#I am not your errand runner

[i-am-a-secret-ssshhh]

Me, about to head home from filling out paperwork at work: *Texting my mom* I'm on my way back, do you need anything?

Her, texting back: No, I'm OK.

Me: Ok

Me, an hour later: I'm going to the store, do you want or need anything?

Her: No, I should be good.

Me: You sure?

Her: Yes

Me, an hour and a half later: *Taking a nap because my head hurts*

My mom: Heeeeey, so, your head feeling better?

Me, sensing an ulterior motive: Why?

Her: ....

Me: ??

Her: I need you to run to the store.

[dxrlingluv]

Uhh what about Hermes x Reader where Reader gets attacked and Hermes is uncharacteristically quiet and absolutely pissed, hurt/comfort? GN reader preferably but any is fine? The rest is up to you

The Protector

A/N : I am so in love with Zieru’s design of Hermes like oml make love with me please. Also thank you so much for requesting this!! I can def see Hermes being like this to smn he cares about, especially his favorite mortal which is you <33.

WARNING : Gender Neutral implied Reader but no gender was mentioned, Mortal!Reader, Mentions of harassment, sexual assault, physical violation, etc. The suitors are their own warning.

The life of a servant in the great castle of Ithaca was a whirlwind of activity, a constant cycle of tasks and duties that left little room for leisure. You, however, were more than just a servant; you were a personal attendant to Queen Penelope, a position that came with its own set of unique privileges and challenges.

The work was demanding, often requiring you to be in several places at once, attending to the Queen's needs, managing household affairs, and ensuring the smooth running of the castle.

It was this very demanding schedule that brought you into contact with Hermes. The fleet-footed god, with his boundless energy and insatiable curiosity, often found himself in Ithaca, delivering messages, running errands for the other gods, or simply seeking a bit of amusement in the mortal realm. He was, as always, a whirlwind of sunny disposition, his grin wide and playful, his words a constant stream of witty remarks and teasing banter.

Every time Hermes encountered you, he would attempt to strike up a conversation, his golden eyes sparkling with interest. He'd offer to help with your tasks (in his own, usually chaotic way), share some gossip from Olympus, or simply try to engage you in some lighthearted banter. But you, ever focused on your duties, would often cut him short, a polite but firm dismissal on your lips.

"I'm busy, Hermes," you'd say, your tone apologetic but unwavering, as you hurried past him with a stack of freshly laundered linens.

Or, "Too busy, maybe next time," you'd reply, with a flick of your hand, your attention already on the next task at hand, a half-finished scroll in your other arm.

Hermes, to his credit, was persistent. He never seemed to take offense at your repeated dismissals. His sunny personality remained undimmed, his grin unwavering. He would simply chuckle, a cheerful sound that echoed through the halls, and say something like, "Ah, duty calls! But the messenger god never gives up!" before flitting off to his next errand.

One particular afternoon, the Queen required a specific type of rare spice for a special preparation. The spice was stored in the castle's larder, a vast chamber where provisions were kept. You were tasked with retrieving it.

The larder, usually a place of quiet order, was filled with a boisterous crowd. The suitors, those unwelcome guests who had plagued Penelope and the castle since Odysseus's long absence, were gathered there. They were loud, drunk, and obnoxious, their usual arrogance amplified by copious amounts of wine.

You tried to slip in unnoticed, hoping to grab the spice and leave as quickly as possible. But the suitors, with their ever-watchful eyes, spotted you. A predatory gleam lit up their faces. They considered you an easy target, someone they could bully and harass with impunity.

"Well, well, look what the cat dragged in," one of them sneered, his voice thick with wine.

"The Queen's little errand runner," another added, his laughter crude and mocking.

They advanced, their words turning into shoves, their playful taunts escalating into something more sinister. You tried to defend yourself, to push them away, but they outnumbered you, their drunken strength overwhelming your efforts. You were shoved, grabbed, assaulted, and their cruel words cutting deeper than any blade.

In the end, you managed to break free, but not without injury. You stumbled out of the larder, bruised, bleeding, and shaken, the precious spice clutched tightly in your hand. Your body ached, your spirit bruised.

Your personal room, a small but private space, was a welcome sanctuary. You collapsed inside, leaning against the door, the spice falling to the floor. The perks of being a personal servant to the Queen included having a space to retreat to, a luxury you were immensely grateful for at that moment.

You were a mess. Cuts and bruises marred your skin, your clothes were torn, and your hair was disheveled. With trembling hands, you tried to clean your wounds, wincing as you dabbed at the cuts with a damp cloth. The task was slow and painful, each movement a reminder of the brutal encounter.

Suddenly, a familiar voice echoed from the hallway, "Hey there, Darling! I was just telling old Hephaestus about the-" The voice stopped abruptly.

Hermes stood on the entrance of your window, his usual sunny smile frozen on his face. His eyes, wide with excitement a moment before, now registered shock, disbelief, and a dawning horror. The sight of you, battered and bloodied, seemed to physically knock the wind out of him.

His demeanor shifted in an instant. The transformation was startling, profound. The playful glint in his eyes was extinguished, replaced by a dark, simmering anger. His shoulders tensed, his jaw clenched, and the usual cheerful expression was replaced by a grim mask of fury. It was a side of Hermes you had never seen, a side that was raw, primal, and utterly terrifying.

He rushed to your side, his movements swift and purposeful, but his touch was gentle, almost reverent. "(Y/N)!" he breathed, his voice a low, guttural growl, a far cry from his usual melodious tones. "What happened? Who did this to you?"

You flinched at the raw intensity in his voice, surprised and slightly overwhelmed by this unfamiliar, darker side of Hermes. You tried to speak, to explain, but your voice was barely a whisper. "The suitors," you managed to croak, the word catching in your throat. "In the larder... they..."

Hermes's expression hardened. His eyes, usually bright and full of life, narrowed into slits of cold fury. A dangerous aura emanated from him, a palpable sense of divine wrath that made the very air crackle. It was a far cry from the cheerful messenger you knew. This was Hermes, the son of Zeus, a god of power and vengeance, and that power was now focused on those who had dared to harm you.

He knelt beside you, his touch surprisingly gentle as he examined your injuries. His hands, usually so swift and playful, were now careful, almost reverent, as they traced the bruises on your arms and the cuts on your face. He made a soft, hissing sound as he saw the extent of your pain, a sound that spoke volumes about his inner turmoil.

"They did this to you?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. It wasn't a question, but a statement, a confirmation of a truth he already knew but couldn't quite believe.

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. You were not usually one to cry, but the pain, the fear, and the sheer shock of the attack, combined with Hermes's uncharacteristic demeanor, had overwhelmed your composure.

Hermes's jaw tightened. "I should have been here," he muttered, more to himself than to you. "I should have protected you." There was a self-reproach in his voice, a guilt that seemed utterly out of place for the usually carefree god.

He carefully lifted you and carried you to the small bed in your room, his movements swift and sure, yet incredibly tender. He laid you down with the utmost care, as if you were made of the most delicate porcelain.

Then, he turned away for a moment, pacing the small room with a restless energy that was both unsettling and mesmerizing. He was a whirlwind of suppressed fury, a storm contained within the confines of the small space.

"They will pay," he said finally, his voice low and menacing. "They will learn what it means to harm someone under my protection."

You reached out a trembling hand. "Hermes..." you whispered, trying to calm him, though a part of you was grateful for his anger on your behalf.

He stopped pacing and turned back to you, his expression softening slightly as he saw your distress. He knelt beside the bed, his gaze searching yours. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice softer now, though the edge of fury still lingered. "I didn't mean to frighten you. But (Y/N), seeing you like this..." He broke off, unable to articulate the depth of his feelings.

He took your hand in his, his grip firm and reassuring. "I should have taken your hints," he said, a hint of his old self creeping back into his voice, though it was still tinged with a seriousness you had never heard before. "I was so caught up in my own... amusements... that I didn't see how busy you truly were. I should have realized you weren't just being dismissive."

He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of regret and a newfound tenderness. "I've been a fool," he admitted, a rare admission from the usually prideful god. "I've been so busy being Hermes, the messenger god, the trickster, the jokester, that I forgot to be... a friend."

He paused, taking a deep breath. "But that's going to change, (Y/N)," he vowed, his voice firm and resolute. "I'm going to make sure you're safe. I'm going to protect you. And I'm going to make those suitors regret the day they laid a hand on you."

He tended to your wounds with divine skill, his touch gentle and soothing. He cleaned the cuts with a nectar that smelled of ambrosia and healed with a soft, golden light, and wrapped you in bandages that felt like silk against your skin.

As he worked, he told you stories, not of his usual pranks and escapades, but of his travels through different realms, of the kindness he had witnessed, and the beauty he had seen. His voice, though still tinged with a newfound seriousness, was calming and reassuring.

When he was finished, he sat beside you, his hand resting on yours. The anger had receded, replaced by a quiet determination and a tenderness that was both comforting and captivating.

"Rest now," he said, his voice a low murmur. "I won't leave you. And I promise you, (Y/N), this will never happen again."

You giggled at his seriousness, “But Hermes, I have yet to give My lady her spice,” as you said that, Hermes flew off in a swift move. If you weren’t paying attention, you wouldn’t have noticed how fast he had snatched the spice on the ground. Now that’s the god of thieves to you.

Within a second, Hermes was back, flyingback to you bedroom trough the window. Sitting back next to you, he had firmly told you to rest. Finding that protesting would be futile in this situation, you lied down, staring at Hermes with a soft and thankful look.

And as you drifted off to sleep, lulled by his presence and the warmth of his hand on yours, you knew, deep in your heart, that he meant every word he had said earlier.

The cheerful, teasing Hermes you had known was still there, but beneath that sunny exterior was a depth of feeling, a fierce protectiveness, and a loyalty that you had never suspected.

And perhaps, you realized, this was the beginning of something more than just friendship.

“Thank you, Hermes.”

[temiizpalace]

Can i have Malleus and Leona with prompt 3?

☆┊PUT YOUR HEAD ON MY SHOULDER! NOT HIS! (🐉 vs. 🦁)

SUMMARY: THEY BOTH OFFER HIS SHOULDER TO REST ON. WHO KNEW IT BECAME A FULL BLOWN WAR!

CHARACTERS: malleus draconia vs. leona kingscholar

EVENT MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: no determined end couple, jealousy, crowley sucks at being a guardian 👎👎👎

NOTES: leona suffering chronicles part 3!!! /j tysm for your request!

reader is g/n, reader is yuu

˚∘☆∘˚

helping crowley had many benefits.

weekly payments, a home and shelter, and a beloved father figure. that’s what he claims anyway. however, from yours and grim’s experience, there were also many drawbacks; he forgets to pay you, he forgets about you, you’re his favorite errand runner, and you tend to pull all-nighters in order to finish up his chores.

in short, helping crowley was just asking for a death wish. finally finding some free time in your day to rest, you sat onto a nearby bench hidden by the trees, basking you in some shade.

“urgh.. if i have to run down anymore papers to crewel i think ima be sick.” grim groans, stretching himself into your lap before curling up to nap. “tell me about it.. im sick of being sam’s supplier.” you sigh, leaning your head onto the back of the bench. “child of man? what are you doing outside of class?” a certain prince calls out, suddenly sitting by your side.

“tsunotaro? i could ask you the same question.” you laugh, suddenly snapping yourself awake. “wasn’t there a housewarden meeting today?” you ask, seeing his face twist into a pout. “if that is the case then they have failed to invite me.” he sighs, crossing his arms with a frown.

“seriously? again?” you scoff, shaking your head. “i’ll have a talk with crowley about this when i see him later.” you smile at him, patting his back. “i appreciate it. you’re too kind, really.” malleus looks into your eyes, not being able to resist smiling back at you. as you both continue to converse like normal, you have yawned far too many times for the poor boys liking.

“are you sleeping alright? i believe you yawned at least 10 times during our conversation. are my topics too boring for your liking?” he frets, sudden worry overriding his emotions. were you losing interest in him? are you going to leave him?! oh no. no no no no no no no no—

“why would you think that?! im always interested in what you have to say. crowley has been working me ragged lately, that’s all.” you reassure malleus, giving him a thumbs up as if what you said wasn’t concerning in the least. “why that lousy..” he mutters, eyes narrowing at the facts. how dare that stupid insolent prick drive his poor beloved prefect to the brink of exhaustion. it’s inexcusable.

“im on a break for once, so me and grim were just resting here.” you smile, pointing to your sleepy catlike companion. speaking of catlike companions, leona watched from a faraway tree your little chat with malleus. yuck. he’s already annoyed when you talk to other beastmen, but talking to that horned bastard just left a bad taste in his mouth.

“well, you’re more than welcome to rest on—”

“hey.” leona huffs, plopping himself beside you. malleus’ eye twitched at the sight. are you shitting me. what is he doing here? isn’t there a housewarden meeting for him to attend to? go away. “leona?! shouldn’t you be at the housewarden meeting?” you exclaim, practically taking the words right out of malleus’ mouth.

“mm, ditched. no way am i attendin something stupid like that first thing in the morning.” he shrugs, crossing his legs and making himself comfortable. “looks like someone wasn’t invited.” leona grins, pointing at the obviously annoyed prince sitting beside you. “if you had just come to insult me, then you can take your leave and save it for later, kingscholar.” malleus replies with a polite yet harsh tone.

“not everythin’s about you, lizard. can’t i care for my own underclassmen?” leona frowns, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “..pardon?” malleus furrowed his brow, watching as the lion prince got far too touchy for his taste. “they got eye bags, probably haven’t been sleeping well. since im such a kindhearted senior, i don’t mind if they rest a lil.” he smirks, leaning you onto his shoulder.

“really?!” you shout in disbelief, nearly waking poor grim up. leona was one to never admit to anything, always keeping you guessing. seeing him so.. direct threw you and malleus for a loop. “would you rather rest on tree bark?” he raised a brow, leaning closer to your face. “nope! thanks i guess, leona.” you hastily accept, deciding not to question it.

“thanks for talking to me malleus, it kept me from falling asleep.” you smile, now shutting your eyes. in a matter of seconds, you had already fallen asleep, relieved from all the previous exhaustion. the two princes glared at one another, tensions rising to new heights. “your services are no longer needed, you can go to the housewarden meeting. consider it an invite.” leona chuckles, waving malleus off towards the hallway, earning a genuine look of anger from the usually calm and collected fae.

“i appreciate the sentiment, but i believe the child of man and i were having a heartfelt conversation before you showed up. as king of briar valley, consider yourself excused.” malleus retorts, moving you over onto his shoulder. leona scowls in return to his obvious insult, very gently moving your head back to him. “if i remember right, they chose to lean onto me. not nice taking what’s not yours.”

“don’t act like you didn’t just steal their attention.” malleus scoffs, tugging you back towards him. “why you horned bastard.” leona growls, bearing his fangs at the now smug prince. and so, the game of tug of war began. constant pulling back and forth, back and forth, it was a miracle you hadn’t waken up yet. poor prefect..

HOWEVER, a certain someone else felt the shaking, and just couldn’t stand it. grims eyes flutter open as he looks to the two housewardens tugging you left and right with a frown. “HEY,” grim shouts, startling the two as they looked down. “do ya mind?! some of us need to get a lil shut eye.” he hisses, trying to look at the very least intimidating. “shut it, pipsqueak.” leona grunts, glaring at grim.

“grim, i believe it is best if you don’t intervene.” malleus stated sternly, moving him off of your lap. “HOW DARE YOU! GRIM THE GREAT LISTENS TO NOBODY! [MC]! WAKE UP, WE’RE SLEEPING SOMEWHERE AWAY FROM THESE FREAKS.” grim shrieks, almost rupturing both of their eardrums.

you stir awake at grim’s shrill voice, rubbing your eyes with a grumble before looking downwards. “huh..? oh, tsunotaro? leona? you’re still here?” you mumble, turning your your sides to see the two boys covering their ears. “let’s get outta here and sleep somewhere else. crowley might find us and give us somethin else to do.” grim frowns, tugging your hand.

“alright, alright, jeez. calm down, will ya?” you sigh, reluctantly getting up and following him inside. “i’ll see you both later! don’t go arguing more, ya hear?” you show them a smile before grim drags you out of sight, leaving both boys dumbfounded.

“it’s your fault they left. tch, dumb lizard.” leona grunts, glaring daggers into malleus. “my fault? how about saying that again after i shave off that mane of yours?” he jeers, feeling a vein about to burst. “haah? what was that?!”

they did indeed, argue again.

A/N: three leona requests in a row is crazy 😭😭 he can’t catch a break (imagine leona bald tho)

date published: 8/25/24

© temiizpalace — do not copy, steal, or put my work into ai. thank you!

[pomefioredove]

Hello! Hope your day has been going good :)

May I get a sugar cookie, #12, with frosting, candy cane, and marshmallows please and thank you!

another yummy combo

order #12, sugar with frosting, candy cane, marshmallows

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ for chivalry's sake

summary: sebek accidentally wrecks your room and has to pay the price tropes: only one bed, roommate au, friends to lovers characters: sebek additional info: romantic, gender neutral reader, reader is yuu, kissing

"IT WAS NOT MY FAULT! IT WAS THAT TERRIBLE DIREBEAST!"

"NUH-UH! I'M INNOCENT! I'M THE VICTIM HERE!"

Both you and Crowley take your hands off your ears as Sebek and Grim sit, simmering with contempt. Lilia picks at his teeth.

The Headmage sighs. "...I understand it's a... complicated situation-"

"There ain't nothing complicated about it! He said he was a better mage than me!"

"WHICH IS CORRECT!"

"-Regardless," Crowley interjects. "There is still a hole in the roof of Ramshackle. I cannot have my errand runner- er, students living in such conditions."

Sebek crosses his arms. "Yes, yes, humans are weak and frail. What does that have to do with me?"

"Now, Sebek, be chivalrous," Lilia says, smiling, as if the whole thing was funny to him. Sebek grumbles.

"Seeing as you were involved in the incident, Mr. Zigvolt, I think the Prefect should stay with you until the hole has been repaired,"

The disbelief is unanimous. "WHAT?!"

Grim's fur bristles. "I ain't staying with that guy!"

"AND I WOULD NEVER!"

"I would like to sleep this week, thank you," you mutter.

Crowley hums. "Now, now. Being as clever as I am, I knew you would never agree. Worry not, Mr. Vanrouge has volunteered to, ah, babysit Grim in the evenings. Peace and quiet!"

Lilia smiles sweetly.

But it is not, in fact, peace and quiet.

Though Grim is unable to burn any more holes in the roof, Sebek is as unapproachable as ever.

Actually, unapproachable wouldn't even begin to describe it.

"I will surely lose sleep during this," he mutters, pacing the bedroom. "Then I will perform poorly during training. That incompetent Headmage! What would Grandfather think? I was told to be chivalrous, but this is foolish!"

You watch from the bed, tired, but kept well awake by him. "Well, you're not going to get any sleep like that. You should come to bed,"

Sebek bristles, as if you'd insulted him. "QUIET, HUMAN! CAN'T YOU SEE I'M THINKING?"

You stare back. It had been a long time since he'd snapped at you, and longer since he'd called you "human" rather than your name. Does sharing a room really bother him that much?

Sebek sees your expression and softens.

"I apologize. I am... I'm... I only- I don't-"

Oh. Of course.

You face him as he paces the room.

"Sebek," you say. "Are you... nervous to share a bed?"

He stops. And he blushes. "THAT'S PREPOSTUROUS!"

You decide to have mercy on him, suppressing the laughter that so desperately wants to come out. "Heh, it's okay. I won't tell anyone,"

"There's- there's nothing to tell!"

You smile and stand in front of him. Sebek looks about ready to burst, his face red, his fists clenched at his sides. If you focus on his hands, you might even catch a tremble.

"THAT'S CLOSE ENOUGH!" he shouts, though he's leaning in, too.

Your smile softens, and before he can open his mouth to shout again, you kiss him. Whether for instinct or for chivalry's sake, he kisses back, holding your face in both palms and pulling you closer.

...And then he realize what he's doing, and his knees give out.

Your eyes widen. "Are you-"

"I'M WELL," Sebek stands, stiffly, salutes as if you were his sergeant, and then runs to the door.

"I-I think I will stay with Lilia tonight! So as to- get my sleep! Good evening, Prefect!"

And then he's gone. You smile. His nervousness is sweet, in a way- and even if Lilia doesn't force him, he'll be back.

He's chivalrous, after all.

[darkbluekies]

The track runner reader fic w/Silas got me thinking👀

Hear me out okay..

Ballerina reader x Silas

How would he react to see her practice,her shows

Swan lake, Giselle..

Italian fouettés, Entrechat quatre x3 royale, Developpe A la Seconde etc

Yk the high extensions,leg holds the whole shebang

Just a thot👀

Stolen part

Yandere!mafia x fem!reader

Summary: you've finally been granted to do ballet, but when Silas sees you upset, everything turns into a nightmare

Warnings: yandere, mentions of blood, broken bones, a lot of guilt and confusion, panic attack(?), reader just feeling horrible

Word count: 2.1k

A/N: I took some creative liberty with your request, I hope that's okay. And uh, I know 0 about ballet, so take this with a handful of salt<3

One performance — that’s the deal. One single performance and then you’ll go back to normal life. You nearly fainted when he told you that you could do one dance, after months and months of begging, pleading and crying. You almost started threatening him when you became desperate enough. 

“Well … we’re here”, Silas sighs as his men stop the car. “You know the rules, don’t you? Do we have to go through them again?”

“No, I know them”, you smile. 

You take his hand while exiting the car. Silas smiles and squeezes your hand softly. It’s worth all the trouble, he tells himself. If you’re happy, then it’s all worth it.

When you enter the practice room, you’re met by a dozen other girls wearing the same clothes as you. It’s been such a long time ago that you’ve felt so … included. There’s a certain feeling about wearing the same thing that creates a unity you can’t explain. 

“Run along”, Silas tells you, giving you a small push towards the group. 

He walks over to the instructor. He can tell right away that she knows who he is. He braces himself. She can either call the police or let him go. If she decides to call the police, he’ll have to create a blood bath and snatch you back in the car. 

“Can I have a word with you?” Silas asks politely. 

“Sure”, the woman answers hesitantly. 

“I can tell by the look on your face that you know very well who I am, so I want to make a deal with you.”

“What type of deal?”

“If you don’t call the cops on me and give my girlfriend an honest chance — because I know that she’s magnificent — I will fund your entire club. All clothes, all expenses, all props, venue, is on me. Fair?”

The woman thinks for a moment. Silas know that the club is underfunded. He knows that she has to agree.

“Okay”, the woman says shortly. 

“Good”, Silas replies and waves at you to come over. 

You skip over with sparkling eyes. He pulls you in to kiss him, in front of everybody. His kisses are always controlled by him, but they always show extremely much love for you, a deep hunger nothing can satisfy. 

“My men will stay to supervise, to make sure nothing happens to you”, he says and gives you another kiss. “Have fun now, little thing. I’ll see you soon.”

You nod. Silas squeezes your shoulder, gives the group of ballerinas a warning stare and then leaves. 

You return to the group. The people who knows who Silas is give you nervous gazes and the ones who don’t look at you with jealousy. 

Well, this is starting off great, you’ll absolutely make many friends.

Time goes on. Silas enjoys seeing the wise smile on your face every time you exit the building after a practice. Every time you’re in practice, he takes the opportunity to do some errands. He always makes sure to come pick you up clean, never covered in blood. 

But one day, you’re crying when you meet him. His heart drops in an instant and he thinks that putting you in ballet was a mistake. It wasn’t worth it at all. 

“What happened, baby?” he asks worriedly and takes you in his arms. “What did they do to you?”

You struggle to talk through your violent sobs. He believes that you’re having a panic attack, but you can still move relatively well. Silas grabs your shoulders and waves at his men to come over. 

“Y/N, what did they do to you?” he asks and looks at his men. “Did any of the others hurt her?”

The men shake their heads. 

“Y/N!” Silas says sharply. 

“I-I didn’t … get … the ... lead role”, you manage to get out through your sobs. 

You know it’s silly, of course. Honestly. It’s childish to cry over not being the main character, but this was your only chance to be on stage before you’ll get pulled back into capture. You’ll never have this much freedom again. It’s embarrassing to cry about this, and you know that very well, but they don’t know how much you’ve suffered to even be in the practice room. 

“You didn’t?” Silas asks shortly. 

“No”, you cry. 

Silas turns to his men and hands you to one of them. 

“Bring her to the car”, he says. “I will be back soon.”

He disappears into the building. The practice room is empty, apart from the constructor who is cleaning up after today's class.

“Oh”, she says, noticing him. “Can I help you?”

“If you're smart, you can”, Silas says coldly. “I heard that Y/N didn't get the lead role. I'm just wondering why?”

“She wasn't exactly what I had in mind for this particular role … I mean, she's extremely good, but just not what I had in mind when I visualized the lead. She's a runner up, though.”

Not good enough, Silas thinks.

“Okay”, he says and nods. “I see.”

Without waiting for an answer, he turns around and leaves. Anger is burning through his chest. Seeing you so upset makes him see red. He would burn down the entire world for you to watch you smile. He walks back to the car where you sit in the backseat and the two men in the front. 

“Hey, baby”, he smiles and sits down beside you. “Are you feeling better? Should we get some food on the way home?”

You nod. Silas smiles and wipes your tears. His men are forced to hear how he sucks the air out of you in the backseat. He devours your lips, trying to comfort both you and himself. He holds you in his arms, letting you cry. The more you cry, the more embarrassed you feel. You’re ashamed because you can’t understand why you are so upset over it. It’s just a role, you’ll still be on stage, won’t you? Is it because you think that you’re better than the others? That you deserve the position of the lead? Do you deserve it because you’re so good or because this is your only chance? The others have many more opportunities to get the role you want, why can’t you just get one? You’ll never be seen again, why can’t you get it?

Why are you thinking like this? You’re not entitled to anything. Has Silas imprinted the narrative that you’re so special, so wonderful that deeply into your brain? Do you believe that you’re this special, one of a kind person that deserve everything because you’re so special? 

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Silas asks, caressing your cheek. “You look so thoughtful. Let me in.”

“I- … I- …”, you start, but can’t seem to talk ��� you can’t even formulate your own thoughts.

“Breathe, baby. It’s okay, you’re with me now.”

“I am breathing … I just …”

“Just …?”

You shake your head. 

“Just hungry”, you lie. “And tired.”

“It’s okay, you’ll get some food soon”, Silas promises and kisses your lips once again. “We’ll stop by McDonald’s.”

You get your food and you eat together with Silas in your bedroom, but you can’t stop thinking about the lump in your stomach. Why are you so upset? Why can’t you put words on your feelings? 

You lay awake the entire night in your empty bed (because Silas is out working) and think. Crying over not getting the lead role won’t make you enjoy the last few weeks in the club. Ballet is your true love, you should do everything you can to enjoy it — specifically because you’ll not get it back. You should be happy with your role — you’re even a runner up! That’s fantastic. You breathe out. Ease sets into your heart. It doesn’t matter what role you get, as long as you have fun. 

When you enter the practice room the next time, you can tell that something is wrong right away. The girl who got the lead part … has crutches. You feel a shiver run down your back. Mortified, you shake your head. Silas. He must have done something to give you the lead role, that you so desperately wanted. He never got to know that you became satisfied with your original role. Guilt washes over you, suddenly you feel extremely sick. You need to take a hold on the wall to not fall. One hand presses against your chest to not vomit. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” one of the body guards asks as they hurry over. 

You nod sloppily. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, oh my god. This is all my fault. 

This is what you had been feeling bad about — finally you can put words on that weird feeling in your stomach. You were scared that Silas would do something to the girl that got the lead without even noticing it. If anything, that shows how close you know Silas.

“He … he did this … didn’t he?” you whisper, feeling distant. 

“The boss couldn’t stand to watch you be upset”, one of the body guards answers quietly, only for you to hear. “He made sure to get you the role he wanted.”

You’re freezing. That poor girl. Suddenly you don’t want that part anymore. The part is dirty, and your hands are covered in blood. 

Your mind is anywhere but in practice when you dance your stolen part, but your body works for you. 

Silas is standing out in the parking lot a wide smile when you walk out. He opens his arms for you, but you don’t walk into them. 

“Are you happy now?” he asks. 

“You shouldn’t have done that, Silas …”, you say quietly and shake your head. 

He tries to grab you, but you jerk back. Silas frowns. 

“But you wanted it”, he says. “You had a panic attack. I gave the part to you.”

“Silas, I feel extremely guilty. I stole her part. It’s not fair.”

He grabs your shoulders and force you to look at him. 

“The world isn’t fair, little thing”, he says. “If you have some power, use it. I want to use my power to make you happy, baby. You’ll do better than that girl ever could. You should have gotten that part from the very beginning.”

He gives you a kiss and brings you to the car. 

When the day for the performance arrive, you refuse to come out of the dressing room. The costume looks horrible on you. You can only see the other girl in the mirror. None of the other girls have talked to you after the lead girl ended up with crutches. They all know why you got the role. And how you got it. 

“We start in five minutes, get out!” the instructor tells you and basically pulls you out on stage. 

You see a lot of familiar faces in the crowd. Silas has brought as many of his men as he possibly could. Silas himself is sitting in the front row with his right hand man beside him, smiling at you. You look around. All his men are smiling at you. Weirdly enough, it’s somehow cute. They all look like they could kill anyone in any second, but the second you look their way, big, genuine smiles creeps up on their faces. Turning them from killer machines to teddy bears. 

You dance to the best of your ability. This is what you’ve been begging and pleading for. Better enjoy the spotlight while you can. You can’t help but feeling dirty throughout the performance. Silas, however, has never looked this proud before. 

The second the applauds roll in, you fall to your knees, crying. You fulfilled your childhood dream, but at what cost? A girl broke her leg because of your emotions, you stole her role … you’re covered in dirt that you can’t wash off. You don’t deserve these applauds. You don’t deserve any of this. 

“Y/N!” Silas gasps and runs up on the stage with his right hand man by his side. “Are you okay, baby?”

“I want to go home”, you sob. “Get me out of here.”

Silas nods and waves at his men to walk out. He picks you up and follows his men. 

“You did so well, baby”, Silas smiles while walking. “I’ma always proud of you, but this was something else. Everyone saw how absolutely fantastic you were. You’re an absolute badass, baby. I fucking love you so much.”

You smile slightly. It’s finally over. You’ve achieved your dream — although you wish that you never had done it — and now, you’re going back to your locked bedroom. You almost long for it. 

[yumecel]

Closer to God ❤️

yandere wriothesley / reader | 3k words

summary: the duke finds himself fascinated with you. to an almost unhealthy degree. scratch that, it is unhealthy. but in the underground world of vitamin D deficiencies, questionable mystery meats, and near-agoraphobia towards the overworld, does the “health” of one’s desires really matter so much?

character specifics: uhhh i think nothing but so heavily written from reader’s perspective that you may not feel his essence is fully Captured

reader specifics: female reader girl/she/wife terms

world specifics: i have no idea how fontaines legal system works and it will show. hinted matchmaker sigewinne but don’t hate her

tws: yandere, non con kissing, stalking

a/n: i could chew through fucking steel right now i am so full of lust and felt possessed to write something to this iconic song despite there being NO ACTUAL SMUT sorry.

i promise i’m 18+, i promise i’m okay with seeing dark content, i know this will haunt me in the world to come should i lie [yes⬇️] [no↩️]

——❤️——

You have been instructed to deliver his tea. The box feels like it’s more valuable than your entire existence, all gold-trimmed edges and swirling designs. That’s probably why it was entrusted into your hands when the usual runners are preoccupied.

Probably.

But it’s the third errand this week, and it seems so unnecessary for you personally to run it. And your sentence will be over in six weeks. And seeing the Duke now only makes your anxiety spike, lest you stumble straight into a crime you wouldn’t even know you were committing and somehow end up extending your sentence.

He’s not like that. Surely not. But you’ve been worrying.

Something in his bone-chilling gaze towards you betrays his casual demeanour. It’s the same something in the forced lingering, the excuses. The ways that he swindles you into staying in his office for an hour or two when you want to leave. Today is no different. One of the teas comes such a long way, you see, all the way from Inazuma, and you must indulge in a cup and let him know your opinion on it. Is it similar to the last one from Liyue? They have different methods of drying out the leaves. Did you drink any of it when you were in the overworld?

You always answer his questions the best you can. It’s easiest when they’re all small talk like this, and you’re not trying to play oblivious at his advances. There’s going to be a further advance soon, you can feel it.

It’s six weeks until the end of your sentence and Wriothesley’s interest in you seems foolish. With a little luck, you’ll never return to the Fortress of Meropide in your life. You did everything right, you deserve to leave, surely?

But you know that Wriothesley is no fool, and that he would not be playing these games so boldly if he was not certain to win.

——❤️——

Eleven months ago, you didn’t make much conversation with anyone in the prison. You did what you always thought you should do in a prison; kept your head down, worked hard, and didn’t associate too intimately with anyone.

Ten months ago, you had started to assume Sigewinne pitied you, or whatever the closest melusine approximation to “pity” was. Somehow designated to running errands for the infirmary, you talked to her more than any of the prisoners. Though you were grateful for her support, you kept displaying the autonomy and dignity that would let her know you were of the composition that didn’t desire company. It wouldn’t fool a melusine as observant as Sigewinne. You knew this. But you persisted, holding onto shreds of pride.

Nine months ago, Sigewinne had managed to get you to open up. You had believed at the time you were contributing to her understanding of human emotions, but now you suspect that she had motives of helping you.

“As for why I don’t really talk to anyone outside of working, well, I… I’m still processing everything. I feel like people won’t accept what I did, and get the same pushback I felt from people up there and I just… can’t relive that. People that I thought would understand didn’t, and it’s been difficult to recover trust in others.”

Sigewinne’s eyes examined you thoroughly. You maintained a perfectly still expression, under the impression that her observations of your face were for her research.

“Hmm… what if someone was guaranteed to understand you?

You took a little time to think before answering, “I think it would help. But I doubt I would personally pursue someone like that.”

“You wouldn’t?” Sigewinne queried.

“I wouldn’t. And I don’t know where I would find someone who understood.”

“Where indeed…” she whispered, more to herself than you, eyes flitting back to yours. A slight raise of the eyebrows indicated that she had come to a conclusion about something, and you weren’t sure about what. You were just happy to help, and it didn’t occur how deeply you had revealed your emotions until later.

Eight months ago, you had started running errands for Wriothesley. This followed a mixup with your records, where Sigewinne accepted blame for not filing your work hours accurately as your manager. The Duke himself had to personally review your entire record in prison to confirm that there were no inconsistencies. You were a little embarrassed by the whole thing, though Sigewinne insisted she was entirely at fault and deeply sorry. You didn’t blame her as it was an exceedingly rare mistake on her part. If anything, you were a little touched that Sigewinne cared so deeply about this. Also, the apology cake from the overworld certainly washed away any remaining feelings of irritation you held.

Eventually, you found yourself walking into the Duke’s office like Sigewinne had told you to, hands clasped in front of you. “Sigewinne sent me, Your Grace.”

“Oh, (Y/N). Thank you for coming along. I just need you to read some documents and sign them.” He said, motioning to three papers on his desk.

Hearing your name spill from his mouth so casually felt surreal. Nevertheless, you took timid steps forward and examined the documents.

“Sigewinne speaks highly of you, you know.”

Unsure how exactly to respond, you paused for a moment. “I’m glad she does, Your Grace.”

You continued examining the documents, quickly signing the first one off.

“If you wouldn’t mind, I need someone trustworthy to help me hand some medical records to Sigewinne for me. Well, maybe “hand” is an understatement.”

In your peripheral vision, you catch the way he gestures towards some boxes, more than one person could reasonably move at a time.

Ink meets paper on the second document.

“Of course. I’d be more than willing to help.”

“Ah, great. Our head nurse is capable, but I’d just feel bad making her carry these on her own.”

“Yes, I understand.”

“I knew you would.” The Duke says.

Silence hangs in the air. You pull the final document closer towards you to interrupt the unbearable quiet. Eventually, you make the final signature and turn around, moving towards the boxes.

The files look rather haphazardly thrown in, papers sticking out from their respective folders. That’s when the Duke approaches from behind, placing a hand gently on your shoulder. Not expecting the touch, you jump slightly, and then pretend to act like it never happened. He felt it though. He couldn’t have not felt it.

“Also, maybe you could do me another favour and help me sort these before we give them back to her?”

There is nothing else to do other than nod and say, “Of course, Your Grace.”

Eight months ago you learned that the Duke is exceptionally chatty around you. Eight months ago, your work became more divided between his office and Sigewinne’s infirmary.

Seven months ago, you had first divulged information about your crime to the Duke.

“What are you in for?” is a common enough question in the Fortress of Meropide. His Grace has never asked you it, and he wouldn’t need to either. And yet, his speech is peppered with implications about your crime that you can either refute or accept. You had dodged every hidden question artfully, and he would be very blatant about acknowledging this, saying you didn’t have to answer if you didn’t want to. Comforted by this, you had started trusting him.

Seven months ago, you had started trusting Wriothesley, and that had been a mistake.

Of course he already knew your crime. How could he not? A murder in self defence is quite a notable trial in the overworld regardless, and nothing in the underworld slips past Wriothesley.

You may have been a free woman if it was simpler. If the man in that alleyway had been less beloved by his community, if you had not ran away from the crime in fear, if you submitted evidence at the time, if being dragged back to Fontaine was never part of the ordeal. If it hadn’t divided the people around you over whether you should’ve really did it.

If they just understood.

You accepted the sentence nonetheless. Evading the court is a crime in itself, and in that respect you could be considered a prolific criminal.

Sat in his office, you had retold the tale.

Wriothesley understood.

——❤️——

Six months ago, you had entertained the thought of Wriothesley as a fling.

Your heart wanted emotional connection, your brain knew it would be unreasonable to pursue a long term relationship. And your pussy really just liked the idea of him pinning you down and fucking you like an animal.

Some of his little gestures towards you supported this notion. A hand on the small of your back, maybe going a little low, the warmth of his presence behind you. The leering that’d stop when you picked your head up, but you still caught in reflections and out of the corner of your eye. The occasional innuendos. Wriothesley is fairly down-to-earth all the time, but with you, some more primal desires seep through.

But sometimes, it was different. The way he’d sweep hair away from your face. The possessiveness around you when other prisoners- now seemingly assuming you were a member of staff rather than an actual prisoner- talked to you. Always played off as professionalism. And the endless desire to know exactly what you were up to, inside and out.

Noting this, you were a little less reciprocative of his hints, afraid of feelings being hurt. He seemed to accept it. You were friends now. You knew about his crimes, which he had confided to you in private. He knew everything there was to know about yours. You would come to chat over tea. You continued working with Sigewinne, but saw her less. Wriothesley dominated most of your waking moments.

But the possessiveness didn’t stop, and the curiosity was starting to become intrusive.

——❤️——

Four months ago, you had learned that Wriothesley personally went through all of your mail.

All mail of yours was immediately forwarded to his office, where it would be opened and sent back to the mailroom. You had only found this out when you wandered into the mailroom and inquired about the mail, expecting a monthly letter from your family that was a little late.

“Oh, I take it she’s one of your patients? All of that mail gets forwarded to the Duke first. Guess there was a contraband incident or something. Anyway, don’t have it.”

It was information the attendant would have never divulged to you if he realised who you were. You blended in so well as a member of staff that people had started to see you as a nursing attendant before anything else. The clothes you now wore that treaded the line between prisoner and staff member were another layer of this disguise, courtesy of Wriothesley. Now, it was working against him.

Despite how perturbed you were, you managed a, “Oh, thank you for telling me.”, and immediately darted towards Wriothesley’s office, knocking with a shaking hand before you heard him telling you to come in.

“How nice it is to see you on your day off. Take it you missed me?” He said, closing his book and getting up to get another cup. It’s like a routine to him, and one he’s very comfortable doing.

“Well, I do have a reason to be here.”

“Cold. Well, let me pour you a cup, and you can tell me all about it. It’s Chenyu adeptea today.”

After getting seated and engaging in a few pleasantries with him, you pose your question, about if what you heard in the mailroom was really true.

He doesn’t deny it.

With a piercing gaze that doesn’t deviate from yours, he says, “Hm. I didn’t want to worry you at the time, but dangerous contraband came through in a parcel addressed to you a couple months back, and I’ve been going through it ever since.”

A reasonable explanation, you suppose. But why keep it from you this long? Surely he must understand this is a betrayal of your trust?

You remain quiet, still trying to process everything.

“My apologies if your feelings are hurt, but I acted in your best interests. I promise that.”

Your fingers glide along the edge of the teacup. “That’s alright. I shouldn’t have doubted your reasoning.”

You finish the cup of tea over lighter conversation, until just before leaving, you pose one last question.

“Ah, uh, you don’t go through my outgoing mail too, right?”

Wriothesley chuckles dryly with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “There’s no reason to do that, is there?”

You’ve known him too long, been confined in his presence with nothing else to do but observe. His perceptiveness is second to none, but you’ve trained yourself. Dodging the question is suspicious. As you close the door to his office, there is no doubt in your mind that he reads every letter you send.

It didn’t surprise you that the mail attendant you first spoke to seemed to no longer work in the mailroom when you next approached it.

——❤️——

It was difficult to remain amicable after that, but you tried your best. Treading a thin line between not upsetting him (not that he’d ever show it) and not allowing him to encroach further on your personal life, you may as well have been walking on the edge of a knife.

The advances started again. He’s more demanding of your time. Sigewinne simply lets you off work to do whatever he demands. She seems to believe there’s something amusing in all of this, and you don’t dare confide in her about your discomfort around the Duke. You don’t think she’d be playing on your side.

Two months ago, he started getting far too touchy. He wants to be next to you, he finds any excuse to put a hand on you, rub your back, your shoulder, the top of your hand- all gestures of comfort that come across more like domination and marking territory. You don’t feel like you can tell him to stop. He has too much power, and you don’t wish to interfere with it. The reality of who he is seems more imposing than ever, and you steel yourself, trying to remain as professional and inoffensive as possible.

The clock ticks down. Less and less days to the end of your sentence.

——❤️——

Two weeks now remain of your time in the Fortress of Meropide.

“I think you might owe me something for that.” Wriothesley says.

You stare down at the cards scattered across the table, remnants of a finished game that Wriothesley had won. He looks slightly smug about it. It’s only been a few rounds, too. He’s often happy to play many more.

“Like what?”

“Something I’ve always wanted.”

You look up at him, seeing his hand beckon you closer. You get up slowly, carefully stepping around the table. He pats the sofa beside him and the world around you starts to feel dreamlike as you sit down.

His hand touches just under your chin, thumb stroking your jaw, before reaching up steadily to your lips. You know what comes next, and shut your eyes as his lips eventually meet yours. Obediently, you kiss back until he pulls away. When your eyes meet, you immediately look down, observing how his hand was now on your thigh, touching lightly.

You gasp as he squeezes, feeling his gaze remain on you. “I… I’m not sure if we should be doing this. I’m l-leaving soon, and I don’t want anyone’s feelings to get hurt.”

“Leaving to where?”

Your blood runs a little cold then, but you steady yourself. “The overworld.”

“You don’t have to.”

Making an earnest attempt to get him to sympathise with you, to understand like he always has, you place your own hand on top of his. “I think I do. I’ve served my sentence with the intention of getting out of this place. I need to go back up. Reintegrate before I forget how.”

Wriothesley doesn’t understand.

When you look up, he’s now looking right through you, into space, into nothingness. “I guess you’re not going to make this easy.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.” You say, roughly swallowing. Against your will, you do understand. You always do.

“We’re made for each other. Circumstance is a powerful thing, (Y/N). If it wasn’t for circumstance, you wouldn’t be in jail. You wouldn’t be like me. I wouldn’t be here either. Two people, who can perfectly understand each other, in the same place. But I suppose you don’t think that’s something worth pursuing?”

“I can’t be here forever.” You reply definitively.

“Don’t exaggerate things, now. I do go up to Fontaine every now and then, you know.”

“You know what I mean.”

Wriothesley sighs.

“I guess I can have your sentence extended. I didn’t want to play that card, but…”

“I- I’ll report you to any authority that will listen!” You exclaim, retracting away from him in horror.

“And it’ll be your word against mine. Wonder how that would work out.” He states, as if he was simply pondering the results of the card game.

Tears have started falling from your eyes. A wave of nausea rolls over your entire body as a thumb gently swipes over your cheeks. You’re utterly stunned and lost for words, slowly collapsing into yourself. Wriothesley takes the opportunity to inch closer and wrap his arms around you, letting you freely sob into his shoulder. There is nothing else to do. His arms are like a prison, and his hot breath is tickling against your ear.

“You’ll understand in time. For now, let’s calm down and maybe we can start preparing for your permanent residence, huh?”

As another sob emerges, his hand rubs your back with overwhelming tenderness.

[lov3rachan]

[I am NOT…] Round One

Summary: Things aren’t always what they seem

Pairing: Lee Know x reader, Bang Chan x reader (separately)

Genre: humour, gender neutral (you/your)

Warning: accuse of harassment (very lighthearted and brief mention) [LK], Seungmin cameo [BC]

Word count: 392 words [LK], 396 words [BC]

Series: I am NOT…

Requested by: no one

Written: 12.03.2025, 21.03.2025 (edited) [LK], 12.03.2025 , 15.03.2025, 21.03.2025 (edited) [BC]

Thanks to: @lovetaroandtaemin for beta reading!

Taglist: @skzdreamer13 , @blueohs

Network: @supernovanetwork

Lee “Know” Minho

Minho looked great with a leather jacket.

He knew that, and he took full advantage of it.

Whenever he wanted to look particularly nice, usually for no reason at all but to see you flustered, he put one on, sometimes even wearing sunglasses to complete his ‘bad boy’ look.

He also knew that he looked scary, hence why he usually tried to keep a smile on his face.

However, as he was getting his ass kicked in a sudoku battle on his phone, his expression got fiercer and fiercer the more he fell behind.

Frustrated, he hastily put his phone away the moment you came out of the building and he gave your ass a light slap, making you yelp a small: “Minho!”.

Quickly, a shop assistant, who had witnessed the scene, came out and put herself between the two of you: “Miss, are you alright? Should I call the police? Is this man harassing you? Please do not be scared to let me know!”.

Minho was astonished at the accusations.

Did he look that much like a bad guy?

As you chuckled and explained the situation to the panicked shop assistant, Lee Know started to ponder his decision to dress up like a bit of a gangster.

When you two walked away, hand in hand, he was still deep in thought.

“Don’t mind her, baby,” you reassured him. “You look good”.

Comforted by your words, he looked at you with a smirk, his mischievous glint back in his eyes: “Just good?”.

“Very sexy. Now stop fishing for compliments” you told him with a laugh, glad to have him back to normal.

Now with a baby voice and an overly exaggerated pout, he gave you a light slap on the shoulder: “Ah, isn’t Minho-ssi just the most beautiful of all? Do you not love me?”.

And just like that, he was back to his normal self.

Who cared about what random people thought?

He loved you, you loved him, and you both knew that.

That was all that mattered.

Though he might go a little lighter on the ‘dark’ vibes, as he didn’t want to risk a police call next time.

Not that there would be a next time.

If he hadn’t worn his sunglasses, the shop assistant would have noticed the loving stare he got whenever he laid eyes on you.

Bang Christopher Chan

Chan hadn’t slept one bit, which surprised no one, in two days, so he was basically a zombie, as he waddled his way back and forth from his studio.

The bags under his eyes were basically gym bags, and he looked paler than usual, probably due to the fact that he had barely seen the sun.

However, he had offered to accompany you to the doctor early in the morning, to spend some time with you, so he dragged himself out of his studio to drive you.

Chan was glad he could get a chance to see you again, especially since, between his schedule and his workaholic tendencies, planning dates was always difficult.

As you arrived, after a few minutes of nagging from you because of his… lacking self-care, to put it kindly, you were both surprised to see Seungmin there, who was waiting to get some medicine for Changbin’s allergy.

Apparently, he had lost rock paper scissors with Hyunjin and Felix and was thus designated as the group’s errand runner for the day.

After a quick exchange of greetings, with the boy dissing Chan’s deteriorated looks, the doctor finally called you.

Chan was about to come with you when the doctor patted his back with a smile and said, “So nice to see fathers like you bringing their children to the doctor even when they’re adults. It’s a great way to share time with them, trust me.”

The producer’s smile fell as he shyly murmured a small “I’m the boyfriend”, his face as red as his hair used to be.

He was truly going to sleep a bit more next time he went out with you.

As he entered the small corridor, which felt like a walk of shame for both him and the doctor, he could hear Seungmin’s full blown laughter filling the waiting room.

He truly was never going to live that down.

Even you, the love of his life, couldn’t contain your giggles as you entered the doctor’s office.

Within minutes, his phone was blown up by notifications from the members, since Seungmin had promptly shared the news the moment he stopped laughing.

‘Old man’ jokes and memes were sent one after the other and Chan simply sighed.

He was giving up.

His only relief was that he hadn’t been mistaken for your grandfather.

He chose to take that as a win.

[diodellet]

stress (jamil viper x gn!reader)

where: jamil sort of interrupts your self-care session, but makes up for it with fervent participation. all for mutual stress relief. content warnings: -bottom!reader -reader is yuu/ramshackle prefect ++confidants-to-bedmates(? lovers? there's hints of mutual pining if you squint), swearing, masturbation, fingering, foreplay galore, sex toys, so so much banter, reader is unserious, there is no plot here. assume everything here is safe, sane, and consensual. word count: 2.6k words minors do not interact

Alone time is sacred. Especially when your weekly agenda consists of you running to-and-fro across a magical campus, constantly being buried under tasks tedious and menial, and keeping egotistical mages from ripping out each others’ throats over affairs concerning the student body.

Well, a “thank you” made you feel less shitty at the end of the day.

Sure, a good nap could revitalize you.

Being treated to an actual meal instead of Mystery Shop brand-instant food was great. But, your alone time, you’d kill if anyone desecrated that.

A sigh leaves you. You click on a higher setting, angle the vibrator against a spot that has your thighs trembling. Your free hand plays with one of your nipples. You’re past fantasizing about phantom sensations and honeyed words.

For a brief moment, you think of firm and callused hands holding you down. Long silky hair brushing against your heated skin. Perceptive gray eyes drinking in your every reaction and the way you arched yourself for more stimulation. They are the last coherent thoughts that flicker through your synapses before your mind is overrun by the singular desire to rut until you come your brains out.

Sadly, the universe does not believe in the sanctity of your alone time.

The vibrations abruptly cut off.

This can’t be happening.

Not even left teetering on the delicious cusp of release, you’re dropped back into your body. Nerves hyperaware of each silicon inch of the toy as you pull it out of you. You click the button multiple times, confirming the worst—

“Stupid batteries. Fucking useless…” Similar curses strung together fall from your lips. You slip on a graphic tee and head to the bathroom, carrying the toy in one hand. 

Your phone powers on as you sit on the toilet, the device buzzes with the simultaneous arrival of message notifications. The sound is a mockery of your interrupted alone time.

Maybe you could rub one out in the shower… That thought will probably become more appealing in about fifteen minutes.

Your eyes catch the first line of a text preview that makes a cold pit open up in your stomach.

J. Viper: I am going to lose my mind. I’ve had it with…

Reading the full text doesn’t ease your worries. There isn’t any more of that dulled neediness tugging at the back of your mind. Your hands move automatically, dumping your cleaned toy and unused towel on your bed’s mattress. While slipping on the first set of bottoms you could reach for, you fire off a reply—Hey don’t say that and other similar placating messages—then pick up your discarded blazer off the floor before finally leaving your room.

[...]

“You’ve been making that face for a while now.”

“What face?” You ask, feigning obliviousness as you keep your attention focused on the electric kettle.

Maybe there was one exception to your need for alone time. Fitting, that it would be one of the few confidants you made in this place.

Never mind about the last thirty minutes before this moment. Like a switch, you’re back to being a dutiful errand-runner, a sympathetic listening ear.

(Once, Jamil called you one of the few other sensible people on Sages’ Island and you have yet to stop riding the high of that moment.)

“Like my being here is making you uncomfortable.”

No shit, Sherlock. Feeling his sharp gaze on top of the sensation of your clothes chafing against your oversensitive skin was uncomfy as fuck. “Look man, I could give you a mug of tea or we can open a new can of worms. I suggest you take the tea.” You lean back against the counter top and tug the end of your blazer a bit more protectively around you.

His lips press together in a thin line. “I can see myself out. Thank you for the offer, though.”

The sound of boiling water reaches its apex. In that split-second, you backtrack. “Wait—I’m sorry, I’m just, I was busy.” Your hand readjusts the pair of pajama pants you hastily threw on, index finger dipping just a fraction of an inch beneath the waistband. Your eyes don’t miss the way his gaze follows the movement of your wrist before it returns to rest itself atop the counter. “I’m not…uncomfy because you’re here. I was just nervous and—and I thought I could serve you tea instead of bothering you with my…current predicament.”

“Oh.” Very eloquent, you’d say the same thing if the positions were reversed.

“So, could we focus on you first? Over a cup of tea, as friends?”

The kettle finally calms down, announcing the newly-boiled water with a loud Clack! of its switch.

Jamil doesn’t immediately respond, scrutinizing you with an emotion you can’t parse. Until it settles onto one of faint interest. “We can have tea later.” He stands up and walks over to you, placing a hand on your waist. “Right now, I think we can both use some stress relief. If…you’ll have me, that is.”

“Really? I hear it’s better to talk things out though. Not that I wouldn’t be open to that second thing….” Your hand lays itself atop his.

“Oh, I’m sure this will be better for the both of—” He pauses, runs his fingertips along the expanse of your lower navel a second time to confirm. “—no underwear?”

Your cheeks warm. “Yes, shut up. I actually got worried for you—ah ah ah! No touching yet!” You slip out of his hold. “Give me five minutes to clean up or something, my room’s a mess.”

Jamil doesn’t let you escape so easily, arms coiling around your middle, your back against his chest. Close enough for him to mutter against your ear in a low voice. “There’s no point to that if we’re going to make a mess in the end.”

(And it’s unfair how the implication—the invitation hidden underneath that—stokes the fire in your gut anew, almost makes you ruin the set of bottoms you threw on.)

Any restraint either of you carried snaps once the lock to your room twists shut. Jamil tugs you close to him, pulling you into a fervent kiss. Once you shrug off your blazer, his hands slip under the hem of your t-shirt, teasing at the sensitive skin of your waist, hiking higher and higher—damn.

“Bed first,” you demand once you pull yourself free. You aren’t panting—you try to convince yourself—though one of your hands is fisted in the front of his hoodie. When he sits on your mattress, you get pulled straight into his lap. His fingers hook against the waistband of your pants, sliding them down to bare your thighs.

Basically, confirming what he already knew. Felt, rather. Your hips buck against his palm as he cups your groin.

“How long were you at it?” There’s a sly smirk pulling at his lip, like he’s pleased to have you and your need for pleasure resting in his hand. All for him to control.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” you huff. “I was already—ngh—washing up when you messaged.”

His smile doesn’t abate. A finger slips into your entrance. “And you couldn’t find the time to properly dress yourself? I’m flattered.”

You’re about to fire off another retort, but the digit curls infuriatingly into a come-hither gesture, slowly rubbing against your inner walls. What leaves your throat instead is a soft, needy noise. “Come on, you’re gonna make me come too fast…”

“So?” And he keeps that irritatingly steady pace. Letting the pleasure in your lower stomach build and build, until you’re shaking from exertion. “Go ahead, then.”

“Mmgh, I want—”

“More? How greedy of you.” Another finger joins the first one, a delicious stretch against your insides combined with each thrust of his wrist.

“No, fuck….wait, I mean—” Words longer than two syllables were suddenly harder to manage. “—you, what about you…?”

“...Me?” 

Maybe, just maybe, your insistence on having mutual reciprocation was biting you in the ass, you’re right on the edge of sweet release. Just one more stroke against that bundle of nerves inside of you, or maybe if you just clenched down hard enough—

“...You’re too considerate, really. To someone like me.”

His words are soft, barely heard over your mounting need. Your insides throb in time with the beat of your heart. But your voice can only manage a dismayed whine when Jamil’s fingers pull out of you.

(That you’re still on the cusp of an orgasm is another thing, but it helps to have your head clearing up a bit.)

“Don’t look at me like that,” he chides you, palms caressing the sides of your thighs. But the smile on his features tells you that he’s drinking in your hazy gaze, simply endeared at how you were reduced to neediness just from his touch. “You wouldn’t want this to end too quickly, would you?”

…he has a point. Your tongue wets your lower lip. “Lose the hoodie then, so—so we can continue.” One of your hands reaches for the hem of his top.

It’s no secret that you find Jamil Viper attractive. Hell, the way he carries himself suggests that even he knows it himself. At least sneaking a few glances gave you some plausible deniability. But in baring just a sliver of his midriff, you might as well have broadcasted the very thought.

Better to get that sorted out before getting him inside of you, right?

Your eyes trace the toned lines of his stomach, the lithe muscles of his arms, the way his loose ponytail hung artfully against his shoulder. Off his hoodie goes, joining your discarded pajama pants and blazer. 

“Easy, there.” The way he drawls your name has your stomach flipping somersaults. 

“I guess you look fine.” You could burn a hole through him with how hard you were staring.

“Mhm, sure.” A warm palm cups the back of your neck, guiding you into an open-mouthed kiss. Tongue swiping against your bottom lip, pulling a surprised moan from you.

What else can you do but melt into it?

Even though the two of you were urged on by fervent need, there’s an undercurrent of tenderness—something more delicate than your mutual pent-upness—with each graze of your skin against his. You could barely hold a candle to Jamil’s seemingly-innate grace and sensuality, yet he meets each of your tentative touches without pulling away, as if insistent to keep your hands on him too. To keep at least some point of contact on you as much as possible. Your hand dips beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, to palm at his hardening dick.

You’re rewarded with a languid roll of his hips. The painful yet pleasurable scrape of his canine against your lip. That needy sound bubbling up from his throat, only to be swallowed up with another feverish kiss.

You could live in this moment forever.

Until you fall back against the mattress and feel the shaft of your forgotten vibrator digging painfully into the small of your back.

“Ow!”

Jamil’s palm soothes against the pained area. “Are you alright?” 

(You could’ve sworn you felt his clothed erection twitch at the sound you made.)

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you grunt, fumbling blindly for the culprit. Guess you forgot to put it back in your nightstand’s drawer.

Well, you were in a hurry.

Jamil eyes the discarded toy in your hand. “That shade of purple is…a choice.” Yet he accepts it when you pass it to him, telling him to compare it to his own.

Which earns you a flustered huff, no trace of genuine malice in the look he gives you.

“It matches the school colors, doesn’t it? Go, Night Ravens, go…or something…?”

“That is not how the cheer goes.” Your grin widens at the scowl sent in your direction, though his eyes are soft with fond exasperation. “Hand me that.”

 “The lube?” And that too.

Oh, forget your room, you were the mess all along.

(You sneak just a glance at his groin, he’s still sporting a half-erection, so hooray..? There may yet be hope for getting dicked down? Maybe you should have asked him to remove those first…)

“What else?” And he pours a copious amount onto the toy. Drawing your gaze to the way he curls his fingers around the shaft of the thing, how he gives it a slow and obscene pump to coat it with lube, sending a rush of heat through your frame.

“The batteries died, it’s useless.” Still, you spread your legs as he presses the slicked-up tip against your entrance.

Jamil keeps a hand on your knee, eases the vibrator in slowly—even though you’ve been more than sufficiently stretched out with his fingers. “Don’t need it to vibrate to fuck you.” 

Well, there wasn’t much arguing against that logic. “Then, please…please…!”

He adjusts his grip on the base of the toy, accidentally clicks the button as his pace quickens.

What you don’t expect is the sudden pulse of vibrations against your core, you’d snap your legs shut from surprise if Jamil wasn’t keeping you lightly pinned down.

“Mm, that was a nice sound…” The smile on his face is evil. 

“Oh, motherfucker, don’t tell me you’ve got—” Your words taper off into an embarrassingly loud whimper as he presses the vibrator against that sensitive bundle of nerves.

Who’d have thought the thing kept one final spurt of energy, if not to spite you?

“Would you look at that? It still works.” The pressure doesn’t let up, in fact, he’s meeting each desperate buck of your hips, making sure that each thrust brings you closer and closer to that peak you’ve been aching for. 

Your own coherence, on the other hand, is nowhere to be found. A choked sob falls from you, and your abdomen clenches, and—

“That’s right, just let go,” Jamil croons.

In those few moments, the batteries of your vibrator truly and finally breathe their last. It doesn’t stop Jamil from prolonging your release with gentle thrusts. You’re lost in the waves of your orgasm, each motion pulling a high-pitched keen from your throat when it tips into overstimulation. Vaguely, you’re aware of the sparks of pleasure radiating up your frame, the feeling of his free hand interlacing your fingers together.

You didn’t know the touch of another person could also feel so grounding.

“Mmgh…don’t pull it out yet.”

“I wasn’t going to. You’re holding onto it really tightly.” Jamil gives the vibrator a little tap which makes you squirm away from him.

You’re past embarrassment though, letting the sorely-craved happy hormones flow through you. Your nerves have calmed down just enough to pull out the used toy. This time, eliciting a pleased sigh from you.

This time you make sure to set it aside properly.

“...you’re quite the treasure, do you know that?”

There he goes with another of those quiet remarks, making your cheeks burn. “If you said that a while ago, I was too busy coming to hear it.”

“I said, you’re hopeless.” 

“Nooo, say it one more time, at least!”

“Don’t be insufferable.” Even as he says that, Jamil lets you clamber into his lap to cuddle against his chest.

“So…”

“Hm?”

You trail a suggestive palm against his inner thigh. “...would you want me to use my mouth or…”

Surprise flickers over Jamil’s expression, eyes widening for a fraction of a second. “Ready to go again this quickly?” But there was no denying the amusement coloring his voice.

It takes a bit of maneuvering for you to remove your t-shirt. “Well, you haven’t had your fill of stress relief yet.” Jamil’s palms steady themselves on your waist as you properly straddle him.

Were you basically propositioning him to use you as he saw fit? Maybe.

“I’m afraid I’m quite the insatiable type,” Jamil utters, leaning close to you, breath fanning across your lips. Maybe he means it as a warning, you know this reflex. You were guilty of it too, sometimes.

But if he could still look at you with such warmth and tenderness, sentiments you could easily reflect back onto him, then—

“That makes two of us.”

a/n: icb jamil just dodged the impending heart-to-heart talk and just wanted the spicy smuttenings 😤 like that'll stop me from writing more angst and hurt/comfort scenarios. anyways i hope this was an enjoyable read! thanks @jessamine-rose for betaing this with your (slightly less) sleep deprived eyes, your assistance makes editing so much less stressful. to all my readers, thanks for enjoying my silly writing, i hope to bring more this coming 2025!

tagging: @viperwhispered @twstgo @just-a-little-silly @bakedgrape @mama-m1na

@cataclyysmiic (hehe i think ull also enjoy this) @sillystr1ngs @scint1llat3

(lmk if you wanna join the taglist for jamil writing in the replies!)

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

I have a request to make if you’re willing. Platonic yandere lamia shinobu x child reader please.

Yandere Lamia Shinobu Kocho x Child Reader

War is a terrible place for a child

Even if they’re blindly motivated to help the cause

Shinobu has always thought this but she was also aware that desperate times called for desperate

Hence her early employment as a battle field nurse

Through a series of successes and coincidental massacres

She’s earned her position of a commanding general

Instructing her scientists and exploring her power with chemical warfare

All while strategizing for her army against the enemy lines

Being a lamia in this kind of environment was helpful

The muscle gave her the extra edge above her human compatriots 

making her a valuable asset 

One that needed to be contacted frequently

“I-I huff huff am h-here huff huff for Miss Sh’nbu!”

The entire camp practically swooned when they saw the young messenger waddle into camp

There were other young messengers

Much faster

Much more outspoken about their dreams to become a soldier or pilot one day

But not you 

Not you 

“Uh I h-heard this huff helps people. S-so I’ll just try my best.”

When she first met you she immediately wanted to fire you 

You were far too small

Legs too short

And all the huffing you were doing made her nervous

“How was your trip, little (Y/n)?”

"It was uh okay, here’s your letter by the way.”

“...Those cuts on your knees…”

“I just tripped a little, I’m okay!”

But how could she

Even the apathetically smiling mad lamia scientist couldn’t deny you

As soon as you tiredly ended up curling into her 

She’s determined 

Whether she makes you an intern or even an errand runner

She couldn’t leave you in the position you were in

She looks into your parents 

Finding them to be a struggling couple that sent you to work 

It irks her when she convinces you to let her do blood work and she finds so many horrible diseases beginning to sprout

Of course she wants to cure them…

But the medical expenses are so much and your family can’t afford that

“How about we make a deal? If you relinquish your parental rights to me I’ll be happy to care for them.”

If they don’t immediately hand you over she’s going to get a lot less nice

How impudent

A lamia helping the weaker humans and they can’t do this one thing for her

It just proves her right when they begin to mentally decline

And once the proper authorities agree they’re just not fit to be out of an asylum

You’ll be placed in her care

It’s probably even more of a wrecking ball if you’re life if your reading it out

“Young messenger (Y/n), we regret to inform you….oh.”

“There There (Y/n) here have some tea its sure to relax you.”

“Uh thanks Miss Sh’nbu…”

“If you’d like you can call me Mom.”

Whatever refusal you can articulate fades with the floaty feeling that comes after having a sip of her tea

Being the medicinal genius she is she’ll make sure her dearest human baby will have no problem fitting into their new life

Now some of her generals will have noticed

The odd amount of time Kocho spends with the asylum director or the little human she wraps her tail around 

“A war is no place for a child!” They’ll protest

“How can she? Caring for a human child?” They whisper

So with a single whip of her tail and a smile that threatens to disappear 

She holds her sleeping child to her chest

“You’re absolutely right about that one thing. A war is no place to raise a child…therefore I’ll just have to end this one quickly.”

Dictatorship, absorbing other branches of the army, or creating an ultimate weapon that only she can use or even defecting to the other side if necessary

This war will end so she can devote all her time to raising you

You’ve run so far

And you’re just so young

She promises she’ll prioritize your well-being and her happiness with you

[qingyingpocketlirary]

Snapshot 47 Old Adventures.

“Hey, Wukong?” MK called out.

“Yeah Bud?” Wukong answered, lifting himself up to see MK better, watching him point at an old wooden door that had a heavy iron bar bolting it shut.

“What’s in this room?” The boy asked.

“Old memories, Bud.” The Monkey King explained, “and the reminders of my greatest mistakes. I put them away so I didn’t have to keep seeing them when I tried to make things right… It didn’t really help but, at least I know the things in there can’t hurt the little ones anymore.”

“The little ones were hurt?” MK asked, looking at the nearest monkey, who was peacefully dozing in the warm sunshine.

Wukong nodded, gently patting his student’s shoulder. “It was a long time ago, and all the children who were there for it are sleeping now, but some of the little ones today know the stories and it felt wrong to keep the reminders around for them to see and be reminded of the past pains, so I put away everything to do with the Brotherhood of Camel Ridge.”

MK blinked, “I feel like I should know that name.”

“They were three former Heavenly beings, originally from the Buddha realm who were sent to the Jade Court to show good faith and strong unions between the Buddha and Jade Emperor’s Court. Things didn’t go well and they left Heaven to carve a space for themselves in Camel Ridge, a place far to the Northwest of here. Their leader tried to form a Hexigontal Brotherhood with myself, Macaque and Demon Bull King, but it didn’t go the way he wanted.” Wukong explained and clenched his fist tightly.

“Monkey King?” MK asked.

Wukong shook his head. “Sorry bud, it's not something I like talking about out in the open.” he admitted, “Come, we’ll talk about it inside and-” Wukong stopped suddenly.

MK blinked, Wukong didn’t just randomly stop talking for no reason. “What is-”

“Someone’s at the waterfall.” Wukong said, and MK didn’t resist when his mentor moved him to stand behind him, shielding him as one of his clones went to see who was at the entrance.

It was quiet for a time, tense and still, and then a deep voice called out. “I mean no harm to you and yours Sun Wukong. I only came to inform you of something important.”

The little monkeys hurried over to their King and his successor, clinging to MK’s legs and one even clinging to his chest, all of them shaking violently as the voice echoed around the cave, while Wukong himself wore a snarl, his teeth sharp and ready to bite.

“Of all people to deliver a message to me, they send you?” Wukong asked, as MK focused on trying to sooth the frightened little ones, taking off his jacket and gently wrapping it around them all, so they were hidden from sight as he petted their backs, letting them hold tightly to each other and to him. “Has Heaven run out of errand runners?”

“I asked for the honour of speaking to you when Erlang mentioned needing a messenger.” The stranger admitted, and the little ones whined and trembled, curling themselves closer to MK as he softly hushed them, whispering soft assurances they would be ok. “You have long made clear your wish to be left alone by Heaven and all its ilk, and I have no desire to waste time with pretty formalities. I am without my weapons, and I come alone. All I ask is that you allow me into your space so that I may say my piece and I will leave  you and your mountain just as I arrived. Swiftly and without fuss.”

“Xiaotain.” Old Beng’s voice was quiet as a whisper, and with a gentle smile, the old Monkey brought MK and the little ones away from Wukong and into a  drawn circle that formed a barrier. A few minutes later, the clone of Wukong arrived and vanished in a puff of golden smoke, leaving the stranger to stand across from Wukong.

A tiger, MK guessed they were a celestial, given he wore golden armour, and the robes beneath the golden armour looked to be some kind of fine material that was patterned with wooden branches. At the center of the tiger’s chest plate was a black circle, and within that was a white character for number three, and around the circle, placed like the numbers on a clock face were eleven smaller embossed characters. The tiger stood too far away from MK to read them properly, but he did notice that the place where the number three would have been was blank. The Tiger’s aura was bright, and he projected no ill intent or malice as he stood before Wukong, hands lax at his sides, and long tail still behind him. He was without any weapon that could be seen, but didn’t mean anything given the sharp claws MK could see at the tips of the tiger’s fingers, and feet. 

It was obvious there was tension between the newcomer and Wukong beyond the stranger’s Celestial heritage. And when MK looked to Old Beng, he found the old Monkey was also bearing his teeth, though it was to a much lesser degree, given his focus was clothing the still frightened and cowering little monkeys.

“That is Mingjue; The Yin Tiger, third member of the Zodiac. He is one of the twelve Guardians of the Heavenly Realms.” The elder monkey explained. 

“What’s the tension about?” MK asked softly.

“Mingjue’s forge was the source of the molten copper and iron pellets fed to Wukong during his torture before he was entombed in the mountain.” Old Beng told him. “Also, the fact he’s a Tiger just doesn’t sit well with anyone, the tiger demons who once ruled the lower mountain forests were wiped out by Wukong and Macaque centuries ago and since then, no tiger has dared set foot on Flower Fruit Mountain. Until today.”

Oh, yep, MK could see why that would scare the little ones, and why it was aggravating Wukong and Old Beng so much, it was a good thing Macaque wasn’t there, because no doubt that would mean this tiger would be shadow portaled to a high place and dropped into theocean… or a lava pool.

“You have five minutes.” Wukong said, “If what you have to say can’t be said in that time, leave now and send someone else to speak.”

“The Scroll of Memories that you used to imprison Azure Lion, the Golden Winged Peng and Yellow Tusk The Wise was stolen from the Underworld.” Minjue stated and the sound that tore itself from Wukong’s throat was somewhere between a choked snarl and an unbelieving denial. “Heaven has already sent a team to assist in the search, but Erlang Shen insisted that you be made aware of this fact. That is all.” And with a respectful bow, Minglue tapped his tail tip on the ground and in a flash of light, vanished from the cave.

She knew, if she was caught, she’d be done for, but she couldn’t just ignore this awfulness, she had to know the truth and oh stars, what a truth it was to discover as she curled herself up tight in a small space, one hand tightly clapped over her mouth to keep from being heard as she listened and watched the scene before her.

“The Scroll itself is a complex thing, a mixture of sentience, magic and something even, whatever it is, the Ten Kings have never spoken of it and thus, no one knows or fully understands its abilities or nature beyond what we have shared with you.” One traitor explained.

“But you do know the trick of it.” The Lion stated, his voice starting to regain the tone of power and authority it had once held, proof of his increasing power. “You freed me.”

“Yes. What you must do is gather and collect powerful forces in the region within the Scroll, once that is done, the Scroll will allow you to select who you can pull from its hold. But you must be careful, Azure, too much power too soon will weaken the Scroll’s hold on everyone within it and to protect itself, the Scroll will purge itself of all its prisoners.” Another traitor explained and Azure looked at them with a raised brow.

“What do you mean by that?” He questioned them.

“See here, the dulling and fraying of the decorations?” The third traitor reached out and took the Scroll from Azure’s hand, showing him the tassels that had begun to slowly fray and lose their once beautiful cyan colouration. “This Scroll is a thing of the Underworld, that is undeniable. For that reason, it ages and decays when it is outside of the Underworld. The token we gave to you will slow this progress, and the more power it gains from those you will trap within it, the longer it will last. But as with all things, too much power will corrupt and create pressure inside the Scroll’s confines. Let us say that you trap someone such as Ao Bing within this scroll; He alone would be enough to allow you to free both your brothers without causing strain within the Scroll. Do you understand now?”

“If it were so simple, why don't you do such yourselves?” Azure questioned.

“Because it is not so simple.” The third traitor remarked sharply, and opened the Scroll a small way, showing four slides, one blank, one dull with a name he did not recognize and two with the names of his brothers, golden words shining with strange power upon them. “Do you see how their names glow where the fourth name is so dim? How the slide where your name once rested is now blank? You were conscious and aware of yourself within the Scroll, that is why you were so sickly and frail when we drew you from within it. You have lived all these years in a state of only semi awareness of yourself where your brothers are unconscious and unaware of the time that has passed. They have not weakened where you have. We freed you first only because waking you only took a very small amount of power, such that was so easily obtained though a minor addition to the Scroll’s content.”

“Who?” Azure asked.

“A puppet of the now late Lady Bone Demon.” The first traitor said with a dismissive tone. “Without her to guide him, he had been imprisoned in the Underworld and would have stayed, languishing in nothingness. He was of little use to anyone or anything else, so it was decided he would be used to free you.”

“You see now? If you give too much power to the Scroll in exchange for your siblings, the Scroll will purge itself, and we do not mean that the scroll will simply eject the persons it holds. No, it will be a far worse fate.” The second said, shaking their head grimly. 

“It will manifest a being of its own design and set that being to mentally destroy the most powerful beings in the scroll itself. Their bodies will be ejected only when the Scroll can assure itself that they will have no will or thought to damage or break it.” The third concluded and rolled the scroll back up and offered it back to him. “Do you understand now Azure Lion, what you must do to wake your brothers?”

“I do.” He nodded, taking the scroll and she forced herself not to shudder at the realization just how long and how careful the three traitors had been. 

“Good.” The first said, a wickedness in their tone she did not know was possible from one who had always been so kind and so upright in the past. “Then we shall leave you to arrange your side of the plan here in the Mortal realm.”

“And your plans?” He asked as the three of them walked away from his throne room, watching as they began to emit a dim glow as they began to fade away.

“Heaven’s forces will soon face a threat to its far reaches, leaving the Jade Court vulnerable.” The second expressed, so casual and so unlike the loyal soul she’d come to call a sibling for so many centuries. “Such a shame it would be, if someone were to use such an opportunity to strike down the Jade Emperor.”

“We can give you but one chance, Azure Lion.” The third stated. “Do not waste it.”

And they were gone, leaving Azure Lion alone in his throne room at Camel Ridge and her, trapped there until Azure Lion was gone and she could safely flee to tell the others what she’d learnt.

When Chi Yue arrived, it was unusually quiet and still. She walked the pathways she knew by heart with her fan in hand, ready to protect herself. Listening and watching for any sign of what could have brought such a frightened silence upon the normally lively mountain. She reached the waterfall and entered without issue and there she found several newly drawn seals and protections all of them humming with power and stored force that would keep any unwanted and unwelcome persons out. 

“Wukong?” She called out and a wave of power washed over her and in moments, Wukong was in front of her, holding her shoulders and taking a moment to look at her with his golden eyes.

“Are you hurt?” He asked as he checked her over, his tone worried and body stiff with tension.

“No, but I am worried, what is going on?” She asked him and his shoulders sag, heavy with worry and grief while anger pulls his lips back to show his teeth and his eyes burn near red. “Wukong?”

“Come inside, I’ll tell you and MK both.” The Monkey King assured as he led her towards his hut, along the way, she spotted the many tracks of the children in the sandy floor, frantic and rushed, heading towards the Stone Palace.

They reached his hut and the moment she stepped inside, MK hugged her tightly, clearly unsettled and also unsure but unharmed and safe.

“Old Beng?” She asked.

“In the palace, protecting the children.” Wukong said and sank to his knees, rubbing his face. “Mingjue came by today.”

“Why?” She questioned. Of all the Zodiac Guardians, why send the Tiger? Whatever could be so important that Heaven couldn’t spare a thought and send someone else?!

“The Memory Scroll I sealed The Camel Ridge Brotherhood in was stolen from the Underworld. Azure Lion is free.” Wukong relayed and Chi Yue stiffened. “I never told you why I sealed them before, and I know you have never asked, but I promised MK that I would keep no more secrets.” He explained and pulled an black wooden box from the shelf above his collection of books and dusted it off with his hand. “You’re not going to like what you hear,” he warned.

“Tell us anyway.” Chi Yue said, reaching over and gently squeezing the Monkey King’s hand. “If we are to face Azure Lion and his brothers, we need to know what we are getting into.”

Wukong told them.

He told them about the conversations around the dinner table between the two brotherhoods, the skin deep closeness Azure Lion wanted to make deeper but how it had never felt right, how even though Yellow Tusk and Macaque had tried to speak reason, it had taken Chi Yue’s words to fully break through the fog of Azure’s grand planning and clever wording into everyone’s mind. The plan to dethrone the Jade Emperor was put on hold, to allow everyone to better think and plan for the ways to implement and begin the foundations of the change they all wanted to help make the world a better place. 

“It was after your visit that I realised of the six of us, it would be my kingdom that suffered the greatest retaliation if we failed and just how little Azure was actually risking in his efforts. When he came to me again and tried to convince me your words were sly and said to shake my confidence, I finally saw a glimpse of his true nature.” Wukong admitted, clenching his fists tightly and growling as his tail lashed angrily behind him. “A manipulator, desperate for power with no regard for those he must hurt to gain it.”

“Wukong.” Chi Yue said, reaching out again to hold his hands in hers, slowly prying them open so he didn’t hurt himself. “Please don’t hurt yourself.”

“If you knew this, why did you strike out with him?” MK asked. “Why attack Heaven if you knew he was trying to manipulate you?”

“I was tricked. We all were.” Wukong said and explained. “A few weeks after I told Azure I would hear no more talk of the attack on Heaven, Macaque and I were in the middle of a meeting with Yellow Tusk, discussing a trade route between our kingdoms when Demon Bull King burst in with two of the children, bloody and near death in his arms and told us he smelt Heavenly perfumes and blood in the forests and followed the scent to find them. I sent Beng to investigate further while we tended the children. They told us that the people who attacked them wore Heavenly garb, golden helmets that hid their eyes, white robes and strong perfumes of Heaven. When Beng came back, he told us he’d found five other children dead and butchered for their flesh, surrounded by boot tracks from those of the Jade Court.”

“But that can’t be true.” Chi Yue said. “If this was before your attack on Heaven, no one should have been anywhere near your Mountain, much less a hunting party.”

“What do you mean Auntie?” MK asked.

“After I left Flower Fruit Mountain, I wrote to my Master asking permission to visit him so that I could attend for further lessons with him in Heaven, he wrote back and told me the Jade Court was in conflict with something at its outermost reaches and insisted I stay away from the Court for the foreseeable future as it wasn’t safe for me to be up there at that time.” Chi Yue explained. “If there was conflict in Heaven at the time, then most of the Jade Court’s forces would have been focused on that. Hunting of any kind would have been needless time wasted.”

“I know that now.” Wukong said, his voice heavy with guilt and regret. “But back then, we didn’t. I was angry, so angry and so blind that I- I let myself be tricked. I didn’t think about anything but how Heaven had apparently struck out at me and mine, and killed innocent children for nothing but their own satisfaction. And in my anger, I lashed out at the apparent aggressor. The fight did not go as I’m sure Azure wanted it to go and after I was captured, the others fled. You know the rest of that part of the story.”

“Oh Wukong.” Chi Yue sighed and the Monkey King let her embrace him, let his face rest on her shoulder as bitter tears crept into his eyes as she petted down the fur along his head and neck. “You weren’t to blame.”

“I am.” Wukong said, forcing himself to push the memoeirs of the torture, the furnace and then his time in Five Phases Mountain aside and focus on the part of the story he was telling them. “It wasn’t until after I was banished by my Master and returned here that I began to think and consider the matter more. When Azure Lion took my Master and Ao Lie prisoners, Bajie and Wujing came to find me for help, I knew I would get no answer from Azure if I simply asked him. And I couldn’t trust if Peng or Yellow Tusk were involved or not, so I made a deal with Merciful Gaunyin.”

“A deal?” MK asked, his head reeling from the information he was learning.

“I would go back and help my Master reach the West, unharmed and whole. And in return, Merciful Guanyin would ask the Ten Kings to investigate the attack on my Mountain and see if the Camel Ridge Trio were involved at all. The catch was, I would not have my answers or my chance at justice if they were involved until my Master was safely to the end of his journey.” Wukong explained, and put his hand on the black wood box he’d brought down from the shelf. “The Tenth King himself looked into the matter, and when we reached the end of the Journey to the West, I was given these.” 

Within the box was a stained wooden scroll, neatly sealed with a black and blue ribbon and beside it, another scroll, this one made of black wooden strips of wood held together with slim light blue threads, rolled neatly into a coil.

With Wukong’s nod of approval, MK picked up the stained scroll and opened it, finding neatly written characters that were clear and unfaded even with the years that had no doubt passed since they’d been written.

This report is the written finding of an investigation undertaken on behalf of the Merciful Guanyin, as part of a deal between herself and Sun Wukong.

At the request of Sun Wukong, I, the Tenth King of the Underworld, undertook the task of thoroughly investigating and and all involvement on the part of Azure Lion, Golden Winged Peng and Yellow Tusk the Wise in an incident upon Flower Fruit Mountain, in the hours before the six brothers attacked the Jade Court. 

After extensive investigation and multiple reviews of all relevant memories I have come to the following conclusion.

It is undeniable that while knowing and willing in their participation in the plot against the Jade Emperor, both Yellow Tusk the Wise Elephant and The Golden Winged Peng were unaware and uninvolved in the actions that drove Sun Wukong, the Monkey King, to once again storm Heaven.

Azure Lion acted and schemed this trick alone.

Through manipulations of a father in desperate need to feed his family, Azure Lion arranged the deaths of five young Monkeys to be done by a mortal man and his three sons native to the north of the land, in exchange for coin and a home in Camel Ridge. Azure Lion prepared the man and sons with Heavenly perfumes and garbs made from his own Heavenly robes to do the deed. While perhaps not convincing to the eyes of officials and highly ranked individuals, it would not be obvious to humans that these men were not truly of Heaven’s ranks.

Then when the deed was done, Azure Lion saw himself that the father and sons would not speak of their act. The wife and youngest child were spared only because they were unaware of the deed in its entirety, and lived comfortable lives until their own deaths later in life from natural causes. It is clear, even so long after the fact, that Azure Lion has not shared his trick against the Monkey King with the Golden Winged Peng or Yellow Tusk the Wise. All indications show that this was an act Azure Lion believed necessary to force the Monkey King’s hand to act and bring about a new era.

“How dare he?!” Chi Yue demanded in a tone that made MK suddenly very glad he had never been on his auntie’s bad side. He knew she had a temper, he’d heard stories from his parents and more recently from Ao Bing, but to see a glimpse of it now was a jarring moment. Her eyes darkened, her skin rippled like water showing the smallest hints of her power as a halo of water and bubbles began to form around her back. “So help me, when I get my hands on him I’ll-”

“You will not face him alone,” Wukong told her firmly, and Chi Yue’s anger fled for a moment as she looked at him. “Azure Lion is older and stronger than you, even with all you’ve achieved since the early days, you are no match against him in a fight on your own. Promise me Chi Yue, not on your own. I know you are not some helpless maiden, I won’t insult you by suggesting it. But even with all your skill and power now, you are no match for him on your own. So please, for my piece of mind, promise me you will not try and fight Azure Lion on your own.”

There was a moment of tension between them, then Chi Yue nodded. “Fine, I won’t fight him on my own. But if he comes near my family, any of them, so help me I will call in every favour I’m owed to see him dead for what he did.”

“I will not stand in your way.” Wukong agreed and turned to MK. “That includes you too bud, no matter how confident you feel, Azure Lion is not someone you face on your own.”

“I won’t, but, how will I know him if I see him? Does he have a glamour like Macaque and the Spider Queen?” MK asked.

“No, Azure never bothered to learn such a trick, he is a Celestial Lion, blue fur with a yellow mane and magenta eyes, he goes by many names but the one he answers to is The Azure Lion or simply Azure. I don’t have any pictures of him to show you.”

“Got any crayons and spare paper?” MK asked. “Describe him to me and I’ll doodle. It's how I make most of the artwork for my sketch book.”

Wukong tore two strands of hair from his head and they shifted forms into a box of coloured crayon and a sheet of paper. While Wukong described Azure and Mk worked to make his image, Chi Yue sent a text to the groupchat.

Mei blinked as she heard her phone buzz with a new message, Ao Bing looked to see what had caused her to stop paying attention to their lesson and watched her check her phone.

TeaAuntie; New threat active. Until further notice, check ins every  hour, on the hour.  No arguments.

A moment later Sandy texted a question.

Tea’n’CatUncle; Who or what?

TeaAuntie; Azure Lion.

“Who is Azure Lion?” Mei asked and Ao Bing felt the colour draining from his face.

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

Am I rewriting season 4 to fit more with my own story? Yes. Yes I am.

Keep an eye out for a new history lesson post if you wish to know more about Mingjue and the other Zodiacs and how they'll fit into A Very Broken World.

Enjoy!!!!!!

[theroseredreaper]

hey hey sorry to bother you with another request

I'm having a really bad day with anxiety and so I was wondering if you could do a thing about Sebek, Vil, and Leona and helping the reader handle their anxiety/calm down when it gets too intense?

sorry to add more onto your requests and you don't have to do it if you don't want to of course. Anyway take your time and remember to take care of yourself please Mimi

It’s not a bother at all! I’m sad to hear that you’re having a bad anxiety day and I hope that this can bring you some comfort. I’m more than happy to write this for you, Ryker. And yes, I’ll remember to take care of myself too. <3

Brief Trigger Warning, as per the request: This piece includes the reader in various states of anxiety and panic, and describes the beginnings of different kinds of panic attacks.

Sebek Zigvolt, Vil Schoenheit, & Leona Kingscholar Helping An Anxious Reader

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek paused from his studying at the sudden stop of the soft scratching of your pencil on paper across from him. He took in the tense set of your shoulders with a frown, eyes searching your face, only to find you completely unfocused and staring blankly at your homework.

You were spiraling again, weren’t you?

“Human.”

He cleared his throat at your flinching, scooting closer to gently pry the pencil from your trembling fingers.

“Are you alright?” His voice was now softer, attempting to make his volume a soothing murmur. “You’ve stopped working.”

He kept his eyes on you to keep track of your reactions, reaching out to give your hand a reassuring squeeze at the shaky inhale you gave him. When you were unable to give him a further response, throat too stopped up with anxiety, he gently rubbed his thumb against your knuckles to reassure you.

“Is it your classes again?” He glances at your half finished homework, giving your hand another squeeze. “Worry not!” He attempts to offer you a smile, not in the practice of being brightly reassuring like your other friends might be. “Classes are simply another form of training! I’m quite adept at mathematics and alchemy; any help you should need, we’ll cover all your bases together!”

His smile relaxed at your subtle nod, glad to see that you were beginning to calm down. He gave your hand one more squeeze before letting go of your hand to give you back your pencil.

If it is not your classes that you are worried about,” he began, trailing off for a moment before looking back up at you to return your gaze, voice a touch unsure, “I am more than ready to lend you my aid. Whenever you need it.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Vil Schoenheit

You turned a corner, only to find that it was the exact same as the last three you had walked down. The same stained glass windows, the same carpet runner, the same vases and wainscoting in an endless maze all around you. Why hadn’t you accepted Epel’s offer to guide you through Pomefiore before he left for Spell Drive practice? Where was Rook, or even any other Pomefiore student, to ask for directions? Why had you even accepted this stupid errand from Crowley anyways?

Just as the hallway was beginning to stretch before you into an endless tunnel and your breaths were turning into short, shallow, gasps, a pair of hands gripped you by the shoulders and anchored you back to reality by the strength of them holding you close. The hands belonged to Vil, who looked down at you with a frown. His eyes searched your face, brows pinched with the severity of his concern.

“You got lost, didn’t you?”

You could only helplessly nod, light headed and unfocused. His eyes narrowed and he tsk’ed at you, stepping back so that he could wrap an arm around your back to guide you from the hallway and to his bedroom. He directed you to sit on the chaise in front of his bed as he left for a moment before he returned with a glass of cool water.

“Sip slowly,” he instructed. “And match my breathing.”

He sat beside you, placing a hand on your lower back to silently encourage you to straighten up and ease your shoulders as he began to slow his breathing for you to match. His fingers traced idle, nonsensical patterns on your back in soothing repetitive as he breathed in and out with you. He stayed beside you even after your breathing had regulated, eyes on you to ensure that you finished the glass of water.

“Have you calmed down now?” He waited for a nod, and pressed a kiss to your forehead when he received one. “Good. Now, what was this errand you were sent on?”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Leona Kingscholar

You and Leona were seated in Ramshackle’s living room, settled in for a quiet afternoon of friendly chess matches and snacks to pass the time. Or rather, the two of you were trying to do that, but were constantly interrupted by the incessant buzzing of message notifications coming from your phone. Even though your free time in between classes and all the errands Crowley had you running for him were scarce, everyone you had met and aided on campus up til now would constantly be sending you messages in search of your help with menial tasks.

After the tenth message in under a minute had your breath hitching and dropping a bishop, Leona plucked your phone from the table to silence it, exhaling a sigh through his nose. He’d often argue with you sometimes about your proclivity to help these selfish students that took from your precious free time with no regards to you, but today, before he could open his mouth to make a comment on the selflessness that grated on his nerves because it meant you were always putting others before yourself, he was stopped short by the look upon your face.

Your brows were furrowing as you bit your lip in an attempt to stave off a hot flush of tears from overcoming you, arm outstretched as if you weren’t really sure if you actually did want to take back your phone from him to answer those messages begging for your help.

Leona scowled and put the phone down, out of reach from you.

“Stop that. You’ll give yourself a headache,” he admonished, no bite to his words as he reached over and soothed the furrow between your brows with his thumb. “You gotta let yourself slow down. All this runnin’ in circles that everyone’s havin’ you do is gonna make you crash and burn. Got that?”

He waited for you to give him a nod that you at least heard what he said before he pushed aside the chess board to pull you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you securely.

“They’ve been handlin’ everything just fine without you runnin’ around, bendin’ over backwards for ‘em. Today won’t be any different. You’ve earned some rest. So relax, yea? I’m right here with ya.”

(A/N): I hope you enjoyed and that this was able to bring you some comfort, Ryker! I apologize in advance if any of these characters felt OOC.

[the-immersion-excursion]

Can I Go Where You Go? (Forever and Ever)

༉‧₊˚✧(wedding)

༉‧₊˚✧(one-shot)

༉‧₊˚✧(big island mike x reader)

༉‧₊˚✧(no smut)

❀´ ¸.☆¸.✿¸.•°”˜ƸӜƷ˜”°•.•.¸ღ¸☆´ ¸.✿´´¯`•.¸¸.❀´ ¸.☆¸.✿¸.•°*”˜ƸӜƷ˜”*°•.•.¸ღ¸☆´ ¸.✿´´¯`•.¸¸.

The waves called to you, their overlapping cries drowning out any other thought you might have had. Closing your eyes, you listened, waiting to hear more of their song. The melody was entrancing, small drops ringing high pitches, along with the low rumble as the wave stretched across the warm sands. Though it was not clear yet, you waited for a sign.

Then, you felt an arm around your waist. A strong, masculine arm. You felt a male presence, such a male presence, to your right. You saw his silky black ponytail before you saw his face, which you couldn’t see from this angle due to your neck not turning all the way.

“Y/N…” Said Big Island Mike, a sensual purr into your ear.

“Bim…”

He nuzzled his face into your hair. “Enjoying the sea?”

“Always.”

“Good.”

You reached up, stroking the deeply conditioned ends of his hair as it cascaded along your shoulder.

“You know, it’s bad luck to see the Big Island Bride before the wedding,” you say, intaking the smell of his conditioner. Coconut, with lime and mango scents mixed in.

“Ah, but Y/N, we make our own luck. Our own Big Island Destiny.”

“You’re right, Bim…” You turn around, looking into his warm brown eyes. “You’re always right.”

You stood on your toes to kiss him, but he put a finger on your lips.

“Wait just a bit more. After you walk down the aisle. After we say our Big Island Vows.”

You had to keep yourself from chuckling as you set your heels back down on the grains of sand. “Fine. I’ll wait.”

The bridal party, which included Pua (a bridesmaid), Dr. Quigley Kim (another bridesmaid), and your best friend, Nancy Drew (maid of honor). Nancy helped you do your hair while Pua did your makeup and Quigley talked about bugs.

“So I said to him, ‘No, you don’t know what an Appalachian Green Toed Beetle looks like,’ and he kicked me out of the bar!”

“For being smarter than him?” Asked Pua, taking a break from putting on your blush. “What a total dweeb.”

“Major dweeb,” said Nancy, pinning some of your (hair color) hair.

Quigley crossed her arms. “Exactly. I eventually set five-thousand ants free in his bar. He was nearly eaten alive.”

“By the ants?” You ask.

“No, by the customers who were mad he was responsible for the ants being there because he kicked me out for being smarter than he was.”

“Oooooh,” all three other women said in unison, including you.

Then, there was a knock at the door. You all looked up to the door and watched as a man in a yellow suit walked in. A hazmat suit. From the Hili Hili Research Center. He was an employee there and owed Big Island Mike a lot of money so he was working it off as an errand runner for the wedding. The hazmat suit was the best clothing he had.

“Excuse me, ladies, but it’s about five minutes until the wedding starts!”

“Thank you!” You all said, again, in unison.

Within those five minutes, Pua had finished your makeup, Nancy had finished your hair, and Quigley had named all the bugs she'd accidentally eaten. Now… It was time for the wedding dress.

It was beautiful, colorful, and perfect for a Big Island Wedding. It wasn’t white, that was too cliche for you. You were quirky, different, not like other Big Island Girls. Your dress was made of recycled Hawaiian shirts from various thrift shops all around the Big Island World. It was a sweetheart neckline with frills, and a shaped bodice that went down into a V waist. The skirt was full-length, a Big Island Train behind it, and flowers dotted the fabric. Pua had sewn them onto the gown herself. And the petticoat underneath? Chiffon, with colors for every shave ice flavoring at the Immersion Excursion. And to top it all off? Your shoes were Converse sneakers, painted with the face of your future husband, Big Island Mike.

“Are you ready?” Asked Nancy.

You nodded. “Yes. I am Big Island Ready.”

All four of you walked out and down the path to the beach, where the wedding was taking place. There wasn’t assigned seating, so everyone was on either side of the aisle, no matter if they knew the bride or groom. And down the aisle, at the end, in the opening after the audience ended, was him… Was… Bim. Big Island Mike. Your true love.

The bridal party went first, and then it was your turn.

As you walked down the aisle, everyone turned their heads. They gasped as they saw your wedding dressed, and then gasped again when they saw your shoes.

Big Island Mike locked eyes with you. You giggled to yourself, seeing his tuxedo, which was in the same print as his normal Hawaiian shirt.

“Oh, Bim,” you whispered to yourself. “Never change.”

You finally were at the Big Island Altar with Big Island Mike, and the Big Island Officiant opened his Bimble and looked upon the crowd.

“Alright. Now we may begin.”

He cleared his throat and began.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the Big Island Marriage of these two people. A Big Island Life Partnership, with all that entails. Through their days knowing each other, they have grown together in love and friendship, and find now that it suits them best to go on as Big Island Husband and Big Island Wife. And now… The vows.”

He turned to Big Island Mike, awaiting his words.

“I, Big Island Michael Mapu, promise to Big Island Cherish you, Y/N, until the day I Big Island Die. I promise to always know your favorite flavors, as you know mine, and to always be the Best Big Island Husband I can be. I love the way you [something that you like to do] and how you smile at me when you finish. I love the way you make silly faces after spilling cookie batter on the floor. I love the way you quote The Office nonstop at family gatherings. I love… No. I Big Island Love You.”

Then, the officiant turned to you.

“I, Y/N, promise to Big Island Love you for the rest of my days. I will always know your favorite flavors, your favorite shells, your favorite fish, and I will be a lifelong companion to you until the day I Big Island Die. But I do have one question. Can I go… Where you go? Forever and ever? Because I don’t want to ever leave your Big Island Side. I want to be with you. For Big Island Eternity.”

“Yes… Always yes, Y/N.”

You both turned to the officiant, who had a smile on his face.

“I now pronounce you, Big Island Man and Big Island Wife. You may Big Island Kiss the bride.”

And he did. He took you into his Big Island Arms and dipped you, then kissed you until you both had to breathe. The audience all clapped and cheered and whooped.

“I love you, Bim.” You said, a hand on his cheek.

“And I love you,” he said. “Mrs. Bim.”

And you both lived happily ever after in Big Island Mike’s Immersion Excursion.

[squiddaloo]

Angel (Preview?)

AN: I honestly dont know what I want to do with this. Continue it? Make it a series? A one-shot? Leave it at that? I decided to post what I had and let whoever bothers to read and comment decide so 👍 enjoy i guess

~

[UNFINISHED, UNEDITED STORY PIECE]

~

You were not entirely sure what HYDRA had planned for you. Originally, you were the one who heard orders and made them happen. From fake documentations and disguises to get away vehicles and ‘the exit is on the right at the end of the hall’. You did not excute orders. That was for the Assets. You simply made the impossible possible. Years ago, you were charged with guiding HYDRA’s favourite toy-The Winter Soldier-on whatever dirty deeds they desired. And when that toy cut communications and went AWOL, you were left to kick your feet while you waited for a HYDRA opperative to execute you now that you had expended your use. It was a surprise when you had been given orders for small jobs no one really cared about. A coffee delivery, the heater broke again, why is my schedule not printed in color, the break room is out of chips. Some time later, you were put to sleep, only to wake up a short period later in a different facility with the same orders. Coffee, repair, paperwork, restock. Then again, sleep, coffee, repair, paperwork, restock, sleep, coffee, repair, paperwork, restock, sleep-

Were you still even working for HYDRA anymore? You had obviously lost all clearance to any named or important files. For all you know, they couldve sold you to a washed out company as a payless errand runner for the past several years. HYDRA had been reduced to a blury fever dream buried under your memories.

That is, until the Winter Soldier knocked on your apartment door one evening. Several years slammed into you in one second, knocking the air from your lungs.

The male shifted uncomfortably under the weight of your wide-eyed stare and cleared his throat. “I’m Bucky.”

“Soldat?” The term slipped from your lips like whisps of smoke, airy and silent.

He squeezed his eyes shut and his jaw tensed as if hearing it had physically pained him.

You rushed out an apology upon seeing his reaction and ushered him inside, followed by three more apologies.

Bucky was a far-cry from the Winter Soldier. He was a man sitting on your couch beside you, awkwardly fiddling with the glass of water in his hand and looking anywhere but you. He was no longer the machine posed still like a gargoyle, awaiting your input, devoid of any emotion or thought.

He took a deep breath before he started. “I am no longer the Winter Soldier. I’m James Bucky Barnes and you’re part of my efforts to make amends.”

You were not fooled by the careless fake smile he sent your way, likening the attempt to a limpy wet dog.

“I remember you,” He quickly pushed through the awkward silence. “You were…so out of place at HYDRA. You made the world a fraction lighter on my shoulders once in a while. It was more…bareable.”

A song from the 40’s played in the distant corner of your mind. You had never heard it before, but you prayed Bucky might have. That it might have been something he listened to back in his time before enlisting. Or at least before he fell off that damn train. You remember getting into a light arguement with one of the scientists, insisting you wanted to listen to music while you worked and he was asleep anyway so he would not hear it and remember. The scientist had reluctantly bought your lie when your boss entered the room with a new assignment.

“I didn’t want you to…” You pause, unsure what words you are looking for. “…get lost completely. James had to be completely restrained and buried. HYDRA wanted him erased completely, but I believe that the Winter Soldier wouldn’t be as threatening without him. Or, at least, his conscious. You can’t leave someone with lasting pain without understanding pain yourself, yknow?”

“But why?” Bucky’s brows scrunched. “Why go through that effort? You don’t seem like a violent person. Never have.”

“‘Cause I’m not. I don’t wish violence on people either, but I understand that in specific circumstances, violence is the only language that is understood. The only option, even. I don’t always agree with HYDRA’s motivations either. But sometimes we have the same goal or motivation.”

“But what about the times you didn’t agree? Why didn’t you leave?”

You shrugged lightly. “HYDRA’s family. Mom and Dad were both HYDRA so it wasn’t very hard for HYDRA to control everything. Getting away wasn’t exactly an easy feat and I never have gotten any kind of leverage to use as a safety net if things fell through.”

“And now?”

“I don’t really know. When you went MIA, I waited for them to silence me, but instead they just turned me into the errand runner. Put me to sleep and transfered me between locations when I wasn’t needed anymore. I’ve been relocated so many times, I don’t even know if the company I work for is even HYDRA anymore. I haven’t made any effort to find out because I don’t think I even want to know the answer.”

“That…doesn’t sound like HYDRA.”

You nodded solemnly.

“They must have plans for you. Or at least, you’re too important to get rid of.”

“And I don’t wanna know the answer to either of those because they can’t be good.” You stood abruptly to put an end to the current topic.

Bucky, seeming to have caught the hint, quickly followed with a new question. “I remember you having wings…?”

You snorted, busying your hands by refilling your water glass. “From all the times I stuck my neck out on the chopping block for you, that’s what you remember about me?”

You see Bucky shuffle out of the corner of your eye. You open your mouth to speak and turn to face him, only for your voice to immediately die out. The super soldier was inches away, your nose nearly bumping his chest. Was he always this tall?

“I remember everything, but in my memory, you’re my guardian angel. And you’re exactly like I remember.”

What the hell were you supposed to say to that?

[mk-wizard]

Fantastic Four Will Explore Gender Politics With Sue Storm Confirms Vane...

Ok, I have step in say this because I am a home maker, a wife and mother, and I have had enough of women like me being made out to be the example of what a woman who is a loser is:

What would any of us including other women be if it was not for the love, care, attention and devotion of our mothers who were most likely home makers themselves or at least the ones at home devoting themselves to us? We are not the failures of womankind. We are MOTHERS and that is an honorable thing to be if not heroic. Also, running a home is NOT easy. It is a full time job and it takes hard work to do it right. In fact, I get up at the same time as my husband does every morning at 6:00 to 6:30, and unlike him, my job doesn’t stop until our son goes to bed at 7:30 at night sometimes. And 90% of the time, I am he errand runner, the grocery shopper, the meal prepper, the cleaner, the gardener and the one who takes my son to every single one of his appointments. The only one I don’t take him to is the barbershop because my husband and him go get their haircuts done together and it’s their time together that they enjoy.

Dear Hollywood, you are not standing up for women when you go this far and label women like me as “losers” and “passive”. You’re insulting us to the point of cruelty and you are shaming us for being responsible and selfless. Plus, you are misguiding the next generation of women into thinking they need to perpetually dominate men or each other, be alone and avoid having kids like the plague to get ahead and be happy. Also, you encourage them to take up toxic behavior like walking out on their families if the already have families which might I add that back in the day when men did it, it was considered as scummy.

This needs to stop and for goodness sake, leave characters who aren’t broken alone. And yes, this extends to the male ones too. If you don’t like them the way they are, choose another character who fits your narrative.

Sue Storm wasn’t broken. She was happy, surrounded by love, supported and uplifted by all the men in her life, and already an iconic heroine.

PS: Appreciate the loving mother who was there and still is because if you ask me as a lady in her 40s who has been through enough of the waves to form an opinion, SHE is the type of woman that needs to make a comeback. The woman who loves and protects.

[rebornologist]

I’m nominating Basil for the nation’s boyfriend this year because...

He's perfect and unproblematic and wonderful. He is who I mean when I say "not all men". The bar is no longer subterranean with him. The old Japanese dialect is not an ick for you. Please just give my thoughts the time of day.

He absolutely adores watching historical dramas with you, and will spend free days cuddling under soft blankets on the couch with entertainment from the cheesiest soap-opera trope-ridden shows. The only annoying thing about watching these shows with him is that he’s a straightforward and solution-driven man. He always goes off mumbling about how things would not have spiraled out of control in the show if people communicated and weren’t like, evil and weird about it. That gives you fodder to rant to him about how the shows are stupid and that you have no idea why the two of y’all are so hooked on them. The two of you do have a ton of inside jokes as a result.

“So.. [y/n], what sayest thou is.. the Japanese they speak in this show is not the modern dialect?” You nearly spit out your tea as you fought back the bout of laughter at his realization, and soon you were guffawing at the top of your lungs, feet kicking into the air as you doubled over into his lap in happy hysterics.

Speaking of being in his lap, I think he smells like barley tea and rice flour and warm, freshly washed and sun-dried cotton. There are some evenings where he's finishing paperwork and he would allow you to take a nap in his lap as he shuffles through the files and forms. He smells so good y’all please throw your arms around him, pull him close, and get the biggest hit of pure warmth and comfort. I would sleep like a baby in his presence fr.

He would be the perfect boyfie because he’s a professional errand runner. Studying into the AM or working overtime? Schedule permitting, he’s on his way with a soft warm hug, a blanket, a sweet treat, and your favourite snacks.

He makes a mean matcha or hojicha latte, and makes them pretty regularly for you as your daily dose of caffeine (unless you don’t do caffeine, in that case.. he would simply learn how to perfect your morning drink of choice).

Basil loves quality time, but y’all absolutely cannot have it all because he’s so busy and overworked. He handles it like a champ, surprisingly, and complains very little (if at all) about work, but you do notice that he falls asleep nearly instantly when he comes back to you after being away.

There is nothing in the world more comforting than laying his head in your lap or on your chest and wrapping his arms around you, snuggling close and feeling your fingers threading through his flaxen locks, smoothing them out, fiddling with split ends, and massaging his scalp. You’re always the first one to nag him (playfully) about his bangs getting long again and asking him what he intends to do with his hair now that it’s gotten to that length.

He’s the one I’d totally pin as more traditionally romantic, like, writing love letters and leaving them by your pillow, with your morning tea/coffee, slipping it into your work bag before he leaves for another excruciating span of time, and of course, sending them your way while he’s away.

If you want an offline bf, he is the one, babes. He cannot wrap his head around social media, and upon thinking about it, begins to ponder the negative psychological effects of observing the self and being constantly pressured to present the self and one’s brand online. He's not against other people being online and having social media, but he's the kind of guy that texts like a boomer and doesn't know what a meme is. He will absolutely like and comment on your instagram posts (or allow you to like and comment on your own posts from his device) if asked.

He didn’t know what memes were until Iemitsu started sending them in their correspondence (and Iemitsu sends the most outdated memes from like 2000 that nobody thought they would ever see again in their lifetime). Now the closest thing to a meme you’re getting from Basil is a photo of some samurai painting from the history museum and a follow-up text message, “me when I’m away from my wife/husband/spouse because I am fighting for honor and glory in the war” like HELP???!! WHO IS THIS?!?!

However, he loves photography. There’s something very valuable to him about immortalizing a moment through photos, but he isn’t a “the camera eats before we eat” kind of guy, he’s the guy that likes to take pictures of waterfalls and cool native plants and rare birds to commemorate his adventures. It's the best way to keep a piece of a space while leaving no trace.

He keeps a journal and shares some of the entries with you during your quality time together. He likes to save fallen leaves or flowers from different regions that he comes across, being mindful to press them dry and make sure that he isn’t moving plant pathogens around in his nostalgia notebook.

Basil is really good with his hands and is fairly skilled at dexterity-based crafts such as weaving, calligraphy, and he absolutely excels at origami. He would never tell you this, (because he has his fair share of secrecy due to the nature of his work, and the weight of his human heart, of course) but he folds up some of his failed poems to you in the complex origami that he gives you. He knows that you would never unfold his work, so in a way, he gets to deliver the half-baked expressions of his feelings about you without the vulnerability and potential embarrassment of how impossible it is to put into words (as eloquently as he would like, anyway).

ok thank u for reading my 900 word Basilicum/You pitch. Basil for The Nation's Bf 2024 ♡ ♡ Basil for National BF Day 2024 that is my message good night xx

lil nsfw hc utc.

Service top Basilicum I’m sorry y’all he’s such a giver and so so so so sweet and patient and attentive about it please help us lord I absolutely love the concept of him hovering over his love as he rocks his hips slowly into them, reveling in every soft mewl and gasp and whimper that escapes them as they squirm and wrap their legs around his waist.

His heart might actually burst when you catch the stray strands of his long bangs slipping into his face and tuck them behind his ear, holding his face lovingly as you gaze up at him. Man, you love it so much when he comes home.

[valora-pandora]

Generally Not Working

This beautiful Library of Ruina fanfic is dedicated to @aotaku12, a dear friend of mine who had given me permission to use her LoR nuggies to make a fanfic of! Well then, happy reading!

Another slow day in the floor of General Works. This floor that actually belongs to lady Angela. But as her errand runner (and actual servant), the task of managing the librarians of this floor goes to Roland as Angela does more… ‘Important’ work. But because he’s her personal errand runner, it seems like he doesn’t have time to manage the floor anymore. This leaves his two librarians to lay around in the library, bored out of their minds. “Haah… What a waste of time… There’s nothing for us to do around here…” Wetherby said. A librarian with short grey hair and blue eyes. She looks like the type of person to not care about anything and is bored of everything. That’s because she is. Smoking on a cigarette, she laid down on the couch with the face of absolute boredom.

“Yes! What is with Lady Angela lately? Ever since the other floors open, we haven’t gotten a single guest in… in… I don’t know how long! Does she really think so little of us?!” Cirrus, another librarian of this floor, whined in frustration. Cirrus also has grey hair, but compared to Wetherby, their hair is much longer and tied in two identical braids. Their eyes kept closed to give a rather arrogant look.

“Ugh… Stop screaming, you’re bursting my ear drums. Honestly… why did I ended up getting paired with you anyway?” Wetherby sighed, taking another breath on her cigarette. “How would I know? I would let you know, I am better of doing all of this work myself! I’m sure Lady Angela will bring me the highest of praises for all my efforts!” Cirrus seems to be praising themselves now… How curiously different these two are. And yet, in battle, they are a perfect duo. Even Angela will admit that. Alas, they can’t seem to get along outside of battles though.

“Your Efforts?” Wetherby scoffed. “I was here way before you did… Ugh… Seriously… I need a raise…” Cirrus, surprised by Wetherby’s words, turned to her with a shocked look on their face. They ran up to her, grabbed her on the shoulders and starts shaking her. “We… We get paid?!” Wetherby tried to speak up, but each sound she makes is immediately muffled by the constant shaking Cirrus is doing.

“What are you two doing?!” The sudden shout of a familiar voice rang out. Immediately, Cirrus drops Wetherby’s shoulders, causing her to drop on to the floor (They had shook her so hard they completely missed the couch). “S-Sir Roland! We were just… uh…” Cirrus stammered at Roland’s mere presence. As much as the two constantly mock him, it is to their understanding that Roland is still in a higher position than the both of them.

“Wow… I’m fine, thanks for asking…” Wetherby’s sarcastic remark cuts off Cirrus’ stammer as she hoists herself back up with the help of the couch. Though seeing Wetherby reminded Cirrus what they were pestering Wetherby about. With this newfound memory, Cirrus lunges at Roland, the very same way they had lunged at Wetherby and proceeds to shake him too. “S-Sir Roland! Is it true that we get paid?!” But with the amount of shaking, Roland can’t answer their question either. “Are you really that dumb…? I meant that as a figure of speech… We don’t actually get paid… geez…” Wetherby sighed again and picks up a new cigarette to enjoy. Her old one was dropped to the floor when Cirrus shook her and she’s too lazy to pick it back up. She put the newly lit cigarette in her mouth and laid back again on the couch.

“You can stop shaking the poor man now…” With that, Cirrus dropped Roland too, and he crashed to the floor. “Geez. Give me a warning next time. And stop smoking! The books will get burned! Then I’ll be scolded by Angela again… Geez… I swear… what’s up with you two??” Roland complained, standing up while rubbing his sore butt. “I’m so sorry, Sir Roland! It’s just… We have absolutely nothing to do!!! It feels like forever…” Cirrus is now like a sulking child, begging to their parents. “I don’t like agreeing, but the arrogant dude is right. We have nothing to do…” Wetherby piped up lazily from the couch. “What?!” Cirrus looks at Wetherby, fuming with rage at her name for them.

Meanwhile, Roland just looks at the two of them with a dumbfounded look. “You both know… It’s only been an hour… right?” Cirrus looks at their, technically, leader with a shocked look on their face. “But… It feels like forever?!” Wetherby slapped Cirrus and they flew across the room. “Stop screaming in front of my face… Geez…” Roland gave up at this point as the two just continued to argue back and forth.

“Roland? I have sent new invitations for…-“ Oh, they’re in for it now. The moment that voice rang out in the whole floor of General Works, the two librarians stopped immediately. “What… is going on here?” And there she is, the true master of this floor. “L-Lady Angela! W-what… brings you here…?” Cirrus tries to act calm, trying to save what’s left of their dignity. “Angela… this isn’t what it looks like-“ Roland tried to save them. But it looks exactly what it looks like. Librarians not doing their work, one smoking, the other shouting, and their leader, doing absolutely nothing to stop this. “Roland…? What is the meaning of this??”

Roland stammers, trying to find an answer. He looks behind him to try and get his librarians to help. But alas, the two had fled the room in fear. Well, actually Wetherby just fast walked her way out. This left Roland alone with the frightening Angela. It’s usually not this bad talking to her. But when your underlings decided to say heck with the rules, you, as the leader, gets the short end of the stick. Roland got his punishment for something he didn’t do, and the two librarians continued on with whatever they were doing in another area of the library. They never got the action they were craving so much after that.

Honestly? I have no idea what I was doing with this one... But my friend told me it was good. Not to mention quite accurate because the floor of General Works was never touched after the other floors opened lol. Well, hope you all enjoyed it anyway. With that, I bid you all goodbye.

Valora Out~!