#or he could be doing all the above to ignore how isolated and alone he has managed to make himself

[winterspixels]

[milswrites]

Hobbies Part 7.

~Azriel X Reader~

Summary: In an attempt to keep Azriel away from Elain, Rhys sends him on a sabbatical to the Day Court. With a lot more free time on his hands Azriel needs to find something to keep him occupied. Unfortunately he meets Y/N who has the annoying habit of not staying away. Can she teach him that there’s more to life than he thought?

Grumpy!Azriel X Sunshine!Reader

Series masterlist

Warnings: Angst and sadness :( Panic attacks

This was all wrong.

Cassian roared with laughter at a joke Feyre had told, his large hand beating against the table in glee causing the glasses to shake and plates to clatter. Rhysand was conversing eagerly with Amren and Mor, eyes twinkling above the rim of his glass of wine which was raised to his lips. Even Nesta had a content smile across her face as she bounced Nyx upon her lap as he gurgled happily at this action. And Elain. Elain was attempting to chat with Azriel about how her garden has been coming along since he left.

But Azriel felt like a ghost in his own home. He felt as if he was stuck in purgatory. His perfect life he’d always wished for was in the palm of his hands. Here surrounded by his family, past transgressions forgotten as he was able to talk to Elain again.

This was all wrong.

This was Ariel’s first full night back in his home court. Once Rhysand had made his presence known he had winnowed Azriel away instantly, eager for his brother to return home. The promise of Ariel’s belongings being brought to him the next day on his lips.

Shocked at the sudden reappearance of his brother Azriel didn’t know what to do or what to say. Wanting to give him time to readjust after being away Rhys had sent him to bed. To his bed, in his home. It was all too surreal to Azriel, as if it was all some dream he couldn’t wake up from. Only he couldn’t decide which was reality, Day or Night?

He had spent most of the following day dissociated and disoriented. Training with his brothers was a complete fail, he lacked both in focus and in presence. Cassian joked that it was all that Day Court air messing with his brain. Azriel laughed along with him but was sure it was due to the hole in his heart that felt like a missing limb.

Which is what led him to where he was now. At his celebratory return dinner with him family. He wondered if everyone there knew the true reason why he had been gone. Would they have been celebrating his return then? Or would they have let Rhysand leave him at the Day Court? Ashamed of their friend who had ignored Rhys’s wishes.

The Day court. The place Azriel hadn’t wanted to go to in the first place was now the place he found himself longing for. Y/N. Azriel’s stomach churned at the thought of her. What must she think? Azriel felt nauseous at the thought of Y/N waiting for the male at his door. Waiting for someone who would never come.

They had shared the most perfect night of his life, and then Azriel had left. It wasn’t until the morning after he returned back to his home that Azriel came back to reality long enough to find Rhys and begged him to let him go back. Rhysand must have thought it was some form of a mental breakdown after being separated from his family and entering a self-imposed form of isolation. He was afraid Azriel had grown too used to being alone.

Ever the concerned brother, Rhysand had gripped his shoulder and told Azriel that he was sorry. That he should never have sent him away and that he wouldn’t take control over his life again. Azriel had dismissed his brothers apology and asked once more to go back to the Day Court.

Rhys had assured him that he told Helion about his departure and how he wouldn’t return and then urged Azriel to go to training. To forget about the past and move on.

So now Azriel was here, surrounded by his family. Yet feeling more alone than he ever has. He stared at Elain next to him. Sweet Elain, who had worn her blue dress for the occasion of his return. Yet all Azriel could think was how much he wished for it to be Y/N in the dress he’s sure she made with him as inspiration.

“And then I planted some blue violets which just look wonderful next to-… Azriel? Are you ok?” Elain’s excitement at describing the new additions to her garden faded as she noticed the death-like look on Azriel’s face. Her descriptions reminding him of just last night when he had shared the Day Court garden with Y/N, the two admiring its existence. The memory he had sealed in his mind forever of Y/N surrounded by the vibrant life of the garden threatened to bring tears to his eyes.

His lack of an answer to Elain’s question had caused everyone else at the table to stop talking at look his way. A worried Rhysand tapped on his mental shields but Azriel refused to lower his wall, afraid if he were to allow Rhysand’s claws into his mind they’d tarnish his memories of Y/N forever.

Not wanting to be here, Azriel stood abruptly. His chair falling backwards onto the ground with a thud and drink spilling across the table. Red wine staining the pure white of the table cloth. Cassian who’s face was full of concern, also jumped to his feet and made to move towards his brother.

But Azriel not wanting the comfort that his family would offer him allowed his shadows to absorb him. They surrounded his body like a thick black cloak and swept him away. Taking their master back to where he needed to be. Back to the Day Court. The last picture his eyes saw was of his fearful family staring back at him, anxious for their friend and brother who did not return from his trip the same.

~~~~~

Azriel appeared at her door. Palms sweating and heart racing. It had only been a day. How mad could she be? Sure he should brace himself for a slap, he expected that she would even scream at him a little before she’d grow her beautiful smile back and invite him inside as she did last night. Jokingly berating him for his disappearing act.

He’d be able to apologise for the confusion, explain what had happened and how his brother had whisked him away. But all would be forgiven because Y/N would understand. She would be able to read Azriel just as she had from the moment she met him and tell he was being honest. He’d even tell her that he loved her, just so she knew how much she meant to him.

Hope in his chest, and excitement at seeing the women who had broken down his walls, Azriel knocked and waited.

Nothing.

Nothing was fine, the hour was late and Y/N was likely asleep. He debated sending his shadows inside to seek her out, to gently caress her arm and brush her face until she woke and felt the excitement of seeing them. That their presence meant that Azriel was here and she would rush to the door and into his waiting arms.

But Azriel was interrupted by a little old woman clearing her throat next to him, stopping his eyes from burning a hole in Y/N’s front door and drawing them to herself.

“She’s gone.” The woman said simply as she pottered to the door of the house next to Y/N’s, key rattling in hand.

“W-what?” Azriel asked in confusion, unsure what the woman meant, shadows freezing along with him as they waited to hear what she had to say.

“She left this morning with a lot of bags in tow. Said she’d be gone for a while. I don’t blame the poor dear the state she was in when she got back to her house earlier.” The woman let a sad smile cross her face at the memory of her younger neighbour’s frantic appearance as she entered her home with a sea of tears staining her face.

“What?” Azriel said once more, eyes stinging. He was too late. Y/N had gone. Gone where?

“Poor child was done with being alone that’s what I think. She deserves to find a life.” And with that the old woman entered her home leaving Azriel alone in the street, moonlight casting a haunted glow over Y/N’s empty home.

Neither Azriel or his shadows moved. Too stunned by the news to know what to do. How had everything fallen apart so quickly?

His chest became tight, the action of breathing causing him pain as he struggled to keep his shallow breaths even. His eyes blurred from his tears he dropped to his knees, hand pressed tightly against his racing heart in an attempt to slow the erratic beating. He felt as if he was dying.

Shadows coming to their senses they absorbed their master once more. Transporting him back to the Night Court. Back to his home which now felt strange to him, which felt like something was missing.

Azriel stayed in place wherever his shadows had taken him, knees pushing into the dirt on the ground. His ability to breathe forgotten as his head grew lighter and nausea crept up his throat. The constant flow of tears unceasing. A firm body crashed into his, pulling him into their arms. Through his clouded vision Azriel couldn’t make out who it was but he forced himself to summon the words to speak, “She’s gone” he choked, “she’s gone.” The arms around him drew him in tighter, pulling Azriel closer to their chest.

Azriel then felt Cassian’s long hair brush against his tear-stained cheeks. It was his brother who hugged him securely, his large hand bracing the back of Azriel’s head as he sobbed, “she’s gone” escaping his lips once more.

His eyes had cleared enough that Azriel could look past Cassian’s shoulder and he locked eyes with the blue violets Elain had told him she had planted.

His shadows had taken him to the Night Court’s garden but his heart longed for him to be in another.

Part 8

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

Notes: If you want to cry even more: blue violets represent the melancholy of lost love and abandonment :(

Taglist Part 1:

@minnieoo @thelov3lybookworm @going-through-shit @iluvyewman-blog @laughterafter @amysangel @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @justvibbinghere @honeybeeboobaa @willowpains @tele86 @mysticalfuncollectorus @mybestfriendmademe @starryhiraeth @gorlillaglue25 @moonlwghts @darling006 @anuttellaa @serendipityx150 @xxxalicerogersxx @that-one-little-soybean @scatteredstardustt @naturakaashi @nyx-the-alien @lostinpages13 @namelesssav @dreamlandreader @fightmedraco @maxmouse001

[finniestoncrane]

Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader, word count: 3k the night after cooper finds out about barb and vault tec he goes looking for something destructive to do. his plans were to get black out drunk, but then he finds you, and you're far more destructive 🤎 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: cheating/affair sort of (he's asked for a divorce but it is not official yet), hate fucking, hair pulling, angst, shame, rough sex

There was a brief moment where Cooper wondered if he actually wanted this. Any of it. A divorce. A reason for Barb to get angry back at him. But he'd already decided in his mind, even if his heart was a little bit behind. The second he had removed his ring, setting it on the dashboard as he gripped the steering wheel, he'd sealed his fate.

With a deep breath, he left the vehicle and made his way towards the entrance of the bar. An expensive place, one he could afford now but potentially not for much longer depending on how the alimony worked out. But for tonight, at least, he could afford to be Cooper Howard, the movie star. Buying rounds, sending drinks in lieu of actual flirting, letting his money speak for him. Hopefully, given the clientele, he might attract someone worth hating himself for.

Because that's what he was here for. Someone else. Someone to comfort him. He didn't want his friends. He didn't want Barb. He wanted someone he could pin his anger to, someone to do something reckless with. Someone that would help him to understand that his marriage was over. A misdeed that would secure his separation.

He couldn't burn the bridge alone. Someone else needed to be there to hold his hand.

As his palm pushed open the door he was assaulted by the noise, and then the smell. A cacophony of chattering, soundtracked by the loud and frenetic jazz coming from the band on the stage. A sniff of perfume, the assault of cigarette smoke, and a lingering hint of desperation. It bode well to know that there were others here in the same state of mind as he was. Despite having this in common, however, Cooper refused to mingle, at least not until he was sufficiently addled by a few drinks. So he walked past the crowds and the groups at tables, noting each person who turned to comment on his presence which was almost all of them, and pretending to ignore the loud remarks and gestures as he found himself a seat at the end of the bar.

The darkened corner suited him, a slightly hidden spot for him to search out his target, his prey. But distanced enough that people might not notice him, or at least they might leave him alone. He wasn't sure if he would back out of this yet, and the isolation gave him the option at least. Although, as the hour passed by, Cooper felt distinctly lonely, a little bit put out by the lack of attention he had received. Even the bartender, who Cooper was sure had the look of a man who enjoyed a good Western, hadn't recognised him.

So when he noticed you staring, an attempt to surreptitiously confirm who you thought he was, his heart thumped, pathetically grateful for the morsel of attention you were offering him. He held back though. Nothing, he reasoned, would stink of desperation like speaking first, confirming that he was indeed the Cooper Howard to someone who might not know who he was, but just happened to find him attractive. But you were equally nervous, afraid to say anything to someone so far above your station. An actual movie star, and one you'd harboured a crush on to boot.

He was alone, but maybe that's how he wanted to be. What would you say to him anyway? How would you approach him? What did you expect was going to happen? He was a married man, you knew that from his interviews.

But there was no ring on his finger.

Rumours of Hollywood sham marriages, attempts to hide sexualities or proclivities that were a little too out there for mass consumption, but Cooper had always seemed so in love with his wife. Maybe he was a greater actor than you thought. Or maybe you'd caught him at his most vulnerable. Either way, you weren't brave enough to make the move, so with a sheepish smile towards the bar tender, you lifted your drink and began to walk away.

Realising that he was missing his chance at the only person who had looked his way since he had sat down at the bar, Cooper spoke suddenly, not even aware that he'd begun speaking until he could hear his own voice.

"You know, that tastes a lot better neat."

As you turned you pressed on your best smile, watching it melt away into a lopsided grin as his own smile took your breath away. You made an attempt to push away the immediate anxiety you felt from knowing that Cooper Howard himself was addressing you and looked at your glass.

"Are you sure?"

He raised his hands, opening himself up to you.

"I swear, I wouldn't lie to you."

He spoke so softly, an instant relaxation warming you as his charm put you at ease.

"Here, let me buy you another. And this time, you can drink it the right way."

It felt a little bit like a power move, but the way he winked made you feel ok with it. It was playful, mischievous, and maybe just an excuse to talk to you. And it worked. Once you had your drink he offered you the seat next to him and for the next hour you found yourself talking to him effortlessly. There was something so easy about him, like he had enough confidence to share, enough pull and magnetism that you felt like you were the only two people in the world. But there was still something holding you back.

Even with the flirtatious back and forth, the little movements of his hand against your thigh, his eyes lingering on your lips as he spoke to you, there was a block there. And you decided it was worth asking.

"Ok then, Mr Howard. You said you wouldn't lie to me, so I have a question for you."

His soft brown eyes focused on your own, watching you with a calm smile as he nodded to you.

"What's with the tan line? No ring? Is this... what is this?"

It felt completely invasive, but at the same time, you knew you owed that much to yourself. And to his wife. And to Cooper. But the guilt settled in immediately as his smile turned into a pained expression. Cooper stayed silent for a minute, sipping his drink and avoiding eye contact. But eventually, with a deep sigh, he spoke.

"It's over. That's what it is.

"Oh, god... Cooper, I'm so sorry."

Your cheeks felt warm, embarrassment at your social faux pas spreading through you.

"If there's anything I can do..."

It took a moment for you to register your own movements, but when you realised your hand had fallen to his thigh you chose to wait for him to move it away. When he didn't, you let your fingers squeeze the limb, emphasising the meaning behind your words as if there had been any doubt as to what you were alluding to. You were braver now, three drinks in, and he had given you the go ahead to flirt throughout your conversation. With his permission, his consent, there wasn't much that could stop you now. Especially not when he finally spoke, drawing his eyes from your fingers to your own gaze.

"Well, now that you mention it..."

Cooper placed his hand over yours, his eyes boring into you. As you looked back into them you could see that they were sad, something glimmering behind them that told you how tired he was, how much he was aching. But beyond that, there was something pleading, begging you. He needed a little bit of attention, of something good to keep him going. So you grabbed his hand, fingers entwined together, and you pulled him out of the stool, waiting for him to toss down more than enough cash to settle his bill, and led him out of the bar.

Outside, Cooper began guiding you instead, tugging your hand towards his car.

"You're drunk, Mr Howard. I don't think you should be driving."

He stopped for a moment before stepping closer to you, his hands gliding around your waist and settling at your back as he pulled you into him.

"I agree, I can't drive. But I'm not drunk. I don't want you thinking that I don't know what we're doing here. I'm very aware. Are you?"

With a smile, you leaned in to kiss him, lips meeting his with a sharp inhale as you realised what you were doing. He was kissing you back, though, assuaging your concerns that you were overstepping his boundaries, or setting yourself up for embarrassment by thinking that someone like him would be interested in a stranger in a bar. As you pulled back, he grinned.

"I'll take that as a yes, then, shall I?"

You nodded, raising your hand and waving to one of the cabs in the rank outside of the bar and taking Cooper's arm as you walked towards the one at the front. Ever the gentleman, he remained polite and civil in the back of the cab. It was only a short distance, anyway, and the driver insisted on spending the journey telling Cooper how much he loved his last film, asking when he'd see him again on the big screens. And Cooper avoided any definitive answers, maintaining an air of gratitude despite the tell-tale expression of disappointment he wore on his face. Still, he tipped generously when they exited the cab, shrugging his shoulders at you as he opened your door and walked you up the steps to his apartment. He stopped at the front door though, pausing for a moment, as though he were reconsidering everything. And afraid that that was exactly what was happening, you took the opportunity when it presented itself, lunging into a kiss when he turned to speak to you.

It worked, knocking him back against the wall, silencing him from whatever he might have been about to say. Instead of hesitation, he was now focused on the moment, his hands tracing your sides, gripping at you as he caressed your body, exploring it, new and exciting. Only when he ran out of breath did his palms find your shoulders, pushing you off slightly, but keeping his fingers tensed so you couldn't get away.

"I assume that means you will join me for a drink inside?"

You barely managed to nod before he had grabbed you once more, his hand flung clumsily around your waist, free hand working his key into the door and fumbling with the knob. Once you were inside, he wrapped both arms around you, keeping you to him as he kicked the door closed and walked you to the bedroom. No drink. No sofa. No chit chat while he waited to loosen you up a bit more. Cooper wanted you to have your wits, to be able to consent to this. He didn't want to make this mistake any worse than it already was.

As you made your way to the bedroom, Cooper began grabbing at your clothes, pulling hard enough to let you know how desperate he was, but gentle enough that he wasn't about to ruin anything you had on. You tried to express your gratitude, to confirm your enthusiasm for what you were sure was coming next as his hands caressed you lips grazing over your neck hungrily, but you found it hard to catch his eyes.

In fact, since entering his apartment, you'd found it hard to make any eye contact with him, as if he was avoiding it for some reason.

And he was. Cooper was well aware of your efforts to catch his eye, knowing that it might provide you with some comfort but unable to afford it to you. He was too full of hate, angry at himself for going through with this, angrier still for wanting it, wanting you. If he stopped for a moment and let that feeling sink in, let your eyes see behind his and into his pained soul, then neither of you might have the stomach to continue. But he needed it. He needed to feel the heat of desire, the warmth of another person, the self-congratulatory pride of orgasm.

With his lips firmly pressed to your throat, tongue lapping out over your skin in intermittent flicks, he brought his hands to your waist and sat down, pulling you with him, resting you on top of his body as he sank into the mattress.

"You ok... with this?"

He sounded nervous, his voice quiet and low, almost shaking. It could have been excitement, perhaps anticipation of what you were about to do, but it felt like the unmistakeable shudder of fear that lingered below the deep tone of his words.

"Of course. Of course."

With that, he rolled you over onto your back, quickly settling himself on top of you. His eyes still avoided yours, but it wasn't bothering you all that much now that his hands were skating over your sides, his lips peppering gentle kisses over your exposed skin as he undressed you, his hands fumbling with his own shirt and pants until you were writhing together, entirely unclothed. The sweet sting of whisky on his breath, the dark musk of his nervous sweat mingling with your own scent as you became one on top of the sheets.

Each kiss felt almost deranged. Angry, passionate, hungry. Lips that dragged down over your skin, teeth that were bared, scraping over you. His fingers, ghosting over your chest, circling your nipples until he pinched at them softly, then firmer, releasing the grip only when you hissed, wincing slightly at the dull ache.

He was considerate. And that at least calmed some of your nerves as you considered what you were in for when he decided to start fucking you. You'd only managed to steal glances at his body, his firm chest, surprisingly toned abdomen, and the worryingly large, fully erect cock that pressed against you.

"You look nervous?"

He followed your gaze, glancing at his own length before giving you a slick smile.

"Don't think about it too much, it's not so bad. In fact..."

His fingers dug into your waist, rolling you over under him until you were on your stomach, legs spreading in anticipation of his cock. Cooper retrieved some moisturiser from the drawer at the side of the bed, not exactly a good substitute for lube, but you weren't about to question him. You waited patiently, instead, quiet except for the small mewl you gave as he pressed the tip of his dick between your folds and lowered his body onto yours.

With a soft roll of his lower body, he inserted more of himself into you, an immediate filling sensation dulling your other senses, your eyes half-lidded as you focused on letting him enter you as completely as he wanted to.

The gentle pace didn't last long, however. The moment he felt your walls cling to him, the feeling of his head hitting the furthest point in you, he begun to rut wildly. You were wincing in pain, moaning in pleasure, allowing yourself to be flattered by the fact that you felt so good that he was struggling to control himself.

But the animalistic way he had begun to pound you was less an expression of arousal and more out of anger. He was full of it. Anger for Barb for what she had done, for what she had made him do. Anger for himself, for stooping to this level, for not seeing the truth sooner. Anger for you, because you were letting him fuck his emotions into you, every aggressive thrust of his cock a little bit of relief from the pain and misery he felt, but only for the split second afterwards, because then it came back ten-fold. It was a vicious cycle, one he could get addicted to, pummelling himself into your open, willing cunt over and over, just to briefly rid himself of the feeling of loneliness and misery that surrounded him.

He ran his hand up your spine, tangling his fingers in your hair before he pulled your head back. Your body arched a little, raised off the mattress as you hissed in pain. He didn't let up though, in fact, as he saw his wedding ring glinting though the strands of hair wrapped around his fingers, he only got rougher.

Cooper's eyes drifted backwards, and when he pulled himself back to focus, he caught a glimpse of the photo of Barb on the dresser, a memento he'd taken from the house he once shared with her. Shifting his attention to something else, anything else, he found a spot of damp on the wall, yet another thing to add to the list of shit in his new apartment. He stared at it intensely as he rammed his hips into your body, pushing the rage and dissatisfaction out of him, letting it fill you instead.

That notion, the idea of getting rid of his bad feelings, of depositing them inside of you instead to keep them for him, had a profound effect on his psyche, an instant relief, and one that he felt physically too. His cum, warm, copious, drained inside of your welcoming cunt, walls painted white, inner thighs dripping in him as he pulled out and lay down on the bed with panting breaths.

When he rolled onto his side, you did the same, facing away from him, unsure of what he wanted you to do now. He hadn't asked you to leave, but he hadn't asked you to stay either.

You got your answer, however, when you'd moved away from him a little bit, trying to give him space, and he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you back to him. It was so obvious to you that he wasn't sure what it was that he wanted, or what he needed, but whatever it was, you were grateful to have the opportunity to offer it to him.

[queenvhagar]

While I really do love the early idea of Rhaenicent as in a young Rhaenyra and young Alicent have a very close, quasi-romantic, deeply meaningful bond in their early years, at a certain point it just becomes one-sided, and at a further point in the story, it becomes unrealistic and unreasonable.

Once Viserys announces his intent to marry Alicent, and she of course has to accept because her father and the king tell her she must, and she's a young daughter of a second son in a feudalist monarchy, it's like a switch has flipped for Rhaenyra in that past this moment no amount of effort on Alicent's part can do anything. From that moment, the relationship is just Alicent giving, giving, and giving to Rhaenyra until ultimately she has nothing left to give.

Alicent tries for years to mend the relationship between them and foster a positive relationship between herself, Rhaenyra, and her children. As her father is pushing for Aegon as heir, Alicent instead praises Rhaenyra and defends her to her own father, her husband and king, and the ladies at court. She proclaims that Rhaenyra would be a great ruler and goes out of her way to support her. She convinces the king to let Rhaenyra embark on a kingdoms-wide tour to personally select her own match among hundreds of suitors, something literally no other noble woman has ever had the opportunity to do before. She comforts Rhaenyra about the prospect of getting married and having children. She takes Rhaenyra's word and defends her against allegations that could have her disinherited and exiled, as it did Saera Targaryen, defying her own father and standing up to the king, even at the expense of her own father being sent away from court and her isolation in the Red Keep. Time after time over literal years Alicent gives to Rhaenyra and tries to mend the relationship, despite having done very little herself to merit any huge attempt at reconciliation with her.

And what does Rhaenyra do with all of this? From the moment her father announces his intent to marry Alicent, the relationship is dead to her. Her first reaction, despite recognizing Alicent's powerlessness in the situation, is to call her a whore. She spends years ignoring Alicent's attempts to mend the relationship, only interacting with her to passive aggressively reference Alicent's new position as queen. She refuses to interact with her half-brother, a literal baby, insisting he is just "Alicent's son" and therefore only a threat to her. She insults everyone at Aegon's birthday party, yells at the king in front of the court about how she thinks she's above duty and tradition, and storms off into the woods overnight, only to return covered in blood giving Alicent and her toddler a death glare. After being given an extended tour to choose a match thanks to Alicent's influence with the king, she returns and almost immediately makes fun of how romantic Alicent's situation is of being forced to be a broodmare locked away in a castle. She throws away her chance at picking her marriage by being seen in a brothel with her uncle. She lies on her mother's grave to take advantage of Alicent's support for her and cover her own ass which results in Alicent being left all alone in the Red Keep (and after this conversation she goes back to acting like Alicent means nothing to her).

Alicent gives, and Rhaenyra takes. Until Alicent just cannot keep giving. Then, once the giving stops, the narrative wants her to be seen as this ultimate villain. She's evil for not giving to Rhaenyra again and instead refusing to marry Helaena to Rhaenyra's bastard son (a desperate proposal to try to cover her own ass that would've made Helaena a political hostage when the bastard issue would eventual boil over). She's evil for not giving to Rhaenyra and instead showing anger when Rhaenyra's sons attack Aemond and cut out his eye and Rhaenyra demands that Aemond be punished. She's evil for not giving to Rhaenyra and instead supporting a Velaryon who is rightfully upset that Rhaenyra's bastard son is usurping his throne. And she's evil for ruling the kingdoms with the Hand of the King while Viserys is dying and Rhaenyra is off living unbothered on Dragonstone (and not "giving" Rhaenyra the responsibilities as heir she already should have been doing on her own).

I understand the young love was once there, and for even longer, Alicent alone seems to have been trying to restore that relationship, despite her relative powerlessness as a non-Targaryen in the Red Keep. But at a certain point, when someone has repeatedly treated you like you were nothing to them, when someone has repeatedly used you for their own benefit and then tossed you aside, when someone takes advantage of you and takes you for granted so many times, when someone shows you they will throw you and yours under the bus so easily to save their own skin and shows you they cannot be trusted to show any concern about your well-being...

At some point that affection is realistically and justifiably lost. It would certainly be gone after Driftmark. There is no world where Alicent could consider the relationship mendable past then (and thus no world where she actually means what she says at the dinner). And it is appalling to see that somehow despite it all the writers seem to want us to believe that after Blood and Cheese - Helaena's sanity destroyed, Alicent's young grandson slain in cold blood, all in Rhaenyra's name - that somehow Alicent holds out hope of rekindling lost love with Rhaenyra. Not when Rhaenyra has only ever taken from her. Not when Rhaenyra has never supported Alicent or her family in any meaningful way.

Alicent is not so desperately sabotaging to herself and her family that she would yearn to rekindle a situationship she had briefly literal decades ago and that she tried for years to fix to no avail. It's over. As it should be. Anything else is character assassination and some poor attempt at depicting the Alicent of the show as some peaceful martyr to a "feminist" queen who should be revered because *checks notes* a prophecy and white stag shows that she is pure, righteous, and has divine right to rule so she can do no wrong and anyway apparently *checks other notes* Alicent's son is a drunken r*pist who assaulted an original character created by the writers to make him look worse than Rhaenyra.

[sparklingcid3r]

wut did the convo between darry and child services go like? obvi was complicated but like genuinely how did he convince them he could b the guardian of 2 teenage boys? he genuinely must have nerves of steel.

also like must have been the worse adjustment if he always confided in paul or his dad when stressed, but now has no one. like his just isolation from any close relationship is soooo noticeable, esp compared to his brothers who actively lean on their best friends

just ignore that this might end up horribly inaccurate🙏 i’m here for a good time alr leave me alone😭 but fr darry was going through the traumas of odysseus on his voyage back to ithaca when he should have been getting lit at the club😔

Darry’s shell shock looks a whole lot like numbness. That’s how he feels, too, so when the same officers who just told him they’re very sorry, but his parents have been killed in an accident, he just stares and hears them iterate for him what exactly he needs to get done immediately. He forces himself to actually listen, because this isn’t about him, it’s about Pony and Soda and keeping a roof above their heads.

He needs to locate his ma and dad’s birth certificates and legal documents to have their wills probated and assets distributed, schedule an appointment with the funeral director, schedule a date for the funeral itself, meet with the court to be appointed Pony and Soda’s legal guardian, but that’s only after they deem him fit to be the sole caretaker of two teenagers. They’ll assign them a case manager. They’ll ask him what his salary is, they’ll call his old coaches to ask about his time management and self-discipline—what if he comes up short in some way? What if he makes a mistake and gets his brothers thrown in a home?

Fuck, then there’s the personal arrangements. He needs to call the college dean and tell him extraordinary circumstances have forced him to drop out, probably he’ll still have to pay for the rest of the semester he didn’t get to finish. When the case manager comes over for their meeting—the house is a mess from Darry’s birthday party, they’ll think Darry is okay with raising his brothers in filth. Something about bank statements too, he’s sure he’ll have to go over it, see what his parents have been paying for, what he’ll need to pay for and what he has to cut now that money’s about to be tighter. Bills, taxes, he needs to draw up a system to distribute those payments overdue or not. Groceries, do they need to go shopping soon? With what money? With Darry’s money, he needs to get a job now.

Darry gets to work.

Identifying the bodies is the first thing he does. He lets Steve and Johnny stay over to keep Pony and Soda company. Two-Bit offers to come with Darry to the hospital, but he refuses. When he gets to the hospital, he sees Dally standing at the entrance, cross-armed and stone-faced. He doesn’t even look at Darry when he arrives. Just pushes himself off the pillar and shrugs. “Your call.”

Darry says nothing, so Dally follows him in. The police lead him to the morgue. The sheets are carefully folded back to reveal their faces, and Darry’s stomach heaves and his eyes blur. His parents are shredded. They’re just bodies, sliced, crushed bodies. He doesn’t even realize he stumbling until a steeled hand grabs him and keeps him upright, and Dally’s saying “Easy, easy, man. Breathe, Darrel. That them?”

Darry nods. All he’s think is that it’s going to be a closed casket funeral.

The wills are the next thing he deals with. Once those are probated and the surrogate has deemed them official, Darry is free to pay the fees and obtain his inheritance, as well as transfer his parents’ money to his name in the bank.

Next, Darry searches for a job. Something physical, or something to do with numbers. He was going to be an accountant after all, might as well make some use of the few months he spent studying. After busting his ass hunting and applying, he lands a job at Fitzmorris Roofing and starts as soon as he can. The pay is decent, but not enough, so he keeps looking. Eventually he finds out about a firm at the edge of town looking for a bookkeeper, so Darry goes in for an interview and walks out with his second job.

Then are the bank statements. Darry gets issued a copy of his parents’ bank statements from the previous month and spends entire nights going through them. After crunching the numbers twice, he finds out that in two months from now, they’ll have to go without paying the electricity bill for a few weeks while Darry’s paychecks catch up with expenses. Better than going hungry. They’ll just have to deal with the dark.

So far, they’ve been feeding off the numerous donations from families around town. Lasagnas and casseroles and meatloafs, that’s what they’ve been pushing around their plates for the past two weeks. Darry surmises they have about one more week to make those last, then he’ll need to crack open a cookbook or two.

He meets with the funeral director. He advises Darry on what graveyard to pick, what kinds of caskets to hold the bodies in, how much of the burial will be covered by insurance. All Darry understands is that this is money he’ll need to cut from their budget. It eats at him.

Darry blinks and a week has gone by.

He doesn’t really remembering seeing Pony and Soda during it. Everything’s a blur. But he looks at a calendar and realizes with a seize of his heart that their case manager is supposed to meet them for the first time in—an hour and a half.

Shit, he hasn’t even gotten to cleaning the house yet. There’s laundry on the fucking couch, for Christ’s sake. Darry snatches it up and bangs down Soda and Pony’s door, dumping it on the bed. He sees a lump under the blanket and a jolt rocks him—that’s your brother, that’s Ponyboy, he’s grieving, he’s in pain, he needs help—but all he can do is kick the mattress and tell him, “On your feet, Ponyboy, Mrs. Mulligan’ll be here for dinner.” Pony doesn’t move, but there’s nothing else Darry can do, so he rips the blanket off Pony and leaves, slamming the door behind him because his own strength has become unfamiliar to him.

Soda’s in the backyard doing whatever the hell Soda’s been doing while Darry was out, and he’s called in but he comes trailing in like a wet dog. Darry doesn’t know what he’ll do if this meeting doesn’t go well, if Mulligan says Darry is not suited to provide for his brothers, how he’ll possible be able to live by himself knowing his brothers have been separated, so he snaps for Soda to stand up straight and fix his hair. Soda looks at him blankly, and again there’s a voice in Darry’s head—Sodapop’s not alright, he’s not talking, he’s not smiling, he’s not laughing, you have to fix this—but all he can say is “Now, dammit” and hits the countertop, spooking Soda enough to get him to flee, and Darry’s alone again, cleaning the table of the bills and documents, pushing them on top of the icebox and out of sight.

Darry’s prepped one of their last donated meals, macaroni salad, and set the table as nice as he can.

Fifteen minutes before Mrs. Mulligan arrives, he checks in on Pony and Soda. He stands outside their door, hand raised to knock, but he can hear them talking.

Talking about him.

“He’s gone crazy, Soda, I swear. When’s the last time you saw him stand still for two seconds? If you’ve seen him at all.”

“Dunno, Ponykid.”

“I miss Ma. I miss her and Dad. It’s like Darry hasn’t even noticed they’re gone.”

“Naw, baby, don’t say that. He’s trying, I think. He’s trying awful hard. We just don’t see it.”

“You don’t even know that. What if he’s making plans to shove us in a boys’ home?”

Darry can’t take it. His breath is lodged in his throat, but he can’t go falling apart right now, not when he’s come this far and still has a long way to go. He just knocks and calls them out to the living room.

Darry can’t meet their eyes when they sit in the living room. Pony’s lean on Soda’s shoulder but Darry can’t think about that, he’s got to put the macaroni salad in a bowl and clean off the utensils and “Pony, I told you to wash the dishes this morning.” With his back turned to his brothers, Darry winces. Anger never used to seep out this easily. But everything was enough of a threat to push him over the edge. Everything everyone said to him pierced him like a hook, made his tongue feel heavy and his blood feel hot. He needed to put a lid over it tonight.

Mrs. Mulligan’s eyes don’t rise to Darry’s when he opens the door for her. She looks behind him at their living room, at Soda and Pony on the couch, makes a funny noise in the back of her throat, then extends her hand out to Darry. Immediately Darry knows he’s going to be on the defensive the entire night. This woman does not approve of where Soda and Pony are being raised. Whether that means she doesn’t approve of the East side as a location or Darry as a guardian, he isn’t sure.

She drills him, but it’s disguised as gentle. Darry does everything slowly. Serving the food, making small talk, discussing Pony and Soda’s grades. Mulligan switches to speaking directly to the boys, and Darry’s not hungry, but he pretends to enjoy chewing the rubbery macaroni and keeps his head down.

Despite their reservations about life without their parents, Soda and Pony defend Darry to the case manager. It goes smoothly enough that she leaves Darry with a smile and a promise to stay in touch.

When the door clicks shut, Pony is gone in the blink of an eye back to his room. Soda just stalks into the kitchen and starts wrapping up leftovers, cleaning off the dishes. Darry tries to get Soda to sleep, but Soda turns to him.

“I’ll do the dishes, Darry. Just don’t get mad at Pony.”

“No, Soda, I’ll do it—“

“You’re tired, Darry. Let me be useful?”

Soda always knew how to spin the conversation in his favor. He was right. Darry was tired. He was just… tired.

But there’s a reason Darry hasn’t given himself a restful night yet. He doesn’t trust himself yet.

“Give me the sponge, Sodapop. Pony needs you.”

Darry’s had sixteen years to learn how to outmaneuver his kid brother. He’s not in the mood to fight fair.

Soda concedes and draws away from the sink, but he lingers in the doorway. “We need you, too, Darry.”

“I know. I’ll be here in the morning.”

He wouldn’t be. He’d be gone by the time they woke up, on top of a roof with bundles of roofing slung over his shoulder, but it wasn’t his physical presence that mattered. He was going to keep their heads above water, no matter what it took.

“When’s the funeral?” asks Soda.

“Friday.”

Two days. Two days until it was official and their parents were covered in dirt. Darry just needed to keep it together until then.

“G’night, Darry.”

“G’night.”

When the funeral comes, Darry’s quiet. Pony and Soda are weeping, unashamed by it, so Darry’s the one people feel comfortable giving their condolences to. He shakes a lot of hands, feels disgusted by it, like he’s collecting germs and other people’s bad luck. The gang is there, even Dally, but they hang in the back of the crowd, discounting Two-Bit, who’s up front with his ma and sister.

After Darry gives the eulogy he doesn’t remember writing, he watches twin caskets get sunk into the ground, dirt spilling on top of them, and Darry is officially alone. He leaves the ceremony, goes and sits down on a bench outside the fencing.

Not yet. Don’t break yet.

A shadow falls across his own. Dally’s taking drags from a cigarette at his side. He’s just as quiet as Darry, but offers the cancer stick. Darry accepts it, taking a few puffs. He’s out of practice and coughs the first time. Dally just pats his back and waits for him to try again. It feels good, but not the kind of good Darry knows he can depend on. He’s still got to stay healthy if he’s going to be trudging around in the sun for half his day and sitting around doing math for the other half.

“Do what you gotta do, as long as it’s nothing permanent,” Dally says.

“Couldn’t if I wanted to,” Darry replies, handing back the cigarette. His eyes sting.

It’s like the world’s stopped rotating after his parents are put to rest. Not when Darry actually expected it to. He closes the door to his parents’ bedroom, the room he’s been sleeping in for the past… however long it’s been.

He doesn’t even make it to the bed. The moment the door’s locked behind him, Darry’s loosening his dad’s tie from his neck, yanking at his dad’s collar to untighten his airways, but it doesn’t work. He slumps against the door and slides down, messing up his hair and crying into his arms, only as hard as his silence will allow. Pony and Soda are in the next room over, still teary, consoling each other. Darry won’t steal their reprieve.

He falls apart alone, wondering how he’s meant to wake up tomorrow in a world he doesn’t want to live in. And when he picks himself up and puts himself back together, he’ll do that alone too. He doesn’t have a choice.

istg sometimes yall just gotta LET ME COOK 👩‍🍳 can u tell i got super into it the longer i went on for lmao

oh btw this doesn’t scratch the surface of everything darry prob needed to do. he would have had to choose what his parents wore in their caskets, dealt with the scrapping of the car, assumed responsibility of the real estate deed (the house), communicated with pony and soda’s high school, communicated with his parents’ former employers, etc etc. the break was uncatchable i fear

[dancingdonatello]

Hello! I love your work! I was wondering if you could possibly do an au for a girl being the human sister of the turtles, and since Splinter wants her to learn and be around her own kind a little more he has her go to high school, (against all four brothers wishes) so the go out to spy in her to make sure everything is alright and at the end of the day she meets a guy who ask her out and they all fume over it? It’s fine if you don’t want to! No pressure. ❤️

rottmnt x sister reader

“It’s time,” Splinter announced.

Everyone froze.

It had been a chill day in the lair. Everyone was hanging out in the living room. Splinter had been watching his commercials, Leo reading his comics, Raph watching football on his phone, so everyone was doing their own thing.

So it was very abrupt and frightening for Splinter to speak up and randomly say that.

“What?” Raph finally spoke up for all of you. Mikey slid into your side nervously. “What are ya talkin’ about, pops?”

“What we’ve been discussing for the past year.”

“You mean arguing about?” Donnie asked dryly.

“Tomato, tomato, Purple.” Splinter looked at you and you slid down against the couch nervously. “It’s time for you to go to High School.”

“No!” Leo wailed, throwing his arms around you. “I won’t let you take her!” He started to hiss at Splinter who looked at him with an unamused look.

“If she gets to go to school, then I should be able to, too!” Donnie complained, clearly more upset about a different aspect to this than what his brothers were upset about.

“You can’t!” Raph nervously waved his hands around. “Think of all the thugs in there! Is a public school? A private school? Where? What’s the crime rate in the area?! We won’t be there to protect her!”

“It’s safer to be in a school than a sewer,” Splinter rolled his eyes. “Think of all the diseases down here.”

“Hey! I keep it clean!” Donnie argued.

“No, you don’t. Your robots do.”

“Shut up, Leo—”

“Anyways. Your opinions don’t matter. Only mine does,” Splinter announced, ignoring how the shouting of his sons only grew louder at that. “In two weeks is the first day of school.”

You swallowed nervously.

Donnie had kept you up to what your age should know. Math, science, etc. So you would be fine with that. But you wouldn’t know anyone. Not a single person there, except for April. And everyone already knew everyone.

You were nervous. This made your brothers nervous.

For two weeks, the nervous energy built up.

When you went to school you were shaking.

You went through most of your classes barely speaking. You felt as if shadows were following you and you kept thinking people were whispering your name. But nobody knew it, so that was impossible, right?

Leaving your second to last class, in a isolated part of the school, you were quickly stopped by someone grabbing your arm.

“Hey…” You jumped and the ceiling creaked above you ominously. “Are you new?”

You turned to see a guy, maybe one from your class you just came from. You two were alone in the hall and you grew nervous.

“Uh, yeah!” Cute boy. Cute boy. Cute boy. You panicked. Oh god. “Uh. Yeah.” You were an idiot.

“Kinda rough how he’s already giving us a test, right? Did you study?”

“No,” you lied. Why did you lie?

“Me neither!” He laughed. What a win. “Wanna go study with me while eating some icecream?”

Your eyes widened. “Yes—”

Raph’s claws punctured the ceiling tile. What had been barely holding his weight snapped, sending all four turtles crashing through the ceiling, crushing the guy underneath the rubble.

You stared at your brothers and they stared back.

“Oh my god,” Mikey breathed out. “We killed him.”

“No, we didn’t. We likely concussed him and knocked him out.” Donnie rolled his eyes. “He deserves it anyways.”

“How about instead of chatting and standing there, get off of him!” you screamed at them. They scrambled off of him and Raph picked the poor guy up. He limply flopped like a wet noodle. “Guys?!”

“I’ll leave him outside there nurse’s office…” Leo reluctantly sighed, opening a portal. Raph carelessly threw the boys through the portal.

“Raph?!”

“What?” he asked innocently.

“Get out of my school!”

They ‘left’ and continued to watch you from the ceiling.

At least no school day could be worse than this one. It could only be uphill from there.

[ursa-tan]

Pervert König part 2; he's just constantly trying to get away with staring and touching y/n, to the point where they try to have a quickie on a mission that almost goes wrong? Just an idea-

How kinky can he get?…

König x reader

Requested

Part 1, Part 2

After your little fiasco, he can’t help but try and get his hands on you any chance he gets… it nearly goes badly.

Reader uses callsign blue because I couldn’t think of anything else… I’m writing this at 2:37am where I am, cut me some slack

König has been relentless since you invited him to your room. Wondering hands and eyes becoming ceaseless when he thinks no one is looking. It doesn’t help that you’ve been left alone together, isolated on the roof of a building.

“How copy Blue?” Price’s voice calls through your comms, forcing you to remove one hand from the sniper rifle to answer. It unsteadies the gun slightly, but you manage.

“All clear up here Captain. Target not yet spotted.” Its a standard response that conveys everything anyone would need to know.

“Good. We’re still scouting on the ground, we’ll let you know if we see anything,” Price replies, talking about him and Gaz. Soap and Ghost were off somewhere else, but knowing the Lieutenant, everything would be fine.

“Mein schatz…” König mumbles. He’s laying on his stomach beside you, not paying attention to the gun he seemed so desperate to hold not even that long ago. “You look so pretty laid out like that…”

“Not now, the target could appear at any moment,” you shift slightly, pulling your snipers hood to adjust it. You can’t risk being seen by anyone who doesn’t already know you’re there, the mission is too high stakes.

König elects to ignore your hushed warning, placing his large palm on the back of your thigh. It rests just above your knee. For a moment, you think he’s going to leave it there, but then it starts to slide up your leg.

His gloves catch on the fabric slightly, causing it to bunch and pull as he moves his hands upwards. It’s driving you mad that you can’t push him away - a moment away from the scope could be the difference between making the shot and botching the mission.

“Just let me feel you mein schatz…? Please?” His voice is pathetic as he whispers out the plea. For a man so big, he sounds so small.

“König I can’t mess this shot up,” you growl. Nothing in you wants to tell him to stop but you have to anyway, so you settle for a compromise - or at least it seems that way to you.

“That wasn’t a no~” suddenly, his voice becomes a purr. His hand shifts, gripping the inside of your thigh and sliding up.

It takes him seconds before his fingers are at your core, two of them massaging your cunt through the fabric of your trousers. Everything in you has to fight to stop you from pushing back against him, grinding yourself into his fingers.

“Keep your eyes on the streets mein schatz,” König says, like he wasn’t practically begging for you to let him distract you just moments ago.

“I’m trying,” you hiss out through clenched teeth. He only chuckles in response, massaging your cunt in just the right way.

Barely any time passes before you can feel warmth growing between your legs. Your body is begging for him, to be touched properly, to grind back into his hand and forget about everything else.

Apparently, you don’t have to worry about it, as König is hoisting your hips up the best he can without shifting your head too much. You don’t get a chance to ask him what he’s doing as he reaches underneath you and undoes both your belt and your trousers.

“König I need-” you try in vain to get him to stop, a verbal slap in the wrist wouldn’t stop this man.

“I will be gentle.” Is all you get in response as he works your trousers down your thighs, letting them rest just below your knees. This gives you the chance to drop your hips again, giving you a steadier view down the scope and into the streets.

This peace doesn’t last long, however, as his hands starts groping and caressing your thigh again. He keeps it mid thigh for a moment, indulging in the softness and the warmth of your skin.

Soon enough, his hand is following the same pattern as before, sliding up your bare leg and towards your core. He takes a momentary detour, gripping the fat of your ass in his palm and giving it a firm squeeze. Part of you knew it would’ve been a rather loud slap had it not been for your current location.

Ultimately, König’s hand comes back to rest over your clothed cunt. His hand feels almost unnaturally warm, calloused fingers gently pressing against your warmth. He’s almost mimicking the same pattern he would pulse his fingers at if he were fucking you.

“It is so hard to keep my hands off of you~” König growls, his middle finger finding your clit through your panties. He rubs it, small, slow circles over your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“I- I Can tell.” You readjust your rifle, shouldering it slightly differently. It’s a desperate, failed, attempt at distracting yourself from König’s ministrations.

“Shhh, concentrate,” he chuckles lowly, almost to himself. It feels like he’s making fun of you as he does.

You don’t get a chance to respond though, as König presses down on your clit in just the right way. Your body jumps slightly, tensing in pleasure for just a second before you relax again.

As much as you try to fight it down, anger bubbles up inside you. They couldn’t been the difference between making the shit and botching the mission.

“König I—” your body jolts again, this time with the sensation of the crotch of your panties being pulled aside.

König’s now ungloved fingers are pressing against your slick cunt. He slides them back and forth through your slick, gathering it up on his first and middle finger. You know exactly what he’s going to do and you don’t have the heart - or the chance - to stop him.

His fingers are slipping inside you before you can say anything. They slide in to the knuckle, completely buried inside you. Everything about him is so massive that even just a couple of his fingers provide you with an amazing stretch.

König only gives you a few seconds before she starts to curl his fingers into your sponges sweet spot. They’re slow, deliberate, *teasing* curls that are already causing heat to flood to your core.

It’s such a delicious feeling that you eyes start to unfocus . Pleasure starts to trickle through your body, staring at your stuffed cunt and spreading outwards. It’s a sensation that causes the rope in your belly to tighten a lot faster than you thought it would.

“König I’m… Fuck…” is the only words you can mumble out while still looking down your sniper’s scope.

“Don’t worry, cum for me~” König purrs, fingers continuing to work the same, perfect rhythm.

“Target in sight. Take the shot Blue.” Price’s voice suddenly crackles through your headphones just as you feel yourself reaching your peak.

“Yes… sir…” it takes everything in you not to stutter. König’s continued movements don’t help, but but some miracle, you take the shot and eliminate the target.

What you don’t realise is that König has not only stopped but also pulled his fingers out. The stress of the situation holds you from noticing until he’s pulling your trousers back up and you realise that you never came while he was finger fucking you.

“What? That’s not fair!” You whisper shout, already staring to move towards the exit.

“I was distracting you mein schatz, you said you needed to be concentrating.”

“…fuck.”

[drgnflyteabox]

postcards from the coast [1]

part one -> the albatross || part two -> linens

pairing: kyle 'gaz' garrick / single mom!reader summary: kyle garrick is prescribed a year by the sea to cure his melancholia tags/warnings: grief, angst, depression, gaz was raised by a single mom truther, mention of past death (soap) w.c: 1.3k

He meets you at the edge of the world, surrounded by soaring seabirds and pale white sand, with the sound of frothing waves against craggy rocks behind him.

The weather hasn't committed yet, it's still cold, the kind of cold that's wet and salty and fragrant. His nose is numb and his mouth is dry, frozen in place, looking past the view he came for to focus on you.

They're not the same cliffs. Not the ones where they scattered Johnny's ashes, not so significant as that, where the world tilted on it's axis and grew emptier. There are still times when he thinks to turn and laugh with his friend, to text him, to send him postcards from his travels. And can't.

Vulnerability is a new feeling. Sure, he'd known as child that he could cry, that he could ask for help and embrace his feelings and admit when he didn't know things. This is different. It's feeling bereft, lost at sea, naked and open and unable to close back up around the space that Johnny used to occupy.

You break the circle of monotony.

For weeks he's visited this place, stared into the sea and thought of how he could come back to himself. Ignored John and Simon and and their messages, taking all his leave at once and then some. Calling his mom every Sunday and leaving it at that.

Having expected to be alone again, it's strange and startling to see you walking up the path, pushing a stroller, murmuring something with your head bent low to the crochet blanket covering the mouth of the stroller.

By the look of your wide eyes when you finally lay eyes on him, you weren't expecting anyone to be here either. It's a relatively isolated trail, but not completely uninhabited. He shrugs a shoulder and smiles politely, eyes still on yours.

"Hello," you look down, adjusting the blanket. Nervous, avoiding eye contact. "Do you mind if we…?"

"Of course," he says too quickly. He snaps his gaze away from yours, trying to put you at ease. "Been here too long, anyways."

"Oh no, I don't want to chase you away-" you're sheepish, still frozen on the path.

"You aren't," he shakes his head in placation, waving away your worries with one hand, while making to go by you. "Please, enjoy. And be careful by the edge, yeah?"

He doesn't know why he says it - it's not his place. But something in his chest squeezes when you nod quietly and slip by him.

"And that's all?" The barista clicks a pen against the counter, cup in one hand, hip cocked, waiting for him to confirm.

Black coffee, an almond croissant and and egg sandwich. Extra aged white cheddar. Trying to stir up an appetite outside of protein shakes.

"That's all, thanks," he pays with cash, safely, anonymously. Everything leads back to the job, even as he's here trying to forget about it. Guilt pokes through his numbness long enough to make him wince, forever feeling like he's letting the team down by being here.

Think this is a good idea for you, son, John had said. He tries to remember that on his worst days, when rest starts to feel like stagnation and atrophy. There's no mission, that's his mantra.

The bell chimes above the door and he pays no mind to it until he hears your voice again. Soft, timid, asking for dirty chai like someone's going to arrest you over it.

Watches you pay, one hand outstretched and the holding your baby. You're bouncing them up and down gently, almost unconsciously, lips close enough to brush the soft skin of their head.

"Hello again," it's bold, maybe too bold. You don't startle, but you're surprised. Maybe suspicious, guarded. Have you got a man in your life? Where is he?

"Hello," you smile politely, adjusting the wrap your baby is settled in against your chest. Soap would've called you a nervous little hen, patted Gaz on the back and encouraged him. Grief squeezes his throat with that thought and he turns away from you, breathing harshly through the feeling.

"Oh god, are you alright?" You're alarmed, hands hesitantly reaching and pulling back as if you want to help but aren't sure about touching a stranger.

He struggles against the tide, tethered to nothing. Who knew absence could be painful? Could catch you by surprise, worse than any sniper, anywhere and anytime?

Grief is strange like that. It almost makes him laugh for the absurdity of it. A smile pulls at his cheeks, painful and yet cathartic all at once. It's absence and it's not - Johnny will always be there, in the back of his mind or the forefront of memory. Gone and yet conjurable.

"Yeah, yeah," his voice has gone rough, so he clears his throat and smiles underneath eyes that prickle. "Choked a bit on air, you know how it is."

"Do you need water?" Your eyebrows pull up, concern all over your face, eyes wide. Aw, he didn't mean to scare you. Poor hen.

"No, that's alright, love," his coffee is up. The warmth is grounding in his hand, and soothes the pin needle feeling in his throat. "Haven't seen you around here."

"No. I just moved here," you offer, breaking eye contact to look toward the door. Defensive? Getting ready to run? "I should be going, though. You know how it is…" motioning to the baby with your free hand, he starts examining, analyzing. Your obvious anxiety, your pulling back. Sure, it could be because you're both strangers. Could also be because you're scared of something else.

"I hope I didn't overstep?"

"No, no, not at all." Your chai comes out before his food does, the smell of bread and cheese filling the cafe. You sip delicately at it, looking nonchalant to anyone but his trained eye. Sweat beads at your hairline, your free hand holding the baby tighter. "Just have some errands to run."

"That's fine, then. Need a hand with anything?" Leaning forward on his feet, trying to ask without asking, without assuming. Where's your husband?

Probably another overstep, another symptom of his brain being still for too long. Making something out of nothing. Maybe he's just creeped out the new mom whose just moved into a small town, like something out of a horror film.

"Thank you for offering," you smile without your eyes. He still hasn't seen your child, what they look like. So quiet, the both of you.

"Hello, dear." Mums voice is always a balm to the soul. He wants to call her more, not just Sundays. Wouldn't mind being the lad that calls his mum every night if it didn't mean that she was always using that tone of hers, the one she'd adopted after Johnny died. He knows she's balancing her own grief with her mothering, so he spares them both by limiting contact.

"Hey, mum. How's the garden?" Spring is big for her, always has been. She used to feed them half their meals right out of her plot in the backyard. John had nearly started calling him rabbit when he'd met her and seen the bounty. Thank god that never stuck.

"It's good, I've just planted my radishes, my turnips, my…"

Listening to her speak is like rocking in a hammock. He lets the sound wash over him, staring through his window at the falling dusk and picturing you again. The long, wool skirt you'd worn to the cliffs. Your eyes, wide and concerned.

This is a rental house, paid for with cash and a false name thanks to Kate. It's hard to feel grateful for it when he's gone from one emptiness to another, but he knows that John is home with his wife and Simon is off doing the same thing as he is. Recovering, taking a breather. Until the next mission.

"And I have your sister her, Kyle, she wants to say hello," he's brought back to the present, eyes crinkling when he hears her voice.

"Kyle Garrick! Have I been texting a brick wall? You haven't-"

Even upset, it's nice to hear her voice. To be scolded.

He leans into his rickety rented chair and lets himself relax.

[not-d3ad-y3t]

Just take it easy, take it easy on me

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Fandom: Dead Boy Detectives/DC

Paring: The Cat King x Reader, MLM

Rating: G

Words: 665

Summary: Thomas turned into his human form. He had his hair slicked back, a purple button-up shirt, and tight leather pants, those yellow eyes staring into your soul." I am down here, looking goddamn adorable, and you're just going to ignore me?"

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It was late. About 11 o'clock late. You were taking a walk around town, It was something you did often. Late night strolls always calmed you down. The somewhat chilly air, the crickets, the stars. It was all so therapeutic. You wrapped your jacket tighter around yourself, a small shiver going down your spine.

Suddenly, you felt something soft and fluffy rub against your leg. You looked down, seeing an orange cat.

“Thomas.” You acknowledged him with a smile. You ran into him regularly. It was like he wanted to be near you at all times. Which was weird for the cat king, but you didn't really mind. He was one to isolate himself from everyone.

You continued walking as the cat followed you, meowing constantly, like he was aggravated. It was honestly kind of funny, seeing an almost immortal being begging for your attention. He liked his attention. That's something you found out fairly quickly. It was quite cute also, but that was just a bonus.

Thomas turned into his human form. He had his hair slicked back, a purple button-up shirt, and tight leather pants, those yellow eyes staring into your soul." I am down here, looking goddamn adorable, and you're just going to ignore me?"

You smiled, turning to look at him with a raised eyebrow. His arms were crossed with a childish pout on his face. Like he was a kid who didn't get what they wanted.

“Pay attention to me-” he whined, the only light illuminating him was the streetlight above, which make his eyes shine. He was beautiful, that you couldn't deny, but his needy personality drowned that all out.

You didn't mind giving him the attention he craved, but you just loved his pouty face when he didn't get what he wanted. He turned himself back into a cat, stepping in front of you, trying to make you stop walking by blocking your pathway.

You chuckled and gave in, picking him up. He immediately nuzzled into you. Rubbing his head under your chin, purring.

“Happy now?” He meowed, so you took that as a yes. He purred as you scratched under his chin.“I'm starting to think you like me.”

You could hear a tiny growl come from him. Maybe he likes you. A big MAYBE. He would never admit, though. You were simply the mortal he liked getting pets from… Okay, perhaps he liked you.

He cared about you and he hated it. He loved how you were always so gentle with him. And with you, he felt less… Lonely. The many years alone with a ton of trust issues made it hard for him to bond with anyone really. But you were different.“Admit it, you love me.”

Though he was scared. What if you didn't like him as much when he was a human. For someone whose persona is being an arrogant, cocky bastard, but he was terrified deep down under.

He buried his face in your chest as you pet him, purring softly, though loud enough that you could hear. You ran your fingers through his fluffy fur, enjoying the softness. He let his guard down with you, he trusted you.

You continued walking until he jumped out of your arms, turning himself back into a human for the second time. You didn't question it as he walked with you down the sidewalk. There was silence before Thomas broke it.

“Why do you keep me around?” He asked.

“Because you're not so bad once you get used to your creeping around.”

You leaned in and kissed his cheek. A blush growing on his face.

“I'll see you tomorrow, Thomas.” With that, you walked away. You turned your head back and gave him a smile. He stared, putting his hand on his cheek. He felt a tingling sensation where your lips met his face. His heart skipped a beat when you looked back. He turned around, walking back to his warehouse he called a home.

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Follow me on AO3 @ Not_D3ad_Y3t

[strawberryseeded]

thinking abt bllk (no surprise there) and how (at least until now) all (well, most of?) the characters backstories aka basically the reason for their most prominent issues are, instead of extremely tragic and complex events, simply children's logic applied to recurrent situations in their daily lives (and especially the sport they love):

bachira feels lonely: bachira was a weird and lonely kid who was also extremely passionate abt (and talented in) football, more than any other kid, making bachira feel isolated even when he was playing with others. this got even worse when the kids he played with started to resent him, calling him a "monster" and bullying him. while talking with his mom, she told him to keep believing in his inner voice and ignore those who dont understand him, resulting in bachira giving that voice the form of a "monster" that can play football with him to feel less lonely. which, obviously, made him even more lonely, even if it was an imaginary friend created to aliviate that feeling. because bachira still felt lonely, even after many years and even after playing with other people in school who werent any fun for him, he kept the monster by his side. believing no one could ever beat this monster (thank GODNESS he did 🎉!!! HE is the monster no one can beat!!!! his arc is one of my favs hes literally unstoppable now, i love him dude i love h)

isagi holds himself back too much: isagi (i read the light novel abt him hehe) was a timid and mild mannered kid until he discovered football, which he fell in love with. while playing the sport he could let go of his shyness and actually be selfish and go all out. uuuntil... he entered his high school's reputable football club, where the motto was to play as a team above everything else (a very anti-blue lock logic lol). isagi then, in an effort to accomodate to the social norms of the club (bc hes isagi, and off the field hes calmer and timider), had to simmer down in the field as well. supress himself. at times it seems like his on and off switch is kind of stuck.

barou has main character syndrome: barou was a very, on top of talented, meticulous kid and therefore the best in football out of every other kid he knew, who didnt take it as seriously and were more than happy to let him score all the goals. he didnt understand why they were satisfied with letting other people take all the glory, so he secluded himself, convinced that he was the only player that actually mattered on the field. the best. the Main Character. everyone else was completely worthless, their only use being to serve HIM. (until he got his ass kicked by isagi and became the villan instead of the main character, bc oh, shit, barou's not actually the main character???? then he'll hunt down & DESTROY the main character).

rin (god, rin) has a brother complex (i used to hate when ppl oversimplify whats wrong w him w this term but tbh it does boil down to this lol ToT): rin idolized his older brother like crazy and wanted to be just like him. bc he was also blessed with talent and also had a great relationship w sae, he had everything he needed to fulfill his dream of being the 2nd best striker, the 1st obviously being his older brother, who rin viewed as the best, most talented player in the world. when sae comes back from spain and tells him 'the world is big and im not actually the best, you go and be the best striker by yourself' (basically: our (your) dream is over), rin has a fucking breakdown. its not really a tragic, despair-inducing event, objectively speaking. but in the manga its framed as such bc for rin, in his childish logic, it is. bc his brother IS the BEST player, what the fuck do you mean hes not number 1 outside of japan?? ....then what about rin? if his brother cant be the best, rin cant be the 2nd best either, let alone the best. he feels like sae ruined everything, gave up, broke their (rin's) dream!!!! after sae humilliates him, rin directs all of his frustrations at him and bows to defeat him. as long as rin sees himself as sae's little brother, he's never gonna be able to surpass him, bc in rin's mind, sae is still the best, his talented big brother.

ness believes kaiser, not him, is the magician: ness's case is more serious bc his family was (is?) emotionally abusive towards him. basically, like every other kid, ness believed in magic. the concept of magic is exciting for children and gives them, in the form of play, the opportunity to express their creativity and exercise their imagination; work out a way to make the impossible come true. bc this is so important for their development, usually its the parents role to, at least to a certain degree, keep alive the belief that magic is real. ness's parents, on the contrary, shut down this belief bc it didnt match with their own views. they saw his interests as a waste of time, even letting his sibilings bully him and treat him badly to make him give up on them. ness, however, didnt, and instead found a more socially acceptable way to 'do magic' and express his creativity: football. he feared greatly, however, that football would be taken away from him, so in that faithful match in which he met kaiser he decided to put all of his trust and hard work on him, bc ness believed kaiser was the person who would be able to make the impossible, the magic that ness wanted to create, happen. i think the key to unlock his full potential is stop relying on kaiser so much and start believing in his own magic (kind of like what happened in hiori's arc). we have yet to know kaiser's backstory but i have a feeling those two enable each other's worst traits...

ETC !!!! sorry i got tired of writing lol

anyways these r just my interpretations of the characters feel free 2 b like "was is she ON about"

[midnightstargazer]

Cursed Child is awful, but I really like Astoria and have enthusiastically adopted that version of her into my headcanons.

First of all, I like that she's a genuinely good person who was (most likely) a Slytherin. I'm totally here for interesting villains and morally gray characters, but there's something very irritating about the way Slytherin is consistently the "evil" house in canon, as if 25% of the student body can be reliably identified as bad people from the age of eleven. Astoria is one of the few exceptions and feels like a breath of fresh air. She can be kind-hearted, loving, and non-prejudiced and still be a Slytherin, and I love that about her.

The blood curse is a pretty blatant example of fridging: Astoria is not meant to be important in her own right and is killed off to create angst for her husband and son, as well as to get her out of the way before the main plot gets started. But ignoring how it's handled in the play, I think the idea of the blood curse has a lot of interesting potential. The Greengrasses must have been in a very odd position, being part of the upper crust of pure-blood society and yet having their family's greatest weakness be a curse passed down from one of their ancestors, whether that is openly known or kept secret.

Astoria was raised with the same ideology as many Slytherins, in a family that was surely not still pure-blood by accident, but rejected that ideology and never looked back. That might have had a little bit to do with the curse and the weird position it likely placed her in, but I think it probably had more to do with the war.

Her experience was described on Pottermore as "similar (though less violent and frightening)" in comparison to Draco's, which I take to mean that she wasn't personally affected by the war. She was pure-blood, her parents weren't Death Eaters, and she was only fifteen or sixteen when it ended. She most likely flew under the radar and was left alone. And yet, she still came out of it believing in equality, unwilling to pass down bigoted ideas to the next generation.

To me, this suggests that she was a compassionate and empathetic person who was moved by seeing how harmful the ideology was to other people. Reading about all the awful stuff that was happening, hearing about the ways in which the war was affecting her classmates, witnessing the Carrows' cruelty even if she herself wasn't their target - although she was a bit too young to be involved in it personally, the war must have played a huge role in shaping how she sees the world.

Astoria is, above all else, a good mother. She and Draco raised Scorpius differently than how they were raised, and it shows. She taught him that Muggles are people deserving of his respect, she sent him off to school with sweets to share hoping it would help him make friends, she encouraged him to be kind and generous rather than trying to mold him into a snob or a bully. And, it's strongly implied, she helped him make sense of his family's past, especially his father's ("Mum always told me that you were a better man than I could see" - CC Act 3 Scene 3).

What really breaks my heart, more than the blood curse, is what a lonely life Astoria seems to have led as an adult. She clearly had a loving relationship with Draco and Scorpius, but between her disapproving in-laws and the stigma of being connected to the Malfoys, her husband and son seem to have been all she had. Not only is she never mentioned having any friends as an adult (which could just be because she's out of focus), Scorpius obviously had a very isolated childhood, and the family is subjected to vicious rumors thanks to Rita Skeeter. Scorpius never even mentions his maternal grandparents or his aunt when he talks about his family. Did Astoria still have a relationship with them as an adult?

And yet, it was entirely her choice. She loved Draco, she saw (or perhaps brought out) the best in him, and so she married him. I love that their relationship isn't some sort of arranged marriage or strategic match based on blood status. That they do genuinely love each other and are willing to be together even though it's not the easy choice. Even though his parents disapprove, even though she will be judged and scrutinized in a way she has done nothing to deserve, even though there is no promise of a happy ending where they grow old together.

It's weird, because Astoria is only mentioned once in the books and gets absolutely zero characterization. She comes almost entirely from the play, most of which I reject; the trolley witch is an ordinary person, and Cedric Diggory would never join the Death Eaters 🤣. And I don't really love how she was dealt with in the play, never appearing onstage, killed off without ever being properly introduced. But from the little fragments of her story that we get and the implications of what we're told, I find her to be a really interesting character.

[yuujispinkhair]

The Red Lord (Chapter 2 of 2)

On the hills above your village stands a magnificent but supposedly cursed castle where the mysterious Red Lord lives. Lord Sukuna is a man of breathtaking beauty. Too beautiful. Rumors claim that there is something wrong with him. But what happens when an accident makes you end up in the care of that mysterious man? Will you uncover the truth about him?

Chapter 1

Pairing: Vampire!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: Vampire AU, gothic fairytale, smut, fluff Word Count: 8k Warnings: 18+, Sukuna is a vampire, blood, mentions of murder and death, mentions of past domestic violence and abuse (NOT from Sukuna! But Reader's father, brother, and the man she was promised to didn't treat her well), smut, virginity loss, fingering, oral, creampie. All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

As much as the evening in the rose garden and the tender kisses distracted you, you can't stop thinking about the villagers' accusations. Their words play over and over in your head.

Three men were killed.

But what do you know about what has happened down in the village? No one mentioned any names of the victims. For all you know, it could be anyone. There is no evidence that it is connected to you. So why should you presume that the victims were the three men that had wronged you? And why should you assume Lord Sukuna had anything to do with that?

The burn marks on his hand? A foolish mind could interpret them as proof that Lord Sukuna is a vampire. You remember how he didn't fully step into the sunlight but stopped in the doorway. Only his left hand must have come into direct touch with the sunlight. But isn't this a bit far-fetched?

Maybe Lord Sukuna just burned himself on candle wax. That's a far more likely explanation.

It would be convenient to wrap yourself in sweet ignorance and pretend everything is fine.

But you can't ignore the voice of reason screaming at you that all those coincidences are very suspicious indeed. The part about Sukuna being a vampire is still too wild for you to allow it. But what about those mysterious deaths that have occurred?

You have to acknowledge that there could be a connection to you.

Three men posed a threat to you. Three men were killed.

You catch yourself watching Lord Sukuna more closely. Wondering if those strong hands that are so carefully handing you a crystal glass filled to the brim with red wine could be the hands of a murderer. Wondering if those glittering diamond eyes and the confident and handsome smile are hiding his true monstrous nature beneath a beautiful mask.

Is the man who took you in a monster after all?

But the thing is, you find that you don't care either way. Because isn't it all a question of perspective? When is a monster an actual monster? Generally speaking, you don't condone murder, of course. But is it still murder if it was done out of the wish to protect someone? You don't think so.

So that leads to a conviction: Even if Lord Sukuna is the one who killed those men who you assume were your father, brother, and future husband, that doesn't make him a monster in your eyes. To everyone else in your village, he might be. But to you, he is the brave man who ensured that the men harming you would never lay a hand on you again. So you could say Lord Sukuna is your hero. Your knight who slayed the dragon.

You don't mind that he has some strange habits or that the way he speaks is a bit odd sometimes, old-fashioned. It is probably because he never really comes into contact with other people. Lord Sukuna lives here alone with only a loyal servant at his proposal.

He seems to be a lonely man in self-inflicted isolation. You tell yourself you would feel guilty at the thought of saying farewell to him, and so you decide you will stay a while longer even though all your injuries have long healed.

And wouldn't you miss him too? Wouldn't you miss the inspiring book discussions the two of you hold? Or the way Sukuna's face lights up when he laughs at a joke you made? When he looks so devastatingly beautiful in the candlelight, it almost makes you cry?

Wouldn't you miss the sweet kisses he shares with you? Stolen kisses in the rose garden at night. Gentle and sweet, but with an ever-growing passion on Lord Sukuna's and your part. The lingering touches when you pass him in the doorway. A brush of his hand against yours in passing by. A strong arm that sneaks around your waist to guide you down the stairs. A smile and an intense look out of those gorgeous eyes that make the fluttery feeling in your stomach and chest intensify.

You would miss all of those things.

And so you stay. Even after that incident in the village and Lord Sukuna's possible connection to it, you stay.

The doubt remains, though. As crazy as you tell yourself it is to believe in such foolish tales as vampires, there are so many weird things about this place and about Sukuna that it's hard to ignore them.

But one particular incident makes you spin out of control.

Lord Sukuna brings you roses all the time. He puts them on your dinner plate or hands them to you with a smile and a soft kiss pressed to your cheek. Those roses from his garden are magnificent, red, and flawless. They never have any thorns.

Lord Sukuna told you that he asked Uraume to cut off the thorns so you won't hurt yourself on them. You always assumed he was just caring and thoughtful.

But then, one night, a single little thorn is left on a rose, and you prick yourself on it.

"Ouch!"

You gasp and lift your hand, inspecting the small cut, where a big drop of blood already wells up.

Lord Sukuna makes a strangled sound next to you. His eyes seem even redder suddenly, glimmering in an unnatural bright scarlet red as they stare at the thick drop of blood on your fingertip.

Before you can do anything, he grabs your hand and brings it to his lips. You can only watch in astonishment, and dawning horror as Sukuna's soft tongue flicks over your finger, licking up that drop of blood.

Your gaze meets his, and you can see a hunger in it that you have never seen before. So intense that it looks almost feral.

Those bright red eyes widen suddenly, and Lord Sukuna drops your hand and hastily takes a step back. Before you can process what is happening, he has already fled the room, and the dark wooden door falls shut behind him with a loud bang.

It's that incident with the rose that keeps you up for hours this night.

You have never seen Lord Sukuna like this. He usually is so calm and in control. So it seems strange to see him so distraught. The way his eyes were burning with hunger. Glowing red like never before. The way he had licked the blood off your finger. His hurried escape afterward. As if he wanted to hide something from you. Or as if he was scared, he did something bad...or would do something bad if he stayed near you.

You sit up with a gasp. Your head is spinning. It is time, you realize. Time to acknowledge those thoughts that have been haunting you for weeks.

What if vampires exist after all? What if you are living with one at the moment?

Suddenly you're filled with an unbearable restlessness, driven by the need to finally discover the truth.

Is there any base for those suspicions? Or are you just getting carried away by crazy thoughts and fantasies? You know what you need. Cold hard facts! More knowledge about this topic!

Only one floor beneath you is the vastest collection of books you have ever seen. So if there is a likely place to find more information about vampires, it will be there!

You are out of bed in seconds, not even bothering to put on shoes or wrap a cape around your shoulders to keep you warm. You just grab a candle holder and leave your room barefooted, only dressed in your thin nightdress.

The luxurious plush carpets feel soft under your feet as you rush through the long corridors and down the flight of stairs. The heavy wooden door closes softly behind you after you enter the spacious library.

You should start your search in the mythological section and then continue to go through the science section and look for medical encyclopedias.

You are so focused on your mission to find a book that will contain the information you seek that you don't see him until his low velvety voice drifts through the dimly lit room.

"Can't sleep, sweetheart?"

You almost drop the candle, your heart jumping to your throat as your head whips around to stare at the big red armchair Lord Sukuna is sitting on.

"L...Lord Sukuna! I am sorry for disturbing you!"

A lazy smirk spreads over his beautiful face, red eyes sparkling in amusement as he cocks his head and watches you curiously,

"Don't worry, darling. You can come here at any time of the day or night. This is your castle too. And I, for one, understand the nightly craving for information and the fantastic world books can offer us. I come here almost every night to read. Can I help you? Are you looking for anything specific?"

His glittering gaze holds yours for a long moment before slowly traveling down your body. Suddenly you become aware of the way you are dressed. Only standing in front of him in your thin nightdress that slips off your shoulders, sitting low on your breasts. Delicate white silk that is too thin for walking around at night at this time of year. 

Your nipples are stiff peaks because of the chilly temperatures, clearly visible through the thin material of your nightdress. You are sure that the snug fit of the dress does nothing to hide your body from Lord Sukuna's gaze.

Your free hand self-consciously tugs on one of the lacy straps, trying to pull it up over your shoulder.

"I... no, I am not looking for anything in particular. I just... I just need something to calm me down, I think. So I can find rest afterward."

The smirk on Lord Sukuna's pretty face turns even bigger, even more dazzling in its beauty. There is something in his eyes and in his voice, a certain sparkle, a specific timbre, that seems almost hypnotic, making you slowly walk towards him when he says,

"Then I have something for you, my dear. Come to me."

You are breathing too fast when you stop in front of the red armchair where Lord Sukuna is lounging, still in the formal and luxurious clothes he has been wearing the whole day. He took off his fine red velvet frock coat and draped it over the backrest of the armchair, allowing you a good look at his muscular figure in the red silk vest and white dress shirt he's wearing beneath it. His thighs in his red silk pants are spread slightly.

He looks gorgeous. Majestic, like a King sitting on his throne. A beautiful and powerful King. A man of such beauty that it makes your head spin.

He smiles at you, mouth opening wide enough to reveal his straight white teeth with the canines that are slightly too long, slightly too pointed.

"Let me read to you, my love. I am sure it will help you feel better. Come, sit."

Your mouth feels dry as you follow the movement of his elegant hand as he pats his muscular thigh, indicating unmistakenly where you should sit.

It's a scandalous offer. Highly inappropriate. Your heart is beating so fast, and you gulp hard. A decent woman would decline politely. It's what has been drummed into you ever since you were a young girl.

But you have left this old life behind. It's not like you haven't done worse things than sit on a man's lap. After all, you have shared many kisses with Lord Sukuna during the last few weeks.

Since he is here, you can't follow through with your plan of doing research anyways. So it won't hurt to spend a little time with him. Wouldn't it be suspicious if you turned down his offer?

And he is so beautiful, so tempting. You have never felt desire stir in your core when interacting with a man before. But Lord Sukuna makes something deep inside you feel so hot.

Before you can think too much about it, you quickly walk over to him and slip onto his lap.

After all, who is here to judge you? Who is here to call you a whore for sitting on a man's lap who isn't your husband? It feels oddly freeing to do this. To let go of all the guilt and strict rules forced upon you, which made you feel like a prisoner in an invisible cage.

Lord Sukuna's strong arms encircle you instantly. He takes the candle holder from you and puts it on the table beside his chair, and then those firm hands land on your waist, always holding you so securely in his arms, always making you feel so taken care of, so safe.

But tonight you aren't wearing several layers of clothes. Tonight there is only a thin layer of silk between your skin and Lord Sukuna's fingers. You can feel their coldness seep through the flimsy fabric, making goosebumps appear on your naked arms.

"Good girl. You don't have to be afraid."

He whispers, his voice as seductive as a caress.

"I am not afraid."

It's true. You aren't scared of him. Even though you came down here to research the possibility of him not being human. But as strange as it seems, you feel safe with Lord Sukuna.

Instinctively you snuggle into his arms, leaning against his broad chest, breathing in the luxurious and tantalizing smell of his perfume. A shy smile spreads over your face as you lift your head to look at him, caught in his spell, mesmerized by his beauty and strength.

He smiles back at you, and his strong hands tighten their hold on you, long fingers sprawling over your waist, thumbs caressing your sides gently. And you catch yourself craving more of his caresses, more of his touch, his kisses, his affection.

Your left hand lands on his firm chest, feeling his muscles even through the layers of expensive clothing. If there is a heartbeat underneath those clothes, you cannot feel it. But you find that you don't care.

You don't care if there is something unusual about Lord Sukuna. You don't care if he might not be human. If being this close to him feels so good even though it is supposed to be wrong, you are very willing to do the supposedly bad thing.

You are willing to let him taint you. To let him steal your innocence. You don't need it anymore. You left all that behind when you left your future husband, your cruel father, and your brother. It feels like for the first time you are truly alive. Truly living for yourself. Truly allowed to be yourself. To feel and to want and to desire.

And you desire him.

You want Sukuna, want to feel more of his muscular body, his firm but gentle touch, his kisses that are so sweet and addictive as if you ran right into one of those absinthe taverns your chaperon always warned you about.

He picks up the book he had been reading when you entered the library, opening it to the page he was currently on. There's a soft smile on his face as he begins to read to you,

"No man knows till he has suffered from the night how sweet and dear to his heart and eye the morning can be." 

You feel comfortable in his arms, resting your head on his broad shoulder and letting his low sultry voice lull you into a state of blissful drowsiness.

His long fingers are still sprawled over your waist, caressing you lightly through your thin nightdress.

You sigh and open your eyes to watch him. To bask in the beauty of his handsome face, the angular jawline, the high cheekbones. His sparkling jewel eyes focused on the page before him, his full lips moving so gracefully as he reads to you with that seductive voice that makes your heart flutter.

It doesn't take long for you to become bold and cup his beautiful cheek, distracting him from reading, and his pretty glittering gaze lands on you, raising an elegant eyebrow curiously.

His lips lift in a smile right before you cover them with yours.

The book falls from his hand, tumbling down and landing on the thick plush carpet with a soft thud.

But neither you nor Sukuna cares about that. Instead, his hand grabs the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as his lips move against yours, mouth opening to deepen the kiss. You sigh softly when his tongue brushes against yours when he lets you explore his mouth, licking and kissing, groaning when the tip of your tongue comes in contact with the sharp point of one of his canines.

Your breath comes out in soft huffs when the lord's cold lips trail down your neck, teeth grazing over your sensitive skin, making your hips buck involuntarily when his mouth closes over your pulse point, and he starts sucking.

Your fingers find Sukuna's soft reddish-pink hair, running through it, marveling at the way it feels like silk. You cannot get enough of the tingling sensation of his lips on your skin. A gasp fills the dimly lit library when Lord Sukuna's mouth travels further down your neck, leaving soft kisses on your exposed shoulders.

You let your head fall back, giving him better access, leaning back in his strong arms that hold you so safely.

His mouth travels to the low neckline of your silky nightdress, making you shudder in anticipation when Sukuna's kisses caress the curves of your breasts.

You press your chest against his mouth, eager for more. The thought of his lips on your body sends a surge of longing through you. You want more of him, want to give yourself to him in any way he wants.

And then Sukuna pulls the neckline of your nightdress down, freeing your breasts, and making them spill out against his beautiful face.

You whimper needily when his soft lips close around one of your stiff peaks, kissing it lovingly and gently pulling it into his silky mouth. He is suckling on it and flicking his velvety tongue over it in tender caresses that make your whole body tremble with desire.

You never thought this was how it feels to be with a man. All those tales about how it is a disgusting thing that no woman enjoys and only has to do for her husband to please him made you believe it would be bad. But what Lord Sukuna is doing to your body feels so good. Better than anything you ever could imagine in your wildest dreams.

Heat is throbbing between your legs, and you spread them unconsciously, opening them only to feel a wetness between them that you have never felt there before. So slick and hot, throbbing with such intense craving, it makes you gasp and squirm against Lord Sukuna's muscular thigh.

He laughs softly, where his face is buried between your breasts, loving them with soft kisses and licks. And then he pulls away only to capture your lips with his a moment later, meeting you again in a deep passionate kiss.

You kiss him back feverishly, naked breasts pressing against his chest, moaning at the feeling of his silk vest brushing over your sensitive flesh.

One of Lord Sukuna's large, firm hands slips under your nightdress, caressing your knee and slowly traveling upwards. He is so cold, like marble. But his hand stays on your thigh long enough to warm up against your skin until it feels like a human hand should feel.

Your pulse is racing, your head spinning as you let yourself get lost in Sukuna's sweet passionate kiss and the feeling of his strong body against you. You can feel a hardness press against your thigh where you are sitting on his lap, making you feel dizzy with need at the thought of what that means. He is affected by this too. He desires you just as you desire him. It's exhilarating.

And then Sukuna's now warm hand slips further under your nightdress, long fingers caressing your inner thighs, making more wetness coat your womanhood as your thighs begin to tremble.

You gasp loudly when that strong but gentle hand finally reaches your hot wet cunt. 

Your initial reaction is shame. Not because you don't desire his touch but because you are ashamed of how wet you are down there.

You don't know much about the act of sexual intercourse. But what you know so far made you believe firmly that men don't want to touch women down there. That they only use your cunt to bring pleasure to themselves, to sink their manhood deep into it and take what they need.

You try to close your legs, pushing Lord Sukuna's hand away as your face feels hot with shame. 

Sukuna stops, his hand lingering gently between your thighs, fingertips only a breath away from your throbbing heat. You feel his lips on your neck again, showering it with more tender kisses, and then his low voice murmurs soothingly against your skin,

"Don't be shy, my love. Please let me touch you. I want to make you feel good, want to spoil you, my pretty little dove."

"B... but isn't this dirty? You don't have to do this..."

He laughs softly against your skin, the vibrations of his laughter sending shock waves through your body, making pleasure pool even more between your legs.

"I want to touch you, darling. It's the biggest blessing you could grant me to let me touch you like this. May I?"

And you let out a shaky breath and nod, whispering,

"Y...yes, please touch me."

A sob escapes your mouth when his fingers slip back between your thighs, brushing gently over your wet folds, and then your hips buck as those loving fingers rub over a very sensitive part.

He is tender as his fingers travel lovingly over your cunt, gently spreading your lips down there and gathering your creamy wetness on his long fingers, rubbing it all over your folds while soft moans fall from your lips.

His fingers find that place again that makes you cry out in pleasure. He caresses slow loving circles around your swollen nub, making you moan and spread your legs for him, abandoning all earlier shame.

Suddenly you are bold. You want to do more. You want him to do everything a husband is supposed to do to you on your wedding night. You want him to claim you, to make you his, and push his manhood deep into your waiting cunt. No one else but Lord Sukuna should be gifted with your virginity.

"Please take me, Sukuna. I want to be yours, all yours."

There's a fire in his eyes, and his voice sounds rough, full of need as he flicks his thumb over your nub again, making you moan his name as he answers you,

"Then I'll make you mine, sweetheart."

He lifts you as if you are a mere feather. Carrying you over to his large wooden desk and carefully sets you back on your feet, letting you lean against the desk, your back to him. You are breathing heavily, your body brimming with pleasure and nervousness.

Before your nerves get the better of you, Sukuna's strong hands grab the thin fabric of your night dress, his fingers twisting in it, and then he rips the dress off your body in one powerful motion.

The dress slips to the floor, leaving you completely naked in front of The Red Lord. You gulp hard, knowing that his hungry gaze must be traveling over your bare skin right now.

"You are so beautiful, my love. And all mine."

A gentle kiss is pressed to the back of your neck, making you shudder with need, and then you hear the rustling of clothes.

You can't stop yourself from looking over your shoulder, wanting to see him. He is already naked.

He looks like an angel, so glorious and breathtakingly beautiful. Firm defined muscles everywhere, strong arms, and a broad chest. And even down there, he is gorgeous. His cock is thick and long, already erect, resting heavily against the defined muscles of his abdomen.

A dazzling smile blooms on his handsome face when he catches you looking at him. And then he is with you again, stepping behind you, so close that his tall body brushes against your back.

You tremble lightly as his strong hands land on your hips, holding you as he begins to kiss your neck once again. You sigh, relaxing against him, feeling your cunt pulse with arousal, craving him so much that you fear you will pass out.

But Sukuna is there to take care of you, strong and firm behind you, one hand on your hip, the other cupping one of your breasts, massaging it gently, playing with your stiff nipple. And he presses his body against you, his thick cock pushing between your thighs.

He rubs his stiff hard length against you, letting it glide through your wet folds by rolling his hips in a tender slow rhythm. Letting you feel all of him, coating his long, girthy cock with your cream, making it slippery and warm the longer he stays between your legs. You cry out shakily when his gorgeous cock does what his fingers did earlier, massaging your swollen bud.

You are panting loudly by now, your body brimming with pleasure and your face feeling hot as you lean back against Lord Sukuna's broad chest and let him spoil you with his lips and his hands, and his cock.

You're trembling helplessly in his strong arms when the pleasure heightens, and suddenly you get drowned by it, crying out loudly as his cockhead kisses your swollen wet pearl in a way that makes pleasure explode in the little bud. You cling desperately to Sukuna's muscular arms as your body convulses and your cunt twitches and pulses hotly over his thick length.

You have never felt something like this before. It must be what the women in those steamy novels were experiencing with their lovers. And finally, you understand the fascination, the craving to want to feel this again and again.

Lord Sukuna's voice comes out in a low groan when he kisses your neck, and his strong hands caress your breasts with gentle touches. Allowing you to experience that high until the last wave ebbs off.

You turn around in his strong embrace, wrapping your arms around him and kissing him deeply, unashamed now that you feel this bliss. 

You press your naked body against him, whimpering with need when Lord Sukuna pushes your back against the desk, and then he lifts you with a fast, fluid motion, making you sit on the desk with your legs spread for him. You can feel your slick coating the wooden desk beneath you, spreading your heat and arousal over it. But you don't care.

Lord Sukuna's gorgeous cock is back between your folds, caressing you again down there, renewing your arousal. But this time, he leaves your bud after a few strokes and instead settles his thick cockhead at your wet entrance. You tremble for a moment in a mix of arousal and fear. Will it hurt when he takes you? He is so big. 

His cockhead is kissing your tight heat gently, stretching you open around his thick tip for the first time. Your first man, your first lover.

You gasp loudly when Sukuna pushes deeper into your virgin cunt, truly claiming you now. Taking your virginity with a gentle but powerful snap of his hips.

You hiss as a stinging pain makes your legs jerk, but Lord Sukuna stops immediately, long elegant fingers caressing your sides soothingly, and he murmurs against your neck,

"The pain will be over quickly, my love. I will be careful. I'll take good care of you, my sweet girl. You feel so good around me. So warm and wet."

His fingers grab your chin, tilt your face up to him, and he kisses you sweetly as his other hand wanders between your legs to caress those sweet slow circles around your nub again, making your cunt tighten around him as new pleasure surges through you. 

He rocks his hips again, pushing his thick girth into your slick cunt, and your initial pain lessens and gets replaced by a wonderful feeling of being full.

You wrap your arms around him, caressing his muscular back and lifting your hips to welcome him, to let him know you crave him, let him know that he can take you. And he does.

Sukuna groans loudly. His long eyelashes flutter prettily as he moves his hips, thrusting his manhood deep into you and finding a delicious pace that makes you gasp anytime he rams his thick girth back into you, filling you completely.

You discover there is a specific spot deep inside you that makes your body jerk and your hips stutter anytime Lord Sukuna's manhood kisses it. It only takes a short while until your nails dig into Sukuna's back, and you writhe in pleasure against him, feeling hot tears run down your cheeks as the bliss you feel gets more intense with every thrust of his gorgeous thick cock.

But you aren't the only one who gets increasingly lost in the pleasure your lovemaking causes. Loud moans fall from Sukuna's lips, whispered endearments and needy grunts, and then his teeth graze over your neck, and he growls. A sound that sends a shiver down your spine. But not in fear but in excitement.

You cling to him desperately, meeting his powerful deep thrusts, and you catch yourself whimpering,

"Please, take anything you need from me. I want to be yours."

Your mind is hazy with lust, but at the same time, you know full well what you are trying to say. What you are offering to him.

This man in your arms might not be human, and you are fine with it. You want him to show his true self. Need him to do it now that you are as close to him as you can be. Now that you are one with him, filled by his thick cock, your cunt twitching needily around him.

His low voice sounds strained, as if it takes all his strength to hold back.

"You don't know what you're asking for, sweetheart. I can't..."

"I know it, Sukuna. Please...just claim me in every way. I need you to..."

The rest of your words get drowned out by the feral-sounding growl coming from Sukuna. His hands tighten on your waist, and the next thing you know, a sharp pain explodes on your neck.

He did it! He really bit you!

His sharp canines are buried in your neck, drawing blood.

You cry out, but at the same time, intense pleasure washes over you, making your body jerk and your cunt clench needily around Sukuna's manhood.

The pain is gone in a second. Instead, pleasure engulfs you.

You whimper needily, feeling your lover's fangs buried in your flesh. He is sucking at the wound, making your blood spill out, which he drinks hungrily.

You gasp his name, full of longing, and feel something warm trickle down your chest and between your breasts which bounce with every powerful snap of Sukuna's hips.

His mouth leaves your neck to follow that warmth. You realize it is a small rivulet of blood that Sukuna licks up thoroughly, red eyes burning into yours as he looks up at you, tongue flicking over your breasts, licking them clean, moaning at the taste of your life essence in his mouth.

"So sweet, my love. You taste so sweet."

He takes you with even more vigor now, hard deep thrusts that make both of you gasp and moan loudly. A frantic mating, like two animals in heat.

You cry his name when the pressure in your core snaps, and you feel this heavenly bliss wash over you again. The only thing you can do is cling to Sukuna's tall, muscular body sobbing from pleasure while you are coming undone on his gorgeous cock.

His thrusts become faster and harder, making you gasp loudly at the sheer strength he possesses. And then his gorgeous eyes fall shut, and his lips open in a low moan, showing his teeth with the canines that are much longer than usual, looking like a feral beast's fangs, long and sharp with some blood still sticking to them.

You cannot stop looking at him. Sukuna is always stunning, of course, but especially now, at the peak of his pleasure. When his cock is buried to the hilt in your wet cunt as he cums deep inside you. Pulsing his seed into you while your blood is still on his teeth.

You are truly his in every way now.

You are breathing heavily when Sukuna's gaze meets yours, and he captures your lips in a tender kiss before pulling away.

You can't help but look down between your legs, watching in curious fascination as Sukuna pulls out of you. His long thick cock slowly slips out of your stretched cunt, glistening with wetness, coated in your creamy arousal and the evidence of your virginity that he took tonight. Traces of blood paint a filigree pattern on his gorgeous length.

Sukuna moans loudly at the sight, a sound that sends more arousal through you. You want to slip down from the desk, but Sukuna stops you with his hands on your hips. He shakes his head, and before you can ask what he wants, he already sinks to his knees between your legs, strong hands pushing your thighs further apart, exposing all of you to him. His beautiful face disappears between your thighs.

His mouth is soft and tender on your leaking wet heat. He licks and kisses it so gently and lovingly that it makes you cry as your fingers run through his silky hair, lost in the pleasure he gives you.

Sukuna is moaning against your heat as if it brings him just as much joy as it brings you. It's only then that you realize what he is doing. Licking all your virgin blood out of you, tasting the sweetest treat you could offer him.

He kisses a third high out of you, making you whimper weakly as your body shudders and your hips buck as your desire peaks and your cunt twitches against his beautiful face and soft mouth. And Sukuna drinks your pleasure eagerly. Licks your essence out of you as if it is his favorite food.

When he pulls away, you see a faint red stain on his lips. But Sukuna's tongue darts out immediately to lick it up, and his eyes close in pleasure when he gets more of your taste.

As grotesque as it looks, it somehow sends a spark of pride through you. This gorgeous man claimed you in every way. He took your virginity and drank your blood. He made you his like no other man ever could.

A decent maiden shouldn't find this appealing. But you are far from decent nowadays and also not a maiden anymore. The proof of it is still lingering there on Lord Sukuna's tongue.

You don't need to find books about the topic of vampires anymore. You are pretty sure now. All the evidence leads to one assumption: The lord of this castle, the man who kissed you, caressed you and made you his, is a vampire.

And yet you don't leave. You don't even consider it. Because as strange as it may sound, you are happy here in this castle and with The Red Lord.

With Sukuna. Your lover.

He is sweet. He is alluring. He makes you crave him every day. Crave his kiss and his touch and the comfort of his strength and protectiveness.

Love was something you never thought would be possible in your life. A life that had been planned by other people.

Your chaperone had advised you to stop daydreaming about foolish notions like romance. She told you love is something for books or theater plays, but it has no place in everyday life. A woman is supposed to marry a man who her family sees as beneficial, not someone she picks herself and who she loves. She had constantly lectured you that marriage wasn't about love. It was about obedience, learning how to serve your husband, and make his life more comfortable. The sooner you understood this, the sooner you'd be happy.

But that thought never made you happy. The opposite was the case. It made you despair.

But now you feel your chest fill with warmth anytime you think about Sukuna. Your heart beats faster when he is near you. You feel happiness fill you when he smiles at you.

Lord Sukuna is different from how everyone told you a man would be.

He is gentle and respectful. A passionate lover in the bedroom who always makes sure that you find completion and enjoy what he is doing to you. Oh, and how you enjoy it. His kisses and touches are addictive, making you tumble into a hazy blissfulness that sends your head spinning.

But it's not just that carnal aspect that draws you so much to Sukuna. It's the way he treats you in every other aspect too. The respectfulness, the care, the humor. It's the shared interests the two of you have. It's the tenderness that this powerful man allows you to see.

He asks you to keep him company in his library. Invites you to read to him, and in turn, he reads to you. He recites love poems and dark gothic tales in his velvety low voice while his strong arms wrap around you in a loving embrace.

He lets you help him pick new roses for his garden, names them after you, and watches you with pride in those beautiful glittering jewel eyes when you tell him you want to water them yourself from now on.

He plays the piano for you, making tears well up in your eyes at how beautiful and delicate the sounds of his music are. How tragic and heart-wrenching those songs sound. The melodies carry a tale of centuries of loneliness to your ears.

When you ask him with a choked-up voice who composed those pieces since you have never heard them before, he smiles and tells you he is the one who did.

"I had a lot of time to do those things, my angel. But I didn't make music for a long time since it didn't bring me joy to perform for an empty room. I'm truly blessed I can play for you now, darling."

He visits you in your room almost every night. Comes to your bed and wraps you in his strong embrace. His body is so solid and heavy on top of you, but his touch is loving and tender, and he always takes the utmost care of you. He makes love to your whole body, kisses you, and caresses you in all the right places, sets your senses on fire as you gasp his name and come undone on his gorgeous manhood over and over again.

He feels cold to the touch, but his skin grows warmer when he lies with you. That may be why he likes to stay for hours in your bed. And after a few weeks, he doesn't bother getting up again but stays the whole night, wrapping his tall, muscular body around you and holding you to his firm chest.

You have never slept that peacefully before.

You have long accepted that your lover must be a vampire. And yet, Sukuna never admits it. He apologized to you after that passionate night in the library. Apologized for losing control and biting you. Claimed that it was a stupid accident and he never meant to actually drink your blood.

"I am deeply sorry, my love. It was in the heat of pleasure, and I wanted to claim you as mine, give you a little bite mark. But I misjudged my strength. It won't happen again."

You try to reassure him, try to make him see that it is fine. But Sukuna changes the topic anytime you try to confront him. He smiles his most charming smile and ignores your attempts to discuss the matter, distracting you with a new book or a new idea for the rose garden, or, if nothing else works, he just kisses you until you shut up.

You try to come to terms with the fact that you might never be able to get him to confess the truth. But it bugs you. You stare at the beautiful man in your arms, wanting to know everything about him and wanting him to see that you love him the way he is and that he doesn't have to hide from you. 

But how can you achieve that?

And then fate offers you a chance you didn't expect. One of your excursions through the castle leads you to a dusty room in the highest tower, and you stumble upon an old battered box that contains things from a former inhabitant, apparently. Some necklaces and old letters, lacey handkerchiefs, and a pearl ring. But you only have eyes for one thing:

A golden hand mirror.

Your heart is hammering in your chest when you hear the door of your bedroom open and the soft footsteps of the man you love as he makes his way over to where you are sitting with your back to him at your desk.

With shaky hands, you lift the small hand mirror and angle it in a way that lets you see yourself and the room behind you.

Your breath catches in your throat. You see your own face very clearly, but where the reflection of Sukuna should be is nothing.

You turn around in your chair, staring at him with wide eyes. His gaze meets yours. A shadow flickers over his beautiful face, and there is a deep sadness in his gorgeous red jewel eyes.

"So you found out after all."

He sounds defeated. His usually so sultry voice is full of regret as he continues softly,

"You can leave anytime you want, my love. I will arrange everything for safe travel and ensure you find a good place to live and never have to worry about money."

You blink at him, tears gathering in your eyes. It breaks your heart to see him like this, to see the sadness in his eyes.

You drop the mirror, and before Sukuna can utter another word, you get up from your desk so fast that you knock your chair over and send the mirror flying.

But you don't care about the chair or the mirror. You fling yourself at Sukuna. Wrapping your arms around him and hugging him tightly, pressing your body against his and burying your face in his firm chest as you cling tightly to him.

"No! I don't want to go! I want to stay with you!"

You lift your head to look at him, seeing the surprise flash over his flawless features, the way his pretty eyes widen, and he blinks as if he can't understand what is happening. A tentative cold hand cups the back of your head and gently pets your hair.

"But... aren't you scared of me now, darling?"

He says it as if he can't believe you are still here. That he can't believe you are touching him, holding him, when he expected you to scream and run.

You smile softly at him and shake your head.

"No, I am not scared. What difference does it make what you are, Sukuna? That was what I was trying to make you see. That's why I was so adamant about finding out the truth. I know many people call your kind monsters, but I haven't encountered a single monster since I came to this castle. I only met a very kind man who took me in when I was injured and who took care of me and protected me from the people who wanted to bring harm to me. You aren't a monster to me, Sukuna. The only monsters I have met so far have all been human."

The sadness in his eyes gets replaced by a tenderness that makes your heart clench. Lord Sukuna's hand tightens in your hair, bringing you closer to him. He leans down to press a gentle kiss on your forehead.

His low velvety voice is full of wonder when he says,

"You never cease to amaze me, my love."

You laugh softly as you tighten your arms around him, feeling relief wash over you.

"I love you, Sukuna. Can I please stay with you?"

You can see the warmth in his eyes and the wonderous joy on his handsome features as he smiles at you and laughs softly.

"Of course, you can stay. I will be delighted if you stay forever. I love you too, darling."

The months pass, but here in the castle, time doesn't seem to exist. Not when every day spent with Sukuna is so full of joy. And now that he doesn't have to hide his true self anymore, you are blessed with learning about the life of an immortal.

You love the long evenings you and Sukuna spend cuddling together on the large red settee in the library, naked under a warm blanket, letting your hands and lips explore Sukuna's gorgeous body while he tells you tales about his life. About all the different cultures and traditions he encountered in all the centuries he spent on this earth.

There is no heartbeat thrumming under your palms when you press them against your lover's chiseled chest. There is no pulse when you brush heated kisses over his neck. But there is so much warmth inside you when you are this close to him. And a matching warmth is in his gorgeous eyes when he cups your face and smiles at you.

"One day, I will show you all of this. We can go anywhere you like, my love. People get suspicious if I stay in one place too long. So we will have to keep moving. But you can pick our next destination."

You smile at the implications of Sukuna's words. 

Three days ago, he got on one knee in front of you in the middle of the rose garden, holding out a beautiful gold ring with a ruby as red as his eyes in its center. Now that ring sparkles on your finger.

It's a promise. A promise that you will be Sukuna's companion through countless lifetimes. His beloved bride, who he will turn into one of his kind so the two of you can be together for eternity.

Lovers until the end of time itself.

Thank you so much for reading part two of my Sukuna vampire story! I am happy but, at the same time, a bit sad to leave Lord Sukuna and his gothic castle behind now. It was so comforting to disappear into this world. I hope this story could offer you comfort too!

Thank you so much for all the love I received for this short series! It means a lot to me to see that you enjoyed it! Please let me know what you think about the second part. Comments and reblogs make me happy!

The book Sukuna reads to Reader in his library is "Dracula" by Bram Stoker, a new novel that had just been released, and of course, Sukuna had to get his hands on it to check how Mr. Stoker portrayed someone of Sukuna's kind :) 

[sage-is-in-fact-very-tired]

chat. chat that new addition to the c!sherb playlist. *chat the new addition to the c!sherb playlist.* going crazy bonkers about it, actually. me when Solitary Confinement. it's such a song. (/pos) "And every day, I wake and hear the pounding drum of failure in my head." shaking it?? cause like. *yeah.* "am I really doing nothing? Or am I reaching out to something? Someone waiting to catch me on the otherside" something something they want people to *see* want they're doing - good or bad something something but they're not really doing much, are they? something something but maybe they are, because despite everything they still try to *talk* to the people they called family, reach out to them even if it doesn't go how they want something something. "you cannot isolate me past the walls that I have built. So, send your condolence cards thinking I've been held against my will." Shaking this line cause its so. something something Icarus has built their walls you so far you *cannot* isolate them further because all they've done us burn bridges something something everyone maybe had this belief that fable was holding them there, but now, after Athena, they know he's not. or, not in the way they initially thought something something (he's holding them there because he promises things the others can't seem to give. he holds that above their head, and it keeps them there, because they have to do *something*) "and I've started to ignore the check engine light in hopes that a breakdown might give me a sign, oh" I know the song is talking about a car, but you could so see it being about quixis. ignoring quixis, ignoring the way they're tettering at the edge of a cliff too tall, ignoring it all - because maybe when something about that changes, it breaks or cracks or *something* (or *they* do) it give them the sign they finally need to run or leave. "And there is fear in solitary, isn't it sobering? And there is pain in solitary, isn't it sobering?" The two lines prior to this are about how there's bliss in solitary and that's so. something something it started out good and nice because they could hide it and it was *okay* (or okay as it couldve been after centross) and now they're just scared and hurt and *alone* (because their dad isnt there. and no one else is. And they won't admit to being scared or hurt outloud it's so so clear they *are*) something something. and the final line "I like being alone" is so. something something Icarus trying to convince themself something something

[purplecandygerl]

“I miss you” he mumbled as his gaze never left the bright city lights that luminates the cold night sky above him, a sight of opportunity to improve what he has now, something he wouldn’t have back at his home. 

“Is that how you greet people now Levi?” a soft chuckle was heard from the end of the line which never failed to leave him breathless, the payment for a stable future with you, is the distance of the endless oceans in between the two of you. 

“How was your day?” This has been his daily routine for five years now, instead of being able to hold you on his arm after a tiring day at work, cuddled up on a couch as you ramble about your day. 

Here he was in complete isolation, alone, and dreading in his spacious unit. His only source of you is through a small screen fitting his palms, only the comfort of your voice keeps him sane every single day. Questioning himself whether he chose the right decision.

“Levi?” he hummed, ignoring the sound of cars hooting in the background of your line “I never once regret supporting your decision even if it meant to keep us apart, I hope you do too” god, you know him too well. Even in this dreadful setting, your presence never seems to waver at his. “I love you” 

That is it

he cannot take it anymore

Spending another day without you would truly end him

"I have to go now, darling... I'll call you tomorrow."

“Wait Le–”  abruptly drops the line, as he reaches for his disgraced coat, every step reaching the door fills with hope.

5 damn years, he finally reach his limit

Damn all the expenses to get you here

Let him be homeless for all he cares

Hasty opening his entrance, only for a familiar (h/c) haired greets his sight, outside of his unit, knuckles already positioned to knock on his door.

He must be dreaming right?

With all those thinking he has been doing

He must have lost his mind

To see you standing outside his apartment

“Uhm” averting your gaze from him, feeling bad for not informing him of your arrival.

“Surprise? I wante–” Before you could explain yourself, you were already pulled to his hard chest, arms tightly wrapped around your waist, something that tells you he won't be letting you go as soon as he engulfs your scent.

“You brat” he sigh relaxedly “I was supposed to bring you here” removing yourself from his grasp cupping his cheeks, meeting his glistening grey eyes

“I'm sorry, but I cannot wait for another day to be separated from you” you confessed, just like that, the dam of tears finally reached its limit, tears won’t stop flowing down his cheeks, wiping off the fallen tears with your thumb as he finds himself leaning against your lips.

He doesn't have to be alone anymore

None of you have to be alone anymore 

“I’m home, Levi” 

“Welcome back home, [Name]”

[metal-mouse]

Not the One to Worship, Not the One to Blame

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x gn!Slytherin MC (no y/n used)

themes: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: swearing, trauma, panic attacks, depression, self-isolating

summary: 1.4k word vomit. The battle against Ranrok is over. You are in your sixth year, and now have to deal with the aftermath that is emotion and nightmarish memories. Despite having kept Sebastian Sallow's secret, you have no interest in his friendship. However, he certainly makes a good scapegoat for all of your pain.

note: This is the first piece of writing I have posted publicly in over 10 years. It is going to be rough, as I am very out of practice. I never expected to write anything to post ever again, but I've had such a massive streak of inspiration I figured I'd put myself out there. Be gentle with me because I'm a big baby but be honest - I'm getting better at receiving feedback. I also don’t edit anything ever, so there’s probably plenty of bad grammar/confusing sentence structure/spelling errors. 

You stood alone at the top of the astronomy tower alone, hugging yourself tightly against the chilled air as you watched the sun set. The silence was welcome compared to the chaos of the Great Hall over supper. With hundreds of students meeting together at the same time, the sound of countless conversations overwhelmed you far too easily. You had eaten quickly and excused yourself from the company of Ominis, ignoring the concerned look on his face. You knew he worried, but he also knew enough to respect when you needed your space. It was one of your favourite things about him. 

The world around you was washed in a gentle golden glow that you desperately wanted to enjoy. The colours of the sky were beautiful, but no emotions stirred inside of you. You remained numb and empty. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d smiled. You wished you could feel something other than this awful cycle of misery, anger, fear, and hollowness. You wished that people would leave the past in the past. Every time a classmate brought up Ranrok’s defeat at your hands you felt like you were going to be sick. Your chest would tighten, and a clammy feeling would cling to the back of your neck as the rest of your body felt smothered by flames and smoke. You had been furious with Professor Black for being the one to share your involvement in the battle and causing this endless stream of praise and questions. All you wanted was to forget. 

Even worse than thinking about Ranrok was seeing Sebastian in the halls, in your classes, in your common room. You may have spared him from expulsion and imprisonment, but you still hadn’t found it in yourself to forgive him. Perhaps the blame you placed on him was unfair, perhaps he was an easy scapegoat for your pain. He had, afterall, caused a great amount of that pain. Yet, you weren’t any better than he was. Every night you dreamed of flashes of green and how the light left Victor Rookwood’s blue eyes… Dozens of men and countless goblins lay dead at your hand, and people actually celebrated you for this. In the beginning, you had been intrigued by the power you held. You had been eager to learn it and grow it. You had liked having a unique power that put you above others. Now, you wanted nothing more than to turn back time. You wished you’d never found out about this magic. You wished that none of this had ever happened. 

You were deep enough in your spiraling thoughts that you hadn’t noticed your unwelcome company until a warm cloak was placed over your shoulders. You flinched, immediately in attack mode as you looked at your intruder. Sebastian Sallow didn’t look at you. Instead, he put his hands on the railing and leaned out to see the world below. 

“I’ll go away if you want me to.” He said, breaking the tense silence. You watched him apprehensively, without saying a word. Sebastian took that as permission to remain in your presence. 

“What do you want?” You asked. 

“I may not be your favourite person right now, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care. You’re not alright.” Sebastian looked over at you. You scowled at the way he jumped straight to the point. The empty feeling inside of you was slowly replaced with anger. Not alright? What fucking gave it away? Why the hell was Sebastian the first person to bring it up besides Ominis - who had been there when you started to truly fall apart? 

“I’m fine.” You said. 

“I haven’t seen you smile since the year started - it’s now February. Not at Ominis. Not when you’re brushing Puffskeins with Poppy. You don’t even smile when Weasley makes his stupid jokes.” Sebastian stood and took a step towards you. It felt like his eyes were burning into your face. All you wanted was for him to look at anything but you. How dare he talk to you about this. Talk to you about your happiness - which he fucking stole from you. Why was he even paying attention in the first place? You adjusted his cloak around you, hating how warm it was and how it smelled like Sebastian. 

“If I haven’t smiled, it’s your fault.” A low blow. Sebastian’s nostrils flared and hurt filled his eyes, but he tilted his head as if to encourage you to carry on. You didn’t. 

“The last time I checked, you were the one acting so miserable. It’s you who doesn’t bother to even try anymore.” 

“I don’t have to try anymore. I’m a hero, Sebastian, everyone will love me all the same. Who cares if I’m miserable?” you spat out, “Can’t you see it? I don’t get to have emotions! Only people have feelings. I’m merely a tool to be used - a weapon if you will - whenever someone needs to use me. It makes it so much easier for everyone to forget what happens under the surface of battle. To forget the atrocities I’ve committed. The horrors I’ve seen. You wouldn’t understand it.” Sebastian’s eyes were wide as he stared at you. 

“Is that truly what you think? That I don’t understand? You’re not the only one who went through hell last year. I was right there the entire time. I helped you fight trolls, goblins, spiders, poachers, must I go on? 

I saw the look on your face when you came back from killing Victor Rookwood, and I knew before anyone else did what had happened. Want to know how? Because I know how it feels to fucking take someone’s life.” Sebastian bellowed, making you take a step backwards. You glanced towards the stairwell, hoping nobody was nearby to eavesdrop. 

He had been there. Sebastian had known from the beginning what you were going through, and he had helped - even if it put his life in danger. His true motives may have ultimately lain elsewhere, but you knew he didn’t want to see any more people harmed at Ranrok’s hands. Guilt pushed its way through your unjustified anger. He was certainly making it difficult to blame him for more than what he deserved. 

“Just leave me alone, Sebastian.” You whispered. He shook his head, his lips pressed in a firm line. His brown eyes were unusually glassy, almost as if he was trying to hold back tears.

“Whether you like it or not, I understand.” He was still shaking his head, stray tears indeed spilling from his eyes. Sebastian’s lips fell into a frown and quivered a little. It was an ugly face, he was not a pretty crier. Something in this insignificant flaw of his made you pause. Seeing him feel so strongly about how you felt… To show these emotions to you, this clearly meant a lot to him. You meant a lot to him. You approached him carefully, reaching up tentatively and wiped away an errant tear. 

“I know, Sebastian. I… I don’t blame you for this. None of it.” You looked down at your feet, your hand still on his cheek. 

“And I think you’re far more than a weapon. You don’t have to be the hero with me, you can be just you. I just want to see you smile.” Sebastian very carefully took your hand in his. You looked back up to his face, and you knew he meant it. 

“Can we try again?” You asked. He exhaled deeply, you could see the thoughts racing in his mind. 

“I think something could be arranged.” Ominis Gaunt’s voice made both of you jump. He stood at the top of the stairs, fidgeting with his wand. Sebastian’s hand squeezed yours tightly. Ominis walked towards where you stood, his cheeks flushed and an uncertain look on his face. Ominis held out his hand for Sebastian, who dropped yours instantly and grasped it. They shook hands firmly, and then Sebastian pulled Ominis in for a hug. 

“Boundaries! Sebastian! I will be placing firm boundaries!” Ominis protested, but his arms wrapped around his friend all the same. You let out a weak laugh that was more of a huff full of emotion. You didn’t know fully what this meant, or how anything would play out, but you knew that this would be easier with Sebastian and Ominis on your team. On each other’s team. Life was either going to get better from here, or worse, but you supposed it could be bearable if you lived it with people you cared about. You felt awful for targeting Sebastian like that. He hadn’t deserved all your hatred. Some anger and resentment, sure, but not all of it. As Ominis complained about the cold and coaxed you both back inside, you silently resolved to make it up to Sebastian. You could support him, just as he supported you.

[riddle2d]

mortal whims

Malleus Draconia + GN! Reader , Could be read as romantic or platonic!

━  Malleus often finds himself befuddled by the whims of mortals, especially when you happen to be involved.

R: N/A 

Mortal men were envious creatures. It was human nature, of course, to despise what you could not reach, to fear what you could not understand. The children of Night Raven College were no different. Cruel and selfish, ignorant and incorrigible.

Malleus was a cut above the rest, a prodigy among the best of the best. Malleus was no stranger to isolation, to lone nights of wandering. Even among those who should be his own, he was practically a stranger. How could one connect with those around them when he was so painfully disconnected from everyone he met? Being at the top was a very lonely thing.

It didn’t matter to Malleus that he was alone, of course. How could the future ruler of Briar Valley, a king long awaited by many, be felled by something as trivial as a bout of loneliness? Malleus was above the petty fights and animosity of humans. 

Malleus had no need for a friend. Malleus had no need for an invitation on his table, Malleus had no need for a bright smile and someone to be pleased with his presence.

He found, however, that mortals often did not care for the whims of others.

Malleus had no need for a friend, but you had entered his life with the grace of a raging bull, sporting an ignorant smile and complete and utter disregard for the politics of his world.

“So, you won’t give me a name… Hornton, then!” You had proclaimed, grinning at him with a smile that would have blinded the best of men.

And the best of men you were, so kind even when you had been treated with nothing but disdain by the majority of the students you had come across.

Cold distance and polite words, stiff stance and detached apathy. None of this seemed to distance you from him. In fact, it seemed to make you do nothing but reach more. 

Malleus had no need for an invitation on his table. But you saw his walls, sky high and impenetrable, and struck them down with little more than a smile and an invitation to a contest. A contest you were the manager for.

Malleus had no need for a bright smile and someone to be pleased with his presence. But the grin on your face, unshakable and utterly overjoyed at his attendance despite the terror on the faces of your fellow contestants...

Malleus found that perhaps he had needed this after all.

━ I don’t know about you guys, but I’ve always viewed Malleus as juuuust a lil bit arrogant? IDK, with his sheltered upbringing and how the other people in the game treat him, I’ve always seen him as the kind of guy who’s not used to being told no ^_^” because who would tell THE malleus no? also if it’s not clear, he’s kind of unreliable as a narrator here?? lilia and silver and sebek DO care for him but i imagine he probably doesn’t truly understand that. I don’t really know how to write malleus, so this is good practice!! im doin my best