glass shattering accompanied the quiet yelp you let out as he yanked you up and slammed your back onto the nearest wall. You felt your feet losing their contact with the ground.

“Give me something.” He repeated, his voice so low and menacing that it sent shivers down your spine. It felt as if you were speaking with death. He was so close, you felt his uneven breath on your face, the crimson of his eyes seemed to glow. “Give me something or I’ll fuck you right here and now to get it.”

The rage in his eyes, the absolute storm of bloodlust, you wondered what has gotten him so worked up. King of Curses had a short temper, yes. He was often annoyed, angry, of course, but such fury wasn’t typical to his character and you knew that if you refuse right now, he will surely go through with the threat he made and you wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. You’ll just get hurt.

“Put me down,” you tried, speaking calmly and wrapping your fingers around his forearm, hoping to give him a hint before your windpipe was fully crushed. Your heart was racing inside your chest, you heard the pulse in your ears, felt it in your head and neck. Fear wasn’t the most familiar feeling for you — you’ve grown accustomed to Sukuna’s violence, his tantrums and threats, his forceful ways of getting what he wanted and you also got to know him enough to know this kind of rage wasn’t caused by someone stepping on his toe or taking the last package of his favorite snack. This wasn’t caused by someone looking at him from the wrong angle. This was pure. Primal. “What happened?”

“Give me my power,” he said again, terrifyingly calm and he lowered you down so that your feet reached the floor again, but instead of letting go of your throat, he squeezed it even tighter, pressing his entire body against you. “I’m asking for the last time.”

Everyone present in the café — those who didn’t turn tail the second Sukuna raged inside — were too stunned to react, too petrified to intervene and you couldn’t blame them. The King of Curses, even stripped of most of his cursed energy, was still a threat not to be ignored. Still a menace, a mischievous demonic creature feared by curses, sorcerers and now also regular people that had a misfortune to meet him. The very sound of his name made all of them tremble in terror. You didn’t expect anyone to help you.

“I can’t breathe,” you struggled the words out, whispering on top of the very limited air that flew barely between your upper and lower parts of the respiratory systems. Sukuna growled but loosened the death grip he had on your neck, allowing the oxygen once again into your lungs. Then, you made a mistake. Then, you decided to trust him. “I hope you remember that I will be executed for this. Make it worth it.”

* * *

Later that day, deep into the night you woke up to a sudden slam of the doors. The very familiar, dark aura filled in your otherwise calm apartment and it took no effort to realize who just invaded your space. There were only two people brave enough to enter your home so recklessly and it wasn’t hard to tell them apart.

“Stay in bed,” Sukuna said once you pulled yourself up from the pillows and the mattress and he headed straight into your bathroom. “I need to wash up.”

You exhaled and lay back down, taking in the soft, monotone sound of the shower. You couldn’t tell why he was there, why did he come to your place and act like he owns it but frankly, you couldn’t care less right now about how he behaved. It somehow put you at ease that he decided to show up after what happened before. After what led you to face consequences you wished you wouldn’t have to face.

Few slurs broke up the hushed hum of water and soon it became quiet. Ryomen showed up in your bedroom just few moments after — partially dried, fully naked, with the black markings that adorned his pale skin on full display. Your eyes run down his silhouette, taking in the view no one else had a chance to experience and you let out an exhale. The man ruffled his hair with a towel, an attempt of making it less dripping, and casually slipped under the covers next to you, as if it was his place all along. You spared him the comments about how comfortable he had suddenly become within the confines of your apartment and waited patiently to hear whatever he had to say.

“There was a special curse user earlier,” he began nonchalantly, as he settled against the pillows, supporting his head with both of his arms crossed below it. “He was after you, wanted to suck out everything you have sealed inside.”

“I heard.”

“He wanted to, to quote him, fuck you dry of my power, kill you and make me watch as he became me. That was the plan, to take away the title of king.”

“So, it was about your reputation?” You questioned, letting out a deep sigh and turned away from him. He was quiet for a moment, his eyes piercing a hole through your back.

“Do you think I need to worry about my reputation?” Sukuna growled annoyed and you hummed softly, neither confirming nor denying.

“I guess not.”

You were tired. Exhausted. That was supposed to be your day off, your time to rest and reset but what it turned out to be, was just a disaster. You spent hours arguing with elders of Jujutsu community, trying over and over again to protect yourself, to defend your own life against the accusations that were being thrown at you from every angle and even Gojo couldn’t do much after you willingly released Sukuna’s power from the seal within you. It was bound to happen, you thought you were ready for it ever since it was mentioned for the first time. You were scheduled for execution as it seemed to be safer for the world to kill you, and king’s powers along, than to spare your life and risk it getting out of you, but Satoru then intervened, forcing the date to be postponed. You were high in ranks and he swore you’re capable of keeping the force safe and you did just that for the last twelve months. That’s until you decided to break all the rules and bend to Sukuna’s will.

It wasn’t just that. The cursed user revealed a way to loosen up the lock that held the danger away from the outside world, that he made it known that intimacy was a way to go, your future was decided already. With the knowledge out and about, the elders came to realization that in time there will be more curses or curse users that will come to you to get a taste of that sweet, sweet power and if they won’t do it, Sukuna will. Telling them that the amounts are insignificant didn’t help your case either — those pricks focused more on how you know that rather than what that meant. A diseaster.

“Now what’s wrong, huh? I didn’t kill anybody.”

King threw an arm around your waist, turning his body towards you and supporting his hand on his elbow to see you better. He pulled you into his chest, as if he wished to hide you completely inside his embrace, to protect you from whatever was weighing on your mind and you’d be very surprised if not for the turmoil now raging inside your head.

“My execution has been decided,” you spat out quietly and felt how every muscle in Sukuna’s body tensed significantly. “It’s scheduled for tomorrow night.”

“What execution? I didn’t kill anyone. I got rid of a fucking curse user. I even saved a little brat. Unintentionally, but still.”

“I know, Sukuna, and I am grateful. I really am, but–“

“But what?”

“They found out that sex creates an opening and it just got worse and worse from that moment. They wouldn’t listen and what could I even say to make it sound better. They already figured out that I’m sleeping with you which is enough of a reason to kill me.”

“And what did the jerk in the blindfold say?”

“There’s not much he can do at this point,” you sighed, mindlessly smoothing little circles over the hand that was keeping you close. “From what I know, Gojo stayed in Jujutsu high to discuss it further, but yeah… it’s tough.”

"Should I talk to them?"

"I'm not sure if you insulting or threatening them, could help in any way."

"So what, you expect me to agree to your death?"

"I've thought about it," you said quietly. "God, I'm naive, but I think I'll give you your power back before they execute me. I just hope you don't burn the world to ashes."

"Y/n, for fuck's sake, screw that power. I want you to live. I acted before because that bastard wanted to hurt you. I don't care about my reputation; I don't need to. Sure, it pisses me off that I was robbed of my energy," he babbled, rushing his words. You knew that he wasn't the best at explaining emotions and that he would rather die than admit that he cared for someone. "I need you alive."

"Did the King of Curses perhaps fell..."

"Don't push it," he snapped and you chuckled.

"You two are soooo cute."

Gojo’s voice cut through the tense atmosphere, as he materialized out of nowhere, nearly stopping your heart in the process. Last thing you expected was having him witness you in bed, with your back pressed to the very naked Sukuna and you should’ve seen that coming because you knew Satoru will step by once he’s done negotiating. While you were shocked, the curse didn’t even flinch. “Oh, am I interrupting something?”

"Satoru—" You lifted yourself up on one of your elbow. "Why are you here?"

"I come with good news," a grin spread across Gojo's face. "You will not be executed tomorrow. They took into consideration the fact that Sukuna helped a child and no one was hurt. Well, I forced them to consider it."

"It was an accident," Ryomen muttered in his own defense, but you glared at him, clearly ordering him to shut up. Oddly enough, this time he complied with no remarks.

"Happy little accidents, as they call it," Satoru giggled and spread his arms. "You're safe. Don't mess around too much for a while though. I'm talking to the curse."

Sukuna rolled his eyes, all four, expressing the particular inconvenience of the request, but you knew he'd tone himself down for as long as necessary.

"I can't believe you convinced them for the second time," you fell back into the pillow, relieved.

"What can I say, I have a strong personal charm," Satoru bowed theatrically. "So, are you two together or do you just fuck?"

"We can discuss that some other time, right?"

"Oh yeah, right. Stay safe, kids!" Saying that, Gojo disappeared and none of you even made an attempt to address how he called the thousand years old king a kid.

You let out a deep breath — the one you held for god knows how long — and felt the stress finally taking its toll on you. An exhaustion, sleepiness, anxiety – all of those came crawling at you at once.

"You're so tensed up," Sukuna purred, placing a small kiss on the side of your neck and he wouldn’t say it, but you could tell from the way his body felt against yours, that the tension left him as well. "You can relax now."

"Right," you muttered, sighing and with the encouragement of his hand, you turned to his face and immediately met his lips. He kissed you like a starved man, with a hand on the back of your neck. Murmuring, you surrendered to his touch, allowing yourself to get lost in the feeling of his mouth, to forget about the cruel and cold world around you and to indulge in whatever that was that you had with Sukuna. “We can relax now.”

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loveinhawkins · 1 day

Note

Hi! hope you feel better soon! And hope you get some much needed rest in the meantime! For the one word prompt: post S4 Steddie, “hazy”.

thank you so much & thank you for inspiring a little moment about rest & healing 💕 •one word ficlet prompts

Steve finds that the couch next to Eddie’s hospital bed is ridiculously comfortable.

Eddie’s talking to the nurse—he can’t really catch what’s being said, the world growing warm and hazy—but he can hear that Eddie’s making her laugh. Knows that’s important, something that would’ve been unthinkable not so long ago: that Eddie feels brave enough to let something of himself shine through. That he can still trust in the kindness of certain people, even strangers.

Steve vaguely hears the nurse leave, glances over to see Eddie within touching distance, perched on the side of his bed. He’s folding some T-shirts in preparation for getting discharged—he’d joked when Steve had first arrived that it’s the most organised he’s ever been.

He must’ve washed his hair this morning, left it to air dry: some of the ends are still damp, and it’s gone kinda wispy around his face. It’s a calming sight, leaves Steve grateful that he no longer associates it with the dive into Lover’s Lake; now it’s something softer.

Something safe.

Eddie looks up. Smiles.

“Uh, Steve, with all due respect,” he begins, which makes Steve snort; he’s come to know it as one of Eddie’s sayings, preceding all manner of teasing objections, “what the hell?”

Steve would usually ask, “What now?” in feigned exasperation, unable to hide his amusement—but his head feels suddenly heavy, and all he manages is, “Hmm?”

Eddie’s smile grows, showing his dimples. He reaches over, and he places a hand on Steve’s knee, presses down gently, “Are you, like, training to be a contortionist?”

Steve feels the warmth of the touch through his jeans; he realises then that he’s sitting awkwardly: one knee bent towards his chest; his neck crooked, arms folded; his whole body instinctively angled toward the edge of the couch.

It’s a position he’s perfected over the years, honed in all kinds of makeshift beds—most recently the chairs of hospital waiting rooms, leaving space for one of the kids to rest on his shoulder. Snatching rest wherever he could throughout the nightmare of that Spring Break, never quite relaxing fully: ready to move, to spring into action at a moment’s notice.

He remembers Robin tactfully making sure that the RV was empty while everyone else stayed outside; his side still aching, Steve stretched out on the seat in the back. Even while he was alone, he only managed a fitful doze—nearly fell off his seat as he wrenched himself awake at the slightest disturbance.

He can’t find that urgency now. Hasn’t needed to for…

He must have zoned out for a couple seconds, because Eddie’s standing now. Watching fondly.

“If you’re tired,” Eddie says quietly, “you should sleep.”

And Steve hears the shape of it, that deliberation in how Eddie says certain things, where he slows down just a little—and Steve knows it must be because it’s something Eddie’s once been told by his uncle.

There’s a blanket getting draped across him now. Eddie touches his knee again, and this time Steve relaxes fully, feels himself slowly tilt back. There’s a pillow beneath his head that wasn’t there before.

Eddie smoothes out the blanket with care. Steve’s view is getting dimmer, a drowsy blur of eyelashes.

But he can see that Eddie’s smiling again. Hears him make a soft, jokingly disapproving tsk.

“Close your eyes,” Eddie whispers, with such affection.

Oh, you love me, Steve thinks.

It’s a thought that drifts in, honeyed and slow, like it’s really been there all along—that perhaps before, in the white-knuckled days of survival, he was too afraid for it. Did not have room to feel it.

Steve’s eyes close.

He falls asleep so completely, knowing that Eddie will still be there, that time isn’t running out anymore; he can stay right where he is. He has room to breathe, to just be—room for the next thought, the next moment, for every moment to come.

#this was fuelled by ginger tea & sleepiness ❤️#steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson

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tastesousweet · 2 days

Note

Can we get a toxic!babydaddy Matt fic like I’m craving something about my man like it’s been days and I haven’t eaten

⭒ blurb : toxic!bd matt who . . .

toxic!babydaddy matt x poc!reader

warnings: toxic relationship, dad!matt (i understand if u don’t fw it), idk what else :P

mickey speaks: this is kinda different for me so ty for the req!! ik this is just a little headcannon set but i hope you luv this anon 💐

─────────── · · ୨୧ · · ───────────

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . brings some girl he’s been “hanging out with” to your daughter’s third birthday party just to piss you off

he’d then get mad when you ignore him and his “friend” the entire party…

he’d come up to you as you watch your daughter play on the decorated playground from afar, “the fuck you bein’ petty for, y/n? i thought we were cool with seeing other people?”

“well i just think it’s rude, you didn’t tell me you were bringing anyone else. i don’t care who she is or what you two do it’s annoying from a planning perspective.”

“that’s my bad… you look good though,” he’d glance around for a second before coming behind you and hooking his arm on your neck.

he’d whisper in your ear while you both stare out at your lively daughter, “can’t believe she’s so big now… lookin’ just like her pretty mama.”

you’d roll your eyes and shoulder matt off of you, “matt, go fuck on the bitch you brought here. and stop saying shit like that to me.”

“jesus- watch your language there’s kids everywhere, y/n.”

you blankly stare at him and his cocky smirk that just aggravates you to pieces, “go awayyy, matt.” you whine out and pinch your eyes with a sigh.

and he laughs because everything’s a fucking joke to him.

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . your friends hate but you will always have a soft spot for, he is your daughter’s father after all

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . sends hundreds of roses to your doorstep for mother’s day

when you text him a picture of the ridiculous bouquets with a “????” he immediately facetimes you, “for the best mama in the whole world. you like ‘em?”

you shake your head and hide a smirk beneath your hand to scold him, “you do too much, matt.”

“uh huh i knew you’d say that…” he’d then ask to see his favorite girl, “now where’s my baby at?”

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . can’t mind his business to save his life. he’s always asking you questions about your personal life; and you always shut him down

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . can sometimes be a little too desirable when he drops your daughter off at your place (dressed nicely, smelling good, eyes bright yet droopingly eye-fucking you, etc), leading you to invite him in for a glass of wine or two

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . you sometimes find in your bed again when you feel particularly lonely and nostalgic

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . loves the few times he gets to to wake up to his daughter pulling on his hand and you by his side, fast asleep

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . tends to start arguments from the smallest things to get you to talk to him longer than you need to

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . will always put effort into being a great father (which you respect) despite never putting that same effort into your relationship

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . makes sure you’ll never forget he loved you first and is connected to you far deeper than any other man ever could be

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lxnarphase · 3 days

Text

I-T G-I-R-L ᯓ★

━━ ❝ THIS P★SSY SOMETHING ALL OVER THE WORLD ❞

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...ft. : blk!fem!reader + g. satoru + g. suguru + n. kento + h. hiromi + f. toji + k. shiu + k. choso + r. sukuna + h. kinji + t. fumihiko + t. aoi

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...synopsis : the new girl has caught his attention...and he really, really likes what he sees.

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...lunar's note : i want to try something a little different where i do little drabbles and pieces similar to 'chef kiss, she's a treat' except they'll be longer !! ❤︎ the list will be updated with links as they are posted ! leave a reply if you would like to be tagged

BITCH, YOU KNOW I'M SEXY | F. TOJI

ᯓ ❤︎ being toji's roommate, you finally snaps after another night of not being able to sleep because of toji's late night hookups. your house, your rules.

DON'T CALL, JUST TEXT ME | N. KENTO

ᯓ ❤︎ nanami always makes sure he takes good care of his girl and other girls can't help but get a little jealous of you. why not rub it in their face a little bit?

SLOW, CAN'T GET ON MY SPEED | K. CHOSO

ᯓ ❤︎ aftering pushing choso's buttons all day long, he can't help but crack and show you that he's not the constantly shy, blushing mess you think he is

YOU KNOW I AM THAT GIRL | T. AOI

ᯓ ❤︎ of course everyone is shocked when todo comes around with a girlfriend of all things...but how the hell did he bag you?!

BITCH, DON'T KISS AND TELL | H. HIROMI

ᯓ ❤︎ 'i won't go back to my ex' he said. 'i can live without her' he said. well, now hiromi's on his knees with his head is under your skirt, like the liar he is.

DON'T BE MAD AT ME 'CUS I'M C★NT, BITCH | R. SUKUNA

ᯓ ❤︎ sukuna has always hated piercing the pink, girly girls that would probably start crying the second they see the needle. but that succubus tattoo catches his eye.

TRENDSETTER, BITCH | T. FUMIHIKO

ᯓ ❤︎ you always have takaba take your insta pictures, but he's learned recently that he likes taking pictures of you all the time. all. the. time.

I'M A ST★R GIRL, BITCH | H. KINJI

ᯓ ❤︎ hakari has always found himself getting lost in your eyes because of how unique they are. but he recently notice whenever you look at him they do something...different.

PRETTY BITCHES LOVE ME | G. SUGURU

ᯓ ❤︎ suguru is just as big of a show off as gojo, he's just more subtle about it. and he wants everyone in this damn club to know that you're his.

TO BE IN VOGUE, TO WALK IN SHOWS | K. SHIU

ᯓ ❤︎ shiu loves your mini fashion shows on his days off, you always look so so pretty. but today's outfit? he likes it a bit too much.

I'M THAT BITCH, YOU ALREADY KNOW | G. SATORU

ᯓ ❤︎ satoru has started incorporating little accessories that match your fits of the day and he knows he's always making sure everyone knows its from you.

#jjk x black reader #jjk x black y/n #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #gojo x black reader #black fem reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #𖤐 ── lxnarblabs.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 days

Text

Follow You Anywhere 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: double chapter friday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You put on the outfit Sy picked out. The lilac skirt and the matching razor back tank top are a bit mismatched in style but the colour is almost exact. You add a silver necklace to add a bit more to the top and even out top and bottom.

You take out a pair of white keds and slip them on. As you do, Sy stand on the door mat with Aika prancing excitedly around him. He deepens his voice and tells her to sit. She obeys, still trembling with elation as he hooks her leash into place.

As you stand, you find his attention on you. His eyes scale up and down your body as you brush your hand up and down one arm. He tilts his head and his cheek dimples as he exhales through his nose.

“Well, let’s go,” he commands and Aika jumps to her feet as you nearly leap in place.

He opens the door, your keys already in his pocket, and he waits for you to go ahead of him. He turns to face the door as he shuts it. He has the leash around two fingers as he slides the keys in the lock and turns.

As he turns towards the hall, he stops and looks at you. You waver, uncertainly, cautious of a single misstep. He offers the leash.

“Why don’t you take her, sweetie?” He says, “two of you needa get used to each other.”

You take the leash as Aika waits patiently. At least she’s trained well. You only ever had cats so you’re not entirely sure about dogs. They’re cute, sure, but a lot stronger.

You continue down the hall and to the stairs. Sy walks calmly beside you. You’re happy at least that the rage no longer roils off of him, though a tension remains. You sense it in the subtle twiddle of his thick fingers and the way he keeps popping and cracking his joints.

Outside, the sun glints blindingly above, casting a shine much too bright for your mood. Aika stops and the leash tugs in your hand. You turn back as she pees in the grass and step closer to slacken the leash. Oops. You make a face.

“It’s okay, sweetie, you’re doing good,” Sy encourages, “she can be a bit wild when she wants to. Probably more like you than you think.”

His suggestion makes you want to frown but you won’t let him see your discomfort. You continue down the sidewalk, keeping pace with the sniffing dog as Sy lazily swaggers behind you. She stops again then crosses to the other patch of grass. You follow her.

If it wasn’t for your company, you might enjoy the day. There’s bumblebee’s digging into stores of pollen, buzzing around vibrant petals, and birds cheeping from the interior of bushes, and wispy clouds across the sky. You might have taken a picture or two, even though your phone lens rarely catches the true beauty of the world.

You continue around the corner and suddenly Aika darts forward. She pulls you nearly off your feet and you stomp clumsily after her, trying not to topple. You see what she sees only as she gets within snapping distance of the fluffy cat. The feline hisses before dashing away and you pull back the barking dog.

“Aika,” Sy says firmly and quiets the canine, “good girl.”

The silt in his voice makes even you freeze. You peek back at him and hold out the loop of the leash. You recoil as you notice the phone in his hand. Your phone. The little pearly wrist band hangs from the corner of the blush pink case. He has the lens aimed right at you.

“Say hi,” he waves from his side of the phone, “got my girls out for a nice walk in the sun.”

“What are you--” you quiet, realising what must be going on.

“Your fans want to see you, sweetie,” he chimes. “Isn’t she cute? My lady. Waited for me so long.”

He turns the camera around, holding it at arm’s length as he comes to stand beside you and faces the sunlight. You gulp as his hand goes to your hip and he pulls you close, leaning in to press his jaw to your head, angling the phone up to capture both of you. You try to smile.

“Finally going public,” he sounds almost giddy, “military sh—stuff. Couldn't disclose it til I got home but here we are.”

He turns his head and presses a kiss to your temple. He purrs and slowly releases you. He stands straight and backs up, once more aiming the camera at you. You feel like you might shatter into pieces.

“We’re gonna grab some coffee. There’s a cafe around here. You’ll remember it. She did a live back in March. Got the vanilla chai, didn’t you, sweetie? I been waiting this long to get back and try it with her,” he commentates, oblivious to the people who glance in his direction. He keeps his arm extended. “Go on, Aika’s getting antsy.”

You look down at the dog and she looks up at you. You spin and continue down the pavement. You should scream and shout and tell the world that this man is crazy. Yet it doesn’t matter. There’s probably a single viewer, if any. You realise now, he was probably your only fan. The others you’ll chalk up to bots or other weirdos.

A trickle of ice flows through your chest. He knows where the cafe is. How long has he been here? How long has he been watching, not just on the phone? You don’t know why you keep asking. It doesn’t change a thing.

You approach the short iron fence that marks off the patio of the cafe. You slow and Sy stands at your side, showing the tables and patrons to the camera. He rubs between your shoulder blades.

“So how ya wanna do it? You wanna wait with Aika or you wanna run in?” He asks.

You gulp. There is not better option. It’s all just the same.

“I’ll get the coffee,” you offer and untangle the leash from around your wrist. “What do you want?”

“Hm, good question,” he says, “why don’t ya surprise me. You know I got a sweet tooth.”

“Right.”

He takes the leash and you turn, stiffly marching through the gate and up to the door. You enter and as you’re shut in, you clutch the sides of your neck and blow out through your lips. No, you don’t know he has a sweet tooth. You don’t know him. As much as he scares you to death, he’s starting to make you really angry. It’s just how he talks as if you actually know who he is! He’s a stranger. A creep!

You stand in line and only remember to step up for your turn as someone taps your shoulder. You mumble an apology and step up. You hadn’t even checked the menu. You look at the specials board and try to wet your dry tongue.

“Um, white mocha,” you order in a croak, “and a uh, a lavender latte. Thanks.”

The barista offers to add on items from the bakery. You decline and pay, already spending enough on the overpriced coffee. You shuffle along to await your order and mull your options. None. You have none.

When your number is called, you grab your drinks and quickly spin around. You follow another customer to the door and he holds it open for you. He smiles as you step through and you thank him.

“Not at all,” he steps out after you. “You got your hands full.”

“It’s really nice of you,” you say as you walk just ahead of him, turning your head to glance over your shoulder.

“Pretty girl like you. How could I not,” he says as you reach the gate, “have a good day, miss.”

“Uh,” you’re surprised by the compliment, “you too, sir.”

You give an awkward purse of your lips as you stand in the open gate. You look around and find Sy watching you. You go to him and hold up the drinks.

“Um, I got the white mocha... not sure if you like that.”

“Ooh, white mocha, sounds delicious, just like you,” he purrs, “and what did you get?”

He takes the cup, Aika’s leash around two thick fingers. You stand dumbly, staring at the phone he keeps pointed in your face.

“The lavender latte,” you answer flatly.

“Well, the lady and I are gonna have our coffee date,” he says to the camera as he flips it around, “walk the pup and all that. Hope you all have a good day. Right, sweetie?”

He once more puts you on the stream. Your lip trembles, “sure, yeah. Have a good day everyone.”

You hold a shaky smile and he taps the screen several times with his thumb. He slides the phone into his short’s pocket and tastes his mocha. He waves you down the sidewalk and Aika takes the lead. He’s quiet as he slurps from the plastic lid.

“That boy,” he speaks at last, “said you were pretty.”

You blanch and turn the cup in your hand. The heat seeps through the sleeve and adds to the sheen across your skin, “er, I guess. I don’t know.”

“Who was he?” Sy asks harshly.

You flinch and peek up at him. He’s not happy. His entire demeanour has shifted.

“I don’t know. A stranger. He just held the door,” you shrug, “guess he was being nice.”

“Being nice? Shouldn’t be talking to strangers,” he reproaches.

You nearly choke. Yeah, you shouldn’t. He taught you that well.

“You are a pretty girl,” he says, “so I’m just lookin’ out for you. Some men...”

You keep your eyes ahead as you fight to hold your composure. You drink from the cup, tasting the floral foam, and swallow. You force the breath from your chest and steady your nerves.

“Sorry, I... won’t do it again.”

He hums and reaches to grab your hand. His large one swallows yours. You don’t pull away, even as you desperately want to . He walks along with you, swing his arm slightly.

“Isn’t this nice, sweetie?” He purrs, “you and me and Aika. Like a little family.”

You grit your teeth and your aching cheeks fall. You can’t smile any long. You try to hide your face as you hover your mouth over the cup, “yeah,” you wisp out, “it’s nice.”

💜

When you get back to the apartment, you’re exhausted yet adrenaline has you wide awake. Sy lets Aika off her leash and feeds her as you toss your empty coffee cup. You linger around the bin nervously, uncertain what to do next. You’re trapped again within these walls that once spoke of your freedom.

Sy groans and stretches his neck. He runs his hands over his shaved head and combs his fingers through his thick beard. You step away from garbage before he notices you hiding.

“Hot out, I’m beat,” he yawns, “what about you, sweetie?”

“Yeah, uh, kinda,” you hug yourself and sway, “but um, not too bad.”

“Ugh, one thing I was happy about was gettin’ outta the heat,” he pulls on his shirt and lifts it over his head. The fabric is darkened around the chest and arms with his sweat. More of it glistens in his body hair as he strips away the tee.

You chew your lip and go to turn the fan on, turning it to oscillate. You sense him in the edge of your vision. He hangs the shirt across the back of a dining room chair then comes back to the living room. You stay close to the wall.

“Er, Sy,” your heart jumps as your doubt clogs your throat.

“Mhmm,” he flops onto the couch and leans back. He’s shameless and shirtless. His muscles flex along his arms and chest. He’s huge.

“Do you think I can have my phone? I wanted to check my messages,” you push your palms together and twist your hands.

“Don’t got none,” he says, “forget about that. Let’s disconnect. You and me, sweetie, let’s enjoy a quiet night in.”

You want your phone but you know better than to push him. You’ve seen what happens when you do. You peer over at the dent in the wall.

“Sure,” you go to him and sit on the couch, keeping a foot between you. “Do you wanna watch something?”

You reach for the remote and he stops you. He snatches your hand back and wraps his arm around you, pulling you to lean into the couch with him. He crowds you as his scent suffocates you. It smells like sweat and generic deodorant.

“We don’t need TV, sweetie, let’s just enjoy each other,” he reaches across you and rubs your upper arm.

“Um,” you nearly choke, “it’s almost dinner time--”

“It’s early,” his voice is rocky, “sweetie, it’s alright. Just relax. It’s finally just us.”

“Sy, I... I should get some work done,” you sniff.

“You should take it easy. You work too hard,” his hand brushes along your shoulder and to your neck. He drags his knuckles up your throat, “you’re gorgeous, you know that? This colour,” he slips his hand back down and touches the top of the tank, “looks so good on you.”

“Thanks, I, er,” you squeeze your thigh and gulp. You can’t help the tremor that rolls through you, “Sy, please,” you reach up and grab his hand, “I should--”

“It’s okay to be nervous. I am too, sweetie,” he rasps as he leans in, “but I can’t wait any longer.”

He frees his hand from yours and cradles your face. He dips his head and you press your hand to his chest, helpless to stop him as he smothers your mouth with his. You let out a muffled gasp as he crushes his lips to yours, his tongue poking around eagerly. His hand crawls around the back of your head as he traps you against the couch.

Your fingers curl against the muscle of his chest and he groans. He pulls you against him, falling back with you until he’s flat on the cushions. He brings you over him, and arm hooked around you as his other hand stays on your head. His tongue invades your mouth as you struggle to breathe past his hunger. Your brain screams at you to bite him, to smack, to do anything, but you’re paralysed with futility.

#captain syverson #dark captain syverson #dark!captain syverson #captain syverson x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #sandcastle #follow you anywhere

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deathbxnny · 1 day

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omg bxnny I saw that your requests are open!!

I love your writing and I've been WAITING to request something (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡

so I'm a sucker for platonic pairings, and was wondering if you could do something like Aventurine having a child sibling (fem if possible) and she's like his lucky charm and stuck to his side 24/7. Literally, he goes playing poker? they're sitting beside him and he ALWAYS wins with her there and things like that (and obviously he spoils her absolutely rotten and everyone who is willing to listen to him for more than 5 minutes knows about his baby sister), I hope it's not too detailed! 🩷🩷

love you and take care!!

Hey there, dear moot!! Thank you so much for the cute request!! I'm sick rn, so I hope this is okay and coherent lmao-

Content: Vague gambling, the IPC is it's own warning, angst, fluff, sfw

Reader is afab!

((Not proofread))

His little sister is his most important person in the world, and he makes that crystal clear to everyone and especially her, for that matter. He doesn't take any slight against her lightly in any way and protects her with his life. He would stop at nothing for her to be happy, which is why he works so hard to free her from the IPC one day, even if he has to take the fall in the process. She is all he has left after all.

He wears a golden necklace of her initials around his neck and even proudly displays the brightly colored bracelets she made him on his wrists, despite them not fitting his lavish attire at all. He let's her play with his hair, apply makeup on his face even if it looks silly, and also definitely has grand tea parties with her that he takes very seriously.

With that said, as his little sister, she's absolutely spoiled rotten. She couldn't ask for more if she tried, and even if she did, he'd try even harder for her. It's a way to compensate for all they went through together, and whilst he knows it may never repair the mental damage she went through, he hopes it can distract her from the reality she's living for just a little longer.

His baby sister being his "lucky charm" is definitely something everyone knows about. He'd have her sitting on his lap or next to him whilst he plays, slyly showing her his cards with a knowing grin. He never lost a singular bet with her around and knows that his final plan would only succeed through the light of motivation she shone down on him every day.

Whenever he has moments of self-doubt and guilt, he reminds himself of what he's still living for, and it's her. His sister deserves a good life, one free from all troubles, and he's glad that she is still young enough to have a chance at it. And as much as it hurts, that future would be one without him once his plans proceed. He hopes that she can live on and remember him through the freedom he gave her, even when she one day inevitably forgets his face, voice, and name.

Alright... I hope this was okay!! I'm not feeling the best at the moment, so writing is a real struggle. But either way, thank you again for the request!!<33

#honkai star rail fanfic #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr #hsr aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine x y/n #aventurine x reader #aventurine

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pinksugarscrub · 3 days

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Home

Pirate! Hobie x fem! reader

In the famous words of Luffy (Iñaki) future pirate king, "A ship is also a home".

Inspired by Between the Devil and the Sea by @the-kr8tor

(Tossed draft for The Pirate Princess)

The piano echoes in your mind like an endless melody. Tapping your fingers against the edge of the crow’s nest like you would the ivory keys. You can remember the gold encrusted stars in the ceiling. The walls darker than the depths of the sea. How your heels clicked across a tiled floor that was so iridescent it was like you were dancing on glass.

Although you breathe in the salt from the body of water below, you taste something sweet on your tongue as you reminisce. It isn’t sad, just bittersweet.

“Interupting you am I?”

Laughter bubbles out of your lips as you feel a familiar set of arms wrap around your waist. Hobie burying his nose into the crook of your neck. You never grow tired of the warm fuzzy feeling his presence brings you and you can’t help but try to pull him closer so he’s flush against your back.

“Woah!” Hobie chuckles,“a bit early for that isn’t it love?”

You click your tongue. Rolling your eyes as you try to jab his side with your elbow. “Oh hush! You’ve officially ruined the moment.”

He snickers, easily catching your arm before twisting you around to face him. “Officially? What are we, bloody marines?”

The chatter from the crew below helps bring you back to reality. Your new reality. One you wouldn’t trade for the world.

Crossing your arms across your chest you lean against the wall of the crow’s nest. Arching a brow at him as you decide to play along. “At least the marines know what to do when a beautiful woman falls into their lap.”

His grin widens into a smirk you know all to well and you’re already dreading he’ll say next.

“But do they know how to keep their woman satisfied? Hm?” He leans forward. Eyes flicking between your lips and gaze. “Like I do?”

Of course, like the gullible woman you are, you let your eyes flutter shut. You’re confused until you hear him giggle and you know you’ve been duped because when you open your eyes he’s looking down at you with that cheeky look on his face. It’s so infuriating but it apparently still has an affect on you anyway because you feel heat crawl up your cheeks.

You take this moment of loss to your self-esteem to admire his attire. A newly mended white blouse that’s cut to expose some of his chest. (You’ll have to thank Kamala for that later). Signature holster around his waist. Very casual compared to the thick leather coat he adorns when you go into battle.

Personally, you believe your crew has more style than a bird of paradise with how many trinkets and accessories they seem to find each time you dock the Mary Jane.

“Aww darling, c’mere,”he coos. ”You’re so cute when you get all pouty with me.”

You huff in annoyance as you try to keep him away. It’s obvious he’s pretending to struggle but you can’t bring yourself to care. He’s making loud kissy noises while you whine and push your palms against his chest. One on his exposed skin (Were you about to pass up that opportunity? I think not!) and the other on the cotton of his sleeve.

“No! What kind of Captain denies his navigator a kiss!?

He grunts,“The kind that will make up for it later! Now come here-”

You struggle for a moment longer before you hear someone call out to you. The two of you stop. Blinking at each other before Hobie let’s you slip out of his grasp. His hand on your lower back to keep you from leaning to far over the edge.

“Oh Robbie!” You cheerfully wave down. He’s nothing more than a speck of green but you always manage to hear him clearly.

“Mate,” Hobie yells,“we were kind of in the middle of something important.”

Said first mate scoffs at him before rolling his eyes. Not that you see any of this happen. You just know the man well enough. “Oh yes, so important…” He clears his throat before yelling back,“Riri’s messed with the gear again and I’m pretty sure we’re headed in the opposite direction.”

You can only watch as a tool is chucked in his direction. You’re assuming from inside Riri’s makeshift workshop. Wincing as it successful bonks him in the head. “It’s called renovating!”

You don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“I’ll be right down!” Your boots scuffing against the wood as you make your way past Hobie to the ladder.

“Pray tell, where-” You squeak as you feel him tug you back into his chest. Stumbling not so gracefully after craning your neck up to see him. “-do you think, you’re going, without giving me my kiss?”

“I’m sorry,” you laugh,”but I have duties, Captain.” He preens at the title. Shifting you around in his arms like you would a rowdy pup. “If we want to reach port in the next six hours and you know, not die of starvation on this ship. I need to go.”

“I never told you not to.” He answers. Grinning as he tightens his hold on you. “But you have at least a minute to spare for your beloved, yes?”

You scrunch you nose, gently shaking your head as if scolding a child. A very greedy child that always seems to attach himself to you. It’s a wonder the crew hasn’t named him the ocean’s clingest sea urchin. “My beloved, yes, my captain…no,” you chuckle. “Come on Hobie, I promise you a kiss after supper and after I help Riri.”

He sighs dramatically before releasing you. His hands up in surrender as he backs away. “Fine fine. But I’m holding you to it eh? The second you’re done you come find me.”

“Aye Captain.” You salute. He watches as you hop down the ladder and after two or three steps you disappear. Once you’re out of earshot he lets out a dreamy sigh, slumps against the walls of the crow’s nest, and cranes his neck up to the sky.

“Oi, that means you too Hobart!” Robbie hisses. “Stop daydreaming a get down ere’!”

Hobie snorts, fixing his hat. “Alright, I’m comin’!”

#atsv #across the spiderverse #hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #spiderman atsv #atsv hobie #spiderpunk #hobie x reader #spider punk x reader

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anangelwhodidntfall · 8 hours

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Take A Chance: Rafe Cameron

Outer Banks Masterlist

word count: 800

description: tried of seeing your heart broken by losers, Rafe decides to take matters into his hands...will you accept?

Another failed talking stage but yet you were so attached. You had been in your room rotting away for at least two days now only stepping out when no one was around to see you and how miserable you were over a talking stage.

You were currently laying in bed softly crying thinking how you were destined to be alone at this rate. So lost in your thoughts that you didn't hear your bedroom door open until you saw him kneeling in front of you with a frown on his face.

"He doesn't deserve your tears sunshine." He said gently wiping your tears.

"I know but it still hurts Rafe, every time I try to start a relationship with a guy it always fails...I just wish I was good enough." You said sadly.

"But you are good enough sunshine, someday you will find someone who show you how good enough you are." He said as you leaned into his touch.

Rafe's heart was breaking seeing you like this...seeing you so heartbroken over some loser that clearly didn't appreciate you.

"Rafe can you lay with me for a bit?" You asked him softly.

"Of course sunshine." He said softly kicking his shoes off.

He climbed into your bed next to you before beckoning to come crawl into his arms which you happily did. He laid there running a hand through your hair until he heard your breathing even out and then he pulled out his phone and started planning something special for you. Rafe had been in love with you for years but due to his issues he always kept them to himself never wanting to hurt you or involve you in his mess but now he had no choice.

"She's gonna love that, are you finally going to tell her?" Sarah asked standing by your door.

"You think so? I want this to be perfect for her she deserves to know that there is someone out there that truly loves her." He said placing a kiss on your forehead making you snuggle into him.

"Yes Rafe she's gonna love it. I'm gonna go since you are here with her but let me know if you need anything." Sarah said.

A few days later you were feeling a bit better than you had been the last two weeks. You were currently getting ready for a surprise that Rafe said he had for you unsure what he was up to.

You had just finished putting on your shoes when you heard him knock on the door. You walked over to the door and opened it and there he was standing there looking so handsome as always, with a bouquet of sunflowers.

"Wow sunshine you look absolutely gorgeous." He said.

"Thank you Rafe, you look handsome as well." You said with a small smile.

"These are for you, I know how much you love sunflowers." He said handing them to you as your heart melted.

"You remembered?" You asked shocked as none of your past relationships did.

"Of course I did, I remember everything about you sunshine." He said with a smile.

You quickly put them in some water so they wouldn't die and met him by the door, where he lead you out to his truck and helped you into it. You guys made small talk as he drove to wherever he was taking you, and soon enough you guys were at the private beach that you guys liked to come to. He parked his truck and helped you out and that's when you saw a beautiful picnic setup by the beach making you look at Rafe.

"Rafe what is going on? What's all this?" You asked him.

"Sunshine bare with me...this is all new for me but I wanted to take you on a small date to show you that there is someone out there who cares for you and wants you and thinks the world of you." He said nervously.

"Why now Rafe?" You asked him.

"Because sunshine I thought I was protecting you by pushing you away but after seeing you hurt once again by some loser, I couldn't keep hiding from you any longer. So I know this is a big ask sunshine, but please take a chance on me and let me show you the kind of relationship you deserve." He said.

You were shocked by his confession let alone that he did all of this for you but deep down you had always had feelings for Rafe and that all these talking stages were attempts to get your mind off of him.

"Rafe I would like to give us a chance." You said with a smile.

Hearing you say that made a huge smile spread across Rafe's face as he wrapped his arms around you and placed a kiss on your lips.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe imagine #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x you

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uponthefantasy · 2 days

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°○ Missing | Hashira x platonic! Tsuguko! Reader Headcanon| ○°

How the hashiras react to having to fight you as a demon.

Description: It's been weeks since they had last seen you, and they were already worried over their minds. When it is officially declared that you're missing, they look all over for you, only to find you as one of the enemies.

Genre: Angst.

Characters: Giyuu Tomioka and Kyojuro Rengoku.

°○ Giyuu Tomioka ○°

Giyuu already had a bad feeling about you leaving for that mission, and seeing your condition now had proved his suspicions.

You're usually tan body was now as pale as snow, those innocent eyes with round pupils that gave your face just a bit more charm and cuteness were now paled in comparison of the color before, and your rounded pupils were now slits. Fangs had protruding from your gums, giving you the look of a monster. You had become a demon. It hurt him to see you in such a way, knowing that your cheery, sweet soul was dead, replaced with something cold and heartless.

It was his fault anyway.

If he hadn't let you go on the damn mission in the first place, none of this would've happened. Instead, he was now standing in front of a shell of who you truly were, something that was no longer the sweet, cheerful tsuguko that Giyuu had promised to protect, just like he promised for every other person who he still failed to protect in his life. He couldn't protect his sister. He couldn't protect his best friend. And now he failed to protect the last person he was truly able to care and love for, his tsuguko.

He watched as you charged forward, aming for him with nothing but pure, animalistic hunger in your eyes. He had to accept that you were no longer human. No longer the person who had changed his life for the better. Instead of enjoying a peaceful day of your return, he was standing here, getting into a stance and slicing the delicate head off your shoulders, his ocean eyes turning glossy while doing so.

Giyuu stared at your withering body with no emotion. You were gone. For good. He slowly turned around and walked away, his eyes glossy and his heart broken.

"I'm sorry, Y/n.... I couldn't protect you..." He whispered.

°○ Kyojuro Rengoku ○°

For one of the very few times in his life, Rengoku had failed to smile. His usual heart filled with warmth was now full with a mix of shock, guilt, and sorrow. He felt like he couldn't even move when his bright, firey eyes stopped upon your demonic frame. The snow-white skin, sharp claws, and weird markings all over your body told him exactly everything he needed to know.

You were a demon.

Despite the feeling of anguish in his heart, he charged forward, taking a swift slice of his bright red sword towards your pale, delicate neck. Though it hurt him to have to do such a thing to someone so dear to him, he knew it was for the great or good.

He watched as you slowly faded away, his eyes filled with sorrow as you ever so slightly disappeared from the world.

"Goodbye, Y/n. I'll see you again soon." He spoke, his eyes widening once he heard soft words emitting from the remainder of your mouth.

"Goo....dbye....juro..."

Before he could blink, you were gone. Leaving him alone to face the world once again.

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bella-goths-wife · 5 hours

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Ghostbusters x ghost reader

Warnings: mentions of death, obsessive behaviour, non canon events, descriptions of traps being painful, ghost stuff

You had no idea what happened

One minute you were alive, and the next you were dead

But it wasn’t the death you were promised

You were given your body, but your skin was translucent and you felt utterly weightless

You were hysterical as you tried to ask the people surrounding you what was happening, but they ignored your presence and you quickly figured out they couldn’t see you or notice your presence

You had no clue how long you’d been dead, or how long you had roamed the streets in your Vaporised body

But you were so tragically bored

who knew that being a ghost was so mind numbingly mundane

You spent most of your days in your previous apartment with the tv on as you tried to live your life as if you were just having a day off from work, and not like you were dead and cursed to roam the world

But that only worked until the landlord cleared out your apartment so you just sat on the floor in the empty carcass that was once your home

And then some newlyweds moved in, and they were gross

You had to deal with seeing their acts of love and pda and have the realisation that that kind of love was no longer in the cards for you

So one day you got annoyed with their very loud PDA in the bedroom, and out of frustration you slammed cupboard and startled the life out of the couple

And a mischievous smirk crossed your face at the realisation that you could royally fuck someone’s day up with this

So you started off with hiding stuff, then breaking stuff until you finally got so frustrated that you screamed and accidentally revealed yourself to the couple

They called the ghostbusters the next day to report being haunted by the ghost of an early twenties female who was extremely mischievous

Winston and Ray were the first to arrive at the scene and immediately as they entered the apartment they felt a chill in their bones

You wanted to mess with them but you thought better of it as you had seen one of their adverts back before you died, you knew what they were here for and you were not about to get caught in one of those traps

So you just followed them into each of the rooms they visited and watched from over their shoulders

They had been to each of the rooms and retreated back to the living room when Peter and Egon arrived

Egon did various tests that you were careful to avoid in an attempt to fool them into thinking that you were not there

You hadn’t avoided the tests completely though, as Egon’s device showed that there was a ghostly presence but your attempts of fooling them had paid off because avoiding the device like you had gave the impression that the spiritual presence wasn’t in that apartment but someone else’s

The newlyweds were extremely frustrated with that outcome and demanded explanations for the various spiritual incidents like the coldness

To which venkman replied that they should check on their AC before stating that they were extremely busy and unless the spirit came back, the ghost busters couldn’t help

As they went to leave, you did something you weren’t sure was possible

You attached yourself to Egon as he left your apartment building, having taken you with him accidentally

And Egon accidentally took you straight to the ghostbusters headquarters

Where after you got adjusted, you wrecked havoc

You started off small by following the workers of ghostbusters around their daily routine in the headquarters

You followed Egon round in his lab, you followed Winston as he stored traps, you followed Peter around as he annoyed people in his office and you followed Ray around as he helped improve traps and washed the car

You also listened to Janine on the phone and whenever Dana would come in to visit Venkman you would follow her around as she helped keep the place in order

But that quickly got boring the routines became predictable, so you decided to throw a few wrenches in their plans

You’d mess with Egons lab equipment so that his results wouldn’t come out clearly

You’d move traps around whenever Winston went to clean them or store them until he found them in the strangest and impossible to reach sports

You’d mess with Peters papers whenever he left his office and your delete messages that someone left for him just out of spite

And you’d mess up any progress Ray made with the traps and you’d mess up anything he cleaned

It all become quite frustrating for the four men

You weren’t a violent or impulsive spirit like they had experience before, you were just mischievous and annoying

It all came to a head one night when you decided to get bold with your mischief

You had assumed that all of the ghostbusters were out for the night, but you failed to recall the recluse that was Egon Spengler

You had gotten bored so you decided to go to the radio that Janine kept on her desk and you blasted the radio as it played maneater by Daryl & Oats

You danced around in a similar fashion to Lydia from beetle juice as you raised yourself to the ceiling and danced around the room

The music had disturbed Egon as he rushed out of the lab and into the main area, where he saw you dancing

In your joy you had become visible to the human eye, and Egon could see the little minx who had been tormenting him and his friends for months on end

Egon watched for around ten minutes before you spotted him and disappearing, but not before flashing him a fox like smile

Now that Egon was aware of your existence, he decided it was time he looked into who you were

He pestered your landlord about the previous residents of your apartment and looked through the photos until he recognised you

Your landlord assumed Egon must have been an old boyfriend and insisted that he take some of your stuff since you had no family come and collect it, and Egon accepted out of peer pressure

So he brought your things back to the headquarters and looked through them

He found many things of interest to him but he noticed a dusty chess board in one of the various boxes and thought it would be a brilliant way to to establish communication

So he dusted off the chess board and set it up in his lab with a camera set up in the corner, and he waited

He made his first move and waited around five minutes before a piece from the opposite side moved in a countermove

Egon played chess with you until he eventually won, and he offered you a rematch on the condition that you communicated with him this time

And so you did, you made yourself visible to Egon and you were sporting the same fox like grin as before

Egon tried to ask questions during your second game, but you never answered past shaking and nodding your head

You had won the second round after making a few unexpected moves while Egon was distracted trying to communicate with you

Egon gathered the ghostbusters and showed them the tape before actively encouraging them to try and communicate with you whenever they noticed your mischievous presence

They all questioned why they shouldn’t just trap you and store you, but Egon quickly responded that he’d never seen a spirit with this amount of self awareness that you were a ghost, and the fact that you communicated with him was an intriguing premise as most spirits don’t communicate in favour of doing whatever they did before they died

It became somewhat of a daily occurrence for you to play chess with Egon as he encouraged you to talk and you refused

Winston was the most receptive to Egons as his frustration at your mischievous antics encouraged him to scold what looked like thin air about how hard you made his day, he may have felt foolish talking to himself but he’d do anything to try and convince you to stop hiding his traps

So he talked to an empty room as he stored a trap and almost stopped before hearing a ghostly giggle

He had turned around and saw your translucent figure actively laughing at his frustration before taking off with his trap

He practically played hide and seek with you for about an hour before he saw you leave the trap in the lab and take off with a fox like grin

That became a daily occurrence for Winston, and despite his annoyance he quite enjoyed your little games

Raymond was the next person to become more receptive to your presence as he tried to seek you out

He had noted what Egon had said about catching you dancing and that gave Ray an idea as he rewashed the car you dirtied again

He turned on the radio to his usual station of self proclaimed “groove music’ and talked to the room as he tried to encourage you to come out and listen to the music

And he was caught of guard when the radio completely turned off and for a moment he thought he had angered you

That was until the radio started again with a more pop like radio, and ray figured out that you weren’t angry but you hated his music

Ray tried to defend his music taste to your invisible presence and switch back the radio to his music but he got spooked as you came out of no where and did a quick ‘boo’

When he was distracted by the near heart attack you gave him, you switched it back to your music

Ray decided it was easier to give in rather than be spooked every time he went near the radio

After that, whenever ray was working on something he’d turn on the radio and you’d switch the music and you’d both listen together

And you’d still give him small spooks whenever you could

You bonded with Venkman months after the others and over something extremely surprising, crossword puzzles

Peter loved and hated crossword puzzles

He loved the feeling of completing one and the feeling of superiority that came from it, he hated that he could never actually finish them

So one day after your usual wreaking of havoc in his office, he sat down with a coffee and a crossword and felt extremely frustrated when he couldn’t complete it

So he sarcastically asked the prompt to what he thought was the empty room and was extremely surprised when an invisible figure plucked the pencil from his hand and answered the crossword

Peter was intrigued so he allowed your little game of him reading the prompts and you answering them until you both eventually finished it together

This made Peter much more tolerable to your presence as you two would do a crossword puzzle together whenever he had time or he felt your presence in his office

You had such a good relationship building up with each of them that they considered not trapping you and just letting you haunt the place in your own little harmless ways

But that was quickly scrapped when one day you accidentally took it too far

Dana had come to the headquarters to visit Peter and bring him coffee, and when she couldn’t find him she started wandering around looking for him

She followed the sound of music into the little garage section of the building and entered the room

You had been playing around with Ray at the time before he stepped out and when Dana came in you assumed she was Ray and gave her a little spook

This little spook however caused her to fall back and scrape her legs while the coffee spilled on her arm and gave her a small burn

You hadn’t meant to hurt her but she was so scared in that moment that she screamed

The commotion brought the four men down to her and misconstrued the scene as you purposely hurting Dana

Egon helped Dana with her injuries before sending her back home and calling a meeting

In this meeting he stated that you had become a dangerous and violent spirit and Peter quickly said that they should trap you, still raging over Dana getting hurt

They all agreed and before you knew it, they had cornered you as you clasped your hands together and pleaded for a second chance

They didn’t listen as they put you in the trap but the entire process felt like hit irons on your skin

You were eventually forced into this trap that to you looked like a jail cell from the inside before storing you with the rest of the ghosts and going on with their lives

Your afterlife was extremely mundane and painful as you were stuck in the trap for three months that felt like three years, with nothing to do and nowhere to go

The four men tried to go on with their lives but something distinct was missing

Out of routine kept accidentally doing the things that they would usually do with you and expecting you to show up

Egon would sit at the chess board and night before realising you weren’t coming and just playing a solo game of chess

Winston would set traps out for you to hide like he used to, only to find them still on the desk when he fishies counting to thirty

Ray would put his groove music on while he washed the car and waited for you to switch it over to pop, but you never came

Even Venkman, who was the most insistent on trapping you, would still accidentally read out a crossword puzzle prompt and wait for you to answer before finally realising that you weren’t there

So after three months and Dana explaining that she didn’t think you hurt her on purpose, they decided to release you from your trap

It was a relief to finally be free as you felt yourself becoming adjusted you your ghostly body again

The four ghost busters assumed that things were going to go back to the way they were, thinking that you wouldn’t be angry about the three months of entrapment

But you did remember and you were royally pissed off about it

You actively ignored all the efforts of the four men trying to contact you and you ignored all of their agologies (ray and Winston were the only ones to apologise)

You decided that they deserved to feel an inch of what you felt those painful three months

If they assumed you were dangerous and violent, you would give them dangerous and violent

Should I continue this? :)

#ghostbusters #ghostbusters x reader #ghostbusters x fem reader #egon spengler #egon spengler x reader #peter venkman #Peter venkman x reader #winston zeddemore #Winston zeddemore x reader #raymond stantz #Raymond stantz x reader #ghostbusters 1984 #ghost reader #dana barrett #Dana Barrett x reader

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nadvs · 1 day

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okay i’m on my period and ive been listening to fourth of july by sufjan stevens on REPEATTT😭 it’s inspired a fic idea that i think u would absolutely nail !!!!

sad ofc but rafe’s ex (moved out of the obx) gets news that he’s passed away. it’s centred around her going home, going thru the motions of how jarring it is that someone as big and powerful and stoic as rafe is just….gone. not there anymore. the lyrics of the song are great inspo ofc, but yeah just a huge ball of heartache and emotional despair!

if u wanted to lighten things up a pt2 could be like rafe faked his death vibes, angst and reunion and love and ahhhh!

၊၊||၊၊||၊၊ fourth of july / sufjan stevens

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

content warning death, drug abuse

When you saw the post on social media, you thought it was a sick joke.

But then you read the comments, full of canned condolences and useless prayers, and your refusal to accept the news crumbled with every typed word until you couldn’t possibly deny it any longer.

Someone commented asking how. Someone else replied overdose.

Sorrow and loss and shock and nausea swirled through you. You paced around your bedroom, chest heaving, glancing at the door as if someone was coming to pull you out of the nightmare.

Eventually, you found the strength to text Sarah. You still had her number even though you broke things off with Rafe three months ago.

She gave you the details for the funeral that Saturday.

It’s a hot, sunny afternoon when you make it to Kildare Island. It’s wrong that the world is still spinning, boasting beautiful weather on a gruesome day.

You think bitterly about how people are surely enjoying the sun today, all while the man you still love is being buried.

When Sarah sees you at the church, she gives you a mournful, forced smile. You hug her, your eyes swollen and red and aching, your throat burning as you tell her I’m sorry and are you okay?

You’re not sure if Rafe told her about why you broke up.

— and i’m sorry i left, but it was for the best though it never felt right

He hated that you wanted to move to another state for a job opportunity. He didn’t understand why you didn’t want to stay, why he couldn’t just take care of you.

You told him this was for the best and he’d find a girl who’d make him happy. He told you that was bullshit.

You doubt Sarah knows. He never spoke much to his sister unless he was fighting with her, so she likely has no idea why you ended an otherwise happy relationship.

There’s a large photo of him sitting on an easel at the front. You’re surprised they found a picture of him smiling.

It’s grainy and clearly zoomed in, likely from a group photo. He always had a great smile. He hardly showed it.

The lights hit the photographed blue of his eyes dully. Nothing like how he looked when he was alive. Even beneath the anger and bitterness Rafe carried around, he had a brightness in his eyes reserved solely for you.

You watched it fade the day you left him.

— make the most of your life, while it is rife, while it is light

When you see the coffin resting above the plot in the cemetery, you think you might be sick.

You knew Rafe liked coke. You feel naive now that you didn’t realize it was a problem. He just did it at parties when you were dating. At least, you thought he did.

Maybe you could have prevented this.

You remember the way his arm was wrapped around your waist at one of the last beach house parties you attended together. It was when you were still considering the job offer, knowing deep down you were going to take it.

He smelled like cologne and sweat and Rafe, his cheek against yours as he spoke over the loud music.

“You can’t move,” he said, chuckling and high out of his mind. “Look how much fun we’re having, baby.”

“I’d have more fun if we left,” you told him. He scoffed. But then he led you out of the party, down to the beach, hugging you from behind, kissing your neck as you sat in the sand.

“How’s this?” Rafe murmured. He earned laughs from you, his lips on your neck. “Fun?”

“Yeah,” you replied sincerely.

But you still left.

You can hardly listen to the sermon, but one part reverberates through you like it’s being screamed into your ears. We don’t face this life or death without promises.

There was a time when you and Rafe lived in a promise together. But now you just live, and he doesn’t.

Sarah finds you as you’re opening your car door to leave. She tells you it would feel wrong not to show you. They went through his phone. There are messages he sent to you that remain undelivered.

You blocked him after the break-up. You thought it was the right thing to do, but deep down, it felt more wrong than anything.

Your hand trembles as you hold the phone up to your face. It’s jarring, touching something that big, strong, abrasive, loud Rafe owned and used every day, and now he’s buried yards away from you, nothing but coldness and weakness and stillness. He owns nothing now.

Sharp spikes dig into your heart when you see that he sent you a string of texts the night he died.

i can’t stop thinking about you

i love you and i can make you love me again

come back

or i’ll come to you

please try one more time with me

“Thanks,” you tell Sarah, handing back the phone, when in reality, no part of you feels grateful upon seeing words he tried to say to you but couldn’t. You would have been better off not knowing.

You leave a part of yourself in that cemetery. It died with him. Because Rafe always said you were the only one who loved him and he left this earth thinking you didn’t anymore.

#this prompt is so good #and that song is gutwrenching oof #prepare for nothing but heartache below the cut #blurb #ask #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and reader #rafe cameron and y/n

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buddiebeginz · 7 hours

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I’ve made posts about this before but I’m gonna keep on about it. Please if you love Buddie (when you have time) you need to be posting about them on every social media platform there is. Also liking and commenting on posts especially ones that are on official 911 accounts like the main ABC one or the actors or when interviews come out.

If ABC posts about Buck/Eddie or Ryan and Oliver you need to remind them in the comments we’re rooting for Buddie. I know Buddie fandom is bigger and louder than B/T fans but I keep seeing them all over. There's no reason that pairing with two eps of build up are getting anywhere near the level of attention as Buddie does.

I’m not saying as fans we have all this power over what is going to happen on the show but we have some sway. It’s part of how bi Buck has even happened. So us being so vocal and supportive of Buddie all these years and even more now while the story is still unfolding matters.

I don't want Tim or anyone else getting the impression that we want T*mmy sticking around any longer than necessary at least not as a love interest.

I know there's been a lot of talk about how the show needs take their time and build Buddie's story if they're going canon and I know some want Buck to be with T*mmy so Buddie can have that slow burn towards getting together. While I do think it's important that Buddie's story is not rushed and handled with care that fact is we really have no idea how many seasons the show even has. I wish some of you would realize we are not living in the golden age of tv anymore. We are living during a time when tv shows get canceled even when they are successful just as a way for networks to cut costs. It's why Fox canceled 911 before it was moved to ABC.

So as much as I do want the show take all the time in the world with Buddie I also want us to actually get to see them go canon. I also feel like we've been in a slow burn with them for six years especially those of us who have watched the show for its entire run. I want to see the show make some progression in moving Buddie's story further along. I'm not saying I want them to be in a relationship tomorrow, absolutely not. But I do think that moving into season 8 I'd like the show to have given us some kind of canon sign that both men feel something for each other beyond friendship. We know they do but I mean something that can't be taken any other way like say an almost kiss at the wedding for example. I'd also like for Eddie to be dealing with his own sexuality storyline by next season.

Back to T*mmy in all honesty the main reason I don't want to see him sticking around much longer is because of his fans. I'm tired of just how much the B/T fans have taken over our fandom. All the tags even ones on other social media platforms are being overrun by B/T and worse by negativity towards Buddie and Eddie and the complete minimizing of the importance of Buddie going canon. I'm glad that T*mmy has helped Buck with his bi awakening but he is so clearly not meant to be an endgame love interest. I just want to see him gone or have the storyline at least move on to where if he's still on the show it's as a friend for Buck, which I personally think he needs more than a relationship right now. Someone who is queer who can help him navigate this newly discovered part of himself.

#buddie #911!

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multifandom-nerds-blog · 13 hours

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I'm rewatching Trollhunters in the background right now, and the disfunctional mother son relationship between Jim and his mom is making me crazy.

Like, he's taking care of the household and his mother for years as a teenager and before probably. She is sometimes giving half hearted comments about him not having to do so much, but very obviously she's not gonna make him stop do all the cooking and cleaning. Y'know. Both because they've been living like this for years, and because it's obviously also very comfortable to have someone do all the house work.

Then Strickler comes into the picture, and if we ignore the whole Troll and changeling side of the story, Barabara gets very offended cause Jim doesn't want her to meet him privately. Again, ignoring the whole magic and trolls stuff, STRICKLER IS JIMS TEACHER. If Jim hadn't figured out that Strickler was a changeling he probably wouldn't have a problem with it, but the fact that he does, no matter the reason, should be enough for Barbara to put a stop to the relationship. Her child is clearly uncomfortable with her seeing/dating that guy, for whatever reason, and even clearly vocalized it. But she doesn't care about, or rather, she tells Jim that she "wouldn't expect something like that" from him. Obviously not, cause she may see him like her child/teenager he is, BUT DOESN'T TREAT HIM LIKE ONE.

And then Jim, unknowingly to Barbara, becomes the Trollhunter, and his behavior changes. He's suddenly doing reckless stuff, sneaking out, getting bruises, landing in detention and even at the police station, barely avoiding a police report. What does she do? Asking him what's going on? If everything's alright at school? If he has any other problems? Maybe trying to lower his workload around the house, which again, he's doing most of that as a teenager and longer probably.

Nah. She doesn't do anything until he lands in the hospital. Except for again, dismissing him rather negatively at the one topic he's openly expressing any negative opinions about (Strickler). And after he lands in the hospital she now starts not asking questions, but demanding answers. Demanding answers from a teenager in a difficult situation who is also now acting much more like a teenager than he ever did before, from her point of view at least. Except she obviously doesn't know how to deal with a teenager, cause she has never had to raise or live with a teenager. She instead lived with a child pretending to be an adult for years, that was partly much more of an adult than she was, who did way to much work even before Jim became the Trollhunter. So she throws punishments at him and grounds him, but does he listen?

No. Cause why should he? Not only is he dealing with things much more important than being grounded, yknow, saving the world, he's trying to protect her from the sheer knowledge of the supernatural and physically protecting her from getting harmed. And again, for the majority of the time since his dad left he pretended to be an adult. He was and is the main adult in the household, dealing with important things she doesn't even know about.

The only one's treating Jim like a teenager are teachers, other children and Blinky and Aaargh sort of when they're not in the middle of Troll business. Strickler, in the first episodes where Jim doesn't know about his true identity, is much more of a parental figure to Jim (also after his redemption later on tbh) than his mother.

In summary: Barbara is treating her son like an adult, almost like a partner, instead of a child/teenager. And when that isn't possible anymore she doesn't know how to properly treat him. She also doesn't really care that her son is uncomfortable with her being around Strickler, or Strickler in general. And it takes Blinky telling her (when Jim is 16) that Jim might be affected by his father leaving when he was five years old.

Jim meanwhile is treating his mother more like a child/teenager instead of the adult and MOTHER that she is. Seeing her as his responsibility. Cooking for her. Cleaning for her. Telling her to rest and take breaks.

They obviously love each other other. And their relationship might not be toxic, but it's very much disfunctional. In a way that is mostly negative for Jim.

#toa #toa trollhunters #trollhunters #jim lake jr #jim lake junior #barbara lake #walter strickler #trollhunters strickler #tales of arcadia #blinky #aarghhh #trollhunters blinky #Barabara; just because Steves mother has a relationship with one of his teachers and it working out between him and her son #Doesn't mean it's gonna work out for you #If you're a parent and your child is uncomfortable with a partner of yours #YOU BREAK IT UP #Especially if your child is still living with you #Seriously #Okay I know trainer Lawrence probably only became Steves stepdad later in the series #And they also had to work some things out first #But at least they didn't try to kill each other and trainer Lawrence was actively trying to be a good parent/friend to steve #And don't get me started on “A vespa costs so much”: YOU'RE A DOCTOR #Don't know much about new jersey or wherever the show takes place but doctors earn good money almost everywhere #Especially with how much nightshifts and over time hours she has #Not being sure about your 16 year old driving I understand #But don't try to excuse it with money when you're obviously not poor and he's been wanting it for so long that you could've easily saved up #The money till his 16th birthday #Okay I ranted about this long enough #Also the fandom is dead so nobody will read this probably #Byeee

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fieldofdaisiies · 2 days

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azriel x eris | 3,2k words | warnings: domestic violence | masterlist

The chilling water laps against his skin, each splash sending a shockwave of icy cold through his body that slowly manages to cool down his overheated blood.

Tears mix with droplets of water on his face, tasting salty when they slip through his parted lips. His hair falls free from its restraint, the leather strap now somewhere discarded in the water.

In damp waves, his long auburn hair cascades down his back and toned chest. Eris dips his head under the water again, stays there for a moment, letting the cool liquid fully embrace him, hold him, until he appears above the surface and draws in a deep inhale, filling his lungs with the crisp air. He uses both hands to smooth back his hair, face turned skywards, eyes closed.

He is completely alone, nothing but silence surrounding him, but the shadowsinger’s voice is loud and clear within his mind when he is taken back in time. “Keep Morrigan‘s name out of your filthy mouth.”

That’s what Azriel told him after he had tackled him to the ground during the High Lord’s meeting before the war with Hybern. It had nothing to do with what Azriel said to him when he held him to the ground, the whole weight of the tall Illyrian pressing down on him, but the closeness of his body that made the bond snap in place for Eris.

Back then, Eris completed ignored the mention of Mor, his thoughts only swirled around the awareness that seeped into every fibre of his body, and the fear of anyone in the room finding out about it, scenting it — it would have been a catastrophe, and every day since the damn High Lord’s meeting he has been thanking the Mother that no one has figured out his biggest secret so far.

It happened the moment Azriel’s hands reached for him; the closeness of their bodies pulled a lever within him that made him see Azriel for what he truly was. His mate. For what he truly is. Nothing has changed. He hasn’t rejected the bond, and even if he did it wouldn’t change anything about the fact that Azriel is his—

Mate. How fucking twisted this all is, Eris thinks. No matter how hard he tries, he can't stop thinking about Azriel. The smell of the shadowsinger still lingers in his nose, and the skin where Azriel touched him still tingles from the soft caress of his callused hands. It feels like they're meant to be together, like two pieces of a puzzle fitting perfectly together. Two sides of the same coin - equals, a match that has been made for one another.

“Because that’s what it’s like when you have a fucking mating bond!”

With his loud and frustrated groan, he startles the ducks swimming nearby. They squawk and flap away, disturbed by the sudden loud noise.

He tries again to push Azriel from his mind, finally wanting to get rid of those thoughts that plague him, but he doesn’t manage to do so. Azriel gets under his skin so easily and Eris knows that despite the hate, his soul begs him to claim the shadowsinger as his.

He can’t ignore it any longer. Azriel is his mate, and nothing will change that, not even their hate for each other. He can’t stop thinking about Azriel, and when the shadowsinger is close, or worse, kisses him, his brain circulates short and all worries are forgotten. He just gives himself to the spymaster without a care in the world, until the moment is over and all the complications and regrets and worries crash down on him like an avalanche, snowing him under a large pile of problems amd remorse.

Eris slowly glides through the water until more and more of his pale skin is exposed to the chilly air, gooseflesh appearing all over his skin. His cock hangs heavy between his legs, throbbing with need, but he wouldn’t dare touch himself to the thought of Azriel — never would he do so. It would only give way to fantasies he tries so hard to avoid. It would give him hope, and Eris is not one to dwell on hope.

The Autumn court heir turns his head, and cranes his neck. He rolls back his shoulder. His eyes try to focus on a place in the distance, lids swollen and heavy.

Suddenly, he sees it bright and clear, though, almost like it is exactly the fateful day again —520 years ago— and it sends a bolt of icy cold right through his chest, almost like the blade of a dagger cutting into his heart.

“One of your Illyrian brutes will pick you up.”

Disdain laces his features when he stares down at her, all exposed and wounded skin. He isn’t disgusted about what she had done, how she had ruined their union, only about the measures her family has taken, what they had done to her.

“Thank y—” Morrigan‘s pale, dry lips close when Eris cuts her off by holding up his hand.

“Don‘t thank me. I only need to get rid of my garbage before it grows roots.”

Hurt flashes in the female’s eyes. The emotion is so strong, so pure, it wrenches Eris‘ heart. Nevertheless he needs to keep his mask on, needs to pretend to be exactly how everyone pictures him. Cruel. Lethal. Mean.

“Let me thank you, Eris.” Morrigan whimpers when she tries to move and Eris fights the urge to reach for her, take care of each of her wounds and tell her she will be alright. But this is not like him, this is not who he should be.

He shakes his head. “I’m not doing this for you, you are a slut and brought shame upon me and my family. I need to get rid of you as quickly as possible before more people hear about it or worse, see you like this.”

Despite all the pain, the shame, the cold, her brown eyes meet his and she clenches her jaw. She pins him with a look, grinding her teeth hard, to bite down on the sob that threatens to escape her. “You are not as bad as you make everyone believe, Eris.”

Eris demeanour threatens to falter for a second, but he doesn’t allow it. “Shut your mouth!”

“And your secret…it is safe with me.”

How would she—? How could she—? A kernel of anxiousness blooms in his chest about other people knowing. Someone else finding out. It is his secret, only his, how could she possibly—

His distress must have been obvious in his eyes, and Morrigan can read it all there and says, “My power is truth. You are just like me. We are more similar than you think.”

Fear turns into anger, and Eris spits onto the ground, right next to her head. “I‘m nothing like you. Because you are scum and a slut, and someone like me could never fall so low and hit rock-bottom so hard.”

Everything after it turned into a blur. Eris doesn’t remember much about what happened next, only Morrigan’s tears that ran down her cheeks, and so much blood. There was so much blood. All around her.

He knows that he stayed there, not with her but close by to make sure she really gets picked up and doesn’t die before. Azriel picked her up.

He swallows against a knot in his throat, there’s a dull ache at the back of his mouth. His eyes burn when he forces them close to clamp down on the tears. He lets the wind dry him (he has no towel after all), then dons his clothes – undergarments, shirt, breeches, jacket, socks and boots. And lastly, he ties his still damp hair back into a low ponytail with a new leather strap.

A cold huff parts his lips. All these years, and only Morrigan knows his secret. Azriel does know too, but only because of his actions, never because he talked about it. And Azriel only knows about Eris’ desire, not what he truly feels in his heart.

Eris finds himself wondering why Morrigan hasn’t told anyone. Maybe because she is afraid he will reveal her secret as well which makes him wonder…

The Night Court is probably equally traditional about such beliefs, not accepting them, not deeming them right. For that reason, he doubts that Azriel told anyone – the brute is probably equally ashamed of their interactions as he is.

Eris arrives in the Spring Court a few minutes later. Ignoring his original idea to ride here, he simply decided to winnow.

He finds himself standing in calf-high grass that reaches almost up to the edge of his boots. Using his hand, he shields his face from the burning sunlight when he takes in the building in front of him, veiled in ivy and roses that have lost their bloom. Nevertheless, they stretch across the whole front of the building, and probably all around.

Eris isn’t the biggest fan of Spring – not because of its ruler, but rather because everything blossoms and blooms, and there are bugs and bees everywhere, buzzing and humming. He prefers Autumn, loves Autumn more than anything else.

Eris rolls back his shoulders when he sets out for the ginormous building. He knocks, rasping his knuckles against the large white door, knowing it is useless anyway. He could have winnowed right into the building, but he is male with manners, he wouldn’t just march into Tamlin’s home like that.

No answer comes and so Eris slowly opens the door, revealing the corridor, only illuminated by a few strays of sunlight creeping in through the thick curtains that frame the windows. Cobwebs grace the walls and ceiling and a grimace tugs on the corners of Eris’ mouth.

The building has come down, Tamlin no longer taking care of it – he is a broken male, and it also shows in his home.

Eris lifts his hand to brush away some of the spiderwebs, grinding his teeth hard – he just dislikes those…insects.

Clearing his throat from all the dust and maybe also mould clogging it, he lifts his eyes and spots the blonde male, whom he once used to call a friend, through a half-open door at the end of the corridor. His head rests atop his arm on a table, his shirt is unbuttoned from what Eris can make out, and dirty.

Eris scrunches his nose, an awful stench lying in the air, reeking of dead animal. Eris fights against his grimace, and hopes that his loud footsteps and the creaking floorboards announce his presence and he doesn’t startle Tamlin too much.

He pities the High Lord of Spring, wonders if he will ever find his way back into life. After everything that has happened to him, Eris doubts it though. He wishes to aid the High Lord, but at the same time doesn’t know how – it isn’t his problem to deal with, but maybe once he is High Lord himself, he will find a way to support the male who used to be his friend in a time when no one else was. A male who gave his little brother shelter and who became a friend to Lucien when no one else was…

“Tamlin.” No formal greeting is necessary, Eris thinks, as the High Lord of Spring would in his desolate state not appreciate it anyway.

Tamlin lifts his head and turns to Eris, no hint of surprise on his face that the male is suddenly standing in his home – he must have heard him. A stubble graces his jaw, his eyes swollen and empty when they lock on Eris.

“Is it done? Are you here to deliver the happy message?” Tamlin wipes a bandaged hand through his hair, no longer golden, now greyish, matted, and straightens up. His shirt is indeed unbuttoned, and a slash reaches from his left pectoral down to his abdomen.

Eris raises his brow, but before he gives the High Lord an answer, he unlinks his hands from behind his back and points at the wound, leaking blood and puss. “Who did this to you?”

“Don’t act like you care.” Tamlin shakes his head, but then realises there is no point in arguing and so he points at the animal, probably a deer, lying on the kitchen counter. This animal must be the reason for the awful stench within the manor.

“But since you are so nosy, it didn’t really want to be caught.”

Eris bows his head in answer, then folds his hands behind his back again. “It is not done yet.”

Tamlin snorts. “Time to grow some balls then?”

“Tamlin, there is no need for you to be rude to me. I’m not your enemy and I have never been. I’m not here for any quarrel.” Eris takes another step into the room, closer to the High Lord of Spring. “I am here to ask a favour of you.”

The blond male raises a brow. “That is?”

“In case my brothers need a place to go…if things don’t go as planned…”

“They can come here.”

“Thank you.” Eris dips his chin, trying to hold Tamlin’s gaze, but the Spring Court male lifts his hand. Slowly, he shakes his head and Eris is sure he can spot some wetness appearing in Tamlin’s green eyes.

“Don’t thank me,” the High Lord says in a hoarse voice. “I failed Lucien and lost the only person who really cared about me, it’s the least I can do.” He clears his throat. “You can leave now, Eris.”

Eris understands his dismissal and respects it, out of politeness and gratitude. He dips his chin once more and pivots away from the High Lord. Eris is almost out of the door when he turns to look back over his shoulder.

Tamlin is still looking at him and then a smile appears on his lips, one that doesn’t reach his eyes, but it is a smile – something no one has really seen on Tamlin’s face in the past years. “Long may you reign, Eris Vanserra, future High Lord of the Autumn Court.”

Eris folds a hand over his heart and bows at the waist, gratitude visible within his amber eyes before mist starts to swirl around him.

He isn’t prepared for what awaits him at the forest house.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Only minutes later those same eyes that have formerly displayed gratitude now take in the cruelty of what has happened in the meantime in the Autumn Court, during his absence.

A shout splits his lips, one that he wanted to hold back but couldn’t, the sight too awful.

"That‘s your doing," Beron drawls, smirking when his eyes light up with venomous fire. "You brought this upon him."

Eris can only stare wide-eyed at his brother kneeling on the ground, the blood leaking from his mouth, the bruised eyes, the burned skin on his torso, his shirt ripped, burned.

Eris’ body feels like caving in, his entire being shaking so hard his head starts to feel dizzy. He can hear the blood rushing in his ears when he realises what has been done to his little brother. His jacket slips out of his hold, landing next to him on the ground.

"My second-oldest is a traitor just like my oldest." Beron tsks and before Eris can protect himself a flash of icy heat hits his arm and the side of his chest.

He falls to the ground, crying out from the pain erupting in his arm and in his kneecaps. It hurts so much, it hurts more than the lashes, the cuts, because Beron is now using his powers – the powers of a High Lord.

Despite the pain, Eris tips up his chin and clenches his jaw. He is stronger than this, and within him he already has the powers of the future High Lord. He won’t let his father win. Even if he can’t fight him right now, he won’t allow himself to show vulnerability.

“How–” he breathes, forcing his eyes to meet his father‘s, he allows him to see the disdain within them. The hate.

Beron stalks forward, not deigning his second oldest a look. Kallax has shifted a little, now leaning bloody and bruised against the wall, his gaze focused on Eris even across the distance. He keeps calm, his arm folded over his wounded chest and the sight of him shatters Eris’ soul. He has always tried to protect his brothers, has always taken the pain for him. This is upon him now. He brought Kallax into this situation.

Beron snorts, then tilts his head to the side. “How I found out about your secret little meeting?” the High Lord of Autumn tabs his index finger against his chin, then smiles wickedly.

Eris‘ chest heaves with a deep inhale, the gaping wound on his arm, aching fiercely. Beron only laughs when his eyes dip to his son‘s arm.

“I have spies in the war camps, and what a surprise that both my oldest and second oldest left at the same time and were nowhere to be found anymore.”

Panic sprouts to life within Eris’ chest, so strong his stomach coils, its content souring. Helpless. He feels helpless. Is helpless. It was all for nothing. Every damn thing he has done to bring him closer to ending Beron‘s life…it was all for nothing. It ends here. Nothing will ever change, not until Beron dies which now will probably never happen.

This is the end of the Autumn Court. This is the end of Prythian.

Bile crawls up his throat and before he can stop himself, he empties out his stomach onto the dark marble floor. Beron can only laugh at the sight of it, taking a step to the side, further away from the puddle of puke in front of his son.

He surrounds it, walking to Eris with fast steps. Another shock of icy heat hits him, this time in the from of Beron’s palm connecting with his cheek.

“Traitor,” Beron spits into his face, saliva flying from his mouth.

Eris hates himself more than anyone else in this moment. He has been too careless, too reckless in his endeavours. No fault falls upon Kallax, he must have broken under torture — he would never blame him for that. He brought his little brother into this, brought this upon him…

Beton crouches down when he is only mere inches away from his oldest. Lethal calm laces his features. He yanks back his head by grabbing a handful of his hair, then assess Eris, slowly but with a predatory gaze, eyes sharp and piercing.

“You thought you could go behind my back, huh?” Eris tightens the hold he has on Eris’ hair. “You thought I wouldn't notice that you are trying to remove the troops from the Summer Court border?” Beron clicks his tongue, his grasp tightening. “You thought they wouldn’t be necessary and that I am driven by fear and not in my right mind, is that right?”

Awareness fills his entire being and despite the pain a kernel of hope and thankfulness takes root in his heart.

Kallax lied for him.

Despite being punished and tortured, his brother lied for him.

“You are my brother, Eris,” he had told him. And meant it. Eris sucks in a sharp breath, but Beron isn’t done. The words that leave his mouth next make Eris throw up once more.

“Oh, and the pretty little spy of yours – what’s her name?” Beron tabs his index finger against his chin. “She can rot in the dungeons until she is ready to speak, which I won’t have to wait long for…faebane is a cruel thing, right my dear son?”

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general Azris tag list: @azrielsbabyg @lady-riel @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @brekkershadowsinger @ladyelain @banasheefan56 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @ofduskanddreams

#acotar #acosf #azriel #azriel x eris #azris #eris vanserra

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