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kaylopolis · 4 months ago

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Alastor's Shadow (18+) - Chapter Fourteen

Alastor x F!Reader, Alias: Thestral

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn’t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you have finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest and with the Extermination coming six months earlier than planned, it is now time to implement your ultimate endgame. After all, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plan brings you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down but also challenge your grab for power…

Tag List: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

(Let me know if you want to be added to the Tag List!)

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Author note: Dear Hoteliers,

There is a very important message after the end of the chapter. I will repost it because I know not everyone reads the messages hidden within this post!

<3 Stay smutty

Chapter Fourteen - Picking a Fight

Content Warning: MINORS DNI!!!!! Mentions of abuse, Smut (let me know if I missed any!)

Alastor was sitting in the Doomsday District when he felt his magic surge. The demon had found a half-destroyed bench to sit upon, the metal twisted upon itself from one of his previous meltdowns. With his head in his hands, Alastor sat and contemplated the past few days - days? Or had it been weeks, months, since you kissed him in Louisiana? His sense of time had no meaning anymore.

“Hello, old pal,” a voice interrupted his thoughts.

Vox stood before the Radio Demon, a slick smile on his face as he surveyed the mess with which he had found him in. That was satisfaction enough for the media demon.

Alastor ran his hands through his hair - not to fix it, but to relieve the anger itching beneath his skin. Jumping right from helplessness to anger - he was so easily riled up these days, finding it harder and harder to contain his wrath. He had thought ripping up the Doomsday District would somehow help relieve that, like a slow release of propane from a gas tank about to be set on fire but it hadn’t. He should know better, the last time you had a hold on his emotions he tried the same thing, but to no avail.

“I am not in the mood for one of our little quips today. Go on home -“

And then he felt it. The magic beneath his skin surged, his green aura pulsed, only, it wasn’t his magic which emanated from his skin.

It was blue. It was your magic.

Alarm sparked panic in his chest. This wasn’t a coincidence.

“Yeah, I thought you’d say something like that,” Vox continued, completely unaware of the magic surging through Alastor’s veins.

It smelled of Jasmine.

Fuck.

The media demon flips his phone around to show a picture of you, unconscious and tied to a chair. Vox smirked at the realization growing on Alastor’s face.

He didn’t know it at the time, but Velvette had constructed two false images, including one of you.

“Checkmate,” Vox gloated. “This is how this is going to go-“

Before Vox had a chance to complete his rehearsed speech, Alastor had exploded in a wave of rage - a ball of living fire - except these flames were blue.

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For Alastor, everything changed the second you broke that seal. In that moment, he felt how much power you had. It radiated deep within his bones - even his soul felt it.

You carried a power so potent even Zestial would cower at your feet and - as much as Alastor hated to admit it - even he found himself unnerved around the original Overlord.

Roo. Here you were right in front of him the whole time. Raw power, hidden behind perfect teeth and red lips.

All he had to do was reach out and take it.

And then you leaned over him, had the audacity to leave yourself open. Alastor felt his body move before his mind did, his fingers itching for the handle of Velvette’s blade.

For you, you had proven you would do whatever it takes for power - Hell, you killed Eve for it. And now you had to live with the consequences. Alastor? He hadn’t crossed that line yet - he had no memories of guilt which screamed “No stop! Don’t do this!”

He had the memories of you, however.

Of annoyance.

Of desire.

Of lust.

Of fear.

Of worry.

Of happiness.

Emotions Alastor had not felt in such a long time…

So, why was it so easy to palm that blade and stab it straight into your belly?

Because Alastor was hungry. Like the cannibalistic murderer he is, Alastor has been chasing power long before he died - even so far as selling his soul for a drop more. And when you broke that seal and gave him but a taste of what ran through your veins, it pushed him past hungry, past starvation, the demon was dying and you were the only source of food for miles.

It blinded him - the power consumed his mind completely, directing him towards one prerogative - kill.

You expected this. Why? Because you did the same to Eve. Because you saw it in your father’s eyes every time he beat you.

The allure of power drowns its victim like a ship at sea in a storm.

You’ve seen that barely contained anger in Al before. The warning signs have always been there. How he tried to hold himself back when he’s around you, his demonic form slipping in and out when he sees something that he wants.

It wasn’t Alastor who sank that blade into your belly - it was the hunger for power, the Radio Demon within.

After all, who hasn’t been tempted by power and chaos?

“Absolutely beautiful,” Alastor had said.

Absolutely beautiful…

Absolutely beautiful?

Was he talking about you or the power…?

You broke the kiss. “Ha!” You laughed, the steel hilt deep in your belly. You didn’t even move, didn’t even flinch when Alastor stabbed you. “Oh, Mr. Alastor,” you sang, running your fingers through his bangs.

The demon sat back in his chair, absolutely confused. You’d die of shock seeing such an emotion on his face if you weren’t in the current situation the two of you had unfortunately found yourselves in.

How did Alastor phrase your deal? “A mutual agreement. We stay out of each other’s way, yet seek out the other when we can benefit equally.”

It was a verbal contract - not a written one. So, technically, the exact details weren’t drawn out. The magic was privy to the contractees’ interpretations, and magic works in funny ways.

Remember the dream the night you had your midnight meeting? Remember how Alastor attacked you and you defended yourself with your flames? Remember how it burned his clothes but didn’t hurt him.

That’s where it all began.

Anytime you had summoned your magic or Alastor had summoned his, it not only didn’t hurt you, but it empowered you.

You have stood in his static, have been enshrouded in his magic, and yet you came out unscathed. So why should a blade in his hand, hurt you? How was that any different?

You took the greatest gamble of your life, leaning over Alastor while he sat in that chair, allowing yourself to be vulnerable, knowing that there was a possibility that he could actually kill you. But you’re deal - it wasn’t just a quid-pro-quo, you help me out, I help you out. No, it was more than that…

… Alastor couldn’t harm you.

Which meant he couldn’t kill you.

And so you took the gamble.

You smirked, knowing your red lips did nothing but taunt the demon, “Quid-pro-quo,” You laughed. Grasping the blade, you slid it easily from your belly. You showed him the steel, absent of your blood. At most, the blade merely ripped your leather.

You laugh, “You shook on it.”

A huge fucking gamble, and it had paid off.

You take the blade and stab it directly into his right thigh. The demon didn’t even feel it. Batting your eyelashes, you turn your head like you sometimes see him do when asking a question, “Remember?”

Confusion turns to anger. And for the first time, you are met with a full-fledged Alastor in demonic form. The demon rips the blade from his leg and growls, his ears flattened against his head in irritation.

Oh, you were about to get the fight you have been dying for.

A tentacle wraps itself around your middle and flings you backward across the dirt. Landing on your back, you quickly jump to your feet, preparing for a possible second attack.

Alastor slowly rises from his chair, the knife slipping into his Void, and summons his microphone. He slams the cane against the ground, green sparks exploding from where it makes contact with the dirt before black tentacles emerge from his back.

The demon smiles, his lips threaded with green stitching. His sclera turn black, his antlers elongate, and prongs multiply atop his head. A green glow surrounds the Radio Demon as his body contorts in a series of cracks. Then Alastor begins to grow, the power with which he has gathered now physically represented by his size.

“Ha, ha, ha,” the demon chuckles, his laugh echoing as if through a broken radio. “Let’s begin.”

And then his tentacles lunge, the black tendrils encased in Alastor’s green static. You spin, taking flight. You fly right past the demon, weaving through his flurry of tentacles as you head for Pentagram City.

Alastor is hot on your tail the entire time, and just as you reach the edge, a tentacle wraps itself around your leg and flings you into a nearby abandoned building. Brick and metal come crashing down upon you as the building collapses, pinning you beneath it.

But it doesn’t slow you down. Summoning your blue flame, you set the rubble alight, and, like a newborn phoenix, you rise from the ashes. Only to be attacked by an army of… shadow demons?

Tiny doll-like creatures sewn together from black fabric lunge for your feet. Pulling your sword from the Void, you strike, but the blade does not cut them. Instead, they merely bounce off, like a ball hitting a baseball bat.

What the fuck are these things!?

One jumps for your leg, giggling as it attempts to sink its teeth into your flesh. Although you know it can't hurt you, you still instinctively jump out of its reach, using your wings to gain height. Luckily, the dolls can’t fly, and you watch as they jump beneath you, their arms outstretched as they lick their lips.

Cannibal dolls?

A growl warns you of Alastor’s next attack. You look up fast enough to see a literal car crash into you, the horn breaking as it slams into you. You land, the crumbled car crushing you as you roll down the street. Your wings take most of the impact, shielding your skin from the asphalt. Coming to a stop, you push yourself to your feet, the magic of the Book of Knowledge still surging through your veins. Standing, you face a demonic Alastor, his tentacles, as if legs, running down the street straight for you.

He’s made himself a target, blind with rage, drunk on the pursuit of power. It would be all too easy to summon the power you stole from Eve and turn it against the Radio Demon. You had never used it before, but there was no time like the present to learn.

Yet, as you stood, watching Alastor barrel straight for you, you hesitated.

No. Not because you couldn’t technically hurt him, but because you didn’t want to even try. Something within your chest twisted, stopping you.

You’ve been keening for a fight with him, but… but you couldn’t do it.

Instead, you stood your ground, focusing on the magic thrumming through your veins, and forced the power from the Book of Knowledge back behind its lock. The words disappeared from your skin as Alastor raised his staff.

A clang rang out as metal hit metal, your sword against his microphone. The demon was relentless, his strikes never letting up as he backed you down the street. All you could do was block, your heart not having it in you to strike back. Screams rang out as Sinners finally understood what was going on and fled in fear.

A crazed look in his eye, the demon continued to hack, his strikes sloppy, his weight thrown into every thrust. Technique-wise, he was no match for a skilled warrior such as yourself. You could have easily had him on his ass if you wanted to - but you didn’t.

A tentacle wrapped around your ankle, and as Alastor swiped at you with his staff, he pulled. You landed face first, a smack against concrete, rolling just in time to dodge the blow which was aimed directly at your face. As you rolled, you climbed to your feet and flung yourself out of reach of his next physical attack in one big beat of your wings.

The demon threw his microphone forward, just as he had done every time his tentacles came soaring for you. You readied yourself, prepared for the attack, but his tentacles remained still. The demon looked confused, so he did it again, but again, nothing happened.

He looked at his feet.

Oh, he wasn’t trying to attack you with his tentacles but with his shadow. The demon was commanding Rolf to attack you.

The shadow swirled at his feet, and frowned. Rolf actually frowned and then shook his head in refusal.

Ooooohh, and Alastor was not happy about that.

“Aaaaah!” The Radio Demon screamed as he slammed his staff down.

The ground cracked and broke in half, creating a chasm beneath your feet. You jumped just in time, but not fast enough to miss the Hellfire that was released from the earth. The green flames consumed you as you flew skyward, but, like all of Alastor’s other attacks, it did nothing to you. Soaring, you stopped as you reached the rooftops and got a better understanding of where you were.

You were on the edge of the Magne District and the Bordertown - in other words, you were blocks away from Alastor’s radio tower. As you caught sight of the iron structure, you felt that thing twist in your chest again. So many memories…

Again, the demon went after you, his tentacles propelling him to the rooftop of the building you soared over. His eye twitched, his smile constrained. And as he sent the next round of attacks your way, you felt your will to fight begin to fade. You didn’t dodge as quickly. You didn’t fly with as much vigor.

He wasn’t going to stop. Alastor wasn’t going to stop…

You’re not sure why you did it; perhaps some part of you was still holding on, but you led him right to the radio tower.

Landing on the balcony, you slipped your sword into the Void and waited as Alastor made his way up. The demon came to a stop at the other end of the landing, the lights of Pentagram City your backdrop. You put your wings away, your demon form slipping from you until you were just standing in your ripped leather gear.

There was a gleam in Alastor’s eye as he surveyed you. He thought he had you. God, he looked absolutely mad. You dodged as he swung, staying easily out of his reach as if it were a training exercise. Jesus, you could do this but not dance?

You looked into his eyes as he attacked you, seeing nothing but steel, a raging fire that had consumed him completely.

And that’s when you realized… Despite the contract you had made ensuring your safety, Alastor was still trying to kill you.

And your heart shattered. Your steps faltered, giving Alastor the opportunity to knock you to the ground. You didn’t even try to fight him as he climbed atop you, straddling your waist. The demon pulled Velvette’s blade from the Void, forgoing his microphone completely.

And you let him.

The Radio Demon held the edge to your throat, his entire body seething in anger and frustration at the object of all of his desires just out of reach. So close, yet so far.

“You want this more than you want me…” You whispered.

His mask slipped ever so slightly, his movements freezing as you spoke.

You gritted your teeth, “Fine. Alastor. You want it so badly, enough to kill me for it, then take it. Fucking, take it.”

You were so stupid. How could you think Alastor would be any different? Everyone in your life you’ve ever cared about ends up disappointing you…

“Alastor Hartfelt, I, Mikaela Morningstar, release you from our contract.”

SNAP!

The connection between you was severed.

And almost immediately, you felt warmth on your neck, the edge of the blade digging into your flesh just enough to draw golden blood. Alastor’s eyes were instantly drawn to it. The demon gasped. Something behind his gaze shifted at the realization of what you had just done.

“... And that’s when I decided she was not worthy of your death,” you repeated the words Alastor spoke to you after he saved you from Vox and Velvette, a moment in time when your death had nearly broken him. “No one was. If anyone was going to draw your last breath from these lips, it was going to be me.”

The demon met your gaze, his crazed smile faltering, the fire in his eyes sputtering.

“Make do on that promise, Radio Demon.” Your voice cracked as the tears streamed down the corners of your eyes. “You’d be doing me a fucking favor.”

A favor… because you’d rather be dead than live with the fact that Alastor would kill you for something so trivial as power.

He made you care about him. The way he rescued you from Velvette and Vox, how he dotted over you as you healed. He was killing himself with worry when you collapsed the second time. He made jambalaya from his mother’s recipe and spent hours sitting with you on this balcony, watching the City lights. He was worried when you didn’t eat, running straight to you when he heard. He kissed you as it rained, whispering promises in your ear. The demon danced with you in Mardi Gras, bought you a fucking donut, for crying out loud, and told you things about his mother that he never told anyone else.

Alastor made you fucking care about him, and now he was ripping out your heart and stabbing it with an Angelic blade - literally and metaphorically.

So yes, he’d be doing you a fucking favor because Alastor was killing you either way - slitting your throat was just the much less painful option.

You closed your eyes and waited for death…

You had taken so many lives, and yet you had never thought about your own. You never imagined how you might die because, up until recently, you didn’t know you could.

God, you didn’t know death could be this fucking painful.

Yet, you welcomed it. There was no afterlife for you to look forward to, which was a blessing. You didn’t have to live with this weight anymore, this burden of existence, of the trauma and torture you have been put through. Finally, you could just cease to be…

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The moment the golden blood trickled from your neck, Alastor’s mind flashed to the night you killed Val.

The demon had stalked you from the shadows, having heard the explosion all the way from the Doomsday District. He watched from the darkness as you burned Valentino from the inside out, absolutely mesmerized.

And then Velvette ran her blade across your chest, and golden liquid spewed from the wound onto the concrete. Alastor had never moved so fast in his life. In a blur, he summoned a tentacle and threw a car at Velvette and Vox, stopping them only momentarily but long enough. Then he was at your feet.

SNAP! The golden liquid disappeared, and Ralph shadowed you to the Nothing.

Alastor’s heart rammed so hard against his chest he could hear nothing else, think nothing else as he collected you in his arms. The Radio Demon had never really known true fear before, even as he died he wasn’t afraid. Such a foreign feeling… He didn’t know how to process it. It left his mind blank, his lungs devoid of air, his body aimless as he forced himself to move.

And then you were on his bed, your golden blood pouring into his red satin sheets. Rolf acted on his own, immediately taking off for Cannibal Town without Alastor even having to command him. The demon collapsed to his knees at the edge of the bed, forcing his claws to untie the dark cloak around your neck, but his damn fingers wouldn’t work! He was shaking so much…

“Oh, my stars!” Rosie melted from the floor, curlers in her hair and wrapped in a pink bathrobe. “Alastor, what is…” She caught sight of you on the bed and the Overlord in full panic next to you.

Alastor turned to her, desperation swimming in his eyes as he managed to utter two words, “Help me.”

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“Alastor,” Rosie set a steaming cup of tea before him - chai - but Alastor didn’t move to drink it. He couldn’t even pick up the cup. It reminded him too much of the coffee you made him, how you flavored it with chai leaves. It reminded him too much of you. Of the beautiful woman held together by nothing but thread in the next room.

Rosie lay a hand on his arm, moving slowly so as not to startle the demon. He had calmed down immensely but was still shaken up. “Tell me what happened.”

“She went after Valentino,” He swallowed dryly.

“Sweetheart, that’s not what I’m asking. I can see the destruction of the Tower from your window. I’m asking what happened to you. I’ve never seen you like that before.” The demon prodded carefully.

Rosie had asked about you before - attempting to pry information from Alastor. It’s not that she was spying on you. She didn’t need to do that. You told her everything. She wanted to know what Alastor thought of you. A matchmaker from the very beginning - from the moment you stepped foot into her Emporium and ran right into Alastor.

Alastor looked down at the cup, the leaves of tea swimming around the steaming liquid. “I don’t know. All I know is… It hurt… I hurt…”

Rosie cooed, “And why do you think that is?”

Alastor was speechless. Nothing coming to mind. He honestly didn’t understand what was happening to him. Why he was feeling the way that he was feeling. He’s never felt so utterly helpless and honestly couldn’t understand why.

“Darling, let me ask you, cannibal to cannibal, what is the most important organ in the body?” Rosie smiled, her teeth wickedly sharp.

Of course, Alastor picked the brain - so iconic and representative of his character.

Rosie giggled. “Oh no, I think my late husband is evidence enough of that. No, dear, it’s the heart. Something so vital that keeps us alive, and yet one tiny little nick and you bleed out and die. And dying hurts, let me tell you.” She shrugged, sipping her tea.

Rosie let Alastor stew on this for a moment before clearly spelling it out for the Overlord. “You are hurting because the Vees went after your heart.”

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CLANG!

Your eyes fluttered open to find Alastor looking back at you, tears in eyes of his own. His chin trembled as he cupped your cheeks. Alastor had dropped the blade, the steel clattering between the cracks in the balcony flooring before falling to the street below.

The demon’s forehead came to rest on your own as his demonic form receded, his green aura fading. “... a drop more might break me.” His voice shook, his words absent of his radio static, his Louisiana accent slipping through. “Rarely am I wrong about something.” He chuckled through a sob. “I just didn’t think it would be by my hand.”

“Alastor…?” You searched his eyes for an explanation.

“My darling.” A breath. “Ma cherie.” Another. “Mon couer.” Another. “My heart.”

Alastor’s eyes were glassy. “One cannot live without their heart.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

Was he saying what you think he was saying?

“You choose me?” You asked, hope sparking in your chest.

The demon smiles softly. “I choose you, mon couer. I choose you…”

You smiled as you grabbed Alastor by his shirt and pulled him in. Your mouths crashed together.

You can taste the relief on his lips, the solace evident with each swipe of his tongue. Finally, you could allow yourself to simply enjoy the taste of him. Finally, you could simply not think and only feel - no longer weighed down by the troubles plaguing your mind every time he grew close to you.

He knew your name.

He knew your secret.

He knew your power.

He knew everything.

And he had chosen you.

Nothing held the two of you back now, not emotionally or physically.

Alastor broke the kiss, already panting, his chest heaving as it matched yours, “How are your injuries?” His eyes roamed you, searching for active bleeding.

You smirked, “I’m in perfect health thanks to you,” you pulled the collar of your leather gear aside to reveal the injury Velvette gave you, the skin now pink and scarred over.

Alastor ran a finger across the mark, making you shiver beneath him.

You had much to figure out today, but it could wait.

The demon smiled, “Good,” he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I believe I made some promises to you that I intend to keep.”

Alastor dipped lower, and you gasped as his tongue connected with your skin. Alastor traced the outline of the cut on your neck. His forked tongue lapped the golden liquid, not letting a single drop escape. When his lips were wet and sweet with your blood, he leaned back far enough only for you to see his eyes, his pupils blown, “You’re mine,” he breathed.

Your body shuddered in what might have been a sob, a cry in joy as his lips found yours.

Finally. Fucking, finally.

You expected the kiss to be gentle - soft - a kiss that could take its time. After all, you had plenty of that now. But Alastor had warned you - he was not gentle. You moaned into his mouth, the iron tang of your blood on your lips as he crashed into you. The kiss was powerful, threatening to drown you in him completely.

The demon scooped you up in one fluid motion before you were shadowed into his bedroom and placed on red silk sheets.

The demon had his jacket off, never breaking your connection, before crawling up on you. The demon pushed you back, laying you out on the platter of red, his own personal feast. He pressed himself into you, one leg between your thighs, and you instinctively arched as his warmth soaked into your bones, as he hardened against you.

Alastor broke the kiss to run his tongue up your cheek, licking the golden liquid that had bled from your now-healed cheek. The demon moaned, his dick throbbing in his pants in response. You took the opportunity to find the buttons of his red suit jacket, popping open the three buttons before diving into the ones on his collared shirt.

There was something so intimate about undressing him. You could - if you had wanted to - magicked the clothes away, but where was the fun in that? There were layers to Alastor’s outfit, layers you wanted to peel back one by one; it was a privilege to do so. In a way, you felt like you had earned that privilege, and you were going to take advantage of every moment of it.

Al pulled back, surveying your face. He ran a hand through your silver locks as they splayed out across his sheets, pushing it aside from your neck where bruises once decorated your skin. His eyes lit up, almost as if they were screaming, mine, all mine, before his lips found your neck.

Oh, if you thought his kisses were intense before, it was nothing compared to now. Alastor held nothing back, his canines nipping at your skin till he drew blood. The pain was a beautiful burn that made your head dizzy. His tongue licked away the gold, soothing the erotic pain pooling in your core. You gasped as his hands found your hips and tugged.

He wanted your clothes off.

SNAP!

Your leathers disappeared, leaving behind nothing but your bra and underwear. The armor didn’t have zippers or ties, it wasn’t meant to be slipped on and off, but you wanted Alastor to undress you. You wanted to feel his claws as they scraped across your skin and slid your underwear down your legs…

Alastors hand found the waistband of your underwear. The demon chuckled against your neck, after stealing a glance. “Such a naughty little thing.”

You may have changed into your favorite pair of undergarments, a dangerous matching set of silk. All in red, just for him.

Alastor bit your neck, hard, not a full on bite, but a nibble that made you gasp. You arched up into him, his knee between your thighs. With one hand thrusted into your hair, the other went to your bra, to cup the swell of your breast.

The demon had perfectly sized hands, your breasts a matching handful. You cried out as he squeezed. Goosebumps rise on your skin as the demon’s mouth travels south, his lips trailing to the swell of your breasts. His claws scraped across your skin, finding the strap of the garment and slowly lowered it over your shoulder. You arched, prompting him to slide both hands behind your back as he smiled up at you, his eyes promising to do terribly wonderful things to you.

Then your bra was off, and his mouth was on your breast, and he sucked, his tongue flicking your nipple. You plunged your fingers into his hair, wrapping them around his locks. Your finger lightly brushed his ears, and the demon growled, his mouth on your breast, his hips bucking instinctively.

Alastor pulled back despite your bark of protest - that turned into a gasp as the demon backed off the bed, wrapped his arms around your hips, and tugged. He yanked you to the edge before violently ripping off your underwear.

Your cheeks heated as Alastor kneels before you, his face mere inches from your heat as he hooks your legs over his shoulders.

He was kneeling. The all and powerful Alastor Hartfelt was on his knees for you. No one would ever believe you…

And then he sinks two fingers inside you, all the way up to his first knuckle. You cry out, your breath stuck in your throat as your nails dig into his sheets. He slides his fingers out slowly, then shoves in hard again, practically pushing you back up the bed.

“Oh, my - Al!”

Alastor cuts you off with his mouth, his tongue licking your clit and setting you on fire. Instinctively, your toes curl, and your body pulls in on itself, but Alastor’s claw digs into the meat of your hip, keeping you spread open as he thrusts his fingers in again, his mouth feasting on your juices.

Digging your nails in tighter, you swear you rip the fabric, trying to hold on.

The demon chuckles as your next gasp turns into a moan. God, it was like Alastor was punishing you, dominating you, a relentless force pent on overpowering you in every sense of the word.

You swore you'd never bow before another again, never let another command you, but for Alastor, you'd gladly fall to your knees if he asked.

The pressure was starting to build. Fuck, the last time this happened, you leveled a building.

“Alastor,” you choked out.

But the demon didn’t stop, didn’t even come up for air. Alastor pulls his fingers almost all the way out before thrusting them fully in.

“Al-”

The demon glares at you, a gleam in his eye. He wanted to push you over the edge and was not going to stop, no matter what.

Shit. Shit. Shit!

He picks up the pace, his fingers constantly roaming in and out, his mouth working in tandem quickly working you up towards your climax.

Your head is gone now, your breathes in gasps with each pump of his fingers, each swipe of his tongue. The demon bites down on your clit between his upper teeth and lower lip. A wave of pain has you teetering.

“Al!” You scream as, on the last thrust, Alastor curls his fingers, hitting that wonderful bundle of nerves that has you flying over the edge. You arch up as spasms overcome your body, as Alastor continues to pump and continues to ride you through your high.

Be damned if you burned this place to the ground. It was worth it.

Your inner walls clench around his fingers, your entire body tensing up. Heat floods through you as you pant, breathless and dizzy.

Alastor doesn’t stop until your back finds the sheets again, until your twitching has slowed, and your breathing has normalized.

This entire thing feels like a dream as Alastor stands, untucks his shirt, and takes off his belt.

“No,” you squeak out, your body and mind numb with pleasure.

Alastor freezes.

“I want to,” you practically beg, reaching out a hand.

The demon chuckles, his face in his hands.

Wait.

You sit up, your mind sobering as you whip your gaze across the room. “It’s not on fire?”

Alastor’s smile kicks up in a sideways grin, “It’s not.”

You shoot him a questioning look. You don’t know how this is happening, but you know Alastor had something to do with it. A rune? Some sort of mark in his Voodoo?

The demon answers your question with a chuckle as he climbs atop you. Alastor’s arms frame your face, his smile lighting up yours as he towers over you. His locks were like a halo of red around his face, his antlers a few prongs larger than you remember.

You’re so captivated by a half shirtless Alastor towering over you that you completely forget what you were supposed to do.

He pauses, his breath hot on your lips, “well?”

Well? Oh! Yes.

Hesitantly, your fingers find his belt as you continue what he had started. Your heart is ramming against your chest, your hands suddenly very sweaty. Get it together. He’s made you orgasm twice now. You’re sitting beneath him, in his bed, wearing nothing. Why were you so nervous?

You paused at the button of his pants.

“Al, I… I’ve never…” You met his gaze and hoped your eyes communicated the rest of what you were trying to say.

His cheeks turned pink, “We move at your pace, mon couer.”

Your heart skipped a beat. He was giving you time for your mind to catch up with the rest of you.

First, thing’s first…

You force your fingers to move again and help him slide his shirt off. And then you don’t want to stop touching him. Alastor was so soft, the short fur along his torso and arms like the down coat of a fawn. It was longer around his chest, producing a fluff you were already making plans for. To spend your night sleeping on his chest…

You traced his scars, each old and grey, marking his beautiful ashen skin. Then you found the mark over his chest, the run of Transformare just over his heart. You traced the outline of it.

“My favorite one,” he smiled.

And that gave you the bravery to continue on. You shot up, your lips crashing into his as your fingers undid the button of his pants and began to tug down. Alastor laid you back out as he pulled off his pants and underwear in one swoop.

You gasped as the demon pressed onto you, his cock perfectly lining up with your folds. The demon ground his hips against you, coating his shaft in your juices, hitting your throbbing clit. Your mouth went dry at the sheer size of him. You wanted him, wanted every glorious inch of him in you.

And then you're drowning again as he kisses you, his thrusts harder and faster as he grinds atop you, Alastor the ocean wave which was pulling you deeper and deeper. And you gladly drowned. He rocks back on his hips, stealing the heat of his cock before he lines himself up, his tip pressing against your opening, and pauses.

He was waiting for you.

In response, you wrapped your legs around his thin waist. They sat perfectly at the crest of his hips, almost as if they were made for you, for this. The demon growled as you kissed him, and you laughed.

And then he slid in. And in. And in. Until his hips were flush with yours. Your nails dug into the muscle of his back, making the demon growl.

Jesus, he had your eyes watering; it was like your body forgot how to breathe. He stilled, letting you adjust.

“Are you alright?” Alastor was out of breath, his voice raspy and absent of static, as his forehead found yours, clearly bombarded with the same wave of emotions you had been.

You nod as you pull him down on top of you. You wanted to feel Alastor, to feel his warmth, to feel his chest heaving against yours, to feel the muscles in his abbs as he thrusts into you. You have been starved for touch for so long that you have become desperate - desperate and greedy.

The demon moved slowly, pulling out slightly before pressing back in. His hips stuttered, “Satan,” he choked. “You’re tight.”

Again, he pulled back, then thrust in. The demon fisted one hand in your hair, the other coming to rest behind your thigh, giving himself leverage as he moved.

And as Alastor moved, his forehead on yours as you kissed, your breath building as you huffed through your noses, it became easier. It became pleasurable. It became faster, deeper.

It made you hungry for more.

“Fuck me,” you breathe between moans. “Fuck me, Alastor.”

A fire sparks in his eyes as his hands sink to your ass. The demon has your legs wrapped around him, and off the bed, your back pressed against the wood head rest as he fills you. Every inch, every hard ridge. Alastor’s teeth find your bottom lip, and he bites down as he slams into you with enough force, that the bed shakes.

Your moan is on the edge of a scream as blood fills your mouth. Alastor’s tongue laps at your lips, at your tongue, devouring the tangy liquid flooding your mouth and dribbling down your chin. The cannibal is determined not to waste a single drop as he feasts. You wrap your arms around his neck and hang on for dear life, your nails digging into his skin, just exciting him even more.

There is nothing gentle about the Radio Demon - no wonder he wanted to wait, no wonder he held himself back all those nights ago. He surely would have split you in two had you begged him to try.

But it would have been so worth it.

Your veins sang beneath your skin with the build of your climax, your heart beating in time with Alastor’s.

The demon released a hand to find your clit, circling as he thrusts. Immediately, you’re toeing the edge, your moans choked screams, as Alastor picks up the pace, sweat licking your bodies.

Alastor’s claws dig into the meat of your hip as pulls you down on him with every thrust, as he buries himself over and over again, the tip of his cock brushing the entrance of your cervix. You’re there, you’re at the edge…

“I’m close!” You breathe, every edge of you burning with pleasure. You’re so wet, you’re dripping down his balls as he sinks into you.

Not yet. No. You want to linger. You want to savor this. Every second of it.

And then Alastor’s lips find your neck, and he bites. The pain sends you over the edge, and you scream as the orgasm tears through your body. Alastor continues to pound into you, hard and fast, drawing out your pleasure. The demon grows harder, more frenzied with his movements, and then he’s roaring as he slams into you to the hilt, spilling inside you.

Alastor growls as his dick throbs against your clenching inner walls, milking him of every last drop. And then Alastor slows as he collapses into you, his head resting on your shoulder as he slowly thrusts in and out, his body spasming with pleasure.

And then there is silence, interrupted only by your panting breaths.

When your souls finally return to your bodies, you take Alastor’s face in yours. The dreamy, drunk look on his face has your heart soaring. No one has ever seen Alastor like that. You’ve earned the privilege to see him like this.

Alastor rocks in and out of you in slow, languid thrusts, like he’s savoring the feeling of you wrapped around him.

“Mon couer,” he breathes before he kisses you, long and slow.

You giggle, just as high as him, “mine.”

The demon freezes, giving you a look as if he didn’t hear you right.

“I choose you, too, Alastor. You’re mine.” You beam before kissing him. His mouth is unmoving for a second before he kisses you back. The demon digs his hips into you, sinking his head in till it hits your cervix - you swear to God!

The demon lays you back down on the bed.

“I’m yours,” he smiles against your lips, and then he swallows your gasp as he thrusts again. “I’m yours, mon couer, only yours.”

Alastor’s mouth trails down your jaw, across the bruises forming on your throat. You moan when his tongue finds the bite, the mark he used to claim you, the soreness that now represents everything. The demon uses his tongue to outline the mark, the golden blood now clotting.

With the taste of you on his lips, the demon was growing hard again, his dick throbbing inside of you as he stroked slowly.

This time is different. This time Alastor is slow, his fingers bunching in your hair but not tearing, his lips kissing you deeply, his mouth drunk on your taste. You breathed Alastor in as your tongue lazily played with his, as your hips moved in time with his strokes.

This wasn’t just him claiming you. This was Alastor promising you. This was him pledging to be yours and only yours, to be all the things he was scared of being, to devote his very being in honor of you.

And you could feel it. You could feel his growing desire. It wasn’t just in the pounding of his heart or the way his breath quickened as it mixed with yours but somehow sank into your bones.

If your magic could be summoned as it had whenever Alastor’s lips were on yours, the colors of your magic would be singing right now. Their masterpiece a demonstration of the vow he was making you.

You let your hands wander over every hard ridge of him. Outlining his pecs, the defined abbs on his torso, the strength in his shoulders. To his cut jawline and soft hair. You played with his locks as Alastor continued to thrust in you, your quick breaths turning to moans.

It was slow, it was passionate, it was intense.

Alastor breaks the kiss to decorate your neck, marking his territory, the bruises proof that this was real. Your gaze falls to where the two of you are connected, his shaft pulling away with both of your juices, turning his dick white with cum.

Oh, God the way he filled you with his cum…

You clench around him at the memory of the feeling, making the demon’s hips stutter, eliciting a growl that vibrates from his chest through yours.

You can’t help but smile as you kiss him. The power you had over him, over his body…

Alastor responds by thrusting harder.

CRACK!

The bed breaks, and the next thing you know, the two of you are rolling off the side. Alastor takes the brunt of the fall, pulling you into him as his back smacks against the wooden floor.

“Al, are you -?”

The demon interrupts your question with a laugh. It was so genuine and absent of his usual radio static that it catches you off guard before you’re laughing right along with him.

And then the two of you realize something: you were on top.

You blink at each other a moment, registering what this means, but Alastor doesn’t make an attempt to move you. Instead, he grabs your hips and guides you up and down his cock. It’s awkward at first - you’ve literally never done this before - but you eventually find a rhythm that has the two of you moaning all over again.

Regardless of the position, Alastor was still in control, which was a relief - your lack of experience was frankly embarrassing.

You dig your fingers into his fluff, using it as leverage as you bounce up and down. You can feel the wetness pooling out of you and dribbling down his cock.

From this position you could fully appreciate Alastor, disheveled and overwhelmed by you. His chest is heaving, his hips bucking up into you, deepening the muscles on his torso.

God, it was a beautiful sight.

The demon reaches up and wraps his fist in your hair before using it to pull your lips down to his. His claws dig into your other hip as his thrusts quicken, as he pounds into you.

And then he’s spilling into you all over again, his warm seed filling you and then sliding down his cock. The orgasm surprises you, overtaking your body without warning.

God, the feeling of being filled was enough to drive you over the edge.

You collapsed on Alastor, your face in the fluff of his chest as he thrust, your orgasm milking every ounce of his seed.

And when his hips finally slowed, Alastor collapsed fully, his hands coming to rest in your hair and on your back. The two of you lay there for a long time, not minding the mess you had just made, your minds and bodies too numb to fully comprehend anything but the aftershock of pleasure.

You breathed him in, letting his scent of forest and musk prolong your ecstasy. The room danced in the flavor of warm vanilla, evidence of what you had just done wafting out the slightly ajar back door. The curtains were down, so no one could see in.

When Alastor somehow found the ability to move again, he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Mon couer?”

“Hmm?” You hummed, dreamily snaking your head up to meet his half-lidded gaze through your curtain of hair. You were sleepy and oh-so-content. You could fall asleep right there on the floor and sleep for days if he let you.

“How about a bath?” As if on cue, the sound of a faucet turning creaked from the bathroom. Running water could be heard echoing through the tile walls.

You giggled, nodding.

Slowly, Alastor pulled out of you. You whimpered at the sudden empty feeling, the loss of warmth that was purely Alastor filling your core. It was a feeling you were instantly missing.

The demon carried you to the tub, now steaming and filled with bubbles. He gently sat you in before climbing in behind you, letting you lay against him as he washed you.

The fluff on his chest was like a pillow as you lay there, drowning in the scent of his shampoo. It was like being on sensory overload, except the only sense was Alastor.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Alastor took his time massaging your limbs, easing the tension from your muscles. He inspected every healed cut and new scar he had never seen before until he was satisfied that you were fine and really and truly in one piece. He even took the time to wash your hair, his claws scraping against your scalp as he scrubbed. You hummed in delight, bringing a genuine smile to Alastor’s face.

The wash was more cathartic for Alastor than it was for you. For him, he needed this. After you almost died, he needed to see you be strong again. He needed to see you at your highest before he could heal from seeing you at your lowest. And, as if to solidify it in his brain that this wasn’t a dream, and you were really and truly alive, he needed to inspect you himself - and he also did get satisfaction at seeing the new marks which he had left on your body. The slowly darkening bruises and bites he had left behind…

The narcissist…

When he finished with you, he washed himself. You were practically asleep when he finished - although he did do his best not to disturb you as much as he could. The demon slowly slid out from behind you to grab you a towel. It took some coaxing, but he finally got you to stand on your own as he wrapped you in the soft cotton.

When you returned to bed, you found it perfectly made, with fresh sheets and fluffed pillows. The foot on his bed frame had snapped during your endeavors, but Alastor had it repaired while you bathed. You’d sleep soundly in a level bed tonight.

Soft jazz clicked on as Alastor tucked you in before sliding in himself. You curled into the demon, who had crawled into bed with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, immediately seeking his warmth.

Alastor rarely slept, but today was an exception…

With your head on his chest, your feet tangled in his, and his arms wrapped around you, you felt complete.

And the two of you dozed off into slumber to the words of Nat King Cole’s “Unforgettable.”

Okay, Hoteliers, why did I do this? Why not have Alastor never attack Mikaela in the first place? Why didn’t he just drop the knife and kiss her, and then I write a chapter filled with some seriously overdo smut? Because there was still one thing about Alastor that had not been challenged yet - in the fanfic and in canon. Yes, Alastor had fallen for the reader, but there was still this giant thing hanging over their heads that they did not address, which needed to be hit upon in order for the two of them to finally accept their feelings for each other. What would Alastor do if something/someone he loved more than power stood in the way of him achieving it? You, as Mikaela, already made that decision when you killed Eve - you’d do anything. Yet, deep down, you knew you couldn’t do it to Alastor - you, as the reader, had decided that without me even having to write it. You were literally screaming in the comments about it as you read chapter thirteen.

Yet Alastor had never been asked that question. So we needed to see what he would do. Given the opportunity, he needed to be forced to choose, and he needed to see that that choice would have consequences. That's why I needed Alastor to stab you, to go after you, to draw blood. Why go to such lengths? Because Alastor is a stubborn, stubborn man, and changing him would not be an easy thing to do, especially when it is something so central to his character. I mean, he's a cannibalistic murderer; how much more literal does Viv need to get about his desire to consume power? Being forced to choose was not only about you but about him as well. In the writing business, we call it ~character development~.

So no, I couldn't simply have Alastor drop the knife and whisk you away into a fairytale. This moment, this part of Alastor, posed an obstacle for me: a giant wall preventing me from continuing on. I needed Alastor to grow, to unlock that part of himself that let you in, choose you over everything else, and for him to accept that.

Don't worry, we still have more to go - they still have to learn why they are both at the Hotel, what their involvements are with Lilith, and what Mikaela’s big endgame actually is, but that stuff is trivial compared to their cannibalistic desire for power - especially considering Mikaela is Roo, the embodiment of it. I mean, that’s how this fanfic all started, right? “Power is of two kinds. One is obtained by the fear of punishment and the other by acts of love. Power based on love is a thousand times more effective and permanent than the one derived from fear…” And I think it’s important to remember that because it will be a theme through to the end of this fic.

<3 Stay smutty Hoteliers - smut is coming next chapter. You’ve earned it ;)

-> Chapter Fifteen

Tagged Hoteliers (Let me know if you want to be added!):

@sirens-and-moonflowers @wonderlandangelsposts @saccharine-nectarine @mommymilkers0526 @goyablogsstuff

@eris-norwega @missgirlsstuff @alastor-the-radio-demons-blog @sillywormtrixareforkids @its-a-dam-blue-brick

@cloverresin20 @blue-bird251 @speedycoffeedelight @littlebluefishtail @saw1987

@mopeyghost @beelz3bub @fraugwinska @minamilinaqueen @demoarah

@diffidentphantom @divineknightmare @animecrazy76 @sleepykittycx @graunta

@reath-solia @satansdaughter123 @mysticatto @freshonyourpages

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affableramen · 18 days ago

Text

tsundere!pantalone having hateful sx with his sworn enemy (you)

explicit, mature, sexual themes, mostly rough and angry sx; female reader. if you proceed on reading you confirm being 18+

first time with pantalone is here

note: this one is short. also, pantalone is emotional asf.

“You’re so fake, it’s almost disgusting!” You raise your hand to deliver a slap to his pale face, but Pantalone is agile enough to take it quickly.

“I know I am fake, that is common knowledge”, he says with a strict tone, his eyes glaring at you as raging flames. This man is so smooth and cold, but behind his whole subtlety there’s fiery personality you slowly start to be enamoured with.

He tightnens his grip on you, dangerously painful, and his eyes fall down from your big rounded eyes to your plump glossy lips.

You know where exactly he guilted himself into staring.

“This is what I do for survival”, he takes one more step closer to you, his other hand moving up from the bottom, tracing the contours of your hip (you didn't know how he could feel your body under all those numerous layers of rough fabrics). “Lying to people.”

“Fake, fake, fake! All of you!” You almost scream into his mouth.

“I guess you are a saint, then?” One more leaning to your face, you feel his raven locks tickle your cheek and neck.

“No, I always admit when I am a bad guy. But you do not.”

“Oh, my dear. If only you could see what’s behind that ‘bad guy’ attitude…” He can't wait any second more, releases your hand and cups your cheeks gingerly.

“Let me kiss you, just this once.”

Before you could fetch him a respond, Pantalone already starts devouring your lips with long pent-up fervour at first. You grab his hair and grasped it in your finger though a sudden burst of adrenaline made you involuntarily bite his lip. A sound of protest merged with pain escapes him. Pantalone pulls away running his fingers down his lips that are bleeding weakly. You see the expression on his face and immediately rush to apologise, with your face red of embarrassment. As if in order to apologise, in a most different way though, you move your hand downwards and touch him below his belt. His surprise of pain falters and morphs into bliss, the corners of his lips dropping as his mouth opens agape. You rub it a few times, not enough to lead him to peak before you suddenly find yourself in the softness of sheets, spreading wide.

Pantalone cages you between his arms, his hands squeezing your thighs before he enters with one movement. You make an “oh” sound to one another.

You find yourself almost fainting, but Pantalone pulls you back into reality.

“Oh, Pantalone…”

“Say it again.”

“Pant—archons!..”

He chuckles and smirks, enjoying how he humiliates you with his size and bold movements, before being trapped by his own overwhelming sensations.

“Ah… yes…”

You allow him more depth and watch as your most sworn enemy bucks his hips against you with the most intense expression ever on his face.

“You’re mine. I got you.” He hisses.

“I hate you… so badly.”

“I hate you, too. The way you soften me—ngh!”

Can you deny how much you want him? Can you not feel how good you and him fit together? Can you not see the expression on his face when he is balls deep inside you?

“There is no place for hate in intimacy with one another. Pantalone, I have the softest feelings for you, let me indulge it—oh!”

His hand slides up your chest and squeezes a breast of yours.

“Ngh—shit…” Pantalone lets out a profanity blended with the most private sound you could ever receive from him. “I just—want to—love you.”

You feel it too, the vivid sensation between your legs, your heat pooling. It was as if something within him had been suddenly awakened and he started thrusting more forcefully.

“You-” You move your hips in accordance to his, trying to keep up and match his pace.

“You hate me? Keep… saying that… but I don’t think I… believe you…”

Suddenly you grip him very tightly (and your heat squeezes him inside) which causes a yell from Pantalone’s lips.

“Ah! For archon’s sake, Y/N—”

“Don't yell so hard, you're scaring me!”

“I can't hold it in any longer. Not with you, little foolish dove.”

His sight is covered with haze and he starts losing himself completely, fucking into you roughly and desperately. The deep, precise pushes are met with your high-pitched sounds of bliss.

“You will pull out, will you?” You slap him. “Pantalone, will you?”

Drunken by desire to have you whole, he hums:

“I will try.” Feverishly he nods but the sparks in his eyes tell a different story. He is breaking into a million pieces to not hurt you unintentionally.

Not many thrusts after Pantalone pulls out and touches himself until release. He gasps for breath with his head tilting back before landing on the bed, his hands to the sides, caging your head.

“You’re a beast.” He moves the forefinger down your cheek.

“Perhaps. But I’m also your enemy. And I didn't expect the intimacy with one to be so…”

“So what?”

“So desirable.”

“Oh, bastard! If you don’t kiss me now!”

Pantalone doesn't wait and pushes his lips against yours in a kiss that is gentle, not feverish like the first one.

“Will you stay? For one more night, with me?” He gives it a long thought before cutting the silence like glass again.

“I’ll see what I can do. I need to make some calls to back me up.”

“Do you want me to wait in the other room?”

“I won't go anywhere without you. What if you decide to escape?”

“You are willing to make a phone call with me eavesdropping?”

“Darling, I can talk discreetly.”

#pantalone x reader #pantalone x female reader #pantalone self insert #pantalone x y/n #pantalone x you #pantalone smut #genshin smut #genshin x reader

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ruiniel · 9 months ago

Text

What You Choose

Fandom: Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba

Pairing: Rengoku Kyojuro x f!reader

Count: 2K

Rating: T (M later)

On AO3

Summary: I recently watched/read KNY and have emotions. Likely done before, but wanted to get this out of my system so wrote it down. Rengoku survives the fight with Akaza, but some battles are not so straightforward.

Tags & Warnings: Rengoku lives AU, multichapter, blood, injury, pining, angst, second person POV, demon slayer!reader, tsuguko!reader, alternating POV, Oblivious Rengoku Kyojuro, for a while at least, Death, Mild Gore, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut

All characters depicted are 18+

Everything fades. His body is going numb, his vision blurs as he stares down at his reflection in the dark pool of his own blood, unable to lift his head. The cries of grief surrounding him become dim and scatter like dying leaves from his consciousness.

I've done my duty, I've given my all.

The last he remembers is a small, clawed hand and a sudden, blooming flame bursting through his shattered torso, scalding him from within in ways his own fire never could.

I see... So this is what it feels like… to burn.

The balmy weather outside has no effect on you, seated at the side of the infirmary bed, your head in your hands.

“Perhaps you should go and rest. There’s been no change, and we’ll be sure to inform you of any developments.”

Aoi’s words are void of their usual sternness. You’ve heard them before, and yet—

“I’m fine, I really am.” You gaze back at the prone figure lying motionless beneath crisp white sheets. His gold and crimson hair is messy, and you’ve never seen him so pale, his features so sunken. The bandage covering his left eye is stained red in places, the usually smiling lips dry and bloodless.

Aoi sighs but says nothing else, and soon her departing steps echo against the walls.

I can’t. I can’t leave his side. You wish your thought could reach him, down to whatever place he’s struggling in now. You ball your hands into fists over your knees, a poor attempt at holding your composure. Please, come back. Please.

Weeks have passed since the mission on the train, since your group has returned with wounded bodies and spirits, though none in such a critical state as your mentor. Rengoku Kyojuro has not awakened since, and in contrast, since the nightmares the demon has placed upon you in that baleful encounter, you’ve not been able to sleep more than two to three hours every night. Every time, waking up in a sweat, the memory of what happened always the last image you remember.

“How is he today?”

You’re drawn from your thought by the gentle voice of the person you feel like you owe a life of debt to, and turn to gaze into the tired, worried eyes of Tanjiro Kamado. He stands by the bed now, glancing down at the Hashira. The slow rise and fall of his chest is the only sign that he is still alive.

You shake your head as Tanjiro takes a seat. “How is rehabilitation training going?”

Tanjiro smiles, still staring at the bed and its unresponsive occupant. “Almost done, I feel my strength returning to what it used to be and more. I admire how well you’ve upheld yourself, though,” he murmurs.

It’s true, for some reason, you’ve been the least scathed of them all, needing much less medical care than the rest. No, you know the reason why. “It’s because of him,” your words escape you. “If… if he hadn’t trained me as he did, if he hadn’t driven me so far beyond my limits, I don’t know if I would have survived for as long as I have in my role.”

“Oh, yes, I’ve heard. They say Lord Rengoku’s methods are… harsh to say the least.”

A smile tugs at your lips as a known pain pricks your heart. “But… but I’ve been remiss in thanking you, young Kamado—or rather, your sister. If she hadn’t…” Your throat tightens; you don’t want to break down, not here, not before Tanjiro and not before him, no matter he can’t hear it.

“Please, please don’t worry, it was a stroke of luck and quick thinking on her part, I only brought the box closer—”

“... she healed him! I saw the flames engulfing him, I saw the wound close. I don’t know how she did it but… Nezuko is someone... very special.”

Tanjiro lowers his head in humble acknowledgement. “I will tell her.” Then, as though remembering something, he reaches into his pocket and hands you a small bag. “Here, I’ve not seen you join meals very often and… well, please take them.”

You don’t have the strength to refuse, and take the bag from his hand, meeting his kind smile. “Candies…” You thank him before placing them on the bedstand, and after a few more moments of sitting in comfortable silence, Tanjiro takes his leave. You watch him depart, endeared by his manner and honesty. He has a good soul, a strong will—perhaps the strongest you’ve known, apart from…

You stare back at your mentor, memories of the past flooding behind your eyes.

Five months prior

“Good! Again!”

You’re panting, your total concentration breathing nearly failing as you evade another deadly arc of the Third Form: Blazing Universe.

The sun has westered and a bluish twilight sets over the lands, but your mentor still has you parrying his unwavering techniques, before making you attack using combinations of them in turn.

“Lord—lord Rengoku—”

His blazing speed cuts your words short as your blades clash, and you stare into bright, golden-rimmed irises. He’s smiling, as usual, with a devilish spark in his eyes. There is a sudden flutter in your stomach, overriding the fatigue in your burning muscles. “Come now, don’t tell me you’re beat! You’ve come so far after only three years!” he says as you fall back, lunging for another attack the following second.

The sudden weakness you feel when you’re close to him has you confused, because it was not there before. It all began in the past year: whenever he stares at you in a certain way, whenever he touches you during training or meets your eyes, something gnaws achingly at your chest. It’s as though you need something from him, but have no idea what it is.

“I knew it from the moment I took you on as a successor,” he says, merciless in his offensive. “If you—” Parry. Lunge. “—carry on like this—” Attack. Jump. “—you’ll reach a Hashira level of skill in no time at all!”

You don’t have the chance to reply, though his words feel like honey coating your senses. At first, he’d been sparse and strict, keeping to instructions and nothing else. But you struggled, worked harder than you had for anything in all your life, and it seems he acknowledges this fully now.

“Now—Ninth Form: Rengoku!”

That means you must attack, and he must deflect. But—Ninth Form?! “I—I can’t, I’m… I’m too exhausted for the Ninth!”

He bursts forward with Unknowing Fire, forcing you to duck and curl your body, rolling away into the dust, rising on one knee.

The Flame Hashira turns, pointing his weapon at you. “Is that what you plan on telling the demons?”

“Well, no, but—”

“At no point during a battle will you have the luxury of biding your time. If this were an actual encounter, you’d be dead.” He no longer smiles, his face turned cold, eyes glinting like molten steel.

You feel the rush of shame like fangs biting into you, fueling a horrible need to prove him wrong, to rise up to the challenge in his voice. With a hiss and a groan you grip the handle of your katana tightly, breathing and striving to light that spark in your heart.

With a cry you speed forward, clashing with him in a desperate lunge.

“Ha!” The smile returns as you grit your teeth. “Better!”

His face is so close to yours again, so close you feel the rush of his breath on your cheek.

Your knees feel weak again, and you close your eyes, pushing forward in an attempt to skew his balance.

What the hell is happening to you?

“Faster, the fire is still weak! It must rage!” the Hashira says, grinning like a madman now, and where once you enjoyed the path of learning and reaching your full potential, now his attitude brings forth an ache that confuses you and leaves you anxious.

Even so. Your blades sing against each other as you lunge back in a high jump, landing in a lowered stance with one palm braced against the earth. Your uniform is wet on your back, and you’re closer to your breaking point than you've ever been.

But the thought of disappointing him, now that feels unbearable. So you do what you always do: you push yourself more, more, harnessing all your strength into one melting core, bathing your heart in it and firing up your veins.

You attack.

He laughs outright. “Not bad, but—” Your swords clash, fiercer than before. “I know you can do better, and you can be faster.”

“I’m doing all I can!” you yell, at the end of your tether now. It’s not the first time, nor will it be the last. But he takes no offense, he never does, and that's one of the things you appreciate about him. “But you—you make it impossible! You always want more, even if you know I’m not ready for it!”

It must be the fire rushing through you that has you speaking this way, daring to say such words despite knowing full well what you were in for, when you accepted to become his successor.

“Wait until you’re ready, and you will never improve!” the Flame Hashira throws back.

A growl leaves your throat as you fall back then speed towards him again, trying the Second then the Third form in succession sloppily but you’re past caring.

Your arms feel as though they will tear and your bones might splinter as you crash against his unwavering stance, and you meet his scarlet-gold gaze as he speaks softly, his voice imbued with warmth: “You can surpass the impossible. I believe in you.”

Your eyes widen, that damned ache ringing through your body like a weakening poison and—

For one split second, your stance weakens, and you’re thrown back, losing your balance and falling heavily onto the ground.

Rengoku stares down at you, tilting his head to the side with a strange look on his face as he sheathes his katana.

Your vision sways, your lungs might burst. You barely clutch at the helping hand extended to you, aiding you to your feet. He grasps your shoulders. “What happened there just now? Your focus melted like wax.”

“I…” You can’t look him in the eye. His hands on you diffuse heat, permeating through your clothing. It feels good. It scares you. “I don’t… know.”

“Tomorrow, again,” he says, releasing you. “Please do better. Remember we’re doing this for you, but foremost for the people.”

“Understood,” you murmur, biting back tears as you watch him walk away.

Midnight has arrived when you end your reverie, thinking about that emotion that took root in your body and spirit, growing stronger as time passed. And you never dared tell him, never dared facing it nor can you explain why. You take a deep breath, leaned with your arms folded on the edge of the bed, your forehead resting on them. You never told him, and now…

And now with each day I’m losing hope.

Your shoulders are shaking, and your eyes sting. There is no one else here but you and him, the long chamber of empty beds the only witness to your breakdown.

You’re so absorbed by despair, you don’t perceive the faint movement, or the hand gently placed on your head.

“... Why are you crying?”

You choke on a silent sob, blinking in shock at the low, throaty voice, broken with disuse. Slowly, you raise your head.

He's staring at you, a bleak smile on his lips, and you're utterly, incomprehensibly frozen.

“You… you’re awake?” It feels like the dumbest of questions: your body knows the truth before your mind catches up.

“That… depends. Are you really here?” he asks in turn.

You nod, biting on your lower lip and wiping your eyes with your sleeve. “Yes, yes I am.”

The smile wavers for a moment as he grimaces in pain. “Oh, I see. Then… it seems… you’re not rid of me yet.”

All the gods in all the world couldn’t keep the emotions flooding you at bay, and you shake your head as warm tears flow down your face.

PART II

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer x reader #rengoku kyojuro #kny #rengoku x reader #kny fanfic #x reader #ruiniel:fanfiction

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shadowdaddies · 1 year ago

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Hi:) I'm so happy that I am not annoying you with all the Eris requests, I really thought I was. May I ask for another one? One where the reader and Eris are mates and she is had always desired to dance with someone but she never had the chance and he arranges that. Please🙏

No you have NEVER annoyed me!! I've never been annoyed by requests, it brings me so much joy when you guys enjoy my writing💜 I appreciate you

A/N: oh this made me EMOTIONAL thinking about Eris with a mate where he doesn't care about how others perceive them, he's only focused on them

Dance with Me

Eris x fem!Reader

You were perched in Eris’s lap as he spent another late night in his office, sorting through reports that had him tugging at his flame red hair in frustration. Wiggling on his lap, your nose nuzzled into his neck, breathing in his comforting scent as you pressed a soft kiss to his skin. Eris stiffened beneath your gentle touch, letting out a quick exhale.

“I need a break,” he announced, hands wrapping securely around your waist as he lifted you from his lap. Eris stood from his chair, smirking at you as he took your hand in his and led you to the open space of his office, between his desk and the fireplace. “I need a dance with my lady, if I am to make it through this evening,” Eris spoke dramatically, bowing to you before he offered his hand. You giggled at your mate’s propriety - he was such a skilled dancer, and you were thankful that he entertained your attempts at the activity.

He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your hand that made you blush furiously before pulling you into his arms and leading you in a silent waltz. Eris’s heartbeat, the crackle of the fire, and your laughter as you tripped over his feet - only for him to catch you in a graceful dip - echoed through the study. Amber eyes glowing with amusement, Eris smiled as he twirled you around the floor.

It was a favorite pastime for him to dance when he was stressed, and you loved learning something new from your mate. You dreamt of dancing in a beautiful ballgown, your mate leading you in front of the courts one day. Eris could tell you were lost in thought, a soft smile playing on his lips as he twirled you. “What’s on your mind, little vixen?”

You blushed, laughing nervously as you told Eris what you were dreaming about, but rather than laughing with you, Eris stopped the dance. Tilting your chin up, amber eyes looked deep into yours as Eris promised you, “I will not allow my mate’s dreams to remain such. I can think of no higher honor than to dance with you for everyone under this sky to witness.” Melting at his poetic way with words, you broke form, holding Eris close as you slow danced to no music, just the sound of his heart beating with yours.

~~~

Weeks passed, and before you knew it, the Autumnal Equinox was around the corner. It was an obscenely grand celebration in the court - for obvious reasons - and you had spent weeks helping plan the festivities and having fittings for your gown.

The Equinox was a twenty-four hour celebration, recognizing the equal hours of day and night as the season turned - but the night festivities were the highlight of the year, when the grand ball was held. The ball always began as a formal, civilized affair, but around midnight inevitably devolved into hedonism and debauchery that put Calanmai to shame.

You smirked at your form in the mirror, the shimmering ruby dress adorned with gold-toned leaves accentuating your figure perfectly. A knock on your door sounded, and one of your ladies-in-waiting who had helped ready you for the evening answered it with the excitement that you all shared amongst yourselves. Eris let out a soft laugh though the doorway at her eager expression, but all joking disappeared from his face as he looked to you.

Eris stumbled back a step as he admired you, the slightest bit of silver lining his eyes as he let out a small gasp. “You look... ethereal, my Lady,” Eris breathed, his eyes never leaving yours as he held out his arm for you to take.

You arrived at the ball, Eris seemingly still dazed by your appearance as the grand doors swung open to reveal the room of people. Many males watched as you entered, anyone who dared approach you earning a frightening snarl from Eris. You didn’t mind, leaning into his warmth as he wrapped an arm protectively around you and led you through the crowd.

Swiping champagne from a serving tray, Eris handed a glass to you and toasted to the beginning of Autumn. You watched the dancing for awhile, admiring the twirl of skirts and the rhythm of the music as they spun around the floor, all the while Eris gossiping about court politics and scandals that had you snickering in amusement. You had finished your drink, leaning into Eris’s side when the dance ended, and with a wicked gleam in his eye, Eris took your champagne flute, setting it down as he pulled you to the floor.

“Eris! I can’t dance here, I haven’t had enough practice for this yet,” you whispered as he smiled down at you with a twinkle in his eye. “You’ll do just fine, vixen. Just like we practiced - and I’m always here to catch you if you fall.” You felt the deeper emotion behind his words, taking hold of his hand as you lifted your chin and settled into practiced form.

The swell of the violin signaled the start of the dance, and Eris led you in a waltz as the orchestra played, groups of people stopping to watch as you fumbled your way through the motions. “Breathe, my love,” Eris whispered in your ear - just before you stumbled. Holding onto one of your hands, Eris spun you in a perfect circle before catching your waist, dipping you as if your mistake was a practiced maneuver. People cheered from the sides, impressed by your skill while you and Eris continued the dance. You felt like a princess, your own skirt flaring out as you spun around the ballroom with the love of your life.

The dance ended, Eris pulling you in for a deep kiss as the crowd again clapped for you. The adrenaline from the performance was coursing through your veins, and you hadn’t registered your surroundings until you felt the cool breeze of night air against your skin. Standing with Eris on the balcony, you smiled so hard your face hurt as you pulled him in for a passionate kiss. “This was the best night of my life. Better than any of my dreams,” you whispered, tucking a strand of fiery red hair behind Eris’s ear.

“The night isn’t over yet,” Eris said, a mischievous hint in his tone as he let you go, walking back to take a paper lantern from the staff. You looked around the yard, realizing it must be nearly midnight as you took in the people scattered about with their own lanterns ready. The clock struck, clanging out as Eris lit your lantern with his flame, and you sent it up into the sky with the others.

You watched the lanterns float away in the night until they disappeared over the horizon, turning to Eris. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you felt his own settle over your back and you whispered, “so what now, my love?” Eris let out a dark chuckle. “After midnight is when the real debauchery begins.” With that, you were winnowed back to your bedroom, Eris looking at you with a deeply hungry expression, tilting your chin to look at him. “And you wouldn’t believe the debauched things I plan to do to you tonight, little vixen.”

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lustlovehart · 11 months ago

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Summary: [Angst] The balladeer watches as you receive an electro vision right in front of his eyes.

A/n: I love him, but felt like he should be sad on his birthday tbh <3. (The bonus is a bit happier though so enjoy that all you want.)

Warnings: Mostly pure angst, but some possessiveness in him, not to the point of being yandere though.

---

Your fingers tremble as you look at the man in front of you, his face typically adorning an expression of scorn a vast majority of the time. You’ve gotten use to the look, others feared it, you used to as well, but eventually time passed on and you’d grown accustomed to all sides of him, perhaps not all, only the ones he was willing to show you. However as you look at him now, the mask he wears on his breathtaking features, make you loose your breath.

He had no emotion, none that could be seen at least.

Your hands griped tighter onto the purple glass ball that had floated in front of you. You tried your best to stay composed but the stiffness of your joints had made it obvious.

"Kuni-"

He turns away, something he never does. You’ve never witnessed him not look at you, to the point of growing accustomed to his watching eyes. His body continues to get smaller and smaller as he walks further and further away from you. Unbeknownst to you, the puppet had turned his figure away in order for your eyes to not gaze upon his crumbling composure, the exact thing that led him to not be worthy in the eyes of god, no… the eyes of his mother.

No matter how hard he himself tried to deny it, he understood his feelings for you were the wretched thing called ‘love’, which is why he lets himself gaze at you with such an emotion in his hollowed chest. In fact, thats all he can feel when he’s around you. Yet as of this moment, he no longer knows how he should feel.

The scene of you, would typically make his heart race in way that seemed unhealthy for the regular being, yet, the image of you, holding the vision his mother had ruling over, struck a chord with him. He feels, grief. If he was still the way he was before he met you, he’s sure he would’ve ended you right where you stood, jealousy filling his veins full of unfiltered anguish at the thought of a mere mortal being chosen by Celestia as an potential candidate to ascending like his mother.

But, this is you, not some random stranger, not a random mortal beneath him. It was you who was chosen by a higher power.

You walk closer behind, even through his fake skin, he can feel the warmth of your very human body, transferring to his puppet one. But even with the fluttering feeling you gave him, he could not help the words dripping with venom spill from his lips.

"Give it up. Do you believe your grandiose belief of ambition reached the heavens? Do not forget, I am the only one you truly need in this cruel world."

In your eyes he can clearly tell the shock you held for his sudden change in deamonur. A complete 180 to the way he was just prior moments ago.

"What...?"

"Did you not hear me the first time? You dont need that so called 'blessing', for you already have me, its foolish to believe you need anything other than me. Am I not capable enough? Am I...." his words seem to catch themself in his throat, like he was holding back as to not further embarrass himself, yet the words make it out in the end.

"Am I not enough for you too...?" His hues dont make contact with, almost as if he was the young puppet he once was again.

You only stare at him, not understanding the underlying message of his words. The silence was deafening, yet as it continued, he could only sigh before walking away.

"At least be with me, [Name], even if you were the one who's worthiness was recognized, I want you to still care for me the way no one else had stayed." His words faded away with the wind though quiet, they were still there.

[Bonus]

In the dead of night, your eyes are trained on the dim candlelight in the room. Despite its unsure flame, it still stayed lit as it wavered. Similar to the man who laid beside you.

You couldnt remember his words anymore, but even then you doubt youd understand the context. His arms are tightly wrapped around you waist as you laid still, despite his unique trait of not needing to breathe, it still felt as if he was inhaling you as much as he could.

"Kuni, just what did you mean by 'too'...?" Despite your words being barely a whisper, it seems his mechanical ears still heard what you had said.

"That doesnt really matter anymore. All that matters is that you dont become the forth of it all."

"What does that even mean... I swear you need to start making sense for once..."

---

This was made while I was like half asleep during class, so if it isnt too good please dont blame me you guys.

#genshin x reader #scaramouche angst #scaramouche x reader #wanderer angst #wanderer x reader #genshin angst #genshin impact x reader #vesperwrites

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liiizzard · 9 days ago

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my soul has your claim, my soul is in flames by queen-of-voltronian (tellymauve)

wow where do i begin. this was beautiful. there was a lot of action that was really well written. so much fucking pining oh my god. SLOWEST BURN GOD JUST KISS ALREADY !!! so many really fun moments the fucking abba scene. THE DANCING AT THE BALL RAAAAAAA. stupid fucking blind idiots ! lots and lots of emotions and hard emotional conversations ripping my little heart to pieces. i also LOVE when fanfic writers create their own alien races and planets with so much lore and detail and it was done so fantastically here.

essentially what i am saying is: big fan, one of my all time fave’s now for sure. if you haven’t you should definitely read it.

also there is some AMAZING fanart that has come from this fic

#i hope someday i get to experience love that deep #silly little gay people #voltron #klance #voltron legendary defender #lance mcclain #keith kogane #fanfic rec #fanfic review #klance fanfiction #slow burn #pining

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widevibratobitch · 1 year ago

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couldn’t make this shit up if i tried.

what the fuck dumas

#his last scene with fouquet... honestly the scene of all time #what do you mEAN he clawed at his chest and sprinkled his former bestie's stupid face with his own blood DUMAS #wHAT DO YOU MEAN 'CHALICES OF BLOOD' ALEX. ALEXANDRE. I NEED TO TALK TO YOU ASAP #anyway. he has SO many scenes across this book when he's being the most dramatic goth little bitch i couldnt possibly put them all here #the way he's constantly lurking in the shadows too #THAT SCENE WITH MARIE #and right after that when he interrupts fouquet's party.#‘and Aramis’s grave and thoughtful face appeared upon the threshold of the door #between the remains of two garlands of which the flame of a lamp had just burnt the thread that once united them’#<- this is NOT NORMAL dumas!#he's so incredibly hot and sexy for this #vdb gotta be my favourite of the trilogy. there's lots of useless bullshit. nobody really cares about all the court intrigues come on.#but aramis really gets to shine in all his sinister evil glory. he's the star of this book. he's the belle of the ball.#i am obsessed with his relationships with each of the other characters too. Athos obviously. 'grant me your forgiveness' are you kidding me #Porthos. 'my jupiter' fuck off #D'ARTAGNAN. each one of their interactions is INSANE.#Fouquet. i mean. come on. we dont talk nearly enough of whatever the fuck Fouquet and Aramis had going on. remember when he kissed his hand #MARIE! literally one scene together and it's the highlight of the book.#this is the woman he was ready to renounce the world over when she ghosted him in t3M. he was obsessed with her. she had him on a leash.#she def pegged him too btw. if you even care. and now? a she-wolf. a basilisk. 'croak on old owl. hiss beldame viper'#(remember who else called his ex gf a viper in t3M? remember 'now that I have drawn your teeth viper - bite if you can’? yeah)#also she wants him dead. she wants his head on a silver platter. she used to be the love of his life and she has a kid with his best friend #(or. ANOTHER love of his life. the ACTUAL love of his life if you ask me but shhh)#and she wants him dead. im obsessed with them fr #oh and dont even get me started on Philippe. i feel like screaming fr. ‘be my father!’#‘Aramis was almost overcome as he listened to his voice. he fancied he detected in his own heart an emotion hitherto unknown.#but this impression was speedily removed’#'his father. yes. his holy father' THAT IS FUCKED UP! YOU ARE FUCKED UP!#anyway. cheers to whoever reads all this o7 #the three musketeers

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kxxkiecxre · 1 year ago

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・❥・SHOOT! || JEON JUNGKOOK ・❥・

Pairing: Jungkook x fem!reader.

Series: like a moth to a flame.

Summary: there’s never really a guide book on how to keep two important people in your life happy at the same time. Is there?

Warnings: sad, break ups, disloyalty, cancer diagnosis, idk? Just not a very happy chapter tbh. Stick with me though! Short chapter!

PREVIOUSLY… NEXT…

“I just don’t think the best way to tell her is by throwing her surprise party like she’s finding out the gender of her unborn child.” You sighed, going back to suck on the straw of your empty milkshake.

Jungkook swapped his Oreo milkshake for your empty kinder bueno one. He’s noticed when you’re super stressed or anxious you generally snack away on sugar mindlessly. Not that it’s a bad thing or something, he just finds it endearing.

“Maybe we can just not tell her…” you suggest, gulping down the Oreo milkshake like it’s your mission.

“So she can later bury us alive when she finds out?” He cringes.

Yeji would never. She’s too kind hearted to ever hurt anybody in any type of way and if her emotions do take a toll on her, she’s never the one to not apologise about it if she was in the wrong. Yeji is too smart. Too compassionate and sincere. It’d be silly to think she’d ever dehumanise you for dating her brother.

“Do you think she’ll be disgusted with me for dating her stinky brother?”

“How am I ‘stinky’” he pouts.

“Babe, you leave all your clothes everywhere, whether they’re fresh or not. I keep finding your socks all over my apartment, not to mention you like to just change outfits within seconds. Like I iron your decided outfit and make sure it looks perfect and then you’re all like ‘mmm no, the whites too muted” you rolled your eyes groaning.

His mouth opened in surprise. Doe eyes looking scandalised, “that’s only because you also change your outfit ideas last second! ‘Oh the glitter reflects different in this dress than on my shoes.”

It wasn’t exactly what you had in mind. The fight between Jungkook and Yeji was starting to escalate and you didn’t exactly know how to stop it or help. So you stood in the corner, balling up and trying your hardest not to crumble because you knew. You knew now more than ever. If she doesn’t agree to this, if she finds it weird or odd or whatever. There’s no way you can keep this going. Even if you love him more than yourself. Yeji is your best friend and even if technically you don’t need her blessing to date Jungkook, it’s morally wrong. You’ve sworn to her since childhood that you’d never date her brother.

“Why am I not allowed to be with someone that makes me happy!” Jungkook yelled.

“Because,” she would yell back an octave higher and suddenly it felt like you were a small kid and your parents were arguing all over again “because she is my person. She’s the one I befriended before you. Because she’s the only thing I have aside from you. I can’t let this happen. If you break up and I have to choose sides it’ll be the end for me. I won’t have you, I won’t have her. I won’t have anyone. Jungkook please,” she practically sobbed

“I’ve never said this before because I always hated it, but kook. Please. I have given you everything I had through out our life. I protected you. I loved you. I was there for you when our parents weren’t there for us. I gave you a piece of myself day by day, night by night because you are the only thing I had in life because I love you. I’m younger and I have surrounded my life around you. You were my hero, not dad, not mom, you. You were the man I loved first, ever. You were the man I wrote about in class. The man I imagined had a cape when I was growing up and was my hero,” you stood in the corner, crying silently, head down not able to even glance at yeji.

“Jungkook please.”

It was silent. All the tension, all the life sucking energy was hung in the hair as if it was a hair strand away from breaking into absolute chaos. You’ve realised then, that both of them stared at you. Jungkook had some sort of hope in his eyes, but he looked like he was two seconds away from throwing up too. Yeji was a sobbing mess. And it finally sank in. Nothing would ever go back to anything it ever was before. Ever. Not with yeji, not with Jungkook.

You licked your drying lips and bit onto the lower one, fiddling with the keys in your hands, looking at your feet before you realised it was hopelessly. You’d end up hurting either one of them in the end. The only thing you could do was remove yourself completely. Away from yeji and away from Jungkook. They’re more likely to forgive each other and yeji would definitely find friends. It was a losing fight for you any choice you made and if you knew you could at least give them a shot to fix their relationship, you’d hurt yourself just to keep both of them happy. They’d mend their hurt.

From the beginning this was destined for failure. From the petty fight with Jungkook to the sex to finally falling in love with him. It was all just building up to this. The fights that put a strain on your friendship with yeji, the sneaking around, the dishonesty. There was no going back at this point. You couldn’t fix it anymore. You were being selfish the minute you reciprocated the kiss with Jungkook that very night. It was all just going to go down the drain and you knew it was. That’s the thing. Yet you did because you couldn’t help how amazing it felt. To love Jungkook, to have him with you. Exactly, where it brings you now.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, “I can’t do this.”

You left the apartment in a rush, wiping your tears and hoping this pain would subside. Hoping you’d ever forgive yourself. The way both their faces dropped, the hurt and despair in Jungkooks eyes. Yejis eyes widening and jaw dropping as if someone just stabbed her in the guts. It had you so nausea you were seconds away from throwing up. The second the elevator opened you dashed outside, not so gracefully throwing up beside the door. Not that there’s any graceful way of throwing up.

Walking through the rain had all the memories rushing through you. From the first fight, where you couldn’t even look Jungkook in the eye, to the sex, to the moment you finally felt the love for him, to the fight when you were away to now. It was painful. This walk happened more than you’d ever liked for it to happen. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to choose. You just couldn’t. Because you loved Yeji, from growing up with her and matching outfits to school with little pigtails and matching clips, to starting high school together and walking in with your hands clasped together like two toddlers. To entering college. From heart breaks to success.

But you also loved Jungkook. He was always in the background of whatever you and Yeji did, he was always there to support and lift you when you fell down. He’s always loved you in no way any other man could ever. You knew that. Even when you didn’t pay attention to him. Even when you’d tease and ignore him. He always loved you. He was always there to protect you. It was breaking your heart bit by bit. You knew he was the man you saw a future with. The man you saw buying your first house with and having his kids. He was your universe. Your future. But you couldn’t do this to Yeji.

What is the point of being with him if you’d put a strain between yourself and yeji? If you took away his sister from him. She swore she’d never, ever speak to him again if you did continue dating each other and that was enough to prove to you that you never wanted to hurt any of them the way you knew it would if you decided in the moment that you chose Jungkook. Because even if you fought for both of them, it would have never been the same. At least now, you could still remain at least friendly with both of them without hurting them any further, or more painfully.

You didn’t want to be cruel. And maybe you were by the way you left. But you wouldn’t ever forgive yourself if you sabotaged their relationship for yours. So you decided to screw yourself up.

Sometimes, that just the way life is.

You finally agreed to have coffee with Jungkook. Just a simple coffee and nothing more. Even though it’s been two months, the tension is still high with Yeji. She hasn’t spoken much to Jungkook aside from the odd little conversation. Jungkook would come over plenty of times, to check up on her, and each time he’d come over, she’d be curled up on the couch, with the same dull expression in her face.

“you were the one who screwed this up Jungkook. The second you decided to fuck my best friend.” She’d always remind him.

It was the bitter truth, though. Because he is the reason why Yeji doesn’t smile as often anymore, or isn’t her bubbly self anymore. She always alone, aside from when Jungkook comes to her place and stays with her for a few nights, she has no one else. She always had you and that was enough for her. He’s screwed it up though. Big time. He fell in love with someone who was meant to be off limits. Someone his sister loved even more.

You sit across him with an odd expression. He has always been able to at least guess what you were thinking, today however, he can’t. Your eyes looked stoic. Empty. You showed no form of emotion on your face. You just sat with your legs crossed over the other and your hands mimicked your legs, loosely hanging of the edges. You were dressed smart, white dress pants and a white jacket with gold little buttons, a white button up underneath and white pumps. You were practically like a statue in front of him, a gorgeous one though.

Even in the state that you were, pale, dark circles under your eyes and void of any kind of emotion, you still managed to be the most beautiful woman in the room.

He swallow rather uncomfortably, his Adam’s apple bopping with the action. He looked nervous, his leg kept bouncing and his eyes were were everywhere but you. He’d look at you for a split second and then focus his gaze elsewhere. It wasn’t fun watching struggle like this.

He didn’t look bad. His skin was tanned and glowing, he must of gotten a haircut recently, perhaps an undercut? He was dressed like the usual him, baggy clothes. Comfortable. He still managed to look mesmerising and you were kicking yourself for even thinking like that, for letting your heart skip a beat any time you’d catch his gaze. For letting your skin form goosebumps every time you’d get a whiff of his scent reminding you of where you felt the safest. Most of all hating yourself because you came here to ask about Yeji. Not simp over the man that never leaves your head. The one singular man that has your heart breaking every day even more.

It was sick. What love can do to someone. It can test every single nerve in one’s body, it can fuck with your brain and make you into a robot rather than a human. It was nauseating what love can do to a human body. Sure it feels nice in the moment, but once that breaking point comes, your body crashes. It hates the pain, despises the feeling of your chest crushing and squeezing your heart like it was a poor man who owed money to the mafia. Like it was the victim of the school bullies, kicked and beaten for what? For a few moments of happiness?

Yet if you had the option to click a magic button and let yourself relive the happy moments, you would. You’d abuse it. Because the euphoric feeling was addicting. It felt better than sex, it felt better than a cup of hot chocolate during a winter storm, better than any sort of reward. It was essentially like crack. It’d slowly take every ounce of the best of you, and turn everything you once adored into pain.

“How are you?” His voice was small, like a scared child testing the waters.

You blinked, your expressionless face never broke character.

“I’m okay,” you replied in a more confident voice, “how are you?”

Jungkook looked down at the table, picking at the skin around his nails. His hand brushed around the nape of his neck, awkwardly.

“I’m,” his tongue poked his cheek, “I’m trying my best.”

“How’s yej-“

“I’m worried about yeji”

Your eyebrows shot up. Everything around you seemed to freeze in place and finally, the heart you have been protecting so much from breaking any further shattered all over again. You kept calm despite the fact that tears sprung to your eyes almost immediately. It was single handedly the worst thing he could have told you. It was something you thought you prepared yourself for, but nothing can ever prepare you for the pain of your loved ones suffering.

“She doesn’t have anyone other than me. Even then she doesn’t talk to me aside asking me what I’d like to eat or drink. She has no friends. She hasn’t smiled ever since that day, she’s lost a lot of weight too. I don’t know.. I don’t know how to help her Y/N.” His voice began breaking and your heart was ready to make its way out your throat and runaway on tiny little legs screaming for a break.

“Please help her.”

You closed your eyes, looking away from him.

“Okay.”

The look in her eyes had you terrified. She looked as if she was just one step away from breaking or perhaps shooting you. She stood across the room from you with the angriest and sharpest look you have ever seen on her. She was like a lioness ready to pounce to protect her cubs and it scared you to death.

More than anything, she looked so fragile. So poorly. As if she was sick and it was making you anxious. Even weeks before the fight, she started looking sickly. She was a lot more tired than before, and coughing almost all the time. It made you wonder, if maybe she was, sick?

“Yeji?” You asked gently, “can I talk to you please?”

There was a beat of silence, “now? After you left me when I need you most? Now?” She yelled.

You bit onto your inner cheek, hanging your head in shame, “I still care about you. I’m so sorry. I love you so much and I regret ever leaving you. But I need you to talk to me.”

She began crying and it had you rushing to her, practically breaking your ankles as your grabbed her delicate body to yours, hugging her as tightly as you could. As if you could just put her in your heart and keep her forever safe. She gripped onto your jacket, sobbing into your shoulder as you ran your hand through her head. Hugging her closer to your body.

Her entire body was shaking as you held her, your heart was aching as you sat on the couch. Jungkook stood at the kitchen island, biting his lips as he watched the two of you. Hating himself for doing all this to both of you because he was so selfish about you.

“Don’t freak out please,” she began, licking her chapped lips, “I have cancer,”

Jungkook stilled, his body raised in goosebumps everything he’s ever loved, everything he’s ever protected her from, all of the worrying about her, the one thing no one can protect another from, happened. And it was like someone pulled the rug beneath his legs. He could barely breathe.

“I- I had cancer?,” she questioned, “I, um, I had surgery, a small one, to remove the tumour, it was the mole on my back, they removed it successfully. I just need a few rounds of chemo to make sure the cells are all gone and have my bloods done every couple weeks to check my marks.”

“Yeji…” your bottom lip trembled, “why didn’t you tell me before?.”

She sighed, sniffling, picking at the pillow between both of you, “because,” she shrugged, “you weren’t here much. You were away for Jungkook’s fight, and the surgery date was set on the day. I thought I could tell you when you’d come back. But then all that happened.”

“That doesn’t matter, Yeji. You are the most important to me. I would’ve dropped everything for you.”

“That’s exactly why,” she smiled sadly, “I didn’t want to stop anyone’s life for me. After all I’m fine. It wasn’t anything serious.”

You held her hand, kissing it as you leaned her into your chest. Holding her, “you’re so strong yeji. You’re the strongest woman I know.”

Jungkook sat on the other side of his sister, leaning onto her and holding her just as tightly as you held her, “I’m so sorry.”

“Guys I’m okay I promise.”

No matter what she’d tell you. You’d forever blame yourself for leaving her lonely during all this. The fact she had to be alone during the hardest days of her life was unfair. You were truly a bad friend and you wish you could go back and look at the signs. They were all there. Yet you didn’t even pay enough attention to realise it.

“I still can’t believe you touched my brother.” She fake gagged, making you chuckle.

“He’s not all that anyway.”

A/N: sorry?

MASTERLIST

any copying of my work is strictly prohibited. E.G : recreational work, translation or copying.

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ceasarslegion · 7 months ago

Note

wait, now im really interested in the silica gel drama. how did hlrp sex ed lead to eating a gel packet?

This is going to require a novel's length of context.

To begin, I want to underline that this is not meant to be a callout post, and I will not be providing any identifying traits that could be used to single this person out. The most you will get out of that are she/her pronouns, and her age at the time this happened, which was years ago, and I will not specify what year. I genuinely do hope she got the help she needed after this, because LORD knows she needs it and didn't find it at home. This is also not meant to be a character assassination, nor should anybody who reads this post consider it to be a takedown of any sort, and if you try to find this person through me or any of our mutual friends, you will not be met with kind words. The only thing this is meant to be is a wild-ass story of some of the most off the wall experiences I personally had with this person from my specific side of the story, with a few no-username screenshots attached to prove I am not bullshitting you.

With that in mind, let's get started. This is going to be very long, so I'm throwing in a read more

Back when I was in uni, I joined a growing group of Half Life roleplay blogs. The whole idea of our group was that we each chose a character, canon or OC, and we would blog as if the pre-Black Mesa incident moment in the timeline was a workplace comedy a la The Office or Superstore. I played Barney, because I was already working night shift security at this point and thought it would be funny. Plus, it gave me something to do that wasn't staring at CCTV feeds all night tossing a ball against the wall. We played off of each other very well, yes-anding our way through funny little situations and plotlines we put together. At one point we had roleplayed enough that one of the scientist rpers created a discord server for us to talk as the actual people we are instead of through characters.

Great idea at the time. None of us saw the "Pandora's box" label on the tin before we opened it. Would I still join it if I knew what was about to transpire? Yes, because I met my boyfriend and many genuinely lovely friends through it. Would I hesitate for a second first, though, as the events that are about to transpire flashed before my eyes? Oh, abso-fucking-lutely.

We started off as many fandom servers do: chill for the most part, very loud minority of a few assholes who ruined it for the rest of us, but unlike most fandom servers, we actually won and it ended in them getting banned and the server itself surviving to this day. But the other two lunatics are not who you came here for. You want the christian lunatic.

Let's give her a nickname to make this easier. I have the Sylveon build a bear on my PC desk. Let's call her Syl.

Syl was not there for Half Life, she was there for Portal. She LOVED Portal, Half Life was just part of the same universe for her. Portal wasn't just a game for her, it was her entire personality. Which I didn't see much of an issue with at the time, because she said she was 15. Whatever, I thought; she'll learn to control her emotional attachment to things as she gets older. Syl also said that she was christian. I am a flaming atheist who doesn't even believe in the concept of a soul in comparison and I am NOT the biggest fan of christianity as an institution to put it mildly, but I'm not gonna like, be a dick to you for your personal religion if you are not a dick about my beliefs, so I didn't think much of it at the time.

It quickly became apparent that Syl looked up to me more than any of the other adults in the group the more I would talk about my life growing up as a third culture kid and moving out on my own at 19, working 2 jobs and going to a good university. She would ask me a lot about growing up and uni and moving out and yes, sex ed, and it became even more apparent that she didn't get any actual guidance from her parents or pastors or ANYBODY beyond bible studies and homeschooling, so I kinda stumbled into a mentorship role in her life. I wasn't cold, but I was aware of the age and maturity difference between us and established the appropriate boundaries with her and made it very clear that I am an internet friend, not an irl friend or an educator, but if no one else was going to give her information that wasn't actively harmful then fuck, I guess SOMEONE had to do it. I could not in good conscience watch some kid go through life with harmful inaccuracies about the world and basic human biology when I could have done something about it, y'know?

And the more things I taught her about the real world and how things actually work rather than how her republican bible-thumping rural town said they did, the more I realized she was born into a full-blown cult under the guise of a christian congregation. Oh goody, I had my work cut out for me. I will not get into the details of how messed up this group was because it will be a dead giveaway of where she lives and potentially who she is, but let's just say that one time I said that I appreciated the gesture of praying for me during a stressful week I was having but it didn't really do anything for my mental health because I was an atheist, and she sent me a bunch of bible verses begging me to start believing and said "I just don't want you to go to hell because you're so nice :((" EXCUSE ME??? Another time she said that death was only sad for non-christians because their loved ones were in hell and that proper christians deaths were a good thing because they were in heaven now. Hi, that's the most insensitive death cult shit I've ever heard in my goddamn life.

Okay, set up is done. All of these details will tie in like the world's worst reboot of Pulp Fiction, I prommy.

After a good long while learning about the world from me (which like... a uni kid working night shift security is not exactly an academic source but we take what we can get) and exposure to viewpoints outside of her in-group, Syl began that very painful journey of realizing that what the cult taught you was a lie. Except that she just wasn't grasping that unlearning things was an active process. She started to flip to the opposite side very quickly, but kept all the fundamental brainwashing of the cult that raised her. The concepts were all the same, just slapped a different label on them. This created a noticeable pull between two sides of the same personality: the cult personality, and the person beyond the cult who wanted to break free. Mix that with how fucking 15 years old every 15 year old is, and you have a LETHAL concoction just waiting to blow up at the first sign of a spark.

Remember how I said that Portal was her whole personality? Syl decided that she wanted to be a scientist, and go into an ivy league program like I was in (I was in a SOCIAL science, but sure). Problem was, she didn't have the grades or the ambition, really. I had told her that I still got into an ivy league when I failed math in high school, and she seemed to completely miss the part where I said that I also joined every extra-curricular, then worked for 2 gap years for recognized institutions, and wrote an essay about why my math grade is not relevant to my program. I did it with one bad grade, so she was justified in basically just slacking off and then excusing it with "but its haaarrrdd" when we'd tell her she needs to put the fucking work in NOW if that's what she wants to do.

It quickly derailed from here. Not only was she going to be a scientist, she was going to be like Cave Johnson. And she was going to... replace her body with robot parts so she could be like glados. I don't... think she actually knew what science is, because she would just publically fantasize about running unethical experiments on people in the name of "science," and talk about how one day she wants to basically establish aperture labs for real. All of us who were there kind of agree that we don't think she was joking based on what we knew about her and the cadence of her tone. Here's something she said at the time to give you an idea of what direction she was nosediving in:

This was after a session with her therapist where said therapist said that she definitely has some kind of personality disorder, after which she was weirdly proud of having one and treated it like a badge of honour.

Syl then made a separate group chat for all the best friends she made on the server. There was her, me, @false-pyre, and @imtheaura. She titled it "My Family," despite the fact that we were all adults and she was 15 and she only knew us over a discord half life server where one person in it stepped up to somewhat equip her for real life outside of a cult. Regardless though that GC was more the vibe of a group of friends sharing memes and chatting about the day than the wider server was at the time. The others began to also take on a sort of mentorship role towards her as well, because that's kind of inevitable when you get someone talking about teenager problems in a room full of adults who all made the same mistakes before in their own lives. Well, minus the cult.

And remember how I said that she didn't unlearn any of the cult shit? Well, there was a lot of proselytizing. She decided she wasn't christian for a spell, but still wanted us and everyone to know that jesus was the lord and savior and we had to accept him or we'd burn in hell. Usually said after we'd make some joke about satan being daddy or declaring ourselves god instead, because that is just the type of humor the others and i have with each other. She took it so personally whenever one of us would go "oh my god" "you called?" it was fucking annoying. I lost count of the amount of lectures she gave us, all of which I'd shut down and tell her to get a grip about because I have a big stupid mouth.

The others and I also like to talk about evolution, and speculate about where we're going from here. My fucking god, did she not like that. She bit our heads off about how evolution isn't real and god made everyone as we are and there's no scientific evidence or whatever the hell. Like yeah good luck getting into STEM with that mindset. Whenever we pointed out that she was objectively wrong about that, she'd have a big stupid meltdown about how much we're slandering god and how jesus died for us and we're spitting in his face or whatever. He should spit in MY face inste-*GUNSHOT*

Eventually, we were making some actual progress with her. She was still one fry short of a happy meal and going off about how much she wanted to put living subjects in test tubes in between knocking on our doors and reciting Hello from the Book of Mormon musical, but we were getting somewhere. And then she went back to in person school, and her favourite teacher got fired.

The schoolboard did not say why she got fired, but we all had our suspicions that it was because she openly supported queer rights in a cult town. She was coincidentally retired shortly after making a declaration that queer people are still welcome in god's kingdom. This teacher was the first in person adult Syl had for guidance, so that incident shook her to her core, and she fell right back into the extremism. Hook, line, and sinker, even more extreme than before.

She was WEIRD that week, man. Suddenly everything was about how great god was, how amazing jesus was. Suddenly she understood why her cult member parents "just wanted to protect her" from gay characters on disney+ originals. Suddenly no one could say "jesus christ lol" around her or she'd have a fit. I said "I hate cycle counts lmao i wanna kms" because my then-job (I had graduated at this point) made me do inventory management spontaneously and wouldn't let me go home until I had counted every product in the store, and she bit my head off accusing me of turning suicide into a joke.

It was that incident that made us tell her to knock it off already, that we understood it was a hard week for her and she was in a period of grief, but that is no excuse for how she had been acting towards everyone around her that wasnt christian, and that she was actively relapsing. I'll let the exchange speak for itself:

So uh. After years of helping Syl through this she goes and pulls this bullshit. And then has the fucking AUDACITY to act like nothing ever happened in the wider server. I am genuinely gobsmacked by the balls on her to act like it was all sunshine and rainbows in the wider server after sending this and immediately leaving the same GC SHE made and titled "My Family" just because we told her to stop acting like a goddamn Jonestown citizen after all the work we'd put in to get her out of that mentality at this point.

So I dragged her up in front of everyone and essentially said "no, nuh uh, you don't get to say that shit to the people who have lost sleep and asked for nothing in return trying to help you escape a cult over the last 2 years and then act like we're all buddy buddy to everybody else. You don't get to be that arrogant and self-righteous without any consequences. I don't give a fuck how young you are, you DON'T treat the people who have helped you this much like that, you selfish little shit. How dare you treat us like this after all we've done for you over the years."

Unfortunately, no one involved had surviving screenshots of this, but they can back me up on it if they so choose. And oh boy, DID she face the consequences of her own actions. The whole server basically turned their heads and went "what the FUCK is wrong with you, Syl??" and asked her to at least like, apologize. She proceeded to double down with the added audacity of "you guys taught me how to establish healthy boundaries, that's all I'm doing right now :(( oh woe is me :(((" like WOW, okay. Someone's really going for the persecution complex.

Here's her last goodbye to us all before the mass block fest occured:

Oh, boohoo. You're so hard done by. You spat in the faces of everyone who stayed up all night multiple times helping you through crises and spent the last 2 years teaching you about how the world really worked and then they asked you to apologize after you tried to escape accountability. You truly are god's strongest soldier, the most persecuted minority in the world. Let me play you an ode to how righteous and holy you are and how this was the most important hill to sacrifice all your outsider friendships on on the world's smallest violin.

Syl then went on to post on her roleplay blog that she "was banned because I spoke up for what was right, and they didn't like that" before deleting it. Truly no one has suffered as much as you.

Anyway, the day after that went down, I called in from work, bought this book, and read the whole thing purely out of spite:

It was greatly therapeutic. After that incident, I vowed to never sanitize my own atheistic beliefs for the benefit of others again. If they don't like them, they don't have to talk to me. But I am not changing them for other people or keeping them quiet just to spare your feelings anymore, I have as much a right to my beliefs as anyone else does, including the world's most persecuted minority here.

And well, the silica gel incident?

There was one incident, during the height of Syl's "I am the irl cave johnson and only want to get into STEM to conduct unethical experiments on people. follow jesus" era, the rest of us were joking about how silica gel packets are the ultimate forbidden snack, and said "haha would eating it make you see shrimp colours" knowing full well it can kill you.

Syl proceeded to actually eat a silica gel packet and then send in "it has a sandy texture and tastes bad" prompting the rest of us to go "WE WERE FUCKING JOKING FIND YOUR POISON CONTROL HOTLINE RIGHT NOW"

And because i didnt get this done until now, I'll tag everyone who said they wanted to read this or expressed interest: @captainjonnitkessler @formydarlingtoread @cra-zwizard @chasingnightrainbows

#ramblings #what do i even tag this

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whorediaries-09 · 5 months ago

Text

can't wait 'til the drought is over;

pairing- sirius black x reader warning(s)- hurt/comfort, mentions of drugging. a/n- hopefully the ending does not disappoint!

prequel masterlist series masterlist little train.

the lotion is hot and humid on your skin. sweat crawls on your forearm, the skull burnt on your skin throbbing with pain. his fingers are cold and numb. a quiet solace in the dark room. his eyes are like stars against the contrast of the darkness.

'sirius,' you say, the name familiar on your tongue. his ears perk up at his name falling from your lips, the sound almost forgotten by his brain.

'yes?' he asks. you're full of fear. you're afraid that he cares for you so much, even after he watched you kill a man. you wonder if its a ploy. you wonder if he'll report you. but you're too tired from your thoughts. you're too tired of running, too tired of being chased.

for once, you want to believe it's a blessing in disguise.

'will you report me to the authorities?' he unwrapped his fingers from you, removing his cold touch from your hot skin. his upper lip quivered.

'all this time you've known me...and you think i'm going to report you? bullshit!' there it is again. the rage, the false accusations. you feel anger pour inside of you, as you get furious at the only person who helped you keep your calm.

'known you? i never knew you. don't you fucking lie!' he knitted his eyebrows together. he felt his ears get warm with the rage that boiled inside of him, boiling to the edge.

'you're the one who's lying.' he said, silent intimidation in his voice.

'i am the one who's lying?' you got up from the bed, throwing off the sheets from your body. your vision dizzied, but you couldn't care less.

'I AM THE ONE WHO'S LYING? ALL THOSE YEARS AGO, YOU LEFT ME. YOU DECIDED TO GO AND FUCK IT UP BY TALKING BULLSHIT ABOUT LOVING ME AND THEN GETTING IT ON WITH THAT WOMAN. I, SIRIUS, TO YOU AM ALWAYS THE OTHER WOMAN.'

and god it felt good to let it off your chest. all those years you'd spent those sleepless nights, looking for answers, looking for closure. all those years, you'd spent those years trying to fight your demons. all those years, you'd spent, trying to search for the flame of warmth that sirius lit within you.

it was finally tearing down, as he stared at your anguished form. you watched tears fill up his eyes.

'I DIDN'T WANT TO LEAVE! YOU FORCED ME TO LEAVE. AND DON'T BE SUCH A PATHETIC LIER, I NEVER GOT WITH NO WOMAN AFTER BEING FREED EXCEPT YOU!'

'please,' you begged, pathetically. you shook, years of suppressed emotions finally catching up to you. 'don't lie. it was the night of 14th august, at 7:28pm. i saw you crystal clear with the woman.' you curled your fingers, balling your palm into a fist. disgust churned in your stomach, putrid hatred running through your intestines.

the memories flashed in your brain like a film.

this film, you'd seen before. and you didn't like the ending.

'we'd planned a date on 14th of august. i'd asked you out, but you never came. i s'pposed you got stuck with some extra work. by the time i wanted to leave and go check on you, i'd already been caught up by the woman you're talking about. i don't remember her name, but i do know that i'd been drugged by her. because i ended up in the hospital a few hours after.'

the silent was deafening.

'what? i- i never knew-'

'of course you didn't. then i came up to check on you and i saw that you would've been killed by lucius. i saved you, and there you were shouting at me, giving me no chance to explain myself.'

'you never contacted me afterwards-'

'i thought of calling you. write you letters. but i knew you wouldn't respond. a few years later dumbledore comes bearing with the news that you were in great trouble, and i could think of nothing but you. i wanted to do nothing but prove myself and signed myself up for the mission of saving you. it was a job to be done by one, too many people would've messed up. and i saw you, on the verge of fighting death, i couldn't bear it. i couldn't bear the thought of losing you again.'

'i'm sorry.' he got up from the bed, tucking his finger under your jaw.

'i realize now, how much i love you. how much the thought of losing you terrifies me. how much i hate the fact that i love you because you want nothing to do with me. because i love you and it has ruined my life.'

he nudged his forehead against yours, warm breath falling on your lips.

'let this night be ours,' he begged. you cradled his face.

'it was always ours.' the hot salty tear fell on your cheek.

'i think i never wanted to accept it, because it was terrifying, the thought of loving someone. but i don't think i can escape it anymore. i never stopped loving you. i don't think i was never not yours.'

his nose budged against yours.

'say it.'

'i love you, sirius.'

his lips met yours. softly and ecstatically, his tongue slipped into your mouth as he kissed you harsh. harsh with the dull pain of separating. harsh with the dull pain of loving you. harsh pain of the paradox.

and even if the both of you were too close too the stars, you'd fall. fall again.

because when the sky fell, you'd face it all together.

running away from the ruins of loving each other.

****************************************

original idea posted by - @lilwnet

taglist - @reggieisfit @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @jamespottergf @eternallybipanicking @fictional-magic @iamgayforyourmom1510

taglist (for series) - @urbansaint

(if you want to be tagged please send a request through my inbox.)

****************************************

#harry potter fanfiction #marauders #harry potter #sirius black #sirius x reader #sirius black smut #the marauders #sirius black x reader #marauders era #sirius black imagine #sirius black thoughts #sirius black x oc #sirius black fanfiction #hp marauders #the marauders era

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dreaming-medium · 1 year ago

Text

Animals Without Direction

Chapter Twelve - Rest

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Masterlist

The night before the battle left you with nothing but a vibrating ball of emotion. A large camp was set up on the Miron side of the Amvista river hidden among the thick and tall trees of the woods. Only a few fires were lit to make certain that Erbus did not see any signs of life.

The moon has been in the sky for about five hours at this point, leaving it a little after midnight.

Jeongin bid you a good night about two hours ago, leaving you by yourself in front of the campfire. Despite its warmth, you still find yourself shaking, and you’re not sure it's from the chill in the air.

Tomorrow everything will change.

Elves have been considered outlaws in Erbus for close to thirty five years, and finally, tomorrow, action will happen.

Thoughts of your mother and father float around your head. If they could see where you were now, you’re not sure how they would react. First and foremost, they would just want you to be safe; that’s all they ever wanted.

You found safety in Miroh.

It wasn’t until recently that you realized that you never felt as though you needed to have eyes on the back of your head while walking through the Keep. There was never that tingling of danger in the back of your mind to watch your back.

“A soldier up late on the eve of battle?” a smooth voice comes from behind you.

Tearing your exhausted gaze from the fire, you look up at Hyunjin. His sharp eyes are looking at you closely, scanning all over your face.

You hum and look away from him back to the dancing flames.

“Someone needs to watch the camp.”

“There are soldiers on guard around the entire perimeter. Worry not, mercenary, get some rest. You appear as though you desperately need it.”

Your jaw clenches and your body shrinks in on itself a little. Your shoulders slump forward and chin dips down towards your chest. You’ve avoided mirrors purposefully for at least a week.

“If it makes you feel any safer, you can rest your head in my tent for the night.” Hyunjin adds.

You perk up a bit, a tent means warmth. The last few nights you either spent sitting on a log in front of the fire or curled up on your side in your bedroll, aching for warmth.

Winter was only a month away and this year it felt like it was coming early. Frost clung to the grass well after sunrise.

You pause, looking down at the dirt for a moment. “I would very much appreciate that.”

When you look up at Hyunjin again, he only smirks and jerks his head in another direction. “Come on then. Everyone will be waking up to march in only a few short hours.”

Quickly, you stand up from the log, grab your bedroll, and follow the mage. As soon as you walk away from the campfire, a wet coldness seeps into your bones. It feels like you jumped into a frozen lake before standing up.

Hyunjin leads you over to his small tent in the middle of camp. It’s nothing special but you know the canvas walls will keep you from frosting over with the foliage.

He ducks inside first and you follow him. His bedroll is already laid out with a small lantern and book next to it.

The wall of warmth that hits you curls around your body like a blanket. An immediate sigh of relief leaves your lips. The heat is such a welcomed contrast compared to your frigid skin, it almost makes your joints ache from the extreme difference.

Hyunjin walks over and slides his bedroll to the side to give you some room. With your two sleeping bags side by side, there is basically no more room inside the tent.

“Have you been sleeping outside these past few nights?” he asks as he watches you set up your sleeping space.

“More or less.”

“Pardon?”

“I am not really able to sleep much these days.” you admit, not looking over at him. He sat down on top of his bedroll, long legs stretched out in front of him.

“Is there a reason for this?” he prods more.

You think for a moment before shaking your head. “Nay,” it comes out as a whisper. “If I am being plain with you, I cannot recall when I last was able to sleep for more than an hour without my eyes opening.”

The mage only watches you, his head cocked to the side.

You continue, “Perhaps it is the idea of war that is keeping my brain awake. Since Jisung’s return to Miroh and the Jarl’s official declaration of war my mind has not known rest.”

While talking, you open your bedroll and slink inside, letting the warmth envelope you in a fabric embrace. The inside was coated with sheep’s wool.

Back in Erbus you had it commissioned when you had gotten a lucky break and raked in more gold than usual one month. It was large and cozy, its weight on top of your body was comforting and familiar.

Hyunjin turns a knob on the lantern and the flame inside goes out.

You stare up at the top of the tent. “I do fear that my exhaustion will affect my abilities tomorrow.” The last confession comes out a bit quieter than your previous words. “But no matter how hard I try, I cannot rest. I believe it may be driving me mad.” you let out a gentle laugh with the last bit.

Hyunjin stared at you for a long moment, watching you get settled in your bedroll. He cocked his head from side to side, as if weighing something in his head.

Finally, he lets out a sigh.

“Make room.” he says suddenly, crawling towards you.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Make room for me in your bedroll, mercenary.”

You looked at him as if he had three heads. Your eyebrows pulled together in a shocked manner, your mouth hanging open slightly.

“Did you hit your head again?”

Hyunjin scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Do you want to sleep or not?”

“And how exactly would me letting you in my bedroll make me sleep?”

He lifts an eyebrow and smirks down at you. “What sort of thoughts are you having?”

“What sort of thoughts are you having?” You repeat his question back at him, your voice raising.

“Hush.” He quiets you down and lifts the one corner of your bedroll. “Make room, Y/N.”

You yank the blanket back from him and scoot away from him a small distance, balking. “Explain yourself first!”

He reaches forward and drags you back towards him by the blankets, you clutch them closer to you. His hand grabs your wrist through your bedroll, the grip is tight, but not in a painful way.

“Will you please trust me, Y/N?” he asks. His voice took on a different tone. It’s softer, calmer, as if trying to soothe you.

He looks down at you with such a pleading look to his eyes, he genuinely wants to help you. You just wish you knew what his plan was.

You sit there for a few extra moments, staring at his face closely for any sign that he was pulling a stunt. “You truly are going to help me sleep?”

“Aye, you have my word, Y/N.” He places his fist over his chest.

You sigh, “Fine.” You lift the corner of your bedroll and scoot backwards, leaving him with plenty of room. “But by The Six, if you do anything I will-”

“I will not.” he says sternly.

Hyunjin nimbly crawls inside your bedroll; the bedroll that felt extremely roomy only a few moments ago now feels close, but not suffocating.

Maybe it’s because you’ve never had a second body inside of it.

His body heat immediately fills the fabric. The chill from outside is nowhere to be found inside this enclosed space, it’s like you have your own personal hearth right here in the tent.

The mage shuffles around, trying to get comfortable, he leans over and grabs his own pillow, stuffing it under his head and turning on his side to face your body.

How are you supposed to sleep? Your body is now on high alert, you’re aware of every single movement he’s making, every breath he’s taking.

You’re laying on your back, he’s shifting around to your right.

When he finally settles down, he speaks up. “Come here.”

Your head snaps over to look at the mage, he’s turned on his side and is fully looking at you. Again, your expression pulls into an incredulous stare. Before you can say some nonsense, he preemptively cuts you off.

“Y/N, just come here.”

You roll your eyes and hesitantly turn on your side to face him. Suddenly, he reaches one arm out and wraps it around your body, bringing you impossibly close to him. Both of your faces are centimeters away.

Your eyes widen.

Hyunjin’s hand slowly trails from your waist, up your side, over your shoulder until he finally cups the side of your face.

His fingers are so soft, you half-expected them to be calloused from battle and working primarily with fire. But the skin is so smooth and settles on your face nicely. His thumb swipes under your eye and along your cheekbone, his pinky and ring finger caressing your jawline.

In the darkness, you can see his lips part and his eyelids droop a bit.

For a few seconds longer, he stares at your face. Both of your eyes lock and your breath hitches. His deep red gaze is hard to break away from. It’s like he’s caught you in a trap. A dazzling, scarlet trap.

Then, you feel it, his hand begins to warm up even more. But it never turns hot, it only stays warm, like he held them over the fire for a minute. A slight tingle pricks at your skin where his fingers rest.

It’s not unpleasant in any way.

Slowly, his eyes close and his brow furrows only slightly in concentration.

“Relax.” Hyunjin whispers, the exhale fans over your own lips.

How are you supposed to relax when your exhales are mingling with one another? When you can practically feel his heartbeat as if it was your own?

You do not close your eyes, you continue to stare at his doll-like face unabashedly. Everything about him is absolutely perfect. There’s not a single blemish to be seen on his face, smooth, soft skin and silky hair.

He had it down loose for sleeping. The chunk of red is still present.

After about three minutes, your eyelids begin to droop in a way that you haven’t felt in so long. It feels like there’s tiny weights attached to each of your eyelashes. That always present straining headache begins to dull and fade.

All of your muscles relax and untense, even your jaw slacks slightly.

“Relax,” Hyunjin repeats again, his words a soft whisper. And again you feel both syllables against your own lips.

With each blink, your eyes close more and more.

A calmness washes over you. Your bedroll is suddenly comfier than your bed in the keep. The sleepiness that you’ve craved for so many nights now is finally taking you.

The hand on your face moves slowly and cards through your hair, gently brushing away any strands that fell in your face. His fingers comb through the locks gently, lulling you further and further into dreamland.

“Rest now, Y/N.”

Just as your eyes close completely, Hyunjin leans over and presses his lips to your forehead. Like a shockwave, a flood of peace goes down your body at the contact.

You’re not sure how long he keeps his lips to your skin because by the time you could register the action, sleep finally took you.

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Warmth. An unbelievably comfortable warmth surrounded your entire body. It wrapped around you like a serpent and kept you in its tight hold.

Voices of soldiers outside stirred you from your first real sleep in two or three weeks. Your eyes no longer felt as though they were straining in their sockets.

Everyone was packing up for the battle. It was time.

“Hyunjin,” you hear Changbin’s voice from outside the tent, “Wake up, we leave in thirty minutes time.”

His footsteps recede from outside the canvas tent.

Hyunjin? That’s right, you were in Hyunjin’s tent.

He used some sort of magic to finally allow you to fall into a restful, dreamless slumber.

The weight on your waist suddenly tightens and you’re held tighter against something solid. Is that…?

A soft groan comes from behind you and your body tenses up. It absolutely is.

Hyunjin moves around a bit from behind you, his arm still tightly wound around your midsection, bringing you flush against his long, lithe form. Every part of you was molded against him. From your back to your feet, every body part interlocked with his.

As he’s waking up, his body writhes and his hips move against yours a bit. Much to your chagrin, it sends a shock wave up your spine and into the base of your neck.

He lets out a long yawn, the heat from his breath blows over the back of your head. Hyunjin’s head dips down slightly and is pressed between the top of your shoulder blades as he stretches out his legs. The arm around you is only getting tighter.

Does he know you’re awake? Does he realize it’s you that he’s holding like this?

With one final stretch, he releases your waist and runs his hand up your side like he did last night. He traces each curve of your body and stops at your shoulder.

“Y/N,” he says in your ear. When had he leaned forward? “You can quit pretending to be asleep.”

You stay quiet for a moment longer before opening your eyes, it’s still dark outside.

If the army was going to make it to Fort Mire by first light, you all needed to leave soon.

Hyunjin rolled his body away from yours, peeling himself from the bedroll. When he lifts the blanket, a rush of cold air finds its way inside the warm blankets.

You hiss and curl in, grabbing the blankets closer to yourself. He only laughs at you.

A silent moment settles in the tent.

“I had not had rest like that in so long,” you admit quietly, Hyunjin stops shuffling around and watches you as you roll over onto your back to look at him. “Thank you.”

The last interaction you had with the mage had ended poorly; truly, it was at both of your faults.

Hyunjin watches you a little longer before nodding, a slight smile on his face. It’s genuine and reaches his dark red eyes.

“Aye,” he says simply, “If you need my assistance again, you know where to find me.”

And with that, he ducks out of his tent to go prepare himself for battle. You watch him leave and then look up at the top of the tent, the ghost of his touch still haunting your skin.

----------------------------------------------

Not a soul was speaking. Every soldier fell in line and marched silently, boots hit grass, armor clinked, horses walked along the dirt.

The legion had crossed over the Amvista by bridge about an hour ago.

When your boots hit Erban soul, you thought that it would bring about a wave of complicated feelings, but truly you were only met with one: anger. Red, hot, burning anger.

You want to be nervous for this fight, so badly you want your mind to be reeling with every possible outcome, every way for you to fail; but the only thoughts you have are ones of battle induced rage.

The army suddenly came to a halt at the top of a hill. At the bottom sat Fort Mire. From where you stood, you could not see if Erban soldiers were running around or if your presence was made aware of. Yet.

The sky was lighting up, the sun should be rising any second now.

Changbin sat on his horse in front of everyone. For a moment you could only see the back of his head as he watched Fort Mire for a long moment. He turned his horse around and stared out among the sea of his soldiers; men and women all ready and willing to give their lives at his command.

He squeezes his thighs and his horse slowly walks parallel with the front line. The commander continues to look out among all the faces.

When his eyes find yours, he hesitates for a split second. You nod your head as imperceptibly as you could, he does the same and looks away.

“Today marks Day One of the war that history will remember.” He says strongly over the sea of soldiers. His voice is even and confident. “On this day, you will raise your sword for the Elven lives that were cruelly taken from this world. No more will these sinful devils torture the innocent lives of our brothers and sisters.”

Changbin reaches down and unsheaths his sword and holds it up in the air. “Today we fight for the voices that were stolen! You will fight for each and every soul who was beaten down into the dirt! You fight for them!”

He holds his sword up in the air and every soldier around you issues a mighty battle cry. Some hit their swords against their shields, others stamped their feet in the dirt making the ground vibrate.

“Today we take Fort Mire!”

Another scream.

“Archers ready!”

At this point, you’re able to spy a lot of movement happening down at the Fort. Soldiers were scrambling to wake up the ones that were sleeping.

The front line of archers in front of Changbin take out their bows and knock their first arrows, each movement is almost synchronized.

Changbin turns his horse to face the Fort, his sword still held aloft in the air.

“Erbus will know the wrath of Miroh! On my mark!”

You pull your sword from your hip with other soldiers. Everyone starts shifting on their feet in anticipation.

Loud yelling is echoing up from the Fort.

“Aim!” Changbin yells and each archer pulls their arrows back, bows aimed up at the sky.

You suck in a large breath, your body humming.

“Fire!”

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