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doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou · 9 months

Text

What Does It Mean?

> lady lesso x fem!reader

> requested? yes! by @1ntr0v3rt3dsna1l

> content/warnings: nothing, this is just the start so it's probs boring 🤷🏻‍♀️ anw,

> a/n: i'll write more dw, i just need my badly needed vacation lol, i'll probably turn this into a mini series anw

request prompt: Y/N is an Ever (and, of course, a reader) from the modern world (where we live, baby!). Y/N had already read the books of School for Good and Evil and is well aware of everything about it in general. Lady Lesso slowly harbored a crush on Y/N, and despite being opposites, they became close friends. Lady Lesso found out that Y/N is her soulmate, but Lesso keeps denying it. Y/N knew Lady Lesso so well, so she wasn't shocked or surprised (because, after all, the books). Then, Y/N eventually gave up on trying to bridge their relationship... And left after the Rafal thing?

“Will you ever stop reading these nonsense books?”

Rolling your eyes, you huffed and slammed the book you were reading down your lap. “They are not nonsense.”

You gave your sister a glare and picked up the book you were reading. “And please, do not touch those if you do not want to read them. Go and do anything else. Maybe dance to those Tik Tak things whatever the hell those are.”

Setting the book, School for Good and Evil, back with a thump, your sister sneered at you and left without another word.

“How can such a pretty face be a menace to my peace?" you muttered as you continued reading.

“Good morning, Evers! Do have a pleasant day today!”

Groaning and stretching, you opened your eyes and observed your surroundings. After a minute of listening to the birds, you let your eyes widen and let out a scream.

"Oh, shut it, Reader!”

“It's too early for this, Y/N.”

Closing your mouth, you gazed at the owners of the voices that told you to shut up. Glaring at them, you huffed and went to the washroom.

“Why do I always have pissy princesses as dorm mates? Ugh.” You splashed your face with cold water and scrubbed it hard. Glancing at your un-reddened face, you groaned and huffed.

“Why is everything so perfect in these stories?!”

Deciding to let it be, you stripped down and started washing yourself. You didn't even hear your ‘roommates’ tell you that they were off to the hall to get breakfast. For half an hour, you hummed and washed yourself peacefully, without anyone bothering you about towels and tampons.

As you finished your wash, you saw a fairy waiting outside the door for you. It started to whine and pull you by the strands of your hair to get ready. “Ow! Ow! Ow! It hurts!”

Swatting the fairy away from you, you rolled your eyes and picked a gown that matched your interest. Because who would even want to wear a gown that doesn't compliment their own style, right?

“Do you do this with every teacher here?” You asked the fairy that kept on pulling you towards the hall. You knew it didn't do anything, yet you felt conscious enough to say it out loud. You knew how hard these fairies worked all day. After all, you've read this book a thousand times.

“Lesso! Are you even listening?” Dovey gave her counterpart a glare.

Siding with her friend, Anemone egged on the argument. “Of course she's not. Look at her. She's been caressing her scalp for the last ten minutes.”

Lesso caressed her scalp one more time before hissing at Anemone. “Excuse me for feeling my soulmate's pain.”

With that word, Anemone and Dovey forgot the topic they were going to bother Lesso about. "Oh, really? It means they must have come!”

Frowning, Lesso raised an eyebrow at Dovey. “What did you say?”

Widening her eyes, Dovey glanced at Anemone and let out a nervous laugh. “Oh, haha! It's nothing, right, Emma?”

Anemone finished her meal and, after feigning ignorance, glanced at Dovey and Lesso. “Oh! Yes, yes. It's nothing, Lady Lesso.” Dovey huffed and kicked Emma’s shin before continuing her own meal.

That was close.

Oh, please, do you honestly think that Lesso would see through my lie?

Dovey and Emma started having their own conversation in their minds to try and prevent Lesso from hearing what they had planned.

Actually, I did catch on to your lie, Emma. I just didn’t want to hear your voice anymore.

Choking on their teas, Emma and Dovey glanced at each other before giving Lesso a horrified look. She can hear us?! They asked each other telepathically.

I thought we had already established this. Yes, I can both hear you.

And while Emma and Dovey had to endure the embarrassment that came with Lesso hearing their conversation, you had your own problem with the numerous fairies ‘prepping’ your hair outside the dining hall.

“Please, it already appears to be fine.” You laughed angrily, trying not to knock any of the fairies away from you. "Just stop."

Irritated, the fairies stopped smothering you and flew away. “Finally!” You let out a huff and grabbed your gown before opening the hall door.

And as usual, your late venture towards the dining hall caught the attention of, if not all, of the people already there. Feeling the blood rushing to your cheeks, you cleared your throat before striding down the path towards the teachers’ table. Given that you had already read the books, you knew who Professor Dovey was and what would catch her attention. Pink. So you opted to wear a pale pink dress to ‘get on’ the dean's good side.

“Professor Dovey.” The blonde woman stood up and gave you a grin that could match a child’s smile when they see sweets.

“Oh, Y/N, you are here! Thank you for adhering to my request.” Dovey took your hands in hers and gave it a loving squeeze.

Letting out a chuckle, you glanced around and said, “It was hardly a request, Professor. My mentor didn’t even let me see your letter before firing me from my job.”

Your statement garnered you two audiences, Emma and Lesso. Emma shook her head at the situation you were put through because of her friend’s plan. Lesso, on the other hand, let out a hum before smirking in your direction.

“Not even here for an hour, and you already have yourself an Ever dressed in sheep’s clothing, Clarissa.” Lesso stood up and stole your hands from Clarissa’s before giving it a kiss. “Welcome to the School for Good and Evil, Y/N.”

Watching her counterpart leave without saying a word to her, Clarissa rolled her eyes and turned to you. “Don’t pay attention to her words, dear. I’m sure you're as pure as you seem to be.”

She pulled you to sit on the chair that Lesso had occupied moments before and snapped her fingers to get rid of the dirty dish. “Do help yourself, Y/N. You need it.”

You didn’t know what those words were meant for. Were they to reassure you or to threaten you with what you had agreed to do?

#leonora lesso x reader #lady lesso x reader #school for good and evil #lady lesso #leonora lesso #professor anemone #clarissa dovey

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whirlwindimagines · 2 years

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I wanna give vash a comforting head pats and some loving head scritches, tell him he has been working hard and needs to rest sometimes, the world not going anywhere, he can rest. May I request a scenario of vash sad he didn’t save everyone again and is sad, so reader hesitately reaches up to his head before deciding to give him a head pat, telling him he did his best with the circumstances he had, it’s not his fault for being unable to save absolutely everyone, and all that matters is he saved at least someone, and that’s enough? Plz and thanks

Okay but same ;p; Like let me hold Vash and tell him everything is gonna be okay! Studio orange let Vash be happy challenge, please. I’m a little sad, so lol this reflects that for sure This definitely got out of hand and turned into something else

Lol you can tell I wrote this after my therapy session.

‘I’ll stare directly at the sun, but never in the mirror’

Vash x Reader

You wonder how Vash can continue like this, the gunfight had been as usual destructive and deadly. Neither of you made out of it unscathed and the town had suffered as well, it broke your heart how much Vash tried to make things right. How he didn't want to hurt anyone or let anyone get hurt, but you can't save anyone and especially not alone.

Vash had gone off on his own, he checked you for injuries and was distressed to find one. You brushed him off, saying you were fine and that you would take care of it and now you have no idea where he went. He wouldn't leave you here by yourself, you weren't worried about that. But you were worried about him.

Briefly, you wondered how Vash would handle this, but you knew it would be fake smiles and white lies, he must be tired you were tired of it. The suns were setting now, casting the desert in a purplish red light. You sigh standing and brushing the sand from yourself, you’ve done all you can to help the people here and they didn't want any more help from Vash the Stampede.

Wandering around the town you found Vash with the Thomas, he’s petting it gently Vash was much better with the creature than you were. You join his side quietly and he greets you with a small wave and a light smile. You try to greet him with one of your own but you can’t you are tired of the fakeness God you want Vash to express some emotion, sadness hell you’d take anger something.

“Are you okay?” you don't know why you ask; you could repeat his response word for word I’m fine are you okay?

“I’m fine are you okay?” his response pisses you off, you knew the words were coming but you were sick of it. You clench your fist at your sides, wanting to get angry, but you know that’s not what Vash needs right now. You can be angry on his behalf later; he stares at you confused as you deflate.

“No Vash I'm not okay.” he looks startled, his hands hovering over your body unsure if he should touch you, wishing he would, you step closer to the blonde as he speaks, “Where are you hurt?” shaking your head, he only looks confused you don't know how to express your hurt to Vash. Because it’s not your physical pain that’s hurting you right now, it’s his hurt you care about. You want to cry for him, to scream out and curse the world, because you know he never will, and that’s what hurts.

Taking a step closer your bodies are nearly touching, you reach a hand up and place it gently on his head. “You did your best, you know that right?” you ask and you can hear the stuttering breath he takes in, he looks directly into your eyes and you can see his begin to water. You smile kindly at him, patting his head gently before running your fingers through his hair so your hand is resting on the nape of his neck.

He may not want to hear this, but you know he needs to. “Not everyone can be saved, and that is not your fault. God Vash, you do your best every day, and if no one else sees that I do, I see you. We will get through today.” You pull him in closer, gently resting your forehead against his, you can feel him tremble as the tears slowly drip down his face. You hold him to you lightly, giving him a chance to pull away if needed. You don’t want him to, but you know you can only push Vash so much.

He doesn’t pull away instead he raises his hands and cups your face, holding you there so you can't pull away. You startle a bit when you feel his thumbs wipe your own tears, you didn't even realize you had been crying yourself. “It’s just….” You don’t say anything while Vash struggles with what he has to say. You’re hoping he’ll be honest, and not bottle up all the pain.

“I don’t know how to move forward” the words are whispered against your lips, as if he’s afraid to admit it out into the open. you close your eyes, and your heart breaks. Vash moves back, you think he’ll pull away completely but he doesn’t instead he places a kiss on your forehead, and it makes your heart skip a beat.

Vash pulls you into a hug then, his arms going around your shoulders while yours wrap around his waist, he cries softly and you let him holding on to him tight for as long as he needs. Your hands rub his back under his red coat, “I know, but you are not alone I'm right here and I’ll be right here as long as you need me. Let me help you anyway you need.” you answer trying not to choke on your words, putting as much emotion as you can into your words.

He sobs, gripping you painfully tight but you don't mind, letting him take all the comfort he can get and asking for nothing in return. His hands shift down your back squeezing again, the action jostles your wound and you let out a pained cry because of it. Vash lets go instantly stepping back. You're shocked by the sudden coldness, your hands hanging limply at your side. He’s looking at you wide eye, “I'm sorry.” he chokes out, he looks like he's going to run you can't let him.

You move forward quickly, he sees you coming and steps back right into the Thomas the pack animal moves forward startled it causes Vash to lose balance, injury, and boundaries be damned you grab him by his jacket and surge forward he falls straight onto his back and you let the momentum take you with.

He lands on his back hard, and you land right on top of him straddling his waist you still have a hold of his jacket, “Stop! Don't you dare run away.” you say it a little frantically, “I'm okay really just… stop.” you whisper, he looks up at you his eyes filled with tears. How did you even get here, you didn't mean to be forceful with Vash but you couldn't let him pull away when he was so down on himself. Blaming himself for everything, you know he blames himself for you getting hurt. But these things just happen.

“I just can't seem to do anything right,” he says it with a light chuckle, and you fist the material of his jacket leaning in, you watch his eyes go wide and a blush settles on his face you choose to ignore that. “Vash.” you say his name sternly, and he gulps at your tone, “I am going to say this in the nicest way possible, but if you say one more bad thing about yourself, I'm going to hurt you.”

You don't really mean it; you could never hurt Vash, but he does this light laugh that sounds real and it makes your heart soar. He grabs each of your wrists, and you loosen your grasp blushing as he looks at you softly. “Okay, I get it… I just don't deserve you, you’re always doing so much for me, and you're so kind! I just feel like-” You cut off his rambling by grasping his hands and intertwining your fingers with him, and you lean forward pressing into him it shuts him right up.

“What did I just say? This world doesn’t deserve you, don't ever think you don't deserve nice things, and comfort. You deserve the world, and I wish I could give it to you.” you pause, your heart beating wildly in your chest, thinking your next words carefully, but you want him to understand. “Can I show you?”

“Show me what?” his voice drops to a whisper, the suns have long since set and his eyes seem to glow in the moonlight, “How much you mean to me, how much I care.” you wonder if his heart is beating as fast, he nods and you drop his hands they fall limply to his side as you cup his face. “I need you to say it.”

He takes in a deep breath, the words leaving him in a whine, “Please show me how much you care about me.” he looks so embarrassed, but you smile brightly as you lean in kissing his forehead, “I love how kind you are.” you mutter, he makes a startled noise, but you keep going moving to kiss under his right eye, “How you see the good in everyone.” under his left eye next, “How strong you are, but only use your strength to help those in need.”

You pull back to check on his face to make sure you're not overwhelming him too much, his eyes are watery again and there is a slight tremble to his lips but he doesn’t ask you to stop or pull away so you continue, kissing him on the tip of his nose, “You put up with me and I appreciated it, even when I'm being difficult.” he lets out a light chuckle at this, and you smirk. Your eyes flicker to his lips and then to his eyes asking for permission to continue, your voice quiet in the night.

“Please,” he asks and well who are you to refuse, you lean in pressing your lips to his gently, he touches you now finding the courage to do so, his prosthetic resting on your waist, while his other hand comes to rest on the nape of your next.

You pull back barely out of reach, “And I really love how you never give up, even when it would be easier. You are so good Vash, and if I need to spend every day reminding you of that I will.”

He lets out a whimper, you lean back into to give him another kiss he holds you close, you feel his grip tighten on your waist. You don’t mind, letting him take as much as he wants. You don’t know how long the two of you stay like this, sharing soft kisses and shy touches. But eventually you pull back, resting your hands gently on his chest.

“Are you okay? Was that too much?” You ask softly, he opens his eyes to look at you, you can see the blush covering his face, and making you smile. He removes his hands form you, instead covering his whole face to block his blush. “Is that a yes then?” You tease lightly.

“Thank you…” he says it quietly, and it makes your heart melt, you grab both his wrist and pull them away so you can see his face, placing a soft kiss on the inside of each wrist you smile softly at him. “You don’t need to thank me; I’ll do this every day if you want.”

“Then it really will be too much.” He whines and you laugh getting to your feet and pulling him up. Once he’s standing you drop his hands, “never, I’ll never run out of love for you.” He’s blushing again hands covering his face once more, you love when he gets all shy. You step around him reaching up to tussle his blonde locks, “we need to find our Thomas now.”

He sighs dropping his hands, “I’ll find her.” You laugh he tells you to wait here and he’ll be back. Watching him leave, you hope that you were able to bring him some comfort. You hope he understood how deeply you cared for him, and that you would continue to be by his side no matter what.

Eventually, Vash came back he held out his hand from the top of the Thomas, you grabbed his hand and he pulled you up, settling you in front of him. You thanked him as you grabbed the reins, Vash settled his arms around your waist. Resting his chin on top of your head you smiled, as you moved the Thomas forward, you didn’t know where to head next but it didn’t matter as long as you were together.

#vash the stampede x reader #vash imgaine #vash imagines #vash x reader #vash the stampede #trigun #trigun stampede imagine #trigun stampede x reader #trigun stampede #trigun x reader #trigun stampede headcanons

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peace-for-levi · 2 years

Text

Welcome Back

lol hiiiii, sorta haven't written in *checks watch* eight months so i am RUSTY.

cw: feelings of grief, graphic descriptions of dissociation, reader feeling disconnected and needing to be grounded. post-expedition hurt-comfort is my fav genre, lol.

word count: 1447.

taglist: @levmada @jayteacups @happybird16 @theferricfox @sckerman @wortverlust @lostinwildflowers @pockcock @nelapanela94 @notgoodforlife @unadulteratedtreecrusade @starstruckkittensweets

Arms up. Arms down.

Grief anchors and weighs you down like a ball and chain. It's heavy, cumbersome and you are left to just bear the brunt of it. It has a way of removing you from the world, leaving you unable (even unwilling) to reconnect. The most recent expedition and the deaths that came with it weigh down on your shoulders. You lean over, back hunched. Neck tense.

Distantly, you recognise what it is you are feeling (or lack of.) Distantly, you recognise the expedition has probably sent you into this state.

Your vision is 'stretched', or distorted, and everything has a dull fuzz to it. You're sure if you reached to grab the book on your bedside locker, it would slip through your fingers and melt away.

And that you'd wake up from this.

You form a fist and relax it, stretching your fingers. Lines on your fingers; oh, five fingers, all with fingernails. Five sets of knuckles. These are your hands? Surely, right?

You form a fist and this time you squeeze, and you almost feel your nails sink in. Just slightly but it's enough for you to shudder. In realization? In pain?

It's not unusual for your mind to be stuck out in the plains beyond the Walls. The boom and echo of flares rattles in your ears, the screams of your comrades leaves your head spinning. The idea of being back in your bedroom is just something you haven't registered yet, too busy stuck somewhere between a nightmare and reality.

A fake, shadowy middle of unreality.

It's nauseating, harrowing. If not for your feet pressed to the floor and your calves backed to the edge of the bed frame, you'd have a hard time trusting gravity in keeping you down.

There's a voice in the foreground, but you're not quite there yet. Their speech is fragmented.

You cling to reason; to routine and actions. You try to cling to dialogue and even though you understand the words, they don't get processed. You try to attune to the conversation, however one-way it is.

"Your shoulders tense up when you get like this. Relax."

Shoulders… ah, your shoulders? So you roll them. You don't really know what else to do. Tense? Why are you tense and what–

…

What are you…?

Where…?

Levi senses he's losing you further here, so he gives you an order. A command; you can latch onto that. It'll give your brain something to do, long enough to take you away from the plains.

"Legs out. I'll undo your buckles," he says as he kneels between your legs.

Leg up, straighten, leg down.

Same idea again for your left.

The frigid air against your – now – bare skin makes you shiver. Your clothes are being taken off, piece by piece.

"Do you know where you are?"

"Do you know…?" is a question that he noticed that also makes you come back to your senses. He has asked a question that requires a logical answer; you need to go searching for clues.

You know it's your bedroom – what else could it possibly be? – but it just looks so… wrong. In a moment of faint realization, you feel the night's gentle breeze prick the skin on your legs. You turn to the bedside locker and see a bowl of lumpy, congealed soup with a bread roll that looks like it's on the verge of going bad. You must have forgotten to eat it. There's an oil lamp next to the soup, as well as an old book. Reading is a bit too hard at the moment; you can hardly put together the title of the book.

Now you look in front of you. Of course the black hair and grey eyes belong to your lover, but he didn't look so real right now. If you reached out to touch him, would you feel the black tresses spill between your fingers? The war-torn hands clasp your own?

You sink your fingertips into his scalp. He lets it happen, lets you cling to him. He doesn't even flinch, he knows you need grounding. He brings a hand up and rests it on yours, as if to say…

Feel me.

I am alive. You are alive. We are both here, and you will not wake up from this.

(Your brain just needs a lot of convincing.)

He squeezes his hand over yours. "You're getting ready for a bath, I'm helping you," he states. More information to cling to. "Whatever you're feeling, let it be there."

He is slowly walking you to your ensuite. The ground beneath your feet felt soft, even for oak planks. You fumble as you walk, second-guessing your surroundings, but Levi's got you.

He's always there.

The boundaries of the room appear elusive and murky, as you reach out for the skirting on the sides of the bathroom door. Levi was smart and had the bath ready to go, warm water prepped. With a cupped palm, he gently guides you into the bath.

"Step in."

A command to follow.

Leg up, over, and sit.

You soak into the heated water and sit down. You vaguely feel the suds cling to you. The aware part of you hopes they'll wash away the muddy feeling.

Levi begins to fill up a bucket of the sudsy water. He takes a look at your toned back, marred with grime, dirt and caked blood, and stops. He thumbs over some of the rougher sores and tears; some of these scars have been there for years. Shades of purples and blacks and reds, dotting the surface; all serving as a horrific reminder that, so far, you have made it back home every time.

You watch the dirt drip down and swirl in the water, floating there.

Silence permeates between the two of you, and normally, it is a comfortable silence. But Levi wanted to check in.

"How are you doing now, [F/n]?"

Blink. You stare back at him with pupils blown, looking at everything and nothing. "Fine."

"Do you know who I am?" He asks, carefully, scrubbing your shoulders.

Black hair, grey eyes. "Levi…" you murmur.

He nods. Should he press further? He's not sure.

Dissociation is a fickle defense mechanism with a hair-trigger temperament. It can be the deaths of the comrades in your most recent expedition; it could also be triggered by the smell or sound that reminds you of something unpleasant. It sometimes comes when it wants and Levi learned the best way to deal with it was to not deal with it. To let it happen, and sit beside you as it does.

"Don't fight it. Let it be there."

But you don't want it to be there. You stretch out your palm and reach for the towel, but you just hold it. Maybe for comfort, maybe to feel a texture. You register the caked blood by your cuticles and you keep it in your mind's eye for a second, but your vision starts to splinter again.

"But it feels awful…" you find yourself saying. "I hate not recognising my surroundings, I hate not–"

He cuts in. "I know, sweetheart. I know." He takes hold of your hand and squeezes. "I know." He assures.

Because he does.

He's sat with you through every episode of this.

He guides you out of the bath when you're done, and dresses you in your nightgown. He sweeps your hair up and out of your face, before cupping your cheeks. You practically fall into his hands. He pats your cheek in response.

"You back with me yet?"

You shake your head, but your answers are coming out quicker now. He steers you with one hand on the small of your back and peels back the comforter.

As the room gets shrouded in darkness, you're pulled to his chest. A smell of cedar and black tea, the thrum of his pulse and the rise and fall of his chest. Small circles being etched into your hips by his thumb.

"We're going to try to rest now." He tells you.

A command of sorts, something to stick to.

Get in bed, lie down, and breathe.

"Yes, okay," you mumble as you twiddle your thumbs. "Okay."

He pulls you impossibly closer, nose in the crook of your neck and suddenly... you're in the clear.

"I'm [F/n]. I'm in my room. I'm with Levi…" you whisper to yourself, with confidence.

"Welcome back," your lover sleepily replies.

{friendly reminder acceptance doesn't work for everyone but it is a healthy start for some!}

#cece; speaks #levi x reader #husbando tag<3 #levi ackerman #captain levi #levi ackerman angst #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #aot #snk #aot levi #snk levi #levi x you #tw.dissociation #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin

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flame-resistant · 1 year

Text

You were so warm, he just wanted you to hold him a bit longer.

Content: He was just trying to understand how you saw him. All he got was more confusion.

Hating was such an easy emotion, one he was programmed to feel from such a young age. Everything made him itch: the kid across the street eating ice cream, the sickly cute couple making out on the train, the fundamentals of society. It was such an overwhelming feeling, but oh so easy to fall into.

You were supposed to be the same, just like everyone else in this god-forsaken world. So why didn't he itch when you smiled at him? Why did he allow you to put chapstick on his lips? A voice in his head saying it would be so easy to end your life. Just one touch and these new feelings would be gone.

He almost did it. Your napping form was in his bed, next to him as he played another solo round of LoL. Losing was a rare occasion, but sometimes it happened. His master always reminded him that it was an important lesson to get stronger. Still didn't mean he wasn't annoyed when the computer won. Throwing the controller to the floor, he huffed in annoyance ready to sleep off his frustrations. Forgetting you were also in bed with him, the two of you talking before his game. Seeing you however made him stop, the irritable look still plaster to his face. Why couldn't you sleep in your own damn room?

A scratch at his neck was heard as he eyed your form, teeth gritting as it got more apparent he had a bad itch. The only solution he was taught was to hurt, his free hand subconsciously reaching to touch. Just make the itch go away.

Moving just in time, he quickly pulled back. Crimson eyes were in shock, an odd feeling of guilt settling in his chest. He slept on the floor that night.

Avoidance became a norm for him when dealing with you. If he needed something, Kurogiri would speak on his behalf. If you tried to touch him, he would flinch away. Not even allowing you in his room anymore. The same cold look masked the true feelings. A voice somewhere deep asking to be touched again. Just once!

He thought he would lose it when you were hellbent on checking on his wounds. it was a fight, so what? Master said it was good to feel pain, that it would make his hatred stronger. A hoarse voice echoed in his small bedroom.

"Stop."

Eyes looked up at him from your squatting position. Was he really this stubborn? You decided, yes he was. Well, two could play that game. Giving him a stern look, you grabbed his arm. Pulling the hoodie sleeve up to get a better look at the cut.

He could kill you, he should kill you for being so damn defiant. Though that little voice in his head told him to stay put, at least for now.

Your hands were surprisingly gentle, at least for someone who was always treated so roughly. Was this what real kindness was like? He wasn't sure if he liked it or not. As you wrapped the now-cleaned wound, he asked what was on his mind for a while.

"What do you want?"

Confusion was your first reaction, not understanding the context. it took a few seconds to realize he meant what did you want in return for helping him.

"Nothing, boss. That cut just looked gnarly."

Now it was his turn to look at you oddly. Nothing was your response? Really?

"You must be pretty stupid then."

Perhaps, you wouldn't deny that. You did decide to join a terrorist organization, after all, a poor one at that. Shrugging your shoulders, you packed up the bandages, ready to head out when his voice stopped you.

"I didn't say to leave."

Turning back to face the blue-haired villain, you waited patiently for him to speak. At least say something about why he told you to stay. Though from the looks of it, you weren't getting an answer anytime soon. He didn't even look like he knew the answer. The awkward silence continued until he crossed his arms uncomfortably. Eyes squinted in frustration as he tried to understand why you even cared. Why you wanted to hang out with him, talk to him, just deal with him.

"Do you see me as a child?"

A what? Again a confused look was your take. A head scratch in trying to decipher his conclusion. Maybe you were dumb because you just weren't understanding his words.

"Why would I think that?"

"Because you're nice to me and you said you didn't want anything. So what, I'm some kid now?"

You could tell he was getting frustrated himself, shaking your head you did your best to get him to calm down. You both knew it would end badly if he continued down this tangent.

"No! I see you as a friend, a comrade."

Silence, the tension was thick in the air as he continued to stare you down. At least now he didn't seem offended or at least not wanting to destroy his room. Your words were...different. A friend? He couldn't remember the last time he heard that word. Maybe, just maybe he thought of you as the same. A twitch from his finger, red eyes staring into space as he tried to figure it out. Friends...

"Prove it."

Did he mean that? A hesitant hand reached out to the man, making sure it was safe to do as you pleased. Not seeing any resistance from him, you pushed onward. Your hand now brushed through his somewhat greasy locks, pushing them back to see the scars from his scratching. The other hand moved to his arm, trying to pull him closer. Again, he didn't deny your touch, almost like a puppet just following your lead. Was he used to being controlled? You hoped not.

By the end, he was pressed to your chest as you hugged him. It was awkward, sure, but it seemed he liked it. Or at least was tolerant of it. His eyes closed as you petted his head. You were so warm, he just wanted you to hold him a bit longer. Pulling away after a few heartbeats, you looked down at the mellowed villain.

"Want to play a game, I know you have an extra controller."

A blink as he came back from his daze, but nonetheless he nodded in agreement. You were friends, you said so yourself. It was always more fun to play with a friend.

#flameresistant #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki fluff #shigaraki imagine #shigaraki mha #shigaraki bnha #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki my hero academia #shigaraki tomura #tomura shiragaki #emotionally repressed shigaraki #just give this boy a hug

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al-astakbar · 11 months

Note

Can I request a size kink with a sprinkle of choking w our favorite blueberry man 🥺 (your thrawn fics made my day lol)

> title ☆ Lucky

> summary ☆ The warlord Grand Admiral Thrawn chooses you to keep his bed warm.

> pairing ☆ Thrawn x reader ☆ word count [2.1k] ☆ warnings ☆ size kink; big cock; size difference; very mild choking (consensual hand on throat, no squeezing or breathplay); butt plug; mildly dubcon because of the circumstance/power imbalance

> posted on ao3

You are lucky to be a warlord’s prize. Luckier still that the warlord in question is Grand Admiral Thrawn.

“I frighten you,” he says. Not a question.

You nod, because he does. He’s broad shouldered and tall, his uniform stretched over his back and chest and as you stand in front of him, the top of your head barely reaches his collarbone. He gazes down at you from such a height, his red eyes glowing and his expression glacially, ominously calm.

But he intrigues you for all the same reasons. Perhaps that’s why he had chosen you.

Perhaps he could tell how your pulse had spiked the first time you’d ever seen him. How your breath had caught at how sharply handsome he was, and how very alien he seemed, with those unsettling, bright eyes and blue skin and forehead ridges. Even more than his stature, Thrawn commands power. It is honed and imposing, evident in every movement, every word.

He had pointed to you out of a lineup, silently. An elegant, almost lazy gesture of his white-gloved hand. He wanted that one-- you-- and two of his stormtroopers had hauled you off to his shuttle.

He steals you away from everything you know. You did not think he would be so gentle with you.

“Come,” he orders, indicating his lap. “Sit.”

In thin socks and your thin shift, you approach him, heart beating wildly. This won’t be so bad. He only wants you close, a little pet to keep him company. He chose you, he explains calmly, because you looked like you might be particularly responsive to stimulation… and he was right.

Trembling, you don’t dare flinch away from his touch. But he quickly convinces you that you wouldn’t want to. Why had you ever wanted to?

He plays with you absently for a while, running his fingers through your hair. Palming your breasts over the fabric and rolling your nipples, pinching and tugging them until you whine. All the while he has a data pad in his other hand, and he punishes you with a sharp slap to your thigh if you get too loud or impatient. You feel small in his lap, like a little toy, something tactile for him to play with.

Sit nicely, be pretty. The more you wriggle in his lap, the more you feel something firm and big pressing against your butt. Too big. Enticing. You squeeze your thighs together, desire mounting with the heady knowledge that he could so easily overpower you and take what he wants.

After a while, when you are restless, he turns you, ass up over his knee, smooths his hands up your thighs as he pushes them apart without resistance. He hmms at the sight of you. So unashamed and needy, all slick and shaking and ripe. Instead of touching you like you want, he works a plug into your ass, tells you “we’ll save that for later”, and sits you on his back on his lap. He is careful not to hurt you, but at the same time he takes no heed of your protests. Bounces his knee every so often so you don’t get too used to the plug. He wants to make sure you can always feel it, a reminder of what’s to come.

He gets you wet and messy on his tongue first before he even undoes his trousers. You can see his erection tenting the fabric when he stands up. Big. This promises to be painful if he isn’t careful, and you can’t will the tension out of your body, even after he tastes you and opens you with his long fingers. One fits nicely. Two of them stretch you, bigger than anything or anyone you’ve had before. Three. Too much, but he tells you that you must, because his cock is even bigger and for it to feel good, he must take the time to prepare you.

But you feel so small under him, so unyieldingly tight.

When he decides you’re prepared enough, he stands, his mouth glistening with your arousal. He doesn’t bother fully undressing, just tucks the hem of his tunic up in his belt and--

You can’t help staring when pulls out his cock.

Thick and long, and much less human than you expected. It has ridges, seemingly made for pleasure. Made to fuck deep and stay deep, to fill so you so well you’ll never be happy with anything else. The shaft is particularly thick, around the middle. You don’t know how it’s supposed to fit in you or anyone.

He lifts you easily. Urges you to wrap your legs around his waist, which you do with apprehension.

He notches the head of his cock at your entrance, where it feels impossibly big.

“It won’t fit,” you tell him in a small voice. “Please, it won’t--”

Instead of pressing up, he lowers you, as if you weigh nothing. You squirm at the intrusion, whimpering too big too big please~ the thick head pushes, then slips. Thrawn gives a low growl, tries again. This time, he holds you securely, lets you drop slowly. He splits you open, inch by torturous inch, until the head is in.

He stills. “Breathe. Take a deep breath.”

On your exhale, he lets you down a little lower.

You whine, and as you slide down more-- a little more-- you’ve never had anything this big, had never even imagined it. You throb around it, squeezing your eyes shut. Thrawn’s hands grip your ass, spreading you apart wide, but even like this the plug doesn’t come out.

Your body does not let the thickest part of him in easily. You know better than to struggle, you just have to relax and take it, but you shake with the effort, skin bright with a sheen of exertion.

Blood roars behind your ears. Your cunt pulses around him uselessly.

It’s too much.

He gives a slight jerk of his hips and--

A slick, obscene sound, and your own incoherent, shocked moan. Overwhelming pressure. You’re fully speared on his cock.

Thrawn’s approval is a purr. An unbroken string of words in his low, soft voice. In Basic, first, but he lapses to something alien.

You have your arms slung around his shoulders, which are so broad you can barely reach your hands. Your face buried against his neck, mouth slack. You’re drooling slightly, drooling on his pristine white uniform.

“Look at me,” he says.

You raise your head, eyes bleary and unfocused. His lips are parted, cheeks flushed purple.

“How do you feel?”

“G-good. And…” the plug in your ass plus Thrawn’s cock -- your body sings with arousal. “Full.” And, against everything you expected, safe.

He smiles. “Yes, you are quite full. I can feel how you squeeze. But…You can take more, can’t you. You want more.”

“Y-yes.”

“Good girl.”

And you melt. Lucky, indeed.

He doesn’t kiss you at first. He waits until this moment, until you are fully impaled on his cock, to slant his mouth over yours in a hungry, claiming kiss. His lips and tongue are hot. He licks into your mouth, swallows down your little moans and answers with his own.

He lifts you up, and your inner muscles tremble.

He fucks you like you’re a toy. No need to thrust his hips when he’s strong enough to simply move you how he wants. Lift up- pull down.

The pulse in your core races. Makes every in-out of his cock that much more immediate, makes you feel how you barely fit around him, you’re too small and tight and he’s much, much too large. Sweat beads across your skin, hot and prickly all over.

He’s so big, moving faster now, you can’t quite catch your breath. With every stroke his ridged cock drags a shivery pleasure over the most sensitive spot inside you, stretching you, pressing everywhere.

He cums once, fast. His hips jerk and his cock twitches and swells and overfills you. He doesn’t stop. Barely even slows down even as his viscous cum drips out of you. And soon, with a needy, broken moan, he cums again. He’s not going to stop. He’s going to keep going, keep fucking you until he feels your pleasure unravel around him.

When you are nice and pliant, he pulls out. Your body misses him right away. An empty ache where his cock should be. And you can’t quite stand on your own, your legs wobbly and coltish. His cum and your arousal drips down, you feel it and hear it squelching inside you. You sag against him.

He puts you on the bed, which is neatly made with a military-style coarse wool blanket pulled over crisp, taut white sheets.

You watch him, transfixed, spread your legs for him.

His cock is still hard, a deep bruised purple but now streaked and sticky with his spend, with a line of it dripping down his balls too.

Deliberate and meticulous, he undresses. Stripping off his belt and boots and tunic to fold and put aside with care.

A uniform, on some people, lends charisma and authority they don’t actually have. Not Thrawn. He doesn’t look any shorter without his boots. His shoulders and chest are just as broad and well-defined without the sharp lines of the tunic accentuating them.

There is a perceptive gleam in his glowing red eyes. He knows his size excites you.

He helps you turn over, onto your front. You feel the bed dip as he kneels, and you spread your legs wider, showing him the plug just above your glistening, well-fucked pussy.

“You are proving delightfully willing.” His voice is warm with praise. “And so very… eager.”

He has to hold you up, just drags you up by your waist and pushes back in.

You clench at the intrusion but there is no pain. Only sweet, aching fullness.

Even better when he puts his thumb on the base of the plug and just— pushes. Pulses it into your ass in time with his thrusts while he fucks your pussy.

He slips his arm underneath you, his hand easily spans your chest, covering your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers one and then the other.

You bare your neck to him. His red eyes burn brighter. This act of submission intrigues him.

He moves his hand up, and places it at your neck. Just— holds you there, forcing you to arch your back as he pumps you with measured strokes.

“More… please.”

Thrawn huffs out a low, almost desperate sound, lets his weight over you carry him deeper. On the next stroke, deeper again.

You pant his name over and over, and he encourages you, his voice tender and soft but his words filthy. More…. Yes. Such a tight, sweet pussy, taking me so well. Already so full but greedy for more…

At last he is as deep as he can go, his heavy balls pressed against you. He circles his hips, drawing a gasp from you, because in addition to his cock you can feel his hips press the plug in harder, deeper.

He gives shuddering moans as he begins to thrust into you, as if he’s been holding himself back. His shaft slides fully in and out with ease, still thick and heavy, his balls slapping wetly against your clit.

Thrawn rides you, reams you. He has hold of you by your neck, your back flush against his chest, possessing you completely.

Heat builds in your core. Thrawn stokes it to a blaze. At the same time, his fingers tighten by a degree. Just to remind you. His control is absolute— your breath lighter, shorter— but warm and careful.

He owns your senses. His hand at your waist slips down, finds your clit. All it takes is one little circle of his finger to make you feel— everything.

And your mind blisses out.

You clench around him strongly, back arching away from him as you strain but he keeps you where he wants you.

Pleasure burns brightly through you like a wildfire, searing every nerve and for a moment, there is nothing other than pure sensation. He doesn’t stop when you cry out. He fucks you through it, praise spilling from his lips while he splits you open, enjoying how your tight, slick pussy takes all of the driving force of his cock. He draws it out, with longer, slower strokes. Until you’re whimpering and trembling, raw from overstimulation.

You could have been passed over. He could have pointed to someone else, and you’d have been shipped off to work in one of the factories like all the others.

And yet here you are. Warm and sated just from coming on a big cock and getting told what a good girl you are. The Grand Admiral lets you rest for a few minutes, brings you water, wipes your face with a soft cloth before pulling the plug out with a slick pop. You know what’s next. Your body hums with desire. Lucky.

☆join tag list☆ <- this is the easiest way to make sure your request is recorded, however anyone is also welcome to dm me if they want to be added.

@thrawns-babygirl @vibratingskull @thrawns-teef-weef @aethersecho @exoplorationn @elc3004 @littlecrowtime @twilekchiss @saber-slutt @projectdreamwalker @ele-millennial-weirdo @vaarians @shoe-bag @thrawnspetgoose @nomercyforthewarrior @pb-jellybeans @twincesskorisoka @jewelliffer @cecilyjmorgenstern @mandinlore @bobaprint @bluechiss @andrakass2 @nocturneabyss @khapikat222 @echostastyass @bookipsies @jamiethenerdymonster @starryevermore @sev-on-kamino

#thrawn #thrawn x reader #thrawn x you #thrawn x y/n #grand admiral thrawn #mitth'raw'nuruodo #thrawn fic #thrawn fanfiction #ask #anon ask

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shoutaaizawas · 10 months

Text

↳ aizawa shouta x reader → ❝cared for❞

summary: you are sick but your husband aizawa is always there to take care of you no matter what. word count: 1.4k+ tags/warnings: fluff and comfort a/n: i'm currently sick and my brain is super out of it so i hope this isn't terrible but i wanted to write something. now that im thinking of it i've actually done nanowrimo while i was sick, november isn't a good month for me lol anyways this was supposed to be a simple sick fic but i gave it a little depth. also i lost my taglist so if you want to be on it please message me.

masterlist

You were in denial. It was flu season but you could not possibly be getting a cold. The sore throat, just allergies. The runny nose, just from the cold weather. The fatigue that made you want to lay down forever, just because you had been working a lot.

You were not sick.

Aizawa on the other hand could see it before you had even noticed the symptoms. He was a teacher after all and nothing bred more illness than a school. Hero Academy included. He would suggest you get some extra rest or take something but you refused.

Pain pulsed in your skull, your throat burned and you had a cough that once it started didn’t stop. Not to mention the haze you were in, feeling disoriented and exhausted.

A hand touched your forehead as you lay in bed suffering the moments after waking up. “No fever, that’s a good sign,” Aizawa said sitting down, the weight of him on the bed next to you. “Sore throat?”

“Yeah,” You said, your voice barely working.

“Headache?” His voice was soothing, not too abrasive for your overwhelmed senses.

“Yeah,” It hurt to speak.

“Here’s some water,” He said helping you sit up to take a sip from your large water container you always toted around. You noted that he must have cleaned it out and refilled it since the water was icy.

“Thank you,” You said.

“Why don’t you take a hot shower, and change into your favorite bed clothes while I make you breakfast, yeah?” He said, his hand gently rubbing along your arm.

“Mhm,” You hummed. “Sounds nice.”

“Do you need help getting to the bathroom?” He asked.

“No,” You said sitting up, your head spinning for a moment. “Actually, maybe.”

Aizawa gave a soft small smile at your stubbornness even now. He helped you up, you were able to walk fine you just felt dizzy. He kept his arm around your shoulders just in case you got too dizzy.

“Thank you,” You said once you reached the bathroom, he made sure you were steady before leaving. You turned the shower water on hot before getting in. The warmth of the water did help your congestion and it was soothing. You stood there for way too long enjoying the steam before washing up. By the time you got out, there was a fresh warm towel and your favorite bedclothes folded on the counter. You smiled, Aizawa really spoiled you. Even more so when he knew you weren’t feeling good.

Returning to your bed you got back in, under the fluffy black comforter. You felt better even though taking a shower had been exhausting. Aizawa always knew best even when you didn’t want to admit it.

Aizawa returns with a tray table filled with food. You sit up, making sure the pillows are perfect as he sets down the tray. There’s miso soup with tofu and a bowl of rice as well as a cup of tea and medicine.

“Eat first and then take this medicine, it will help with the symptoms.” He said.

“Thank you, it looks good. I don’t know if I can taste though,” She joked.

“It will make you feel better that’s all that matters.” He said taking a spoonful of the soup before lifting it to your mouth.

If you told a younger version of yourself about this scene, your loving husband doting on you, feeding you soup, and bringing you everything you need while you’re sick. You would be shocked, perhaps even horrified.

For so long you had taken care of yourself through good and bad, you made yourself soup while you were sick. You pushed through it and did what you had to even if it meant passing out on the couch to take a nap in between taking care of yourself. You could never imagine letting someone dote on you to the point of feeding you.

Yet here you were. The journey had been long and not particularly easy. You could still remember the first time you had gotten sick, you denied it. Even as you struggled to stand, your face hot flushed with a fever. You had passed out and Aizawa carried you to bed. Even when you woke you tried to convince him you could get your own medicine and make your own soup. Aizawa had been patient but firm with you.

It had been hard to let someone take care of you but Aizawa made it easy. He was gentle and not condescending. It was so clear that everything he did was out of love, out of concern. It finally clicked when he had gotten sick, you wanted to do everything for him. You felt so helpless, you had wished you could take his pain away, even if it was just a cold.

Aizawa had struggled with being taken care of himself but with your new perspective, you had been able to convince him.

“I can get it myself,” He had said trying to get out of bed. You had pushed him gently back, he was too weak to resist.

“Remember when I was sick and trying to take care of myself?” You had asked. “You refused and took care of me. I still argued it then but now I get it.”

“Get it?” He questioned raising an eyebrow.

“I love you so much, I love taking care of you when you aren’t sick.” You said. “I hate seeing you like this the least I can do is take care of you since I can’t take this pain away.”

Your hand held his cheek, his dark eyes a bit hazy from the exhaustion of being sick but he was listening. “We aren’t alone anymore, we get to take care of each other, and accepting that care is just as much of a show of love as giving the care.”

Aizawa had smiled that warm smile of his and pulled you into a hug that did lead to you getting sick which meant you had to follow your own words by letting him take care of you when you were sick.

It was a process, learning to let someone care for you. He did it even when you weren’t sick, sometimes little things you almost missed like putting gas in your car or getting stuff off your grocery list. He never declared what he was doing looking for praise or fanfare. That didn’t mean you didn’t make a big deal out of it every time.

You did the same for him, the small things that helped daily life but you also loved shopping for him. The last thing Aizawa did was spoil himself. In fact, you weren’t sure you had ever seen him buy himself anything that was a luxury or a novelty. So you had taken it upon yourself to guess what things he might want if he ever did get it thought. You bought him fuzzy slippers with cats on them or a fictional book you thought he would like. Sometimes it was fancier things like cologne or a watch. Eventually, you got good at figuring out things he likes.

After eating your breakfast Aizawa took away the tray, leaving your tea on the bedside table. He returned and closed up the blinds making it dark in the room which made it a lot easier on your sensitive eyes. He crawled into bed with the remote putting on a show you had wanted to start for a while.

Despite how gross you looked and felt Aizawa pulled you in close, resting your head on his chest where you could still watch the show.

"You're gonna get sick," You mumbled against him, not exactly wanting him to move.

"I work at a school, my immune system is strong as it gets." He reassured you.

“If you get tired just sleep, I’ll pause the show.” He said softly, his hand rubbing your temple trying to alleviate the pain of your headache. “You need all the rest you can get.”

“Yes sir.” You said jokingly. You took his other hand in yours squeezing it gently. “Thank you again, for everything.”

“It’s nothing.” He dismissed.

“It’s everything,” You said moving his hand to your lips to press a kiss at the back of his hand. “You might want to wash your hand."

Aizawa laughed, your head moved against his chest.

“I love you,” He said.

“Love you more.” You replied.

#bnha x reader #aizawa x reader #shouta x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #mha x reader #bnha #mha #my writing #shout aizawa #aizawa shouta

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sweetestofchaos · 5 months

Text

Blackthorn Ch 16 | M.YG

A Shift in the Tide - Safe within the palace walls once more, the young royals must deal with an unseen turn of events.

a/n: thank you a million times again and again for @sailoryooons for always taking time out of her busy life to beta this and stroll through my endless thoughts with me. Sometimes, I just need a little hand holding to reach the end lol

a/n 2: Character asks and the taglist for Blackthorn are always open! Minors do NOT interact with my work, please and thank you. Also, this is cross posted on ao3, under the same username sweetestofchaos.

taglist: @thickemadame @loisje123

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

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“Hoseok, please. I do not have the patience for your word games. What has happened in my absence? Why has mother requested an audience at such an hour?”

Hoseok raised to his feet and stared at his friend, his face pinched as the words left his lips in a rattled croak. “T-The Emperor… he is ill.”

In the Princess’ chambers, Ceyeh sat, submerged in the heated waters scented with lavender, chamomile and patchouli. A heavy steam fogged the air, dampening Hyejin and Wheein as they carefully washed the dirt, grime and blood from the Princess’ body. The water was murky, muddled by the filth that was scrubbed off the Princess. Hyejin took her time as she slowly swiped over the tiny cuts that were no more than faint marks that would fade within a few days. Wheein focused on washing the Princess’ hair, taking care to rub a cleansing soap in small sections.

Little by little, the feathers that adorned the Princess’ body started to fall away, gliding on the air smoothly before they touched the water’s surface and melted into nothing. The Princess’ eyes were closed, her lids motionless as Ceyeh allowed for the night's events to break down in her mind. Princess Keena was just below the surface, begging to see the young Prince, but Ceyeh refused. Her mind was torn, at war with a heart that was not truly hers.

Sharpened nails receded and rounded out to a soft tip and the Princess’ body started to sink deeper into the water. Wheein struggled to keep the Princess afloat, worried that she would tug too harshly on the braids.

“We should move her,” Wheein warned. “Ceyeh is giving up her control.”

Hyejin took notice of the Princess’ changing body and agreed. Together, the maids pulled the Princess to the steps of the heated water and placed her in the corner so that the Princess could not move. The two spirits fought for control and Ceyeh relented once the Princess assured her that she would handle the backlash of the night’s events with grace.

Brown eyes fluttered open and Hyejin gasped, “Princess?!”

Hyejin almost tumbled into the water from how quickly she threw her arms around the Princess’ shoulders. Princess Keena winced, her whole body ached and her throat felt raw. She tried to push at Hyejin’s arms but it felt like she was moving through molasses. Feeling the movement of the Princess, Hyejin jerked away with a deep blush on her face.

“Forgive me, Princess,” Hyejin quickly apologized and the Princess nodded her head slowly as more and more of her senses started to come back.

“Are you okay? Is there any pain? Any discomfort?” Wheein questioned as she noticed the Princess’ silence and glassy eyes. Wheein’s words were muffled, wrapped in cotton and submerged in water.

Princess Keena blinked a few times as she tried to clear her blurred vision. The rushing of blood behind her ears started to wane and her heart returned to a relaxed beat.

“E-Everything hurts.”

Wheein rose to her feet and rushed out the wash room while Hyejin continued to carefully help the Princess get comfortable in the water.

Tears streamed down Byulyi’s face as she laid out a new outfit for the Princess to wear while Aga sat in the sitting room with his arms crossed over his chest tightly. Aga jumped to his feet when Wheein ran over to him, her robes soaked with water and smelling sweetly.

“The P-Princess is awake.”

“She has regained control?”

Wheein nodded her head and Aga sighed in relief before he raised an eyebrow. He knew that Wheein had more to say. “She is in pain-”

“Hyungwon will be here once he is finished with the Prince. Keep her as comfortable as you can for now. Wonho and Jooheon know to let him in with no questions.”

As Aga spoke, the main doors opened and Hyungwon rushed in. His robes were crinkled and his usually neat hair was wild, and tossed this way and that as if he had run his hands through it many times. Aga and Wheein both bowed their heads before Wheein grabbed Hyungwon’s medical basket out of the air and motioned for him to follow her.

“The Princess has just regained control. Speak slowly so that she can read your lips if her response time seems delayed,” Aga explained and Hyungwon nodded his head before he disappeared into the washroom.

Aga’s shoulders slumped and he fell back onto the couch, his head held in his hands as relief flooded his system. The Princess was awake and had full control of herself; he did not know the extent of her injuries but he would know soon enough. Aga inhaled deeply, his chest expanded and held his breath for a moment. As he exhaled, Aga lifted his head and sat up right with his elbows resting on his knees. He would wait for Hyungwon’s words and go from there. He saw no point in lamenting over the unknown. He would get to the bottom of tonight's attack and punish all those who had part.

Upon Hyungwon’s arrival, the Princess was dressed in a white satin robe with yellow and orange watercolor flowers along the lower skirt. Princess Keena sat out of the water, her feet still submerged up to her knees as she slowly kicked her feet back and forth.

Hyungwon bowed deeply upon seeing the Princess and she bowed her head with a tired smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“I am pleased to see you awake, your Highness.”

“Thank you for arriving at such haste, Hyungwon.”

Hyungwon kneeled beside the Princess and Wheein set the basket of medical supplies down next to him. Hyungwon began his exam under the careful watch of the Princess maids and Princess Keena answered all his questions to the best of her ability. Her memory of the night was fully intact, there were no holes in her story. She knew of the Prince’s injury and spoke of it to which Hyungwon steered the conversation to another topic.

“There seems to be no permanent damage. Your wounds will heal in time and there will be no scarring from the attack.”

The handmaids were pleased by the news and Hyungwon continued. “Your muscles are in pain due to overuse, I was informed that Ceyeh was in control and you were shifted for quite some time.”

“I have shifted before and never felt such pain.”

“You were not pushed to such levels of self prevention. It was life or death, Princess. Ceyeh and Agust protected both you and his Highness just sort of their true selves.”

“And Yoongi? How is my Prince?”

The familiarity and desperation in her words made Hyungwon freeze. It was not Hyungwon’s place to tell the Princess of Prince Yoongi’s state of wellbeing and yet his body moved on its own accord. He grabbed hold of the Princess’ hands and held them gently as he examined her fingers and palms for wounds he knew were not there.

“His Highness was treated by my own hands and will make a speedy recovery in his own time.”

Hyungwon patted the Princess’ hands and gave them a tight squeeze.

“My advice would be to stay by his side in these trying times. Though he is alive…” Hyungwon’s voice trailed off as he thought back to the Prince’s injured eye. Hyungwon was sure that the Prince had lost the vision of his right eye but without a proper exam, it was just speculation.

“Hyungwon?” The Princess’ voice was soft yet firm as she squeezed his hands.

“His Highness will need you to find his peace; guide him well.”

Hyungwon spoke for the last time and bowed deeply before he departed, leaving behind soothing creams to ease the fatigue of the Princess’ muscles and a herbal tea mixture for her mind. He had the forethought to ward off possible night terrors to give the Princess the utmost peace.

Wheein and Hyejin smoothed the soothing balm onto the Princess’ skin and placed a new robe, black with gold and pink tiger lilies along the back, on her before they led her to her chambers. Byulyi’s eyes were red and puffy from crying and when she saw the Princess she had started to cry again. Princess Keena comforted the maid and encouraged her to help her dress to take her mind off what happened.

Byulyi dressed the Princess in an olive green satin sleep dress that covered her shoulders halfway and flowed down into a rounded neckline with beige stitching that spelled out an ancient prayer for sweet dreams and restful sleep. The sleep dress reached all the way down, almost covering her feet and was the same length all around. It made the Princess smile to wear the sleep dress, it was from her homeland and Byulyi knew she would seek that comfort.

Matching green slippers were placed on her feet and the maids dried the Princess’ hair with cemetan stones before they tucked the braids into a neat bun on top of the Princess’ head. A green wrap with beige and taupe dahlias was carefully wrapped around the bun and twisted to make a beautiful headpiece. Byulyi did not place any meori-kkoji in the wrap since Princess Keena requested they be left out. The nighttime look was simple yet elegant, a style fit for a Queen to be.

“Is Aga waiting for me?” Princess Keena yawned behind her hand as the three maids nodded their heads and she stood from the seat in front of her vanity. She headed out to the sitting room with sure steps, her head held high as her eyes fell onto Aga.

Upon hearing the footfalls of the Princess, Aga rose to his feet and placed his fist over his heart as the Princess came into view. Yellow eyes searched for any hint of pain, there were small scratches that wouldn’t leave any marks on the Princess’ face but aside from that Aga saw nothing. His chest slowly loosened as air flowed into his lungs, it was easier to breathe and the Princess smiled.

“Forgive me, Aga. It was foolish to roam the town in secret.”

Aga felt his ire as it sat heavy on his tongue, it poisoned his heart but he knew from the regret in the Princess’ eyes that she had meant her words. Aga’s shoulders slumped as he fell to his knees and caught himself on the edge of the couch with a loud sigh.

“Your Father would have my head if anything were to ever happen to you on my watch.”

“Agust and Ceyeh protected me.”

“They should not have had to come out at all, Princess.”

Aga’s voice was firm as he grunted his words and Princess Keena nodded her head in agreement. She slowly sat beside Aga and carefully placed her hands over top of his silently. Aga said nothing as he turned his wrists, his palms now facing upward as he wrapped his fingers around the Princess’ much smaller hands.

“I am glad you are safe but our enemies wish for your downfall. Do not be so foolish again.”

“You have my word, Aga. I swear it to those before us.”

Aga squeezed the Princess’ hands tightly just once before he released her and stood to his full height. He offered a hand to help her up and the Princess’ brows pulled together in a silent question.

“Come. Her Royal Majesty has requested your presence.”

“At this hour…does she know of our attack?”

Aga shook his head and cleared his throat before he spoke up, “This pertains to a different matter; one of high priority. I know you must be tired-”

The Princess waved off Aga’s words and stood with his help as she placed her hand in his, “Nonsense, Aga. Lead the way.”

The halls leading to the Emperor’s chambers were lined with guards who bowed their heads low at the sight of the Princess. Aga walked with his head held high, while Mingi and Chan guarded the rear with the Princess in the center. Both guards regarded the Princess with stony faces while their eyes quivered in worry. Princess Kenna offered a silent apology for causing such a panic in the palace with a subtle bow of her head and it was accepted without any words needed.

The footfalls of the Princess echoed softly in the hall, her green slippers peaked out from underneath her skirt with each step. She kept her own head raised high, her face impassive as she looked ahead and focused on the middle of Aga’s shoulders. Movement from in front caught the Princess’ attention and she was surprised to see Hoseok standing outside of the Emperor's rooms.

Hoseok bowed his head and gave a small acknowledgement to Aga and the others before he offered a relieved smile to the Princess. “I am pleased to see you in good health, Princess.”

“Forgive me for worrying you needlessly, Hoseok.”

Hoseok nodded his head with a tight smile and motioned to the door that led into the Emperor’s chambers. “They are waiting for you, Princess.”

The Princess looked to Aga for clarification as to what Hoseok meant by they but Aga simply ignored the silent question and moved towards the guards at the door. “Princess Keena is here upon Her Royal Highness’ request for an audience.”

As the guards opened the doors, Princess Keena felt her heart start to beat quickly in her chest. The air was heavy. Thick with the sharp scent of medical herbs and sickness. The Princess willed her legs to move and slowly entered the Emperor’s chambers. The doors closed behind her and she jumped at the thud that rang out, announcing her presence. The Emperor’s sitting room was beautiful and warm. Brown, red and gold were illuminated in the soft glow of multiple sunstones hidden within burgundy paper lanterns and sconces that sat on the walls.

There were a few servants that sat on the floor, knees bents underneath them as they waited to be called upon. They kept their heads bowed in a show of respect to the Princess and she quietly followed a clear path to the Emperor’s bedchambers. She walked through two large moon doors that opened into a wide office and dining room before she came before a set of large dark wooden doors. There was a hand carved dragon soaring in the sky, painted in gold with red rubies for eyes that acted as the handles of the door.

The Princess wasn’t sure what she would find behind the closed doors but she forced herself to push them open. The Empress was waiting and she didn’t want to worry her any longer. Sage, basil, ginger and something bitter like rotten grapefruit and copper assaulted the Princess’ nose and her lips pinched tightly into a thin line. She knew the scent all too well and carefully stepped into the room.

The room was split into two sections separated by two large wooden partitions with depictions of a mountain and sky painted on the hanji paper. They were cut into alternating waves so, where one was tall the other was shorter to create the illusion of multiple mountains. It was beautiful and beyond them, curtains of translucent white hung from the ceiling in soft layers with gleaming golds and reds in between. The wooden floor was dark and glossy, covered by an elegant red area rug trimmed in golden thread and tassels.

As the Princess walked farther into the room, she heard voices that spoke too softly to hear clearly. She pushed forward and soon came before the bed of the Emperor, it was enormous, even by royal standards. A circular futon with a thick mattress covered in thin blankets of puce and burgundy. Gold pillows both round and long with white and black embroidery, littered the space; in the center lay Emperor Chungho. His usually pale skin had a grey hue to it, his copper eyes were hazy and his signature updo was undone. His black hair hung low past his shoulders and just brushed the bedding. Gone were the flashy robes, in their place an ice white robe with wide sleeves and shimmering gold threading covered the Emperor's body.

Empress Eunkyung sat at his bedside, her colorful robes replaced with a pale cream cross collar blouse with a three inch brocade collar that disappeared into a matching pleated skirt with green, blue and tan colors that created an ocean scene. A single cream belt wrapped around her waist, thin and shiny that stood out against the simple fabric. She wore a celadon robe over top with white and gold dragons reaching for one another on the sleeves. Her blond hair was pulled into a low bun that sat at the back of her neck and some strands framed her face, hiding her swollen eyes from view.

Across from her, the Prince sat motionless. His head was hung low with his hair falling in his face as a curtain, hidden from all. His robes were black with gold stitching, a stark contrast to the brighter tones within the room and the Princess thought that his attire matched the scents in the air. She stared at the Prince for a moment longer, noticed the way his hands were clapped together on the bed, his fingers locked tightly around his father’s hand, knuckles cut and slightly red.

“Sit down, dear girl.”

The Emperor’s voice pulled the Princess’ eyes back onto himself and she was meant with the kindest of tired smiles. Empress Eunkyung patted the seat beside her and as the Princess moved to sit, she felt the Prince’s eyes on her. The Empress pulled Princess Keena close the moment she sat down and hugged her tightly. Sure hands petted down her hair and smoothed over her back as the Empress rocked from side to side.

“Never do that again!” She scolded, tears heavy in her voice. “Never…never do that again.”

Princess Keena felt tears burn her eyes, how long had it been since she was held in such a manner? The Prince’s embrace was warmth and strong, a fortress that kept her heart safe but here in the Empress’ arms…the Princess’ heartache for the touch of her own mother.

“Dearheart, you are crushing the poor girl.”

Empress Min slowly loosened her arms around the Princess and pulled back to get a good look at her face. “You are unharmed, child?”

Princess Keena nodded her head, “I am unharmed-” her eyes flickered over to the Prince and she felt her blood freeze at the sight of white bandages on his right eye.

The Prince felt her gaze and when he raised his head to meet her stare, his left eye was bloodshot and puffy. There was a twitch that pulled at the corner of his lips and in the blink of an eye, the Princess was in his arms. The young royals clung to each other, the Prince holding the Princess tightly in his arms as his tears soaked the fabric around her chest. Soft hands smoothed through his short blond hair and Princess Keena pressed a million kisses to the crown of his head.

They were on top of each other, the Princess held firmly in the Prince’s lap - a sight that was forbidden outside of their chambers. Empress Min smiled at the sight and the Emperor felt his own lips pull into a wide grin. Young love; it reminded them both of happier times. Princess Keena cupped the Prince’s face in her hands gently and forced him upward so that she could see his face up close. The bandages around his right eye were damp with his tears but the moisture seemingly disappeared little by little. The wraps were made from danbannite cloth, a high grade cotton material that is infused with danbannite dust, a native stone to the south that was found to absorb moisture quickly.

“Your eye-”

“A flesh wound. Only a minor inconvenience for now.”

The Prince easily lied to spare the Princess’ feelings and he leaned in, pressing their foreheads together. Their noses and lips were so close yet so far apart.

“Forgive me, my gem? It was foolish-”

Princess Keena placed a finger against the Prince’s lips and shook her head, “Hush now, my Prince. None of that. It was no one’s fault.”

Prince Yoongi sighed against the finger on his lips and kissed it softly, “I put your life in danger.”

“That is the curse of royal blood.”

From the bed, Emperor Min cleared his throat and the young royals quickly pulled apart. The Princess moved to stand but Prince Yoongi tightened his hold around her waist and soaked in her warmth. Seated in the Prince’s lap sideways before the Prince’s parents, Princess Keena’s face heated quickly. Empress Min reached for her husband’s hand and squeezed it lightly before she spoke.

“We are disappointed in your actions tonight. The situation could have been a lot worse had not your animal spirits taken over to protect you both.” Her warm eyes were a little harsher than normal as she spoke but the fire was dim, subdued in a way that the young couple had never seen before.

“As we sit on the throne before our people, we have a duty to uphold,” Empress Min continued to speak. “We are the strength of our people and they look to us for guidance in uncertain times…”

Emperor Min sat up a little more in his bed and held his head high as he took over the conversation. He studied his son and his soon-to-be daughter with dark eyes. The skin around his jaw was taut and pale. There was a sickness behind his brave face and the Princess felt as the Prince’s blunt nails dug into the fabric of her robe.

“As Emperor, it is my duty to the people to see that they are always taken care of and safe. It is to ensure our empire remains an unmoving force and beacon of hope.” He looked into his son’s eyes and melted just a little at the fondness he felt as memories of the past flashed in his mind. His throat felt dry and as he inhaled, a wet gurgle came from deep within his chest before he covered his mouth and fell into a coughing fit.

Empress Min rubbed the back of the Emperor's free hand soothingly and the Princess quickly reached beside her to the water basin that sat next to the bed and ladled a cup of water. The Prince remained silent as he watched his father, his pillar of strength and stability come back to himself as he sipped at his water and breathed slowly.

Emperor Min cleared his throat and sighed, “The sun is setting and my time within its warmth is coming to an end.”

Yoongi had known the moment he smelled his father, death was an unmistakable stench and it lingered in the air with a thick haze of blood. Likewise, the Princess had guessed that the Emperor was sick but to assume he was dying, she had forbidden the thought. The Prince’s warmth pressed against her body felt hotter, and blunt nails had started to sharpen in distress. Princess Keena placed her hands over top of the Prince’s and pulled them to rest against the flat her stomach.

“Is there no cure for your ailment?” Yoongi questioned, his eyes wide as he stared at his father.

Emperor Min shook his head slowly and licked his lips, “There is not but Hyungwon has assured me that he will be able to make my time left-”

“Have we reached out to a neighboring land? There are great doctors and magic in the treetop village just-”

“Yoongi-”

“No,” Yoongi’s voice was shaken, grumbled with unshed tears as he clung to the Princess. “Father, we have to tr-”

“Enough!”

Emperor Min’s voice echoed throughout the room, his eyes were molten brown as he stared at his son. The vein in his temple ticked harshly in time with his heart and he looked tired. The Prince’s vision blurred as he watched the fight leave his father’s body and his chest started to ache.

“Hyungwon has given us a timeframe, it isn’t exact but it is enough to prepare.” Empress Min smiled softly at her husband as she spoke and turned her attention to the young royals across from her. “Before Chungho leaves us, we will host your coronation and you will take your rightful place upon the throne.”

“Mother-”

“It is my wish, Yoongi. I want to see you both on the throne before I leave this world.”

“Father…”

Emperor Min’s nose started to itch and he pinched it between his thumb and index finger before he sniffled and cleared his throat. “This is my last gift to you, will you accept it?”

The Emperor's words hung heavy in the air, hope and desperation intertwined so tightly that it was hard to refuse. The Prince stared at his father for a long while in silence before he inhaled silently and rested his forehead against the Princess’ shoulder blade, his face now hidden. Tears fell from his left eye and the Princess felt a bittersweet sorrow seep into her skin.

The Prince held her tightly and she stroked the length of his fingers back and forth with the tips of her own. It was a silent comfort, the only thing she could offer the Prince to show her support. If he agreed to take the throne, she would stand by his side and face whatever was to come their way.

“My son, I know this is an unfair request. You may feel unfit to rule at such an age but you have surrounded yourself with fine council. You will have the support of the Queen Dowager, your Queen Mother. Agust will guide you well enough in times of uncertainty. It is in a dragon’s nature to live a life of splendor and power.”

Emperor Min spoke with such convection that no one argued against his words. The Emperor was dying and in his place, his only heir, Prince Yoongi had to stand. The Prince inhaled a shaky breath and tried to clear the tears from his throat before he rapidly blinked away any unshed tears. He lifted his face and stared at his parents from over the Princess’ shoulder. They looked so much older than he remembered. There were fine lines and wisps of grey, their eyes weren’t as bright. The Prince knew what he had to do and with a clear conscience he tightened his hold on the Princess and nodded his head.

“As you wish, Father. I will lead this kingdom proudly in your place. To the ancient dragons who came before and watch over us, I swear it.”

“Thank you, Yoongi.”

Empress Min looked pleased and offered a tender smile to the young royals before she pressed her lips into a tight line. She shared a silent look with her husband and spoke up. “In light of tonight’s events there must be an investigation. All those who are found guilty in aiding your excursion outside of the palace walls will be punished.”

“Your Majesty-”

Empress Min’s eyes flashed gold as the Princess tried to interrupt her. “There is no room for such blanket disregard for your status. Errors such as tonight, through no fault of your own, must be handled properly. There is an informant within the walls and we will find them.”

Princess Keena’s eyes widen at the news of an informant and she sinks into the Prince’s arms. She knows her attendants well, they would never betray her or the Prince. They were attacked on a whim, it wasn’t planned. Even while wearing basic garb, the Princess stood out because of her skin tone and accent. It was clear to anyone that she was from a foreign land.

“The orders have already been issued. Princess, your handmaids and guards will be held in the cells until they can be questioned. If they are found guilty, they will be put to death for treason.”

The Princess’ body stiffened at those words but she forced herself to ask the only question on her mind. “And if they are innocent?”

Empress Min stared at the Princess and took in the rigidness of her back and the way her nails seemed to bite into the Prince’s wrists. The young royal was scared and though it was cruel, the Empress thought to herself that it was a needed emotion as she spoke clearly, “No one is innocent in this ordeal, Princess. Your safety as well as the Prince’s was put at risk. For their negligence the lot of them will be whipped and flogged.”

Soon after, the Prince and Princess emerged from the Emperor’s chambers, arm in arm. The Prince’s face was puffy and the Princess’ eyes were tinted red. Hoseok, Aga and the rest of the Princess’ guards were not in sight. New guards that she didn’t know the names of, stood before her and the Princess pressed herself closer into the Prince’s side.

The new guards didn’t point out how pitiful the royals looked and followed them back towards their chambers. Princess Keena’s hand slipped into the Prince’s as they came to her door and the Prince laced their fingers together before they walked right past the door. New guards stood out front of his chambers and he led the Princess inside.

“You still keep your post no farther than here,” the Prince growled to the new guards as three of them followed into his room. They moved about the chambers as a whole and checked for any sign of a threat before they allowed the Prince to take the Princess away to his bed. Prince Yoongi slammed the doors shut, the bang loud and hard enough to rattle the walls before he turned to the Princess and watched her fall apart silently.

The Princess had her arms wrapped around herself, her head ducked and she sat on the edge of the bed with her legs pressed so tightly together. The Prince ran a hand through his hair and licked his lips. He pulled his thumb to his lips and started to gnaw at the nail bed as he thought of Hoseok being whipped for something he had no part of. He thought of Aga who had only stayed behind in the Min Empire to teach their soldiers and protect the Princess. It didn’t sit well with the Prince, none of them deserved to be hurt for his immature actions. He should have thought more in advance. He should have paid heed to the consequences of his actions.

“Y-Yoongi….”

The Prince’s mind shut off and he rushed to the Princess. He dropped to his knees before her, the pain a minor afterthought as the plush rug gave way to his weight. He cupped her hands in his and pressed his lips to her fingertips.

Her tears splashed against the fabric of her robe and the Prince shook his head. “No, no, my gem. No more tears. Hush now, my gem. Please?”

The Prince’s words were spoken with a soft urgency that flooded the Princess’ mind and suffocated her endless thoughts. Her body shook with heavy soul clenching sobs and Yoongi crawled onto the bed. He pulled her into his arms and laid with the Princess in his arms as she cried for her friends.

“Forgive me. I-It was foolish of me to take you outside of the walls. I-I…”

The Prince didn’t know what to say as his own eyes burned with tears. Everyone would be hurt because of him and here he was holding the one person he never meant to hurt the most. Prince Yoongi vaguely recalled a conversation he had with Hoseok, Namjoon and Seokjin about the possibility of a spy within the walls but it was one he dismissed. Now as he held the Princess he wondered if he should have taken the conversation more seriously. His ignorance and pride had cost him the Princess’ happiness and the blood of those closest to them both. The Prince would spend the rest of his life making up for his wrongdoings, to the ancient dragons who came before and watch over them, he swore it.

#yoongi fic #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #daechwita!yoongi #dragon!yoongi #bts fantasy au #fic: blackthorn ch 16 #soc yoongi

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ly-art · 2 months

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Can't believe I'm at chapter 20 now with my Solavellan fic!!

I updated my fanfic again, chapter 20 plays in Crestwood and while we have things out of the game, I put some more drama in the end of it, because apparently I can't without drama lol a little snippet is attached!!

Amatisha stared at her hand, red blood trickling onto her lap, the scent of iron filling her nostrils. Her lips and the skin beneath her nose felt wet, the taste of iron in her mouth as she licked it away, thinking it was rain or sweat. Time accelerated, and with it came the pain—agonizing, searing pain. Dizziness overtook her, and through it all, she heard a terrible howl, so pain-stricken it sounded like someone being butchered. Only seconds later, did she realize the howl was hers, the pain driving her mad. Unable to keep herself upright, she didn't notice a nimble templar escaping her wrath. He slashed at her as she fell, everything merging into an indescribable sensation. All she could do was wait for the killing blow, her body refusing to obey her commands. Yet... she waited and waited, but it never came. With sheer willpower, she forced her eyes open. In front of her stood Solas, holding a glaive that shimmered ethereally as if it wasn't from this world, piercing the templar. Blood pooled around their feet, seeping into Amatisha's clothes. Solas looked like a god of wrath, his sharp eyes turning to her, fury crackling within. With elegant expertise, he withdrew the glaive from the templar, who collapsed to the ground, dead, his eyes lifeless and staring at the sky. The glaive vanished in a beautiful violet light as Solas dismissed it. Even Dorian stared in disbelief, recognizing this was far beyond a knight enchanter’s weapon—far more developed, superior. No one dared move as Solas’s snarl echoed through the clearing. "Are you out of your mind?" he whispered, his voice a volcano ready to erupt. He crouched down, cupping her face, forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes roved over her body, checking for any other injuries. "Foolish," he breathed. "What a foolish thing to do. Using the mark to amplify your magic without understanding the consequences. You risked not only your own life but the lives of everyone present. Itha fra ma." His contained rage threatened to surface. Gently, he released her face and touched her scorched hand. She whimpered, tears collecting in the corners of her eyes. The pain was excruciating, her mind going blank. "You never learn, do you? This time, you used it out of worry for *us*? Why do you always want to punish yourself like this? Must you always act so recklessly? Do you want to die?" Amatisha couldn't stop her lip from trembling and just shrugged. Words from her past echoed in her mind, Istimaethoriel's voice, sweet and venomous. *Worthless. Monster. Selfish. Misbehaving bitch. No one loves you. No one wants you. You are only a tool to be discarded. No one wants to see what's beneath that pretty shell because only darkness and filthiness await those who dare. No one would grieve your death. It would be better if you were gone. Why don't you relieve us of your existence?*

#dragon age #solas #dai #fanfic #lavellan #solasmance #da fanfic #dragon age fanfiction #inquisitor lavellan #solavellan #solas x female lavellan #solas x inquisitor #ao3 writer #ao3 #ao3 fanfic

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merv606 · 7 months

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i kinda see daniel as growing increasingly shy as the thought of intimacy with terry becomes a reality and grows ever nearer. he seems…not exactly uncomfortable with his body/the way he looks, but not super confident, especially compared to terry who he sees as handsome and being in great shape. daniel seems like he can’t see his own appeal, and is not too happy with how he currently looks (not like himself with the longer hair etc.). anyway, that “first time” i can see daniel wanting to either keep as many clothes on as possible or staying under the covers all lights out lol. i doubt terry will comply but i’m sure daniel will try lmao.

Listen here!

You can’t just waltz into my inbox with such violence!

Oblivious Daniel™️ - my beloved.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

He can sense the sudden tenseness in the muscles of the smaller body below him.

Although they have yet to consumate this new side of their relationship in the biblical sense, Terry has been enjoying Daniel allowing more and more intimate touching.

Tonight is no exception, expect he’s getting further than ever, a hand up Daniel’s shirt, his boy whimpering as he thumbs across his nipples.

So very NSFW

His hips had jumped at the touch, his cock, while not as hard as Terry’s yet had ended up grinding into the older man’s thigh.

“Can we …. Never mind.”

“Tell me,” Terry directs. Sometimes Daniel needs things coaxed out of him. Although, right now that means stopping what he was doing, kissing down a tempting neck, he can’t be too upset. It simply means his boy feels safe enough with Terry to do this; that he knows the older man will get it out of him. This is truly a gift that Terry treasures.

Terry had been helping his boy raise his arms to help Daniel get his shirt off, those tempting little nipples of his almost Terry’s to look upon and taste - finally.

“Can we have the lights off?” the smaller man rushes out.

Absolutely not, Terry thinks.

He was not expecting that but something must have prompted this shyness. His boy is modest, which only makes revealing each inch of skin more appealing, but he is modest where he simply need not be.

“Whatever for?”

“Come on Terry. You know why.”

At a loss, because for once, he doesn’t know what his boy means.

“I honestly can’t think of why. I finally have you. I wish to see you.”

“Come on, you,” he gestures to Terry, “really want to see me.”

And This?

This Terry will not stand for.

Not now.

Not ever.

For anyone to imply Daniel is less than absolutely perfect - even if it is the man himself.

Not just that but to imply that Terry’s desire is not something that knows any bounds is not only unacceptable but down right insulting,

“You doubt my desire for you?”

“What no …. “ If there is one thing Daniel has no doubt of it’s that. Everything they endured it because of Terry’s want for him. Even if he didn’t know that, it’s also poking him in the thigh.

“Well then why would you think I’d want to have you any other way but being able to see you - now that I have you in our bed, about to make love to you?”

He huffs looking away, but Terry gently but firmly turns his head.

“Look at me.”

He does, but only because he can feel the grip tighten when he tries to pull away - a shade below painful. Daniel was the only one Terry ever gave warnings too.

“I’ve been very patient with you baby, haven’t I?”

“I know,” he sighs out.

“No, that’s not what I mean. I finally get to see you. Have you. Would you deny me that after everything I’ve done for you? For us?”

A kiss to his hand to gentle the reprimand.

“I am grateful for that, I am. You’ve been more patience than most, but it’s …. It’s only been Amanda for the last twenty years …” he trails off, self deprecating smile in place.

Is his boy actually worried that he could disappoint Terry?!!

“and I’m not even sure ……” he can’t meet Terry’s eye, and he finally is allowed to free his face from Terry’s grasp, looking away instantly.

There lies not quite the heart of the matter, Terry knows that much.

While on his mind it’s not what is bothering him.

He’ll not have Daniel tonight - not in the way he truly wants - but that day will come, and soon, it’s just going to need work.

His boy is a virgin to that type of love and Terry is a lot to take - for anyone.

And take him Daniel will, but only after Terry knows he can handle it. Handle it and find pleasure in it.

And for that to happen, he will have to be well prepared, and he will be, by Terry’s mouth and fingers, maybe even some plugs of various sizes he can wear around to get used to something large inside him, taking up space, to get him to be really open enough. Some discomfort will be expected though, as he adjusts to Terry having him in such a manner, as Terry knows this will be a regular need of his that Daniel will have to fulfil, but he will be taught, like everything else, what he needs to do,

He knows his boy will love it, and if need be, for whatever reason, of not that in time, he will come to love it.

But he doesn’t foresee the latter happening because Terry will see to it that the first time he opens his boy up on his cock, it will be more than enjoyable for them both.

After he takes Daniel in that manner, he needs his boy to willingly spread for the next time, and the time after that, and after that, and that.

Because once Terry has a taste of that which he has been craving, like an addict, he knows that after he will allow nothing to deprive him of what he craves.

His boy already knows this though - that Terry won’t be inside him, not tonight that is. Terry had hoped that assuring Daniel of that would help his nerves.

While he undoubtedly does have apprehension about that, Terry sees now, where the true insecurity tonight lies.

“I want to see you.”

Daniel opens his mooith.

“I will see you. Nothing is forbidden from me, darling. Not where you’re concerned.”

Daniel nods, and then, bless him, he tries to go under the covers.

While he allows his boy to have his way for the small things, on this Terry will not budge. Daniel will bend to fit him. In more way than one.

Terry walks to the bed, and they’re at a perfect height now, between his boy resting on the bed, promoting himself up on his elbows as Terry nears.

“I want you to touch my cock.”

A blush high up on his cheeks, his eyes darting to the obvious bulge in Terrys pants.

He does as told, sitting up on the edge of the bed, feeling him through the thin material.

“Do you feel that? How hard I am for you ….”

Daniel’s hand works the cock through the material.

“Because of you,” Terry says, a hand under his chin so his boy can’t look away - from Terry - from this.

Daniel looks up at the older man.

“Now, take it out.”

He reaches in taking Terry’s cock out as directed, and now that it’s in hand, he hesitates, not quite sure what to do, and the clear inexperience is driving Terry crazy.

“Do you see? How hard you make me?”

Daniel nods, biting his lip, his thumb rubbing across the head of Terry’s cock.

Curious, he draws his thumb into his mouth to taste the clear liquid and before he knows it, he ends up naked from the waist down on their bed, Terry fully clothed with just his cock out.

“Spread your legs now … want to see if that hole is as pretty as the rest of you.”

“Terry,” he whines.

“Put your feet flat to the bed, knees up now and the. let them fall open.”

“That’s good.”

Terry lifts Daniel’s cock gently, with a sort of reverence, which is at odds to the reason why - so his hole is more visible.

“Hold yourself open for me.”

Terry means for his boy to hold his ass open, but Daniel’s hands go to the back of his thighs, drawing his legs back and close to his chest.

“Good boy,” Terry praises, knowing the reaction that will illicit, not surprised when he hears Daniel whine, exactly what he was expecting.

Never disappointing, his boy.

Once day he’ll film this - he probably won’t let his boy know though.

He wants to get Daniel in his lap, get his shirt off to lick and suck at his chest, the nipples always seemingly peaked and visible through whatever he seems to be wearing, driving Terry mad but he know show easily he becomes overwhelmed - in the face of desire like this - desire this pure and all consuming.

He can’t wait for his boy to be bouncing on his cock though, see how those soft little handfuls of his bounce and move with him.

For now though.

“Hands and knees for me.”

“Terry,” he starts, wearily looking to Terry’s cock.

“I won’t put it inside, baby. I know you’re not ready for that,” he says. “Yet,” Terry adds. His boy has to get comfortable with the idea that soon, it will be.

“Roll over for me though.”

Spreading his cheeks, “absolutely gorgeous, Danny - you have no idea sweetheart.”

“Keep them open for me.”

Holding his cock he runs the head up and down his crack, concentrating on the furled muscle of his entrance.

“Can you really feel it now? How fucking hard you make my cock?”

“Yes,” Daniel moans out, griping his cheeks harder, his fingers turning near white and he struggles to keep himself on such open display for the older man.

“Don’t ever hide yourself from me - ever again,” he growls, a hand in brown hair, pulling his back, the column of his throat tight and smooth, Terry watching as he swallows.

“Don’t ever imply that you are not the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

The wet noises as Terry fists himself faster and faster.

Terry can feel his balls drawing up already.

“Play with your hole for me.”

“I … “

“Just rub your finger over it for me.”

It’s too dry, but then Terry spits, and Daniel is clumsy, clearly not used to anything near his ass, let alone on his cute little hole. He clearly doesn’t know how to touch himself there properly, how to make it feel good, but he’s trying, for Terry.

It may be hotter than if Daniel knew what he was doing - hotter than Daniel being able to be three fingers deep in his own ass - fingering himself for Terry.

These awkward little movements like he’s both embarrassed at being on display, being made to touch his hole for the older man, and like he’s almost afraid to touch himself there.

A warm splash of cum, and a deep groan, like a wounded animal, and then Terry is using his cum to wet his boy’s ass further, his fingers replacing Daniel’s. His fingertips glide over it and fuck, Daniel did not think this would feel good - that his asshole would be this sensitive. Fuck, it feels so much better with Terry doing it.

A large hand grips his cock and before Daniel realizes it, he too is coming, shooting into the bed below.

Rolling him onto his back, he takes in the sight of his boy, limp with pleasure, his cock softening.

How could this not be the most gorgeous thing Terry has ever seen?

Next time he’s going to fuck Daniel in front of a mirror.

Prove it to him.

#ask #I got an ask 🤩#cobra kai #daniel larusso #karate kid #terry silver #silverusso #silverrusso #mercy is a sharp knife

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astorythatwritesitself · 2 years

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Re-intro time? Re-intro time

About Me & This Blog:

• Paine. Queer, 30, any pronouns. I follow back from dr-paine; and you'll never guess what my AO3 username is.

• Writing for 20+ years in some capacity

• Genre of choice is Fantasy. (High, low, slice of life or ungodly horror, mixed with sci-fi or the most classic Medieval sword and sorcery bullshit, I just need a touch, even if only implied, of magic.) I don't delve much into NSFW but it may come up; in any case: please only follow if you're 18+, and treat this blog with the mindset of 'creator chose not to use archive warnings'.

• I crave interaction, especially via tag/ask games - seriously. I reblog a lot of them. Do Not Hesitate. (And I always try to send an ask if you reblog any from me!)

• Hobbyist writer - I'm not aiming to be published, but I do want to improve my skills and eventually like... 'win a NaNo' in the sense of writing a complete, longform story one of these days. But also having fun is a priority, and ADHD + work is a cruel mistress, so I'll jump between WIPs on a whim, or just. Drop shit for months on end lol.

Vague List of Active Projects

While I have a ton of ideas, these are the ones that actually have like... any sort of substance to them, whether it's actual words or just a solid outline + desire to work on it. Each will eventually get a dedicated links/resource post, but for now, here's the basics!

Relentless As The Tide

(Mass Effect fics (roughly) following canon events/characters)

Adrian Shepard has been primed for heroism her entire life. Her first chance ended in a tragedy, one neither she nor the Alliance has ever properly owned up to. Saren's betrayal and the beacon's vision offer her the chance to atone for her failure at Akuze, and she'll do everything in her power to do so - even (and especially) if it kills her in the process.

Or so she believes - but uncovering the truth means looking for allies, and the more she gathers, the harder it becomes to believe that her death should - or can - be the end; and that perhaps heroism is just a means of distraction from confronting her own demons.

Unnamed Pokemon Project

(Loose follow through/retelling of Pokemon: Soul Silver)

Giovanni Rossi, former leader of the Viridian City pokemon gym, has confessed to heading the infamous Rocket organization, whose poaching and illegal trade has devestated the Kanto ecosystem for the past twenty years. However, he claims it was all for a good cause - just prior to founding Rocket, Giovanni had been part of a team trying to create artificial pokemon... and their most viable subject escaped. Rocket existed for the sake of tracking down and eventually overpowering this creature, but now... well, he wishes those in the Kanto and Johto regions the best of luck.

Following a break in at the New Bark Town lab, an assistant to Professor Elm - a reclusive young man named Linden - tracks down the suspect, only to find it's none other than Silver Rossi, Giovanni's own son. The boy claims he wants to take down the creature his father helped create and clear his own name from the scandal... and Linden has reasons of his own that make him want to see how things play out, even if it means he must shadow Silver's journey by embarking on one of his own.

Unnamed OC Project

(Original fantasy work)

In a world of faded magic, Elora Ryba cares little for talk of soon-to-come saviors or the sightings of dragons. No, she has other things on her mind - return to the town she was forced to leave over ten years ago, and steal its most precious treasure. And, ideally, marry her, as Elora promised that night she was forced to flee.

Which is why Elora's spent the past month searching for a priest corrupt enough to join a pirate's crew, but not corrupt (or worse, moral) enough to turn her in, and she thinks she's finally found one.

And the big list of fandoms/shit I like!

#writeblr #writeblr intro #hi i have a lot of emotions over lizards

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blackstarchanx3new · 1 year

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FSR Rambles 10 fingers in the aaaaa-

I don't let up on the fucking Vidow. The entire fandom has to just cope with the fact I'm a disastrous weirdo stinking up their perfect pure fandom, they cry themselves to sleep at the cryptid that stalks at the edges their fandom.

Weep you disgusting filthy bastards.

I bet you salivate at the idea of Vio's breast milk in your slutty coffee.

Lol I guess he fell asleep reading.

Shadow makes a very sinister face considering the goofy ass thing he decides to do with the sleeping Vio.

Hah. Vio screaming his lungs out got a kick out of me while drawing.

Shadow forgot Hylian's sleep for a reason.

He's just waiting for Vio to call him a moron, which we know again is because of Vaati and Gannon abusing this poor man.

Shadow's utterly shocked Vio doesn't have a single thing to berate him over hah.

Vio's so tired he just wants to sleep.

Shadow's feeling nervous to actually like, get cozy with Vio in this context.

Despite his seeming confidence the dude is insecure.

He is HESITANT to trust Vio to some degree, he's having second thoughts about his actions.

Vio didn't even SAY anything about the kiss lmfao. I'd be worried too.

This page is so sad to me.

Vio's feeling some regret while Shadow gets comfortable next to him.

HAHAHAHA.

Transition from being next to someone to being completely alone agh-

Shadow Link is in MISSERY-

Oof. Shit hurts.

The sword blast compiled with his emotional pain is just too much for this dude to handle rn.

Reflecting on his time with his "friend"

Guess that kiss in the library wasn't the last one...Vio seems reluctant to keep going back for more, pushing shadow off. We can assume why he shouldn't be doing that oops.

Shadow's not satisfied with that though and keeps giving our man kisses. Vio's really shitty attempts to bat him away aren't working.

It's safe to say: Vio lost the plot at some point.

It's obvious they're drunk as fuck, but the exact timing of this scene is up for interpretation as far as I'm concerned.

I do find it funny Shadow whines Vio is "So mean to him" just cause he won't let him shower him with kisses lmfao. Like Shadow he's about to do smth to you that's way meaner let's be real-

Shadow Link brings up the all to important LORE of the golden goddesses.

Okay but everything about this becomes ironic later lmfao I will not say how.

Cause the Triforce is like, non existent in FS I can do whatever the hell I want sooo I'mma cook. I like where I took it a lot.

Shadow's desires to touch the Triforce are uh...VERY EXPLAINED LATER to say the least.

Art wise in this page: Oh it was so fun.

1st panel: Shadow continuing to kiss Vio's cheeks as he talks. It's sweet in it's own weird way that he clearly cares about Vio a lot

2nd panel: Obviously comparing Vio with a goddess and the Triforce shows how much Shadow values this man in his life, cupping his cheeks while doing so.

3rd panel: They both just look cute. XD

4rth panel: Vio's visibly hesitant to return the kiss that time. and in the last panel we don't see his face, but rather get Shadow hugging him deeply.

Vio's still grappling with his actions are gonna catch up to both of them pretty soon.

Vio's utter heartlessness in the words he spoke to Shadow in the Fire temple must have HURT.

Shadow knows that he bold faced lied to everyone in that room.

Also to note: They CLEARLY spent some TIME together, as there's the scene of Vio and Shadow laughing together on some grass somewhere...

Shadow KNOWS Vio at least a little and he can't comprehend why he acted the way he did.

The last panel was so much fun I love how it turned out.

Okay but like: THIS LTIERALLY ALWAYS BOTHERED ME.

The idea Shadow betrayed Vaati being a fault of SHADOW'S character is such bullshit which just adds to the "Vio pulled this out of his ass" nature of his speech.

In every way: SHADOW BETRAYING VAATI IS A GOOD THING.

In WHAT WORLD is him turning his back on the EVIL GUY a bad thing???

His motives were 100% selfish but HOLY BALLS HE WAS WILLING TO GO NUCULAR ON GANON AND VATTI AND SAVE ZELDA FOR SOME VIUSSY. THAT'S DEDICATION.

Also, literally everyone's motivations for everything they do is selfish in nature, so the idea Shadow's the dick here is just, hysterical.

Vio was 100% projecting his own insecurities onto Shadow not trusting and being apart of his own team cause Vio's awful, cause let's be real: their situations are just NOT COMPARABLE.

Shadow's misstep no matter how you look at it, was trusting VIO. NOT betraying Vaati. HIS LITERAL POSITIVE CHARACTER ARC WAS STILL BETRAYING VAATI BY SHATTERING THE DARK MIRROR.

...SO WTF IS VIO'S SPEECH ABOUT EXACTLY??? IT LITERALLY MAKES NO SENSE PROBEBLY BECAUSE HE'S LYING HIS ASS OFF AND PROJECTING LMFAO.

Because his point wasn't "Find a team you CAN and DO trust and work with them." it was "You betrayed Vaati and you suck for that."

IT WAS PURE PROJECTION.

Idk if this is a translation oopsie or what. It was never brought UP so idk if it was even intentional or a genuine attempt at a moral going to shit and getting botched. X'DDDD (If it was intentional, that's funny but it was never expanded upon in any meaningful way so...IDK)

It gives weird as fuck mixed messages about what Shadow was MEANT to do here and what he ACTUALLY did wrong from Vio's chastising. Cause the reason Vio gives for his downfall is REALLY BULLSHIT. (In FSR, Intentionally so.)

Because

"Your downfall was that you were selfish and still wanted to rule the world and were willing to use used people like me and Zelda to do it, you just repeated the mistakes of Vaati" or smth would even be more accurate.

STILL HYPOCRITCAL ON VIO'S END CAUSE HE USED SHADOW BUT WOULD MAKE MORE FUCKING SENSE.

Giving massive rebound AU vibes here lmfao.

Audience is intentionally left in the dark about wtf Vio and Green were talking about...For no reason I'm sure. Authors don't think that hard about stuff-

Also left out on why they're sharing a bed. Bet that will NEVER get touched on. In ANY meaningful way.

The point of this scene is pretty obvious: Vio IS getting along with his team now. Which mega hurts Shadow to see ouch.

It's the equivalent of that Squidward meme of him in his house while Spongebob and Patrick run outside-

Green essentially has taken his place. Pain. We all know nothing but PAIN.

Shadow can't bare to watch Vio thrive without him cause he's selfish as fuck. X'D Just hurts too much. He wanted Vio to fill the gaps in his life and it just DIDN'T happen.

Haha you read the manga you recognize this. I don't gotta elaborate much.

I always just, am in love with Shadow turning into VIO of all people during this part in the story because, holy BALLS I can't even really describe the kind of itch that scratches in my brain but I will try.

So in FS, we KNOW Shadow can shapeshift into ANY of the Links, but he chose Vio. Dude has been Green/Link before so...WHY NOT GREEN? Uh simple: Bro adores Vio and looks up to him, that's the reasoning I came to anyway, as explained in these pages.

This is why in FSR in the library Shadow Link specifically describes Vio as "his hero". Vio's the one out of the four he looks up to most, because after reflecting Vio is the one that did the most "Heroic" things in his eyes.

He realized the betrayal wasn't out of malice or to hurt him, but to save Zelda.

The reasons Vio gives in the library for why he's utterly awful as a person are the same things that made Shadow respect his ass for what he put himself through lmfao.

This is also why in FSR dude isn't MAD at Vio for it anymore. He just wants to repair what they DID have there between them because bro adores Vio.

So if yall didn't know Shadow uses the mirror to see Vio.

Like, you can see him in the shattered mirror lmfao.

At least I THINK it's meant to be Vio. When I first read the manga I thought it was Shadow Link. XDDDD But now I'm fairly certain it is Vio. If we ever get a full color manga I'd love to know who it's actually meant to be.

Shadow's sad he won't know if Zelda's okay. Which is sad. And wishes he could see Vio, which is why the mirror SHOWS Vio. Lol.

Sad pathetic Vaati being hilarious aside, Vio being so distraught he drops his sword is kinda funny. And here's the retcon of "Vaati didn't die actually.

I already went on the rant in the actual thing that YES Shadow's death still meant smth despite Vaati living, because they wouldn't be able to beat Gannon without the gems Vaati gave up from this, so I won't repeat myself here.

Blue's "HOLD UR HORSES BITCH" is so funny to me because like, he HAS no emotional attachment to Shadow and the last they saw of HIM was him ya know, trying to kills their friend lmfao.

Vio pulling a very dying Shadow into his arms, because we deserved that. Green picks up Vio's sword cause he's cool like that.

Vio is OBVIOUSLY trying very hard to keep it together here, kept the dialogue MOSTLY the same from the OG because the dialogue wasn't the issue to me it was the freaking SHOT LAYOUTS AND THE ART. The art was well drawn but the actual like, things happening were kinda silly imo.

I particularly like the return of the "Shadow pets Vio's face/hair" motif.

It pops up in page 40

and page 77

And in terms of flashbacks in 169 Yes haha funny number He strokes Vio's cheek before going in for the kiss.

And many others but I'll avoid too many cause of image limits.

Shadow usually does this when Vio's upset which is funny. We know Shadow does stuff to others he wishes people did for him so maybe Shadow just wants his cheek stroked and to be told nice things lmfao.

Another thing: I mentioned it before but I don't really like when people make Vio cry too easily. Just not for me.

But Shadow dying makes sense for him to cry. Especially in FSR where we saw WAAAAY MORE of their relationship and how involved Vio really was with Shadow.

Vio, reluctantly did really like Shadow Link and is heart broken he is dead.

*I SUPER wanna show/talk about the "After they think they killed him in the fire temple" but there's a reason I did not show wtf Green and Vio were talking about when Shadow saw them in the dark mirror hehehehe. Vio's perspective on RIGHT after they blasted him with the sword is smth you can just speculate on for now.

He is obviously DISTRAUGHT Shadow is dying now.

So, its' implied Shadow saw some of the things Link was up to before he made himself known. So in my silly FSR comic he could see through Link's Shadow at what he was doing.

Art details:

Red crying at somebody dying just made sense to me it was actually WEIRD to me he didn't cry Shadow died. Not because he's emotionally attached, but dude's just an emotional person he cried at less hah.

Green STEPS UP and says his lines from the manga

I said in the OG post of the comic my thoughts on these particular panels but like

Green having just a TIIIIINY bit more agency in him holding Shadow's hand, a VERY simple gesture makes all the difference to me in this scene.

Shadow reasonably asks what we were ALL thinking: WHAT ABOUT ZELDA?!

Which OUCH, he didn't feel like he did enough-

To which Green comforts him they WILL save her.

I may ship Vidow to hell and back but Shadow's caring for Zelda and her affect on him is not ignored in this comic lmfao.

It's actually knowing Zelda's in safe hands that makes him comfortable enough to truly pass.

He knows Vio will be okay as he has his team but Zelda is someone he couldn't be sure about.

So panel 1

I just wanted to add the true level of "Yeah he dead".

Despite his hand passing through Shadow Link, Vio still tries to reach out to him. Which hehe reflects a scene from the very start of this comic huh?

He has unfinished business around Shadow.

He never got to truly say he was sorry.

If you've noticed, Vio STILL hasn't apologized yet.

Okay thumbnailing this scene genuinely gave me the big sad lmfao.

He missed him by a hair, Shadow's gone and Vio couldn't say all the things that were on his mind.

And since you totally asked:

Page 12 is put into a new perspective huh?

He reached him this time...

Green continues to be the goodest of good boys comforting his team mate.

There's an underlying sense of Green knowing more about Vio and Shadow's relationship than the other two...Which makes sense considering Green's the one Vio went to for comfort over the situation.

So some of the dialogue around Shadow's "good boy" status was changed because I just, straight disagree with some of the wording in the manga...

He did AWFUL things but he wasn't exactly a 100% bad person. Ironically, given a chance he could have been a great person. (The opposite of what he tried to do to Vio.)

His nature of being Link's Shadow, the HERO's shadow being on full display with his final moments (Or, what COULD have been his final moments...)

Blue's shocked Shadow would do anything to help them, reasonably so. His experiences with Shadow have been:

He tried to seduce their team mate to the dark side, almost KILLED said team mate, put them through hell and back and generally was awful to them.

Red sympathizes with BLUE (At least somewhat) so I imagine he's a lot more forgiving from this angle to Shadow. XD

Green's feelings about Shadow are a bit more OPEN to interpretation here but he did make an effort for the man to die without regrets. Later in FSR he seems to have a positive outlook on Shadow so whatever Vio told him might have made him more comfortable with him in these moments and the future.

I'mma cut it off here, which sucks because this transition is PERFECT into the next scene but I don't wanna hit image limits halfway through a rant.

Green continues to be a chad. What's new.

Him being in front of his team protectively is just...Yum. I love protective Green. XD

GANNON APEARS. Big piggy boy. I had no idea I could draw pig before drawing this and I'm happy with how he turned out.

His rant in the OG manga of speaking how Vaati and Shadow Link failed him leads directly into the next scene which was, delicious. But we'll pick this up later.

I'm sure you've noticed: As a time saving technique I only use shading when it SUPER matters in FSR. It helps save time and makes them have huge impacts. XD

The intense dark shading on Ganon makes him look threatening as HELL compared to what he'd look like without it.

For reference: This is what he'd look like without it.

He looks silly. XD

His color palette was based on the game btw. Because, what else did I have to go on? The intense shading also hides that he looks kinda out of place color wise haha.

#four swords returns rambles #fsr rambles

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avocate-assia-dazai · 9 months

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Day 6: Waking up next to a dead body

Author's note: It's been truly long since i write anything. It's just an old text i finally end up (yeap i m going to continue my writtober's list). Who know maybe i'll post a bit more~

Synopsis: I think everything is in the title. The protagonist wake up next to a dead body under a beautiful night.

Number of words: a bit more then 1k (i write less? I'm surprise, but honestly vocabulary feel missing in this langage lol)

One inspiration, then another. I was breathing dead and suffocating alive. It was as if for me everything was meaningless, life was nothing but emptiness and despair. The only break here was pain and suffering. Death was the redemption i was chasing. Nothing should have happened this way. But everything did happened this way. Sometimes I have to tilt, and this time I bow. Even something as simple as death must not want me. The blood was cold, yet it had been boiling a second ago. I wondered if everyone had such cold, viscous blood, and yet so pleasant almost comforting.

I gazed up at the moon above me, looking straight into my eyes, the only witness to my agonizing desire. If she could speak, she'd probably laugh at my incompetence, or perhaps show some sympathy, some pity? But who am I to expect the Moon to take even the slightest interest in my miserable existence? I cut short this contact to turn away from this one-way exchange of eyes contact.

Feeling the blood stick to my skin as I rolled onto my side, the breeze cooling my envelope. The smell I hadn't noticed until now filled my nostrils. A metallic air, complex to describe, I'd never smelled anything like it, yet I couldn't escape the sent that surrounded me. This icy, nauseating air made me smile. Just a moment before I'd felt it as soft and warm. I decided to look at her, and delicately stretched out my fingers to touch her cold cheek.

She loved life so much. She did everything she could to make me contemplate the beauty behind what was my torment. All to make me stay by her side a little longer. But I loved death so much that I did everything to achieve my deliverance. To leave her as soon as possible. Finally, despite all her efforts, the heart of the one who wanted to live had stopped moving. As for the one who wanted to die, hers had never beaten so hard.

My gaze slid over the hole in her chest. Would the inside of my body resemble to that too? Could someone so alive hide the same emptiness as someone already dead? If I were to open myself in two, wouldn't I discover that behind this skin, already hammered by my desires, lies an even more putrid flesh that hides nothing human, nothing alive? I lifted my face just enough to take a closer look at the abyss, where the burgundy liquid had stopped pouring out.

"Why did you take that bullet, even though I was the one holding the gun?”

I wasn't waiting for an answer, I already knew it perfectly well. The answer that made me cringe at the mere thought of it: "Don't you think there are lots of beautiful things you haven't seen yet?” It was stupid, ridiculous, wasn't there just a lot of horrible things I hadn't suffered from yet? That single bullet I'd struggled so hard to find, she'd snatched it from me, stolen it from me, hoping to make me feel guilty. It was my dream she had snatched away, plunging me into her nightmare.

I tried to run away, to believe, to understand. But there was nothing to understand, nothing to try, nothing good to expect. For me, nothing had value. When I was surrounded by those I loved, paranoia cut off all breath. I never felt more alone than when I was laughing alongside them, unable to follow any conversation. But I hated being without company just as much, left with the person I loved and hated most: myself. I don't know what was worse than myself. Only suffering was powerful enough to occupy my mind enough to make me forget how detestably me I was.

Suffering, even it fled from me, leaving me alone to face reality. When I was about to fire that bullet, the only person with whom I could allow myself to be as much me as I wanted without risking a look of incomprehension, had snatched my deliverance.

I wish I'd disappeared right afterwards, that someone would come and rescue me, that someone would help me breathe. If humans are meant to live, then someone so inhuman is meant to perish. This simple wish, which I pursued as the only possible redemption, continued to elude me like sand one would try to collect with an open hand.

But when I pulled the trigger, the smell of gunpowder filling my lungs, which were still breathing perfectly, made me understand. There was no impact, and my gaze fell on an inert corpse lying in almost black grass, the night making me think I was delirious in my last moments.

Her lips were blue, and red had tinted her hair, the moonlight making her look like a fallen angel. I thought unfairly that it was my fault, but far too much her fault, and that somehow the most important thing was how I was going to end it for good. Or should I stay here? Waiting for someone to find me lying next to this dead body. I'd probably get locked up. Maybe by depriving myself of freedom to atone for a crimes who isn’t my crimes at all. I'd be able to die in peace, without having to wonder if life really have any worth, or if anyone will ever give me even a semblance of it.

No one's coming, whether to save me from myself, or to punish me for what she did.

I took an icy breath, filling my lungs with as much air as I could, before releasing it in a long, painful exhale. If this was a dream, make sure I never wake up; if it's a nightmare, make sure I'm someone else when I wake up; if it's reality, make sure my heart stops on the spot, without pain or agony, because my life has been one long, poignant one.

The more I looked at her mortified face, the more I prayed to be able to disappear at her side. Don't make this life even more painful by separating me from her, let me go in the embrace of this liquid that was hers, let me disappear with her gesture of love as my last memory, probably the only thing that proves I had any value, any shred of humanity.

I closed my eyes, let my muscles relax, and perhaps my beating heart, the only proof of life inside me, would eventually stop, and allow me never to suffer from being me again.

hope you enjoyed~ Every comment or critic is welcom!

#writterscommunity #writing inspiration #art #dark academia #my writing #writeblr #writing #writers and poets #angst #one shot #suic1de #tw depression

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taegularities · 1 year

Note

okay so I'm not experienced (like at all) and I don't have an older sister or a close friend, so I'll take this opportunity to ask a couple of questions if you guys don't mind (thanks in advance) ps guys don't worry I'm not a child, I'm in my early twenties

1. Does getting hickeys hurt? (I suppose it's still some sort of bruising so it must hurt)

2. Does doing it *whispers* sex hurt? I've heard some horror stories so my mind is tainted with fear

3. This one is more of a confession: as I said, I'm in my early twenties but I've never been in a relationship before. This is because (among many other things) I've never been attracted to anyone, haven't had even the tiniest bit of a crush on a real person [I'm very sensitive to touch (I don't know why), I can't even hug my parents or relatives because I feel claustrophobic when people touch me. To be honest, even thinking about being intimate with someone else used to disgust me. And I've been like this even before falling for bangtan, ever since I can remember myself. The only people I can imagine kissing and not feeling uncomfortable are our boys (I'm not delulu, I'm not even thinking of this as something that might actually happen, I'm just sharing my feelings with the only people I'm comfortable with) ... so yeah, just wanted to see if there's someone out there feeling the same way

Thank you for reading and feel free to ignore this, I won't mind 🌻

AHHH ofc, no worries !! we're here for you. thank you for feeling comfy enough to ask <3

you're right, it's some sort of bruising, so i personally find it uncomfortable at times. i know a lot of people enjoy them and love how they turn out, but to me, they're... okay? like, it's not unbearable pain or anything but i find them unpleasant :')

sex doesn't hurt with sufficient foreplay and preparation. and i don't just mean a bit of fingering and clit stimulation, i mean actual foreplay like oral/sex toys/minutes and minutes of pleasure before having penetrative sex (unless you're already wet n soaking n ready!!). it might also hurt if you're not mentally ready for it yet – like tmi, but i remember that it just didn't work for me when i first tried bc i was too nervous lol. but as long as the partner's considerate and you trust them, it should not hurt !!

this is so valid, babe !!! you're absolutely not the only one who feels that way. a lot of people are sensitive to touch or just don't have a very present sex drive. that's okay !! you'll love and enjoy your time with your future partner the way you're comfortable with. sex isn't everything when it comes to being with someone. we definitely have a type of mental relationship with the boys, so we feel that we'd trust them enough with that. but if it's different for you irl, then that's valid, and you don't have to worry about it at all – as time passes, you'll learn what you like and dislike <3

talk to me about this anytime, no worries !! 💕

#if anyone wants to add anything pls feel free to <3 #*thirst night #notes for rid 🌹#anon #long ask

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nat-seal-well · 2 years

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Fic WIP 💙 This one is long to make up for how much I haven’t written lately lol

Title: pyrophytic

Pairing: Damien/Huxley

Rating: T (teen)

Warnings: I HC Damien as absolutely loving his mother. But given his nature, and her job, I also see her being very hard on him while he was growing up and holding him to unfairly-high standards. That is gonna be in this fic. Vomiting is briefly mentioned

It’s a fear that’s followed him, haunted him, trailed after him like his own shadow ever since the first time he’d been able to summon his fire. He remembers that day like he remembers none other; his mother, lecturing him for not getting a high enough mark on an exam (because for all of his love for her, and her love for him, she has always held him to standards no person can ever reasonably reach) while he stood in the living room with bowed head and clenched fists.

Damien had been all of fifteen when she shook that test in a clenched fist of her own, and each word that fell from her lips tightened the ropes around his wrists that bound him to the stake she’d already set alight the day he was born.

“You have to do better, Damien,” she had said and each word seared like glowing coals on bare skin. “People look to us with expectations. We—you—do not have the luxury of doing anything less than exemplary. How many times must I tell you? You are better than this. You are capable of more than this. You are my son, and I will not accept anything less than I know you have the potential to be.”

And that’s the problem; that’s always been the problem, the root of it, if you have to place your finger on a singular starting point.

Fire is never potential. It’s kinetic, lighting up, burning what had previously been stored. It can’t use what was never there in the first place, and Damien always puts all of himself into everything he does.

Why can’t it ever be enough?

There were dust motes drifting in the air, glowing in the sunlight, and those of all things are what Damien remembers focusing his eyes on when the smoldering remains of himself sparked in a way he’d never felt before. It was real. Visceral. A warmth in his chest, like swallowing too-hot soup, only it flowed from between his ribs, down to his dominant hand, and he felt like he’d touched a hot stove burner but without any of the pain.

Instinct took over then. Damien loosened his fist and curled his fingers around the heat there and he closed his eyes and threw it, because that was what felt right, in an attempt to get it away from him before it started to scorch. His mother had cried out in shock and hurt; that was what got him to finally pry open his eyes again and look up.

It turns out he’d aimed true: the heat in his hand had been real warmth, an actual flame. And in desperation to get rid of the thing causing the hurt, he’d set the papers in his mother’s grip on fire. They’d curled and blackened immediately and, because fire needs fuel in order to keep burning, it moved on to the next source.

The fist she’d been holding his test in.

What remained of his exam had burned a hole in the living room carpet and his mother had blisters on her palm before she finally went to go see a Healer, but she had smiled at him as she clutched her hand to her chest.

“See,” she’d said with nothing but pride. “There is always more to you than you think, Damien. Our family blood burns bright, like magnesium. Take care that you don’t burn out as quickly, too, and you will go far.”

Never once did she see the horror in his face, the bone-chilling dread when he realized what he had done. Damien had hurt her. His own mother. Caused her pain. The first time he’d ever been able to use his magic, and it had been out of violence and a desire for destruction. After she left for healing, he ran down the hall to be horribly sick in the bathroom.

His mother never got the carpet repaired, either. It was a mark of pride, she had said. Something to remind him of what he was capable of.

As if he could ever forget.

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redacted fanfic #redacted damien #fic wip #wip excerpt

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hongtiddiez · 1 year

Note

surprise!! 🎲🎲 two of them

OH THIS IS GONNA BE A LONG ONE LOL (also sorry it took me so long to do this, work stress is a bitch) - Ships used for this are Inspector M x Oat (Manner of Death) and Arm x Tay (Kinnporsche)

33) A Kiss to a Scar, Birthmark, Injury, or Other Marking

The tap squeaked overly loud as he stepped out of the shower, hastily drying himself while avoiding looking towards the fogged over cabinet mirror hanging just above his sink. It was always a race to get out of the bathroom and normally he could retreat to his bedroom, finish drying there, and avoid the unwanted confrontation with his reflection altogether. Today, however, he had company and he didn't want to risk waking the sleeping figure curled up beneath his duvet, knowing sleep came to them so very rarely with their rigorous workload and internship.

It was bad luck that the steam from the quick shower faded too quickly, and he turned at just the right time to catch a glimpse of himself in the dewy surface of his mirror. He swallowed the lump rising up his throat, eyes darting between the various puckered scars scattered over his torso. Unconsciously, he lifted a hand to trace his finger over the highest one, swallowing again the nausea of the memories; the betrayal, the sound of the gunshots, the scent of the warm, damp earth as his body hit the ground. He pressed against it slightly, the dull ache of pain drawing him back to the present just as the door to the bathroom cracked open. "M?" God, he loved the way Oat sounded fresh from sleep; loved everything about him, really.

"Sorry, did you need the bathroom?" He tried to offer a smile but he knew it was just a crude facsimile of what it should look like. He moved to cover his chest with the towel he had been using to dry his hair, but froze when Oat reached out to grab his wrist.

He stood frozen in place as his lover approached, standing just in front of him and examining his exposed chest in the dull yellow light of his tiny bathroom. It took every ounce of self control not to push his way through the door, to escape to the bedroom and pull on a shirt and duck beneath the covers until morning. He'd tried so hard and for so long to keep the ugly signs of his ineptitude from seeing the light of day, especially so around Oat.

"These are looking really good." Oat offered him the bright, blinding smile full of pure love and optimism that had drawn M to him like a moth to a beautiful shining flame. His pinched brow and baffled expression must have spurred Oat to speak again, the smile morphing to something reassuring.

"They're healing very nicely- Wait." His sleep-addled brain seemed to catch up to everything they'd done the last few months and his eyes darted up to M's. "Is this why you've never taken your shirt off?" He asked, his voice small and filled with trepidation and M found he hated it. Oat should never, ever sound that way around him.

"They're ugly and a sign of my mistakes," He confessed into the humid, quiet din of the tiny apartment bathroom. "They're not worth looking at." He moved to cover himself with the towel again but his eyebrows quickly rose in surprise as it was snatched from his hand and thrown towards the empty shower.

"Shut up," Oat hissed and M couldn't remember if he'd ever seen him truly angry like this. He was torn between guilt and attraction. "You know who don't have nicely healing scars? Corpses, and you very nearly were one. I stitched these myself, kept your blood in your body." He paused to swallow hard, his fingers dancing over the lower scars and M would have to be a much stronger man to keep his abdomen from jumping at the feather-light touch.

"I love these scars just as much as the man carrying them." He looked up with fierce determination and M physically felt the way his heart swelled at the expression, as if Oat was daring him to question his devotion.

"Okay, baby." He whispered, reaching up to tuck Oat's hair behind his ear. His hand fell to his lover's shoulder as he ducked down slightly and M suddenly felt the warmth of lips against the angry, twisted flesh of his highest scar. He tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling and keep the moisture locked behind his eyes, unable to bear looking at his gentle (so fucking gentle) lover pressing cleansing, worshipping kisses against his most hated features.

Oat was far more than he deserved, but he promised to earn his love each and every day.

------ 28) A Kiss in Parting

Arm was just finishing his once over of his gun when the creak of his door drew his attention up from his desk. The sight of Tay approaching would normally draw a smile to his face, conscious or otherwise, but today it had him dropping his gaze and looking away. Like a coward, he turned around and slid his suit jacket from his shoulders and began unbuttoning his shirt so he could slip into the Kevlar vest set out on a crate in front of him. He was proud of himself for not jumping at the touch to his shoulder, soon enough feeling the entirety of Tay press against his back as his arms wound around his middle. "Arm, please." His voice was soft and small and Arm hated it. He'd learned so much about Tay in the last few weeks and he knew he only spoke like this when he felt truly insecure or anxious.

"We've talked about this, Khun Tay." he peeled himself away with all the ease of a man ripping out his own teeth. He tried to distract himself in securing every clasp on his vest only to be spun around by his shoulder. Tay smacked his hands out of the way, taking over and tightening the vest in all the right spots before sliding Arm's shirt back up his arms and shoulders. Even angry, he was caring and attentive and Arm knew he didn't deserve it, not right now, not with the blatant distance he'd tried to erect between them.

"You don't have to do this. It's not a big deal, he'll get bored eventually." Tay sighed, but Arm could tell he believed the words less than the first time he'd said them, shouted them in his penthouse apartment the previous day.

"He hasn't yet and I'm not taking chances, not where you're concerned," Arm explained once again, hoping he sounded even more determined than when he had yelled his response yesterday. "I know what I'm doing, I've been doing this a while after all." He tried to reassure, tried to sooth away the pinch between Tay's perfectly sculpted brows.

He shrugged on his jacket once his shirt was buttoned and tucked in to Tay's satisfaction, the fleeting touches to his chest and shoulders reminding him of sharing a shower. It was something they'd both quickly become addicted to, nothing lustful or demanding, just two men taking the time to care for one another. He almost looked forward to feeling Tay's wet hair between his fingers, to feeling the way he relaxed against his chest as he massaged in the shampoo and pressed soft kisses to his temple.

"You make your way back here, Arm. Do you hear me? You come back to me, safe and whole." Tay demanded as his straightened his lapel, almost as if he was getting Arm ready for a gala rather than a confrontation with his jaded, bloodthirsty ex lover. "I won't be responsible for my actions if you don't make it back." A promise and a warning woven in an icy tone that brooked no argument. These were the moments where Arm was reminded that Tay was every bit the mafia heir Kinn was, just to a smaller offshoot of the Family.

"I promise. I wouldn't leave you for anything." He sighed, pressing his forehead to Tay's and closing his eyes as he slowly inhaled the complex scent of Tay's favored cologne. He kept his eyes closed even as he felt soft lips press to his, his hands automatically traveling to hold the hips across from him. He would never get over the way Tay felt so perfect in his arms, beneath his hands, beneath his lips.

"Go get him, love."

#kinnporsche #kpts #kinnporsche the series #ask game #prism writes #manner of death #MOD #inspector m x oat #armtay #asks #prompt asks

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