#Falling into Despair || Blue { Sadness }

[empatheticxangel]

@wondrousmuses || CLOSED STARTER

Liam had a soft frown on his face as he stood at an empty table in the mall’s food court, searching through his bag. He was having such a good time in California too. The beaches were great, and with all the college students out and about trying to fit in as much free time as they could before the school year began for the fall term and the endless assignments, lectures, and attempts to keep up with campus life took up their time started once again.

But now it seemed that good time was hitting a rough patch as the blonde began to realize he had misplaced his phone. Could he easily afford a replacement? Yes, if it came to it. However, he was hoping to avoid such a thing if possible. His frown deepened as he tried to mentally retrace his steps, his eyes turning an odd ombre shade of turquoise and deep blue.

“Now where could I have possibly left that dang phone…?”

[utahimeow]

cw — reader and gojo have a daughter, established marriage, gojo is sad but reader comforts him

satoru gojo is not a man of many fears. heights, spiders, needles, death—fearing these is alien to a man who’s looked death itself in the eye and refused to let it touch him. however the words that his five-almost-six year-old daughter just uttered send shivers down his spine.

he’s frozen, eyes wide, face pale. he thinks his lungs stop working and his heart stops beating.

big, blue eyes round as a bug’s stare up at him, oblivious to the implications of it all.

the sentence echoes in his head like a taunt. he thinks he’ll hear it in his nightmares tonight.

then, her little hand as she tugs on his pant leg yanks him back to reality.

“daddy, i said my tooth fell out!”

satoru gulps, gaze falling to the crumb of bone in her hand, then to the tiny gap that’s now in the front of her mouth.

he didn’t think it would happen so soon.

you’re home from work not long later and the girl rushes to greet you at the door, screeching with delight to announce the loss of her tooth to you.

you’re gasping dramatically, gathering her up in your arms as she gives you a gummy smile so wide her eyes scrunch shut. staring at her is like looking in a mirror, a perpetually perfect reflection of you and your love combined into one small being.

“it didn’t hurt, did it?” you ask her.

“nope! i didn’t even cry,” she tells you, beaming with pride.

“oh, how brave you are,” you tell her, kissing her soft cheeks, grinning as her giggles bubble throughout the entire foyer.

she wriggles out of your grasp and then she’s off again, bounding back upstairs to her room to the pile of plushies upon her bed so she can continue to brew up tales and backstories for each of them. now that both her mother and father have heard her big news, she’s satisfied enough for it to no longer need to be on her mind.

you’re not surprised to find satoru in the kitchen, rummaging through the snack cupboard. you are surprised at the fact that he doesn’t turn to greet you like he always does. with a pout, you stride over to his towering frame and snake your arms around his slender waist, pressing yourself flush to him.

“hi, lover,” you hum.

in your embrace, satoru becomes lighter. the tension in his hard muscles lifts, his shoulders dropping, his back shedding the weight of the world.

“hi, pretty,” he replies, uncharacteristically quiet, yet somehow his voice still drips with affection for you.

“what’s the matter?” you ask him. you’re well aware of your husband’s melodramatic nature, and it’s because of that that you don’t find yourself worrying over his state of despair. still, you’re rather filled with a curiosity—what minuscule nonsensical issue has him down today? did they discontinue his favourite kitkat flavour?

hands migrating up his torso and finding his chest, you squeeze your fingers into the fat of his pectorals. in the blink of an eye, satoru is facing you and his cold hands have grabbed hold of your wrists. he grins down at you softly, amused by your antics as always, but you blink again and his face drops, growing almost grave.

“talk to me,” you urge, prying. his soft grasp leaves your wrists, moving to envelop your hands which drown in his. he brings them to his lips, kissing at your fingertips, making your heart beat in your ears and your face grow hot. it’s strange to think he once shrivelled away from your affection, convinced he was not worthy of it.

“how was work?” he asks.

“fine. good. same as always,” you tell him. “but you’re avoiding my question. and your feelings.”

he shakes his head, a child through and through. “tell me about your day.”

“satoru,” you say, stern, and it feels like you’re scolding your daughter for not listening to you. “i hate it when you’re… off like this.”

his eyes pierce through yours then, filled with unspoken apology. then, he exhales, long and hard, a sigh that’s heavy with weariness. for you, he’s learned to surrender.

“our daughter losing her tooth today made me realise that she’s getting older and i can’t stop it,” he admits.

you sigh along with him, half relieved that your conscience had been right in believing that it wasn’t anything serious. well, in the sense that no one had died. the rest of you knows he’s not being irrational. since becoming a father, and even before that, when having children was just a distant fantasy for him, an anxiety had lived inside of him. an anxiety of fucking up, of being inherently unsuited to fatherhood, of the idea that she may suffer the consequences of him being her father.

and now, a new anxiety sprouts.

“true, but we get to watch her grow, satoru. don’t you think that’s amazing?”

he stays silent, mouth forming an absentminded pout.

“i just keep thinking about when she was a baby… how tiny she was, how she would waddle around, and drool on my chest. soon she won’t be my little girl anymore, you know?”

“satoru,” you say firmly. your hands curl around the back of his neck, scratching at the snowy hairs of his undercut. “she’ll always be your little girl. i know that because she’s your whole world, and you’re hers. she may never be that little baby again, but she’ll never be as little as she is now either, so love and cherish her now instead of moping about the inevitable passage of time.”

satoru smiles a dopey smile at you, the same one his daughter has.

“i’m so glad i married you,” he says. his hands are warm now as they settle on your lower back, dipping down, down, down.

you roll your eyes at him, opening your mouth to reply with something witty, but he beats you to it.

“i’m being serious now, baby. you always know what to say when i’m being stupid.”

“when you’re being overdramatic, you mean,” you say, grinning playfully.

“hey, it just shows that i care, doesn’t it?”

you pull him down to your face by his neck and kiss him, moulding your lips against his, tender and warm and home. it’s not just his thoughts that melt away when he kisses you, it’s his entire head, until all that’s left is a man with nothing but his wife on his mind, heart beating for no reason other than to keep him alive so that he can keep thinking about you.

briefly, you pull away, in spite of how he chases your lips with his, because he could kiss you until the end of time and you could do the very same, but there’s something weighing on your mind suddenly.

“if you want a second baby i can make that happen, by the way,” you tell him, your hips pressing against his.

“oh, now you want another one? but every time i ask for one i get an earful? heh,” he says, quirking a brow, but unfortunately for him he’s hard in his pants in an instant.

“yeah, but now i feel bad for you.”

“babe, i don’t want a kid out of pity!”

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Indelicate proposal

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: @thatawkwardlittlefangirl and @itzavahere I told you I'll blame you both for planting this idea into my head. So here it is and I've no idea why this initially short drabble grew into something so monstrous as it is now. I just hope you'll enjoy. And this is the meme that actually triggered it all 😅

Warnings: fluff, SMUT 18+, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, sub/dom undertones, slightly dominant reader, praise kink, hints to past abuse, Sihtric being a bit lost but absolutely the sweetest (don't know whether this is a warning but just in case 😅)

Summary: an unexpected proposal leads to more unexpected actions as you discover the surprisingly soft core of the young warrior seeking your attention. Can't claim there is much plot despite the word count

Word Count: 7,1 K

"Sihtric is with us now," Uhtred declared simply, devoid of any pomp or solemnity. The decision was made, requiring no further confirmation.

From the sidelines, you had observed the scene unfold beside Lady Gisela, your hand poised on the hilt of your sword, ready to spring into action if need be, prepared to protect her if necessary. Your eyes scanned every slight movement of the young prisoner, who held Halig hostage.

His slender yet well-built frame was taut like a drawn bow, every muscle vibrating with tension. His eyes darted nervously around the gathering, briefly meeting your scrutinising gaze before settling on Uhtred.

Wide and expressive, his eyes, framed by thick lashes, gleamed with a blend of despair and determination. Despite the tightness in his jaw and the flaring of his nostrils, there was no hint of malice or cruelty in his gaze, only a fierce resolve to endure, akin to that of a trapped wild animal.

A fresh wound above the Dane's temple left a hint of red in his short-cropped hair on the sides. The purple blue bruise marrying his left eye, the fresh cuts and scrapes on his arms, and his bleeding nose and lip added to his battered appearance. He was young, likely even a few summers younger than yourself, but the way his muscles rippled beneath the skin, told you there was much more hidden beneath his youthful and even soft features.

A smirk tugged at the corners of your lips as you observed the young Dane, realising that his greenness might have lulled the vigilance of the guards tasked with watching him. It was a tactic you knew well, one you had used to your advantage countless times before.

Gisela's worried whisper broke through your thoughts. "Do you believe he can be trusted?"

"We'll have to see," you responded with a nonchalant shrug, drawing your dagger from its sheath, prompted by Uhtred's nod in your direction.

Approaching the young man cautiously, your eyes locked onto his, noticing the dilation of his pupils and the tense set of his muscles. It was evident he was unsure of what to expect from you and braced himself instinctively for an attack.

"Hands," you demanded, tilting your head. He tried to maintain composure, but his breath betrayed him, quickening as his chest rose and fell unevenly. With a hesitant glance at Uhtred and the others dispersing from the clearing, leaving just the two of you behind, he extended his bound hands toward you. They trembled slightly, his chest now still as he held his breath in anticipation.

Pressing your dagger against the ropes, you made a swift cut, eliciting a sharp exhale from Sihtric. His eyes followed the falling remnants of the ropes, landing at his feet, his hands remaining outstretched as if in disbelief of his newfound freedom.

Raising his gaze to meet yours, your eyes locked - two deep pools of different colours filled with a mixture of alarm and trepidation, an unspoken question hanging in the air between you.

"You're free," you confirmed, and a faint smile touched the corners of the young warrior’s lips, though it failed to reach his eyes, a subtle sadness lurking within their depths.

Sheathing your dagger, you turned to leave, but halted after a few steps, casting a questioning glance back. Sihtric remained where you had left him, rubbing his wrists, a perplexed and somewhat sheepish expression gracing his handsome features. A smile tugged at your lips as you observed him, a curious warmth blooming within you. It seemed he was at a loss for what to do now that his audacious plan to gain Uhtred’s attention had unexpectedly granted him freedom.

"Sihtric, are you coming?" you called out, surprised when the young Dane visibly flinched at the sound of his name. His eyes flicked towards you, and in the next moment, he hurried into motion, falling into step behind you.

"Can't you sit still?" you whispered with exasperation, your patience wearing thin. Cleaning Sihtric’s head wound had become a challenging endeavour, akin to trying to pin down a spooked animal. He squirmed and shifted uncomfortably on the wooden bench, his hands restless as they roamed from the collar of his armour to his sides and back again, as if uncertain where to settle.

It was evident that the simple act of being tended to was deeply unsettling for him. As you reached out again with the damp rag, Sihtric, caught off guard by your movement, flinched and nearly leaped from his seat. In his startled reaction, he accidentally overturned the bowl of warm water you held, splashing both you and the ground.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice barely audible, cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he hastily clasped his hands between his knees. Avoiding your gaze, his eyes darted around the tent, searching for a means of escape.

You furrowed your brow, taking a step back to observe the young Dane before you, who seemed as though he'd prefer to vanish into thin air.

It all felt painfully familiar, an almost long-forgotten image emerging in the back of your mind like a jagged shard of glass. You saw her clearly, that young girl with wild hair and desperate eyes, caught in the act of stealing from a lady with cascading dark curls and a smile that could melt the coldest heart.

You had snarled and recoiled when she reached out to touch your unkempt locks,  expecting a whip but met with only kindness. She offered you food, a bath, and clothes to replace the ragged remnants hanging from your frail frame. Yet, despite this generosity, you fled the very same night. Sneaking out of the room offered to you, you ran without looking back, incapable to comprehend why you were treated with such goodness, feeling suffocated by it all, unable to bear the weight of her compassion.

A month later, you encountered her again in the bustling marketplace of Eoferwick, your fingers once more grasping for the purse at her side.

"My name is Gisela," she had said, her smile unwavering as you returned the stolen purse later that evening, cheeks flushed with shame. From that moment on, you never strayed from her side.

Meanwhile Sihtric’s gaze had shifted downward, fixated on his worn boots. Shoulders slumped and slightly hunched over, the young warrior, possessing the strength and skill to disarm two grown men with his hands securely bound, resembled a child caught in mischief, anticipating reprimand.

You softened your expression and extended a reassuring smile towards him. "It's alright, Sihtric," you said gently, your tone soothing as you reached out, resting your hand on his shoulder. "Just try to relax. Can you do that for me? We'll get through this together. You’re safe here."

Retrieving a bowl from the ground, you headed outside to fetch warm water from the kettle over the crackling fire.

"Would you mind if I tended to your wounds?" you asked, your tone tender, pausing to give him space. You sensed how crucial it was for him to feel in control, so you waited patiently, allowing him to make his own decision.

After a moment of uncertainty, Sihtric acquiesced with a slow nod, exhaling deeply. His gaze remained fixed on you as you drew near, this time handing him the bowl to occupy his restless hands. As you resumed your task of cleaning away the blood and applying salve to the bruises, a sense of relief washed over you as Sihtric remained seated, clutching the bowl as if it were a lifeline. Despite his body still being tense and his breaths ragged, he managed to keep himself still long enough for you to complete your work.

"It looks much better now," you remarked with a smile, stepping aside to assess the result of your efforts.

"It seems you've got yourself a new admirer," Gisela teased, nudging you in the side with a playful smile.

"What?" you replied, pretending to be clueless.

"Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed the way that young Dane looks at you. What was his name again?"

"You mean Sihtric?" you confirmed.

"Yes, Sihtric," Gisela chuckled, holding onto your hand despite your attempt to pull away. 

"Tell me all about him!"

"There's not much to tell," you dismissed, feeling a bit bashful.

"Come on, he practically can't take his eyes off you. Your horse has never looked better, and your gear is always impeccably cared for. How many times has he leapt to his feet, overthrowing the bench he was sitting on, to fetch you ale before you've even asked?"

Of course, you couldn't overlook any of it. Over the past week, Sihtric had become like your shadow. Your horse received extra care, your weapons gleamed with attention, even the loose ropes of your tent were neatly secured, and the kettle by your fire was constantly refilled with fresh water.

You tried to reason with him, insisting that such efforts weren't necessary. You were perfectly capable of handling your own belongings. Yet, he remained resolute. He didn’t argue with you, offering only a simple, "Yes, lady," with his gaze cast downward and his arms stiff at his sides. The following day, when you approached the horses, your mare was already tended to, her coat gleaming and her feed replenished.

"Sihtric, what are you doing here?" you exclaimed, surprised to find the young warrior curled up near the entrance of your tent, wrapped in the furs and blankets you had provided for him on his first day in camp.

Lost in discussions with Uhtred and Gisela about Guthred's intended negotiations with the Turgilsons brothers, time had slipped away from you. Sihtric had proven invaluable, gathering crucial intelligence on the brothers' forces and camp location, earning praise and rewards from Uhtred. Alongside his prowess with a blade, the young Dane showed remarkable cunning as a spy and scout, excelling at remaining unnoticed.

Regret washed over you as your words escaped, realising the abruptness of your tone. Sihtric practically jumped to his feet, rubbing his eyes and trying to regain composure, his expression a mixture of bewilderment and panic as he surveyed his surroundings.

“Why aren’t you sleeping in your tent?” you asked, lowering your voice and aiming for a soothing tone.

“I... Um... Clapa snores,” he offered uncertainly.

“Are you spying on me?”

“No, lady, why would I? I... I wouldn’t dare. I just wanted to be close in case you needed something.”

“Sihtric, we've had this discussion before. You're not my servant. I can take care of my horse and my weapons just fine,” you said firmly, the frustration evident in your tone.

Sihtric's shoulders dropped, and he cast his gaze downwards. “Are you upset with me, my lady? Did I do something wrong?”

“Wrong? Sihtric, my horse will burst if you keep feeding her like this, and I fear there'll soon be a hole polished into my sword.”

“I'm sorry, I... I didn't mean any harm. I only wanted to help, to be of use. I won't bother you anymore,” Sihtric stammered, hastily gathering his belongings.

A pang of sympathy tugged at your heart. You hadn't intended to hurt his feelings, but you clearly had.

“Wait, don't go. I didn't mean it like that,” you reached out instinctively, gripping his arm in an attempt to stop him from leaving.

Sihtric froze as your fingers grazed his skin, his breath seeming to catch in his throat. Sensing his discomfort, you quickly withdrew your hand.

“I'm sorry,” you apologised, feeling a twinge of guilt. “I truly appreciate your help, Sihtric. It's just that sometimes it feels a bit overwhelming.”

Your gaze softened as you looked at the young man before you. Despite your initial suspicions, you couldn't deny the genuine kindness in his demeanour. His innocence and vulnerability reminded you of yourself in many ways, and the way he often appeared completely lost and overwhelmed by his new surroundings was so familiar to you that against your better judgement, you found yourself growing fond of him. Perhaps even more than you were ready to admit. 

“Can I offer you some hot tea?” you suddenly asked, eager to show him a bit of appreciation. Sihtric nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips.

You held the tent flaps open, inviting him inside with a graceful gesture. Sihtric followed, still clutching the bundle of furs and blanket in his arms. Inside, you swiftly illuminated the tent with the warm glow of candles, then located two cups and filled them with herbs and hot water. Turning back to your guest, who stood just a few steps from the entrance, you offered him a welcoming smile.

“Would you like to take a seat?” you asked, extending your arm with the cup towards Sihtric. He set the bundle on the ground and accepted the offered cup, but remained rooted to the spot. You watched as he wrapped his palms around the cup, which seemed almost small in his large hands. The intricate lines tattooed on his fingers caught your eye, and wondered if they held any special meaning, but you decided against asking.

Sihtric shifted nervously from one foot to another, lifting the cup to his lips for a small sip. Several times, he seemed on the verge of speaking, but each time, the words eluded him.

You observed him quietly for a moment, allowing the soothing silence to linger a little longer. It was evident that something weighed heavily on the young warrior's mind, but you didn’t want to press him.

Eventually, your curiosity got the better of you, prompting you to break the silence. “Is there something you want to say, Sihtric?” you inquired, offering him an encouraging smile.

“I… I’m not sure how to put it,” Sihtric muttered, his gaze flitting around as he took a tentative step back towards the entrance, as if contemplating a hasty departure. It wasn't the first time you noticed his tendency to seek an exit strategy.

With deliberate steps, you approached, trying not to appear too imposing, and halted directly in front of him, meeting his gaze with gentle assurance. “Go ahead, I’m all ears,” you prompted, offering him your full attention.

“I mean… I wanted to… I wanted to ask you… if maybe you and I… if I could…” His words stumbled over each other, his breath quickening, cheeks flushing crimson with embarrassment. “Would you mind if I… if I humped you?” he finally blurted out in a single breath, his gaze darting nervously to the ground.

“You what?” You choked on the hot liquid you had just brought to your lips, spluttering it onto Sihtric’s leather armour. The surprise and incredulity in your voice were difficult to mask.

"Gods… I… I like you. You are so beautiful and kind. I’ve never met someone like you and… and… please don’t be angry with me. I… I can give you everything I have, all my rings, look, I mean it,” he hastily removed his arm rings, recently gifted by Uhtred, and began pulling rings off his fingers, the cup in his hands hindering him until it finally fell to the ground.

You looked at Sihtric, unsure of how to respond. You should have felt offended, but the earnestness and embarrassment on his face suggested he hadn’t meant to offend you.

Sihtric stretched his arms toward you, presenting all his valuable belongings.

"Do you think I'm a whore?" you finally asked, meeting his gaze with a mix of surprise and concern.

"What? No, why? By the Gods, no…" Sihtric's voice faltered, revealing his nervousness. You noticed him taking a cautious step backward, edging closer to the exit. "I didn’t mean it that way… It’s just… back home, in Dunholm, the girls always asked for something in return to let me hump them. And ... and they said they enjoyed me. I didn’t have much to give, but I always found something, like a piece of cloth or a blanket, or fresh-baked bread. So I thought… I thought… since you're a lady… if I offered you silver…"

Sihtric gulped, clearly sensing your disapproving gaze. “The other warriors and Kjartan used to mock me for giving away all my belongings. I know they were having the girls even against their will, but my mom always told me that real strength isn't about hurting those weaker than you. I mean… back then when she was still around,” he continued, his words tumbling out in a rush like an unstoppable stream.

“Gods, now you are really angry with me. You must think poorly of me. I’m such a fool. Please forgive me, lady. I’m sorry. I better be going before I say something even dumber. It’s all yours, anyway.” 

Before you could respond, he hastily deposited all his silver and gold into your hands and turned to leave.

Staring down at the glimmering wealth he had thrust upon you, disbelief washed over you. "Hold on! You can’t just give me all this! Wait!" you protested, but Sihtric was already halfway out of the tent. "Stop, get back here," you commanded firmly, and to your relief, Sihtric froze in his tracks.

“I swear, I didn’t mean to offend you,” he said softly, turning back to face you, though he avoided meeting your gaze. "Please don't think badly of me. I'm not like my father, I never wanted to be."

It was just a tiny glimpse into his past life, but even that filled you with sadness and sympathy. Setting the unexpected gifts down on a nearby table, you made your way to the tent entrance, drawing the flaps closed behind you. You turned back to Sihtric, blocking his way out. You couldn’t leave it like this; you needed to have a talk. 

"Hey, I'm not angry. I'm just kinda surprised," you said, stepping closer.

"Surprised?" Sihtric let out a relieved sigh, but he still wouldn't look you in the eyes, his embarrassment clear even in the dim candlelight, with his cheeks flushed red.

You shook your head as you continued to observe him. He was undeniably good-looking, his muscular build catching your eye, and you couldn’t deny you felt attracted to him, but there was something about the young warrior that went beyond looks. You had already gathered that his life hadn’t been a smooth ride on a paved road, and you wondered how deep the scars in his heart ran, realising that the few visible ones he carried on his handsome face were merely the surface of a much larger tapestry of pain and suffering.

"I like you too, Sihtric, and I just want to know you better," you said, stepping forward slightly.

"You do?" disbelief and even suspicion were evident in his voice.

You moved with deliberate care, allowing Sihtric to observe every motion as you reached out and tenderly cupped his face. He inhaled sharply, his eyes fluttering shut. Your thumb softly traced his cheek, and with a heartfelt sigh, Sihtric leaned into your touch, snuggling against your palm.

You pulled back your hand quickly, worried that he might misinterpret your gesture as anything more than a reassuring comfort to show you were not angry. The faint whimper that escaped his lips, followed by a sigh, cut through you sharply, echoing in your mind.

"Please... could you... do that once more?" Sihtric said under his breath, opening his eyes to meet yours, his expression filled with earnest pleading.

"Do what?" You paused, momentarily confused.

"That... that thing you just did," he replied.

"That thing? You mean when I caressed your cheek?" A gentle chuckle escaped you as you noticed the blush spreading across Sihtric's cheeks. "Like this?" you asked, reaching out again to cradle his jaw gently, your thumb skimming the corner of his mouth. Sihtric immediately responded, leaning into your touch, his eyes closing and his breathing deepening.

You closed the gap between you, gently tilting his face toward yours, and he instinctively followed, your foreheads lightly touching. "When was the last time someone touched you like this?" you asked, and although you suspected the answer, it still caught you off guard.

"I don't remember," he whispered back, his voice tinged with a faint tremor.

You weren’t really sure what made you do it; it wasn't something you'd planned. You just wanted to smooth over the awkwardness caused by his indelicate proposal and unexpected admissions, to let him know you weren't upset. It was evident the young warrior had no real understanding how inappropriate his offer actually was.

You had so many questions you wanted to ask, so much you wanted to understand. But instead of asking anything, something inside you took over. You found yourself standing on your tiptoes and kissing him, holding his face in your hands and pulling him closer.

Your lips brushed against Sihtric’s, a little rough from the wind, and you could taste the faint hint of ale and the tea you’d made earlier in his quick, shallow breaths. Your heart was racing, pounding so loud you could hear it in your ears, and a fluttery feeling filled your stomach. Sure, you’d kissed before—some who were charming and passionate, and some who definitely weren’t princes—but this somehow felt so different and it was a bit embarrassing, especially since Sihtric didn’t kiss you back.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..." you stammered, pulling back abruptly, taken aback by your own spontaneity. So much for just wanting to talk to him. Sihtric stood there, eyes closed and hands at his sides, as still as a statue. The silence thickened around you as you tried to steady your pounding heart. It was perplexing; the young Dane had wanted to hump you, yet he didn’t even respond to a kiss. What the heck?

Just as the wave of embarrassment hit its peak and you considered asking him to leave, Sihtric’s hand reached out, gently cupping your cheek. "Please, can we... Can we try again?" he breathed, leaning in and tentatively pressing his lips against yours..

It was a soft and cautious kiss, his lips barely brushing yours, as tender as a feather's touch against skin—a gentle probe for warmth and connection. Feeling your head spin slightly, you kissed back with more intensity and passion, drawing a low groan from Sihtric.

Reluctantly, he pulled back, breaking the tender embrace of your lips but keeping his forehead pressed against yours. His breath was warm and ticklish against your face, his fingers trembling slightly as he continued to stroke your cheek with his thumb, his breathing shallow and unsteady.

"Do you like it?" you asked, unsure of what to say or do next.

"I... I do. I've never been kissed like that before," Sihtric admitted, his voice carrying a note of surprise mixed with sadness.

His response took you aback once more. "Did the girls in Dunholm require extra payment to let you kiss them?" The question slipped out before you could stop it.

With his eyes still closed, Sihtric shook his head. "No, they never allowed me to kiss them. They never touched me the way you just did. Not even the women in the alehouse that Tekil paid for," he added, his voice fading into a whisper.

Without speaking, you reached out and drew him into a firm embrace, feeling his body stiffen briefly as if he might pull away. But you held on, your fingers gently combing through his hair. After a moment, his resistance eased, and Sihtric relaxed into your hold, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Slowly, his arms wrapped around your waist, drawing you closer against his chest.

For a while, you both just stood there, the warmth of your bodies wrapping around you like a soft blanket. His deep longing for attention and warmth, for genuine love and friendship—those simple joys that breathe life into existence tugged at your heart. You had found such treasures in Gisela's unconditional care and friendship years ago, and now you just tried to convey at least a small fraction of that same comfort with your gentle touches and steadfast embrace.

As Sihtric's breath warmed your neck, you felt his large hands pull you closer at the small of your back, his lips seeking yours again with a newfound passion. The kiss unfolded slowly, deeply, and you savoured each moment, losing yourself in the tenderness of his embrace. Your lips moved together in harmony, his hands tenderly stroking your back and hair, fanning the timid spark that had flickered to life at your first touch into a fervent blaze, making you crave for more.

Breaking the kiss elicited a soft whimper from Sihtric. "Come," you said in a low voice, gently taking his hand and leading the way. Sihtric followed,  a slight bewilderment crossing his face.

"I don’t want you to hump me," you began, looking up at him as he stood beside your fur-covered bed.

Sihtric’s eyes dropped to the ground once more. “It was so stupid of me to ask, I’m sorry…” he said hastily.

"Shh, listen to me," you interrupted, placing your index finger to Sihtric’s lips to silence him. "I want to show you something. Do you trust me?"

"Lady, I would trust you with my life," he replied, his eyes lifting to meet yours with an intensity that made you smile.

"Good, because I want to share something special with you, and I need you to trust me, to feel safe. I want to make love to you, Sihtric," you spoke softly, placing your hand on his chest and gently urging him backward onto the fur-covered bed. "Trust me," you repeated, and with wide eyes, Sihtric allowed himself to be guided down. 

Seated on the cushioned surface, he watched you with anticipation as you settled onto his lap, legs on either side of his thighs, straddling him. You pulled him into another kiss, and this time, you abandoned all restraint. Your fingers wove through his hair as your tongue eagerly explored his lips, seeking entry into his mouth. With a soft gasp, he yielded, allowing you to deepen the kiss, and you revelled in the soft sounds of pleasure that escaped Sihtric as your tongue explored his mouth, clashing against his. His hands tentatively wandered up your hips and along your back, drawing you nearer to him.

You traced a trail of soft kisses along his jaw, playfully nipping at him with your teeth. Each touch of your lips drew a low moan from Sihtric, encouraging you to linger on his sensitive neck and suckle at his skin, leaving behind a few lingering marks. Even through the layers of fabric between you, you could feel his arousal growing, prompting you to grind your hips against his, seeking friction.

Sihtric responded with a deliciously soft moan, his hips rising to meet yours, his breathing growing rapid. Your hands skillfully loosened the laces of his leather armour, but as you began to pull it away, he suddenly tensed, his hands catching yours to stop you. "You may not like what you see," he murmured softly.

Confused by his hesitation, you gently insisted, "Why? Sihtric, let me. I want to see you, to feel you. You told me you trust me," your voice soft but persuasive, and eventually, his resistance crumbled as he released your hands.

You couldn't help but gasp at the sight of his well-defined abdomen, muscles rippling under his skin, but it was the scars crisscrossing his torso that held your attention. Some were thin, precise lines across his chest, likely from a blade, while others, more rugged and widespread across his shoulders and back, were surely traces of a wip. Gently, you traced these marks with your fingertips, emotion rising within you.

"My goodness, Sihtric," you whispered, guiding his chin gently to keep his gaze from averting, and then you brought your lips to his in a tender kiss. "You should never feel ashamed of these. Wear your scars with pride. They're evidence of your strength and resilience. Don't let your past dictate your future," you murmured against his mouth, feeling the tension that had crept into his body begin to melt away.

He looked up at you with a shy smile and released a soft sigh, as he licked his lips before he drew you in closer. His kisses along your neck were soft and filled with gentleness and purpose, sending shivers down your spine, the feeling of his tongue against your skin igniting a growing desire between your legs.

With a chuckle, you asked, "Could you give me a hand?" and guided Sihtric's hands to the laces of your armour. His puzzled expression brought a smile to your lips as you nodded, and together you swiftly worked to remove your armour. You giggled at the sharp exhale that left him as your breasts bounced out from beneath your tunic. 

“You can touch them, and you can kiss them, just be gentle,” you encouraged with a smile.

“You are so beautiful,” Sihtric uttered softly, his hands hesitantly cupping your breasts. You arched your back with a soft sigh as his lips wrapped around your hardened nipple and gently suckled on it, hands caressing your bare back. 

“Yes, just like that,” you didn’t even try to muffle the moan that tore through you, your fingers tangling in his soft and thick hair, as he turned his attention to your other nipple, while his hands traced down your spine to your buttocks, squeezing them.

Your hands found their way to the hem of his breeches, unlacing them and slipping inside. Sihtric groaned at your touch, his breath picking up rapidly, as you stoked his already fully hard length. 

Sihtric effortlessly lifted you, his grip firm as he flipped you onto the furs and settled himself between your thighs.

With eager breaths, you shed the last remnants of clothing, allowing your bodies to meld together. Sihtric's tender kisses and gentle touch on your bare skin setting ablaze a fiery sensation within you.

"Come closer," you mumbled, drawing Sihtric into a tight embrace, cradling him between your legs. Your fingers traced gentle paths over his scars as you savoured the sensation of his warm, muscular form against yours. You listened intently to his heavy breathing, feeling the heat of his body seeping into your bones, while his fingers grazed your skin and his nose nestled against your neck, inhaling your scent.

“I’ve heard the pleasure one can bestow with the tongue could be indescribable, but I’ve never done it before. Will you teach me?” he asked and you almost choked on your breath as Sihtric’s lips started to trail a path of tender kisses down your naked body. 

“Oh, Sihtric,” you gasped as his hot breath hit your core. You reached out, grabbing his hair, and he moaned as you guided him, where you craved for him. 

“Yes, here, use your tongue, pretty boy. Oh, gods,” the first laps of his tongue against your pulsing bundle made you squirm and whine. “Just keep going. You are so good ... oh, oh please don’t stop … it feels godly … you are made for this,” you mewled, rolling your hips against Sihtric’s face. 

You heard his breath stutter with every praise you gave him, as he got more and more eager to please you, his tongue alternating between quick and soft licks and long and teasing wipes, the soft moans leaving him telling you how much he was enjoying this.

Your grip in Sihtric’s hair tightened as you felt your climax quickly building up and you tugged him closer to your perl. “Here, suck on it,” you panted, and your head snapped back as Sihtric’s lips encircled your oversensitive nub, sucking gently at it. 

The lewd sounds, that rolled over your lips, spurred him on, each lap of his hot tongue sending waves of increasing pleasure through your body, each swirl around your clit making you whimper and whine.

“Put your finger inside me,” you mewled between heavy breaths and whined out loud as Sihtric did as told, sucking harder on your clit. “Oh by Freya and Freyr, yess, yessss, you are such a good boy,” you tugged harder on his hair, pushing your hips up against his eager mouth and Sihtric groaned in pleasure against your cunt.

You had no idea whether he knew what he was doing or was it pure instinct, as he added another finger and started moving them in and out of you, thumb rubbing your clit. His tongue kept lapping through your folds, and after a few thrusts the pleasure exploded within you as he pushed you over the edge. You moaned his name into the silence of the night, as you came undone, tugging on Sihtric’s hair and gasping for breath. 

With a satisfied smile on his lips he kissed his way back to your lips, your eyes glassy and chest heaving heavily as you slowly came down from your high.

“You are so delicious,” he murmured quietly, kissing you deeply and letting you taste yourself on his tongue. 

“I thought you had never done it before,” you murmured, wrapping your arms around his neck, still floating between this world and the afterglow of the probably most intense orgasm you had ever had.  

“You are such a good teacher and I learn quickly,” he murmured between kisses.

You could feel his hard cock pressing against your belly, and you let your hand wander down, your fingers sliding over the sensitive tip, gathering precum and spreading it all over his rigid length with slow sensual strokes. 

Sihtric moaned at your touch, pressing his nose against your skin, his breath getting more and more rugged with each movement of your hand. 

“How do you want me?” you asked, putting a bit more pressure in your hand and eliciting a breathless groan from Sihtric. 

“I … I want to see you,” he whispered and another moan escaped his parted lips, as you continued your ministrations, and he eagerly bucked his hips into your hand. 

“I want to look into your eyes and see you falling apart on my cock,” he murmured in your ear, his voice hoarse and breathing uneven, as he struggled to control himself. “Will you let me? Please, say that you want me. Say that you want me to pleasure you.” 

“Of course I want you, silly boy. You are almost too good to be true. Come, take me, pleasure me, I’m yours,” you breathed in his ear, guiding him at your entrance. 

“I want to be good. I want to be a good boy for you,” Sihtric breathed against your lips. 

You eagerly rolled your hips into his. ”I just want your cock inside me, good boy,” you chuckled.

You both moaned in unison as Sithric slowly pushed himself inside you until the very end of his shaft, his thick and long cock filling and stretching you perfectly. You spread your legs wider to welcome him. Buried deep inside you, he stilled, letting his lips run along your neck, leaving a trail of sloppy open mouthed kisses, burning on your skin and leaving you yearning for more, as he waited for you to adjust to him. 

His large palm ghosted your skin on your side, trailing down to your thigh, as he pushed your leg up and dragged his cock out of you before making his first thrust. Moaning breathlessly, you arched your back against the soft furs beneath you, digging your nails into Sihtric’s shoulders. 

His hips started to move against yours as he fucked you so torturously slowly but thoroughly, pushing himself deep inside you. Holding on to his broad shoulders, you met each thrust moving up against him, tensing your inner muscles and savouring every inch of him brushing against your pulsing walls. 

Your fingers found their way back into Sihtric’s hair, and you pulled hard on them, a smile tugging on your lips from the delicious moan it elicited from Sihtric.

“Use me, mark me, I’m yours,” Sihtric groaned, pulling out of you and thrusting back in one smooth go. “Please, I want to be yours,” he begged, and you dug your nails into his shoulders, leaving red marks in his pale flesh. 

“More, Sihtric,” a needy whine left your lips. “I need more of you.”

With a low groan, Sihtric fastened his pace, hips pounding against yours. You gazed up at him, a strange feeling curling in your stomach. You felt safe. You felt loved and adored, and so wanted like never before in your whole life. 

You were in his power, pinned down beneath his muscular body as he fucked you into the soft furs of your bed, his soft whimpers like a music to your ears, as he begged you to pull harder on his hair, to use him, to mark him, to allow him to please you. You savoured the pretty and desperate sounds he made in your ear, finding them both beautiful and so arousing, your climax approaching with each snap of his hips against yours.

“Do you enjoy me?” Sihtric uttered quietly in your ear, his voice quivering slightly.

“Yes, by the gods, I do,” you muttered, your eyes starting to roll back in your head, feeling the pleasure intensify within you. Sihtric let out a low growl at your words, his breath catching.

“Please, say it again,” he pleaded.

“You’re doing so well,” you praised him. “You feel godly within me. Even Thor itself couldn’t bring me more pleasure.” Sihtric whimpered in response and you felt his cock twitching inside you. 

His moans grew louder and more fevered, his thrusts getting harder and deeper, breath panting and hot against your neck. You felt almost like drowning, gasping for breath from the intensity of pleasure building up within you.

“Such a good boy for me,” you murmured, gripping his hair tightly and eliciting another moan from him. Sihtric’s thrusts started to get sloppy, his moans more heavy with each thrust. 

“I’m so close,” he whimpered, his body tensing, “I will not last much longer.”

You took his hand and guided it to your perl. “You know what to do,” you breathed and Sihtric’s fingers instantly started to rub and circle it. That was all you needed, the last touch to push you over the edge. You felt your walls starting to clench around him, your head snapped back and you came with Sihtric’s name on your lips, shuddering from the waves of pure bliss washing over you. 

A few thrusts later Sihtric pulled out, and you felt his hot seed painting your belly as he groaned in the crook of your neck. He slumped down beside you, his breath heavy and laboured. For a moment you both just lay there, coming down from your highs. 

You turned your head toward him, watching his handsome features. You had never had a more gentle and attentive lover, so concentrated on your pleasure instead of chasing his own. You wanted to pull him closer, to let him feel the same. You wanted him to feel loved and accepted, and cared for just as he had made you feel, but before you managed to do anything Sihtric abruptly jumped to his feet, glancing around the tent. Grabbing a cloth and dampening it with warm water from the kettle, he returned to the bed and carefully cleaned you up.

You watched, your eyes widening, as Sihtric scrambled to gather his scattered clothes from the ground and began to hurriedly dress. He fumbled with his breeches, hopping on one leg in an awkward dance.

"Sihtric, what are you doing?" you asked, a lump forming in your throat. The bliss of moments before now replaced by a wave of embarrassment and a sinking feeling in your stomach. You tried to catch his eye, but he kept his gaze firmly on his clothes, avoiding yours.

"You don’t have to say it. I know. I’m leaving," he stammered, clumsily trying to pull on his boots while clutching his wrinkled clothes.

"Sihtric, look at me," you insisted, sitting up on your heels to face him better.

Finally meeting your gaze, confusion was written all over Sihtric's face.

"So, you just wanted to hump me and now you're leaving just like that, without a word? Like a coward?" you asked, your voice tinged with hurt and disbelief. You didn’t even remember the last time you had cried, the wetness suddenly pearling in the corners of your eyes taking you by surprise. 

"What? No, it's not like that," he replied, clearly taken aback. "You mean you want me to stay?" His voice was filled with astonishment, leaving you momentarily speechless.

A tense silence hung between you, both of you regarding each other with bewilderment. Sihtric let his clothes fall to the ground as he approached and slowly crawled back onto the bed towards you.

Noticing the tears starting to form in your eyes, his expression softened. "You really want me to stay?" he asked gently, cupping your face in his hands before pulling you into a tight embrace.

"Please don't cry. I'm not worth a single tear of yours," Sihtric whispered, his fingers gently caressing your back and threading through your hair. "I would do anything for you. Just say the word, and I'll move mountains. I… I didn't dare to hope... I mean look at you. And look at me—I'm nobody. Why would you want me to stay?"

"Sihtric, just be quiet," you murmured, allowing yourself to sink deeper into the warmth of his embrace.

The next morning, you awoke still nestled in Sihtric's arms. As the first rays of sunlight filtered through the tent, he stirred, slowly opening his eyes. Seeing you next to him, a soft smile spread across his face.

"You're still here, it wasn’t a dream," he murmured, his voice filled with relief and a hint of hope.

"Yes, I'm still here," you replied, your voice gentle yet firm, as you traced a finger tenderly along his jawline, "And there's nowhere else I'd rather be."

You moved closer, trapping him between your thighs and propping yourself up on your elbow. Leaning in, you kissed his lips softly.

A rush of emotion crossed Sihtric's face as he pulled you closer, and you gasped, feeling his hardening cock pressing against your inner thigh.  

"I would do anything to hold you in my arms forever," he confessed, his eyes locking with yours, filled with sincerity and a deep longing.

"I think I know how you can convince me," you said softly with a tender smile, and you kissed him again, deeply and passionately, cradling his face in your palm. 

Sihtric's smile grew even brighter as he tightened his arms around you, flipping you over and pressing you into the furs with the weight of his body. 

“Tell me, my lady,” he hummed, his lips trailing a hot path down your neck. “I'm all ears, how can I please you today?”

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[alxxbee]

Ok, I just saw your redesign of Lucifer for the 2P AU you did and I honestly like it a bit better than in the show, he actually feels prideful here since purple is in fact the biblically accurate color of Pride! :D

Also making him a brunette and adding bright blues (a biblically accurate color of Sloth) as accents was a nice choice :) and the golden eyeshadow! :)

But does he still rule Hell in the AU with Alastor coming from Heaven? And what's the latter's role IN Heaven?

(I’m actually not very familiar with 2P lore if there really even is one but i’ll try))

((i also haven’t rewatched the show since it literally came out i maybe have forgor about like many things LMFAO))

(this also got deleted like twice and i’m pissed for rewriting this again)

(anyways here’s 2P Lucifer in my own interpretation)

2P Luci thrives in being alone, finding comfort and strength in it rather than misery. He doesn’t mind ruling Hell on his own. He doesn’t need anybody and doesn’t want anybody. His relationship with 2P Lilith has broken apart completely, due to their different views on redemption and the treatment of sinners. 2P Lilith is tricky since we know almost nothing of her, but i believe that she harbors a deep disdain for Hell and rejects the idea of controlling sinners for personal gain

BUUUUT something that has been in my mind recently is how he is essentially the embodiment of Pride.. but since 2P is (technically) the opposite of something (an inversion) The opposite of pride would be HUMILITY. Instead of making him a sad, insecure ruler, ..I’d like to think he thrives on human’s insecurities, fear, humiliation and self-doubt instead.. (rather than in the show he puts ON a prideful face when in reality he’s quite timid and socially awkward))

His relationship with 2PAlastor is quite decent (2P radioapple 🙂‍↕️) they still bicker but not in a hateful way like they do in the show, lighthearted jokes and banter, reflecting a mutual respect. (Lucifer knows how sensitive 2P Al is, and despite flourishing in humans despair and emotions, He has a soft spot for 2P Al.) ..Oh and they do not try to win over Charlie’s affection, ((2P Charlie actually does not really gaf about them XD))

Does not care for Heaven.. maybe even hates. but is not emotionally affected by his fall, I don’t know if Lucifer actually misses Heaven in the show, we can see how deeply affected he still is by their rejection of his creativity.

so i guess id like to think instead of him feeling hurt or betrayed(?), he feels somewhat thankful. Thankful that he was able to flourish in HIS ideas at last, finally seeing the evil of the world like he intended to.. destroying the order Heaven worked hard to maintain. Maybe he wanted Eve to bite the apple because he WANTED evil to come and corrupt the world, He knew what came with free will. He was a rebellious angel who went against Heaven in every way, intentionally with malice. Implying that Lucifer does not regret his role in giving sinners free will. He also cares for his sinners but not in a good way, more like he wants as many as possible so he could one day potentially top over heaven in power. A power hungry bastard.

He is serious, and a realist. NOT goofy and silly lmao. (Though he has goofy moments i shall not strip him of his whimsical fun entirely)

2P Lucifer and Original Lucifer share some similar qualities aswell. Something Both 2P Luce and Original Luce have in common is that they love Charlie.. and will protect her at all costs. Luci actually maintains a positive relationship with his daughter, He is close with her and tries to be in her life like a good father should, but 2P Charlie doesn’t usually give him the time of day. although she can be quite mean, and not the bubbly type at all like she is in the show, she still loves her father to a certain extent.

Again, we don’t really know much about the characters and the family’s history in the show.. And until we do, everything i said could be changed completely!! Like i said this is something for fun!! I haven’t really been thinking much about this AU, i designed him as a silly redraw but if i ever in the future add more details to his lore i will 🫶

Oh and as for the relationship with Original Alastor and 2P Luci…

Ok that’s all idk i don’t write for a reason 💀💀💀 💔

[tornado1992]

The world does not deserve some things.

It doesn’t deserve destruction, hate or cruelty.

Sonic has known this for quite a while, being some sort of fighter for nature or a so called “protector” of it by a lot of people, he’s not so sure about that though.

Just as the world can be beautiful it can become dreadful, the world gives origin to everything in it, and that everything is part of the world itself.

The people that live in it are the part that shows the contrast the most clearly, just as some inhabitants are kind, take care of each other and enjoy the wonders it has to offer, there was a few of them that seemed to spite everything that wasn’t like them, everything they didn’t like, and everything that wasn’t theirs. Sonic knows that, he’s been fighting that enough time to be named a protector.

All things considered, to him the world still meant kindness, endless opportunities, adventure… and it meant freedom.

Then it meant something else.

Between all his fighting and running, he met and befriended a lot of the ones that called him a hero before he could even process the title, some of them energetic, some hotheaded, and some unbothered, they reminded him that even if there was despair or tragedy, the world he knew and loved was still there.

At least it was there to him.

Getting to know all the world meant getting almost as much deception and anger as happiness, every new place meant new sceneries, new ways, and new people, and he wouldn’t want it any other way. Even if it meant taking all the damage himself, getting to know everything personally was better than blindly trusting anything he was told, he knew it was worth it; he confirmed it when he went through one of the worst parts to find the absolute best one.

The place wasn’t even bad looking, the nature growing harmoniously beside the artificial work, it gave a peaceful kind of vibe, the people seemed kind and respectful, kids playing and chasing each other while adults looked out for them from afar, even welcoming him with open arms not caring if he was a stranger, “a united and caring community”, no sight of conflict or cruelty came to view, they didn’t seemed to have any hate in them. Only kind words and even warm chilli dogs greeted him. He thought this was the kind of place he would fight for.

That thought lasted less than an hour.

It really doesn’t take much longer than 10 minutes to completely change your perspective of a so called perfect community when after thirty minutes of an apparent peaceful environment you notice the sick looking child they suddenly chase down the woods so he doesn’t “steal their food and gives them bad fortune”. Sonic gives them a full minute of doubt, doubt to himself as what he’s hearing and seeing, because that can’t be right, because it must be a mistake. What reason could there be for a kid to “give bad luck”? Why would a kid need to “steal” food? And why would he be called a “curse”?

Some villager takes a long four minutes to explain the reason for all that, falling down to “that mutant was born with two tails”.

Sonic spends the next five minutes looking for the kid, and restraining himself from committing several crimes.

He had to focus, ending a full village’s whole career can wait, what cannot wait is the fox kit that just ran away from a group of kids leaving a trail of blood behind him. Even in the thick forest tundra it’s easy to see the big droplets of blood on the tree branches, the ground, and the tiny bush that kept trembling.

That’s where he found him.

A fox kit, didn’t looked any older than two, but by what he heard he could even be four. He looked way too tiny to be around four.

Big baby blue eyes greet him, a glassy sight, sorrow, confusion and sadness behind them.

The moment the fox noticed the speedster he tried to run, but the bush was too thick around him, and his back was facing a big tree log, he was trapped, the kid flinched every time he moved towards him, whined whenever Sonic rose to stand, and even started silently tearing up while curling around his tiny bruised body when he tried to reach for him. This kid thought Sonic wanted to hurt him.

How much does a kid has to suffer for his first reaction to some one approaching him being to cry, tremble and try to protect themselves?

Sonic can’t decide what enrages him more, the matted brown fur that surely must mean a long time without proper care for it, the bruised skinny body that trembled every few seconds as if it couldn’t stand by itself, the obviously recent bleeding nose that made the fox kit whimper every time he breathed, or the so clear loud sound of an empty stomach.

This was the result of long period of abuse and neglect, and by the way the kid hugged his twin tails while crying, Sonic would even call it torture.

Sonic couldn’t help him without getting close to him, but the kit wouldn’t let him near him without flinching. Putting the kid through more distress was not an option, but leaving him alone wasn’t one either, and the kid needed help, so he stayed. Sitting beside the trembling bush, taking watch in case some of those hollow hearted villagers came back while thinking of a way of helping the kid.

This is not the kind of help Sonic is used to offer, but he cannot just leave the kit alone. Even if he didn’t know anything about taking care of younger kids, even if his first aid kit was almost empty in his plane far away from him, even if the fox cried at the very sight of him, Sonic won’t leave him alone.

He doesn’t remember feeling like this before. Frustrating, he remembers some adults calling it, a feeling of helplessness, anger, and even sadness that consumes one self through the impossibility of effective action, in his case, the impossibility of helping.

And so he found himself, frustrated, sitting on the forest ground while rubbing his eyes with his hand, who knew, frustration is stressful; he kept at that for a few long minutes, until he felt a slight touch in his back. Finding those big blue eyes when he turned his head, a tiny gloveless paw patting him gently, careful with his quills but yet touching them, trying to comfort him.

This kid could barely stand, was obviously scared, at the verge of tears, and hurting from the beating the other kids gave him; and he was trying to make Sonic feel better.

It was clear now, they didn’t seemed to have any hate in them because they put all the cruelty and hatred in a kid, an innocent, tiny, and so kind hearted kid. The same village that greeted Sonic with kind words and offered him warm food was willing to let a literal toddler starve, if he wasn’t killed by the village’s youngest inhabitants first. All over something that wasn’t even bad, it wasn’t even his fault.

That won’t do.

Looking less distressed than before but still trembling wasn’t an ideal state to approach the twin tailed kit, but again, the kid needed help, the most urgent now being probably first aid, but Sonic sadly knew that the thing that would calm down the kid more would be something to eat.

Sonic offered him a smile, an attempt to soothe him, standing as slowly as he could not to scare the kid, and running as fast as his legs allowed him to return with four chili dogs was the game plan, managing to startle the kid a little bit with his rushed return, with the most difficult part of the plan being convincing the kid that the food was for him, that he could eat, that it wouldn’t hurt him, that Sonic wouldn’t hurt him.

Words might be useful to communicate that, but they just might, this kid was obviously casted away from society, who knew since when, he might not even understand him, well, if he used words that is, for now he hopes his smile would do (that and him eating a chili dog himself so the kit would know it’s safe).

It took a while, but it seemed like the fox’s empty stomach finally convinced him to eat, his hands trembling as he grabbed the supper, eyes getting a different kind of teary as he took his first bite, his twin tails wagging as he devoured his second chili dog.

Sonic wasn’t much of a baby person, sure they were cute and all he didn’t saw the big deal, all babies were the same. But seeing this little kid, a hurt toddler, starting to smile and wet his eyes over something as simple as warm food.. while a part of him was burning with rage, another part of him couldn’t help but think that he wanted to see this kid truly smile.

He wonders how could anyone see this kid with anything but love.

So he stayed around him, always with a smile, but even bandages, chili dogs, and big smiles couldn’t help much with the kids perspective of the word, much less the perception of himself.

The only world the fox knew before Sonic was a merciless one, rejection, hate and cruelty being its main traits, with bad people who would hunt him down, hit him and hurt him because he was the bad one, just for existing in the same time and place as all of them, but not being the same as them. He believed he really was the bad one for some time.

Sonic wouldn’t allow that for any longer, so he took the best part of the world with him and never planned to return it.

His life wasn’t the ideal deal for a toddler, he couldn’t give him a traditional family structure, a roof over his head, or a warm bed, but he also didn’t trusted anyone else to take care of him, he didn’t trusted the world to take care of him. So he would take the job himself, this kid wouldn’t go a day without warm food, he would never lack shelter, and as long as Sonic was around, he would always protect him.

But Sonic still was a hero.

Sonic fought and ran, ran and fought, and when the running and fighting from him alone seemed like not enough, the kit didn’t even doubted risking his own life to help him.

After a life of suffering, as little and scared as he was, at barely four years old, he still wanted to protect the world that wronged him.

The world doesn’t deserve this kid.

But it was the world itself that gave Sonic the title of protector, guardian, and hero; he knows there are things worth fighting for, far more than the things that wouldn’t deserve any kind of protection.

He won’t deny the title, ever.

Because even if some day everything around him comes down, everyone gets mad and bad, and his own hope is questioned, he’ll still have a reason to fight.

After all, this kid is his world.

[sexlapis]

# TAINTED FLOWERS

nanami x student!sorcerer!reader

synopsis: you were fed misleading details about the mission you were given. nanami is late to the scene.

gender neutral reader, angst, death (not of reader or nanami), hurt/comfort, descriptions of death, blood, dead bodies & gore, protective nanami, mentions of haibara, can be read as platonic or romantic

wc: 2k

a/n: in a sad mood, i miss nanami & i wanted to write something a little dark so here ^_^

posted on ao3 here

masterlists

*

uneven gasps leave you mouth, your chest heaving heavily with each breath. blood soaks the blue colour of your uniform as you sit on your knees, staring at the aftermath of the chaos which ensued minutes before.

what once was lavender-coloured, fragrant flowers and fresh, verdant grass, were now painted crimson, tainted and sodden with the blood of your ally, who lay mere feet away, still, limp and unmoving.

regretfully, you look to where she lay, hoping that by some miracle, she is fine and well and victorious.

the sight of your friend has you heaving.

well, what remained of your friend.

whatever lower body she once possessed, was gone. ripped and essentially disintegrated. what it left is a deep puddle of red that pools around her widely. her patent, mary jane shoes stand in the puddle and her ruffled, previously white socks rest in them, dripping and soaked in her own blood.

her face. her face. her face.

it was barely recognisable. it was hardly even there-

acid falls out of your mouth and onto the grass on the ground, burning your throat and mouth. your clammy hands grip your thighs as the last remnants exit your body. droplets of sweat litter your forehead as you quiver, your limbs weak. they feel weighed from the battle and the fast loss of adrenaline.

you have the instinct to check on her. to make sure she’s dead or to check she’s alive, you don’t know.

but you know. deep down, you know.

mushy, salmon flesh is sprayed upwards from where her head is, the most is piled up at her “skull”, like a mountain of slush. an eyeball bulges in the middle of it all.

tears stream down your face before you even realise it, in shock, fear, despair, anger and disbelief.

low risk mission, they said.

it won’t be too dangerous, they said.

you will both be able to handle it, they said.

lies. lies. lies.

you hear faint shouting, your mind far, far away from earth at this point as you look at what was a friend of yours.

you hear running on the grass, and the yells becoming louder and louder, the ringing and screeching in your ears coming to a closing halt as you finally hear who is calling out for you.

“_____!”

nanami.

turning your head to the side slightly, you watch nanami sprint towards you, the fastest you have ever seen him go, stopping a few metres away from you, weapon in hand ready to fight. you look back to your friend.

nanami stops, breathing steadily as he takes in his surroundings. he spares a glance at the body of your peer, now not even a body - just flesh waiting to be consumed by the birds of death, who clean away the morbid remains of the dead and let the cycle of life repeat itself.

the way she died, the way her body is, reminds nanami of-

he brushes such thoughts away quickly, focusing his intentions on you.

when ichiji had rushed up to him, stammering and panicking over two fairly new fourth grade students who have somehow accidentally been sent to a handle a first grade curse, nanami prepared for the worst.

and the worst it was.

you jump and twitch uncontrollably, not even acknowledging nanami’s presence. you gulp, mouth dry and lips cracked and sit on the ground, clothes now sure to be stained with soil and grass markings at the knees.

nanami approaches you carefully, not wanting to startle you when you are in a clear state of consternation and distress.

“_____,” he whispers, kneeling down beside you. he reaches out, wishing to examine you for injuries but you flinch wildly, yelping, almost falling over yourself.

“hey!” nanami stables your, putting both hands on your forearms, “it’s just me. nanami. your mentor.”

that seems to snap you out of your lost stupor a little. you blink at him.

he sees blood splattered on your face and doesn’t know if it’s yours or not. you don’t know either.

nanami takes the opportunity to scan your body for any serious injuries and comes up empty, only seeing your blood-coated uniform and hands. he finds your eyes, red and watery.

“are you alright?” he asks. he knows it’s a stupid, stupid question as soon as it leaves his mouth, but he’s not sure what to say at this moment, to someone who just watched their friend be killed by a monster right in front of their eyes.

heavy breathes leave your mouth along with incoherent mumbles, looking around almost frantically, you’re on the edge of hyperventilating before you find his kind eyes again.

you blubber, going to turn your head to your friend’s body. “she-she’s..she’s-” you gasp in crescendo, words unable to leave your mouth, still in shock.

nanami turns your head back to him delicately, “don’t look at her.” you don’t want to see that more than you have to, he knows that well enough.

nanami waits, letting you fumble and stutter and trip over your words, still holding your arms, before you’re falling forwards into his hold, crying and weeping into his blazer, screams muffled by the fabric which you will most definitely ruin.

nanami starts at the sudden action, shocked but at the same time, knows that your behaviour is not surprising.

he was prepared for dead bodies, blood baths, life-threatening, powerful curses that he had battled before.

but somehow, nanami was not prepared for this. to comfort a person who has just lost their friend in a slaughter.

you head lay solid on his chest, wetting his clothes, but he doesn’t even bring himself to care about that. nanami envelops you in his arms, pulling you closer, cradling the back of your head as he holds you to his chest. the soft gesture simply makes you sob harder, wrapping your arms tighter around his waist as he rocks you gently.

“it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s over now.” the words tumble out of his mouth, like he knows what to say in this situation, like he’s being the person that he himself needed. “shh, shhhh, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

the sky is inked with marigolds, the tender, honey colours of the clouds and sun shine a contrast in the mood and what you have just experienced.

blood glitters on the grass and flowers, shiny and slick.

you and nanami stay there just like that for a long while. long enough to where you bawls, screeches and grieves turning into sniffles, whimpers and hiccups.

nanami moved back a short distance, still holding you. “we need to leave, now.” he states. he inspects your face and body once more, “can you stand?”

you don’t respond for a few moments and nanami is patient. with a weak nod from you, nanami begins to rise from his kneeling position, clasping your hands in his own as he helps you to your feet. your legs are shaky, unsteady like a new-born lamb.

he supposed that’s what you are in a world like this. a lamb who had no idea what they were walking into.

you stumble a little and nanami holds your hands tighter.

licking your lips, you glimpse behind you, back to the deceased. “wh..what about h…her?”

“…someone will come to get her.” there’s no gentler way nanami can put that.

you hum and nod again.

arms crossed and still quivering in your bones, you blink away tears. you just want to go home.

then, nanami is shrugging off his suit jacket, and placing it around your shoulders, the size of it dwarfing you, the fabric warm and comforting, protecting you from the harshness of the world and reminding you of the protector that nanami is.

he wraps an arm around your shoulders, guiding your forward and away from the bloodbath.

footprints of vermillion are left in your wake.

*

the journey back is quiet.

when arriving at the car, ichiji goes to say something, but is silenced with a quick glare from nanami.

nanami opens the door for you, helping your inside and sits in the back with you. he puts your seatbelt on, securing it around your body before doing his own.

you’re looking down, at your hands that are dry and splotched red, occasionally snivelling and breath hitching. you felt cold for some reason, even in nanami’s jacket and the summer heat your leg bounces continuously.

as nanami looks at you in the corner of his eye, an unconscious but truthful thought floods nanami’s mind.

even after all these years, after all his time away from jujutsu society and slaving away in the grand rat race, one thing has always been clear.

nothing will ever change. and nothing he does will change anything in the grand scheme of things. he could dedicate his whole entire life to serving jujutsu and it wouldn’t even crack a dent in the system.

haibara’s smiling face and bronze, crinkled eyes come to mind. then follows, the reminder of his untimely, brutal death, how he died because of a mistake an adult who should have known better made, how his death meant nothing then and means nothing now, how his bloody torso was all that remained of him and how he lives on only in nanami’s memories.

nanami groans.

why did i even come back here?

he hears you sniffle and clear your throat. you let out a breath and he looks down at you. you’re still staring ahead, but he can tell you’re about to say something.

“will…will i..be in trouble?” you croak out, a small sob escaping your mouth. “i..i did everything, i-” more cries interrupt your sentence, images of minced, pink flesh coming to mind once again, and you cover your face, gasping as your shoulders shake.

nanami is reminded of your youth, your inexperience and desire to please the adults around you with that question alone. you, who just witnessed the death of a friend, are afraid of disappointing an adult who you probably do not even know of.

his heart beats a little faster and he exhales a little, not angry at you, but at the inevitable circumstances that this “job” has on one so young and, for lack of a better word, innocent.

“_____,” he sighs, quite a sad sound. he removes his goggles and leans down a little to get a look at your face. you continue to cry. “look at me, please.”

you whimper and do as he says, your face clearly hot, eyes drowned in tears, the skin around them matted with wetness, and nose running and sniffling. your eyes had a far away, distanced look, one of devastation, destroyed childhood dreams and a permanently changed life.

“you are not in any trouble, _____” he tells you, his brown eyes filled with sympathy, reassurance and another trait that you cannot quite place. “and you will not be in any trouble. i won’t let that happen.”

you hum sadly in response, closing your eyes and shaking your head as a few more tears fall from your eyes.

nanami cups your face with one broad, gentle hand, catching one of your tears with his thumb and erasing it into the soft skin of your cheek. he caresses your shoulder with the other. “i won’t…” he trails off, speaking more to himself than anybody else.

choking on a cry, you shuffle closer to him, resting your head on his chest, ruining his blue shirt even more. he doesn’t hesitate to hold you in his arms, something that seems so natural and familiar to him.

nanami thinks this is so unlike him, to comfort a student so closely, but he does not stop. you need this. it reminds him of why he took this job in the first place and why he left and why he came back once again.

why he keeps going, going, going when he is more than able to just stop.

“i won’t…”

*

next week, you are appointed to third grade sorcerer level and your eyes are blank and your heart is empty.

a/n: this turned out darker than i expected tbh lmao 😕😕😕

[calmcoldevening]

Hiii I love your writing could I maybe request some slashers with a s/o who has insomnia

(Add rz Michael and Bubba please

You can add other slashers to)

Oh kitten, thank you for your request ♡︎ I hope it could make you feel better and help to sleep. These boys are all for you

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Slashers with s/o who has insomnia

Characters: Michael Myers (RZ), Bubba Sawyer, Hannibal Lecter, Mark Hoffman

Warnings: mention of cannibalism (just a little, because it's Bubba), insomnia, just problems with sleep, but I tried to make it hurt/comfort

Ps: English is not my native language, so sorry for misspells

Michael Myers

• Expressing emotions towards another person is clearly not Michael's strong point. But when it comes to you... It's something else.

• At first, he didn't pay much attention to your condition, or rather, he just didn't know yet that such apathy and nervousness is something bad. Michael just thought he wasn't used to you yet.

• But still something made him think about it.

• As soon as Michael got used to physical contact, he literally began to feel a hunger for touch. He wanted to touch you, hug you and just feel your tender skin on his rough one. A man slept with you. When he was sure that you were deep asleep and would not notice it, he pressed his huge body against yours like a frightened kitten. He was desperately clutching the fabric of your pajamas, sinking into a restless sleep.

• But that has changed now. You went to bed late, if you went to bed at all, and sometimes you woke up in the middle of the night. Now Michael was falling asleep without your little figure next to him. It was like this.. alien and unpleasant.

• It seemed eerily wrong. You spent less time with him and seemed to be flying in your thoughts all the time, although in fact your body was just trying not to switch off due to lack of sleep. Michael became more aggressive and killed his victims with greater brutality.

• But as soon as the usual veil of anger fell away, and his pitch-black eyes turned soft blue again, Michael noticed in your gaze.. sadness? despair? His heart squeezed a little. Then he really thought about your condition. It probably happened a month after your days became more frequent with insomnia. And he really didn't know what to do.

• But Michael is a smart boy, he found a way out. How easy it was to watch old Loomis for a few days, who, probably because of his work, often experienced insomnia. How to solve this problem? Michael watched the man through the window. Pills? Michael hates pills, and he doesn't want you to become addicted to them in any way. Doctor's visit? Michael wouldn't really want you to have contact with another person, especially if it's a man. Just thinking about it made Michael's heart ache.

• But how does he cope with stress himself? Now he takes out all his accumulated anger and emotions in murders. A knife in his hand and someone else's blood on it cause a man a pleasant wave of trembling. But you can't kill. No, he will never allow you, his fragile flower, to get your soft, tender hands in someone else's vile blood and flesh.

• Although as a child, when he was sad or bad, Michael ate candy... Indeed, sweets. Perhaps it is sweets that will help you cope with stress. It seems that chocolate causes the production of serotonin?

• You were sitting in the bedroom and reading a book, or rather, trying to. Everything was in a fog in my head, and the letters occasionally floated before my eyes, but as soon as your head touched the pillow, drowsiness immediately disappeared, as if it had never existed. Flipping through the next page, you look up and notice the giant figure of your boyfriend in the doorway. Surprisingly, he is wearing his still clean overalls and an orange papier-mache mask. Dirty blonde hair falls gracefully over his broad shoulders. You can't read his stoic expression, but you can see him hiding something behind his back. When you finally pay attention to him, Michael starts walking slowly in your direction. He climbs onto the bed, the mattress will crumple under his weight. Next to your side, he puts a bag with a lot of sweets, and he grabs your legs and climbs between them. The man gently squeezes your hips and puts his head on your lower abdomen, gently rubbing his nose against your skin through your clothes. Like a kitten. Michael was not a fan of soulful conversations, so he preferred actions and touches. You glance briefly at the package and notice inside, in addition to sweets, a small note. Clumsy and a little sloppy, as if written in a child's handwriting: "Hug me if you can't sleep. I'm near."You smile, and your heartbeat quickens. You gently touch Michael's tangled hair with your fingers, starting to slowly stroke them. It's relaxing. I could swear that a long purr is coming from the chest of this giant.

Bubba Sawyer

• Bubba started to worry a lot when he found out about your insomnia. He begins to take care of you and shield you from stress in every possible way.

• When the Sawyers need to deal with uninvited guests, you are usually sent for a short walk with one of the brothers so that you don't worry about strong screams. Or you're just out in the backyard enjoying a warm Texas day.

• Bubba gives you a lot of hugs. Very much. At night, he does not let you out of his arms, fearing that something might happen to you. He is very attentive. A man always makes sure that when you go to bed, the room is cool and dark, and the sheets are soft and pleasant to sleep on.

• Before going to bed, you definitely take a walk in the garden. Even if he is tired, Bubba will still sit with you on the grass, admiring the stars and gently squeezing your little neat hand. He values you very much.

• Bubba will also try to give you lighter food. No hard-to-digest human meat and barbecue, just fruits and vegetables.

• By nature a gentle and simple person, Bubba will give you a mug of warm milk before going to bed. They always gave it to him when he was little, and he fell asleep quickly.

• When the two of you go to bed, Bubba cuddles you to her, making soothing sounds and mumbling like a lost puppy. He clings to you and tries to show you all his love and comfort.

• Bubba has big and strong hands. So in the evenings, about two or three times a week, he gives you a relaxing massage. Trust me, he does it like a real professional. These hardened by long years of hard work can do a lot.

• Bubba will try to talk about your problem with Drayton. Bubba really wants to help you. Even if it means you have to leave him. Bubba will try to persuade Drayton to take you to the city to see a doctor. He loves you so much, his sunshine, the man doesn't want you to suffer.

Hannibal Lecter

• You periodically had trouble sleeping, but you didn't want to bother the Lecturer with this. After all, he has enough problems of his own, besides, he is a psychiatrist and deals with the problems of his patients, he does not need to worry about you once again.

• So you thought when another sleepless night came.

• You were quietly sitting on the windowsill in the bedroom and listening to music. Hannibal, as always, lingered in the office, so you were completely immersed in your thoughts. The light melody somehow reduced the unpleasant heaviness of your head. It seems that you wanted to sleep, but at the same time, your brain did not want to turn off in any way. There was a strange emptiness inside.

• Being in your thoughts, you didn't notice how a big but gentle hand touched your shoulder. Lifting your head up, your eyes instantly met his — bottomless and dark, like thick blood. The man's eyebrows moved slightly to the bridge of his nose, and he gave you a quick glance from the bottom up.

• "Why aren't you sleeping?" His gaze slid to his wristwatch, "It's one o'clock in the morning, dear."

• The answer was only your empty, uncertain look. The man instantly connected the dots, sighing heavily. "Insomnia?" A slight nod. Hannibal gently touches your chin with his fingers, stroking the skin and leaning his forehead against yours. "You should have told me earlier, honey. I'm a psychiatrist."

• After a couple of minutes, your tired body was already peacefully resting in Hannibal's arms. He carried you to the bathroom, sitting you on the edge of the tub and slowly starting to draw hot water. The man added a little lavender oil and a nice soft bubble bath. As soon as your body touched the cherished warmth, a blissful sigh escaped from your chest. A smile touched Hannibal's lips.

• "That's it dear. Close those beautiful eyes of yours," he almost sang in his sweet, slightly hoarse voice as he sat down on the side of the tub. He rolled up his sleeves and took some shampoo, starting to wash your hair. His movements are precise, gentle, soothing. Your eyes slowly close, as if filled with lead, and your heart begins to beat in a calmer rhythm. It was so sweet of him. This man knows exactly what he's doing. A little later, he massages your shoulders and neck, relaxing the muscles tense after long sleepless nights. The subtle scent of lavender and his firm hands created a pleasant duet in your mind, starting to slowly put you to sleep. It's as if in one moment all that stress disappeared from your soul, being replaced by a clear lack of sleep.

• "That's it, honey. Let me take care of my love."

• After a while, Hannibal will help you get out of the bath and put on clean pajamas consisting of your favorite shorts and his loose shirt. He knows that his things make you feel comfortable and safe.

• Under his careful guidance, you will slowly return to bed. Cool sheets on your hot skin after a bath now seem like a real paradise. Sleep begins to slowly take over your mind as Hannibal's arms gently wrap around your smaller body.

• "Sweet dreams, darling."

Mark Hoffman

• Mark knew well what it meant to have trouble sleeping. Because of all his work and the Designer, he was often stressed and could not sleep peacefully.

• So when he noticed you had insomnia, it really started to worry him. Not to say that Mark was a very gentle and kind partner, but he tries. Therefore, first of all, Mark will certainly take you to the doctor and use any possible method of treating your insomnia, no matter if it is a special massage or medications.

• In addition, Mark knows that, first of all, insomnia occurs against a background of great stress and excitement. Therefore, he will try to give you maximum support. A man will try to do most of the housework, not allowing you not to overwork. He will do his best to give you support, both physical and emotional.

• Every evening certainly ends with a warm hug. You know, in his big hands you will really feel loved and safe. You can sit in the living room and watch some quiet movie. Or you will just lie together in the bedroom: there is a subdued light around, the moon shines softly through the window, gently tracing his rough features with a milky white light; you lie wrapped in a soft blanket in his arms, Mark's head rests on top of your head. You can talk about the past day or just be silent, enjoying each other's company. After a while, he will begin to gently hum some kind of lullaby, from which you will wearily close your eyes. In his hands, you have nothing to worry about. He will always be with you, no matter what.

• "I promise you that it's going to be okay, we will get through this together."

• Often your evenings can end with a mug of hot herbal tea. Warm drinks are always soothing, so he can try.

• You may notice one more detail. When you try to fall asleep with him, he deliberately presses you closer to him. His shirt smells like lavender. The delicate scent of the flower pleasantly tickles your nose, causing a smile. Surprisingly, your brain calms down, you begin to feel sleepy. Mark specially bought a new lavender laundry conditioner, knowing that it could help you calm down.

• Every day he will constantly remind you how important you are to him. If he leaves for work before you, he leaves different stickers with inscriptions all over the house. On the refrigerator, on the bathroom mirror, on the bedside table. "It's not your fault you have insomnia, baby. You're important to me. I love you very much. You're doing enough. I'm proud of you." While at work, he often sends you cute messages and pictures. And although he himself is not strong in such things as romance, the fact that he sees your smile encourages him to try even harder.

• Mark buys you big stuffed animals so you have someone to cuddle with while he's at work. There are also lots of milkshakes in the fridge now, and there are different teas in the cupboard to help you relax. And although he tries not to give you a lot of sweets, he buys your favorite fruits and nuts to adjust your nutrition.

• He really cares and cares about you. Mark will try to do everything in his power to help you, dear.

[justpoliteconversations]

Comfort [Yandere!Chain + Isekai!Reader]

You're part of the family now, and everything that entails.

I have fallen deeper into the abyss. Just exploring the new, untested dynamics of this latest indulgence. It's a hot mess, so be warned before you read.

Masterlist

Sky Route

Four Route

TW: Yandere nonesense. Be warned.

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise. Linked Universe is the fan creation of jojo56830.

---

Meeting the Chain had seemed like a dream come true at first. Of course, there had been the pain and disorientation of being ripped from everything you knew without warning, but meeting the boys and procuring thier promise for aid had calmed you significantly.

So, rather than despairing and falling into the throes of depression, you instead set your mind to learning of the world around you. And of course, you spent a lot of that time observing the boys and their behaviors (curious as to what so many fans had gotten right or wrong).

You wished you hadn't. You wished you'd kept to yourself. Ignored their very existences and just stayed focused on getting home. Wished you'd never been found by them.

You wish you'd set boundries sooner. If you had, maybe none of this would be happening. Maybe you'd be free.

"Hey. It's going to be okay." Twilight whispered softly from behind you, voice low and sorrowful as his large, warm hand pet you carefully upon the back. As though that would somehow bring you comfort after what he did.

You couldn't face him. You refused to meet any of their eyes. The bandages on your back burned against your torn skin where Hyrule had been prevented from properly healing you.

'A reminder', Wars had said, eyes cold and unforgiving, and Time had stayed quiet, only offering your cowering form a disappointed frown. Hyrule had wailed and snarled at the thought of leaving you in pain, but Legend had quieted him with soothing whispers (though he himself looked borderline rebellious too).

Wind had grit his teeth, eyes blazing hellfire, and looked ready to tell Wars off for that, but Time had placed a gentle hand on his head and given him a sad, rueful smile. To which Wind had huffed but remained silent, but not before casting (Big Brother) Wars a look that promised many unfortunate incidents in the near future.

Twilight had continued to hold you upright as your punishment was handed down. Calloused fingers caressing lightly, possessively, over the still bleeding wounds along your torn back. You swear you saw pride in his face as the verdict was decided that since he caught you, until you recovered you'd be his responsibility.

At the memory of that smug glint in his eyes, you curled further away from his soft, comforting (frightening, blood-chilling) touch, and he pulled back obligingly. A heartbroken sigh left his lips, torn so raw at the seams it almost broke your resolve to ignore him right then. Until you reminded yourself of what he (what they) were capable of despite their sweet, adoring smiles and soft attentions.

Twilight had been so damned gentle with you since that night, relieved and apologetic both. And terribly guilty. Nothing like the feral beast that had chased you down without regard for your fear or wellbeing. Took you down like thrashing, wailing, vulnerable prey when you bolted for the bright, shining portal that whispered home, comfort, safety (and freedom) that had appeared so suddenly.

Nothing like the monster that had torn into the back of your shirt (and flesh) with savage teeth, snarling and growling, ripping you away from salvation with punishing strength. Desperate, predatory eyes shining like death in the portal light, the hairs lining his powerful back standing on end and lost to the shadows that clung to his massive form.

Nothing like the man who had come after, large, burning, painfully tight hand shackled around your wrist. Cruelly dragging you on your knees from escape, shadowed eyes glowing unnatural, eerie blue in the dim light of a waning moon. No different from the creature that had drawn blood upon your defenseless skin, merely wearing a more familiar face.

And the way he had stared upon you once the light of promised safety had faded entirely. Eyes dark and bright and sharp with the threat of violence. Of sanity lost. Watching down at your whimpering, shivering, pain-racked form with quiet possession, dark promise.

The moment for escape had been so perfect, that night. You had finally managed to convince Wild to give you a moment of privacy. Convinced Time that you just wanted an hour of peace from Red's needy whines and Hyrule's obsessive tending. Managed to distract Warrior's keen eyes with a word of praise in Wind's ear and the promise of stories from your homeland. Sidestepped Sky's soft, curious eyes as you walked passed.

You had been alone. For the first time in three months. And it had been liberating.

And then the portal had appeared, and you hadn't thought of anything else after that. Not of consequences. Not of the Chain's anger or the darkness that hid behind soft, adorning gazes. And not of the way their eyes watched you always.

Not of the eyes on you even then. For you had forgotten that you are never truly alone. Not until you were reminded.

Not until that first, bone chilling howl of rage.

"We should move them closer to the fire." Came Hyrule's concerned voice, hovering just on the other side of Twilight (he must have escaped Legend's clutches. the man had been keeping Hyrule under strict supervision after The Incident). "They may be cold from blood loss."

Before Twilight could reassure his obsessively worried brother (once again) that all was well and that you were just upset, Four spoke up. Sounding just as ragged and agitated as you felt. "The Incident was three days ago. There was never issues with blood loss to begin with." He sounded done, tired. Pissed even.

You didn't doubt it. After the chaos that had ensued that night, it was decided (by Green and Vio and reluctantly Red) that merging was the most viable option to ensure a safe (quiet) and stress free environment for you to recover in.

Blue had come to blows with Twilight three times before the night had even ended after The Incident (he'd fought Legend twice. had only been prevented from triggering the sociopath that is Wars by Time's intervention). Red have been crying nonstop since you were first carried back to camp by a shame-faced Twilight. Green was running damage control to keep Wars from challenging Twilight for rights to safekeep you. And Vio had dutifully sacrificed his body to cuddles, forehead kisses and soft (distressed) cooing to placate the ticking time bomb that was Sky's protective instincts.

You almost pitied the small smith. Until you remembered how Blue had wanted to take your legs, and Vio had gotten a calculated glint in his eyes. And then you didn't feel bad for him anymore, even with the memory of Red sobbing his eyes out and Green talking Blue down before Wild got it in his head to put himself (and thus Twilight) between the Colors and you protectively.

At some point during Twilight's, Four's and Hyrule's discussion (argument) Wild had arrived with his characteristic brashness. Breezing past all of them, as usual, and putting himself squarely into your space. And Twilight let him, because Wild was one of his, and now (for the time being) so were you.

The scarred man took you in his arms (so easily, as though you weighed nothing at all), careful not to touch the tender wounds on your back, and made his way towards Sky. Hyrule made to protest, but by the low familiar hum of expectancy that sounded out, it looked like Legend had finally caught up to his wayward (stupidly determined to play mother cucco) charge.

You ignored them after that, but not before catching a glimpse of Four apologetically carding a hand through Legend's feather soft hair, cupping his vulnerable nape with tender care. Small, forge roughened fingers gripping lovingly as he whispered heartfelt apologies, eyes flashing red and speckled green and even blue at the edges. Witnessed how Legend melted under the touch, and how Hyrule had leaned into Legend's side with equal affection (and desperation for comfort. attention).

You wished you hadn't seen it. So you wouldn't have to remember the good that resided within these men, as well as the bad. About how much these men truly loved each other, and you, despite all the hurt they put you through that night.

Quiet sobbing caught your attention, and Sky was before you suddenly, though he was not the one making such heartbroken sounds. You had been lost in your head and hadn't even noticed how Wild had kissed into your hair in relief. Shedding tears of gratefulness that you hadn't screamed and thrashed at his touch (like that first night he tried to give comfort. before he sacrificed himself to Sky's doting).

Wild went to his knees before the sleeping Skyloft knight (crying silently in fitful slumber) and whispered warmly through soft sniffles. "Sky. They're right here, safe. See." He gently placed you down beside the tearfully sleeping man, and you let him. Too tired and overwhelmed by your own emotions to fight.

And too fearful. Because Sky was an enigma. Seemingly the most docile of all the boys, even Red and Hyrule, and yet Time, Wars and Vio all catered to him with due diligence (the three who knew the most, and controlled the most). Conceded to his every demand when it was made (rare as they were) and sacrificed any whom Sky called to for comfort and reassurance. Including themselves.

Claims did not matter when Sky wanted to hold you through the night. If Sky wanted to cuddle Wind, Wars would have to concede (even if it took Time and Green's combined efforts to keep him subdued). If he desired to brush Wild's hair into traditional skyloftian braids or spoon feed Hyrule sweet pumpkin soup like an infant, Twilight and Legend were made to step aside. If Sky wanted Time to sit beside him and speak of their beloveds, then it would be so. Even if it meant setting up camp early for the night. Even if it meant Blue, Legend and Wars bitched for hours afterwards (amongst themselves, of course).

In the eyes of the Chain, Sky was an outlier to the established hierarchy, and you had a feeling you knew why. You remembered the first time you felt the fear of wrongness amongst the men you called your friends (family). The moment of clarity.

You'd never forget the smell of smoke and iron reek hanging thick in the air, fanning out across the wasteland that was Hyrule's homeland. The blank and distant looks in the heroes' eyes as they emerged from the treeline. And Sky, covered in red, red, red. Like an ocean sunset dripping into calm waters. Like fresh berry juice between overzealous fingers.

He'd been crying then.

Sky rarely cries.

Sky had called for Hyrule for days after. Had kept him by his side as they walked and slept and ate. Had babied and coddled and smothered him with fierce devotion. And the chain had let him. Kept Legend and Twilight in check. Kept Blue forcibly subdued when Red riled him into a protective fury over his most vulnerable, sensitive brother's pitiful, longing tears for his Rulie.

So, when Wild had set you beside Sky, you remained quiet. Because you were afraid. And because you owed WIld.

Because when Sky called for you that night (still raw and shaking), Wild had straightened his back, looked Time in the eye and told him that you needed space. And then had given himself over to Sky's obsessive coddling, enduring the man's frantic petting and overbearing smothering.

For three days. After Vio had been merged back into Four. Wild had endured the babying for three days. Wild, the man who may have hated being tied down more than anyone else in the Chain.

You owed him, and if he thought time was up for your sulking. Well, there was nothing you could do. Especially not when Sky was in tears (dangerous, unstable).

The moment you were pressed into Sky's side, he immediately latched onto you (you were saved from pain only by Wild's arm sheltering your back), reddened eyes opening to reveal a tearful, shattered, truly unhinged gaze. "You came. You tried to leave us." He sobbed, burying his sleepy, splotchy face into your neck. His hands (so strong, enough to crush your windpipe if he wanted) gripping into the fabric of your shirt like a child seeking comfort. "I thought you hated me."

You wanted to snap that of course you hated him. That you hated them all for forcing you to stay here when home had been so close. Right there, you could feel it. You wanted to scream that you despised them for being silently complicit with your captivity, even if they weren't always the ones to physically hold you down.

You wanted to do a lot of things. Rage. Cry. Break something. Find words, accusations, demands, anything to make them understand the depths of your hurt and betrayal. To see how much they had taken from you.

And yet, frustratingly, you couldn't. The fight had been sucked right out of you at the sight of Sky's hurt, his soul-deep suffering. Because you loved these boys still, despite all the horribly broken affections they saw fit to shower upon you and each other. Genuine, but ultimately flawed and damaged (and damaging).

With Wild snuggling in from behind to sniff your hair contently (the creep), and a glimpse of Wind hovering longingly at the sidelines, unsure of his welcome. You felt your resolve breaking ever further.

In the firelight, Time leaned down to kiss Wars along the temple, ruffling his fluffy (beautiful) hair before retreating towards Twilight. He gathered the saddened, guilt ridden man in his arms and laid them both down for sleep, speaking soft reassurances into his descendant's dark hair. Warm, paternal smile on his lips.

Closest to the fire pit, Legend and Hyrule had Four trapped between them, Four resting his head peacefully on Legend's shoulder, and Hyrule sandwiching him from the back. Legend's arm draped over Four's small form to rest his hand possessively (protectively) on Hyrule's waist.

Warriors watched over this all with sharp, but quietly adoring, eyes. Scanning over you and the others around you with just as much of that overwhelmingly intense (too intense) devotion. Ensuring all was well and safe under his domain, before turning away to ensure nothing came from outside to disturb his peacefully resting family. Shield at his side and sword on his back. Loyalty corded into every line of his lithe form.

Wind had shuffled closer. Big (wondrously big) blue eyes locked on you and waiting. Wild's hand was on your hip, resting as he too waited patiently. Content to let you speak in your own time.

Sky's love stricken, adoring, grieving eyes locked with yours. Searching, waiting. A blade ready to drop across his heart and everything in it at the slightest of provocation.

And you broke. Because what else could you do.

"I don't hate you, Sky. I'm just so angry." You forced out, bitter for the truth of those words. "I just need time to forgive and heal."

Those shattered eyes lightened, the ragged edges softened, and suddenly you were looking at Sky again. Tender-hearted, fiercely protective but forever hopeful Sky. The Sky you trusted still with your life, for all you feared the zealous protectiveness that cast a very long shadow across his path.

"I understand. Twilight was so rough with you, and Warriors so harsh with your punishment." He said, and Wild huffed in agreement behind you. "It's only natural you'd want to return home. So they should have been more understanding of your feelings."

Wind, now at Wild's back, was on his knees with hands on Wild's waist as he leaned forward. "I'll put rocks in their boots every day 'til they say they're sorry! The small ones ya don't feel 'til it's too late!" He vowed, and you didn't doubt that. You'd seen Wars wincing and Twilight limping for a few days now, and now you knew why.

Your heart lightened, for all it felt shackled and confused and broken too. "Thank you guys." And you meant it.

As strange as it seemed. You really did mean every word of it. Truly and wholely.

Maybe you were a little broken too, after all. And as Wind settled behind your back, helped by Wild so he didn't agitate your injuries (he placed a gentle kiss on the bandages, so light you nearly missed it), you found you almost didn't mind.

Things were always complicated with family, after all.

---

Off I go. Back to the shadows to rest this one off.

[faetima]

𝐚𝐦𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐚 . .

. . judging by how many times you fell for him, you probably had amnesia.

// tws ; blood !! slight swearing ; gn reader ; modern & high school au, hanahaki au 

a/n: amnesia by boynextdoor is so good i love it sm i want to inject it into my veins

he was so ethereal, whether he was happy, sad, or pissed as fuck.

even as his face curled up into an ugly scowl or fell in despair or suddenly brightened with a subtle and soft smile, you couldn’t but find him absolutely gorgeous.

maybe that was why you were laying here on the ground now, pitifully hacking up pungent and bitter blue hydrangeas.

it was almost funny how the color of them were almost the same as sunday’s hair, just a little more blue than it.

it was also almost amusing how accurately they symbolized his response if you were to tell him your feelings; rejection.

your feelings were concealed within the hydrangeas too — regret and despair.

you sobbed as you heaved up the stupid blue flowers. they flopped onto the once clean floor ungracefully, leaving a trail of blood and mucus, of heartbreak and hopelessness.

maybe it would’ve been better if you had never laid your eyes on sunday in the first place.

—

as you saw sunday in school the next day, you felt yourself toppling head over heels for him all over again.

at this point you might as well have amnesia with how many times you’ve felt yourself falling in love with him again.

every time you saw his stupidly perfect face, his pretty wings, his fluffy grey-blue hair, you dug your grave deeper than it already was.

why did sunday have to be so fucking perfect, so fucking pretty, and so, so sweet?

—

it was dumb falling for someone you had barley talked to.

maybe if you pushed your shyness and anxiety aside you could’ve talked to him.

maybe you could’ve been acquaintances.

friends.

maybe even lovers.

but, alas, that was never going to happen.

you hated yourself so much — why couldn’t you just fucking talk to him? what the hell was wrong with you?

you sobbed, coughing out more of those wretched blue hydrangeas.

—

you were going to get the surgery.

it was useless dying over someone who didn’t even know you.

you could live without knowing him.

now you would get amnesia for real.

—

you woke up blearily, blinded by the extremely bright fluorescent lights of the hospital.

you did it.

you finally got the surgery.

you couldn’t remember what you got it done for, though.

—

after recovering, your parents saw fit for you to go back to school again.

you sat in your english class, waiting for your peers to fill up the empty room.

you watched people file in, chatter filling the room, bouncing off the walls.

and then you saw a face.

an extremely pretty face, paired with almost piercing yellow eyes and hair that reminded you of blue hydrangeas.

suddenly you started coughing. you brought your elbow to your mouth, muffling your coughs.

pulling away your face, a single blue petal drifted down to the ground, a little bit in front of you.

and then it was crushed by none other than sunday.

[empatheticxangel]

Liam blinked in surprise at the sudden hug but nuzzled the top of his head lightly. He wished he could've hugged back, he really could but with one arm and the need to use a cane, that was just not doable for now. He wished he could've messaged back, he wished he could've SEEN the messages in general.

He frowned softly when Eddy told him how much he was missed and how worried he had been. There was no expectation of anything less but the fact still stood he had caused someone he was close with distress and that was not something he ever wanted to do if he could help it.

"I-I'm sorry, I would've said something if I could. I ju--" he cut himself off unsure of what else to say. But there was a wave of relief washed over him when Eddy invited him in.

"Sure. You know I can't ever say no to cake." There was a soft bit of amusement in his voice and his eyes were no longer blue and purple but now more of a mix of blue and orange. "And I'm glad to see you again too. I really missed you. A-Are you sure I'm not interrupting anything though? It sounded like you were on your way out of the door?"

The first of the Angel's words fell on def ears, especially when Liam leaned into the touch. It confirmed everything before his words ever could, though an official confirmation snapped him out of it. Within seconds, he removed his hand only to wrap both is arms around the taller man. Burying his face against his chest and trying his best to control the tears that began spilling. "You're here, you're really here, thank the titan you're alive!!"

Of course he thought about it. Time and time again of how one day they were playfully throwing paintbrushes at each other and the next Liam was completely gone. For years he called and texted Liam's number, hoping for at least an "I'm ok", or just to hear his voicemail. But he was here now. And titan, he looked exhausted. It made him want to drag Liam into a pillow fort like when they were younger.

Faded skin, silvery hair, the eye-patch, the scars, the different tone in his voice, golden eyes so similar to his own, the entire missing arm. But purple and blue dancing across the other's face made him soften though.

"Long time no see is right, you ass!" He huffed half heartedly. Too relieved to really be angry, and still praying he wasn't about to wake up and find this to be a dream. "I missed you, I missed you so much. I didn't know what happened, you weren't answering your phone, I couldn't really try and come see you. You had me worried sick....I was so scared something bad had happened. I mean, a lot has clearly happened." He gave the angel a once over, and a worried smile. Liam came all this way to see him after all. "But you can tell me all about it later if you'd like, if you can. For now? I'm just so, so happy to see you again Liam.....Would you like to come in? We can have tea, and you can try some of the blood orange pound cake I made! It has rose flavored icing~."

[empatheticxangel]

TAG DUMP

Tag Dump 1

Of Mortal Blood || Human Form

Feathered Beauty || Angel Form

Gleefully Flying || Orange { Happiness }

Blinded By Rage || Red { Anger }

Coveted Wings || Green { Envy }

Adoring Fondness || Pink { Love }

Colorless Apathy || Gray { Numb }

Afraid to Take Flight || Purple { Fear }

Falling into Despair || Blue { Sadness }

Blessed Wings || Yellow { Fully Powered }

The Spoken Language of Angels || { Translation } -

[bysaber]

hello there! heard you were looking for something to potentially write. perhaps sanji from one piece? anything you like, gotta love that pathetic little man. hope you're having a good day regardless!

omg yes YES i can write sanji !!! that’s my MAN (tysm for requesting and i hope you’re having a good day as well <3)

cw. hurt/comfort, pre-relationship, miscommunications, smoking, reader goes through a depression crisis, no beta

wc. 0,7k

Sanji’s words were always breathtaking.

His devoted, spoken love was something that you couldn’t quite grasp when you first met, wondering how he could treat you so well when you barely knew him.

Of course, everything that left the cook’s mouth lost its effects when you joined the crew and learned about his personality. Every honeyed word directed to you felt empty, and you understood that was just who Sanji was.

It was nothing special, after all. Just a silly guy who’d pour his heart and scream absurd promises if you looked pretty enough for him — trying to get in your pants, maybe?

His praises still sounded like poetry, though.

And the knowledge of his antics couldn’t stop you from glancing down, trying to distract yourself from the growing want for those words to mean something.

It was hopeless.

As soon as Nami or Robin entered the room, his attention would split. He’d confess and dance and cry, leaving you with nothing but annoyance. He was hopeless.

But you didn’t know.

You didn’t know how desperate Sanji was for love, how agonizingly he craved attention. You didn’t know he was willing to crawl to lengths if it meant he could be cared for, even for a moment, by anyone.

Anyone — until you came.

You never realized you were the one he cherished the most, going out of his way to spend even a second longer with you, to share his space and invade yours. He just couldn’t bring himself to say it; he knew he would never recover if you explicitly denied his love.

It was only natural for him to keep going as the perv cook, pretending his heart didn’t burn in his chest every time you scoffed at his words. Turning to Nami and Robin to act like nothing had ever changed.

Could he survive without your love?

But he didn’t know — he didn’t know his own actions pushed you away. He didn’t know how you used to put your chin on your hand as you watched him cook, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips as thoughts crossed your mind. Thoughts you believed would never see the light of the day.

Sanji didn’t know he had you on the verge of falling for him several times, only to take a step back every time you felt like you would end up hurt.

The both of you were oblivious.

The kind of oblivion that blinds you for years.

That was, until that night.

The night you thought about how you wanted to disappear, sorrow and sadness filling your chest, the floor disappearing under your feet.

Sanji had nothing to do with that. It was just you dealing with your past and feelings, a moment of despair and depression. A moment every strawhat had to deal with at some point in their life.

You sat on the deck alone, past midnight, crying your heart out for things you couldn’t even comprehend. You were just sad, overwhelmed by agony.

That night, Sanji couldn’t sleep.

He had noticed how off you were acting throughout the day.

So he found you, silently weeping.

That night, Sanji sat by your side without a word. He took a cigarette from his pocket and smoked it as he heard you cry. Your head fell to his shoulder, seeking comfort, and he put the cig between your lips.

He knew it was bad for you, but he also knew you needed it.

Your tears came to a stop, and you shared the cigarette with him as the silence persisted. You were glad, though, for having him by your side at that moment.

You were so fucking glad for Sanji.

“Tell me something good,” you broke the silence, voice hoarse, and a smile slowly grew on his lips.

“I believe I’ve told you already about the All Blue,” he answers. A tentative smile grows on your face as well, and you scoot closer to him.

“Didn’t tell me enough.”

As the night passed, Sanji’s voice was all you could hear. His excitement muffled all your painful thoughts, his genuine passion igniting the will to live in your heart.

Sanji talked.

And you listened.

Under the stars, you finally let yourself fall.

[pearl-blue-musings]

I See You pt 3

Hi I know this is a long time coming. This is also gonna be in 4 parts not three cause well this got long

Pairing: pirate!Shinsou Hitoshi x fem!princess!reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, fingering, vaginal penetration, alcohol, drinking, unprotected sex, pretty lore heavy

Word count: 5.4K

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

The stuffy air of the palace dungeon smells extra pungent today. Despite being down there and held captive for years, his eyes have yet to adjust to the darkness of the rotting walls. The captive takes a deep breath and his lungs fill with smoke, mold, and the disgusting smell of his own excrement. He tries to keep the growing bile wanting to escape his mouth down as he hears pounding footsteps. Great, he thinks, what do they want to tell him now? The dimming light from the torch slowly approaching burns his eyes. He hisses as more light streams in and a few men come toward his cell, one figure he’s come to know against his own wishes. The gold that gleams from his crown does not match the wicked and sinister smile that lies underneath.

“Your disgrace of a daughter is dead.”

The booming voice of the king barely registers in the prisoner's mind. His daughter is dead? How? How can this be? He stumbles back farther into his cell, a series of mumbled words leaving his lips. A guard smacks the bars, shaking and startling the man inside. His jaded eyes meet the kings and there’s no sense of sadness or despair. There’s no love, just pure hatred and an unbridled desire for power. The man struggles to speak, feeling his voice rasp and scratch against his throat as empty tears try to fall. “You, you killed my family. My wife, my daughter… what more do,” he pants, “do ya want from me?”

In the midst of the darkness, the king is able to see weak and tired sky blue eyes and almost spits at the man behind bars. A sinister chuckle emits from the king's mouth that jolts the guards around him. The king bends down and reaches forward to grab an aggressive amount of hair on the prisoner’s head. “Let’s get one thing straight, pirate scum. Your daughter jumped into the open waters of the sea all on her own accord. I didn’t have to take in your hellspawn! I treated her with the utmost respect-”

“You hated ‘er. I heard ya was tryin’ to marry her off t’ the Todoroki’s. Guessin’ she didn’t like that. She was always a smart one.”

That earns the prisoner a harsh tug and smack against the bars. He groans in pain before chuckling. “What’s the matter? Ya upset you can’t control me?”

“Whatever that wench saw in you I will never know,” the king huffs with frustration. “How could she fall in love and bear the child of a pirate when I was second in line for the throne?! You gave all of that up!” The king starts to pull roughly on the prisoner so hard the guards had to pull him back. The bruised man behind bars continues to laugh at the struggles of the king, blood seeping from his nose and lips.

With a bloody and crooked smile, the prisoner responds: “I decided a pirate king was better suited fer a guy like me. And yer mad ma and dad lemme do it. And,” he coughs out, his bright blue eyes burning with a passion seldom felt…

“It’s not my fault she fell in love with me first.”

The starry nights on deck have started to feel different the longer you’ve been on your fathers ship. The sound of the waves crashing against the vessel have now come to calm you down as your mind races. You take a deep breath and welcome the salt and grime from the ocean and ship deck, smiling as the once unfamiliar sights and smells now bring you comfort. As you sit dangerously atop the gunwale, palms gripping the fortified wood as your legs sway above the depths of what could have been your grave. A part of you, hidden away still wonders what it would be like to be consumed by the waters that stole your father-

“Earth t’ princess? Ya not thinkin about jumping again are ya?”

Your stomach drops and fills with butterflies at the sound of a voice that has made you happier than you thought. Secure hands hold onto your hips and pull you off and into a firm chest. You feel a heat rise to your cheeks that you haven’t felt since that night with the prince. Shinsou looks down on you fondly before gently letting you go. A quick blush comes to his ears before he clears his throat and stands beside you. You both rest your elbows along the edge, letting your head rest against his arm. You suddenly find the courage to speak after letting your thoughts run wild.

“I hope,” you cough out, “I hope you get to be captain of this ship. I know it’s in my fathers name but, after our port stop a few days ago,I…” You trail off as you turn your head toward your companion and your voice is lost. There’s something about seeing Shinsou in the moonlight alone on the ship, his hair blowing in the wind, that has you believing in a future you never imagined. You never want to leave this ship. You don’t wanna leave his side. You want to stay with this crew and captain this ship with Shinsou by your side. Why has being on a pirate ship opened up a new side to you? It’s like this has been destined for you your whole life. If only your parents could see you now. If only.

Shinsou smirks and snaps in your face. “See somethin’ ya like? I know I do.” You blink quickly to catch his gaze, realizing you were just lost in your thoughts. Your chest heaves, you’ve never been this nervous ever in your life. Is it because you’re going back to your kingdom? It’s been weeks. “Hello? Princess? Ya alright?”

You shake your head on instinct and feel yourself wanting to close off. It’s like you’re back at the castle, being nervous in front of the king trying to get your voice heard. Your throat constricts and blocks your breathing as if the wrath of the king's commands are holding you back once again. It isn’t until you feel calloused hands grip and shake your shoulders that you take a deep inhale.

“Where’d ya go? Are ya really sure yer up for going to the kingdom?” Shinsou rubs your shoulders and walks you away from the edge. He walks you to his room, considerably smaller than the captain’s but well enough. The other crew members, specifically Midoriya and Bakugou, look on with concern. They both ask their quartermaster what’s going on but Shinsou waves them off. “Just some nerves, panicked a little. Keep up the night watch.” The duo salute him and the pair make their way to his private quarters.

There, he sits you on his bed as he grabs you something to drink. You take the cup from him and give a quick sniff, coughing from the strength of the alcohol. “Rum? Really?” Shinsou chuckles at your inquisition and shrugs his shoulders with a grin. “Imma pirate,” he chides, “‘ta be expected.” You couldn’t help but laugh with him, clinking your glass with his as you take a swig of the drink. You cough a bit, not used to the potency of the alcohol as your pallet has been adjusted to wine. It burns more than you would like but the taste is admirable. Shinsou watches you carefully as you drink, relaxing more into the situation.

It isn’t lost on him that the two of you are sitting on his bed as you share your drinks. The rum has you feeling more loose and relaxed, the most relaxed you’ve felt in years. And it might be the liquor, but you don’t want this night to end, this moment, this adventure… you never want it to stop. You fall back against his bed which causes Shinsou to laugh.

“You tryna choke? You gotta sit up when ya drink,” he chides with a small laugh. He tries to pick you up but you’re determined to bring him to where you are. The pirate finds himself falling under your pressure, his hand wrapping around your waist to try and get you up but you’re being a cute deadweight. He does his best to not squish you as you yelp from the surprise position. You find yourself now sharing breaths with the man on top of you. You suddenly realize his hand is on your waist, your chest is heaving up and down from the closeness and he doesn’t smell bad? Your head is swirling, but you’re not afraid of it. Your eyes travel from his own down to his lips which he keeps licking. Has he always been this alluring to you?

“Fuck, princess… can I kiss ya? I just, ya look…”

You gently whisper, “yes. Yes you ca-“

Shinsou doesn’t let you finish your sentence before he captures your lips in a long awaited kiss. His grip on your waist tightens and he shifts his legs to be straddling yours, almost naturally. Shinsou tilts his head and gently cups your face, feeling the callouses on his palms and fingertips caressing your cheek. You’re not sure where to put your hands as the kiss deepens, feelings of anxiety starting to rise within you. The only time you’ve ever been intimate in this way with anyone was before your supposed wedding, the night with the Todoroki prince. He had made you feel things you never thought were possible, sensations you’ve been wanting to relive again and again. And it’s starting to happen now as Shinsou began to grind his hips into yours. You find yourself placing your hands on his chest and matching his movements, spreading your legs wider instinctively. You want to be wrapped up in him, drowning in his touch and his scent.

Above you, Shinsou groans into your mouth as he repositions his arms to cage your head in. His eyes flutter open as the need for air becomes too great. Purple strands of hair start to press to his forehead as the heat in his room and between the two of you rises. He can already see the way your gorgeous pupils are becoming more and more dilated, similar to his own. He spots a bead of sweat trickle down your neck and he leans forward to suck on the warm skin. The way you moan and keen up into his chest goes straight to his cock and he sucks harder. Your fingers run through his soft tufts of hair, tugging as his lips go lower on your neck, nearing your collarbone. Your button up shirt is proving to be a hindrance and Shinsou sits up slightly. He takes a deep breath and makes certain eye contact with you. “May I?” His fingers play with the fabric of your top as he waits for your consent. The way he’s touching you with such care, such comfort, such possessiveness; where has he been your whole life? You almost want to tear up. No one in the kingdom will or had ever treated you this way and you doubt you ever will.

Your head drops in a nod and a whispered yes, while your hands fondle with his top eager to take it off. Shinsou nods back and rumbles out, “be patient, kitten. We’ll get t’ me.” You pout as he carefully undresses you, exhaling sharply through his nose at the sight of your naked body. Heat rushes to your cheeks but you don’t dare hide your expression. He smirks and sits up, the alcohol getting to him slightly. Shinsou struggles to take off his top and you find yourself giggling with him as he gets stuck. “Quit yer laughin’,” he chides. You can’t help but laugh harder as your hands touch the bottom of his top, which happens to be at his mid torso. Your jaw drops at how chiseled and rugged it is, your fingers running up and down the front of his body. His skin is littered in scars and you’re mesmerized by the potential stories each one has. You barely register that his top has hit the floor and Shinsou is openly staring at you ogling his body. He suddenly feels shy yet proud of himself at the same time.

Your fingernails brush against his skin and Shinsou shivers. Your eagerness to see him undress spurs him on to take your hands and force them to remove his top. The movement is intimate, and your hands end up pressing up his chest to finally feel him underneath you, his pecs making you keen. The heat is intense, your chest heaves as you pull him into another fiery kiss. This time there are no barriers barring you from truly feeling each other. His confident hand trails down your side and toward your front, diving lower to where you need him most. Your hands haphazardly reach for his pants to pull them down, then your own impatiently.

Shinsou steps out of his trousers with a horny chuckle as you kick your own away as well. He goes back to what he was doing before, his fingers travel toward your core. He curses at the heat and juices emanating from your now throbbing pussy. His breath gets heavy as he slowly rubs at your lower lips. A jolt shoots through you at how gentle yet possessive he is, making you moan loudly. A hand slaps over your lips as Shinsou continues to lubricate his fingers. “Princess,” he lulls out, “ya gotta be quiet. Do ya want the whole crew to hear ya?”

You shake your head with a whimper as he inserts a finger into your waiting cunt. Your hips move on their own against his hand, your own grabbing onto his shoulders. Your nails dig into the skin as he inserts a second finger, scissoring you open. The way your body moves and the sounds you emit go straight to his cock as he holds back a grumble of desire. A slimy warmth is felt in his palm and he realizes it’s your tongue. He hisses through his teeth as he gently removes his hand from your mouth. You pant with your tongue out, “I want more,” you whisper lustfully. “I wanna make you feel good.”

Shinsou clamps his hand over your mouth as he brushes and pushes the bottom of his other palm against your clit, earning him an almost silent whimper. Your body shakes at the increased pleasure. Shinsou’s cock twitches at the noise as beads of pre cum form at his flushed tip. Almost too quickly, he removes his hands from in and on you to place your hands above your head. Shinsou leans in close, the alcohol on his breath intoxicating you further. “Keep ya hands there, okay pretty girl?” You can feel his voice rumble in his chest as you nod at his request. He releases your wrists before sliding two fingers up your slit and coating his dick with it. Your throat strains to hold back the moan of ecstasy that wants to escape but you do as you are told (maybe you’ll find out what happens if you disobey him someday).

A calming hand rubs at your hip and inner thigh as he lines up with your entrance. The tip of his cock teases your lower lips and you keen against the bed. Shinsou takes a deep breath before calling out, “princess.” You gently meet his gaze and he continues in a low tone. “You can back out if ya want. There ain’t no pressure. Stop m’now before I get lost in all that y’are.”

The two of you may have started this under the influence of alcohol but there isn’t a sign of it at this moment. The two of you are drunk off of each other, slowly getting poisoned over the course of your relationship. You briefly disobey him and move your hands to cup his face, his stubble more present covered in sweat. Your legs widen as you hold his stare. “I want this. I want you.”

That was all he needed to hear before he slowly slid himself inside you. A whimper is caught in your throat as you hold onto him tightly. Your breath comes out labored as more and more of his length enters you. Shinsou shushes and coos at you, “I’ve got ya, ya doin so good f’me. Shit princess, my princess, ya feel so…”

He drops off as he bottoms out with a grunt. Sex with Shoto was great, but now you’re convinced your body was made for Hitoshi. Although he’s thicker and longer, the pain subsided easily as you adjusted to him. A ring of cream is already forming at the base of his cock and it takes everything in him to not fuck you senseless. The fucking can be saved for another day, he needs to make sure you know you’re loved.

“‘M gonna move.”

His hips slide out and then back in, meeting yours in a juicy squelch of skin against skin. Your toes curl and your jaw drops in an agonizing scream of pleasure that never comes. Shinsou slots his lips over yours to silence the two of you. The atmosphere is heavy with sweat and sex, nary a scent of rum from before. Almost naturally, you wrap your legs around his waist and he somehow goes in deeper. Both of you break the kiss to groan together at the new sensation. His body rolls and thrusts into you like a dance you never want to end or tire of. Your walls clench around him and he stutters slightly, his dick twitching inside of you. That coil inside has been wound up so tight and for so long that the spring is finally going to release. Your abs contract as you meet his hips with yours. You bury your head into his neck and whimper out, “I’m so close, baby. I wanna cum!” The way you beg for him to become undone almost makes him finish right then. He can feel how close you are with how you’re gripping his cock. He never wants to be without this feeling; a feeling he hadn’t realized he was looking for.

He takes one hand to cup your cheek as he pumps in and out of you faster, the other rubbing intense circles on your clit. Your toes curl and your muscles begin to shake from the intensity with Shinsou whispering in your ear. “That’s it baby, cum fer me. Want ya to cream all on my cock.” He pistons his hips faster, “fuck I’m gonna make ya all mine. Yer all mine.”

“Hnng, I’m cumming Hitoshi!”

“Kiss me.”

With your hair stuck to your forehead, you kiss him as your muscles twitch and contract. Your orgasm rocks you, screaming into his lips as you finally let the spring loose. Shinsou holds you tightly as he fucks you through both of your orgasms. Warmth fills you up as he releases inside you, spilling his seed into you. Your muscles finally relax as your legs flop onto the mattress, Shinsou gently following suit. He kisses your sweaty cheeks, forehead, nose, before reaching your soft lips. Your bodies are still connected as he presses his forehead against yours. His breathing finally calms down enough for him to gently pull out. You whimper from the loss of his touch. He chuckles and pecks your forehead. “I gotta clean ya up. I’ll be right back.”

Shinsou steadies himself before walking to the other side of the room to grab a rag and some water. He rakes a hand through his hair to get out more of the sweat. He’s about to ask you how it was when he sees you passed out, soundly asleep. His stomach jumps and his heart flutters at seeing you this peaceful. For the last couple of months of knowing you he’s never seen this expression on you. He must have really wore you out and that swells his pride. Shinsou gently brushes some hair back as he cleans you up just as softly. He slides into the bed next to you and wraps you in his arms.

Of course he hopes you won’t regret what happened, but he’s more worried about how you’ll feel being at the gates of your home that hates you so much.

****

Shoto Todoroki tries to hold back any malice that would show on his face as the ceremony proceeds on. It would be fitting that the day of your funeral would be cloudy. It’s not lost on him that it took months to assemble this ceremony when it took days to assemble his almost marriage.

It also isn’t lost on him the reception is considered more of a celebration.

The king didn’t even shed a tear as your empty casket was paraded through the land. The people there were more happy to see some of the royals up close, giving fake condolences as they slipped in “you can marry me or adopt my child,” as they all walked through. He was included as the fiancé that was robbed of a wedding and an heir. There were even some cheers and signs of relief. Was there no one in this kingdom who saw all the good that you are? The amazing princess and person that you were and could be? He wanted to yell at them, freeze them, burn them, anything to get them to stop sullying your name even in death.

Have they no respect for the dead?

The parade continued up to the palace’s cathedral steps where the funeral would take place. The prince lets his emotions show by crying at your portrait; at least they captured your beauty in a kind manner. The bells ring and the organ plays loudly, letting the kingdom know the funeral is about to begin.

Your casket is adorned with what he assumes are you favorite flowers as well as the flowers of the castle. From the one night he had with you, he knows you would hate all of this. Shoto whispers to his brother, who happened to show up, “this is bullshit. She would hate all of this.”

Natsuo sighs and places a hand on his shoulder. “I agree with you. Your letters barely touched the surface of how this kingdom views their fallen princess. It’s blasphemous. And their king is no better.”

“You two,” King Enji hisses, “watch it. We don’t know who is listening.

“But I concur.”

The king, your stepfather, approaches the podium and motions for his subjects to sit. He takes a deep breath to feign sadness before the bells go off for a second time. Shoto sighs as he’s now thankful for the interruption. However when he looks forward, the king’s eyes are full of dread. Some of the townspeople are unsure of what the bells are for and whispers flourish throughout the cathedral. “Father,” Shoto asks, “what are those bells?”

The king answers with a drop in his voice and confidence.

“Pirates.”

****

Your heart beats out of your chest as the alarm bells of your kingdom blare loudly. The last time you heard those bells was the last time you saw your father. You breathe deeply to calm and steal your nerves. On your right, Aizawa grips your shoulder and gives you a nod of approval. To your left, Shinsou holds your hand tightly and squeezes it firmly. You turn your head to Eraserhead and nod at him, standing along the beaches of your former home. Your eyes scan up the beachside cliff where atop sits the castle.

Pirate Queen Nemuri and Captain Yamada have already ascended into the kingdom, the screams of soldiers and citizens growing. They are to be the distraction as your faction enters the castle and ransacks it. No longer will you be resigned and be an observer of your own life. A sinister smile comes to your face as the future is yours for the taking, starting with your home. The pirate ship Yuuei crew follows you toward a secret entrance into the castle. Judging by the old maps, there was once a dungeon and you want to find it and see what secrets your stepfather had hidden. Covered in vines and moss, you use your new found weapon to slice away at the greenery that at one point was your escape to the waters below your room. The king then forbade you from using this way and you never knew why. You had assumed he hated you immensely as it was right after your mother had died.

The door squeaks open and a wave of dust and cobwebs hits your face, the rusting nails practically falling out of the hinges. Aizawa presses forward and takes a cautious step on the stone. He presses his foot into the material to assure its stability. Satisfied with his determination, he turns his head toward his crew proudly. He gives them a silent signal to tread behind him and they follow suit. However, Kaminari perks his ear and halts those behind him.

“Someone’s comin’,” he whispers.

The pounding of metal on gravel alerts you to two guards that have their swords drawn. They approach the group with fear and loathing as the pirates around you draw their own swords. With a stern pout, you pull out yours and step in between them. Shinsou attempts to stop you but Midoriya holds him back. The two guards slow their approach as their eyes widen in shock. “Y-your highness! We thought you dead, the kingdom is mourning you as we speak,” the first shakes out before kneeling in front of you. The second scoffs and pulls up his mate. “Ain’t no need to kneel to her,” he steps toward you with the tip of the sword about to graze your neck. Behind you Shinsou growls as he and the rest of the crew close in on the three of you. “This one has been declared dead by the castle. We never did like you.”

Your grip tightens on the sword as you try to control your breathing. “And why is that? Do you have no thoughts of your own?”

“Heh, the king didn’t like you. That’s good enough for me.”

The second guard lunges toward you aggressively with malice in his heart. You duck out of the way and avoid his attack as you come up behind him. With his guard lowered along with his head, the back of his neck is wide open as you start to dig the edge of your sword into his neck. The first guard drops his sword in surrender as a trickle of blood falls down the other’s back. The man underneath you grunts in frustration as you had bested him in quick combat. Your eyes narrow as the defeated guard drops his sword and stands up, your sword never leaving the nape of his neck. Aizawa steps forward and flashes an eerie smile of discontent.

With his hands on his hips, he snickers. “How’s it feel t’be bested by ya own princess? Yer gonna lead us inside the castle or she won’t hesitate t’kill ya.” You smirk behind the resistant guard as you walk towards the secret entrance. Sharp black eyes follow where the soldiers came from and hums to himself. “Aye, go back t’where they came from. Take Mind Jack with ya.”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, knowing full well you need to be the one leading the charge inside. You grumble to yourself and withdraw your weapon, only for it to be replaced by Bakugou’s own cutlass. “Get ta steppin’,” he chews out. You know better than to talk back to your captain so you turn your head and retrace the steps left in the gravel and sand from the guards. Shinsou trails behind you, giving you enough space to process and follow the footsteps. With the crew, the guard in opposition out front to lead them and whispers under his breath.

“No surprise you turned out to be a pirate, just like your father.”

****

You and Shinsou tread carefully along the sand to not disturb the trail. The silence is heavy as you think about what you’re going to find. For as long as you’ve lived at the castle, there were still parts you never explored. And whatever had your stepfather guarding this area this way means there’s something for you to find. Shinsou follows your lead and places a hand on your shoulder. The two of you stop as you see another hidden cavern with signs and smells of knights standing for long periods of time. If you hadn’t been surrounded by pirates for weeks and weeks, the smell of feces and urine would have made you vomit.

Hidden away is another door, similar to the secret entrance of the castle. You look back down to the map in your hands and realize this location isn’t on there. Your eyebrows furrow closely. “What is it?” Shinsou calmly asks. You turn your head to meet his serious expression, rolling up the map with a sigh.

“This entrance,” you start slowly, approaching the door. “Is not in my memories or any castle drawings. What is this?” With a confirmation nod from your, you assume, lover you turn the knob. The hinges squeak and another set of rotting stone leads upwards. You gulp and hold Shinsou’s hand as a new sense of anxiety overcomes you. What are you going to find at the end of the stairs? Your heart is beating a mile a minute when you reach another door. It looks to be in better shape and you keep a hand on the hilt of your sword as it opens. Your eyes are met with what looks like a dungeon. You relax your shoulders as confusion swells inside you. Beside you, Shinsou takes in his surroundings as he questions. “A dungeon?”

“I-I don’t understand. We’ve never had enemies,” you stammer. You look through the bars of the empty cells and see rotting wood, mold and moss, skeletal remains, and rusting metal. You step on gravel and twigs as your mind is a mess, until the sound of flesh against metal makes you yelp. Shinsou quickly rushes to your aid and pulls out his weapon, standing in front of you. The two of you see a hand on a faraway cell.

“The kingdom getting invaded by pirates again? Sheesh, it’s sure been a while.”

The voice is raspy, full of experience and loss. The two of you hesitantly head toward the farthest cell. The hand, covered in grime and calluses reaches out to you. Shinsou speaks up first. “Who are ya?” The man in the cell chuckles with a cough before pointing up and behind you. You turn and notice a set of keys. Without hesitation, you grab them and unlock the cell. It creaks open and the man inside falls to the ground. The chains that are attached to him shine in the light, and you unlock those too. There’s a ring of bruises around the prisoner's wrists and neck as he falls to the ground.

Hitoshi, still on guard, keeps his sword drawn and at the ready. The man in front of them seems to have matted and tangled hair that is entirely too familiar. It’s only when he lifts his head that you fall to the ground. A gasp escapes your lips as disbelief comes across your features. Your lip trembles as your mind goes to the picture Eraserhead had shown you. The man smiles as if his life has always been easy and foretold to him. He rubs at his wrists and sits on his knees in front of you. Shinsou lowers himself to you and wraps an arm around your shoulder. “It can’t be…” he whispers.

Although worn down by years of confinement, that unmistakable cloud like hair reminds you of your own. You blink furiously as realization dawns on you. Tears cascade freely down your cheeks as you shake your head in shock. His soft blue eyes affirm everything your brain is trying to conjure. The man in front of you meets your eyes and gives you a warm and welcoming smile as he starts to cry.

“So,” Oboro chokes back, “m’daughter became a pirate afta all. ‘M so relieved.”

[buckgasms]

Once upon a time - Kinktober

Hello!!!

Thanks to everyone who voted in my poll! The winner by far was 'Beauty and the Beast' so I will be starting with that one!

I will be writing some of the other popular ones too so don't despair if this wasn't your favourite!

I'm doing this in two parts because it's just too huge otherwise, so please enjoy and I hope to see you for the next part!

The village of Swanford had once been a prosperous village, lead by the Barnes family, who had not only made their fortune there, but had also been generous benefactors of the town.

But after the wars of Europe and the death of their patriarch, the family and the village had descended into disrepair.

The Barnes residence, once a shining display of wealth and fashionable architecture now stood, imposing and delapidated on the edge of town. It's owner, the reclusive James Barnes, was never seen in the village. Rumours swirled of a beastly nature about him.

Cruel and unkind, a monster returned from war, more metal than man.

You had little interest in the life of James Barnes and his sad house. Your life, and it's problems were far more pressing.

You lived with your father in the poorer part of the village, his health would ebb and flow, keeping him out of secure work, and much of the financial responsibility falling onto your shoulders at a young age.

Since you were able to, you took jobs wherever you could, sewing, serving and occasionally teaching at the local community school. That had been your favourite, but was naturally short lived.

One September afternoon you had been informed by the headmaster that you would no longer be able to work. They hadn't received their usual funding and could only afford two teachers.

You were devastated but swallowed your pain and smiled. Perhaps another year?

🥀

You had just finished a day of sewing that left your fingers red and throbbing, when your father burst in the front door.

"Darling, I've had an idea..."

You strained a smile. These were never the start of a good conversation with your father. As he approached you could smell the scent of liquor on his breath.

"The Barnes mansion... It must be abandoned now. No one's seen sight of the miserable lad for years..."

You shrug and raise your eyebrows. "So? What does that have to do with anything?"

He chuckles and pinches your cheek.

"Tonight... I'm going up there. There must be something I can sell. Then you can forget these silly embroideries and I'll buy you a lovely dress!"

Your stomach churns. Both at his idea and his painful misunderstanding of you and the situation you are both in.

"I don't think that's a good idea..."

But he's already flopped down on the bed, unconscious to your protests, a victorious smile on his sweaty, boyish face.

🥀

You woke in a start, not sure what made you so terrified in your dreams but feeling uneasy as you panted in bed.

It took you a moment to realise the usual sound of your father snoring was absent and that the front door was left ajar.

You groaned and scrambled out of bed, pulling on a shawl and a pair of worn out shoes. Perhaps you could catch him before he made it to the mansion.

In a few minutes you were out the door, surprised to find the early dawn light breaking. How long had he been gone? Your stomach churned again. A familiar feeling when dealing with your father's escapades.

You were panting and out of breath when you arrived at the gates of the Barnes' home. You shivered at the prospect of walking through the overgrown garden but a shout from inside the normally silent house pushed you on.

Ignoring the clawing branches and weeds that tried to trip you until you were at the big wooden doors. Before you could knock the door swung open and you were met with a huge man, hair and beard giving the appearance of something like a wolf and piercing blue eyes burning into you.

"Come for more stolen goods?" He growled as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into he house.

You cried out in protest until he released you, yanking you into a large parlour. There you found your father standing, looking terrified and sober. Beads of sweat were pouring down his face, and behind him a pile of shattered glass and porcelain.

"What did you do?" You strained as you walked to him, taking his hands in yours.

"He's a thief" a harsh voice spoke and you turned to face the owner of this dark, terrible home. James Barnes.

"His foolishness and avarice has cost me several hundred dollars in damages. Priceless family heirlooms, lost forever..."

You squeezed the eyes shut, hoping just briefly you might still be asleep, but you opened them again, finding yourself still in this nightmare.

"Sir, please forgive us. My father, he...he doesn't always make good decisions, but he means well. He was just trying to support us. It was a mistake..."

"So like everyone else in this village, it is someone else's problem to fix. Forget doing something useful, just hold out your hand and someone else will provide?"

You flinched at the venom in his voice. You had never once complained about your lot in life, it felt awful to be at the brunt of his fury. Despite your fear you step towards him, placing yourself between the two men.

"How dare you... As if you know what it's like to live in discomfort or poverty..."

At your words he holds up his other arm, heavy silver metal and scoffs. "I know something of living in pain....I just refuse to make it into anyone else's problem."

You blink. Shocked at both the appendage and his confession. The silence hangs heavily in the air for a moment.

"I will not let this go unpunished. This is my home and he has caused damage. I will have to report this to the police..."

You whimpered, knowing that this was probably your father's final strike. If he was arrested again, he would be sent away for hard labour. A sentence that would probably kill him.

Your father gripped your elbow and squeezed. "It's ok my love, it's what I deserve..."

You shook your head and approached James, dropping to your knees grabbing at his hands, both to his surprise.

"Please? If they arrest my father.. I'll never see him again. And.... He's all I have left. Please? There must be something else..."

Tears fell from your eyes, but you refused to break your eye contact, gripping his hands as hard as you dared. His face was unreadable, but you hoped there was a good man there somewhere.

"Very well. He can go home."

You heaved out a sigh, moving to release his hands, but instead he gripped you tighter.

"But you have to stay."

Ah perhaps not a good man at all....

You gasped and tried to escape his grip but he held fast.

"You will work off your father's debt to me. You will stay here so I know you aren't gossiping about me in town, or stealing from me. Once the debt is paid, you can leave."

He releases your hands and you scramble to your feet. You turn to your father, standing uselessly in the mess he has created. Your shoulders drop and you turn back to James.

"Ok."

🥀

Spending time in the Barnes household wasn't as torturous as you had envisioned. Bucky, as he preferred to be called, spent most of the day alone leaving you to your various tasks.

The house was a mess, so you were busy dusting, cleaning and tidying. You spent your first week in the kitchen, disgusted by the dirt and mouldy food you found there.

Each morning ready made meals were delivered and you would store and serve when appropriate. Around midweek you were handed three bowls of mushy oats, you recognised as gruel. It looked odd amid the rich soups, stews, bread and cheeses that were stacked next to it.

"Well this looks almost good a new"

His deep grumble of a voice made you jump as you were scrubbing dishes and made it slip from your hand, smashing in the sink.

"Hmm that must be another week's work at least" he chuckled, walking over to you, brushing past you to grab a drink of water.

You scowled and began collecting the shards to put in the bin. He leaned against the counter as he watched you work.

"There was some gruel delivered today. What's that for?" You asked briskly as he slipped slowly.

"Ah yes. That's your's"

You looked up at him and stared. The twinkle of amusement in his eyes was enraging.

"I have a proposal. If you would like to dine with me in the evenings, then we can share a meal. If you continue to eat alone, then it only seems right you should eat just enough to sustain you."

"Why would I wish you eat with you?" You tried to dial down the venom in your words, but he seemed unbothered. A simple shrug and a flash of a grin before he turned to leave.

"I'll leave it with you to ponder, Beauty..."

That was another thing. Despite the fact you had told him your name several times, he insisted on refering to you as Beauty. Perhaps it was some sick reference to a fairytale?

You were beautiful, despite your often disheveled appearance, but it felt more of an insult when he said it.

Either way, you were never going to share a table with such a brute. You were made of tougher stuff that just a bit of gruel.

🥀

By the weekend you were starting to break. The gruel was exactly as he said, just enough to sustain you, but not enough to make you feel good in any way.

Saturday morning came and he had a huge roast delivered, with all the trimmings. You groaned as you set it in the oven to roast for a few hours. It looked so good.

In the afternoon you had some time to yourself and decided to read, finding some of his books left lying around too hard to resist. You didn't care what you read, you just loved it. Losing yourself in a fantastic world, or learning about real life places that you would probably never see.

As you were learning about the rainforests of the Amazon, Bucky appeared, and you did your best not to react as he sat on the couch where you had curled yourself up.

"Dinner already smells divine Beauty. Are you sure you won't join me tonight?"

You closed the book slowly. "Why are you so persistant about me joining you? Servents don't normally dine with their masters..."

"I don't consider you a servant. You are working off a debt, yes, but I still consider you a guest of sorts. If we are to share a home, we could at least share a meal..."

You narrowed your eyes but your treacherous stomach betrayed you, growling loudly.

He chuckled. "That settles it. You must join me. Oh! I have another delivery coming this afternoon. It's for you..."

And with that he left with your rainforests.

🥀

A dress.

It was a dress.

No in fact it wasn't a dress. It was an entire wardrobe of clothes, fit for a woman of a far higher status than you. Annoyingly they were all to your taste and fit like a glove.

You were mortified to find he had also purchased undergarments and threw the parcel of lacy items into the drawer to ignore them for the time being.

You decided on a pale green dress for dinner, throwing it on and brushing your hair through before rushing down to the kitchen to dish up.

He was in his usual simple black trousers and loose white shirt that he always wore, making you feel a bit of a spectacle in your shiny new dress, but he complimented you in a way that felt genuine so you smiled and allowed him to serve dinner.

He was quite handsome, but he was hidden behind a thick scraggy beard and long lank hair. The beard covered scars that you noticed drifted down towards his chest, more on his left side.

His metal arm, made of some mysterious metal called vibranium was surprisingly nimble. Occasionally he would knock something with it but it was hardly the terrifying limb the rest of the village made it out to be.

His eyes were the most wonderful though. Glittering blue that seemed to change with his emotions. Sparkling with joy, or turning grey with his anger.

You wondered what he must have been like before the war. There was definitely a sense of humour there, gentleness and generosity. But like so many men of his time, the things he had seen and done had buried those attributes beneath a surface of blood, mud and pain.

You ate mostly in silence because you were enjoying every single mouthful of delicious food. It was heaven, and even as the cook, you had to admit that this was the best roast you'd ever had. He seemed similarly impressed, mmh-ing at each new bite. It was almost sweet.

Once the plates were clearing he poured you a wine and started probing you. He wanted to know about your life, everything....

You answered briefly and without inspiration until he asked you about books.

"Oh yes I love to read. My mother insisted I learn and I'm so glad I did! I'll read anything I can get my hands on!" You laughed and he smiled, cogs turning in his head.

"I used to teach actually, I loved it. But they had to let me go..."

"Why? That seems crazy?"

"The money. There wasn't enough. I don't understand how people could take funding away from a school. It's so selfish..."

He stopped smiling.

"Maybe these places should learn to save better, and spend more wisely..."

You eyed him. "Well how can they with nothing? Don't be so naive, just because you have enough. Life is miserable enough without more selfish people in the world."

He threw his knife on the table and stood up.

"I knew it. You are just the same as the rest of them... Just waiting for a handout."

You also rose, fire burning in your chest

"I have never in my life asked for anything. I have worked all my life, harder that I imagine you ever have! I think its about kindness. It costs nothing to be kind James. And I'll stick to gruel if this is what dinner with you looks like."

You tore from the room before he could throw another barbed word your way, slamming the door and running to your bedroom. You refused to shed a tear until the door was firmly locked, collapsing on the bed, wishing this would all just end.

You heard a door slam in the distance before more tears fell until you finally drifted off to sleep.

🥀🥀🥀

[yanderes-galore]

Hmm how about Junko enoshima from danganronpa with prompt 4. From your yandere prompt list

Sure! I hope I depict her well in this....

Yandere! Junko Enoshima Prompt 4

"My heart belongs to you, I'll adore anything you do to it."

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Sadism, Junko likes to hurt you both, Blood, Implications of darling dying, Extremely dark themes, Forced "relationship".

"Don't you want to hurt me?"

The question sounds genuine... yet taunting. You don't comment at first, too busy on the scene in front of you. A metallic smell overwhelms your nose... causing you to shake.

Corpses... all of the faces you once knew... from acquaintances to close friends... They lay in the classroom like butchered meat with stab wounds in their flesh.

"Please, you didn't expect them all to live, right?" Junko muses, "It's so much more fun if none of them live. You cared about them too much... made me quite upset, actually."

You remain silent, bile building in your throat as you look at the scene. You collapse on your knees as you look it over. Junko had dragged you to a classroom to show you a scene she no doubt created herself. Blood coated the walls... barely hiding the corpses of those you once knew alive.

Why...?

Because it hurt you... and that was cute to her.

"Ohhh, don't act like I don't see that look in your eye!" Junko coos, big blue eyes staring down at you as she seats herself in front of you. Blood, in its nauseating color, coats her clothes as she gives you a Cheshire grin.

"You want to hurt me~!" Junko chirps, "You want to hurt me back because I broke all your precious little relationships... let's be honest, honey... the only relationship that matters is ours!"

"We don't have a relationship!" You bark, causing Junko to howl in laughter.

"Ouch... that makes me so sad... seeing you deny me like that hurts... I love it...!" Junko purrs with a grin. "You look so cute when you're deep in the pits of despair... They must've meant a lot to you."

This was the game Junko always liked to play. Junko only ever loved despair. It's an emotion she lusts after, while others try to avoid it.

You have a speculation what Junko feels towards you... isn't love. No, she doesn't genuinely love you. She's obsessed with you... but not entirely you as a being...

She's obsessed with causing you anguish... because it makes her feel the same way.

She loves you in her own twisted way. She both loves yet hates it when you hate her back. When she successfully manages to make you act out against her... She feels despair.

Making you fall into despair drags her with you... like you're both chained together.

"It hurts, doesn't it? To be so deep in despair? To know you're all alone except for me...?" Junko pouts playfully, coming closer to kneel down in front of you. "Don't you hate me?"

She cups your face, nails digging into your skin as you violently try to pull away.

"There's no need to hide your hate, sweetheart. I see it in your eyes." Junko hums, slowly grinning as you glare at her.

"My heart belongs to you, I'll adore anything you do to it." Junko admits. "I want you to hurt me, to make me feel pain and despair... I want the person I love most to despise me... know why?"

You don't bother answering, watching with disgust as Junko lets you go to retrieve something from a corpse.

"It causes me great despair to be the cause of your pain..." Junko confesses, pulling a large knife from a corpse. The blade drips the tainted substance of blood, making you gag. "I love it. I love it as much as I love you... if not more...."

You freeze when Junko approaches with the knife, the blade wet with its past kills. Junko grins down at you, toying with the blade as she ponders what to do next. A shiver runs down your spine.

"Seeing you glare at me, hating me... To see that come from someone I care about to the point of infatuation... the amount of despair I gain is euphoric." Junko shudders with a deranged giggle.

"You could do anything to me..." Junko smiles, circling you like a hungry shark who just smelled blood in the water. "You could hurt me in any way... and I'd never stop loving you... I'll just keep coming back for more."

Junko then goes silent for a moment, pausing in front of you to look over the knife. She appears to be in deep thought before an idea comes in mind. You go to weakly pull yourself off the ground, only for Junko to lunge.

You fall to the blood soaked wood of the classroom. Junko is quick to straddle you as she presses the blade to your chest. She stares down at you with eager eyes... your fear is delectable.

"You know..." Junko trails, looking at your quivering form as you try to move. She stops such attempts by pressing the knife's edge to your throat. "The ultimate feeling of despair would come from us killing each other...."

Your heart picks up, staring at the girl in fear as she grins wickedly. She's serious....

"Don't you know how much it would hurt? How much it would pleasantly ache to have to kill the one I love? That, or have you hate me enough to bring me to the brink of death? You know how much DESPAIR that would cause us...?" Junko continues, practically salivating at the thought.

"It would be the ultimate conclusion to our love, sweetheart! The ultimate way to show that you're mine and we were always meant to be!" Junko sighs dreamily, toying with the blade again. "So... what do you say?"

Junko then grabs your hand, wrapping it around the handle of the blade as she still holds it.

Her gaze is hypnotic, evidence of her spiraling into despair at the thought of you hurting one another... and your fear only adds to the feeling.

"I want you to hurt me."

[yourejinx]

Undeniable Bonds.

Azriel x F. Reader

Warnings: angst, sad, ugly thoughts. 

word count: 3583.

Author’s note: I’m so sorry I’m so late with this. I still don’t know if I like it, but hopefully it isn’t that bad. I know it still is a lot of context, but I promise I’m getting somewhere. 

CHAPTER TWO. 

“CASSIAN!” — Nesta’s warning roar reached my ears and everything seemed to stop. I turned around dragging my sword with me and gutting the Hybern soldier in one go. 

I scanned the area where Cassian’s party was fighting in the skies, then towards the older Archeron sister on the ground next to Amren. Something throbbed inside my veins in warning, as if something hideous had come to life. It took me a heartbeat to understand. The Cauldron. It was going to blast, and Nesta had known where it was aimed at. 

 The Ilyrians had their shields up, Rhys had blasted his magic across the field and Cassian —gods above— Cassian was already racing towards Nesta, and out of the Cauldrons range. Still, something kept pushing, urging me to move. Danger, Danger, Danger it chanted. It hit me a moment later, and all my alarms went off. Where was Azriel? 

Amidst the blinding light and unbearably heat of the blast that followed, I almost missed the faint blue glow trying and failing to contain the blow. There, just behind the ranks, Azriel’s focus was solely in holding that shield up, trying to spare someone, anyone. I could only watch in horror as one of those abhorred gray-skinned creatures approached him fast, claws ready to cut through skin and bone. It was going to behead him. 

I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream like Nesta had to let him know. But my voice failed me, my throat so sore that only a pathetic strangled whisper managed to escape my trembling lips; “No.”

I cursed the mother, the gods and fate itself for not making me a winged creature. 

It was impossible for him to have heard it through this distance, and yet —somehow— as if it had slapped him across the face, he turned towards me. His eyes found mine through ash and gore and despair, and I couldn’t let myself think twice before winnowing right at his back, atop the damned beast aiming for his head. I couldn’t bother with strategy at this point, I just angled my blade against that misshaped chest and pushed to get it through its heart. The creature thrashed and fought fangs and claws to get me off, turning us around in the sky as we plummeted down towards certain death. It was enough, I told myself as the ground inched closer to us. It was enough to get it away from Azriel. 

I braced myself for the impact, my eyes closed shut and my arms gave up as the creature finally stopped moving. But my body never touched the ground. 

Rough, desperate hands were gripping my legs and under my arms, snatching me from the Attor’s grip and up to the skies again. I dared a look at his face, he was forcing his still healing wings far too much but he didn’t seem to care. Hazel orbs were already staring at me. Gaping at me. And I felt it too, the golden string stretching between our souls. Mates, Azriel was my mate. 

“You…” Azriel choked on his words. Eyes wide.

“Later.” I promised, still shaken by the feeling of him. Of his very essence entwining with mine. 

But the war was still raging under our feet. Later never came. 

—----------------------------------------------------------

It had been terrible timing for the bond to snap then. With all that was going on, Amren turning into a living raging flame then vanishing, the Cauldron and the world falling apart…Rhys dying —fucking dying on us — only to come back later. 

We didn't speak about it, Azriel and I. Didn't bother to acknowledge it as time passed and we fell back into routine. The adrenaline of the war worn out. 

It didn't matter anyways, I realized coming back to present time, for he had hated it even then. So I shut it down, and never dared to talk it into existence. 

My mate, the person destined for me, despised me in every way he could. It had to be the saddest joke of them all. 

But he had a right, after all, who would love an unworthy monstrous thing like myself? 

I pushed the little bakery's door open, walking straight to Rhysand's favorite sweets and buying an entire box of them. 

"You're not his fucking sister!", Azriel's words still rang loudly in my head. I had to think carefully how to bring the subject up to Rhys, my decision  to leave this court. Because even if I wanted to deny it, some part of what the Shadowsinger had said resonated with me. I didn't deserve Rhys, didn't deserve any of them. 

It was getting late already, the sun starting its descent behind the mountains casting Velaris in a warm orange glow. Feyre spotted me first through the open window of their shared home and waved at me to come in. Rhys was just a few feet behind her, holding baby Nyx close to his chest. They looked so happy, if not albeit a bit tired due to the still new parenting dynamic. A smile cut its way through my lips at the scene. 

"Y/N, back already?" The High Lady smiled warmly at me. I returned the gesture. 

"Yeah, I wanted to talk to Rhys about something." I said approaching them and placing a kiss atop Nyx's raven hair. I waved the box of sweets in front of Rhysand's nose. "Has Azriel showed up?" 

"No, why?" He asked, snatching the box from my hands with a childish grin and handling the babe to his mate. 

I waved a hand in dismissal. He motioned for me to follow him into his office and out to the open balcony overviewing the river. 

"What 's going on?" 

"Well, we— I didn't found anything that could track back to the missing fae," 

"I sense there's a but somewhere in there.." He said, cocking an eyebrow. 

"But…it felt wrong. There was something strange going on. I'm sorry I don't have any proof to offer you, it was a waste of time." 

He frowned. "It could happen, we weren't certain about it. We'll keep looking, you’re going to catch them." Rhys opened the box, throwing some sweets into his mouth and then offered me some. “You’re not here just for the mission, are you? I’m guessing either this is some kind of bribe or you’re trying to soften the blow.” 

I gave him a half smile, bracing my hands on the railing. His own smile faltered for a moment and concern latched onto his features. “I should brace myself for the blow then,” he commented, resting his back on the railing next to me and searching for my face.

“It’s not that…” I murmured, still not looking directly at him. “You know I love you, right?”

“If you’re going to confess now, please remember my mate is next door” he joked. 

“Ass.” I nudged in the ribs with an elbow. Rhys chuckled to himself. 

“I love you too, idiot. What 's going on?”

I let out a small sigh. How was I supposed to approach the subject? I have never been good with words and there was so much to tell. 

“I mean it, Rhys. You’re my family, you and Feyre, Mor, Cass, Amren…all of you. I’ve never had that, you know? a true family” I glanced at him at last. “I’m sorry if in my excitement I crossed a boundary that I shouldn’t have crossed. I know I’m not your sister, and I will never be her, nor do I intend to occupy her place in your heart. I just… never knew how much I wanted to belong somewhere until I met you guys.”

He frowned deeply. His whole demeanor was serious now. 

“Where is this coming from Y/N? Of course you’re not my sister, she’s been gone for a long time. But you still are my family, you’re my sister in every way that counts except for blood. I don’t understand what my dead sister has to do with anything.”

I shook my head, already regretting my choice of words. 

“You give me way more than what I deserve… I think it’s time for me to really earn my living.”

“Let me see if I understand correctly. You think you don’t deserve your life here, your home, your job, your friends. Because that should’ve belonged to my sister? Who told you that?”

My eyes shut and I breathed deeply through my nose. I didn’t mean to offend him. "I'm grateful for everything you've done for me, but I can't help feeling like I'm living off of you, of your money.” 

“You’re not using my money, you’re using your money. The one you’ve earned by putting your life on the line every single time for us, whenever I asked. You’re not my charity project, you’re my family, and I owe you just as much. So let me ask you again, who put such ideas in your head?” 

“No one Rhys. I had that thought in the back of my mind for a while now and when an opportunity had presented itself I just…I don’t want to be a burden.”

Rhys relaxed his shoulders a bit, and put a hand atop my shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“A couple of months ago Hellion offered me a position in his court and told me to think about it, it is mine if I want it. I could finally have my own place, and I would still visit you here”

“I can’t tell you not to take it if that’s what you really want, what would make you happy. But don’t do it for the wrong reasons. Everything you have here, you’ve earned it. The only thing I’m offering you for free is my friendship, I don’t think you’re a replacement for my sister, you are your own person and we all love you for you. So please, get that ridiculous idea that you’re a burden out of your thick skull.” He pinched my cheek affectionately, my throat felt tight. “ And as for Hellion… think about it thoroughly, at least stay until Solstice, would you do that for me?” 

I nodded, not trusting my voice. His eyes were always so gentle on me, so understanding. 

“Alright.” I mused. 

Soft knocks sounded from behind us and Feyre poked her head through the half-open door. “Sorry to interrupt you guys but Azriel is here, says it's urgent.” 

Rhys cut a glance at me as if to make sure I was fine before he let the Shadowsinger in. I knew that Rhys suspected about us, about the mating bond, but I never told him and he never asked. My relationship with Azriel has always been strained and Rhysand could absolutely tell it was hurting me, but as long as I wouldn’t bring it up he’d stay out of it. And I appreciated that.

Feyre nodded behind her and fully opened the door to let the Shadowsinger inside. His posture was rigid, wings tucked tight as his eyes fell upon me. “You were right.” He uttered. “I found something back in Spring.”    

I willed my face into neutrality, there was no way in Hell I would let him see how much his words had affected me. “What is it?”

"I found a caravan of females of different ages set to be transported through the river. I broke them free but there was no sign of their captors, however I think there’s something you should see.” Azriel’s face was stoic as ever, revealing nothing about the mission nor our previous conflict. 

I turned to Rhysand once more, “We should go check on them, but Rhys we can’t leave them there. They will strike again, I’m sure of it, and we can’t count on Tamlin either. No one has heard a word of him in months.” 

“We can’t exactly bring an entire court to The Shelter Y/N, those females, they have families. Despite Tamlin being missing, there are still rules and accords with the other courts. It won’t look good. The other High Lords won’t look the other way if we just trespass the borders and start to bring people into our court or if we leave sentinels in there, they will take it as an act of defiance, of me trying to expand these lands and my rule on them.” He had an apologetic look on his face, ever the wise High Lord considering every possible outcome. 

I knew he was right and I would not get mad at him. Still, it frustrated me to no end. 

I chewed on my bottom lip trying to come up with a solution, at least until we found the slavers. 

“What if I talked to Eris?” I offered. “Maybe we could station a small patrol near the border with Autumn under his discretion, maybe he could put some of his own sentinels on guard duty.” 

Azriel snorted. “You trust Eris?”

“It is better than nothing Azriel, what do you propose?” I asked, eyebrows high and tone bitter. 

The Shadowsinger opened his mouth to reply but Rhys's voice cut him off before we got engaged in another fight yet again. "Let me deal with Eris. You go talk to them, learn whatever you can about what happened to them and report back. You two are stuck there until I sort it out with Eris. Lay low, no one can know of your presence other than the survivors. Be extremely careful." 

We both nodded our agreement, not daring another word.  I moved past Azriel to the door and he followed closely behind. I could feel his body heat almost enveloping me, he was way too close to be casual. 

"If you're worried about what I told Rhysand, I left your name out of it. I took full responsibility for it.” 

“Why?” He side-glanced at me. I shrugged. 

“Because I’m tired of explaining myself. If you want to get into an argument with me then go ahead, I won’t bother with it. You can go tell him whatever you please.”

I couldn’t be bothered to try and hide the tiredness of my body and mind out of my face. Two whole centuries of this, insulting each other, hurting each other, it was enough. I’ll handle anything he decides to throw at me but I’m done fighting back. 

Azriel, to my surprise, didn’t say anything as we walked into the open night. 

The night sky had already settled around the city, covering it with its black and dark blue mantle of flickering stars. In my two hundred years of life I had never encountered a more beautiful sight than the one Velaris offered. The Day Court surely will be a huge change, away from everything, from my family and friends, from my favorite cafés and galleries, from the whisper of the quiet darkness that had accompanied me my whole life. 

I tore my eyes away from it, ready to winnow; I could feel Azriel’s stare fixed on my face.

“I’ll fly us there.” He offered so low it could have been dragged away with the wind. 

“There’s no need for that.” 

“You’re tired. Better save some energy, just in case.”    

I turned to face him, eyebrows furrowed, and could have mistaken the look on his eyes for concern if I didn’t know him any better. “What did you find there, Azriel?”

Hazel orbs moved to my left wrist, swift, smooth; I wrapped my hand around it almost unconsciously, and brought my arm to my chest, hiding it from his view. 

“The females in the caravan, they have the same mark you have on your skin.” 

The small crow that had been burned and scarred onto my wrist, branded. My back went rigid. It couldn’t be who I was thinking, that monster died that horrible night two centuries ago. It had to be an imitator, some kind of joke. 

The shadowsinger placed a tentative hand on my elbow and brought me out of my own head. I yanked it back from his touch. “Let's go, I want to see it.” Was my only reply. 

—----------------------------------------------------------

Azriel. 

Your whole demeanor had changed the moment he brought up that hideous mark, a reminder of the haunting past. He didn’t have the full story but given your reaction, and the looks on those fae he had freed, it hadn’t been a personal choice. 

Azriel felt bad for being an asshole to you earlier, but he couldn’t bring himself to utter an apology. He hadn’t always been like this, but it was already too late to take it back. You irritated him to no end, the way your scent would flow up his nose and never leave him, day and night it would invade his senses, clouding his mind with that unique water lilies and lemon zest smell of yours. And that big full mouth? always ready to retort to him. Nobody had ever possessed such an innate ability to get under his skin as easily as you did. It made him so mad he could tear at his own hair in frustration. 

Still, deep down, Azriel knew that most of his anger wasn't of your doing, not on purpose at least. He would find the tiniest of excuses to keep you out and away from him, not being ready to face the full truth as to why you affected him so much. You always did. It was easier to just dislike you. 

But in those extremely rare moments when you would let a sliver of a true emotion show around him, his resolve trembled. And the tightness he felt in his chest was much harder to ignore. 

You were silent the whole flight to the Spring Court, something akin to pain haunted your eyes. He didn’t dare speak about it, but something in his stomach twisted at that look. 

For the past hour or so he watched you silently as you talked to the females, inspecting them for injuries aside from the branding, asking them about their captors and being extremely patient with them. A little girl even came up to you, eyelashes wet with tears and begged you to find her mother. Azriel caught the way your face twisted into a grim, even if to the little girl you looked confident enough that you were gonna reunite her with her mother. She had clung to you for the rest of the night until she felt asleep. 

You had a heart, and a kind soul beyond his comprehension, even if he wanted to convince himself that you didn't. It was a lie. He used to tell himself that you were nothing but Hewn City filth, that no one good could ever come out of that place and you would betray them all eventually. Yet there was Mor. And yet, you were here. 

Mor, he hadn't thought about her in a while, not like he used to. He'd like to think the lovely doe-eyed female back home was somehow responsible for it...but he wouldn't dare dig into it much deeper. Somehow his mind always found a way to trick him, bringing thoughts about that other person he couldn't stand. It was not alright to compare. 

Azriel snapped back to reality as you moved to approach him, leaving the little girl under the care of an elderly villager. Even in her slumber, she made grabby hands at your receding figure.

"She seemed kinda reluctant in letting you go." He observed. The barely there ghost of a smile tugged at your lips but it was short lived and maybe, just maybe, he could have imagined it. "I didn't know you had a soft spot for children." 

You sighed softly, tiredly, as you walked beside him to your guarding spot for the night. He did notice the dark circles under your eyes, the way you tried and failed to keep your shoulders from sagging, and was about to offer to just take the guard himself when you spoke. 

"Children are very rare, and precious. It is a blessing to be able to connect with them." Your voice, albeit quiet, was charged with emotion. He thought that was as far as the conversation would go, but you swallowed and after a couple of heartbeats in silence, you spoke again. "I had a little sister once. She reminded me of her."

Maybe it was the rawness and vulnerability of the current situation at hand that had you sharing a little bit with him. Maybe you were so exhausted that you couldn't stop the thoughts from spilling from your lips. Whatever it was, it also compelled him to listen. 

"What happened?" He asked, barely above a whisper. 

You gave him the saddest, tight lip smile he ever saw you wear and something tugged at his very core. "We were born at the wrong place." 

He had judged you wrong, took you up for a cruel, dark creature, never once stopping to think about what you may have endured while you still lived at the Court of Nightmares. Azriel knew it was only a reflection of what he thought of himself. 

He didn’t dare ask about the mark on your wrist, not yet. It felt too personal, and he doubted you would have shared it with him anyways. 

"Listen about earlier..." He started an apology. Voice a little gruff. 

But you cut him out, pinning him with an icy stare, took up the spot on the nearby tree, and didn't talk to him again. 

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Hope I didn’t forget anyone. Thank you for reading :)