#since then in his reincarnations that remains | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

honeykaes · 7 months

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to land and sea

neuvillette x adepti!reader II 2.7k

warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact, afab!reader with no set pronouns, yandere themes, adepti!reader, reader is from fontaine, monsterfucking, pool sex, biting, creampie, cunnilingus, overstimulation, praise, hurt/comfort, angst, cucking, non consensual voyeurism, mention of blood, fontaine story spoilers, unedited

synopsis: with lanturn rite finally done, you decide to go relax at luhua pool only to find your former lover you haven’t seen in centuries confused on what your doing there.

The end of Lanturn Rite always felt freeing to you. With fewer responsibilities of protecting the harbor from threats to ruin the event, you finally had an opportunity to use your time as you saw fit—and most importantly, get away from him for a little while.

You walked along Luhua Pools, letting your bare curl themselves in the soft sand. The area was desolate from humans and adepti alike, for now, only accompanied by an occasional singing sparrow or the soft ruffles of swaying trees. You always admired the pools. The blues and faint greens of the vibrant waters always reminded you of your former homeland.

Your eyes gazed at a sparrow beginning to flap its wings heading northwest beyond the large mountains of Liyue. Your eyes softened as your smile began to falter wondering if that bird would be headed towards Fontaine.

How long has it been since you were in that nation…at home? Was there still a home there for you?

You pull the robes of your attire, folding them up and placing them on the base of a nearby tree before picking one of the smaller pools and dipping into the waters. You shivered, your body trying to adjust to the temperature before letting your body completely submerge itself in the pool.

Would the cobblestone be the same? Would the food and culture be the same?

You knew how quickly humans adapted, even in Liyue. You had already heard and witnessed Fontaine’s technological feats during this Lanturn Rite. They were the nation now leading in technology, a far cry from how things used to be when you were there.

You wondered what happened to Furina.

…To Neuvillette.

“What became of you, Neuvillette…” you whispered to yourself. Your mind spiraled trying to remember his appearance from hundreds of years ago. Did he still keep that noble shape of his?

Did the reincarnation of the former dragon sovereign still have those lilac eyes of his that softened whenever he tucked a rainbow rose in your ear?

You dipped further in the water, blowing bubbles in the salty pool before sighing once more.

“I miss you…”

A few hours pass as sunset begins to settle. Golden hour begins brightly as its rays highlight your skin as you sway your arms admiring the ripples of the water.

Swoosh.

Your eyes dart up, looking around you to search for where that strange noise is coming from. Was it him? You didn’t exactly want to deal with your lord at the moment; you had plenty of time forced at his side for Lanturn Rite.

Your eyes whipped around scanning the land, but you didn’t see anything unusual. As you moved your gaze to the sea where the various pools resided you narrowed your eyes seeing a strange blue glowing coming from beneath the waters. It was moving fast, whatever this was, was an adept swimmer.

Before you summoned your weapon and left the pool to get your clothes, you gasped watching a head pop up from where the glowing was coming from. His hair was long and as white as snow, flowing behind him like a small river adorned with two stripes of blue. His skin was pale and dewy from the water, also illuminated in gold from the sunset.

Your eyes felt misty focusing on every curve of his face: his high cheekbones, his thin rosy lips. After all these years, he kept the same form.

“Neuvillette…” you called out. You couldn’t stop those words from leaving your mouth. His head slowly turned to meet yours, eyes widening in recognition as he looked at your form in the pool.

The two of you remained frozen, drinking up each other's appearance desperate to make sure each other's eyes were not playing tricks.

His gaze softened before he soon swam near you. Water clung to his suit as he descended up to the pool you rescinded in. He kneeled near the edge, leaning down to your size.

“It’s you right? (Y/n)...” he muttered before placing his hand on your cheek. You leaned into his touch, chuckling as tears cascaded down your cheeks. The corners of his mouth curved upwards as his thumb tenderly caressed you.

“I thought the usurpers would never allow my eyes to gaze upon yours again. I should have come to this nation much sooner,” Neuvillette whispered. You shook your head, hastily wiping your tears.

“What are you doing here anyway? How’s Furina?” you asked. Neuvillette’s eyes twinged in pain, a sad smile coaxed over him as clouds began to form blocking the golden light of the sun.

“ She…freed her people of their curse. The nation of Fontaine is thriving more than ever,” he replied. He turned his head away, smile faltering, recalling the months that still haunted him.

“...Furina did? I wish Egeria lived to see it. I’m sure Furina is as happy as ever—”

”...The cost was a part of her life. She destroyed her throne for her people. She is now just a human, set to age as all others do,” he admitted. Your gaze leaves his, looking down at your bare body.

“I see…” you trailed off. Your heart ached. You wondered if she still remembered you. Both she and Neuvillette had to go through such troubles alone. You wondered if they felt abandoned by you.

You take a deep breath trying to process everything. You were even sure if you’d be able to see Furina in her human lifetime.

”I hope she didn’t think I abandoned her before she passed. I hope you didn’t either. I left to try to find a solution to our problem, asking the other Archons for their help or ideas but…I ran into trouble as you can imagine,” you whispered. The softness in Neuvillette’s eyes hardened quickly momentarily.

“If you’re in Liyue, I’m guessing it has something to do with Morax?” he asked. You ball your fist tightly beneath the water, nails harpooning against your palm before sighing and letting it go.

“I was almost killed by these..abyssal beasts and their poison before he found me. Apparently, he was familiar with my work in Fontaine. He offered his help to save my life and give me a solution to Fontaine’s problem. In desperation, I agreed. I was forced to become one of his adepti by that contract,” you revealed.

Neuvillette sighed, anger coaxing his brows but he didn’t touch further on your life with Morax.

“Shouldn’t your contract be fulfilled now that Fontaine is saved?” Neuvillette asked. You clenched your jaw, slowly shaking your head.

“...No. Our contract had been written that he had to give me the solution. By not telling me himself, our contract is now fulfilled and I’m stuck subservient to him. I tried to go back to Fontaine but…”

You sighed, pressing your lips against his soft palm resting on your cheek. You missed his touch, it always calmed you in times of uncertainty. Neuvillette’s gaze softened once more as he leaned in, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

“I missed you,” you whispered.

“I missed you more. Furina always said I looked happier whenever you were with me,” he replied. Your arms reached out, placing your hands on his cheeks. His eyes still had that same love and loneliness peeking through his long white eyelashes as you last saw them. He was the same as before…but yet different.

Whatever had happened in Fontaine had changed him.

You slowly leaned, pressing your lips against his own. The juxtaposition of the softness of his lips and the electricity igniting by his touch in your once barren veins was jarring; but yet it remained as slow and sensual, desperate to reclaim the hundreds of years they’ve been apart from.

At the moment, you two felt as though you were back in Fontaine 500 years ago, in a field of rainbow roses near the sea, promising each other everything was going to work out.

You leaned away feeling a sharp pain on your bottom lip and the taste of iron on your tongue. The haze in Neuvillette’s eyes lightened up, realizing his mistake as he tongue grazed one of his elongated canines. He cleared his throat in slight embarrassment.

“I apologize. It’s been a long time since I had these types of desires and affection,” he admitted. You smiled as your hands trailed down finding their way on his neckpiece, slowly taking it off.

“As have I,” you whispered. One by one, his articles of clothing that were soaked in seawater—adorned in the finest materials and jewels—fell onto the sand of the beach. In his nude form, he slowly dipped in the pool, joining you.

Your hands wandered through his body, admiring the sapphire scales that sometimes shined on his shoulders. As your hands gently glided on them, his body shuttered in response. He sucked a sharp breath in, feeling your hand grab his hardening cock, pumping gently.

His cock held unnatural bumps and ridges. As it grew thicker and longer in your palm, you could see the bluish tone beneath the water. This was one indication that he wasn’t human; he was the incarnation of the hydro dragon sovereign after all.

Neuvillette bit his lip hard, showing off the elongated fangs peeking through his lip. His thigh moved your leg as his hand dipped beneath the water to cup your cunt. A soft moan escaped from your lips feeling his long fingers rub between your folds before settling on your clit.

“Neuvillette,” you whimpered out. It was a forgotten melody he had missed, your voice in that tone—it brought shivers throughout his body.

His other hand, grab your hand that was wrapped around his now pulsating cock before lifting it and placing it on his chest.

”I don’t want anyone else to take you away from me…” he whispered. Neuvillette leaned in once more, pressing a soft kiss on your lips before diving beneath the water of the pool. You paused, blinking to try to process what he was up to.

“Neuvillette what are you— Oh!” you yelped. You feel his tight grip on the globe of your ass and thigh. He widened your legs, admiring the view of your quivering hole beneath the glistening light above. He leaned in, opening his mouth wide, before taking a long stripe of your cunt.

”God, I miss this taste. I always went crazy going through my ruts without getting to taste you again,” he muttered but you couldn’t hear as all that came up to the surface was bubbles. His tongue swirls against your clit, sucking the nub hard as you can feel his nails beginning to elongate and prod at the skin he clung onto.

You squirmed under his touch, trying to grind your pelvis to get any bit of friction you could to satiate your desires. Neuvillette offered a tender kiss on your clit before smiling.

”I hope you can forgive me if I become too rough..” Neuvillette murmured.

He opened his mouth again, prodding his tongue out, and soon began to grow longer and thicker in size. Pressing itself at your entrance, his elongated tongue slowly sank inside of you— shuddering at the taste of your arousal mixed with the waters of the Luhua Pools.

Your hands grabbed at his now glowing antenna on top of his head as he groaned beneath you in response. He pumped his tongue inside of you, keeping your body in place, as you tried to squirm from his touch.

Moving his grip around, he moved one hand to toy with your clit. While he rubbed tight circles along the bundle of nerves, his tongue curled against your spongy walls. You grabbed a mound of your chest, arching your back as the muffled noises of his name came from above.

Your essences flooded his tongue as Neuvillette desperately drank every drop that gushed out of you. As he slipped his tongue out of you, he left your overstimulated clit with one more kiss before lifting his upper body to the surface. You leaned against his firm chest, catching your breath.

“Was that too much…?” he whispered, pressing another kiss on top of your head. You shook your head, breath heavy as you tried to come down from your high.

”No. I want more of you Neuvillette,” you whispered, gaze half-lidded looking up at him. His thumb pressed against your bottom lip as he leaned in with a soft smile.

”Then more you shall receive,” he replied. Neuvillette lifted your chin before capturing your lips once more.

Neuvillette hooked your leg up as his cock slid itself against your puffy folds. Your body trembled as his blueish tip grazed against your clit. He soon sank his cock inside of you slowly. As he sheathed himself deeper inside, you could feel the faint burn from your walls stretching out to accommodate his large size.

His lips peppered themselves throughout your chin and neck before he finally bottomed out. Letting your leg go, you quickly wrapped your legs around his thin waist as he reached deeper inside of you.

He lifted his head, leaning in close to let his nose graze yours.

“I don’t want this moment to ever end. I loved you then, I love you now. I always will,” he whispered. You two share another kiss before he begins to move. His hips rocked as the waves rippled in the pool to his pace.

One of his large hands found a way to your ass once more, gripping it tight as he rutted against you faster. You can feel his tip curve and nudge against your cervix.

As your head lulled to the side, focusing on the pleasure ripping through your body, Neuvillette gently grabbed your chin while grunting.

”Please don’t look away…I want to burn your expression into my mind…” he softly begged. His thumb pressed against your bottom lip, wiping the drool peaking out before you gently bit down the tip of it.

Your walls fluttered, squeezing against Neuvillette’s cock pulsating and thrusting inside of you. You feel his nails sinking into the spongy flesh of your ass.

”Neuvil…ette. Neuvill—ette. Neuvillette!” you stammered out. Your eyes shut tight in pleasure, as a whine left your lips. With an inhumane growl, Neuvillette buried his face into your neck, cock throbbing inside of you before his hips began to falter.

Tears pricked your eyes as you clung to him tighter, crying out his name. Your walls clamped down, quivering as you climaxed. Neuvillette struggled to continue, his ruts getting slower and sloppier.

With a few thrusts, he shuttered, holding you tight as he emptied himself inside of you. You could feel globs of his thick cum filling you up as he gently bucked inside of you, nursing himself from your high.

You kept your eyes closed. Sweat clung to your forehead as you tried to catch your breath. Neuvillette lifted his head from the nape of your neck admiring your look. Just as he gently caressed your cheek, his eyes narrowed, noticing an odd sigil glowing that wasn’t there before.

A Geo sigil.

Neuvillette held you tight, shielding your form as he watched a man emerge from behind you in silence.

”I thought avoiding you would have been the best situation, but to think you’d find them…” the formerly known god as Morax murmured with a practiced saccharine smile on his face.

Neuvillette was thankful your back was to him. His golden eyes were slitted in pindrops and glowing in envy. He was trying to hold his anger back.

”The Usurper Morax, know this: I’m done with you all taking things that don’t belong to you,” Neuvillette stated, narrowing his eyes.

Zhongli simply put his hand behind himself, closing his eyes as he pondered Neuvillette’s words momentarily before a soft chuckle left his lips.

“And that’s where you're wrong. Although you control the notion of justice, I still have authority over contracts,” Zhongli replied. His eyes opened, much colder than before. The earth began to shake slightly—a warning of what he was still capable of.

“You got a taste of your desires. Now, you should head back to your newly settled nation. I don’t think after such conflicts, a war is what you would look to have. No?”

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette smut #neuvillette imagines #neuvillette scenarios #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader

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cordeliawhohung · 5 months

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Strangers

john price x fem!reader | masterlist | ao3

interwoven; maledicted

John Price remembers every life he's ever lived. When death takes him in one universe, he's born into the next with all his memories and past experiences still intact. Throughout the lives he's lived, you're the only thing that ever seems to quell the ache in his chest, and he spends every life searching for your comfort. Except, in this life, he's too late

cw: soulmate!au, murder, suicide, feticide, kidnapping, drugging, possessive john price, non-con elements, one shot, dead dove: do not eat!!!

In every life you’ve ever lived, John Price finds you.

He’s drawn to you like an animal is drawn to its cage. The glint of the metal bars look like stars if he squints hard enough, and the smell of blood and iron is the fairest perfume in the world. There is no life that he wishes to live without you in it. Tucked close to his chest in bed at night. Curled up underneath his thumb. Where you go, he follows you, hidden in the shadows until he’s ready to reveal himself as the soulmate who’s been tracking you across eons worth of lives.

It’s a simple curse. One that’s haunted him since he first poofed into existence so long ago he can’t recall how much time has passed. Forever bound to remember every life he’s ever lived while everyone else debates the possibility of a god or heaven, forgetting their reincarnated selves in other universes. It’s a particularly lonely ailment. He had been locked in chains in one life for attempting to convince the world that there was life after death, not through a god, but through sheer human will. Had to sever the artery in his tongue with his teeth and drink down his blood to escape a life of imprisonment, and just like he knew he would, he woke up in his next life a free man.

These days, he spends his lives on something more worthwhile: you. Just as he does, you look the same in every universe with a smile he knows by touch alone and a laugh that is the only melody that can soothe the immortal ache in his chest. He’s fried his brain with drugs and killed his liver with drink, forever carrying the burden of memory, and yet throughout his travels, you remain the only thing capable of soothing that terrible ache that haunts him. If death has already taken you in one life, he kills himself and moves onto the next, a wild man forever on the hunt for you.

The only other thing that stays consistent throughout his many lives besides the desire to be yours, is the taste of fresh tea. He prefers Yorkshire tea, but the Earl Grey they substitute at the shop is fine enough. Quiet muttering fills the air around him as he sits in the corner of the shop, alone with his thoughts. He takes a sip of the tea, allowing the hint of lavender to wash over his tongue as if cleansing him. It’s the only thing that tastes and smells like home. Besides you, of course; but he hasn’t found you yet, and it’s getting late.

Usually, he’s lucky enough to find you by the time both of you are in your twenties. It’s easy to win you over at that age. He holds a maturity well beyond his years, and you hold a wide-eyed innocence that has you in his grasp before you even realize it. But he’s in his thirties, and that has him anxious. Too much time has passed — a decade more than usual — which leaves him with a variety of possibilities. Ones he doesn’t like entertaining.

No matter. He’s learned to be somewhat patient over the countless lifetimes spent searching for you, because it always pays off in the end. All the marriages, the children you have, the love you make. John Price is the luckiest man in the world, being able to replay his favorite memories with you for all eternity. He could never tire of you, would never dream of such a terror.

So when the bell attached to the shop door rings with the entrance of another customer, it quickly turns to music to his ears when he sees you. Afternoon sunlight illuminates the world behind you, blinding him with the beauty you carry across universes and worlds. Your familiar eyes scan the area briefly, hardly paying him any mind before you approach the counter with a grace and poise that has his heart thudding in his throat. He can never get used to the first time. The first time his eyes land on you, he hears your voice, or skin touches yours; it’s the only thing that can tear him apart as well as you do.

He tries not to stare at your ass when you order your drink. It’s always been his favorite physical feature of yours. There’s something different about this version of you, yet still familiar. Nothing is ever entirely unknown to him, not when it concerns you, but you’re glowing more than usual. It’s captivating in a way that makes him feel like a dog, looking at a woman in such a perverse way, but he knows you like it when he stares. You always have in every other life.

When the barista hands you a to-go cup, John knows he doesn’t have long before you slip away. Such a sharp girl, quick on her feet. Always buzzing around, never staying in one place for too long, as if the imprint of your soul enjoyed the chase of him following after you. It’s a game he enjoys very much; one he doesn’t mind entertaining at all.

John rises from his seat, cup still half full, where he slips to the door just as you turn around to leave. His pace is leisurely, certainly in no rush as his hands reach out for the exit, only for him to pause. How silly of him to have left his drink behind, the only reason he even came to that shop in the first place. When he turns around, it’s quick and violent, and catches you so off guard you run right into him.

Piping hot tea splashes around in your to-go cup, and if it wasn’t for John’s quick reflexes and a firm grip on your wrist, you would’ve gotten yourself hurt. Your gasp is sweet and melodic on his ears, and he nearly melts under your gaze as your wide eyes stare at him. Your surprise is cute. As if you couldn’t remember meeting him in countless different universes like this.

“Terribly sorry, darling,” he says as if surprised. His grip loosens on your wrist just as his other hand comes up to rest on your waist. It’s quick, he knows; but in some way, you’re already used to it. “You alright?”

It takes you a moment to catch your breath, and once you do, John feels you slip out of his grasp as you take a step back. Both of your hands come up to hold the cup, afraid of dropping it, and you give him a polite smile and nod.

“Yes, thank you, I… good save,” is all you can manage as you chuckle and gesture to your drink.

John’s hands mourn the absence of your warmth, yet he allows them to politely fall back against his side. His lips yearn to be on yours. For him, this isn’t a first time greeting, but a long awaited reunion. Still, he calms his nerves and hardens them to steel as he chuckles with you.

“Would’ve hated for you to have gotten hurt,” he comments as his eyes glance down at your legs. The brief thought of that searing hot liquid broiling the supple skin of your thighs invades his mind before he can push it away. “You’re sure you’re alright?”

Whatever your response is, he can’t hear it. The dazzling bling of your betrayal drowns out the sound of your voice and everything around him. It’s beautiful; your ring. Its gemstone glints in the sunlight streaming through the windows as if attempting to blind him. No, not blind him. Something worse. It screams at him the very thing he had feared for the last few years; he was too late. Bound to another man in matrimony, a silly mistake you had made before ever seeing the light.

The aftertaste of tea suddenly tastes putrid on his tongue. His sweet mate, too impatient to wait for him in that lifetime. You’d fucked other men in other lives, and though it had always made his stomach turn, John could understand. But marriage?

His teeth threaten to shatter under the pressure of his clenching jaw.

When the sound comes back to him, his eyes comprehend the expression on your face. Discomfort — near disdain. In this universe, John Price is not your lover. He is a man, and only that. One who just so happens to be barring you from the exit.

He remembers himself, and smiles at you kindly as he quickly steps to the side, muttering an apology with a jaw that’s much too stiff. And still, he reaches behind him to hold the door open for you, and despite your apprehension you thank him quietly and say goodbye before you vanish into the streets. Your smell lingers in the air next to him for only a moment before it dissipates and drowns in the aroma of herbs and teas. His face goes cold as he glares at the corner where his now cold tea sits.

This was the first life he ever lived where you married a man that wasn’t him. Something broke. Shattered in his chest where the shards cut him apart from the inside out. When he breathes in, he can smell the blood pooling inside of him and it wakes him up to the terrible realization that — for once in his many, many lifetimes — he’s late. He’s late, and he doesn’t know what to do.

As the sweet smell of tea fades and is replaced by the putrid aroma of London, John tells himself to let it go. So what he wasted thirty plus years just for your heart to already be stolen away from him? There’s a millennia behind him, and a millennia ahead of him. When one life doesn’t go right for him, there’s always the next. Yet as pavement turns to brick and The Thames sprawls out in front of him beyond metal bars, he finds himself hesitating. The idea of letting go can’t quite sink its tendrils into his mind, and his knuckles grow white as he grips the barrier in front of him.

Bitter wind bites at his face as he looks at the water below him. Hesitation. He doesn’t know why it paralyzes him. There’s never been any need or use for second guesses, because he’s always known what’s waiting for him on the other side. All he needs to do is lift his leg, hoist himself up, and then let gravity do the rest. He’s done it before, in some other life. He’s felt his body hit the frigid water with needle-like pain blossoming across his skin just before it swallows him whole. It’s not an easy way to die, but it’s the only thing violent enough that has the capability of smothering the bitterness growing in his heart.

The answer to his confusion comes as a whisper on the back of his neck, where it tingles until it reaches the base of his spine and flutters throughout every cell of his body. Principle. It’s the principle of it all. In every single life, you’ve been his lover, his wife, the mother of his children, and if you are not, then you are dead. Rotten. Decaying in some grave by the time he finally finds you. You’re not just his desire, the love of his life, his reason for being; you are his right.

How long can someone love a soul before it becomes theirs? Before it’s ripped out of their lover and tucked safely away into a cage?

John chuckles as his hand slips from the railing, and he slides them into his pockets as if he had been enjoying the view of grey water and even more grey skies this entire time. Kill himself? No; you’ve been his this entire time. You just don’t know it yet.

He’s only ever done this a few times before; kidnap someone. In a few of his past lives, he’s been a soldier. A stone-hardened man who’s stolen families as bartering tools to make terrorists talk when their mouths were otherwise sealed shut. Killing is a good way for him to let out the anger that builds in a man’s soul after so long, and though he prefers to keep it to people who deserve it, his fingers can’t help but twitch as he watches your husband drop you off at the yoga studio.

Doesn’t he — your husband — deserve it? Death? Shouldn’t he pay the ultimate price for stealing you away from your true lover? The man who’s looked after you for eons? John wants to do it. Kill him. Smell the sanguine aroma that mixes with the harsh gunpowder that expels after a bullet is shot. He wants to, and he could do it, but murder muddles things up more than he would like, and though he’s good at covering his trail, he’d rather steal you away without incident. He’s been carefully plotting this ever since he saw you in that tea shop all those days ago; he can’t ruin it.

A smile pulls at his lips as he thinks about the look on your husband's face, when his pretty little pretend wife doesn’t return home. When he realizes how he’s failed you.

John’s hands tap at the steering wheel as he waits, patient as ever, for your session to end. Silly of you to go to a night class, really. Even sillier of your husband to allow such a terrible thing. If anything, it's greater proof that this new man in this new life isn’t good for you. It could have been anyone sitting in that car park, waiting for you to leave. Waiting to take you home.

Good thing it’s only him.

John exits the car just before eight. Cool air does its best to calm the electricity sizzling in his veins, but ultimately it’s his own mind that stills his nerves. Everything is planned out in his mind with moves expertly rehearsed in a past now forgotten, yet still ingrained in his memory; he knows he’ll get exactly what he wants. You. It’s all he craves. All he ever does.

You exit the studio with a laugh and a wave goodbye to the other women in your yoga class. That pathetic husband of yours is late, which only proves to be good fortune for John as he slips by your side. His feet are dangerously silent on the pavement and his arm is just as warm as ever as he wraps it around your waist, blade in hand. Even through the fabric of your shirt its point is noticeably sharp, and your feet stumble as he presses it against you in warning.

“Not a word, darling,” he whispers, too saccharine to be a stranger.

You listen, just like he knew you would, and he steers you away from the pavement and into the car park. It’s difficult for him not to chuckle as he recalls you in another life. How you once batted your pretty lashes at him, all but begging him to use a knife in bed with you. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to feel the cold sting of it against your skin. He wonders if some part of you feels that way in this life.

Once you reach the car, he slips the zip ties over your wrists in a single fluid motion before opening the door for you. Any onlookers would just think he’s being a gentleman helping you into the car like that, but there’s a method to his madness. As soon as you’re seated into the passengers side, your eyes meet his and they widen with terrified recognition. Not quite the look he hoped for from you, but your expression quickly melts away the moment a needle pierces through your pants and into your thigh. All that’s left to do is buckle you in and drive off.

He likes to pretend he’s carrying you to your honeymoon room as he curls you up into his arms. A sweet bride, passed out against his chest as he carries you to bed, safe in the confines of the cage he’s spent that entire lifetime preparing for you. You don’t stir when he places you in bed, but he lays down next to you as if both of you are resting. He lays in front of you so he can see your face while it’s peaceful; not while it’s twisted with confusion and disgust like it was in the tea shop a few days ago. No, he likes you much better like this. Quiet and pliant.

The tips of his fingers trace the features of your face, and it’s a dance he’s grown to have well memorized. They brush your lips and the tip of your nose before dipping underneath your jaw where they continue to wander. It doesn’t feel wrong, even though he knows you’d beg to differ. He’s done this before, in a life you don’t remember. Touch you like this. Feeling the dip between your breasts and the skin of your stomach. He pats your hands, still bound together with a zip tie — he tells himself he’ll remove them once you start behaving — before caressing your thighs. He wants to slip upwards, to brush his thumb against your clit just like how he knows you like it, but he refrains. He’ll wait until you wake up to do that. Your gasps are always sweeter when you’re aware.

The sweet bliss of numb eternity melts away as the drugs begin to wear off, and when your eyes flutter open you’re met with the face of a stranger. Truly, he’s not a stranger at all. Or, at least that’s what John would have you believe with the knowing smile he gives you. Your bound hands move up and press against his chest, desperately attempting to earn some space between the two of you. This only makes him laugh, and his hand rests on top of yours.

“Easy, darling,” he soothes.

An incoherent response stumbles out from your lips just as fearful tears swell in your eyes. His hand pants yours against his chest before he frowns. The gemstone on your wedding ring stands out like a sore thumb against his palm, and it serves as a stark reminder as to why he had to do all this in the first place. You don’t — or can’t — fight against him as he slips the ring off your finger and places it on the nightstand next to him. He’ll dispose of it properly another time, but for now he just can’t stand to see that proof of ownership on you.

“Please.” It’s the first word you’re able to slur out, and John hangs onto the syllable like it’s dessert. “W-Whatever you want… please… my husband, h-he’ll give it to you just… let me go, please.”

Husband. He hates that word on your lips when it’s not in reference to him.

“I’ve already gotten what I want, love,” he whispers.

Your eyes wrench shut and tears fall free at the realization that there’s nothing you can do to get away from this crazed man. He shushes you as he holds your face in his hands and presses his lips against your forehead. It’s not enjoyable, the way you recoil from him, but giving you the same love he’s given you in every other life feels right. It feels more wrong to withhold it from you.

Because this is his right, isn’t it? Of course it is, and in some sort of way, you seem to know this too. Your hands no longer press against his chest in disdain, and it’s all too easy to prop himself up on his elbow and press his lips against yours. The pressure is firm, as if he’s holding himself back from taking more from you. He groans at the taste of salt on your lips, and nearly chuckles at the way you tremble. It’s a one-sided embrace that you refuse to return, but he tells himself you’ll learn otherwise soon enough.

When John pulls away, your eyes refuse to focus on him as the shame eats you from the inside out. Your entire body is limp, bound hands resting against your stomach as he sits up. Deciding you’ve been behaving well enough, he reaches for the knife on the nightstand and he turns back to you, ready to cut the ties from your wrists.

The very moment the glint of the knife catches your eye is the moment you begin to squirm. Legs thrash and mess up the sheets as you scramble away from him until your head and back is pressed against the headboard. Your chest heaves violently as your terror overtakes you, and John pauses as you retreat. He’s never seen you look at him like that; not in any life he’s ever lived.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he promises.

“Please don’t,” you beg, his assurance falling on deaf ears. Your pleas turn into mindless stuttering for a moment before something visibly breaks in you, forcing you to share a secret that feels like sealing your death: “Please, you can’t just- I- I’m pregnant! Please!”

Everything stops. The world. His heart. It all falls quiet except for the sound of your hyperventilating which is almost as deafening as the ringing in his ears. Pregnant. Anything kind in John’s eyes dies quietly as he clenches the knife in his hand.

Pregnant. Not with his child. It must be a lie — it has to be a lie. You don’t look pregnant. There is no swelling of your stomach. Yet your hands lie on your lower abdomen as if you’re cradling something. Cradling someone. You have never been good at lying in any of your lives, and the candor sheen in your eyes tells him you’re not good at lying in this one, either.

John tells himself he only wants to embrace you. To mourn the life the two of you could have had if you only behaved. He doesn’t register why you’re screaming until the blood covers his hands, and then you fall quiet. His knife sinks into your stomach like it’s butter, and it pulls free from you even easier. You stare up at him, confused. As if you can’t comprehend why he would do this to you.

Ichor flows free from you like a river, and all you can do is gasp and paw at your wound. Your legs flail as John pulls you against his chest, chin resting on top of your head as if this is something he can soothe away with a hug. It’s not. He can’t soothe away your betrayal. Can’t come to terms with the fact you carry another man’s child when you should be carrying his.

“I know,” he shushes with a strained voice. “I know. It’ll be over soon.”

Your death is not kind, and he mourns every minute you bleed in his arms until you eventually still. It’s only when your blood goes cold that he allows himself to cry. Angry, hot tears that sear his skin as they soak into your hair. Damn this ruined life. Damn the years he wasted trying to find you only for you to be soiled by the time you were in his grasp. He hates the gore that stains your being, but he assures himself it was necessary.

In every life, you belong to him. In the lives that you don’t, you’re already dead.

John carefully places your body back on the mattress where he takes in the sight of you. There’s no more glow to your skin, not like there was while you were alive. But you’re dead, and he knows the life inside of you is dead, too. He tries to take comfort in that fact before angling the knife towards himself.

Killing himself is easier than killing you, as driving the knife into his throat is a well practiced motion. It’s something he’s done before, and he’s so used to it he doesn’t even groan at the sting as the blade slices his artery. Darkness is quick to cloud his vision as the blood loss overwhelms him, and he sputters and stares down at your cold body below. There is little comfort he feels when his blood meets yours on the stained sheets of the bed he wished to love you on. The mixing of blood is the only bond the two of you will ever have in that life.

He coughs as he falls forward. Soon, he has no use for any sort of comfort at all.

There is no blood in your next life. No iron taste in your mouth, or rotten flesh haunting your nose. No, there is only ink, paper, and well loved books.

You love your job. Books are your livelihood; the tool you use to escape reality on rainy days, so it only makes sense that in this life you work as a librarian. The building is dated with poorly insulated windows, and a bell that chimes as another patron enters, but that’s what makes it charming. Millions of words have been consumed in that library, and they linger in a way that never leaves you feeling alone.

Several books sit tucked safely in your arms as you wander aisles, on the hunt to return them home. Every shelf is well memorized. You could find any book in that building blind folded, and you hum to yourself as you go to return Walt Whitman’s Song of Myself to its rightful home on the top shelf of the WXYZ aisle.

Your feet are nimble as you climb the step stool to reach the shelf. It nearly reaches the ceiling, which is no small feat for a building of that size. Your arm stretches over your head and you breathe in the scent of stale paper and well loved books. Just as your fingers slide the item into place, the stool below you jerks, and your stomach drops as you fall to the side.

The books in your arms tumble onto the ground, but you’re saved from that same fate as a pair of arms swoop around you. You squeak as your hands grip the shirt of your savior, and you look up with wild eyes at the man. John Price is younger in this life when he finds you. In his twenties this go around. His face is clean shaven, but his eyes still hold the wisdom of forgotten ages and dead worlds.

“Terribly sorry, darling,” he apologizes. His grip on you loosens, but he doesn’t quite cut you free just yet. “You alright?”

“Yes, thank you, I… good save,” is all you can manage through a breathless chuckle.

There’s an innocence in your eyes that has John smiling at you. His hands are kinder in this life. The angry claws that ended your previous life don’t exist anymore. They do not wield a knife in anger; they only hold you with unbridled adoration. It’s the way things are supposed to be, with you in his arms and looking up at him with that innocent gaze, just the way he likes you. For a moment, John worries that you somehow recognize him when you tilt your head, yet as you bashfully return his smile, he takes comfort in knowing that you don’t remember anything.

You don’t remember anything at all.

#core writes #john price x reader #captain price x reader #price x reader #fucked up soulmate au #f!reader

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bnhaobservation · 2 months

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Did Enji atone to Touya (and his family) and stepped up on his role as a father?

Boku no Hero Academia has a grave 'flaw'. The fact that's strongly tied to Japanese culture and Buddhism makes it a very interesting work but also makes it a hardly international work because way too many cultural things are left unexplained because they're assumed to be a given. Only they're not when the work is read by foreign readers. And this lead to confusion.

The Todoroki plotline is an example of this.

In the west many feel Enji did nothing for Touya or did too little because the little he did is a given in the west. The point is... it's not a given in Japan. In Japan is a BIG DEAL. So let's go though it.

First, the fact that he doesn't want to kill Touya even though he's a criminal

Todoroki Enji ‘Ore wa ikinobite mo... ENDEAVOR wa shinda. Tairyō satsujinsha (read: musuko) to tatakaenai.’ 轟炎司「俺は生き延びても...エンデヴァーは死んだ。大量殺人者（むすこ）と戦えない。」 Todoroki Enji “Even if I survived... Endeavor is dead. I can't fight against a mass murderer (read: my son).”

Let's compare it to these two scenes of "Death Note" and see how Yagami Soichiro, a policeman, is taking the idea his son might be a killer and how, although Misa protests, the story doesn't present it as him being crazy but as it being his duty.

That's why Hawks doesn't want to send Enji, who's on an atonement path, to face Dabi, because Enji might end up in a situation in which he would have to kill his son and he would refuse... which is more or less what happens.

Second, Enji acknowledges that what Touya said is true, Touya is his son and Enji did what he did. In such a situation many would lie. Dabi's video proves nothing. He is a Villain, they had a doctor in the team who could create Nomu, the paternity test could be fake, even if Dabi were to provide a sample of his blood or skin they could insist that's fake.

Society didn't want the truth, they don't want Enji to confess, they wanted him to reassure them, they even commented he should have lied because yes, that's what's done often.

Basically he put his honor on the chopping block. A public apology like this one is a BIG DEAL in Japan. It's much more serious than in western countries and he does it when he could have spared himself and say Dabi lied but that would have meant to deny his son.

Third, it connects to the first in a way. While Enji is unwilling to kill Touya, he's willing to die with him. It's ‘shinjū’ (心中 Lit. “Mind/heart center/inside” but more likely means “oneness of hearts”, probably reflecting a psychological link between the participants) and it’s a word used in common parlance to refer to any group suicide of two or more individuals bound by love, typically lovers, parents and children, and even whole families. People who commit shinjū believe that they would be united again in heaven, a view supported by feudal teaching in Edo period Japan, which taught that the bond between loved ones would continue into the next world, and by the teaching of Pure Land Buddhism wherein it is believed that through shinjū, one can approach rebirth in the Pure Land. By volunteering to die with him, Enji is basically agreeing to remain with him in their next reincarnation.

For us it's crazy, it's Enji giving up on saving him. In Japan it sounds like 'I love you and I want to be with you'.

Forth, he'll apologize to Touya. As said before it's a BIG DEAL, especially since Enji is the family head and, although for us most of what he did is wrong, in Japan most of what he did is well within what he can do. Marrying a woman you don't love in a combined marriage to expect the child who'll be born from it will fulfill your ambitions and not really bothering to raise it because that's a mother job, well, things are changing in Japan but none of the above is a crime. In a not so distant past it was actually the norm. Yet Enji apologizes even though normally a family head wouldn't.

Fifth it's a bit in the first point and in the second but it'll drag on through all the story, Enji won't reject Touya. He's the only one (except Fuyumi who however doesn't get to say much) who never calls him Dabi after the reveal, and he won't strike him out of the family register but will keep on considering him his son.

Look at the Tobitas instead and at how they kick their son out.

Don't think Hawks is cutting strings with his parents solely because they were abusive, the Tobitas show us how you should just cut strings with a criminal. Same as the Togas.

Have "Theseus no fune" in which a man accused to be a murderer, send a birthday gift to his son and watch the reaction of his wife.

They don't want to keep contact with a criminal. It's scary because they'll be mistreated if they are discovered to be related to him.

And, in this vein, the fact he wants to go see him, that he'll keep on seeing him till the end instead than turning his back on him, is seen as important. It's seen as him being his father.

To many of us it seems as if he's forcing his presence upon Touya. Actually, from a Japanese perspective he's instead not abandoning him like many others would.

And since Touya is dying, very likely the talking will be the talking that's done in a Buddhist culture when someone is dying. Death should occur in a calm and peaceful environment, with close friends and family in attendance. Together they should reflect on the good deeds the dying person has done throughout their life, in the hopes it will help them in their next reincarnation. Additionally, family and friends can perform good deeds on behalf of them, which they believe will be of merit to the deceased.

So, since Touya is dying he won't get a scolding like Chisaki, they'll all only tell him nice and soothing things so he'll die peacefully.

Now... in the west all this is absolutely way too little, and in some points even feels wrong. Dying together instead than insisting in trying to save him? Deciding unilaterally to show up every day? Not our thing...

We can totally say 'thanks, I hate it' because we grew up with Darth Vader who instead gave his life to SAVE his son. All this accepting that Touya instead is going to die so Enji can at best die with him or keep him company until he does... well, it's mostly not our cup of cultural tea.

In in Japan though, all Enji does is important. Enji is doing something for Touya as a father, something important many fathers wouln't do for their sons.

Does it would satisfy a Japanese audience? They'll get the message better than us... but things are changing and anyway it can still feel too little. "Death Note" is dated 2005/2006 and back in it Misa was already questioning the idea of a father killing his son and then killing himself. BNHA is more innovative as Enji doesn't think to kill Touya but he still goes for the 'let's die together' route... and Horikoshi subtly criticizes it by having the rest of the family decising they'll try to stop the fire before just giving up. They're willing to die, but not before trying.

Enji represents plenty of old theories after all, which Horikoshi acknowledges were moved out of wrong beliefs, not moved by mean intents... which, is possible, would still not be enough for Japanese readers either because among teenagers, the target audience, there's an increasing number of teen who, in Japan, are forced to leave home (the Toyoko Kids) and often ends up committing crimes to survive and the league seems to be based on all the kind of homeless people Japan has.

While for a kid at home with a loving family being told that your father will die with him if he messes up instead than just dumping him might be comforting... for a kid that was abused and forced to leave home this might feel not enough.

People want to be saved, being told it's too late to save them, might be a lesson for those who hadn't done anything wrong yet so that they won't do it, but it's surely not a hopeful message for who instead got himself into troubles.

But well, that's something for the Japanese audience to ponder.

There's also to point out that, even though the message is not hopeful, Horikoshi is seeing the homeless people and acknowledging they should be helped.

Japan in regard to the Toyoko kids is mostly like the old woman who pretended not to see Tenko but that, in the end, helps that new boy.

I think Horikoshi's message desperately wants to be hopeful even for them, that he wants BNHA be like Midoriya's final stand, something that will push people to acknowledge they exist and reach out to help them.

It just that... it gets lost in what I'll call the 'litteral translation'.

No one explains us how we should jusge the scenes and, since we lack the cultural background, to us they are perceived differently because to us things work differently.

And, personally, even when I think I figured out the author's intent and can see the positivity of it, the cultural filter is still too tick and the picture gets blurried.

It's like being beginner at speaking a foreign language and having to constantly translate it in your head. The message loses its natural beauty, get simplified and not fully grasped.

I think I understand how Enji's atonement work in regard to Touya... it still doesn't feel fulfilling to me. But enough about Touya.

'Now,' you might rightfully say, 'fine, I'll bite, let's assume what Enji has is an atonement arc for Touya. It doesn't work at all in the west but let's give it a pass. What about his other kids?'

Natsuo and Fuyumi's wishes are in conflict.

Fuyumi wants the five of them to be a family (at the time she doesn't know Touya is alive), Natsuo doesn't want to be part of a family with Enji.

Enji's solution is giving Fuyumi a house in which she can welcome her mother and live with Natsuo (and Shouto when he comes home), while he removes himself from the equation. The solution fulfills Natsuo's wish of not seeing Enji because it makes him feel bad. It only partly fulfil Fuyumi's wish because it'll allow her to have her mother back (Rei couldn't bear meeting Enji either) and to stay with her siblings... but Enji takes responsibility for it, he doesn't tell her it's due to Natsuo that he can't live with them, so, in theory, it won't be Natsuo the one who's stressed to be at home when Enji is there and the one who has to leave home because he can't stand the sight of Enji.

There are many things I can say on how this is not a good solution (it doesn't make Natsuo feel better, it just stops him from feeling worse), but there are two points to consider. The first is that Enji is getting old and it would be his children's duty, due to filial pity, to take care of him, instead he's basically giving them the means to leave and take his wife with them.

Actually, since Natsuo is now the oldest MALE, it should fall on him specifically. Yes, Enji always intended to have Shouto inherit his mantle but this doesn't free Natsuo from his duties. Instead Enji is letting all his children free.

Even with Shouto, he doesn't insist anymore for Shouto to learn Flashfire Fist as his heir but just as an intern.

I take this is big in Japan.

Here again, not so much, especially in the countries in the west that think kids should leave their parents' home as soon as possible and we don't think our children are obliged to inherit our mantles.

Note how the story implies that this was meant to be the end for the Natsuo/Enji arc.

Natsuo made clear he didn't want to meet Enji again, he does it solely because they've to stop Touya and, once they've stopped Touya, he makes clear he doesn't want to see him again.

If we want though, the fact he's leaving the family can be seen as a concession in a way.

Since apparently Rei wants to stay with Enji (and likely their old house was devasted because that's what happens to relative of criminals) Enji can now move with Fuyumi and Rei and Natsuo won't have to see him because he'll leave home... to make his own home.

As for Shouto... Horikoshi answered his request by basically showing him Enji being a father for Touya and then promising he would protect them from the fiery fallout, which Horikoshi doesn't show at all because it's another thing that's a given in Japanese culture, it'll be hell for Enji to protect them, but not for us.

Just to get an idea of the fiery fallout here are some images from "Theseus no fune" again showing you how bad is this sort of thing.

Back to Enji, Horikoshi gives us verbal confirmation that Enji is now being a father by being willing to do this, by having Natsuo, who never called him as such, calling him father for the first time.

For Horikoshi that's Enji being a father.

Again, we've no idea of which hell Enji will suffer because that's not part of our culture. I've posted above screencaps of "Theseus no fune", that's how the fallout should be so not pretty at all.

So the fact that Enji will try to protect them from it is, again, BIG.

So yeah, Enji did do BIG things to atone and keeps on doing them and if he'll ultimately get forgiven by Natsuo (the rest of his family wanted to forgive him way before he were to do something), that's up to Natsuo... Horikoshi likely left this as open ending because he wanted to let it up to readers so as not to make them feel they were forced to forgive Enji.

In the general hopeful theme of the manga and with Natsuo acknowledging him as a cool father I guess his idea is that Natsuo too will eventually forgive him because he's kind.

I don't want to say that Natsuo forgiving Enji would be a culture clash because there's people even here that forgive their horrible parents and that's valid. Forgiving is a personal choice and one has the right to make it even if said horrible parent did nothing to deserve it.

It's up to you.

But sure is, if again we take the story at face value and not in its cultural contest, we can't see what Enji does to atone, because for us is nothing big.

It's even made worse by how Horikoshi doesn't show at all the hell Enji will go through (as for him is a given) so for us IT DOESN'T EXIST. We see Enji as having it easy, talking big but not having to face anything at all.

Honestly though... I think this is a bit of a flaw of the manga as a whole.

Way too often it prefers to focus on the good than on the bad so that the bad gets sidelined to much to the point people forget it.

There were horrible Heroes who committed crimes and had no intention to repent or stop... and we never met them. Nagant killed them off but we never met them.

Mountain Lady, who became a Hero for money and fame, then sticks to the job even when it's bad. Desugoro, who left the job when it turned bad, then came back to help. Enji is on an atonement path and, anyway, on work he was always a good Hero.

In the same way Horikoshi prefers not to show Enji's hardship but focus on how he'll have the support of his sidekicks, driver and Hawks... partly also because it ties in so well with the general message of everyone reaching out.

The result is that the Midoriya plotline of everyone reaching out becomes more important of the Enji atonement arc and overshadows it.

Enji's atonement arc ends in 426, chap 430 doesn't feel the need to tell us if Enji is keeping up with it despite the hardship, nor how his family is doing. It feels the need to reassure us that people will reach out for him even if he's in hell, that even if he had to give up on his family, he now as a new found family.

It's thematically consistent with the theme of reaching out but... the fact it overwrites the atonement arc honestly FOR ME doesn't work so great.

I think it's an overall problem of the 'reaching out message'.

While in itself is beautiful... it saves nothing I was lead to care about.

In Enji's case I was interested in his atonement arc, in how he could help his kids. I wanted more of that, partly because his atonement arc is so far from my culture, partly because it touched characters I cared about, I wanted to be reassured he would keep on working on it and that his family would be well.

Yes, he should be in hell, but the story didn't really work hard on trying to make me worry for him as it established already a support network for him. The story made me worry for the kids, for Touya, who was dying, for Fuyumi, who wanted back her family and won't have it, for Natsuo, who's marrying an unknown character so young, for Shouto, who has to cope with the loss of the brother with whom he wanted to connect.

I don't really care Burnin, Onima, Kido and Hawks are willing to continue to protect Enji, to reach out to help him, I knew they would, I wanted to be reassured Enji's kids are safe, well and protected. I wanted to see ENJI reach out and help them.

In this vein I don't really care the old grandmother saved a nameless abused kid, or, at least, not as much as I cared for Tomura to be saved. It's nice she saved him, it's nice he gets to live the life Tomura was denied but honestly, he's a mob character with a super tragic backstory created deliberately to force us to emotionally connect to him.

The message he now will be saved is good, but my emotional investment to him is too little.

The same applies to Uraraka's Quirk counsueling program, we knew next to nothing about the Quirk consueling previous program beyond that it didn't work (a real problem in Japan as they have a school consueling program that didn't work... and changes are in progress) and that now it supposedly does.

To how Shouji now solves peacefully plenty of conflicts caused by Heteromorph discrimination, which Horikoshi tossed in later and never really showed how to solve (and, don't take me wrong, it's not solved even by Shouji, he just solves peacefully the conflicts, how is up to everyone's speculation).

Long story short, I think Horikoshi worked really hard for BNHA to have an optimist, hopeful message... but part of it goes lost in cultural differences and part of it goes lost in how the story didn't try to get me invested in the things it's now saving.

So yeah, I'm still sad for this little panel in chap 430

I guess I'll eventually get over it. Today though, it's not that day.

On a positive note... if we count the pages of all the chapters that should go in vol 42 they're only 132. The chapters that were meant to go into Vol 39 had 165 (which yes, Horikoshi further expanded once the volume was released).

So yeah, unless Vol 42 will be slimmer than usual or that he'll add to it some sidestory or extra story, it's possible we'll get more plot in terms of epilogue. We'll see.

(also yes, I'm not touching Rei in this post. Rei is another can of worm entirely and one, I fear, Horikoshi doesn't care about. The poor woman doesn't even get a profile while Ikoma Komari does. And really, I do think Rei is much more important than Ikoma Komari)

Last, but not least, since someone seems to get the wrong idea, in case it wasn't clear enough, I'm not Japanese. I research on this. Through books, through the net and yeah, since I like to read manga and anime also through them which I often use as a source of comparison because they're easy, accessible to many and represent the same kind of media BNHA is so they more or less move according to the same or similar rules. I might have messed up somewhere. I encourage you to also research on the topic and take everything with a grain or two of salt.

#boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #Todoroki Enji #Todoroki Rei #Todoroki Touya #Todoroki Fuyumi #Todoroki Natsuo #Todoroki Shouto.#bnha ramblings

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bet-on-me-13 · 8 months

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Reincarnation AU but it's not Danny

So! In basically every single Reincarnation AU I've seen, it's always Danny who gets reincarnated as a DC character. Sometimes it's Jazz, other times it's his Friends, but it never really strays from them. And I think we've been ignoring some people...

The Ancients! Danny is always reincarnated as a "Vacation" from his Ghost King Duties, so why not give the same courtesy to the other Ancients?

Specifically, Fright Knight.

Fright Knight has been a loyal servant and Knight of his Master for Millenia. Ever since he first formed as the Autumn Spirit, the Embodiment of Fear, the Fright Knight, he had declared his Servitude to the Ghost King, whomever it may be at the time. And he stayed in that position, through the passing of the Crown, through the Violent Coups, through every single Ghost King who had taken to the mantle. He was their Loyal Knight. Never Wavering. Never leaving their side.

Until Pariah Dark, but that situation was different. No previous King had even tried to take the human world before.

Thankfully, Pariah had only taken the Throne for a mere 5000 years, so he had not had to put up with him for long, and much of that time was with him stuck in his Coffin. That was the first time Fright Knight had ever left his Masters Side.

Then, that insolent Halfa he had met before came into the picture and Fright Knight had a new master.

King Phantom was...different.

Perhaps it was his remaining Humanity poking through? Or was it was the influence of the Human Realm that he still regularly visited? Or maybe he was simply just a Good Person, and there was no deeper meaning behind it?

Either way, Fright Knight noticed that he cared for his subjects in a far deeper manner than any previous king had. He had personal connections with as many Ghosts as he could, and often called the Ghosts he ruled his, Friends. It warmed his Long Frozen Core to see a King valuing his Subjects as much as he did.

He did not realize that the kindness Phantom extended to his people, also extended to himself.

One day, Phantom had been discussing his Human Life with some of his friends. Not his First Life, but his most recent Vacation. Over the Eons since he had taken the Throne, Phantom had been encouraged to take a Vacation every once in a while. It was not healthy for a Ghost to work non-stop like he did, especially for a Halfa.

It was not an uncommon practice in the Realms, many would take a break from the Endlessness of Death to embrace Life once more through Reincarnation. Although, many were too weak to retain their memories upon their second Forming. Mostly, it was Ancients or Kings who would use this as a Vacation, rather than a New Beginning.

There came a break in the conversation, and King Phantom turned his attention to his Knight. "Frighty, when was the last time you Reincarnated? Pandora did so recently, and it got me thinking."

"I have not taken leave of my post for thr Eons since my Forming, My Lord" Replied the Knight with Pride.

"What? You haven't taken a Break since you formed!? Frighty! That's not Healthy!" Exclaimed his King.

This lead to a whole conversation about how unhealthy his lifestyle was, which was another quirk of his Master. He cared for his Sunjects beyond their happiness.

"Fright Knight, as your King and as your Friend, I implore you to take a Vacation. It doesn't have to be forever, just a simple Human Lifespan, but please take a break, for your own Good."

And how could he refuse a request like that? One based in the kindness that his Majesty always showed his Subjects.

It took a few more years to finally iron out the plan for his Vacation, but what are a few years in the face of Eternity?

Finally, it came time to take his leave to the Mortal Realm, and to Life itself.

"Farewell, my Leige." Bowed Fright Knight, "I thank you for this opportunity."

"There's no need to thank me. Now go, and have fun, My Dark Knight."

...

That day, in Gotham General Hospital, a baby was born.

"What will you name him?" Asked the Doctor.

"I think I'll call him..." Began the need Mother, "...Bruce. Bruce Wayne."

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throwaway-yandere · 2 years

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I Got Reincarnated As A Server NPC In An Otome Game But A Capture Target Won’t Leave Me Alone (Yandere!Diluc Ragnvindr/Reader)

a/n: fasghadsa this is my thank-you fic for @poptartsthings for supporting my fics for the past year!!! thank you for the tips huhuhuhu ;;;—;;; hence, I wrote this diluc fic for *clears throat* "mommy milkers". Enjoy this self-aware yandere otome game!duke diluc ragnvindr!!!

unreliable synopsis: what if you got isekai-d in your favorite otome game and one of the Love Interests found out they aren’t a real person? (or, ya know, whatever the title said lmao)

"Bottoms up, Duke Ragnvindr!"

"No matter how enthusiastic you are, I remain inclined to think that this is a horrible idea, (Y/n)..."

Reluctantly swirling a small amount of fire-water while wearing gloves, the duke saw how the alcohol hardly made a wave. Unsatisfied, he diverted his attention and observed the NPC pour their drink.

"In all honesty, your grape juice is worth more than this, (Y/n)–"

"Shush!" With a flamboyant and dismissive wave, the generic common mob silenced one of the Main Characters. "Don't ruin the mood, now. I had to pull a few strings to get this bad boy right here. It’s such a shame that Mister “Best Boy” Albedo can't come, so we have to make sure I get my money’s worth off of these bottles. It’d be such a waste of francs."

"Wasted like the thousand francs wine you clumsily spilled last year?"

"Don't bring that up again, please."

"Why not?" He chuckled. "If you hadn't, I wouldn't have met you."

"If I hadn't, I would've been drinking with Villager B..." They muttered as they grabbed another glass from the cupboard.

He pretended not to have heard it.

They are both aware that their destinies follow different paths. No matter how hard one of them tries to walk next to the other, this cruel fate will separate them with a penalty that is even more agonizing than the last. All because (Y/n) was a real person, and Diluc was not.

Duke Diluc Ragnvindr is this game’s easiest route: the typical childhood friend who falls for the heroine– Princess Lumine– first. In this genre, he falls into the category of those love interests who are incredibly austere with themselves that they were unable to enjoy the small things in life outside work. Ultimately, he follows the cliche of protecting the heroine from harm until she remembers that they used to play together as children in the palace gardens. Which, in itself, is quite a feat since the duke was not a man many could befriend. Unless you count Chief Justice Ajax as his greatest comrade, then perhaps he could finally add item number 11 to his list of trusted people.

The “Duke of the South” only favored audiences for those he was willing to invest in— after all, he’s famously known for having a “good signature.” It may seem like a compliment for uneducated nouveau rich men, but those with an eye for Gaciean politics knew how much power he has as the head of the Department of Military Affairs. Tales about his on-and-off disputes with the Chief Ajax circled as frequently as Teyvat Time’s popular Paimon-The-Friendly-Fae’s comic strips. Some loved his obsession with national security whilst some were quick to call him a pampered weapon hoarder, but if there’s one thing everyone can agree it’s that they fear the southern duke.

Now, after introducing a political figure with crimson locks of hair and domineering combat prowess, it’s certainly a tough sell to introduce the last person left inside: (Y/n) (L/n).

Unremarkably, they’re merely an NPC from Xiangling’s Seaside Restaurant. They’ve “reincarnated” into this world fumbling about like a newborn until the chef offered a job. Fortunately, they were not completely helpless in the kitchen. They had shown off their managerial skills from their old job since day one. Since then, Xiangling had hoped to train them as the new manager, but (Y/n) preferred to take on some responsibilities gradually. After a few days had passed, they abruptly realized that they were "Server C," an NPC with only a character sprite and a scarcely distinguishable name. The red ribbon-theme outfit from their restaurant was the only thing that distinguished them from the other faceless workers. According to what they can recall, one of their tasks is to give the princess's order of candies while she flees from her overprotective retainer, Dainsleif. It was a tense moment in that common route since all three of the princess’ potential suitors were customers from different ends of the restaurant, which were Dainsleif, Kamisato Ayato, and, of course, Duke Ragnvindr.

… Unable to snap out of their initial shock after recognizing that this was one of the game’s CGs and seeing three attractive men inside the restaurant they work at, (Y/n) accidentally broke the script by spilling the wine on Duke Ragnvindr’s coat.

Since then, (Y/n) had trailed and followed the characters whenever they could for their amusement– often helping their favorite love interest, Albedo, set up the scene so they can view his "CGs" in real life. Due to their apparent lack of stalking skills, they had another off-script encounter with the duke whilst doing so. Instead of heading straight to North Gaciea as he had done in the game, he was delayed seven hours after he weeded (Y/n)’s hair out of the bushes they were hiding in. Their first meeting was horrid, and their second almost went in a similar direction. Almost.

Since (Y/n)’s lies were as visible as their head peeking out of their hiding spot, Diluc had them drink a truth potion to uncover why they were stalking the chief alchemist, however…

… Does the phrase “the truth is stranger than fiction” apply in this case when both the earth and the sky are nothing but lies?

Diluc put on a convincing poker face when they babbled about the game they live in, demonstrating both their objectives and, more critically, their in-game omniscience. Albedo is the only love interest who changes into a feral (and subjectively "hot") monster toward the end of the novel, thus (Y/n) was adamant that he be Princess Lumine's ultimate endgame—but going any further in their explanations would be deemed a "spoiler." Additionally, Albedo’s route could only be unlocked once you finished another character’s route first… and that character happened to be Diluc Ragnvindr himself.

———

“In layman’s terms… We are living in a complex romance novel-esque system, correct? And I am the ‘book’ people often recommend to start the series with first before moving on to the sequel?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“… and I am just a stepping stone for a happier ending? A pawn? A mere puppet for someone chasing a momentary cure for loneliness?”

“Well, it felt real to me when I played your route—”

“Perhaps, but feelings do not change what is real and what isn’t.” Diluc sighed, unsheathing his dagger to break off the ropes that held the server down.

(Y/n) traced their wrists, appreciating now how gentle he had been when he could’ve gone rougher.

“Diluc…”

He bit his lip. It pained him to hear the server call his name as if they knew him.

They spoke as if they were friends the whole time right after they just revealed that his life is a self-fulfilled prophecy of unrequited romance.

And it was insulting.

———

The two have come a long way since then. He lost his faux feelings for Lumine. After gaining self-awareness, Diluc had begun avoiding what occurs in the game’s plot under the NPC’s guidance. To improve Lumine's chances of acquiring Albedo's route, (Y/n) was more than happy to assist him, so they started exchanging chats that ranged from oblique threats to routine discussions only friends could have.

Even so, (Y/n)’s attempts were futile when Albedo revealed to both of them that he knew he’s also just a character since the day he was “created”, and that “I would greatly appreciate it if you stopped attempting to produce an inorganic chemistry between the protagonist and me.”

…The chief alchemist was a smart one for sure and his confrontation had sobered (Y/n) fully. Although Albedo will never be the princess’ endgame nor will he turn into an apocalyptic dragon, (Y/n) had earned his friendship and started treating the rest of the cast as people and not just characters.

Diluc gazed out the window.

It was late into the night and rain was falling. There was not a single domestic sound emanating from nearby homes, which was a wise choice since annoying harpies would have gathered at the sound of human noises. Birds accosted the drying trees and roofs as fog swept through the streets. With the exception of this seaside restaurant, most stores were noticeably closed. The downpour buried the sound of crashing waves just a few meters outside, so no one would have known that this was close to the beach.

"Huh," (Y/n) stared in the same direction. "Didn’t expect it to rain tonight. Guess you can't escape this cheap alcohol-tasting session, huh?"

In the course of his outdoor nightly training, the head of the Department of Military Affairs grew incredibly resilient against mere storms. "I don’t need an umbrella."

"Fair," they laughed, distinctly human compared to the usual polite chuckles he would hear from leeching nobles. "But oh, dear Duke, if you don't need an umbrella then why are you still here? Is it because you wanted to see me– w-wait hold on—I'm kidding— sit down!"

…

They reached for his arm, but try as they might—

their hand only passed through.

The two stiffened.

Diluc’s breath hitched.

That was proof.

Because of this scripted fate, a commoner like them can't even grasp his hand, let alone touch it. Not when the system outright denies the friendship they have.

An NPC like (Y/n) can’t remain friends with a main character like Diluc once they have fulfilled their role in their story.

Diluc was untouchable.

He closed his eyes. Just acknowledging this pains him.

They both sat back down.

Much like how Diluc had pretended not to hear their comment earlier, (Y/n) also pretended that nothing unreal occurred seconds ago.

"S... So, is there anything else you want with that?" They pointed at his glass. "We have a crap ton of limes and cranberry juice! Oh, but I'm not sure if it would taste that good if we mix it, haha."

He could practically hear them force that laughter right out of their throat. Diluc hurriedly swallowed the fire-water they offered him since neither could stand the awkward tension. Diluc cringed.

"Oh, sorry, was it too strong?" Many nobles who detained the duke with platitudes were met with sarcastic comments, but he never hated (Y/n)’s idea of small talk.

"It's fine." He spoke huskily.

"Does it need lime or any add ons–"

"It's fine."

"... Okay."

The silence was painfully awkward... Perhaps Diluc shouldn't have threatened Albedo to sit this one out. He wanted an opportunity to be alone with (Y/n), and this is far from what he had hoped would turn out. Diluc's forehead creased as he held back what could've been a long somber sigh.

"How's work?" He asked.

"Oh, it's been alright."

That doesn't sound promising. This was a trick up his sleeves to snap them back to a cheery mood. Usually, they’d start rambling about their regulars and watch how endearingly entertaining they are. There should’ve been a quip about Itto’s TCG losing streak or how Kunikuzushi and Kazuha were arguing again over where they should place their tent for their next travels. This time, (Y/n) barely uttered a phrase.

They continued, "I don't suppose I could ask you the same, given that most of your work is confidential–"

"The Holy Kingdom’s crown prince visited North Gaciea today."

"Oh?"

Finally, he could see them smile for just a bit. Of course, they’d be interested to hear about Zhongli since he was the poster boy for the game’s sequel. Fortunately for Diluc, (Y/n) never got to play the game.

"That's wonderful! I was waiting for an English Localization of the sequel for soooo long! Was he hot? I bet he’s gorgeous as fu–"

"No."

"No...?"

"I mean." Diluc cleared his throat. It's barely even a shot of fire-water and he's already getting impulsive. "I meant that I cannot discuss the matter further. I am not like Kaeya. This is confidential, like what you had said."

"Ah..." Their eyebrows furrowed "I see…"

Why did they sound so disappointed?

Is (Y/n)… bored of him?

Diluc digressed, "how's Dainsleif?"

"Dain?" Their nose scrunched. "I haven't seen that poor guy for weeks now. He’s probably escorting Princess Lumine to Justice Ajax’s territory like in the game. Why?"

"Kamisato Ayato?"

"Ah, he ordered a crate of Dango milk yesterday," they laughed softly. "I'm amazed at how that man is barely affected by the script. I mean, I guess that’s to be expected when your route can only be unlocked by choosing three unsuspecting dialogue options. I don't think he talked to the protagonist at all these past two years. You’d think Lumine would’ve raised her wits stat high enough to attract his attention, but alas, Lord Ayato’s still lounging around East Gaciea doing Venti-knows-what."

He wasn’t paying attention to their ramblings. All their names sound bitter in Diluc's mouth. Unlike Albedo and Diluc, the rest of the Love Interests are free to interact with them as an extra. Server C had also performed their last scripted interaction with them, hence, (Y/n) can never touch Albedo and Diluc again.

Retainer Dainsleif of the West, Lord Kamisato Ayato of the East, Chief Justice “Childe” Ajax of the North, Chief Alchemist Albedo of Who-Knows-Where, and Duke Diluc Ragnvindr of the South… Princess Lumine certainly had fine options.

The Duke just wished the otome game scriptwriters would’ve let him have his own choice in the matter as well.

(Y/n) rested their elbows down on the table as they gazed into Diluc's distant eyes.

"Why did you ask?"

Diluc frowned, He admits it— (Y/n)’s eyes are nothing to write home about. When compared to an ephemeral beauty like Princess Lumine, their ordinary (e/c) eyes and visage hardly qualify as "distinctive traits." Their vibrant red ribbon is the only thing separating them from the street's grey residents. Yet he can still tell it's them no matter how big the crowd is. No matter how much they look like an “NPC”, to him at least it was a face worth seeing. Even if they mesh into a blob of slime, he can sense their essence through and through.

Although he can now barely make out the features on their face, nothing on this false earth can convince him that he wasn’t talking to the love of his life.

"I..." Diluc loosened his collar, suddenly growing hot at the intensity of their stare. "I simply wished to learn how the two other Love Interests are doing. I’ve had a chat with Ajax, and he still acts like a quote-on-quote “yandere” as you had explained before."

“Is that all?”

Diluc nodded.

"Ah," They shrugged. "Got my hopes up there– I thought there are other “Wasureta: No More” CGs I haven't seen yet."

Diluc smiled and took a drink.

"Ahh..." He exhaled, his eyelids fluttering shut in the process.

"You okay there pal?" They asked. "I know I said we shouldn't let any of this go to waste but you know I can just store them back home right? Oh, you can have some too but I don't think you'd like so–"

"I'll take a bottle."

(Y/n)’s eyes widened.

"Y-You..." They stuttered, "You sure?"

"Yeah," Diluc mumbled, lying to himself. "It tastes okay."

They grinned. The sight makes his decision all the more worth it.

"Haha, great!" They fist-bumped the air "See? Told ya cheap fire-water tastes good!"

Don’t get him wrong, he's not taking one home because of its taste. He's taking one home because it might be the last memento he'll have of (Y/n).

"Hold on, let me get a ribbon." They opened their palms to stop him from leaving. "Can't give the great Duke of the South something that looks barely presentable now would I?"

They left him with a skip in their steps. Diluc smiled.

Now that he's left alone, he silently wondered:

Just how long can he last before he tells the NPC that he wants to ruin their friendship?

———

Along with the sounds of gutted flesh reverberating through the tunnel's dark passageways, a man's hysterical laughter echoed. It was mostly silence in the caves, and there is a strong sense of loneliness upon entering the vicinity. Humans and animals alike would feel as though there is no life inside those walls, but the joyous yet hollow laughter came from the end of the tunnel.

And on the other side, you'll find a red-haired man at his wit's end.

"Tell me..." His words dragged out in a low growl as he grabbed a fistful of the bloody and tattered blonde's greasy hair. The man whimpered from his touch. "Was it fun? Laughing at my misery this entire time? Were you laughing along with them? Lumine, Dainsleif, and all the rest?! Did I put up quite the show there?!"

Crown Prince Aether trembled.

Duke Ragnvindr had everything figured out.

———

“There’s one regret I have now that I’ve isekai-d in this game.”

“What was it?”

“It’s just that,” (Y/n) sighed. “I never really got this game to a 100% completion.”

Diluc raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by their obsession with Wasureta, “and why is that important?”

“Hey! It’s pretty damn important!” (Y/n) grumbled. "Tsk, if only I finished your bad endings… The guides say once you do that, you’ll be able to unlock a secret route.”

“A secret route?”

“Yeah,” they shrugged.

“I’ve read some spoilers from Otomekitten's blog and get this— the last route reveals where Lumine’s brother had been hiding all this time.”

———

The nerves on the back of Diluc's palms were more noticeable as he pulled the poor man closer. Simply put, their faces did not resemble what mankind should look like; rather, they were an animalistic representation of a predator and prey. Hitherto it had disturbed Prince Aether in his rests, but it was too late when he finally acknowledged that something unhinged lay dormant inside the duke.

"P-please..." He coughed. Blood started drooling down the edge of his lips. He assumes that a few of his teeth are likely knocked in, and he can feel his canines prodding inside his throat. "H-have merc–"

With alarming ease, Diluc threw him in the direction of the shelves. The blonde fell and gasped violently when the splintered wood struck his shoulder. The gaping wound on his hips gushed out once more, bleeding onto his carpet and scattered notes. The duke was a monster. He intentionally missed striking his vital organs to prolong his suffering. More blood gushed from his mouth and the prince noisily wheezed out wet coughs.

His Highness has (Y/n) to blame for the hints they gave the duke.

If they hadn't had that conversation, Diluc wouldn’t have figured out that Aether created this “game” world out of grief for his dead sister.

———

“I’ve been alive here for a year or so but I can’t get used to how the harpies in this world look so tame.”

“Hmm? What else were you expecting?”

“Nothing much, it’s just that they look so different in the game’s beta.”

They shrugged. “Fun fact: did you know that “Wasureta: No More” was a fantasy-horror game before the scriptwriters decided to rewrite everything?”

———

"Tsk." Diluc spat and wiped his mouth with his last dirty palm as if there was a major difference. Both are equally soiled with oil and Aether’s blood; it wouldn’t have mattered.

The duke snarled aloud into a burst of savage laughter, "what's wrong, My Creator? Can't even muster up the courage to face your retribution?"

"F-Friend..." Aether called out, hoping to garner sympathy for the Diluc who once looked after both him and his sister at the royal gardens. Hoping to remind him that he was placed number 1 on the list of people the head of Military Affairs had trusted.

"Don't call me that," Diluc's grip on his claymore grew tighter until his knuckles paled.

"Du-Duke..." The blonde looked up. "I can't just... Rewrite this story again..."

"You can," Diluc spoke in a somewhat broken voice. His sanity may be waning, but he cannot deny that Aether was included in the list of the people the duke trusted. "We’re just characters you’ve written. You've done that before. You've done that to Lumine."

"And I r-regretted it!" He sputtered out, accidentally stronger than intended. The blonde scurried to lean against the wall as he feared Diluc would attack him for his offensive tone. "I regretted it. I thought I could revive my sister... I thought that would bring Lumine back into this new world. I thought it would bring her happiness if– if I gave her m-more options–"

"Forced options," Diluc grumbled, rightfully angry at the blonde's interferences. Based on his inference, three of the five suitors wouldn't have been whisked away by Lumine's whims if it weren't for her brother’s influence. And judging by his pained reaction, Diluc would be right.

"But she’s not my real sister.” Aether sobbed. “She never will be— she’s just an image I had of her. And I-I still ended up making this false Lumine more miserable."

"No shit." Diluc snickered with narrow eyes. "You made her miserable—"

The duke just wished he knew where Aether was from the very beginning. He would've had Prince Aether's head before this whole damn game even started.

"And you made me so fucking miserable, Crown Prince," Diluc muttered.

“I just wanted to be with (Y/n).” He breathed in shakily, “is that so much to ask for?”

"P-Please, listen to me." Aether wept. "Ch-Changing someone's fate brings more harm than good!"

THUD.

Aether shook as a claymore thrust through the concrete just a hair beside his ear. He gulped under the towering gaze of those piercing red eyes. They glowered over him, and they were far from pleased. Aether was too terrified to look away as he saw how Diluc's eyes spiraled into the abyss. The air was thick with heat emanating from Diluc’s pyro-abilities. The sound of the metal rang in the prince’s ears like a warning, thus, the strength in his shoulders weakened and his muscles have gone mushed as he cowered down.

Changing fate brings more harm than good? What a joke. By the looks of it, letting fate run its course only puts the prince in greater turmoil.

Maybe Diluc should offer his head to Her Highness. It doesn't matter whether he lived or died, does it not? If she's so desperate to find the missing prince again, it wouldn't even matter what state his casket is in.

"Di–"

Aether couldn’t breathe.

"Don't struggle."

Diluc effortlessly slid the prince's entire body up the wall after grabbing his throat. Aether's feet curled up as he struggled to steal a breath. He tried to kick and claw Diluc's arms away, but the man stood his ground. Ruby eyes continued to pursue him with an icy rage that Aether was all too familiar with.

The fact that they both placed a lot of faith in one another was a mistake.

Aether's eyes started to tear up involuntarily. Diluc spoke those words as if they weren't threatening remarks, but a merciful command. Yet it doesn't change the fact that he intended to assassinate the prince with his bare hands. Aether began balling up his fists and striking him, but it was ineffective.

"..."

Diluc coldly watched his stomach bleed out like a student dissecting a frog.

Aether's vision clouded. As he flailed his limbs like a wild animal, dark blotches started to appear in his line of sight. His fingers are unwittingly clawing at everything as the adrenaline starts to kick in. Aether never wished to harm a soul, but at that moment he was aiming for Diluc's eyes.

His survival instincts kicked in.

He can't die.

Not like this.

"Si–..."

Lumine. Sister.

Aether needed to apologize to his sister.

He still hoped to say sorry— sorry for leaving her to run a kingdom alone— sorry for not being able to save her in the original timeline—

sorry for resetting and rewriting the game just to see her alive and happy again.

Aether had so much unfinished business piled up. So many discoveries he has yet to pen down. He can't die here. He mustn’t.

He grabbed something. A fleeting crimson near his assailant's collarbone.

Was it Diluc's hair?

He pulled harder. All his strength was wasted on that sliver of red hope. Anything that would get his assailant to stop.

And Diluc did. His grip on Aether's throat loosened as the prince fell back on the floor. Aether wheezed, his vision slowly returning to him. His bated breathing echoed inside the room as his eyesight returned to him. When the prince's eyes finally focused sharply, he saw silk.

This wasn't Diluc's hair, it was–

"(Y/n)’s ribbon."

Diluc used the very same ribbon (Y/n) to decorate a bottle of fire-water with to tie up his hair.

Aether shivered.

"It seems like you wanted to choose your death."

Oh fuck, oh fuck.

Aether looked up. He shouldn't have looked up.

Duke Diluc Ragnvindr's face was red with a grin uncannily reaching his ears to a degree that shouldn't be possible. His expression was akin to a lovesick young adult twisted to its extremities. He appeared to look excited. To think that he burns up by just a mention of this person’s name makes Aether sick to his stomach.

"Allow me to heed your last wish, Your Highness."

The prince felt his whole body tense up as Diluc wrapped the ribbon around his neck.

Diluc did not give him any more room to breathe as if his body was moving automatically.

This wasn’t Diluc Ragnvindr anymore.

His eyes were empty.

This was a man possessed.

"Ch...de..." Aether forced out his last words as the ribbon quickly wrung around him.

"S..ve... my... s....ter"

———

Diluc only pulled out of his trance after he started washing the blood off his hands. Elzer subsequently informed him that the duke had entered the manor bloodied and unkempt with no recollection of how he got there and that he had strolled carelessly to the restroom like a corpse. There was a commotion across the entire Ragnvindr manor and rumors that he had lost an unpleasant duel quickly circulated. Better that than the truth, he supposed. Even his memory of what transpired in Aether's basement is hazy. Diluc only had their red ribbon and the idea of winning in his mind. He refused to let things continue as they are.

It wasn't until he started drying himself with a towel that he realized that the crown prince perished by his hands.

To think that Diluc used to be so terrified of offending royalties– of accidentally slipping a lese-majeste out of his lips– but now he let a royal's soul slip out of his wrists.

It's invigorating.

Diluc not only tied his fate with theirs, but he successfully managed to cut their ties with those disgusting vermin they call their “regulars.” They can't have them anymore, and they won't even intend to reach out. No one remembers who Server C is. They are now alone together with him. He’s the only person they can depend on. Diluc's breathing heaved lower. Just thinking about their inevitable dependence excites him.

He quietly closed the door behind him.

"Good evening, Server C." He smiled. "Or, should I say, my beloved?"

Just the two of them.

They won't look at anyone else. They can't. The whole world will now feel what he felt when he was unable to touch (Y/n). Only HE has the privilege to hold them now.

It's just the two of them in this world left. After all, there is no statute of limitations once you learn how to play Creator.

Diluc Ragnvindr had successfully rewritten this game’s script.

He no longer carries any in-game responsibilities, much like how there is no Lord Kamisato, Justice Ajax, Retainer Dainsleif, and Chief Albedo that exists in this “script.rpy” file.

It’s just him and his beloved server, alone.

Diluc wiped his mouth. He's practically dro– no, his mouth is literally watering at the thought. Diluc's heart is pounding, almost threatening to break free from his ribs.

"I’m all you have now, (Y/n)." Diluc's gaze softens. "Isn't that wonderful?"

His hands reluctantly traveled under their blanket where their hands should be, scared that when he reaches out, he'll feel nothing there.

He felt their warmth.

Diluc grinned tearfully. He can finally touch them again. He felt their fingers crossed miraculously against his own.

"You’re so warm..."

He gently rubbed their calloused hand against his cheek.

No matter how overworked or ragged these hands were from washing the dishes, for him, they were silk to touch. So soft. So vulnerable.

Diluc swallowed his saliva with great difficulty. God. They’re so vulnerable right now. So peaceful. So fragile. His breathing increased in volume. He could just take them right here–

His bottom lip started to bleed. He was doing everything in his power not to cave in but his throat was starting to get parched. He breathed in deeply.

Not now. Please, not right now. Not when they probably don’t remember who he is.

Diluc wanted to see the look on their face as he finally kisses them. What expressions will they make? It's not fair to both of them to steal such a moment when they’re asleep. That's not what he had been waiting for. Not what he's been craving.

"My beloved, you're a beauty from afar, but you're even more flawless in my arms," Diluc muttered over their ear.

"And I'll do everything in my power to let it stay that way. Fate and the entire world be damned."

-----------

A/n: want to read more of this in a visual novel form? It's here :)

Edit: HERE'S THS IMPROVED SPRITES AND OVERALL UPDATED GAME!!!

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animeyanderelover · 3 months

Note

Can I get yandere sakamaki and mukami (I think that's their name) with a male reader who once were their friends, (during that time, they hide their feelings) but they accidentally kill him and one day they met him. After he was reincarnated and the moment they met is the same how they once first met

Example : reader met Shu in the garden, Shu will met reader when he is in the garden as well!

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, paranoia, stalking, clinginess, violence, sadism, delusional mindset, isolation, abduction, manipulation, clinginess, hallucination, mentions of self-harm in Azusa's part, male reader

We meet once more...

Sakamaki Shu

🎵Just why had you been so adamant on leaving him that day in favor of pursuing your dreams? Yes, you had promised him to return to him in a few years time yet your words had sounded shallow in his ears. The argument that followed is something his mind forces him to replay even decades later. Normally the both of you had never been the type to let your emotions get the better of you but something about your words had irked him and his words had agitated you. As the emotions had risen higher both of you had gotten physical with each other as the argument escalated. It's when you had turned around with barely suppressed anger and concluded this conversation to be over that Shu had snapped. He had underestimated his own strength in that moment as he had pushed you, his ears ringing with wrath he had been feeling in the moment. Your body, only human and unable to handle his unexpected outburst of strength, flew down the stairs before you hit your head with a sickening crack on the ground, laying there motionlessly all whilst the blood created a bloody hallow around your head.

🎵Everything that even remotely reminds him of you has been removed from his life since then as he's unable to bear the emotions he's feeling whenever he lays eyes on something that triggers past memories. Shu completely withdraws himself from the memories of you in an attempt to cope with the pain yet there is no relief for him. He sees you in his sleep, sees you every time he closes his eyes. In one moment you are smiling, in the next he sees your limp body as his mind reminds him that it is his fault that you are dead. It's his loss of control that ended your life and it is from that day on that Shu decides to completely suppress all of his emotions as he deems feelings as something that will only lead to bad decisions. With the complete isolation from feeling comes the loss of any interest and motivation as Shu grows indifferent to anything that is happening around him. He blends out the world around him as he lives seclusively in his own world where the only loyal companions he has are music and the haunting memories of you.

🎵It starts raining on that night as he is lying on a bench in a park yet he doesn't care as cold raindrops hit his equally cold skin. Blue eyes lazily stare at the grey sky before he closes them, blending the sound of the rain out by listening to some music as he closes his eyes. Instantly his inner vision is filled with memories of you, a familiar bittersweet ache grasping his dead heart. He doesn't notice when the raindrops stop hitting him, he only notices when someone grasps his shoulders and shakes him carefully. His heightened senses, previously submerged in a world only he knows, return to him as he hears over the music he is blasting into his ears a voice calling out to him, his nostrils flaring up as he picks up another scent next to the smell of fresh water pouring out of the sky. A hauntingly familiar smell. He cracks open his eyes yet his vision remains filled with the sight of your face looking down on him worried, an umbrella shielding him and you from the onslaught of rain. His heart starts quivering as blue eyes gaze upon you as emotions he swore to burrow reanimate. A hand instinctively shoots out to grab you by the shoulder and keep you in place, his grip slightly shaky. You... How are you...?

Sakamaki Reiji

☕You've always been impressed with him. Reiji is a walking library personified and you have always sought out his help when you were struggling with your own research. Reiji had taken it up on himself for that very same reason to take you under his wing and teach you about everything as he helped you with your own studies, needing you to be on the same level as him to be a worthy partner. Deep down he just loved the praise and attention you gave him for his impressive knowledge, something he had never gotten from his own mother. One day he took you to the mansion, to his own room as he had been working on a science project and had wanted you to see the final results. A few minutes. He had only left you alone for a few minutes to fetch some documents when he had heard an explosion which had rang louder in his ears due to his heightened senses. The sound had come from his room. An acidic smell had filled his room when he had arrived, the aroma stinging his eyes with water. Maybe, just maybe, the sight of your lifeless body on the ground had been another reason, your face deformed as you had been standing right above the test tubes when the chemical reaction had occured.

☕Over the years Reiji has done all that he could to downplay his own emotions. After all all had been your fault for getting too curious and playing around with his set. He had warned you to not touch anything unless he was there with you so your death had merely been a result of your own stupidity. Yet the occasional snicker of people like Ayato or Laito has always gotten more under his skin than it should have as they sometimes joke about the scientific accident on that day. After all their older brother who has always portrayed himself as the smartest person of them all had been careless enough to let such an accident happen. Perhaps it is the perfectioniest housing inside of him that starts considering their words more and more. Could he have done more on that day to prevent this from happening? He starts considering this question more in quieter moments and painful realisation hits him when he does come up with ideas that could have prevented you from dying on that day. Why didn't he think of those ideas earlier? He's never able to live this failure down and deep down it shakes up his core beliefs.

☕He's in the library that day to borrow a new staple of books that have just recently been published. Normally he doesn't like going under humans that much and this library is an especially sore spot for him. Even if it has gone through some major changes over the decades, this is the place where he met you so long ago for the first time. He despises the feelings that always threaten to pour out of him when he is in this place so he hurries up to get all those books. Just as he is about to walk away with all of them in his arms though, a familiar scent invades his nostrils, one that has his brain short-circuiting for a brief moment. Then a pouty voice fills his ears, complaining how you wanted to borrow these books as well for your upcoming studies in college. His head wipes around, pink eyes narrowing in disbelief and shock as he sees a spitting image of you standing behind him, the same sulky expression on your face that you used to always give him. You're startled when he drops the pile of books and swiftly walks over to you, his glare antagonising you as gloved hands suddenly grab your face and pull you closer to scrutinise your features better. How is this possible?

Sakamaki Ayato

🥇Ayato always wanted and needed to have it his way. That is something you were familiar with with passing time. Here and there the two of you did get into arguments but it never really escalated as you were somewhat forced to take on the role of the calmer person due to Ayato's aggressive behavior at times. He liked having you with him all the time, showing you off as if you were a priced possession of his. In a way you were as Ayato deeply loved you and he couldn't have cared less about the fact that the both of you were the same gender. As long as he kept on being the best he could have whatever he wanted after all in his mind. It was his forceful and aggressive temper that ultimately led to your death though as you had started making friends with new people, something he couldn't have despised more. A shouting match between the two of you where he demanded from you to drop those pathetic friends of yours, a violent hit to your head as you dared to stand up properly against him for the first time since your friendship had started and a dull thud as your body fell to the ground, eyes glossy with the unmistakable haze of death. Why do you humans have to be so fragile?

🥇None of this is his fault! He didn't do anything wrong! Those are words he constantly yells at his brothers as soon as he even thinks that they're trying to bring the incident up to him. It's all your fault for being so stupid to go against him! You-you should have known better than going against his demands... No matter how often he repeats those accusations, no matter how loud he yells them at someone, they never get through to him as his heart remains unconvinced. Unconsciously he is probably aware that he is at least partially responsible for your death as he should have been better at controlling his own strength yet it is his own arrogance and pride that doesn't allow his mind this realisation. The following decades he tries desperately to feed into his own ego by picking up hobby after hobby, especially ones involving physical activity to master them and convince himself that it wasn't his own lack of control over his own body that was to blame on your death. Yet still he finds himself constantly turning around, green eyes searching for you when he scores a goal or masters a sport only to be reminded that you are dead as his mood instantly worsens.

🥇Sometimes Ayato finds himself still approaching a certain place that remains special in his heart. An abandoned building at the edge of town that has decayed over the years only more. It's a place where he met you for the first time many years ago and both of you used to play around here though he would always win against you and puff out his chest whilst proclaiming himself to be the best. He's been avoiding the ruined building ever since your death but in the last few years he has occasionally found himself walking down the streets to stare at it from outside the rusty fences. It is the sound of a ball being kicked against the walls that peaks his curiosity and his eyes suddenly narrow. This is his special place even though he hasn't entered in decades... Who dares to tread on it? He effortlessly climbs up the fences though he initially hesitates to step on the property again. His eyes are able to pick up the sight of the intruder from this high though, someone who looks very familiar. You on the other hand nearly jump out of your skin when he storms over to you and grabs you by the hem of your shirt. Is this a fucking joke?? If it is, he is everything but amused!

Sakamaki Kanato

🧸Kanato has attached himself to you from the moment you gained his obsessive interest. After all besides Teddy he had no one else in his life so he was ecstatic and giddy to have finally found someone who could care for him and spend time with him. It has never been easy to deal with Kanato and his explosive and highly sensitive emotions. The worst thing that came out of it was the isolation that came with being Kanato's victim of obsession. A situation that had always been very dangerous turned into pure peril when he threatened to kill the person you had recently gotten close too, clutching his plushie tightly against his chest as he did so. Why would you betray him like this in the first place? He thought that you were happy with him... Isn't he more than enough for you? You're so greedy and selfish!! Your mistake on that day was trying to reason with him even though no logic would have worked on Kanato on that moment as the accusations piled up. You didn't love him! You wanted to leave him! He didn't want that... He didn't want to be left alone... That's why he killed you on that day in a frenzy as his hysteria got the better of him and stabbed you to death.

🧸He kept your corpse and pretended that you were still alive until the scent of rotting flesh threatened to shatter his sanity and he had to burn you. Unable to live without you though he instantly created a life-sized doll of yours and dressed it up with the clothes he still had of you so that it would even smell like you. Everything continued as if you were still there as his brain couldn't accept the reality that you had died and that he had been the one who had done it. Yes, in death they couldn't take you away from him but he hadn't considered in the moment of hysteria that he couldn't have you anymore either. As if to brush over this moment as if it had never happened he acted like you were still alive as he held tea parties and wheeled the puppet around the mansion, even taking you to meals where he tried to feed you. None of his other brothers spoke up and mentioned his deteriorating mental health as Kanato's mind created the delusion that you were still there as he even hallucinated that the puppet was speaking to him and answering his question. It was all a delicate delusion though that needed not to be shattered under any circumstances or else he would snap and turn into a maniac.

🧸Nothing has happened. You were never gone. A protective shield for his mind to not completely shut down. He's currently outside in a field of flowers as the moon shines in the sky, collecting some bouquets for the next tea party he plans to hold at midnight with you again. When he looks up though, he lets out a strangled sound when his eyes land on your form walking relaxed around outside, a cookie in your mouth as you hold a packet filled with sweets you just bought in town. For a short moment there is a crushing dread of realisation threatening to shatter him yet his mind pulls up its walls in the last moment. Cold hands grasp your own and you nearly get a heart attack as you turn around only to see a pale and sick-looking man standing right behind you, asking you with a trembling voice what you are doing outside. Both of you are about to have a tea party and you were supposed to wait for him. Then his eyes land on the packet of sweets which you dropped on the ground. If you wanted new sweets you could have just told him instead of leaving without his permission... Well, he'll punish you later. For now the both of you should return to the mansion.

Sakamaki Laito

🎹Laito saw the fact that the both of you are of the same gender not as a hurdle and more like a new and exciting adventure waiting to be uncovered by him. After all he truly couldn't care less about what gender you are. He's just taking it for what it is and goes for what he desires without any hesitation. Though he does understand that the time period the both of you are living in wasn't very accepting of couples of the same sex at the time. He didn't need their approval though as all he would have really needed to do was whisk you away and keep you in the mansion where hw ould have been able to do whatever he desired to do with you. Jealousy had already led him to kill people his mother had taken as temporary lovers and it was jealousy that fueled the crime of him murdering your secret lover and by accident you as well when he found out that you had kept the relationship a secret from him though the way you had reeked of someone else had given it away. He hadn't intended to stab you but when you had tried to fight against him to defend your already half-dead lover, he accidentally drove the knife right through your heart.

🎹To this day he still blames your lover for your death. He didn't let them touch you when you bled out on the ground as he stomped on their hand and broke all their bones in it, didn't listen to their pleas as he had twirled the knife around in his hand with a new icy ire burning in his green eyes and he didn't even stop torturing them long after their heart had stopped beating. Initially Laito simply tried to dismiss his feelings for you now that you were gone and tried to move on. He whored around with other people from women to men to everything else as if to convince himself that perhaps his feelings for you hadn't been anything special to begin with as it might have been simply a fleeting moment of excitement and ecstasy yet his mind always drifts to you whenever his tongue is in the mouth of someone else. There is a sick feeling in his stomach whenever he undresses someone or his current companion touches him suggestively and he gets no pleasure and relief whenever he fucks someone for as soon as the moment of ecstasy passes by his mind is overcome with a disgust he didn't know he could feel. Temporary freedom only lasts for a few seconds before he's back where he started.

🎹On that night he finds himself going once again through all pubs in town in search for those few seconds of blissful forgetfullness, a dangerous addiction he has developed to escape from the clutches of disgust and guilt. The smell of alcohol is especially bitter when he hits up the bar where he met you nearly half a century ago, green eyes darting around in search of his next victim. That's when his eyes are drawn to a figure sitting alone on the counter and from behind their silhoutte reminds him painfully much of you. His feet move on their own as he steps closer to the counter and the closer he gets, the more a sweet fragrance of blood invades his nose and mind. Green eyes narrow as he lays a hand on the shoulder of the person who turns around surprised when feeling his palm. For the first time in his life Laito is unable to come up with a witty reply as he stares into your face, in disbelief at who he is looking at. His grip subconsciously tightens on your shoulder as if not wanting to let you go and it is only when you let out an uncomfortable wince that he snaps out of it. A smooth grin covers up his shock as he slides down the sit next to you, green eyes gleaming with a predatory glint as he offers to order you a few more drinks.

Sakamaki Subaru

⬜Subaru has always considered himself to be an unwanted monster that would only hurt the people he cares about which is why he has closed his heart so that he may never get attached to anyone only to be reminded of how unwanted he really is. It's painful for him to see how you slowly peel him out of his shell as emotions he has troubles to properly grasp bloom inside of him. It is all so agonising, confusing and somewhere in between that it is even a bit beautiful yet he is wavering, unsure whether to trust you with his heart. He should have never trusted you to begin with. Of course you wouldn't want him. The pain and heartbreak that assaults him the moment he finds out that you have already a lover and plan to propose to them tear his heart out of his chest and the sheer agony that comes with it has him entering a screaming rage he cannot control. His vision is simmering red as his wrath takes over and has him lashing out. His hands are coated with blood, your blood, when he comes to his senses only to be plunged into his next despair as he realises that he lost complete control and killed not only your lover but also you.

⬜The stench of blood never leaves his hands nor does the sickening warm and sticky feeling of it. He swears that it's still there, reeking and reminding him that he truly is a monster destined to kill anyone important to him. Sometimes he spends an hour washing and rubbing his hands until they are raw to clean himself of that cursed smell and feeling yet it is a mark that stays with him to remind him of his grave sin. Subaru withdraws himself completely from the outside for a while and hides in his room, locks himself away as if thinking that he is a beast that has to be put behind bars. He most likely thinks that he is. The agony and the grief comes in periods. Sometimes he manages to push it all down so that only his heart is aching and sometimes the walls break into pieces and the flood of emotions bursts out of him. Hot and salty tears cascade down his cheeks as a scream of anguish escapes his lips as furniture is shattered and walls receive cracks as he violently punches around him until he calms down and sits in the destruction his anger has caused with dull eyes.

⬜Sometimes he even neglects taking care of the roses in the garden, his confidence to care for things weaker than him utterly shattered as he thinks of himself as incapable of even nurturing the flowers. It takes him time until he slowly starts picking up this hobby of his again though he remains distant and cold to everyone else around him, his roses the only thing he seems to care about anymore. Sometimes he visits a florist in town to buy some new buds to plant into the garden of the mansion, although he always hurries with his shopping as this shop brings back too many memories. It is there though that his heart blossoms once again because as soon as he walks in he spots you arranging flowers into bouquets, your eyes meeting his as you greet him cheerfully. He stops right there, his body no moving a muscle as if subconsciously afraid that as soon as he moves, he'll do something terrible. His emotions leave him trembling as he can't help the stinging tears threatening to escape his eyes all whilst you give him a concerned look as he feels his control slowly slipping away from him. Shit! Why after all of this time?

Mukami Ruki

📘Ruki has always liked to give you more trust due to the fact that you were also a man as he had lost faith in the loyalty of women after his own mother left his father and him for another man, leading inevitably to the downfall of his life. You were supposed to be better than this... You weren't supposed to also leave him behind... Yet his world is shaken when it is revealed to him that you have accepted an apprenticeship far away from the town he is residing in with his other brothers, oblivious to his own horror as you deliver him the news whilst looking so excited. Are you really so selfish that you would prioritise your own dreams over him? All Ruki wanted was to prevent you from leaving, all he intended to do was to weaken your body with drugs so that you wouldn't be able to take the long journey to the new town. A twinge of paranoid fear caused him to put in too much of the drugs into your food though as he wanted to be sure that they'd do their job which led him to give you an overdose that ultimately led to your death.

📘Responsibilities have always rested on his shoulders as he is essentially the leader of the Mukami brothers and so he intends to focus on his duties instead of taking the time to mourn. He tells himself that he shouldn't mourn a person who wanted to abandon him in the first place and that you probably never loved him to begin with yet even to the eyes of his brothers it is obvious that Ruki is suffering. As soon as they attempt to console them though he shuts them up as he insists with a slightly clenched jaw that he is completely fine and that they are worried over nothing. On the inside he feels like he is rotting away though and as much as he tries to push that thought away, the emptiness that is crying out inside of him becomes harder to blend out until one day Ruki breaks down for a moment, leaving the rest of his brothers to care for him on that day as he just spends his time being a mess before he shakily puts himself together the next day, making all of his brothers swear that they never mention your name again nor his outburst.

📘For decades no one in the mansion mentions your name and Ruki continuously tells himself that this is for the best as he wants to bury you in the past. There is no remedy for the bittersweet memories though that have been haunting him ever since your death nor for the slimy dread that clings to him whenever he realises that it is his own fault that you died. He's on the other side of the street when he happens to glance over to the other side, staring through the windows of a pharmacy that has been there since nearly 200 years. He remembers the place very well since he met you there for the first time and he remembers the place well because he purchased the ingredients for the drug that ultimately killed you in the same store. In there everything began and also ended. Truly poetic, isn't it? It's not his memories that cause him to stop though as he stares at the pharmacy. It's the sight of a familiar figure that has his body pausing and his throat tightening. He's rushing over to the store in the next second, almost experiencing a tunnel vision as he can only focus on you. He slams the package of pills you've purchased right out of your hands, visions of your dead body haunting him.

Mukami Kou

🎤Kou has never really given much of a care that both of you were of the same gender. He's been sexually explored by other people as a young child and for that knows firsthand of the evil that others carry in their hearts, regardless of their sex. It's his ability to see through the true heart of people that has him enamored with you as he realises that you have a pure heart which allows him to give you his full trust. One day though you confess to him that your parents have become aware of your friendship with him, precisely of Kou's feelings for you which you remain oblivious to at the moment and have threatened to disinherit you if you do not distance yourself from him. That is when Kou makes a plot to get rid of your parents as he won't tolerate anyone to get in the way of him and you. All was carefully planned out. He'd lure you away before setting your parents house on fire at night so that they'd die in there yet you figure his plan out. The words you yell at him that night before rushing into the burning house will haunt him forever as you admit that you wish you'd never met him before you try to save your parents only to die together with them.

🎤He could have stopped you. He should have stopped you. You were only a human after all whilst he is a vampire. It's your words that completely froze him though and disabled him to work properly as his mind went into numbing shock after having heard your words. He wanted you to take those words back yet you died in the fire and left those words that told him that he was unwanted by you as an eternal curse that has been sticking with him ever since. Those words echo inside his head and for the first years following your death they drag him down into a hysteric depression. He cannot go to sleep at all as your disappointed and angered face haunts his vision, your voice telling him that he is someone you never wished to have met over and over again so that he wakes up not even half an hour after he has gone to bed, in tears and babbling incoherent words. He writes a lot of songs about you but never finishes them as he either draws a blank and starts breaking down in tears or rips them apart as his emotions get the better of him. Not even his brothers can help to piece his broken self together.

🎤He's sitting outside on that day, dull eyes observing a lake where the both of you used to hang out often back when you were still alive. He's on his own, something he hasn't been in decades as he hasn't left the mansion since your death and was too broken to be on his own which left his brothers no choice but look out more for him. There is nothing in particular on his mind as he gazes at the lake until a melody catches his ears. Normally he would have just blended it out like he has done music a lot in those years since your death yet there is something very familiar as he listens as someone plays the strings of the guitar. That's a melody you always used to play... Suddenly it's like someone lit a fire under him as he jumps up, eyes flying over the field surrounding the lake until he covers a small figure also sitting here, playing on a guitar they brought with them. Initially he wants to demand from where they know that melody as this is something that only belonged to you and for that shouldn't be played by anyone else but poisonous words die down when he catches a better sight of them and realises that it is you. He stands there motionlessly, listening to the song as tears start to escape his eyes.

Mukami Yuma

🌱Yuma has been sceptical about the whole situation from the moment he found out that he had feelings for you. Not necessarily because the both of you were men as he had always been an outcast and would have been considered that all the more if the humans would have figured out that he was now also a vampire. It was more the aspect of being in love that made him somewhat doubtful as he had quite an iffy mindset about it all. You didn't know at that time that he was a vampire and he knew what the rest of the village you lived in thought of creatures of the night. Who was to tell that you wouldn't try to cast him out in the name of god as well if you were to discover his true nature? Unfortunately that was exactly what happened and your reaction was as fearful as expected as you instantly tried to get away from him. He tried to explain it to you, tried to get you to listen but you had been indoctrinated with the same nonsense all other villagers believed in. Shut up... He just wanted you to shut up for a moment as he pressed his hands over your mouth, applying too much pressure and accidentally breaking more than just a few bones that were the reason for your death.

🌱It was on that day that he became aware just how much stronger he had gotten since he had been turned into a vampire as he held your limp body in his arms. He doesn't want to be consoled by any of his brothers though as he turns around or growls at them to shut up as soon as he senses that they want to talk with him about the accident. Yuma doesn't try to blame anyone else for this though as he acknowledges that this is solely his fault. Your reaction was to be expected and he should have known best just how much strength he possessed. There is no chance he wants to give himself to grieve though. He has never openly bemoaned anyone before and for that he doesn't quite know how to do so. Instead he spends a lot of time in his garden and tends to his vegetables and plants, though he can't help but always be reminded that those fragile things could be even easier ripped apart by his hands than you were. Yuma needs a long time until finally he starts cracking as he has just tried to bear the sorrow up until that point and even he is startled by the silent tears that drip down his face without any warning.

🌱There are some pretty cherry blossom trees in a forest near the city and they have been there even longer than the village built nearby. Yuma visits them once a year when the pink and delicate flowers are in full bloom, a little tradition he has been carrying on even if you have been gone for over a century now. Some of the pink petals rain down on him on that night as he walks through the little valley of the trees, the fresh scent of the blossoming flowers an aroma that surrounds the entire place. At this late at night it is rather rare for people tos visit this place which is why he is mildly annoyed when he catches sight of someone sneaking around, his mood instantly ruined as he wanted to have a peaceful stroll for himself. Until a breeze passes through the forest, carrying next to the scent of cherry blossoms another aroma with it. His previously worsened mood is instantly replaced with shocked disbelief as he instantly recognises that smell. It only takes him a few large strides to close the distance between him and the other person. He suddenly appears behind you like a large and looming shadow, his eyes narrowed as he grabs one of your arms to prevent you from running.

Mukami Azusa

🔪Azusa has never had the courage to tell you about his growing feelings for you. Yes, he has always been very clingy and attached to you but he has been like this even when his feelings for you were still largely platonic. His behavior did increase though when a different kind of love started blossoming inside of him. Truly, he doesn't care about who his darling is as long as he feels comforted and safe in their presence which is precisely what you give him. Perhaps if he would have found the courage to confess to you things would have turned out differently as he instead has to bear witness how someone else confesses their love to you before he does. He wants to plead you to not accept but his tongue feels like it has turned to led as he instead has to watch how you accept their confession and start a relationship with them. All he intended to do was to threaten your partner a bit yet they had to start acting so rudely and hurt his own feelings whilst flaunting that you only loved them before he started attacking them. You had heard the noises inside the house, tried to stop him and ended up taking the fatal blow.

🔪His brothers find him sitting in the bloody mess of two corpses, his own body clinging to yours as he keeps on begging you to wake up again, whispering you that your now cold skin terrifies him just as much as the vacant expression in your eyes. They have to tear him carefully away from your body, something Azusa can only object weakly to as he begs his brothers to not separate you from him. He loses all will to live for a while as he asks his brothers shakily if they could stab him in the same place where he stabbed you, tears in his eyes as he admits that he was the one who killed you and even if his brothers do try to console him and tell him that it was a terrible accident, Azusa is inconsolable. He's closely monitored for a long time as his older brothers all fear that he might try to harm himself somehow. Azusa himself withdraws himself from reality as he spends most of the time hidden under his blanket, rarely getting up and not speaking for months. The only sounds he makes are those of silent sobs, the tears never seeming to dry off no matter how much and how long he cries quietly.

🔪It takes him years before he gathers the strength to leave the mansion again and whilst he avoids the place where he took your life vehemently, he finds himself often returning to the location where he met you for the first time in an attempt to think of the happy memories. It's a random alleyway where you found him for the first place and offered ro bandage his wounds he had inflicted on himself on that day. As if hoping that you'll return if he does it again, Azusa often cuts himself in the same alleyway before sitting down and waiting there, looking like a wet cat with no place to return to. Some people do approach him but he ignores them since none of them are you and if they bother him too much normally all it takes is a rather dangerous look in his eyes and the flash of his knife for them to disappear. Then one day you do appear though, 80 years after your death and Azusa can barely believe what he is looking at as you ask him worriedly if he needs some band-aids for his cuts. In the next moment he is suddenly clinging to your legs, tears dropping down his eyes as he sobs out apologies for an accident you do not know of.

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bitterchocoo · 1 month

Text

The Past Defines You

Dan Heng | M. Reader as Wanderer [Genshin Impact]

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"The past is the past... but it's still you.."

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After that day, everyone forgot of his existence. His past crimes, his misdeeds, his actions. All of it. Erase from time and space. But despite that... he continues one. Living his life to atone his sins.. even though no one knows of his past existence..

Which is why...

[Name] grows to hate. HATE. Dan Heng.

Why..? This.. this isn't fair!!

How could he get to go scot-free with no consequences?! He too had committed sins that were unforgiving! And yet!! WHY?!

It's not fair.. it's not fair!

"[Name], you're a part of the Nameless now and yet I can't seem to understand why you hate me so much."

That nonchalance.. it's like he didn't know.. how dare he..

It's been a few weeks since he became a Nameless. The others thought that maybe because he's new and that's why he's so guarded. So they gave him some space. In the end, [Name] did somewhat warm up to them. But his relationship with Dan Heng didn't change one bit.

In [Name]'s eyes, the other deserves every inch of hate.

"You don't understand? Seriously?" He clicked his tongue at Dan Heng's words and how nonchalant it was, as if he had done nothing wrong..

"You.. Imbibitor Lunae.. had committed the most outrageous sin of all, and yet you got to walk freely? With no burden on your shoulders?" [Name] says with calm, hot white anger. His tone's sharp, not missing a single beat, not a stutter. Crystal clear words paired with hatred.

Dan Heng seems a little taken aback but nonetheless he remained as calm as ever, taking a deep breath he replied. "I'm not—" "You're not him, yes I get it! Would you stop that already!?

He can't. He simply can't control his anger when the other only keeps saying the same thing over and over again.

"You, the incarnation of the High Elder. Burden such a heavy sin, don't you think you should atone for it? You're nothing but a coward who's running away from one's problem!"

"Don't you get it?! Past, present, or future.. doesn't matter.. IT'S STILL YOU!!"

"You're a God.. do you think I'm evil?"

"If you accept that he is you, just as you are you, then yes—you are evil."

"Your reincarnation is flawed, you're supposed to not remember, and yet you do.. you do remember.."

"If you still remember everything.."

"Dan Feng's emotions.. memories.."

"Regaining your memories means reverting completely to your previous reincarnation. All the emotions that you discarded will return to you."

"The past is the past... but it's still you.."

"You are still Dan Feng."

"So stand up and shoulder his sins as it is yours!!"

"Nothing will change the fact that he is you, as you are you.. Imbibitor Lunae."

#seme male reader #top male reader #x male reader #honkai star rail x male reader #dan heng x male reader #honkai star rail x reader #dan heng x reader #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #dan heng #hsr x male reader #hsr dan heng #hsr #genshin impact #genshin #genshin wanderer #wanderer #x reader

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ramonathinks · 9 months

Text

who’s your god? — geto suguru (oneshot; no part two)

summary: suguru geto is the reincarnation of a powerful god or so he claims, using his abilities to prey on as many weak minded housewives as he can.

warnings: (18+, minors/ageless/blank blogs will be blocked) mention of church/religion, sex, adultery, cult like themes, sacrilege(?), begging, pet names (good girl, slut), corruption, finger sucking, public sex, people are watching, geto refers to himself as god, spanking, manipulation, race isn’t mentioned but i envision all my y/n’s as black so yeah. yes, repostttt

A-are you sure?” You swallow and gulp, staring at the man in front of you. His dark hooded eyes staring back at you.

“I have no reason to lie to you.” He says in a hushed tone as your husband walks up the stairs. With every painful creek of the staircase you can’t help but to wince. “Your purity… is in danger, has been for a long time… many of those in higher powers have spoke to me, they do want to help you to remain pure… to be in a good standing of course. That’s why I’m here.”

“Is there anything I can do?” With pleading eyes and shaky hands you scoot closer to him. You children deserved a pure mother, one to help them cross over when the time approached. You longed to be reunited with your husband when time was right.

“Why, of course.” He did a sly slimy smile. “We’ll sit some time aside and pray on this together at the temple.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much sir– eh, master geto.” You could see his lip curl at the name change and seen his nails dig into him palms. Pulling out a simple cross necklace from the insides of his black robe, he handed it to you, placing it into the center of your palm and closing your hand to form a fist.

“Keep this. Wear it. Don’t take it off until we next meet. It’s vital for the ritual we’ll have to preform.”

So you did. You wore it everywhere and didn’t take it off. Anything to keep your purity safe. You showed with it on, wore it underneath all your shirts and dresses.

“The gods spoke to me,” A phone call on the early morning after three weeks had passed. “It’s time.” It wasn’t even dawn yet, just a little past 3am and you were drowsy. “Wear something light. Very thin.”

You swallowed and looked over yourself, all of the sudden nervous and self conscious. Your body a bit more full and plum since the birth of two babies, everything thin you owned was tight against your body.

But you slipped into a long sleeved dark old dress you owned, that covered your entire body and hugged your figure.

You couldn’t help but feel so out of place and so weird when you walked into the sacred temple. Masked and cloaked individuals stood still, you could barely tell that they were breathing yet alone alive.

Swallowing, you made your way to the center of the temple, where you knew Geto would be waiting.

He stood with great posture and a small cross between his fingers, pressing his lips against it before rubbing his fingers against it, up and down. Your core tingled and you gripped the sides of your dress, feeling too hot to keep walking. Your knees buckled and your hands clutched at the wall by your side.

“Master Geto, he—lp!” You slipped and fell to the floor, landing with a small oof that left your mouth. A buzzing sensation on your clit and even feeling a rough hand on your folds. Massaging and pulling them apart.

“Just let it over take you. Just be glad, I didn’t do this while your husband was around. I’m being mighty merciful to you, my dear.” His voice is a shiver up your spine and his presence overtakes you, you feel him all over and he hasn’t even walked over to you yet.

“Tell me, my dear…” His voice cures your ails, making every moment more breathable again. “If I told you that the only way to keep your purity intact would be the touch of a god, would you still be willing?” His voice is sly and cocky.

You squeeze your eyes tightly, a light relief of touch making you moan heavily before it’s quickly snatched away. “That was just a taste, a small taste of purity that could welcomed back into your little soul.”

Something stirred up inside of your chest and a heavy weight made you groan, making you painfully uncomfortable and aware of just what you were missing.

“I need it.” You voice hoarse and detached, you weren’t sounding like yourself. “I’d do anything for it—!” You voice faded.

You felt several hands on you all at once but nobody was there. Solar bright hotness scarred your chest while the cross marked itself into your skin, the smell of burnt flesh all around you.

As if hours had passed, Geto finally approached you. Putting your head in his lap. He crouched and whispered in your ear, “I’m going to fuck the purity back into you.” Licking the insides of your ear before biting and sucking on the lobe. “You’ll be clean again.” He promised.

Slipping your dress up and removing your dainty underwear. “Already so soaked. You’re already ready for me.” His finger caressed your lips and he kissed you. His tongue licking throughout your mouth and sucking on every inch of your tongue.

Cloaked and masked individuals circled around you both and you clang into his grasp, shivering.

“They have to watch. They have to be here.” He explained calmly. “They’re praying over us, praying for you and your purity… shall I ask again, if you really want this? Remember the feeling that you felt…” That feeling was all you could think about, his touch and his voice amplifying everything.

He knew you wanted it. Hanging it over your head. Watching you pant and groan, your thighs sticky and your head spinning. “Please… you know I need it.”

“What would you husband think of you now…” he twists his fingers in your mouth, drawing them in and out. “Watching you beg like a little slut for me to fuck you… would he like it?”

You couldn’t bare to answer. “Please just fuck me already…” you pleaded with him, your eyes clouded with lust, his filled with sin and all he could do was drink it up.

The dizziness continued as the people watching stepped closer, you gulped and trembled, feeling like you can’t breathe.

“I’m going to give you exactly what you need to be pure again.” He pulls his robe off quickly and your eyes follow. His body sculpted to perfection, lean and a perfect built. Your eyes trailed down to his cock and you tried not to moan aloud.

Long and girthy with a dark pink tip, standing curved and full at your attention. You swallowed hard.

Leaning over you, he rubs himself between your cool wet gooey folds, lining his cock against your entrance. “Ready?” He murmurs and your eyes look between his then to his cock before you look to the lingering eyes around you.

“Yes. I’m ready.” Your voice strong and steady as your hands grab at his shoulders.

He slipped between your thighs and all of the heat and sweat around your body disappeared when a small moan left your lips. His cock completely splitting you open and his fingers digging into your thighs. Your legs spread wide as his hips thrust forward, hard.

Burying his nose into your neck he does a deep laugh. His hips wild with ever thrust, the splashy wetness from your pussy echoing around the temple. Moans bounce around with each time he plunges in and out of you.

Clenching around him, he groans, pulling himself out before quickly tapping his cock against your wet folds that open wide for him. He feeds your deprived insides his merciful cock with a sinister smile before he says:

“Tell me, who’s your fucking god now? Huh? Who do you belong to? Who is fucking you, hm? Who’s fucking this pussy pure?”

Gripping his shoulders harder and meeting his thrust you finally whisper, “You… you are, master Geto.”

His hips stutter when you tighten up on him, “Oh, so tight… so fucking tight.” He squeezed your thighs and ram inside of you, both of your moans loud. “Gonna fucking cum inside this pretty pussy.” He promises, jerking his hips and fucking deeper inside of your core.

Feeling every twitch from you, he uses two fingers to rub at your needy swollen clit. “Oh you like that? You like when I fuck this flower open?”

He plants kisses up and down your throat. “Please just…” you lock your legs around his waist, tightly. Wetness sliding down your thighs.

He shutters and sighs, rocking his hips and thrusting harder inside. His eyes intense as they glare down at you. “Such a good girl,” He says, his voice guff and his cock throbbing hard.

Your nails dig into his skin and your pussy squirts as he works his way in and out of you.“Take it.” He tip kissing your womb ever so gently before he’s pounding inside again, watching your thighs jiggle with every moment.

“Take my cum.” He growls, stilling over you. His body shakes and so goes yours, once his cum is planted inside of you, your body feels cool again.

Panting, you look into his dark eyes. “Am I pure?” Your eyes shining with hope and pleasure.

“Far from it.” He says and your face falls. “Turn around.”

Embarrassed and confused, you turn on your stomach.

You feel his rough hands touching on your ass and squeezing the plushness of it before he does the unexpected. A loud slap rings throughout the temple and you grown in pain. “Count.” He does another one to the opposite cheek.

“O-one…” Your soaked folds growing even wetness. “Two…”

Rubbing his cock between your ass he does another slap. “Three—!”

“I’m going to have my way with you for the rest of the day… until you physically can’t anymore.” He says with a deep chuckle. “Ready?”

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deadsetobsessions · 3 months

Text

Pt. 4

Sorry this took so long. In the hospital still. Out of the hospital now!

For @unadulteratedsoulsweets

——

It had been early in the morning when she’d stepped foot in the manor. It was closer to noon, now, that found the reincarnation attentively sitting in one of the (if she remembered correctly from the blue prints) three massive kitchens located in Wayne manor.

She sat atop one of the island stools Damian had ushered her into, spaced a comfortable distance from the man that was her biological father in this life. Her mask dangled at her hip, a comfort she indulged in after unpacking her things. In truth, she’s had cookies before, but it had been so long since she’s tasted it that she might as well have never tried it before. Damian and Alfred Pennyworth worked with maximum efficiency, measuring out flour and sugar and chocolate like there were no tasks more important than this.

Alfred Pennyworth also avoided a specific cabinet that smelled slightly of metal polish and gun powder. It was kept away from the perishables.

Perhaps the manor was smaller and much more homely than the palace, but the reincarnate could see the sense in and approved of the various well-hidden caches of weapons around. Meant for non-lethal take downs, of course, but anything can be lethal if you tried hard enough. Or, considering the vigilante filled manor she had agreed to vacation in, anything could be lethal if one did not try hard enough to keep it non lethal.

The scrape of a spoon drew her attention back to Damian, waving away the off topic musings her mind had wandered into now that a large portion of her brain power was freed from the duty of fear.

She tracked how Damian existed within this space he had so clearly made for himself. He was… happier. Kinder. More. More at ease, more settled into his skin instead of where he stretched it to fit the cast of the Demon’s Heir. Simply, more. He was more Damian than he had been in the league.

When Damian was locked within the walls of the palace, his shoulders were always held straight. There’d been a- not quite darkness- cruelty in his eyes and gait that their grandfather had eagerly nurtured. His chin had remained lifted, his actions closed and callous. She’d feared, for while, that Damian would follow their grandfather’s footsteps. Until the day she saw him sneak a bird into his room to heal, her heart had trembled and grieved to see someone she loved imitate the worst parts of her abuser. It didn’t change the fact that she loved him, but it changed how she taught him.

But experience is a better teacher than she will ever be, and Damian had little chance to experience true kindness in the pits of the league.

Here, Damian is light. Perhaps less aware than he normally would have been, on the look out for fatal attacks as she had trained him to be within the league, but here he is free and safe and relaxed. It feels like she’s sitting in a haze, the chirps of birds and the clouded noon sun casting everything into an unreal light.

“Ukhti, assistance is requested.” Her brother holds out a bowl of dough. Her heart hurt with how happy it was. She squished the dough between her fingers like a child rediscovering her childhood. In some ways, she was.

——

As she watched Damian, in turn the others observed her. Bruce sat beside her, cataloguing every minuscule expression of his child, the first and the eldest, in an attempt to make up for lost time. And truly, it was minuscule. For all Bruce trained in micro-expressions and movements, his eldest- god, he had another daughter, the eldest- daughter remained a mystery from which he gleaned little of. Her face never lifted from that trained neutrality, having resettled back into it after first bite of b’stilla. He cradled the mug of coffee in his hands, the tang of grief and guilt roiling in his stomach as his daughter hesitantly but skillfully rolled a ball of dough.

“Pennyworth has divulged his secrets to me.” Damian plucked the ball from his sister’s hand, who allowed it with traces of… bemusement, perhaps? His eldest daughter flicked her eyes up in question, perhaps mildly amused. Even if she had more than two decades worth of training, Bruce was frustrated that he could not read her. She was his daughter.

Already he fails her. For too long, he had failed her.

“He chills the dough for a chewier cookie. I, and some of the others with adequate taste, prefer this texture. But which would you find adequate?”

His daughter flickered through that sign language again, the one he had no knowledge of. Considering he knew multiple from each continent, that was saying a lot. He was catching a few repeated signs, but nothing concrete.

Alfred waited patiently as they had their conversation, paying sharp attention to their motions. Bruce… felt like he was sitting next to Cassandra. He supposed they were the same, except his eldest daughter hadn’t gotten free.

“That wasn’t what I meant, and you know it.” Damian grumbled, resting his hands on the counter, making sure to keep it away from his meticulously clean clothes. “We’ll cook them immediately.”

Bruce, in a fit of inspired parenting, offered a compromise.

“We could do two batches. One for right now and save a batch for later.”

Unspoken were the words ‘so she can try the cookies now.’ Despite the silent nature of his intent, Bruce thought that Alfred and Damian understood anyways.

“A fine suggestion, Master Bruce.”

“Thanks, Alfred.”

——

She sensed them before she saw them. Her father had slipped out after his suggestion, no doubt intercepting his flock of traumatized orphans before they could pile in.

Perhaps she had inherited something from Bruce Wayne after, considering how many of them she’d taken under her wing. She rolled the ball of dough between oiled fingers in a haze. Faint memories, impressions of a life long faded, guided her hands as she smooshed the cookies to her preference.

“Penny for your thoughts, Miss Al-Ghul?”Alfred Pennyworth asked her.

‘A Pennyworth for my thoughts?’ She swapped sign language, eyes slyly watching for Damian’s reaction.

Damian, right on cue, clicked his tongue, looking defeated. Alfred, on the other hand, smiled wider.

“A Pennyworth for your thoughts indeed.”

Her humor faded into something softer. Longing. Melancholy.

‘It’s been a long time since I’ve made dessert for myself.’

She glanced at Damian, who was trying his best to pretend like he wasn’t paying attention to the conversation lest he caught another stray pun. ‘Or used it to inoculate poisons.’

“I see.” The butler patted his hands dry onto a towel, a sharp eye on Damian’s efforts at covering the dough meant for freezing. “I assure you that these cookies will remain poison free, have no worries about that. Now, would you like some tea?”

She shook her head. ‘I’ll make it myself later. Thank you.’

“Very well, Miss-”

“Hi, Alfred. Making cookies?”

Her hands continued to work on her tray, placing cookie dough on the tray with military precision. Damian remained relaxed, though watchful of her reaction.

“That’s correct, Master Tim.”

Tim shuffled over to her, and she turned. Ah, her partial benefactor.

“Little photographer.” She smiled, slightly. Her eyes, however, were warm. Alfred stilled for a brief second at her voice.

“Hi. It’s been a while.” Tim plopped down on the seat next to her. His whole body screamed of nostalgia. It’s odd to see the little scrawny Bristol boy grow into a full fledged vigilante. It seemed like yesterday she was keeping him from slipping on Gotham’s manifestations of its rot and plummeting down on its stone heart.

She hummed. ‘Not too long.’

“What is that supposed to mean? When had you met Drake, recently?”

She glanced at the little- not so little- photographer.

“She helped me bring B back.” Tim lied. She didn’t like how easily he lied to Damian… but on account of her fondness for him, she let it slide.

“Did you, Miss Al-Ghul?” Alfred wiped his hands on the hand towel he carried. “Then I suppose we owe you our sincere thanks.”

She blinked slowly.

‘I didn’t do much. I kept him alive just the once.’

“That is a harder task than one might think, Miss Al-Ghul. Master Tim has, arguably, the worst self preservation instincts out of the life risking vigilantes I have known.” And he has known many, Alfred seemed to imply.

She tilted her head in acknowledgement.

“Hey! What is this? Gang up on Tim day?”

“I would participate in that even if it wasn’t,” Damian stated, packing the frozen cookies away in the corner. “Come and help, Drake. My ukht is about to have her first cookies and we will bake it to perfection. Bring the tray.”

Tim scoffed but slid the tray away from her, Alfred seamlessly dropping a napkin for her to wipe off the dough from her fingertips.

“Thanks, by the way. For saving Z and Owens.”

‘They were my assassins. Even if you did manage to sway them to your cause.’ She tapped the marble island, before opening her mouth. “Thank you. For destroying his pit options. It helped me kill Ra’s.”

In her peripherals, Damian settled back, disgruntled but willing to rest his curiosity as gratitude towards Tim’s part in her freedom overrode his need for answers.

Tim stilled. “…What are friends for, right?”

‘Of course, little photographer.’ She relaxed as her, arguably first, friend and now brother popped the tray into the oven.

“Anyways, they sent me in here to see if you’re ready to meet the rest of them.”

“And they said that?” Damian scoffed, coming around the island to stand beside her as she slipped off the stool.

“Nah, they actually wanted me to subtly vibe check her, but it’s not like she wouldn’t catch me doing it.”

“Ukhti’s ‘vibes’ are perfectly fine,” Damian said crabbily, crossing his arms defensively. She tapped the back of Damian’s neck and he relaxed.

‘Thank you for the… assessment of my character and general disposition.’ She signed dryly.

“Ugh, I should’ve made the connection. Your syntax is exactly like Damian’s.” Tim joked, dodging the punch Damian aimed at his nonexistent spleen.

The reincarnation huffed. ‘I spoke perhaps three words to you.’

“And how many people use disposition on a regular basis?”

“I do, Drake!”

“I know, Damian. That was the point, you little walking thesaurus.”

——

They left Alfred in the kitchen, the man all but shooing them away so he could get working on lunch, and made their way to a sitting room. The floor was covered in a plush blue carpet, a fact that made itself vividly present to the reincarnation when she placed her foot on it, the fabric brushing the back of her heels. She was too trained to allow the slip to visible, but for a microsecond, the memories of kneeling and choking clawed their way past her defenses. She made note of the trigger and moved on, compartmentalizing that fact for later.

“It’s you,” Nightwing breathed out, tensing. The others behind him freeze, even more alert than their regular state. Bruce whipped his head towards him, sharp and searching.

“Nightwing.” She greeted. She felt a kinship with this vigilante turned brother. She watched him soar and fall alongside the little photographer. She watched him grow new wings and watched them get tainted with blood and fear and grim hope. She lived vicariously through him, he who flew when she was chained. In some ways, she had ended up watching his back for a long time, both in yearning for the ease he was allowed at her father’s side and to protect the vulnerable back that knew not of its openness. Bruce inhaled deeply at her voice.

Dick stepped forward and pulled her into a hug. She does not disembowel him for it. Instead, she allowed the giant octopus hug her new oldest little brother gave her. There was no aggression in his countenance. Only relief and gratitude.

“You know Dick?” The little, ah, no, she doesn’t want to sound like Ra’s, Tim asked. Dick tensed, clearly unwilling to speak about it. She stepped in.

“I met him once. Eliminated a spider for him on a rooftop. I did not think he would remember.”

“Is that why you were so adamant on knowing who ukhti was?” Damian demanded, scowling. She immediately freed an arm and wrapped it around his shoulders. Damian ducked away with a rather petulant scowl. "Not because of my safety but because she crushed an arachnid for you?"

Dick nodded at him before looking up at her. “I really hated that spider. It was super scary. Thank you for getting rid of it.”

In lieu of an answer, she gently hugged him back.

“I get the feeling.” She said solemnly, voice coming out soft and borne of an implicit understanding. ‘Talk later,’ she signed to him.

“I was not aware you were afraid of spiders, ukht,” Damian muttered. “Though, Richard, I would believe.”

“Hey!”

Dick detached himself and pasted on a mostly genuine smile. “Oh! You should meet the others!”

He turned to the rest of Bruce Wayne’s wards and children to cheerfully point them out.

“This is Duke! He’s Alfred’s favorite grandkid, because he hasn’t burnt down the kitchen yet and reports when he’s injured.”

“Hey. Nice to meet you.” Duke Thomas raised a hand, smiling. “The bar was literally on the floor with you people. ‘Sides, Jason did just fine.”

The reincarnate nodded. Yes, she knew of him, though her memories were hazy. It had been over two decades, after all.

Dick steamrolled onwards. “This is Stephanie-”

“But you can call me Steph!” Stephanie Brown interjected, bouncing in her seat. Despite her bubbly demeanor, her gaze was sharp. Seeing. She liked that sharpness. It was tempered by the same rough and tumble kindness she’d seen in Grave- ah, Jason.

Spoiler, her memories reminded her. It was a soothing distraction from the anxious memories of the league. She found herself collecting little hints and information about this family. Her family, even if it were tentatively so. She caught Bruce staring at them intently, visibly anxious about this meeting.

‘A pleasure to meet you.’

“So… what do we call you?” Steph tilted her head. Hm. A tell Ra’s would have beaten out of her, had Stephanie had the misfortune of being in his presence for more than a day.

“Al Ghul will be adequate.” Damian cut in. The glance he threw her promised a discussion upon the topic of her name. Later, it promised.

“Wow. That’s kind of impersonal though.”

“Steph!”

“What?! I’m not wrong.”

“Anyways!” Dick loudly said over the two bickering kids. “That’s actually it for now.”

“The rest aren’t here as of this moment, but they’ll be around for dinner.”

A white lie. She studied Bruce for a moment before acquiescing. He meant no harm. Despite his capability to inflict harm, his willingness to do so, she could not read a single instance of ill will in him. Not, at least, towards her. She allowed the lie to slide.

‘I wish to see the grounds.’ She put a hand on Damian’s shoulder. He knew what it meant for her to retreat to the wilderness. Nature, where most things were free and where one does not often find Ra’s after he’d had a taste for luxury.

“We will go to the gardens. Ukhti wishes to explore.” Despite the rather curt way he pronounced it, Damian had stepped closer to her side in a gesture of concern. The pit inside of her stomach eased.

“Sounds good! Let’s go!” Steph bounced out of her seat.

“We could tell you stories,” Tim offered from behind her.

“Yeah, like that one time Dick face planted onto one of Poison Ivy’s flower beds because he was distracted by an ice cream truck.” Duke grinned, eyes crinkling.

“Hey! That ice cream truck was full of Scarecrow thugs!”

“And they weren’t worth an Ivy-lecture. I’m surprised she didn’t skin you and make a pot out of your bones, Dick.” Tim yawned.

“Ooo, we should tell her about the time I hit you in the face with a brick!”

“Literally what more is there to that story, Steph?” Tim grumbled.

“I would like to hear this tale,” Damian said, beginning to tug his ukht towards the garden. The rest of the group followed.

“Actually, why don’t we tell her about the time you tried getting Batcow to the barn and he just sat down? Didn’t you bargain with her for an hour, Damian?”

“Tt!”

Duke leaned back and took in the chaos he unfolded with a twinkling grin and Bruce’s sigh bolstering him. And if their newest and oldest addition to the family relaxed in his chaos, well, that was between him and her.

——

Cassandra found her in the gardens, the both of them weaving in between the foliage like light footed cats. Her contingent of Bats were behind them, watching the two former assassins approach each other.

Cassandra had frozen, mirroring the reincarnator’s stillness.

“Ukhti.” The word was torn out of Cass’ throat, filled with tears and relief.

“Cassandra,” she called, fond and kind and loving. Damian’s eyes darted between his sisters. They knew each other. How? She called his ukht, ukhti. A title he had assumed only he could use.

Cassandra scrambled and launched herself at her, silent sobs shaking her frame.

“Hello, Cass,” she caught the flying vigilante, crushing her first little sister into a tight hug. “Freedom suits you, habibti.”

Cass trembles in her arms, hands clutching at the fabric on her shoulder blades like Damian’s. Her eyes softened, and she rested her chin on Cass’s head.

“You know Cassandra too, ukhti?”

She nodded.

“Ukhti named me.” Cass said, voice wobbly. ‘Cass. Cassandra.’ Cass did her name sign. The one she had taught the slip of a girl back when Cass was stuck in a senseless prison and she was only free in terms of movement.

‘First word too.’ She smiled, proud of Cass and how far she’s come. Cassandra reads the pride in her language, the safety and kindness that she’d never forgotten even after traversing the world for years before arriving home, and she burrowed deeper into the hug.

“Oh. I see.”

“Two ukhts.” She smiled at Damian.

Cass shook her head, but before Damian could settle into his hurt at her supposed rejection, Cass explained her confusion. “Ukhti is your name? I’m Cass.”

“Ukhti means older sister.” Damian informed her.

Cass blinked and looked back at the reincarnation. Her shoulders relaxed and drew back, eyes softening and body loosened from its confusion. She smiled, bright as the sun, and deftly clambered around to perch on her older sister’s back.

“Two.” She declared. And truly, the reincarnation was weak to her younger siblings because that was that. Cass declared it so, and it shall be so. Damian grumbled but seemed like they agreed.

“How did you two meet?” Bruce piped up, intent and surprisingly considerate.

“Saved me,” Cass sighed, resting her chin on her ukht’s head. ‘From father and the league. Taught me to speak, a little. My name. Cass. Taught me..’ Cass paused. “Taught me I am not a weapon.”

The former assassin carrying Cass on a piggy back ride hummed in agreement.

“Oh.” The rest of the family glanced at each other. Dick had his shiny teary eyes on, the ones he got when Jason initiated a hang out.

“Not a weapon,” Cass repeated, pressing firmly on her ukht’s head.

A less sure hum. Cass scowled.

“No. Bad,” Cass scolded. “Not a weapon.”

An acquiescing hum, full of fondness and exasperation.

Cassandra Cain will take that answer. For now.

“You named Cass?” Duke asked. Bruce looked at them with gentle eyes.

“After a heroine I knew.” She replied, shifting. Cass hugged her tighter, intently listening. “She was strong. Lethal if need be. But… kind. She had an inherently kind heart. Full of love. Like Cass.”

“Oh, that’s really.. that’s really sweet.”

Cass hugged her ukht closer, touched. She had never known why she had been given the name, but finding out that it was after a heroine her sister looked up to made the day that much brighter. Hopeful. Honored.

“You have not told me this story,” Damian said.

‘I will. One day.’

——

Jason found her at the lunch table. Along with the rest of the brood. Except for, jarringly, an alien named Jarro.

“He’s our alien brother!” Duke said. He smiled, and it was a smile of unassuming harmlessness. A well crafted mask that she knew better than to be fooled by.

She offered three long blinks that had Cassandra, stuck like a limpet on the reincarnator’s back, muffling a laugh.

“Telling truth,” Cass whispered, sentences punctuated by giggles.

She hummed, shifting to more securely carry Cass on her back. Damian sighed and dutifully carried Cassandra’s pack. She smiled at her little brother, who straightened. Adorable. All of her siblings were adorable. She would kill for them. Ah, right. They frown upon murder here. So had she, once. Before Ra’s broke that part of her heart and forced her hands to commit evils that grew gnarled vines through her very soul.

“Oh.” She blinked.

“Hm?”

“Killing is… a choice.” The conversations around them fell silent. Cass’ arms tightened around her shoulders.

“We don’t have to do it, anymore,” Damian agreed. Yes, he understood what it was like, to be raised to kill and suddenly having the option not to.

“Did you not want to kill, before?” Bruce asked, suddenly a bit closer. Her mind was slipping, she realized. It felt… safe, to slip.

‘If I did not,’ she admitted, like throwing stones off of a lock-laden bridge. ‘Damian would bear the consequences.’

She sounded… young. Afraid. Two things she had always been and were never allowed to be.

Bruce Wayne looked at her like his heart was breaking, like he wished he could shoulder her pain on top of the weight of the world he willingly carried since his parents died. This, she is reminded, was why she swore Damian to secrecy regarding her existence. She wondered if he had ever taken the burden of more grief than he could bear.

‘And I could not say no, regardless,” she told them, absent and tired.

She wondered if she would be the one to break him, should she allow him a glimpse of the scars on her back.

“I could have taken it.” Damian grabbed her arm, clutching at her sleeve once more.

“No,” she whispered, haunted. ‘Not while I drew breath, habibi.’

“You don’t have to kill here. We’re all very good with no murder.” Tim reminded her firmly.

“Unless it’s the Joker.” Steph chimed in, bubbly smile gentled into something kinder.

“Unless it’s him.” Duke agreed. His eyes were more serious now.

“No,” Bruce replied, tired. Heavier, in a way that made sour tang of guilt scratch the back of her tongue. She hadn’t meant to give him the weight of knowledge, but she had inadvertently done so with the things she had and hadn’t said. He wasn’t the world’s- she glanced at Tim, who quirked a smile at her- second best detective for no reason.

“Yes, but you’re not ready for that conversation.” Dick snapped, lightheartedly.

Ah. That’s what was off.

They’re kind. They choose to be and they inherently are kind.

It showed. And she wasn’t used to that.

“Lunch.” Cassandra reminded them. She was a solid, grounding presence at the reincarnator’s back.

“Oh, Jason said he’s on the way.” Duke commented, nodding when she quickly did a subtle thank you sign.

“Why does he text you and not me?” Dick whined.

“Wow, man. I don’t know. Maybe it’s because of the emoji wall you send?”

“They’re nice! How else are you supposed to know what I’m feeling, right, Cass?”

Cass nodded and gave a thumbs up from her place on ukhti’s back.

“See?!”

“I love you Cass, but you also use a wall of understandable emojis. Dick just spams them.” Steph retorted.

The reincarnator turned to Damian, a silent question in her eyes. He sighed. “Yes, the imbeciles argue all of the time.”

She nodded and the group made their way to the green house for lunch, bickering all the while.

When they get there, Jason Todd, along with Alfred Pennyworth were already at the table.

“Grave.” She greeted as Cass slipped off her back.

“Ain’t no fucking way, Trainer?” Jason leapt to his feet. It was odd, seeing him in casual clothes. Ra’s had kept him in armor most of the time.

“You know each other?”

“At this point, who doesn’t ukht know would be an easier question.” Damian grumbled. She tapped him on the head twice, a light reprimand.

‘Grave was part of your guard,’ she told him. ‘He protected you well.’

“You’re the demon brat’s older sister? That makes so much fucking sense.”

She felt her eyes go cold, lifting to stare at Grave’s rapidly paling face. He visibly backtracks.

“Uh- I mean, you’re Damian’s older sister?”

She regarded him for a beat longer before blinking, ice melting away at the change. The nickname chafed at her neck, too close from a fate she gave everything to save Damian from.

Her head dipped into a small nod.

“Wild.” Jason sat back down. “So, uh, how are you handling the pit?”

‘I am not.’ She informed him, settling down in her seat. Damian claimed the spot next to her and Cass quickly took the other, much to Bruce’s chagrin. Tim plopped down to the seat next to Cass, eyes zeroing onto the chamomile tea Alfred had set out for him.

Duke smiled at Bruce before sitting next to Jason, Steph skipping over and sitting next Dick and Jason at the same time.

“Ukhti managed to get rid of the side effects,” Damian informed the table at large.

Her little bat had the worst ability to make sure attention focused on her, the reincarnation groused. She sighed.

“How?” Clearly, Grave had forgotten how much she beat him into the sparring mat because he leaned forward to glare at her. Well, she hadn’t wanted him too afraid of her.

‘Magic.’

His face fell at the assumed non answer, but Damian’s nod had the entire table once more expectant.

She sighed and began weaving her magic.

——

She stalked through the shadows of the manor, at ease. Bruce and the others had left on patrol, hours ago. She was clad in her sleeping clothes, one of her less favored clothes. Her hands would get dirty again tonight but she was long past the point of lingering on those regrets.

“Miss al-Ghul,” Alfred turned as she stepped towards him, having made sure she made adequate noise as a forewarning. “Having a good night?”

She tilted her head, eyes inquisitively peering at the spotless china display behind the butler.

“Ah, you must be curious about the fine ceramics we have currently displayed,” Alfred smiled. “Would you be so kind as to indulge an old butler on this topic?”

She had an idea about the kind of gift Alfred Pennyworth would appreciate.

——

“Uh, whatcha got there?”

She blinked, pulling bloodied hands away from her clothes where she had been inspecting them. The assassin that caused the damage on her clothes laid beneath her feet, still and lifeless. She blinked again.

Nightwing, Dick, stood in front of her, freshly showered from his patrol.

Some form of long forgotten instinct rose from the dry rotted fabric of her faded memories had her responding, ‘A smoothie.’

“…That’s… not a smoothie,” Dick said as he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. “I’m pretty sure that’s an assassin?”

She shrugged. “He was after Damian. To force him into being the Demon’s head.” She paused. ‘I am tying up loose ends.’

Dick considered her. And the he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Right, okay. I’ll help you get rid of the evidence.”

She waved him off, clicking her fingers and looking over the room with critical eyes as the body and traces of the fight disappeared.

“Woah, handy.”

‘Very,’ she agreed. ‘Did you need something?’

He made a face. “That’s weird. It’s usually me asking that,” he muttered. “Uh, yeah. I just… wanted to thank you again. And uh, let you know that the others don’t know so if you could not tell them, that would be great?”

With a huff, she reached over and up to gently ruffle his hair. ‘Of course. Damian did not know either.’

“Right,” he breathed. “You get it.”

She gave him a knowing look. “Been avoiding thinking about it?”

He swallowed. “Yeah.”

She looked at him, silent. Offering a space to listen, and a quiet promise to offer no judgement.

“I don’t- it- I could have stopped her,” he told her, guilt and shame and the lingering whispering voice Catalina burrowing into his ears and heart.

And when he started, it seemed to him like he couldn’t stop. Dick told her of the things he felt as she got on top of him, of how numb and far away things were. How, if it rained, he couldn’t be in the quiet because it made him relive it.

“But… but you stopped her so I shouldn’t even be like this!”

‘It wasn’t your fault.’ She told him, the first thing she’s said since he’s started talking. ‘The only one at fault was her. You trusted her to stop. She did not. Her crimes were not yours to bear.’

She paused, taking in the refusal she could read on his face. “If someone beats another person, would you blame the person who was beaten?”

“No!”

‘Then you are kind. But you are so kind to others, why not yourself?’

Dick fell silent.

“I killed Ra’s,” she reminded him. “He allowed many others to partake in my body without my agreement.”

She leaned towards him, the admittance of something she had not even told Damian ringing painfully in her heart but made all the easier to say by the fact that one of her little brothers (the free, first Robin, the son who stood by Bruce’s side when she could not) needed her. “He himself partook in me. And yet,” she added, when Dick looked up. ‘It is difficult to forget. I am still afraid when I step onto the carpet on the sitting room.’

“The carpet? The rug? The fluffy one?” He asked, confused.

“It is like… your rain and silence,” she crossed her arms. ‘That and the sound of rustling silk reminds me of his chambers.’

“Oh.”

‘I killed him and it will not go away. Would you blame me for that?’

“No, that’s how healing is- oh.”

“Be kind, to yourself.”

His chin trembled. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Ukhti.”

“Ukhti,” he parroted, aiming a watery and small smile her way.

She held out her arms and, with Dick’s tacit understanding, tucked him beneath her wings like she did with Damian. “Thank you for offering to get rid of the body, habibi. But I would not want you to get in trouble.”

“Eh, I’ve helped Jason deal with worse.”

‘Comforting.”

“I know, right?”

——

“Why the hell do you keep calling me Grave?” Jason asked her, grumbling as he tried to wire his new helmet after the last one got damaged.

She leaned back, basking in the sun on the new rugs. After their conversation, Dick had set fire to every fluffy rug in the house-

“What the hell, dude?!” Duke gaped as he watched Dick cheerfully toss an expensive rug into the impressive bonfire they had going on.

“Ukhti doesn’t like fluffy rugs,” Dick said with a straight face. Damian dragged another roll to the bonfire with a scowl. “Alfred Approved project, if you want to join~!”

Duke stared at him… and picked up a roll to toss into the fire.

- and bought new ones using Bruce’s credit cards.

“You got some of your memories back, in the league.” She hummed. “You liked reading. Poems.”

“What does that even have to do with Grave?”

“I remembered one. A line. Do not stand at my grave and weep. I am not there, I do not sleep…”

Jason twisted around. “Are you kidding me?”

She continued. “Do not stand at my grave and cry. I am not there. I did not die.”

“But I did die.”

She shrugged. ‘People still remembered you. Gotham and Bruce cried at your loss. I saw it.’

She straightened and smiled a small smile at him. ‘Besides. You got better.’

Jason snorted. “You too, I guess.”

She hummed an agreement, eyes slipping closed in the warm light of the sun, relief after a long second life of cowering in the shadows of a man more like a demon than he was a grandfather.

#dc #Batman #apparently oc got inducted into the dc version of ROOT from Naruto #thanks bestie I hadn’t thought of that #oc gets isekaid and proceeds to have a shit of a time #oc in a discovery channel narrator voice: a Damian in his natural habitat is a relaxed creature #reincarnation #oc in dc #me: oc gets hugs.#my sister used to give me piggy back rides and I kinda miss it #when we were young #unfortunately she is now old as dirt and her back sounds like popping bubble wrap #oc: I would murder for cass if she’d let me #oc: wow I’m feeling guilty #also oc: *is holding back tears at genuine kindness*#they have a greenhouse bc I said so #also bc that’s where they keep Ivy’s plant samples on hand #and bc Alfred likes gardening and that was Bruce’s gift to him on Father’s Day #tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon #fuck you catalina flores #if she has no haters I’m dead #tw: talk of murder #tw: implied abuse #tw: sa #the specific grief of watching someone you raised/loved grow to be like the person who almost broke you

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seleniangnosis · 3 months

Text

How are you transforming? 🌌

Pile 1 Pile 2 Pile 3

It's been a while since I made a pac reading. Personal life is keeping me busy and I had no energy for readings.

This PAC is going to focus on a transformation process that is going on at the moment, and providing some clarity about where things are headed, as well as an advice.

Deck used: Magic The Gathering Oracle deck.

Pile I

Hi there pile I and welcome to your reading ✨️🤍

The cards I got for you are: Inspiration, The Warrior, and Toxic Thoughts.

Bottom deck energy: Distraction.

You seem to be caught in a specific situation(it can be different for everyone) and try to find something to get you out of it, but in your search, you are met with obstacles, obstacles created by you. What you are trying to accomplish lacks initiative and focus. Your mind is distracted and caught in multiple scenarios.

Your negative thoughts are distracting you from what needs to be done, but now you have a hold of them. Do not let fears and stories your mind tells you keep you back from reaching your full potential.

Thank you for reading🤍✨️

Pile II

Hi there pile II and welcome to your reading ✨️

The cards I got for you are: Desire rx, Magic of The Mind and Transformation. Extra card: The unconscious.

Bottom deck energy: Resourcefulness

You seem to be stuck on not wanting to accept a change that seemed to have happened or accept that there are other ways.

At a subconscious level, your mind has already accepted this change, but consciously you are still avoiding anything related to it and trying to find excuses to remain in the same old place. This could represent a big and meaningful change that might be scary, or you aren't able to understand it properly. You possess all the knowledge to navigate through this change. Let go of limitations and embrace the new little by little.

Thank you for reading🤍✨️

Pile III

Hi there pile 3 and welcome to your reading ✨️

The cards I got for you are: Reincarnation rx, Inspiration, and Focus. Extra card: Breaking free.

Bottom deck energy: Unlocking Power.

You might have been living in a way where you found yourself repeating the past scenario over and over again. Past behaviours can keep us stuck in a rut if not addressed consciously. They might have served us well in the past but we all have to grow and overcome certain things.

You might be feeling like it's to complicated to break free. You don't know how to adapt to something new, since this past cycle is all you've known.

You need to find your focus. The challenge will not seem this scary if you break it down first. You can try to write in a journal, listen to music or watch a movie. By calming your mind, you can take this step by step, so the passing to a different life is made easier. You are more powerful than you think you are!

Thank you for reading🤍✨️

#tarotblr #pac reading #pick a pile #tarot pac #tarot reading #tarotcommunity #pick a card #pick a card reading #pick a picture

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stealingyourbones · 1 year

Note

*sorts through a box of tiny bones and rare bones*

*slides over some ancient Rat skulls and Fox canines*

6' Dark academia Danny with tattoos who does traveling seminars on Space Theories and Brief History of Known Alien Species. Also has an uncanny resemblance to Phantom.

Phantom is a 5' menace on the titans team who has vast knowledge about multidimensional shit and believed to be hundreds of years old.

Tim is convinced that their either soul brothers or that Human!Danny is a reincarnation of Phantom for their world.

Connor is just along for the ride.

Shenanigans insue.

Connor would fully just watch everything in glee. Phantom's identity is more tightly secured than ever. Throughout the years, Danny has aged and his Phantom form has remained the same as it always has. He has a bet with Tucker on how long it'll take till Robin loses his mind and interrogates him about his civilian persona. Even worse? Danny is sometimes called in for consultant for the Teen Titans and various JL teams on unknown alien artifacts, fauna, civilization, anything really that's beyond the JL members expertise. Tim is losing his mind. meanwhile, Bart who has known Phantom's identity since the day he time traveled to the 21st century is having a blast with Connor watching Tim unravel.

#and the thick plotens #dpxdc #bites u bites u bites u <3 #talking this post and shaking it VIOLENTLY

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an-idyllic-novelist · 10 months

Text

rimuru tempest with fem!tanjiro!reader headcanons

Hey guys, welcome to another collaboration with @deathmetalunicorn1, though the credit on the concept of the pairing and these headcanons go to my dear friend. I really hope you will enjoy what we have written. If you'd like to see more content like this, or an extended version of these headcanons, please let us know!

So with that being said, sit back, relax, and enjoy! :)

Although Rimuru Tempest knows his significant other and her little sister are strong, he will not stop worrying about Tanjiro!reader’s wellbeing, especially when she and Nezuko leave Tempest on a mission, and he is unable to join them for whatever reason. His anxiety will increase tenfold when his relationship with the former Demon Slayer evolved from being friends who just happened to stumble upon each other’s paths as soon as he left Veldor’s cave to being lovers.

It will be very hard for the demon lord to sleep for the first few nights when he is so used to curling up next to Tanjiro!reader and Nezuko, the latter sprawled out and almost always in her toddler form. However, when she does return, Tanjiro!reader will always bring back a souvenir from wherever she traveled to, normally a tasty treat or a cute little knick-knack she saw at a market.

[To ease his lord’s worries, Diablo will mobilize a few of the Black Numbers to keep a discreet eye on the Kamado siblings, personally delivering periodical reports on their whereabouts to Rimuru when it was an appropriate time between meetings and inspections around the capital. After all, an excellent butler must be able to anticipate his lord’s every need and alleviate his concerns so that he may continue to focus on his duties in the land. If something does happen, Diablo will act immediately and make sure Tanjiro!reader and Nezuko return to Tempest safely.]

Tanjiro!reader unwinds from her journey with a big hug from Rimuru in both his slime and human form. Rimuru would receive affection from Nezuko if she isn’t sleeping in her box in the form of bone crushing hugs or his hair being ruffled by a clawed hand. If Rimuru hadn’t eaten, she would whip a simple home-cooked meal that is either a traditional recipe from the Kamado household, or one that Mitsuri, the Love Hashira, had taught her when they were alive back in her old world.

Rimuru will definitely join in and help, even all she’ll allow him to do in the kitchen is wash the dishes.

After he had been reincarnated in this world, he took the Japanese cuisine he had eaten for granted, even the microwaveable ramen noodle cups he’d heat up in the company break room when he had to work late at the office. Back then, Misaki Satoru didn’t care much about his health so much as worried about forever remaining a virgin because he couldn’t score a date with a cute girl.

He honestly couldn’t have anything resembling his homeland’s cooking until his country was developed further, including the dwarves’ metal-working and the orcs’ infamous work ethic. He couldn’t remember how many times he had told Geld and the others to rest even when they insisted that they kept working. Now, he could share a meal and enjoy a hot bath with someone he loves very dearly.

Nezuko is, of course, welcomed to join them in the bath since she loves swimming around the large hot spring he had built in the back of his home. When she joined them, Rimuru reverted to being a slime to protect Nezuko’s innocence. If he’s alone with Tanjiro!reader, he’ll either be a slime or his human form, depending on his mood.

Speaking of which, Nezuko is the little sister everyone in Tempest adores and will be fiercely protected. Rimuru is her favorite person, but when Milim decides to stop by for a visit, she is Nezuko’s new favorite, no matter how much he bribes her with newest confections that were created or toys. But between these two….Nezuko will always pick Tanjiro!reader, if she’s an option.

Rimuru’s love language includes quality time, words of affirmation, and gift-giving. But what he enjoys the most is having afternoon tea on the porch, him sitting in her lap as a slime and munching on sticks of mitarashi dango or different flavored onigiri.

If anything happened to either Tanjiro!reader or Nezuko because an enemy nation was jealous of Tempest’s flourishing economy and thought it would be a brilliant idea to hold them hostage or try to hurt them….they had better be prepared to have another kingdom falling into ruins.

Remember what happened to Falmuth?

Taglist

@sunnyblackbird

@abelheilonwife

@nunezs-stuff

#an idyllic novelist #x reader headcanons #fem!reader #tanjiro!reader #kny x reader #that time i got reincarnated as a slime #rimuru tempest x reader #tensei shitara slime datta ken #that time i got reincarnated as a slime x reader #rimuru x reader #rimuru tempest #tensei shitara slime datta ken x reader

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iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin · 5 months

Text

airp2ds

read part one of airpods here!!!

wc: 2k reader: femme!afab (matt calls reader a "pretty girl", is called a "young lady" by their uncle-- it's meant to feel derogatory ofc, reader is wearing a skirt, reader dances at a strip club in stilettos) warnings: smut 18+; MINORS DNI!!! -- specific warnings under the cut -- less of a bonkers scenario, but some really rich and fun plot development this time; funny & angst & fluff surprisingly-- stepcest obvi and we discuss it summary: after (y/n)'s little stunt a few days ago, their whole family gathers for an anything but peaceful dinner. rivalnewstepbrother!matthew has no interest in helping you out of this awful situation. or does he? yooooooo this only took 4 months to post, but it's perfect so hope you'll forgive me!! i TOLD you i'd do it eventually. and i did. missing organ and all. ilyyy thanks for bearing with me ੈ✩‧₊˚

ੈ✩‧₊˚

warnings: 18+ explicit smut, stepcest and we don't ignore it, p-in-v penetrative sex, brief heavy petting/fingering, not entirely safe cum destination lmao, unprotected obviously (do what you want, be smart), reader is a dancer at a strip club and their family is appalled, swearing... this one made me feel again yay

you stick your fork in a potato and pop it in your mouth, chewing and swallowing as you stare at your plate. your entire extended family converses around you at the long, glass dining table, celebrating your new stepdad’s birthday with your mom’s locally famous honey ham and roasted potatoes.

everyone’s having a goodman ball.

everyone except... you.

after suffering such a devastating defeat a couple nights ago, you’d been avoiding matthew like the plague. tail between your legs, you’d stood up from your stepbrother’s bed after he left you high and dry— sulking all the way back to your room.

you’d been avoiding matthew so diligently since then that this dinner was the first time you’d seen him since his fingers were inside you. he’s eating a little too well and talking to all of your family members, oozing respect and likability.

you’ve never hated anyone more.

“now matthew,” you grandmother starts, reaching out her hand to him, “please tell us more about what you’ve been doing abroad. it all sounds so important from what your father’s mentioned!”

matthew smiles humbly. “i’ve been pursuing a career in performance in seoul! it’s really not all that important in the scheme of things, but it’s definitely been one of the most rewarding experiences of my life.”

“don’t be too humble, matthew,” your stepdad calls from the head of the table. “he works tirelessly day and night to accomplish his goal! he’s such a great kid.”

“we’re so very proud. i never imagined having a child with such passion and drive!” your mom chimes in obliviously. her eyes widen when she realizes what she said and she clears her throat awkwardly. “i mean, a son, that is.”

you close your eyes, stabbing a roasted red potato and letting your fork clatter onto the fine china plate.

“(y/n), how are you doing?” your uncle asks quickly. “have you found a better job yet?”

“i’m doing fine, thank you,” you answer through gritted teeth. “and i like my job. i’m not interested in finding one that society would categorize as better at this time.”

“but a young lady like you shouldn’t be—.”

“but what i am interested in finding a better version of,” you interrupt, picking up your glass of wine and downing the remaining contents, “is a family. one that doesn’t judge me or compare me to my new stepbrother— who, if i’m to judge from how you all indulge him, is jesus christ reincarnated! how divinely exciting!”

“(y/n),” your mother scolds, grabbing the empty wine glass out of your hand. “don’t be so cruel to your brother.”

“he’s not my brother,” you assert, snatching the wine glass back. in a flash, it slips from your fingers and shatters onto the dining room floor.

“you always do this,” your mother sighs, shaking her head in disappointment. she can’t even look at you. "you get so jealous when anyone is doing better than you are. i’m just so tired of your selfish immaturity.”

“perhaps it's time for you to get your own apartment and stop freeloading off of us,” your stepfather says with a sigh. “then you’ll find the motivation to stop working at that indecent bar and start making a proper living.”

your stomach flips at the threat. “i grew up in this house. you moved in a year ago after the mortgage was already paid off. doesn’t that make you as much of a fucking freeloader as i am?”

“(y/n), stop this right now,” your mom tries again to quiet you.

“you talk like that and you think you could ever be as well-liked as my son? the—”

“dad,” matthew says, trying to interrupt the rant that’s already begun. he should know by now it’s too late.

“—reason that no one here ever boasts about your accomplishments is because you have none. the reason no one ever praises how respectable you are is because it would be a lie. you—”

“dad,” matthew says again, louder this time but it still doesn’t reach the ears of the valentino-suited man turning red in the face.

“—are an ungrateful brat of an adult child that doesn’t even have enough vision for their life to stop working at a strip club.”

everyone at the dinner table gasps. so the truth has been set free: ‘bar’ had been the code word your ashamed mother and stepfather had been using in place of ‘strip club’ for the past year.

guess their resentment had finally outweighed their shame.

your gaze travels down the table, landing on matthew. he’s staring at his lap awkwardly.

“if you’ll excuse me,” you say, standing up from your chair and giving a big, facetious curtsy. “the whore will leave the table now.”

——

you slam your bedroom door behind you, storming over to your bed and picking up your favorite plushy— the one your dad had bought you for your high school graduation before he... it’s a baby fox, pink blush across his smiling face. usually the only aggression you feel towards him is that of cuteness, but suddenly you find yourself filled with rage.

how had you not noticed before just how much barnaby foxworth iii looks like your stupid fucking stepbrother!?

you turn around, hurling baby foxworth across your room with a scream. your eyes widen as the plushy lands in the hands of his human twin. you hadn’t heard him come in over the blood rushing in your ears.

matthew looks at the plushy, brow furrowing as he studies it. “i feel like i’ve seen this face somewhere before.”

“get the fuck out of my room,” you growl, walking over to him and grabbing baby foxworth. you frown as matthew holds onto him, not letting you pry your own plushy from his hands. “let go of him! what the fuck is your problem!?”

“i distinctly remember you stealing something from me a couple days ago and making it quite the fucking challenge to get it back,” matthew argues, pulling a little harder. “besides, how much can you really want something that you just threw across the room?”

you continue a tug-o-war for your beloved baby fox until you hear a sudden ripping noise. matthew lets go instantly, fear splayed across his face. you take baby foxworth in your arms, finding the fabric tear at the base of his little neck.

“i’m so sorry,” he apologizes quickly. “i really didn’t meant to—.”

“you’re sorry?” you repeat, jaw clenching as you step towards him. “sorry for what? sorry that you mamed barnaby foxworth iii? sorry that you barged into my room without knocking? sorry that i’ve made yet another mess out of a family celebration?”

“(y/n)…”

“sorry that all you do while they ridicule me is sit there and stare at your plate? sorry that your dad married my mom?”

“wait, (y/n)—…”

“sorry that i work at a strip club? sorry for what we did the other day?”

“i—…,” he stutters hopelessly. “i—.”

suddenly, your lips are on matthew’s— his body tensing at the unexpected action. you pull back, eyes meeting his.

they’re wide, shocked, confused. his hand reaches towards your face quickly and you think for a moment he’s going to slap you with it, but instead, he cups your jaw.

holding you still, he brings his lips back down to touch yours again. it’s a slow, languid kiss that, in and of itself, feels like an apology. a genuine one.

it’s overwhelming. it challenges everything you thought you knew about this stranger you were now forced to call family.

you step back, clutching baby foxworth tighter to your chest.

“they were so impressed when you told them you’re a dancer,” you whisper, tears beginning to spill over. “why were they so disgusted when i told them i am, too?”

his face falls as he thinks about your words. “i think you know why.”

you press your lips together, a sardonic huff of a laugh escaping you. did you really think you’d get sympathy from him?

“but it’s not fair,” matthew continues. “it’s not fair that they treat you that way.”

you’re afraid to look up at him, eyes remaining fixed on the tear at your plushy’s neck. “i didn’t even think you’d noticed.”

“i’ll admit, i didn’t see it at first. it’s not like i’m here that often,” he replies with a sigh. “and i guess i did think you were the problem. and i do still think you’re part of the problem, don’t get me wrong.”

you roll your eyes, looking down at the floor.

“but maybe you’ve forgotten that no one knows what my dad can be like more than i do,” matthew says, wrapping his hand gently around your upperarm. “i thought maybe he’d finally changed for the better after marrying your mom, but i know now that’s far from the truth. and i can try my best to help you from now on, if you’ll let me.”

“thanks,” you say quietly as your eyes meet his. he smiles softly at you before you promptly brush his hand off your arm. “but i still don’t like you.”

your hostility just widens his smile. “i thought you’d say that.”

you turn, walking back to your bed and placing baby foxworth by your pillows. you think about what your family must still be saying about you around the dinner table. your thoughts are halted, however, when a warm, muscular chest is soon pressed against your back.

“i was just wondering,” he says softly against your ear, arm snaking around your waist. “there has to be something about me that you like, right? i mean, you're the one who wanted my face in your cunt. and don't think i haven't heard you call me perfect a few times now.”

“i meant it as an insult,” you breathe as a hand reaches underneath your skirt— fingers beginning to pad delicate circles over your panties.

“was screaming my name while cumming all over my fingers also supposed to be taken as an insult?” he asks, knee against the back of yours until you tumble gently onto your bed— his arms catching you and flipping you on your back to face him. “you must’ve really been trying to offend me.”

matthew shimmies your skirt and panties down your legs and you find yourself assisting to kick it off with your foot onto the floor. he laughs much too smugly as he unzips his slacks and discards them onto the hardwood. you hover your foot over his groin, brow raising in a threat.

“okay, okay,” he admits in defeat. as a grin stretches across your lips, he bites at your thighs hungrily and sighs. “god, i wish i wasn’t your brother.”

“matt!” you screech in horror and he takes the opportunity to sink himself inside you. you gasp at the sudden stretch, a protest turning to a whimper as he smirks at you. “matt...”

“no need to worry, baby,” he coos, tip of his cock reaching your backmost wall. “it’s pretty obvious there’s a divorce on the way. my dad’s already let it slip to me about how he secretly blew all the money in their joint savings on a third yacht.”

“my mom’s been fucking her tennis instructor for two months,” you reply, trying to hold yourself together as matthew increases his pace. “and her golf instructor. and her pilates instructor. and her business lawyer. and her—.”

matthew’s lips meet yours. “you’re so fucking hot.”

you run your hand up his chest, tugging at his shirt until he pulls it off over his head. it’s a shame to admit it, but... he is perfect.

“but if our parents get divorced, we’ll never see each other,” you say with a pout. you shake your head quickly, realizing what you just said. “which i’m totally fine with. but you’d probably be really upset.”

a particularly rough thrust sends you reeling— crying out in pleasure and totally blowing your act.

“yeah, it’d be really hard for me,” matthew patronizes, mimicking your pout. “g’nna cum for me, pretty girl? hm?”

“fuck,” you whine, nearly at your peak. you honestly had no idea how good at dancing matthew was, but if he was half as good at dancing as he was at fucking, then even goddamn dick van dyke would be proud. your walls flutter around him, a chorus of moans as he pushes you over the edge.

“oh my god,” matthew rasps as you reach your climax, his thrusts growing more desperate and sporadic. “pussy’s so fucking perfect, baby. made me want you so bad, i—.”

he pulls out quickly, a few pumps before painting your cunt with his cum as he moans under his breath. he stares at the sight for a few moments before his head tilts thoughtfully and a smirk upturns a corner of his lips.

“something to share with the class?” you ask, one eyebrow piquing.

he laughs, shrugging at your prodding. “i was just thinking about how i definitely wouldn’t be the golden child anymore if anyone knew about this.”

“i dunno. i think somehow you’d still come out unscathed,” you say, shaking your head. “i must’ve tempted you. coerced you. blackmailed you.”

he smiles at you sadly. “listen, i know that... i know things must suck for you right now and—... i mean it when i say i’m gonna try my best to fix—.”

“matthew!”

you both freeze as the sound of your stepfather’s voice rings from downstairs. matthew clears his throat, calling back, “yeah?”

“come downstairs! aunt bethany wants to talk to you about visiting seoul.”

“okay!” matthew answers. he rolls his eyes. “i hate your aunt bethany.”

“you and me both, kid,” you reply, sitting up on your hands as matthew hurriedly gets dressed. “have fun.”

“come with me,” he requests, picking up your skirt from off the floor and holding it out to you.

you consider it, but shake your head. “tell me if you hear any good gossip about me. i have to get ready for my shift anyway.”

“really? you’re gonna go strip after this?” matthew asks, lips parted in surprise.

“dance,” you correct. “i’m gonna go dance.”

he smiles. “when do you get back?”

“around one,” you answer, standing up and walking over to your vanity. “why?”

“my flight’s at midnight,” he says, biting his lip. your mascara clatters to the table as a tiny, annoying ball of disappointment forms in your chest. “so i guess i’ll catch you another time.”

you don’t say anything— just continue doing your makeup as you try to ignore that growing ball.

“okay then,” matthew says finally, opening your door. “bye, (y/n).”

“my mom’s birthday is next month.”

the words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them. you don’t regret it.

“she likes you more than me, so,” you continue with as much nonchalance as you can feign. “she’d probably want to see you.”

matthew catches your eye through your mirror. he just smiles.

~ EPILOGUE ~

you clamber through your bedroom door in the dark, stilettos still on as you stumble into bed and flop onto it in exhaustion. you clap your hands— bedside light turning on as you reach for baby foxworth. you cradle him under your chin, squeezing him tight. suddenly, you remember the tear in his neck from when matthew had ripped him after dinner.

you feel around for the hole, but are surprised when you find a crinkly, purple sticky note instead. on it, is written:

told you i’m gonna try to fix everything. — your favorite brother ;)

“disgusting,” you mutter under your breath, turning your attention back to baby foxworth’s neck hole. except...

there is no hole.

okay, matty, you think with a smile. let’s see what you’ve got.

198 notes · View notes

fl3shm4id3n · 1 year

Text

ₜₕₑ ₗₒᵥₑᵣₛ

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐰𝐧. 𝐀𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝, 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫. 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐰𝐧 𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: (ᴘᴀꜱᴛ) ᴀꜱᴛᴀʀɪᴏɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ! ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴀꜱᴛᴀʀɪᴏɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ! ᴛᴀᴠ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Tw: Star-crossed lovers concept, Cazador, vampirism, medieval sexism, abuse of any kind, manipulation , blood, torture, torment, violence, suicide attempt/mentioned, mentions of intimacy, death, murder, stake to the heart, angst, reincarnation. Not edited, pictures ain't mine, I got them off Pinterest.

Masterlist

Your whole life changed when your parents had sent you off to marry some Lord known as Cazador. He had been in search for a concubine. It was pretty normal for noble men to have a concubine. He could have as many as he could afford. Your parents were thrilled by the idea of you, their only daughter being with a powerful Lord. As much as you didn't to, you had to. It was your duty as their child to follow their orders. Whatever they say, goes. It was settled then, you were going to become Lord Cazador's concubine for as long as he lives. That day that you left your home, was the same day you never saw your parents again. His castle was strange, his servants were strange. They were like puppets that only followed their master's word.

The first couple months weren't so bad. Cazador was respectful, and he had given you time to adjust to your new life. He had began to spoil you, giving you things that you'd never thought you've ever see in your eyes. From the finest tailored dresses, to jewelry, makeup, books, and so on. You were basically given the life that many girls would dream off. Despite all that, it still felt strange, as if something was wrong, but you didn't put to much mind into it. You passed it as if you were home sick. As much as you tried to ignore it, the worry got bigger, as if it was a weight on your shoulders getting much heavier and heavier throughout the weeks. One night Cazador had decided to make you his. You felt nervous since you've never been with a man in your life. But that night, would be the one you'd remember for the rest of your immortal life.

Its already been years, those years became centuries. You were still Cazador's concubine. Everyday you'd wake up and just have the though of what Cazador would have planned that night. It was a routine that just kept on going. You'd wake up, and have the maid spawns come dress you. You no longer had a choice on what you could wear. It was all Cazador, he'd pick everything about your look for the night, from dresses, shoes, makeup art, hair style, jewelry and hair. Everything was either a blood red or black. His favorite colors. If you refused to wear what he'd pick out for you, then you'd wear nothing. You'd remain bare until you've learn to appreciate what he does for you. That was a way to manipulate you, he made you think that he did so much for you and the least you could do is learn to be more appreciative of what he has given you.

Its been a while since you've seen your reflection. You've almost forgot how you'd look like. Sometimes you'd spend hours and hours looking in the mirror, trying to form on how you'd look like before, but nothing. You'd just see the furniture in your room along with other things in the room. As some kind of gift, Cazador had commissioned a painting of you, he's often tell how generous he was and how he didn't have to do this. You were dressed like the night that you had been turned into a vampire spawn. Sitting still as the artist painted your every detail. You'd look at that picture as if it was the only thing keeping you alive. That painting made you remember on how your face might have looked like. But there was one thing that you didn't like, and that was the scar on your left side of your neck. It was a scar, caused by Cazador's bite of that night. It may have been a small detail, but it was noticeable. It was also some kind of reminder of what he had done to you. Everything you'd see that small bit of the painting, you'd feel a sharp pain on your neck, right on your now scarred side. Sometimes you wish you could cover it, but due to the dresses you wore, you weren't able to.

Whenever you'd disagree with Cazador on something, he'd threated to burn the picture and to never get you a new one. You'd often cry and beg on your knees for him not to do it, also to forgive you for speaking out of term. He seemed to love making you cry, he'd watch how the makeup would roll down your cheeks, messing it up and how you were on your knees with your head on the floor, begging or how'd you'd hug his knees and cry in desperation. It was some kind of sickening pleasure of his. He also love to torment you to the point that you have a breakdown. It would happen constantly, you'd never catch a break.

Not only that, but you were force to learn how to play instruments. As a way to entertain yourself and Cazador. When it came to string instruments, he'd have you play for hours and hours until your hands sore. If you'd mess up a note, you were force to restart and play the instrument until the tips of your fingers bled, even your nails would break and dig into your already cut and bleeding skin. When you were done, your hands would be shaking and raw, with blood running down your hands and fingers. You also liked to embroid, or at least he liked how you'd embroid. If he didn't like the work, he'd have you start all over again, or he'd make you sew until you hands were weak. He just loved seen you in pain. He loved watching you tear up as you sewed and played instruments, in pain. As a way to 'heal' you, Cazador would lick and bite at your bleeding fingers, to add to the pain.

Some nights you wished you could just walked into the sun, but that was impossible. Most of the night you'd be in your room. For hours, only coming out when Cazador would want you to, he'd basically keep you locked in. You barely spook to the spawns at times. Sometimes you'd write down notes and slide them under the door for the spawns to see. This was a form of punishment, even though you didn't do anything to get punished. Not just that but the only way for you to have blood was by begging for him to allow you to feed, he'd leave you starving for days until you were fed up and needed a doze of blood. But he'd have you drink the blood from his mouth, as much as you didn't want to, you did. You had the choice to just stop feeding and either go insane and violent. But you knew he wasn't going to allow you to do that. If you attempted to, it'd become worse.

One night things were different, Cazador had been gone for a while. You assumed he was probably looking for another mortal to fall for his trap and make him another spawn. That night you were in your room again, looking at the empty mirror as if you were trying to find yourself again, but you knew that was useless. Then Cazador bursted in the room. Causing you to flinch an grip onto your clasped hands much harder, digging your nails into your skin, fearing that he might due something to you, again. Then he introduced you to his new spawn. A man. He was in his late thirties, with brown hair, pale complexation, green eyes and his clothes were dirty, as if he was covered in dirt. You noticed that his right side of his neck had wound, a bite. That was already scaring. The other spawns didn't have those markings. Except for you and now him. You learned that his name was Astarion.

Once you were introduced, he made his new spawn get on his knees and kiss the toe of your shoe. This was something he'd have his spawns do, just to see them on their knees, humiliating themselves, by kissing the toes of your shoes. You'd often say that you were his one and only high raking 'Spawn Concubine'. As much as you didn't want him to go through that humiliation, he did so anyways. He already seemed scared of Cazador and what he'd do if he didn't do what he wanted. As he began to get up from his knees, you and him locked eyes. You could see the fear in each other's eyes, as if it was reflecting. You were both scared of him. And he knew it. Not only that, but he loved to see the fear that you both had.

That same night in your room, you could hear the screaming happening in the cellar and the smell of blood. You could hear how Cazador was already 'branding' his knew spawn, just like the others. You didn't get branded like they did, he'd explained to you that you're above the spawns and there for you shouldn't be branded, besides. He had already branded you. It was a reminder on your neck. For the attire night you could hear the screams echoing through the castle, as much as you wanted to not hear it, you weren't able to muffle out the noises. You felt horrible not being able to stop Cazador's torture. Last time you attempted to, was bad.

Then Cazador had come up with a great idea, his new pet, would now be in charge of going out and bringing back a prey for him and you feed on. He believed that Astarion had the perfect face to lure in any person he got his eyes on. Astarion tried to refuse and disobey, as a punishment, he locked him up in a cellar for over a whole year. With no light what so ever. You had tried and asking Cazador to please let him out, but he refused to listen. You were his concubine, not his wife. He never made you his wife, because he knew that if he did, he'd have to treat you as his equal. So he never married you, he only kept you as his concubine, as his possession for his pleasures. Finally, Astarion had been out of the cell, except his appearance changed. His once brown hair was now white and his once green eyes were now a blood red. That whole year in the cellar had changed him. Since then on, he began to obey his master.

So he began to bring back a prey, either a man or a woman. Cazador would be pleased with this, and would 'reward' him by giving him a rat to feed of. If Astarion refused to eat the rat, then he'd be killed by the other brainless spawns. You and Cazador would feed from the victim, together. He'd go for the neck and you'd go for the wrists, you were never allowed to go for the neck, if you did. Then you'd be punished severely. He'd just add that you should be greatful that you're allowed to feed. Some victims he'd keep as his spawns and others he'd kill just for his fun. This went on for a couple of years.

During those years, you had actually grown close to Astarion. You knew he only did what he did for survival, like you. You normally wouldn't ask Cazador for anything, but you had asked him if Astarion could he your personal servant, when he isn't out getting a prey. He found it odd, but allowed it. He saw no harm in that. So you had Astarion be with you for most of the evening and nights he wasn't out. He was shy at first, he thought that you too were like Cazador, due to his master's concubine and because you had a much higher rank. Except you were different. You too were a victim, except you weren't treated as a spawn, but a possession.

Him and you did a lot of things that you'd normally do on a daily. When you'd practice playing an instrument, Astarion would watch and listen to you. He too began to learn to play when you had offered to teach him. Same with reading, you'd read him books that Cazador had given you throughout the centuries. This was something new to Astarion, ever since he was brought by Cazador, he'd be constantly tormented by him. Until you had stepped in and asked for him to be with you at all times. When he wasn't out. Not only that, but you were kind to him, at first he thought you were the same as his master, but no. You were way different than the man you both feared.

Astarion loved to spend his time with you, it gave him some reason to not give up. Your kindness was keeping him alive in a way. At times when you weren't together, he'd be staring at the painting of you, hanged in the middle of the stairs of the castle. The way that you were painted was angelic like, you looked like a Queen. But he also noticed the same scar on your neck. Of course he knew that it was Cazador's doing. Besides that, you were just so beautiful. He almost couldn't believe that you were kind to him. Every time he'd be back from getting a prey, he always looked forward into being with you for a couple of days.

You were surprised Cazador had allowed this in the first place. Because you were often kept isolated front he other spawns and weren't really allowed to form any kind of friendship with them. That's the biggest reason why you'd be locked up in your room and barely able to speak with them. But Astarion seemed to be the only one you were allowed to speak to, for a while before he becomes a brainless spawns like the others. You hoped that it didn't lead to that. You really liked your new friend, it was as if you and him had formed a bond. A friendly one at that, but you felt more towards the now white haired male. It felt wrong in a way, but at the same time.

That evening was a nice one, you were doing your needle work with Astarion. Working on a black shirt that belonged to Cazador. You were sewing with a gold colored threat. Making flowers. That night Astarion didn't have to go to get prey. It was a nice and quiet, and no Cazador lurking by, since he had to take care of some 'business'. You were used to him disappearing out of nowhere with the excuse of being busy. You were to focused on the peacock you were working on while Astarion tried to follow your lead. You began to teach him how to embroider since he had asked and he was curious on your handy work. He had seen your work, specially on his Master's clothing.

Astarion was focused on the cloth in the hoop, trying to match the flower that you were making. Then he pinched his finger with the needle. Hissing in pain and dropping the hoop. You stopped what you were doing, looking over to him. You placed the shirt down and moved over towards Astarion. "Let me see." You said, then you took his bleeding finger into your hands too look at it. "I'm fine my lady." He said, respectfully. Watching you care for his pricked finger. You then leaned down and gave his injured finger a kiss. He felt his face heat up, by this gesture. You've done this so many times, and yet it feels like the first time. You didn't seem to mind getting blood on your perfectly red painted lips. You looked over at him and smiled. "Better?" you asked him, seen the flush look on his face, he nodded almost shyly like the first time you met.

You both locked eyes. Remaining frozen as you both looked at one another. You didn't even realize how you and him began to lean into one another. Slowly closing your eyes, then you both kissed. Your cold lips molding into one another's, softly. You've never been kissed this nice and sweet before. Cazador was rough and impressment. But Astarion? He was slow and passionate. You placed your hands on his shoulders, as a way to hold onto each other. He then snaked his hand at the back of your head, carefully holding your head up. Not wanting to mess up your perfectly combed hair with many hair pens and other flowers adorned to it.

The kiss was short, you pulled away and looked at him. He did the same. You didn't have to exchange words, it was clear that you and him loved that kiss. And you wanted to kiss him again. So you did, you kissed him again, a bit more eager this time. He followed your lead. You both completely forgot about what you were doing before. Now you were focused on this. You laid your body on the soft cushion of the couch. Pulling Astation on top of you. He didn't hesitate to get on top of you. He placed himself between your legs. As he continued to kiss you, more deeply. Then you ran your hand up his white shirt, feeling his cold skin against your cold fingers. Slightly touching his scarred back. Asatrion was too caught up in the moment to care, he took began to slide his hand up your skirt. Feeling your soft and delicate skin. He then pulled away and look at you.

You had a look of concern. "I'm sorry, did I do something wrong?" you asked nervously. "No, it's just. I don't want to take advantage of you. I wouldn't want to do something that might hurt you." He explained, you knew what he said was true. You placed your hands on both sides of his cheeks. "It's okay, I want this to happen. But if you don't, then I understand." You responded, with a small smile, as a way to comfort him. "I do too, but before we go any further. Please tell me that I have your consent. I wouldn't want you to be hurt... like he has hurt you..." he said worriedly. It was no secret that Cazador always got what he wanted no matter what. You understood why he'd ask for your consent. "You have my consent, but I have yours?" You asked him, it was only fair that you'd asked for his since he asked for yours. Astarion gave you a genuine smile. "Yes, you have my consent." He responded. Then you and him went back into kissing on another. You were too focused on one another that you didn't even noticed that you were actually being watched.

It's been a while since that happened. You'd think about that night a lot. You've never been intimate with anyone, besides Cazador. But this was a new form of intimacy, Astarion actually cared about what you wanted. Unlike his Master who didn't care about anyone but himself. You felt shivered running up your spine, just thinking about Astarion's hands touching your cold skin again. As much as you wanted to do it again, you didn't want to get caught but Cazador and have Asatrion be punished. If anything, you'd be the one to take the punishment instead of him.

Then the doors of your quarters were open, it was Cazador, he looked much calm, very calm. It was almost concerning. "My dear, may I have a word with you?" He asked, you felt a lump build up in your throat and you got nervous. "Yes, what is it?" You asked him, trying to remain calm as possible. "I've heard something from one of the Spawns. That you and Astarion engaged in something, that didn't involve, embroidery." This made your non beating heart sink, now he knew. "Just say yes or no. No need for an explanation. Just yes or no will be fine." He explained to you. There was no hiding it, he knew and you know what happens when you lie to him.

Taking a deep breath, you answered. "Yes, we did, what you think we did." You responded. Cazador only nodded, then he walked closer to you, taking your hands and brought you up from the bed. He looked at your eyes for a moment, then he leaned in for a kiss. That was odd, he was calm? You thought, as he continued to kiss you. Then he pulled away, placing his hand on your cold cheek affectionately. You only stared at him, confused. "How I'm going to miss those eyes." He said, only making you even more confused. Then your eyes widen and tears developed in your eyes. A strong pain grew in your chest.

Looking down, you saw a wooden stake, piercing through the red decorated fabric of the gown. Blood already pooling on your chest. You looked back at Cazador who had a look of displeasure, with the stake in his hand. He pushed it further and pushed you down, making you whimper. Then you fell to your right side, you were having a hard time breathing in pain. You touched the now bloodied stake. Attempting to pull it out, but it was no use, you'll be dead in a bit. Your hands were shaking aggressively. Laying on your back, in pain and tears pooling in your eyes. As you tried to keep your eyes open, it was no use. You were growing weaker by the minute, the last thing you saw was Cazador watching you die as someone had come in to the courters.

As soon as Astarionn saw you on the floor, bloodied. He couldn't help but feel a wave of shock grow in his eyes. He covered in mouth in disbelief. Seen your now deceased corpse on the floor. With a stake to your heart and blood on your beautiful gown. He didn't hesitate going over and pulling you towards him. "No no, my lady." He whimpered, trying to see any sign of life, but nothing. You were gone, forever. "Be grateful that it wasn't you. I wouldn't want to loose you too soon now." Cazador taunted at him. Astation was more focused on you. He felt all sorts of emotions going on in his mind. All he could do is hug you close to him, holding your head near his lips. Trying to process what was happening. He had accidently touched the blood that was pooled on your gown and accidently smeared it on your left side of your face. He couldn't believe what was happening.

He stayed frozen with your body in his arm. Mumbling that he was sorry many times. Wishing that you'd wake up at any moment now. But now, you remained limp, not moving one inch. You were gone, the love of his life, was gone. He was forced by Cazador to let go of your body, he didn't want to. He too wanted to get flayed just to be with you again, but he knew that his master will not allow it. Your body had been burned, along with most of your belongings and such. As a way to erase you for good. Despite burning everything that you owned, that was not going have Astarion forget about you.

Two centuries had already passed and Astarion had still not forgot about you. You were in his mind for ages, he still remembered your face, smell, voice, everything. He was not going to allow your memory of you to be forgotten. The painting of you had been moved into Cazador's quarters since he had decided to keep it as his biggest trophy. Astarion had got a few glimpses of the painting when entering the room, he hated the fact that he painting was moved. But one night, he got a small sheet of paper and pain, drawing only your face on the painting. He did a decent job drawing your features, they weren't the best, but he did what he could. He also left out the scar on the left side of your neck, knowing that you didn't like that scar. He kept the picture with him at all times. He would spend hours and hours looking at it. He'd tear up almost all the time, allowing his tears to land on the soft vanilla colored paper. Often wishing that it was him who got staked instead of you. You didn't deserve to die so coldly by HIM.

Then he got captured by the mindflayers and things headed towards another direction. He was taken far from Baldur's Gate, with a tadpole inserted in his brain and now he had to find a way to get rid of it. Just great, that's exactly what he just needed. Then he came across a party of people. Maybe he could join them and help them get back to Baldur's Gate, as well as whatever needed to get done. Perhaps he could use his charm for his advantage. It was an easy plan, but then, he set his eyes on their leader. He couldn't believe it, was it possible You had the face of someone he knew, someone he loved many centuries ago. Perhaps, you may remember him in a way? Or did your new life had made you forget about him? Whatever it was, he wanted to be with you in your new life, maybe he could protect you better or even start an actual relationship with you, but will he fall for you or the person that you once were?

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