#Repairing cracked stone | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

xoxolilixx · 21 days ago

Text

★𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙠𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙤𝙣𝙚★

𝙀𝙠𝙠𝙤 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

✩𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 - you help Ekko relax a little

✩𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙨 - Smut with plot, fingering, oral(reader receiving)

✩𝙖𝙪��𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - heyyyy😅 ik it's been a while, I kinda disappeared off the face of the earth, MY BADDDDD😁 I figured since I've been gone for a good second, I should come back with a treat, so here you are lovebugs❤️ I hope you guys like it🩷🌺

Sweat trickled down his forehead as he worked. He was hunched over his desk, hands aching and mind clouded as he continued his repairs to his hoverboard. It was late –3 am to be exact– and Ekko’s been sleepless since the battle on the bridge with Jinx. You were worried about him. You knew how stressful this was for him; between failing to save his former best friend and making sure everything stays afloat with the firelights, he was basically drowning in his work and stress. Ekko was a relatively calm person, but whenever you tried to talk to him about everything, he would just shut down and push you away, so you learned to give him space, but tonight you couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m surprised you haven’t frozen to stone like that,” you spoke softly, not wanting to startle him. His workshop door was cracked open and all the lights except for the one that sat right above his desk were dimmed. “...you should be asleep,” he whispered, not looking up from his work. His voice was weary and tired, you could hear the stress in his voice, it made your heart crack. “So should you, love,” your voice stayed soft, calming. The last thing you wanted was to be another harsh thing in his life right now. “The bed misses you,” you joked softly as you came up behind him, your soft hands landing on his shoulders. They were tense, his whole body was, and the tenseness didn’t falter when you touched him like how it usually did. “I’ll be there soon,” he uttered. “How soon? By the end of the month? Because I haven’t seen you in bed in 3 weeks,” you were sincere with a half joking tone as your hands gently ran down his body as you hugged him from behind, “I miss you baby…just…come on for tonight, get some rest. It’ll be here in the morning- I’ll even come in and help you with it,” you pleaded softly, your lips against his neck as you eyed his work from his shoulder. You didn’t want him to open up before he was ready, you didn’t want to push his limits, and you didn’t want to bitch to him about how closed off he’s been, you just wanted him to get some rest.

He sighed at your words, his hands pausing their movements for just a small moment, “Just-...let me finish this up, okay?” he uttered, his tone slightly softer than before. You huffed as you felt him lean into your arm, planting a small kiss on your upper arm as he started working again. You knew him, he wasn’t going to come to bed any time soon, he would just magically find something else that needed his attention and forget all about getting rest. “You’re helpless, you know that?” you huffed out against the shell of his ear, “your whole workshop is gonna be renovated before you come to bed.” He could hear the slight irritation in your words as you removed your touch from him, it made him tense up more. He knew you were being patient with him, and knowing that he was making it harder for you somehow made him feel worse than the stress did.

“Wait,” he uttered out before you got too close to the door. You immediately turn around, as if it was a reflex, “yes Ekko?” “...c’here,” he uttered, his hands abandoning his work as he looked over his shoulder. You didn’t fight the urge to walk back over to him. Soon, you were standing in between his legs and his hands were on your hips. “I’m sorry baby,” he sighed, his hands giving a loving squeeze to your body. His stress seemed to melt away the more you were around him, and you loved that, but constantly trying to get him to melt was frustrating, so you wanted to milk this as much as you could.

“Prove it,” you huffed, feigning irritation as you crossed your arms. For the first time in a while, he cracked a smile, chuckling as he immediately picked up on your game. “You want me to prove that I’m sorry?” he chuckled, his hands running up your waist, pushing up your (his) shirt as he did so. “Yea,” you huffed, your act almost breaking as he tugged you down on his lap, making you straddle him. “And tell me princess, how do you want me to do that?” he smirked as your hands rested on his shoulders as his hand gently grabbed your chin, running his thumb across your bottom lip. “Surprise me,” you smiled, finally breaking your act. It felt like he was a magnet, slowly pulling you closer, the space in between you closing at a steady pace. “Surprise you, huh? I got you~” he uttered before pressing his lips into yours.

This was the quickest you’ve ever seen Ekko forget about a project. Your lips danced with his as his hands roamed your body, running from your waist to your hip down to your thighs before finally resting on your ass, his hands giving it a soft squeeze. Your hands weren't much different; running from his shoulders down his chest to his abs and then back up to his blonde locs. It didn't take long for all restraint to disappear once his tongue slipped into your mouth, a soft whine escaping your throat as he explored your mouth. You felt him smile into the kiss, making your heart melt. If this was all it took to get him to loosen up, you would’ve been tried this.

You felt him remove one of his hands off your body, reaching behind you to tug his hoverboard off the table and onto the floor, giving him space to grab your hips and lift you up onto the table. You stayed connected in a messy kiss as he gripped your thighs and toyed with the waistband of your night shorts. You finally broke away, strings of saliva connecting you both as you panted softly, trying to catch your breath as you smiled down at him as he tugged at your waistband, a smile on his face as while. “There we go~” you cooed, your soft hands cupping his cheeks, “Finally got you to smile f’me,” you giggled, his smile only growing bigger. “Who wouldn’t for you, baby?” he chuckled as he tugged down your waistband, silently signalling to you to lift your hips, which you happily obliged.

He pressed soft, wet kisses all along your jaw and neck as he tossed your shorts somewhere behind him, pushing your thick thighs apart, revealing the damp spot on your orange, lacy panties, bringing a smirk on his face. “All that for me?” he smirked slyly, gripping you by your thighs and tugging you closer to the edge of the table. “No one else but you,” you giggled. “You must have really missed me,” he chuckled before pressing a kiss into your lips, swallowing the soft moan you let out when the pad of his thumb pushed into your clit through the flimsy fabric. The pretty sounds continued to spill out as he drew tight circles into the little bud.

At some point, he slowly stood up, his lips still locked with yours and his fingers still moving. “Lay back f’me baby,” he muttered against your lips lowly, but you weren't giving much of a choice when he placed a hand on your stomach and gently pushed you back. A shiver went down your spine as he placed soft, wet kisses down your body, making his way between your thighs, sucking hickeys over top of the stretch marks on your inner thighs. You leaned up on your elbows, looking down your body and watching him work on your body, allowing your eyes to lock with his. God damn it, he was fucking gorgeous like this; in between your legs, looking up with hooded but loving eyes, blonde locs falling in his face just a little. A gasped escaped your lips as he kissed your clothed cunt before he tugged the messy fabric to the side. Ekko bit back a groan as he watched strings of your arousal fall from the fabric as your pussy shimmered under the dim lighting. His dick leaked in his pants a little at the sight. “You’re so fucking pretty~” he cooed softly, making your heart melt and your cheeks flush, but before you could even respond, his mouth was on your cunt, coaxing struggled whines and moans from you as the sound of him slurping and licking your core filled the room. Your fingers tangled in his locs, tugging his head deeper between your legs as your head lulled back, your hips grinding against his face as he gripped your thigh with one hand, tugging you impossibly closer to him as he slipped one of his long, thick fingers into your tight hole.

He ate you like a starved man, but honestly the way he’s been locked up in his workshop, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was one. He now had two fingers pumping in and out of you, curling perfectly against that one gummy spot inside of you as he slurped and sucked at your clit, the juices from your previous orgasm pooling in the palm of his hand and on his desk under you.

He reluctantly detached from your cunt after your third orgasm leaving you a panting and shaking mess in front of him as he smirked down at you. “How’s that for proof?” he smirked, earning a breathless giggle from you as he licked your juices off his now dripping hand. “Ya know, I came in here to try and help you un-stress~” you giggled. “Hm, then you did a amazing fucking job baby,” he chuckled lowly, leaning down to lock lips with you, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips.

“Lets go to bed~” he uttered, scooping you off his table, leaving a mess for him to clean up later.

#ekko arcane #arcane #ekko #ekko x reader #black!fem!reader #black!reader #lilixoxo writes #arcane smut #ekko smut #lilixoxo smut #ekko x fem!reader #Ekko smut

289 notes · View notes

zzeraphilm · 9 months ago

Text

Building Bridges

Regulus Black X Potter!F!Reader

Summary: After finding the note left behind R.A.B in the presumed Horcrux. The Golden Trio seek Sirius’ help in locating R.A.B, they end up finding him yet the reunion is not as expected. (Roughly set at the beginning of DH)

Note: Sirius didn’t die in Order of the Phoenix and Regulus didn’t die in the cave he just run off abroad to hide :p

I haven’t written for Harry Potter (ever) so apologies for any thing that might be out of character! ;-; i kept thinking about this rough idea during work

——————————————————————————

Harry looked up and locked eyes with his Godfather, Sirius had been silent the entire time. They were perched neatly in a two by two formation, his two best friends behind him and his only remaining familial tie. They had taken a portkey to the Scottish highlands, the icy gusts of wind cutting threw Hermione’s ponytail so high it nearly smacked Ron on the back of his head.

“Sirius, are you sure this is the right place?” Harry’s fingers clutched his forearms, rubbing them vehemently to produce some warmth.

In front of them was a lonesome cabin, mere metres away from the vast forest line that dotted along the coastal shores. Crashing waves hit the jagged rocks like the sound of an applause.

Sirius clutched onto the note the Golden trio had given him.

“For years I had questioned by brother’s last found writings. I am certain this is what he meant.”

The quartet marched ahead, the uneven stone path dug into Ron’s trainers, nearly tripping him, thankfully Hermione caught him by the seams of his jacket.

The door beyond had its metal hinges rusted beyond repair, a faint shadow of the number plate ‘8’ was the only reminisce of the original oak. Cracks and blackened mould painted over the door, weirdly however, the door knocker was untouched, no sign of usage or age. Despite Sirius’ persistence to wait to check the area, Harry banged his first against the wood, the booming shakes forced the door knocker to tap in sync.

There was a faint shout from within the cabin, heavy footsteps and whispers. Then silence.

The door creaked open, a woman tight lipped and furrowed eyebrows, her E/C eyes shot daggers towards Harry. She glanced at Ron, then Hermione and finally she focused on Sirius.

With a swift push, the door flung open revealing herself and a disheveled man behind her aiming his wand towards them.

“Sirius! Oh My! You’re alive!” She threw her arms around Sirius, behind Ron was flabbergasted, yet Hermione had her wand matched with the man behind the woman.

“Y/N, what are you- Regulus?” Before Sirius could enjoy his reunion with his long lost friend, he could only focus on his brother.

“Regulus Arcturus Black.” Harry spoke softly.

“Do not call me that,”

Regulus’ grip on his wand tightened with a slight shake in his wrist, his fingernails dug into his palms. “How did you find this place?”

Y/N took a few steps back and held onto Regulus’ raised arm gently easing it lower and lower.

“Darling, put your wand down. Your brother has finally come home yet you show him such malice. It has been years may we talk about this over tea,” her whisper felt like a soft hug unlike any other. “Please?”

After guiding the four to their small dinning table, Y/N left to the kitchen to boil the kettle. With only two chairs at the table, Harry, Ron and Hermione insisted on standing behind Sirius, who sat opposite his scowl faced brother.

After years of believing his brother’s death, Sirius now was sat face to face with the little boy he used to love. But they were both no longer just boys, now they were men, in the eye of a hurricane waiting for things to come to a crash. Regulus’ hair had become unruly, his curls was as just as untameable as Sirius’. His previously porcelain face, had deeply settled in scars and frown lines that framed his lips. He was far from the young boy destined for power and prestige. He now slept under a rotting roof with walls that could barely hold its own weight. Sirius was torn between grasping his brother after years of separation or running away from everything all over again. But war was coming and time was of the essence. They must leave Scotland for London by nightfall, with everything Regulus knew of the Dark Lord.

“Here, it’s just my own blend of floral herbs and spices. It is quite hard to purchase any professionally made tea round here. It tastes better with a bit of honey, don’t worry.” Y/N laid out two teacups, three short glasses and one tall glass full of her freshly brewed tea. In the middle of the table was a pot of honey with a teaspoon lodged inside. “Please bare with the glassware, we only have enough for the two of us.”

Regulus sat in silence, eyes closed lightly sipping his tea that had two teaspoons of honey mixed in.

“Let’s cut to the chase.” said Harry, Regulus still not paying him any mind, whilst Y/N’s eyes softened when he spoke.

“Regulus, we found this note in this locket signed R.A.B, your initials.” Hermione chucked the locket by its chain onto the table, skidding across to meet Y/N’s fingers. “We know its a fake. We need to know where the real one is now. Voldem-“

“Do not speak his name.” Despite his stern tone, Regulus had delicately placed his teacup onto the table with no splash.

“Under my roof, my home. You do not say that wretched name.”

Sirius slams his hands onto the table, abruptly standing up.

“Regulus, first you fake your death and now I find you cozying up with Y/N Potter, of all people! You are to give these children that bloody locket now or I will show you how Azkaban has changed me!” Sirius’ voice boomed against the four walls, leading Regulus to look up with a scowl.

“Brother,” the younger Black rose from his chair and stepped towards Sirius, in a matter of seconds he had grabbed the elder Black by his collar and slammed him against the nearby wall. His tongue spewed venom targeted his brother.

“You still remain as ill-tempered as always. You have no right to stand in front of me and disrespect my family. Leave whilst I show you mercy!” Regulus already had wand digging deep into Sirius’ throat, in response Sirius had gripped his younger brother’s wrist, attempting to claw his fingers away.

“Regulus! Stop it this instant!” Y/N screeched, pulling her husband away from his brother. Sirius dropped to the floor coughing, Regulus looked down at his brother with a glare, spat on the top of Sirius’ head and left the room.

Harry was left stunned in place. His Godfather looked like a shell of a man the moment he locked eyes with his brother. Now, his estranged aunt was comforting his Godfather after everything. How strange.

“Come, let’s move to the living room and we can all talk calmly there, without my husband.”

Ron turned to Hermione and whispered ‘husband?’ With his eyes darting across the room to focus on the many framed photographs of Y/N and Regulus. Hermione, as shocked as Ron was, merely shrugged and followed the adults to the front room.

Like the rest of the house, the sofa was barely useable, the longer they sat the further they sunk into the cushions. Harry, Ron and Hermione shared the three seater, Y/N perched at the edge of her armchair. Whilst Sirius leaned against the wall by the door with his head down, he felt beyond ashamed at his reunion with his brother.

Hermione coughed trying to clear the air of any tension, “Sorry that we didn’t get to have your tea Miss Potter- or uhm Black-“

“Y/N’s fine dear.” Her E/C eyes softened at the teenagers, they reminded her so much of her brother’s friends in their younger years.

“Y/N, how are you related to me? Sirius hasn’t spoken about you until earlier today.”

She gasped comically, clutching her chest to add to the act.

“Pads, you traitor! You were supposed to be my best friend!” She fake cried but Sirius looked up pleading to her with a string of unintelligible excuses. With a light chuckle her demeanour changed.

“No, in all seriousness I’m not surprised. You were never supposed to know about me Harry. We may be related by name, but not by blood. I was adopted into the Potter family, almost like dear Padfoot here.” Sirius huffed in response.

“I basically was already part of the family when I join you guys.”

Y/N chuckled sincerely this time, her left hand covering her smile, a noticeable silver loop around her finger.

“Yes and you ate all of my hidden chocolates by the third day you were with us!”

Harry couldn’t help but smile at this family’s banter. He was so used to the bickering and squabbling of the Dursleys’, and he hadn’t seen Sirius so animated with anyone but him and Remus.

“Harry, I wish I could’ve been there for you. But before your birth I had responsibilities that called for me that I could not disobey.” Y/N stood up and began to rummage through a chest of draws in the corner of the dimly lit room. She turned around and knelt by Harry’s knees placing a little cardboard box onto his lap. She began to slowly take out its belongings. An enchanted photograph, a notebook and a rusted Snitch.

“After my brother and his friends left for the Order, I tried to join but was vehemently denied by Dumbledore.” She lifted up the tattered notebook, “It would be too long to go into details but to summarise - he did not see me fit to fight alongside James. Instead I was given a separate mission that meant relocation to France. I too was tasked by Dumbledore to find a Horcrux, more so, I was tasked on recovering Regulus. I found both, clearly.” She placed the notebook back in the box and picked up the photograph.

“This was the last time I saw your father, my brother. 1979, their wedding. Look at how young we were Sirius!” She looked up, smiling lightly at the man holding back her tears, he now was leaning over the sofa looking at the photograph in her hand. It was the entire Marauder’s pack alongside Lily who hand her arms linked with Y/N’s both laughing towards the camera. Sirius had his arm slung over James’ shoulders whose tie and top button were undone. Remus and Peter were behind the two, ruffling James’ hair and chanting a silent hoorah for their union.

“That was quite a night, if I remember correctly you couldn’t stop crying at the reception. Saying how you always dreamed of having a sister and Lily was the perfect woman for the role. You were so drunk!”

“I was not!” Y/N screeched, Sirius only laughed in response.

The teens laughed at Y/N’s outcry. Harry kept watching the photograph loop, his parents and their friends could forever enjoy an eternal happiness in this photograph. He only wished he could experience all of their joy and warmth together in person.

“Ahem. As I was saying,” Y/N sat herself down on the armrest beside Harry. “I loved your parents Harry, I truly wish I was there for your birth, for everything. Unfortunately after that night, I had to fulfil my duty as Dumbledore’s foreign agent. By the time news reached to me of James and Lily’s death and Sirius’ arrest, it was too late. I was ordered to not contact you. So I,” With a deep sigh Y/N looked towards the hanging photograph of her and Regulus.

“I threw myself at work, by my fifth year of scouring the neighbourhoods of Europe, I finally found Regulus. And well, you can guess that happened next.” She dangled her ringed left hand over her knee.

“I never meant to keep everything a secret for so long, it became life consuming. By the time I had realised nearly 18 years had pasted, I was a different woman. I’m so sorry Harry.” Y/N clung onto her nephew in a tight embrace, tears dampening his shirt. He gripped her back in response as if she were to disappear from his arms. As they parted, Y/N’s sombre gaze started to brighten.

“Regulus means no harm to you three,” she turns to Sirius “Of course, you know your own relationship with your brother better than anyone else. I know you don’t plan on staying here any longer than you must, so let me handle it. Just stay here for a bit, I’ll get you the locket.”

Then she left the room, leaving behind an ear piercing silence.

“Do you think we could grab some food from the kitchen whilst she’s gone?” Ron uttered.

“I’m sure she won’t mind. Knowing her, she has probably hidden her snacks behind some bowls.” Sirius chortled, he drifted into the hallway and entered the kitchen.

He opened the cupboards one by one until he found Y/N’s fine china. And just as he guessed, she had placed a packet of custard cremes behind a stack of bowls. Still using the same hiding spot, shame there’s no chocolates this time. Before he could shut the cupboard door, he heard shouting from the slightly opened backdoor to the right of him.

“You have no idea what they’ve probably been through to even get here Reg!” Y/N was stood next to Regulus, who was smoking a cigarette and tapping his foot against the grass.

“He shouldn’t be here. I don’t care for the young Potter, he can do what he pleases with that damned piece of shit. I just don’t want to see him for one more second!”

“Don’t you dare raise your voice at me! Don’t you dare speak ill about my nephew! And in case you forgot, you took my name! You’re a Potter now as well, he is your nephew! Don’t you care about your family? Your brother is here acting more of a father figure than anyone else could for that boy who has only known pain. You of all people should know what it’s like to live like that.” Y/N hand grabbed Regulus’ hand and lightly rubbed the back of his palm.

“…so he can be there for Harry but not me. Y/N, I-I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. I can’t just let him back into my life like nothing happened. We left that world behind because of how much it has failed me. You. Us. I only planned my life with you in mind, not once did I consider my brother and now Harry to be there. It’s all too much. I just want things to go back to how it was. Back when it was just you and me.”

Regulus began to softly whimper, Sirius could see from the crack of the door Regulus’ shaking head of hair against Y/N’s shoulder, he saw his brother’s shoulders shake whilst he clung onto Y/N’s waist. Y/N lightly rubbed Regulus’ back with her right hand and patted his hair softly with her left. Just as he did when the two were children.

“I know darling, I know. But we’ll take it slowly. One step at a time. For now,” The two pulled back from each other, their foreheads pressed against one another. “We give them the Horcrux, and once it’s all over. We’ll invite them round for a proper meal. And we can finally clean up the place, yeah?” Regulus hummed a light tune and nodded, he closed his eyes and kissed Y/N’s lips delicately.

——————————————————————————

“Exactly as I suspected! Right behind the bowls,” Sirius returned to the front room before he could see the couple be affectionate to each other. The thought of his best friend’s sister and his brother together was still alien to him. He drew a biscuit from the packet and kept it between his teeth, then threw the whole packet at Ron who gladly caught it in his arms.

It was nearing sunset, they would’ve ideally made their way back to London by now. Harry couldn’t help but sit in silence admiring the photograph in his hands, clutching to it like a prayer.

Y/N and Regulus walk into the room, hand in hand. Before Sirius could utter an apology to his brother, the younger Black pushed his fisted hand towards him, then revealing Slytherin’s Locket in the palm of his hand.

“Take it. Take it and destroy it. Once you’re done with it. Y/N wants you back for a proper dinner.” Sirius slowly takes the chain of the locket, once the weight had been freed from Regulus’ hand, he unlocked his fingers from Y/N’s and disappeared back into the halls of their cabin. Y/N only looked towards them with a glint of hope.

“He’ll come round eventually, you know. He’s changed over the years.”

Whilst Hermione and Ron were nibbling at the biscuits, Harry turned around and stood to face his aunt.

“Y/N can I, can I keep this? Just for now, I’ll give it back once I come back to visit. I just, I really-“

Y/N only chuckled at her nephew’s nervous demeanour, “Of course love. Just make sure you look after it okay? Plus I’ll need you back here with your uncle here so we can take more photos to put up on my walls!”

Sirius, who was still chewing half of his biscuit interrupts “Actually I’m his Godfather,”

The H/C haired woman flipped her head around, “Since when? Why would James- Are those my custard cremes?”

——————————————————————————

“Goodbye Y/N! Goodbye Mr Regulus!” Ron waved as they walked down the stone path back to where they left the port key. He turned to Hermione, “You know maybe living out in the wild seems alright, you know? Pretty nice don’t you think?”

“You think you could make your own food and drink from just the bare essentials like Y/N?” The curly-haired girl retorted with a smile.

“Oh well no, maybe I could just conjure up something!” The two continued to bicker and laugh till the end of the path. Behind them Harry and Sirius stuck a few seconds longer to speak with Y/N.

“I’m sorry for the state of our cabin, my dear. I’ll make sure Regulus repairs all of the broken furniture before your return!”

A faint “I heard that!” echoed from the hallway. Y/N laughed and drew Harry into a hug, lightly patting his head. “Don’t worry, I’ll see you soon.” Harry squeezed her tightly and thanked her again softly, promising to return the moment he is finished with his goal. He turns back and rushes to his friends.

Y/N steps back and turned to Sirius. “Pads, tell me who else is left from us lot?”

“Ah well, Moony’s still kicking, still part of the Order.” The two laugh at the thought of their shared memories. A light sigh trails the end of their joy.

“Merlin, things really have changed so much now. I heard that it was Peter, yes?”

Sirius nodded, still resentful towards his traitorous friend yet his eyes gleamed with sorrow. Y/N rubbed his forearm in response to comfort him.

“You’ve got us now. Reggie will take a while, but you’ve got Harry and me. We’re family now. So, don’t be a stranger okay?”

After a lifetime apart, the two friends hug as if it was their last day at Hogwarts all over again. As Sirius walked back to the teenagers ready to go back to London, he took one last look at the cabin behind him. From an upstairs window, he saw his brother. The two nodded at each other, either out of pure politeness or an unconscious agreement to meet again, to rebuild what was lost.

#regulus black x reader #regulus black #sirius black #harry potter #hermione granger #ron weasley #the marauders #the marauders fanfic #regulus black angst #regulus black fanfic #sirius black x reader

768 notes · View notes

moomuzan · 2 months ago

Text

I⃣ M⃣ P⃣ O⃣ S⃣ T⃣ E⃣ R⃣

༘⋆CHARA. — dazai , chuuya , akutagawa

༉‧TAGS — angst , gender neutral

ੈ INFO — you have been an imposter, all this time. 2.0k

➶ ˚A/N — i think my fav angst prompt is betrayal

DAZAI stared at you as if you’d plunged a knife straight into his chest. You looked the same—same eyes, same soft features, the same mouth that had whispered his name in the dark. But now those eyes were cold, your face void of the warmth he’d come to cherish.

“What’s wrong, Osamu?” you asked, tilting your head, your tone eerily neutral. “You look pale.”

For the first time in years, Dazai was speechless. His mind raced, piecing together every moment you’d shared, every kiss, every teasing word, and weighing it against the bitter truth now staring him in the face. You were standing there, right in front of him, but you felt like a stranger—a perfect stranger who had somehow slipped under his skin and made him believe in things he had long abandoned.

“You’re joking,” he said finally, his voice shaky, barely above a whisper. “This isn’t real. You’re lying.”

His words hung in the air, brittle and broken, the weight of them almost suffocating. He couldn't comprehend the stark shift, the coldness in your eyes. His pulse hammered in his chest as he tried to steady himself, to make sense of the impossible.

Your lips curled into a faint smirk, but it wasn’t your smile—it was cruel, mocking. It wasn’t you. “It’s real, Dazai,” you said simply, your voice devoid of any warmth. “I was never who you thought I was.”

The words hit him like a slap to the face, sending a jolt through him. His chest tightened painfully, his heart pounding against his ribs as the truth began to seep in, dark and heavy. Every whispered promise, every touch that made him feel like he was alive again—all of it was nothing more than a lie, a carefully crafted illusion.

“No,” he muttered, his breath shaky as he struggled to hold on to some semblance of reality. “No, you don’t get to do this. You don’t get to say that everything—” His voice cracked, raw with desperation. “Everything we had was fake.”

Your silence was answer enough. The cold, impenetrable silence that echoed louder than any words could.

“Don’t take it so personally,” you said, your tone flat, emotionless. “You were just a target.”

Just a target.

The words rang in his ears, cutting deeper than any blade. Dazai’s hands twitched at his sides, his breath hitching as he fought to keep the tears from spilling. The sting of those words hit him in places he didn’t know still existed—deep, raw, and aching. He thought of the way you’d tease him, the way your fingers would trace the scars on his body as you’d murmur, “You’re more than the darkness in your past, Osamu.” He thought of the way you’d kiss him so fiercely it made him believe, even for a moment, that he wasn’t broken beyond repair.

He could still feel your touch, the way your hands would linger just a second longer than necessary, as if you were trying to fix the pieces of him that had long been shattered. He could hear your voice in his head, the warmth of it a stark contrast to the coldness now consuming him.

Now it was all crumbling, the illusion shattering before his eyes, leaving only jagged remnants of what had once felt like love.

“You were the only good thing I had,” he whispered, his voice cracking as he looked at you, his hands trembling. “And you—” His breath hitched. “You’re not even real.”

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t react at all.

“I’ll see you around, Dazai,” you said coolly, your words cutting through him like a knife. Your voice was flat, distant, as if the person he had once known was nothing more than a faded memory. Without another word, you turned on your heel and began to walk away.

He didn’t stop you. He couldn’t. His body felt like it was made of stone, the weight of his disbelief holding him in place as you walked out the door. He felt hollow, like a shell left behind, unable to grasp the reality of what had just happened.

When the door clicked shut behind you, Dazai let out a strangled laugh, a sound devoid of any true humor. His knees buckled, the world tilting beneath him as he sank to the floor. His hands, once steady and composed, now trembled uncontrollably. He stared at the empty room, the walls closing in on him, his chest heaving as if he were gasping for air in a place where there was none. He buried his face in his hands, the overwhelming sense of loss crashing over him in waves.

The moment you told him the truth, CHUUYA ‘s world tilted on its axis. You stood before him, arms crossed, your expression unreadable, as if you hadn’t just gutted him with your words.

“Say that again,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. His gloved hands twitched at his sides, his blood boiling with barely contained rage.

“I was never yours, Chuuya,” you said simply, your voice calm, detached. “Everything we had—it was just a game.”

He took a step back, his chest heaving as your words sank in. His heart felt like it was being ripped in two, the pain radiating through him in waves. The floor beneath him seemed to tilt as though the ground were giving way. “You’re lying,” he said sharply, shaking his head, his eyes widening in disbelief. “You’re just messing with me. You do this all the time, playing games, teasing me—”

“This isn’t a game,” you interrupted, your tone cutting through his words like a knife. “This was never a game.”

His breath hitched, and for a moment, the room fell silent. The air around him felt heavy, suffocating, as if time had slowed to a crawl. Chuuya’s hands clenched into fists, a sign of the rage barely contained within him. He thought of the nights you’d spent tangled in each other, the way you’d laugh as you’d pull his hat off and run your fingers through his hair, the way you’d tease him until he’d growl and kiss you to shut you up.

The memories, once sweet, now felt like daggers lodged deep in his chest. His head swam with a mixture of anger and confusion. How could he have been so blind?

“How could you do this to me?” he asked finally, his voice trembling. It wasn’t just the anger—it was the pain. He was shaking, trying to hold on to some semblance of dignity, but it was slipping through his fingers like sand.

“It was never about you,” you replied coldly, your voice void of any emotion. “It was about the job.”

The job.

The words felt like a slap to his face, a cruel reminder of how little he had truly meant to you. Chuuya let out a bitter laugh, his head tilting back as he ran a hand through his hair. He could feel the heat of his anger rising, mixing with a deep sense of betrayal that tore through him. “The job, huh?” he muttered, his voice thick with a mixture of anger and heartbreak. “You played me. The whole time, you were just pretending.”

You didn’t deny it.

There was nothing but cold silence in the air as you stood there, your gaze unwavering. You didn’t flinch, didn’t try to comfort him. You were a stranger now—someone who had worn a mask, someone who had used him for their own ends. Chuuya’s fists trembled at his sides, his jaw clenching so hard it felt like his teeth would crack.

When you turned to leave, Chuuya stood frozen, his breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. His mind screamed for him to stop you, to grab your arm and demand an explanation—anything to make sense of what had just shattered around him. But his body wouldn’t move. The words stuck in his throat, the weight of them too heavy to push out. He felt like a puppet with its strings cut, collapsing under the strain of his own helplessness.

The door slammed shut behind you, and the silence that followed was deafening. Chuuya stood there for a moment longer, staring at the empty space where you had just been. The world felt distant, as though he was no longer part of it. Slowly, his legs gave way, and he sank to the floor, his head falling into his hands. The rawness of it hit him like a freight train. The weight of your betrayal crashed down on him all at once, suffocating him.

“You’re not real,” AKUTAGAWA said quietly, his voice trembling as he stared at you. His pale hands shook at his sides, and his normally stoic face was twisted in anguish. “You never were.”

You met his gaze, your expression cold, detached, unfeeling. “You’re smarter than I gave you credit for,” you said simply, your words sharp and cutting.

His chest tightened painfully at your words, a weight pressing against his ribs so hard he thought he might stop breathing. The betrayal hit him like a tidal wave, suffocating and relentless. “Why?” he demanded, his voice rising despite the tremor in it. “Why would you do this?”

“Because it was necessary,” you replied, your tone flat, as if his pain was insignificant. You took a step back, your posture calm, calculated. “You were a tool, Akutagawa. Nothing more.”

A tool.

The word echoed in his mind, louder and louder, until it felt like his skull might split apart. His fists clenched at his sides, trembling with suppressed fury and heartbreak as Rashomon stirred behind him, lashing out violently against the walls in his frustration. The room quaked faintly under the force of his emotions, but he didn’t care. All he could focus on was you—your coldness, your detachment, the way you stood before him like none of it mattered.

“A tool?” he repeated, his voice cracking. He looked at you with wide, disbelieving eyes, his breath uneven as if he were fighting to hold himself together. “You used me?”

“Did you really think it was real?” you asked, your tone mocking, each word a dagger plunged deeper into his chest.

He thought of the way you’d hold his face between your hands, your touch so gentle it had made him believe he was worth something more than his brutality. He thought of the way you’d kiss his scars, each touch a promise that he wasn’t just a monster, that he wasn’t defined by his violence or his loyalty to Dazai. He thought of the nights you’d murmur to him in the dark, telling him he deserved more than the pain that had shaped him. And now, all of it—all of it—felt like a cruel joke.

“Why?” he asked again, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. “I trusted you,” he whispered, his voice trembling as tears burned in his eyes. “I—” His breath hitched, his chest heaving with the effort to keep himself together. “I let you in.”

Your silence was deafening. You didn’t flinch, didn’t falter, didn’t even meet the raw emotion in his eyes. It was as if his pain didn’t matter, as if none of it ever had.

When you finally turned and walked away, Akutagawa didn’t follow. He couldn’t. His legs felt like they’d turned to stone, his body rooted in place as if moving might shatter him completely. His shoulders began to tremble, and his fists clenched so tightly that his nails dug into his palms, drawing blood. The pain felt distant compared to the gaping wound you’d left in him.

Behind him, Rashomon flared uncontrollably, tearing into the walls around him as his emotions spilled out in violent waves. The room cracked and crumbled, debris falling in jagged pieces, but he barely noticed. His vision blurred, his breaths uneven and labored as he fought against the suffocating emptiness you’d left in your wake.

He thought he’d known pain before—pain from rejection, pain from failure, pain from his relentless quest to prove himself. But this? This was unbearable. This was something deeper, something raw and ugly that clawed at his very soul, threatening to rip him apart from the inside out. For the first time in his life, Akutagawa felt truly powerless.

164 notes · View notes

dreamerwitches · 5 months ago

Text

Full wnk trailer analysis lets go (p1)

Homura with wavy hair fronts. Matches the one from the poster

I dunno about you, but her face looks kinda younger from the side? Cuter? I dont think we've seen anyone else from the side so maybe its just the artstyle and im being silly

The background is pretty hard to decipher

She has a ring but no visible stone or fingernail marking. It doesnt seem like the end of her main hair is wavy. It looks like she's missing the buttons on her front but this may be an animation error or the angle is hiding them

This bit makes me think she's falling down a spiral staircase? Though it doesnt resemble the one later. The gold bits look like banisters. The background gives me a stained glass window church feel

Madoka's home maybe? This is still wavy hair homura

Madoka has no ring

Not much to say. Text in the bottom right says mramasa but the rest is japanese and some numbers. Looks like maybe the power of the fan?

Ibari, number one. Yes its her, the lighting is just pink/red, you can tell cause her blue skin is more purple. To me, it looks like someone is holding her. The light peach parts on the bottom left and right look like the regular animation style. The flowers on the magnifying glass look a little like mami's

Dumb venus maybe? That compact wouldnt close if it had that pearl sticking out XD

I believe this is a homura we havent seen before. The ribbon doesnt match the poster homu from the right. Its brown, her uniform has a white under shirt. Ive seen people theorise this is Manuke, stupidity. The brown ribbon would match her hair colour. Her eyes are more purple than the pink of the previous homura. The colour also matches phone homu from the first trailer.

Ive seen people mention the fencing vaguely looks like oktavia's scales. I think the multiple parts remind me more of her tail. The windows at the very edges kinda remind me of the first scene.

I didnt realise at first but this is homura's wing being broken

Devil outfit has changed. She has a red streak in her hair. Her feathers look fluffier but it might just be the art style. Another red addition to her leg. Her right shoe looks like madoka's. Actually her gloves kinda look like madoka's too

With the city(?) below and the unmoving effects, is this happening during a time stop? Im getting the feeling this trailer (or movie?) has a brown/orange-ish glow to it so maybe they artistically changed the colour of time stop?

With the bright bg and chair colour, i think madoka is with mami (seen later) in this scene. Also i think thats her left hand, no fingernail marking

Rebellion cafe real, it even has the steps leading up to it (though its not 100% perfect... but eh, artistic licence...)

Also, the girl's teacup is cracked. I cant remember the name but it looks like that japanese art of repairing something broken but making the repairs beautiful (repaired witch???).

A stretch, but the napkin underneath reminds me of homu's handkerchief

I thought the lack of soul gem in the ring was an animation mistake but maybe not??? And a dark (could just be obscured by the cup) fingernail marking. It looks like the london underground symbol ToT

Ah the walls dont really match with the rebellion cafe... maybe this is just what cafes look like in madoka XD the single table is still a mirror to it though. I think the lotus flowers are telling.

I wonder if the girl's golden eyes (like godoka's) mean something because magical girls colours usually match dont they? But maybe they've stopped doing that, eh. I like how her glasses are the opposite to homura's, rim on the top.

I didnt realise the thing next to her is a purse, its huge ToT it has flowers on it. I saw someone call them roses to try and say this is gertrud... um no XD have you ever seen a rose???

A stretch but the crockery reminds me of Candeloro's

Its the same three colours

Nagisa has brown scrunchies and her hair is in two low bunches with dark red beads. It looks like her dress is different too

She has the mitakihara uniform and a yellow cardigan. You can see her soul gem ring. The yellow of the cardi and the brown hairbands make me hope it is bear girl......

Girl full of slinkies!!!! The dots around the place remind me of homura's corruption from rebellion (ala on the bus). This is bandaged sayaka

These make me think of candeloro's kiss. I think i can see flowers on the spine too

But the hands together on the middle of the spine is from madoka's rebellion transformation

Walpurgis?

Yes im sure this is the same cafe as madoka was in now. Very pretty

Mami has her hair clip from her magical girl form on the top left of her head. Also could be animation error but maybe her ring is missing the gem

ALSO ARE YOU JUST EATING A SUGAR CUBE MAMI????

Is this the same place from the dancing scene? Doesnt one of the nightmares have an attack like this? So is homura doing it because she controlled the nightmares.

Also they explode with white feathers hmmmmmm. I have the horrible feeling homura would do it to scare madoka

Clearly not the previous kyoko. Outfit is different and more like her original one i'd say. The cake looks like its from the cafe

Also hnnngghhh concept movie?????

Damn ive hit image limit... well part 2 incoming

#madoka magica #puella magi madoka magica #pmmm #walpurgis no kaiten #walpurgis no kaiten spoilers

285 notes · View notes

pedrostylez · 9 months ago

Text

The Way

Jackson!joel x f!reader

A/N: Hi everyone! I’ve unintentionally taken a hiatus from here, and I’ve been working on this for longer than I care to admit. Just something I thought about one day, and wanted to bring a snippet of to life. There’s not much editing I’ve done beyond read it over and over and then close it and work on something else so…bear with me.

Warnings: piv sex, oral (f receiving), Joel’s got a big dick, some dirty talk

Word Count: 1.2k

There’s something about the cold weather and Joel.

His cheeks reddened, his eyebrows pulled down over his eyes in an attempt to brace for the cold. His hands become rougher, red and cracked at his knuckles as they catch on the fabric of his sweater and brush against his jeans when he wipes away the work from outside.

His breath comes out in large white puffs, circling his head and curling around his ears like how his hair does after a shower. His fingers curl into his palms to try and warm them up unsuccessfully while he remains outside.

But it makes him all the more happy to come inside and see you.

The way he sheds off his jacket, letting the warmth of the fireplace consume him while his boots kick off and begin to drip with remnants of snow.

The way he shuffles in wool socks across the tile of the kitchen floor to where you’re standing, those same cracked knuckles coming into view as his fingers wrap around the hot mug of coffee in your grasp.

The way he smiles when you tut over the dry skin, wanting to repair his hands before he presses his chapped lips to your smooth ones.

The way he holds back a laugh when you’ve forgotten what you were saying, staring up at him with doe eyes and parted lips. His hand comes up to run his cooled thumb against your chin, tilting you up into him again and pressing his tongue into yours.

He’s quick to change his pace, from slow to fast, pressing his body against yours. Joel rests his hands against the counter to cage you in, your mouth popping from his to sigh and shiver while he lets his lips trail down your throat. “Joel…” It’s quiet when you speak, barely above the sound of the water settling from the boil on the stove, the clock on the wall ticking away, the crackle of the fire in the other room.

The way he hums against your skin, humid and warm in comparison to the rest of him, has you closing your eyes and leaning your head back. You rest your hands over his, leaning further into the countertop.

He can’t stop himself from venturing further down, down, down. Lifting your shirt to kiss at the soft skin of your stomach, letting his hands stay stuck under your own. Pressed into your chest, squeezing gratefully as his tongue licks out at your skin above the waist band.

“I want you.” Is all he gruffs out, his hands slipping from under yours to work at the button of your pants. He smiles at the way you shiver when his fingers glide on your thighs, nipping at the skin lovingly.

You let him do as he wants, stripping you bare and pressing cold fingertips into your heated skin. The way his tongue peeks out and brushes against your clit, the only warm part of his body touching you, has your head lolling back and eyes closing.

Lifted to sit flat on the cold stone, rough fingers against your inner thighs, warm mouth engulfing your center. Joel groans into you, letting his mouth explore deeper into you. One hand supporting you, the other buried into his hair as you call out to him. “Joel–”

“No.” He growls, fingers digging into the supple flesh as if you could shimmy away. “I need you.” He corrects his earlier statement. “I’ve been missing you all day and–”

It’s like he’s in total distress, having spent all day out in the cold on patrol and now finally inside and warm and with you that has him going crazy and unable to look past the tunnel vision he has to your center. “Joel, please I want you inside of me.” You interrupt him, biting at your lip while stroking at his curls.

His eyes flick up, looking over your face as he breathes heavily over you. It’s frozen for a moment, until he shakes his head and swipes his tongue over you again. “After you come.”

Your eyes roll back, your protest dying in your throat as his tongue dips into your center and nose presses against your clit, again and again and again. Your fingers tighten in his hair, holding on for as long as you can until his humming of pleasure has you tipping over the edge.

When he finally pulls away from you, chin and mustache slick with your release and ushering you still naked into the living room where the fire crackles louder, you watch him. His cheeks are still red, but now from his blood pumping heavily through his veins. The puffs of air are invisible against your skin as he lays you down on the rug in front of the fireplace, murmuring that he “can’t wait” and “needs you now.”

The way he pulls the sweater over his head, unbuttoning the flannel beneath and shedding it like his coat earlier before smiling smugly at you. “What?” He chuckles, letting his fingers come down and grab just above your knees, maneuvering you to be spread in front of him.

You shake your head, embarrassment flooding your system and heating your skin. “Nothing. You’re just…” You trail off, your fingers unconsciously reaching forward to run through the trail of hair at his belly button.

He hums, his cheeks heating in his own shyness, his jeans popping open and resting half way down his thighs. He leans forward, his head tilted down to watch himself as the head of his cock presses at your opening.

Your hand stays planted at his stomach, resting gently but unable to move away as your own chin is tilted down to watch as he slides in easily. The initial stretch is always a bit shocking, an inhale of breath as his head snaps up to look at you and gauge your reaction. “You’re okay, shhh, good.” He coos, tilting his hips back and pressing forward again as he wraps your legs around him. “That’s it, I can feel you baby. You feel me? How hard I am for you?”

“Yes.” You breathe, digging your fingers into his arms. He grunts, happily pulling back and pressing into you again and setting a pace that has you both begin to wonder if you should still be in front of the fireplace.

The way Joel begins to lose himself, burying his head in your neck and grunting, groaning, gripping your legs tighter and tighter until he can’t hold back any longer. His hips continue to rock back and forth, his body breaking out in a sweat at his orgasm.

It’s only when he lifts his head from your neck to look at you again that he sees your smile, his own grin stretching wide. “All warmed up?” You ask somewhat breathlessly, biting at the inside of your cheek to hold in a laugh.

Joel hums in that way that tells you he knows you’re being funny, pressing a peck to your lips. “Very, might stay here for the rest of the night.”

You groan, smacking his shoulder and letting your laugh bubble out of you. There’s something about the cold weather and how horny it makes Joel.

#joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller tlou #joel fic

332 notes · View notes

guinea-pig16 · 1 year ago

Text

House Call

Harvey x Farmer!Reader

Fic is below the cut! Please enjoy!

Summary: Harvey gets calls from people in Pelican Town who are concerned for the new farmer's health. Harvey goes and pays the new farmer a visit.

______________________________________________________________

Word Count: 2100+

Warnings: Wounds, bruises, burns

______________________________________________________________

Harvey walked past the bus stop, medical bag in hand, enjoying the warm breeze. It was late spring, the days getting warmer and longer as summer attempted to take over. He was on his way to the old farm that had been taken over by a newcomer a couple months ago. The new farmer, named Y/N, had already gained the reputation of being incredibly friendly. They would come into town frequently to get tasks from the help board, buy supplies, donate items to the museum, or just to chat with the townsfolk. Harvey personally didn’t talk to them much, not that he avoided them of course, he just tended to stay inside his clinic, oftentimes missing their visits into town.

He was on his way to the farm because he had gotten a series of calls from his fellow townspeople concerned for Y/N’s health. Apparently, they had gone to the saloon late last night appearing battered and bruised after an adventure to the mines. Harvey was fairly certain that they were fine as he’d heard they frequented the mines quite often, but being a doctor, he couldn’t say they’d be fine if he didn’t at least check on them.

Harvey entered the farm and looked around in slight awe. The last time he saw the old farm it was overgrown with gnarled trees, weeds, and stones. Now it was nothing but a clear field (with the occasional large stones and logs) with plots of crops growing happily in the soil. Something was off though as he stepped closer. He was no farmer by any means, but the plots didn’t appear to be watered yet. He looked to his left. The mailbox still had its flag up, meaning the mail hadn’t been checked. He furrowed his brow and checked his watch. It was about 15 minutes past 9.

Odd… I thought they were usually up and about by this time. He thought as he climbed the steps to the porch. Their house was quite small, looking more like a cabin than a house. It seemed as though they had attempted to repair some of the cracks and holes on the outside themself. He knocked on the door.

From inside he heard shuffling and a quiet groan, then a muffled coming. As he heard footsteps approaching the door, he quickly gave himself a once over, smoothing his coat and readjusting his collar. The door swung open and a tired (slightly annoyed) Y/N clad in pajamas greeted him. They stared at him blearily before recognition flashed in their eyes. They quickly straightened and cleared their throat.

“Uh, Dr. Harvey. What a surprise, I didn’t expect to see you.” They said, fixing him with a slightly strained polite smile. Harvey quickly glanced them over, trying to see any injuries. They were wearing a loose long-sleeve shirt and baggy pajama pants with slippers. He didn’t notice any physical ailments.

“Please, just call me Harvey. I came today because I’ve received several phone calls from people in town concerned about your well being.” He said. He watched as their face flushed slightly. They brought a hand to the back of their neck and glanced at the floor, shuffling slightly.

“...Ah, I see… Well, I’m doing fine, just a lil’ worn out from last night. Nothing some rest can’t fix, y’know?” They said sheepishly. Harvey raised a brow at them, causing them to shrink slightly.

“I was told you looked like you had gotten into a fight with a bear last night.”

“...Oh… well… yeah…” They stared at their feet.

“Have you treated your wounds at least?” He asked.

“Um… yeah…?” They said, sounding unsure.

“May I check?” Harvey asked. He saw them hesitate to answer. “It won’t take long, I just want to make sure your wounds don’t get infected.” He clarified, giving them a small smile. He watched them consider his offer. After a moment, they sighed and stepped to the side.

“Alright, you make a good point. Come in, I’ll make some coffee.” With that, they walked inside letting Harvey follow. He closed the door behind him and looked around. It was fairly small, but cozy. Their bed was pressed into a corner, the sheets a mess. There was a fireplace against the far wall and a box tv sitting next to it with a pillow in front of it to act as a chair. Against the right wall was a small kitchenette, a table with two chairs, and a door which he assumed led to the bathroom.

Y/N gestured towards the table. “Go ahead and have a seat, make yourself at home.” Harvey walked to the table and set his bag down. He sat and observed them as they rummaged around to find coffee grounds. A slight frown settled on his face as he noticed their movements. If they moved too fast, they’d wince and slow down. There was the slightest limp to their steps as they went to the sink to fill the coffee machine. They sat down in the other chair, moving slowly as if going faster would hurt too much.

They watched Harvey as he shrugged off his coat and opened his bag, pulling out a thermometer. He turned to them.

“Alright, to start I’m going to take your temperature.” He leans close and places the thermometer against their forehead. “Have you been experiencing any headaches, tiredness, or nausea?” He asks. He doesn’t notice how Y/N begins to flush.

“Um… no, not that I know of…? I’m just kinda… sore.” They say, letting out a breath as Harvey leans back and checks the thermometer. Their temperatures normal. That’s good, it doesn't seem as though they have an infection. He glances at them. I’d better still check where they’ve been injured though. He places the thermometer back in his bag and rolls up his sleeves.

“Your temperature is normal. Where have you been feeling sore?” He asks. They rest their head in their hand, drumming their fingers, appearing uncomfortable.

“Um, mostly my back and legs. My arms are pretty sore too.” Harvey nods.

“So, what exactly happened last night?” He asks.

They look at the table, appearing embarrassed. “Well… I went mining and uh, might’ve gotten a bit in over my head… There were a lot more monsters than last time and… I think you can guess the rest…” They traced patterns in the wood of the table. Harvey grimaced. He knew the mines were full of dangerous creatures. Slimes, bats, rock crabs, huge flies, shadow people and more.

“May I see?” They stare at him for a moment.

“...See what?”

“...Your injuries…?” He says, raising a brow. Y/N flushed, eyes widening.

“Um, they’re not that bad! Don’t worry about them, I’m fine! Probably just need some pain pills to be honest…” They say quickly, tugging on their sleeve. Harvey had a feeling that they didn’t want him to see their wounds. Either because they were embarrassed, or they were that bad.

“I just want to make sure you’ve properly dressed them.” They looked down at the table. “I’ll leave as soon as I see you’re okay. That’s the only reason I’m here.” Harvey said. They nervously tapped their fingers on the table and then let out a sigh.

“...Alright…” With that, they began to lift their shirt off. He sees them wince slightly as they raise the shirt off their torso. He grimaces as he sees black and yellow bruises adorning their sides and stomach. They had shoddily wrapped a bandage around their middle and upper right arm, dried blood having bloomed to the surface.

“May I remove the bandage?” He asked. Y/N nodded slightly, looking to the side, embarrassed. Harvey stood and gently began to remove the bandage from their arm. He stopped when they winced, and then proceeded even slower.

Harvey winced himself when he fully removed the bandage. There was a large burn on their upper arm, it appeared to be an acid burn. Y/N glanced at him and cleared their throat, looking sheepish.

“Yeah… A slime got me when I wasn’t paying attention. Could’ve been worse, my shirt took most of the hit… Bastard ruined a good shirt…” They trailed off.

“...I see. And you know how to treat burns like this?” He asked, opening his bag. He pulled out a fresh bandage and some petroleum jelly and a sterile cloth. They tapped their fingers nervously on the table.

“...Wrap it…?” Harvey smiled slightly and went to the sink and ran water over the cloth.

“Yes, but you’re supposed to rinse off the burn first with water to clear any harmful residue. Then you wrap it loosely. You wrapped yours too tight. Wrapping it too tightly could cause it to swell.” He sat back down and began to gently wipe the burn. He frowned, the burn had already begun to swell slightly.

“...Oh…” Y/N’s face was flushed as they stared at the floor. The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes as Harvey treated the burn, wiping it down and then spreading petroleum jelly on it.

“...You didn’t think to call me?” He asked quietly, wrapping the burn loosely with the fresh bandage. He waited for a response, not fully expecting one.

“...I didn’t want to bother you…” They said softly. Harvey halted at that. He looked at them incredulously.

“You didn’t want to bother me, a doctor, who’s whole job is to treat people?” Their face blazed red.

“I don’t know! It was late, the clinic was already closed! And I… I thought I could deal with it myself…” They trailed off, brows furrowed.

Harvey sighed and finished wrapping the bandage. He began to unwrap the bandage around their middle, taking care to go slow.

“Y/N, I am your doctor. Even when the clinic is closed, you can always call me and I’ll take care of you. It’s my job, and I’m happy to do it.” He finished unwrapping the bandage and assessed the wound. It was a decently sized gash. He retrieved some rubbing alcohol from his bag and began cleaning it. Y/N was silent.

“...I know I don’t know you very well, but you can come to me for anything. Doesn’t matter if it’s because you’re sick, or if you’re just in need of some company, I’m here for you, alright? My door’s always open.” He paused. “Well, at least til’ 3, then you’ll need to call me so I can let you in.” Y/N chuckled at that, making him smile. He finished cleaning the gash and put some petroleum jelly on it as well, then wrapped it in new bandages.

“There, good as new!” He said, leaning back. “Your cut on your side was shallow enough to not need stitches. Your burn should heal in a couple weeks, as well as the cut.” He pulled out some pain medicine from his bag and handed the bottle to Y/N. “Take this once every 4 hours for your soreness. It should help.”

“...Thanks, Harvey. For checking on me and everything.” They said, a soft smile on their face. Harvey returned the smile.

“Of course. What kind of doctor would I be if I let a member of the town go without treatment?” At that, the coffee machine beeped, making the two of them turn their heads.

“Oh, coffee’s done.” Y/N stood and put their shirt back on. They grabbed two mugs from the cabinet. “Are you able to stay for a cup? I know you still have to run the clinic and everything, but it wouldn’t be long if you’d like to stay.” They asked. Harvey mulled it over in his head. He probably should be getting back by now… But Maru was working today, and he left a note behind explaining where he was. Besides, one cup wouldn’t hurt, right?

He smiled. “That sounds lovely.” Y/N returned his smile and poured him and them a cup as he packed away his supplies and set his bag on the ground. They set his mug in front of him and sat down. He picked it up and took a sip, savoring the warmth and roast.

“So…” He said, catching Y/N’s attention. “What’s it like in the mines?” A grin spread across their face, their eyes lighting up.

“Well, it’s pretty awesome! The caves are beautiful! And there’s tons of ores and minerals, oh! And if you like fighting, that’s the place to go!” They kept talking, Harvey listening, taking occasional sips of his coffee.

One mug, turned into two, then three. And eventually the pot was empty, but they both kept sitting there, talking about any and everything. Eventually, Harvey had to bid them goodbye and head back to the clinic.

As he walked past the bus stop, enjoying the breeze, he thought back to their smile and laughter as they told him about their adventures to the mines. He smiled to himself. He couldn’t wait to see them again.

______________________________________________________________

Hello hello hellooooo !!! it's been awhile since I last wrote a fic huh?? This is my first time writing a Stardew fic too !! Hope yall liked it !! Ciao !!!

xoxoxoxo

______________________________________________________________

tagged people:

@dokoni-mo @minnieplier-blog @takashi747 @justsomedirt @kieropal @marvelluvv @0bs1d1ankn1ght @punkghost141

#x reader #gim fic #stardew valley harvey #stardew valley #sdv #sdv harvey #sdv fanfic #stardew valley fanfic #sdv harvey x reader #sdv harvey x farmer #stardew harvey #stardew farmer #stardew valley farmer #sdv farmer

592 notes · View notes

skippingstonez · 14 days ago

Note

Hi! Hello! If your taking requests.. Is it possible to request Hyrule? Anything to do with his world? I really enjoyed your Four fic and Sky Fic, along with Bun Legend! Just amazing, keep up the great work! Thanks!

If there is an LU boy that deserves more fics its this sweetheart!! I freaking love Hyrule so enjoy some fluff with him!

Late Night Reading

(Hyrule x Reader)

Hyrule descended down one of the castle's many spiraling staircases towards the basement. The stone walls and steps, though repaired since his last visit, still cracked and crumbled under his meticulously placed steps. Ready to give way at any misplaced weight or unsteady footing. It was a dance Hyrule had long since memorized in his many trips down to the castle's lower floor. Easily skipping over or shuffling past rubble and debris that littered the narrow stairwell till the stone floor leveled out into an equally narrow hallway.

He took a bite of the fruit in his hand. Nibbling on its sweetness that tingled on his tongue as juice dribbled from the corner of his mouth towards his chin. He wiped it away with the brown sleeve of his shirt. His usual green tunic, bracers and other items were left upstairs in the room he was currently supposed to be sharing with Wild and Four, leaving him in just his simple brown shirt and trousers. His sword was still strapped across his back. The inside of the castle may be safe but this was still his era and he wasn't about to take any chances going somewhere unarmed.

He took another bite as he headed down the hallway. The small candle’s flame flickering against the cold draft wafting by. Old suits of armor, rusted and covered in dust, lined his path to the large door at the end of the corridor.

Hyrule paused. The door was cracked open; A soft light coming from just within.

Not only was it late, the sun having set hours ago, but besides the occasional visit from Aurora or Dawn he was the only one to ever even come down here. Hell he didn't even think anyone else knew about this room.

He approached quietly, blowing out the candle and tucking it away in case it gave him away. His ear hovered over the door, listening for any sounds of movement coming from within. His hand hovered over the hilt of his sword, listening to soft footsteps, mixed between the sounds of papers being shuffled around and books being closed and reshelved. There was no other indication of who or what could possibly be inside. So he braces a hand against the wooden door, giving it a gentle push to open it a bit further. Releasing a puff of air when it didn’t creak, he stuck out his neck, peeking inside the room.

His eyes scanned the length of the large study. The light came from the large stone fireplace to the right. The small flickers of flames leaving the room in a dim, golden hue that caught the reddish flecks of the wooden bookshelves that lined the perimeter of the room. Each one packed with books, maps, trinkets and everything else one might need in the quest of research. To the left was a dark wooden desk that matched the surrounding bookshelves. Its drawers and hidden cupboard housed the many personal journals and items of the room's previous owner that Hyrule had been slowly trying to sort through since first coming across them.

Your figure sat perched atop that desk. Only in a pale blue nightgown that Aurora had leant you for the night. The princess was taller, the difference in height making the material of the dress fall well past your feet that dangled above the room's dark purple carpet. Your elbow rested on your knee, crossed over the other with a book firmly in your hand. There was a small stack of books on either side of you as you flipped through page after page.

Hyrule exhales, feeling a bit silly for how suspicious he had been. He smiles, pushing the door open all the way.

“How am I not surprised you found your way down here?” He teased, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest.

Your head shot up, the surprised expression of being caught red handed making Hyrule only chuckle.

“Hyrule! What are you doing down here? Shouldn't you be in bed?”

“Shouldn't I be asking you the same thing?” He countered, strolling further into the room till he stood beside you. He unstrapped his sword, propping it up as his hip leaned against the edge of the desk. Bracing a hand on its smooth surface.

“Besides, does a guy really need a reason to be in his own study?”

Your eyes widened, slamming the book in your hands closed and shoving it away from you.

“Your..? Oh my gosh I'm so sorry! I didn't- I was just exploring and I wound up here! I didn't mean to intrude!”

Hyrule chuckled at your frantic response. Calling out your name to try and get you to calm down.

“It's fine, you're more than welcome to be here. I was just surprised is all. Not very many people know about this room so I didn't expect anyone to be here.”

“Are you sure?” You asked cautiously, scooting off the desk till your feet touched the ground. “Cause I can leave! I don't wanna-”

Hyrule put a hand on your shoulder, stopping you from making for the door. “It's fine, really!” He assured you, picking up the book you had just been reading to hand it back over. “Besides, I know I said this place is mine but it still doesn't really feel that way so I’d love the company.”

You smiled softly, visibly relaxing as you held the book tightly to your chest. You met his honey brown eyes, a blush creeping onto your cheeks as you quickly diverted your attention.

“So what exactly is this place?”

“A study” His voice as flat and dry and Gerudo desert.

You rolled your eyes at the shit eating grin on his face, playfully hitting his shoulder as he laughed. Letting yourself hop back up to sit on the desk, you crossed your arms over your chest with an unimpressed look on your face.

“Alright alright, I give. Aurora showed me this room a few months after she woke up. Told me it was her grandfather's back when she was little so most of the stuff in here is his. He apparently traveled a lot, so this is where he kept everything.” Hyrule moved to the other side of the desk, pulling open a drawer stuffed with loose pieces of paper. Hyrule grabbed a handful, handing them to you to look at. Each one looked like it had some sort of sketch on it, like a roughly drawn map or depiction of specific places or people.

“Wow you weren’t kidding. Seems like this guy got around.” You marveled at the sheer number of places depicted on each page. You didn’t even think some of these were in Hyrule.

“You like those?”

You nodded, scanning through all of them again before handing them back for Hyrule to put away.

“Ya know, since you're here, think you could help me with something?”

You twisted around, nodding as you watched Hyrule dig through the desk. He knelt down, making you crane your neck to try and see what he was doing. Popping back up, he held a stack of leather bound books and a few rolled up pieces of parchment.

“Could you take a look at these?”

You outstretched your hands, letting Hyrule place some of the books in your arms and the others beside you. Most of their titles were vaguely familiar while others seemed to be in a completely different language. Hyrule came back to your side, leaning against the desk with his arm pressed against yours as he hovered over you.

“What exactly am I looking for?”

“Are you able to read it?”

You looked closer, focusing on reading what was in front of you instead of just glazing over it. The writing wasn’t exactly your Hylian, but it had a fair amount of similarities. Enough so that you were able to make out most of the letters and words to get its general concepts.

“It's a bit dicey but yeah I can read it. Why?”

Hyrule rubbed at the back of his neck bashfully. Avoiding your gaze as his ears took on a soft pink. “I uhh..I-I'm not the best reader to begin with, and a lot of the books in here are too old for me to even really begin to understand. I was uhh, I was hoping…”

“Hyrule?”

His head was still faced down but he glanced back at you from the corner of his eyes.

“Would you like me to read these to you?” There wasn’t any teasing to the way you asked which Hyrule appreciated. He had always been a bit self conscious about how poorly his reading skills were. Especially since meeting the other heroes. The pink on his ears now spread across his whole face as he barely nods his head with a hopeful look in his eye. You smiled, patting the spot on the desk softly as you opened the book. Hyrule lifted himself off the ground, sat pressed against your side as you began reading aloud.

—---

Most of the books weren't very long, allowing you ample time to read through the whole thing. Hyrule would scurry off after each one to grab another, or make sure the fire gave you enough light to keep going. He listened intently as you read. Pressed against your side and waited patiently when there was a particular difficult section, sometimes skipping over the more intricate words or phrases.

He was especially interested when you realized one of them had been a spell book. You simply put that one aside, promising to try and help him through it at some other point in time.

Finishing the most recent book, you hand it back to Hyrule to put away. Watching him shuffle away to one of the bookshelves across the room. His mouth pressed into a tight line as he tried to decide on his next choice.

You took the short moment to appreciate the way his fingers brushed softly over the different books like each one was something precious to him. Forearm flexing as he reaches up to pull a specific one. How his mouth would gently blow away the dust before giving it over to you.

A draft brushed through the room, making you shudder at the cold air.

“Are you cold?” Hyrule asked. Eyebrows furrowed in concern as he made his way back to where you were still sat on top of the desk. His newest selection clutched in hand.

You nodded, rubbing your arms slightly to ward off another shiver. Hyrule looked around the room, eyes landing on the small fire. He immediately offered you his hand, placing yours on top curiously as he wrapped his fingers around yours. His hand, rough and calloused, held yours with a unique tenderness as you slipped off of the desk. Letting him lead you over to the fireplace, gesturing for you to sit on the floor in front of the fire. You comply, sinking down onto the soft carpet as Hyrule handed you the small book he had picked before dashing off somewhere to your right.

He returned with a large blanket, draping it over your lap before settling himself right behind you. With his legs on either side of you, he nestled close enough so his chest pressed against your back. His fingers poked at your shoulders, coaxing you to lean against him. You did, using him as a makeshift backrest as you let yourself get comfortable. Adjusting the blanket so it could at least cover some of his legs as well.

“Shall I continue?”

He nodded enthusiastically, making you giggle as you let the book fall open on your lap. The illustration of a small boy took you off guard, but Hyrule's excited gasp made you jump.

“Wait, I know this!” He snatched up the book, pointing to the drawing. “I heard these stories as a kid! Hylia, I never realized they came from an actual book. I just thought it was a word of mouth sort of thing.”

You giggled at the way he excitedly looked at all the different pictures of the small boy. One running through the woods while another showed him fighting a large monster.

“Read it? Please?” He asked, putting it back on your lap expectantly. You only giggled more.

“Sure Rulie,” You cleared your throat, leaning further against him as you began. “In the kingdom of Hyrule, there was a young boy…”

Hyrule's chin came to rest upon your shoulder as you read, pretending to follow along as he listened. He desperately tried to focus on the story and not the way he was pressed against you. The two of you had been close before, hugged a few times now and again but nothing like this. Not cuddled up in front of a fire, alone, your body pressed to his with no one around to witness it.

His hand twitched where it rested on his own knee, sneakily sliding down till his finger was right next to the curve of your hip. The fabric of the nightgown was soft though Hyrule’s mind was focused on how thin the material was. No wonder you had gotten cold. He pinched a small bit of the fabric between two of his fingers, wondering if the skin below was just as soft.

He let go, letting his knuckles press into the dip of your hip. Testing to see your reaction to his touch.

Nothing. Hmm…

He held his breath, letting his hand fully come to rest on the soft spot of your body. Palm laid flat against your, trying not to dig his fingers into the plump area. You didn't miss a beat in your recounting of the story, only letting more of your weight lean against him. He tried to suppress the giddy feeling in his heart as he struggled to breathe normally.

His fingers moved on their own after a few minutes, tracing small circles into your hip. Slowly gaining enough courage to come up to your waist. FIngers continued their movement as his head lolled sideways, feeling your cheek rest against the top of his head. He paused once he realized you had stopped reading. Staring down at the page you were on with a confused look on your face. He immediately retracted his hand, even scooting a bit away from you.

“(Y/n)?”

“Sorry it's just…Hyrule be honest with me?” You turned to face him straight on. His heart pounded against his chest as he frantically tried to think of what he had done to upset you.

You held up the book.

“Are these stories about Legend!?”

Hyrule burst out laughing,

You hit his shoulder, making Hyrule fall onto his back as he continued his uncontrollable laughter.

“You knew didn't you!” you yelled, but there was a light laughter to your words. “Oh you little-”

You couldn't hold back your own laughter, your insult only morphing into more laughs and giggles as you both tried to catch your breath. Hyrule propped himself up on his elbows, his stomach hurting in the best way. You hovered over him, still trying to smother your own fit as you poked his chest.

“I can't believe you have a storybook about Legend!”

“Do you think he'd lose it if we showed him?” He asked, finally able to speak coherently.

“Oh my gosh can we!?”

Hyrule sat back up, his face coming unexpectedly close to yours. “Sure,” he chuckled. “We can show him in the morning.”

Your smile at the prospect alone was worth the risk of his grumpy predecessor tearing this book to bits when he saw it. Your eyes sparkling in the light that Hyrule couldn't look away from as you tried to imagine the look on the Vet's face when he realized he had quite literally been reduced to a children's storybook.

Hyrule’s hand lifted to your face, knuckle bushing your chin. His thumb just barely grazing your bottom lip that had you suck in your next breath.

Goddess he wanted to kiss you.

He searched your eyes, his hand still holding your chin. Your hand reached out to rest right on his collar bone, fingertips tickling his neck as you glanced down at his lips. It was all Hyrule needed before he leaned in, lightly touching his lips to yours before nervously pulling away.

“S-sorry! I just..well you just looked so..and I-”

“Link” You called out. The use of his real name instantly caught his attention as he shut his mouth and looked at you expectantly.

You cupped his face softly, leaning forward to kiss him again.

He didn't know what god or goddess he needed to thank but he would be thanking all of them just in case.

Your lips were incredibly soft as they moved against his. You tasted better than any honey or sweet Hyrule had ever had. The edges of his mind blurring into a heightened buzz that had you easily becoming his new favorite sugar high. His hand supported the back of your head, strands of your hair tangling between his fingers. His other wrapped its way around your waist, pulling you closer till he could feel your chest against his. Your hands dropped from his face down to his shoulders, wrapping around his neck to tangle your fingers into his loose curls.

You eventually pulled away panting lightly and Hyrule had to bite his tongue to keep from whining. Your arms fell into his lap, letting him places his hands over yours in a quiet moment.

Your mouth opened slightly, a hand shooting up to cover the quiet yawn before they rubbed at your eyes. Hyrule cupped your face, thumb rubbing back and forth across your cheek.

“Tired?”

“A bit” You admitted, leaning into his touch that all but sent his heart on fire.

“I guess it's probably pretty late. I'm sorry I didn't mean to keep you up this long.”

“I don't mind, I really enjoyed spending time with you, Link.” You offered him a small smile as he helped you to your feet. His head screaming at the way his name so easily fell from your mouth.

“Just a sec,” He hurried over to the fire, lighting the small candle he had from early so he would still be able to see before putting it out. You folded up the blanket, draping it on the desks chair since you weren't sure where Hyrule had gotten it. You picked up his sword, handing it to him as he quickly threw it on his back. He grabbed your hand, letting the candle light guide his way out of the room. “Come on, let's get you to bed.”

____

The walk back to your room was quiet. The castle’s lights having likely been put out hours ago; leaving the candle and the sliver of moonlight peaking through the windows as your only aide to navigate through the hallways. Luckily Hyrule knew the way, otherwise you might have been left to wander around for another hour or so.

His hand kept a firm hold on yours the whole way. Interlocking his fingers with yours as he led you to the upper levels where the bed chambers were. Small squeezes or a rub of his thumb over the back of your hand made your heart flutter, wanting only to be closer to him. You timidly wrapped your arm around him, hugging it to you without letting go of his hand.

Hyrule squeezed your hand at the action, a small reassuring gesture to let you know it was okay.

He finally found the door to your room, opening it for you and waited as you reluctantly released his arm. Another soft squeeze before he leaned down to kiss your forehead.

“Goodnight,” He whispered, finally letting his hand fall away from yours. He turned, ready to make his way to his own room when you latched onto his wrist. His eyes immediately looked back to your pink cheeks, noticing the way you chewed nervously on your lips.

“Dawn gave me my own room ya know…It feels kinda odd sleeping alone after so long of traveling with you guys.” You hesitated, hand still locked around his wrist. “There's plenty of space if you, ya know, want to stay…?”

Breathe Link. You need to breathe.

He nodded, not trusting his voice to come out normally. He smiled at the way you lit up and stepped into your room, tugging him after you till he was through the threshold. Closing the door behind him with a soft,

Click

#link x reader #giggle requests #giggling so hard at this one #lu hyrule #lu hyrule x reader #hyrule x reader

62 notes · View notes

sasheemo · 4 months ago

Text

When We Collide

Chapter 7

Chapter Summary: Drawn by the memory of a fleeting figure in the forest, you find yourself seeking answers amid the trees. In a powerful exchange, you instinctively reach out, offering a quiet comfort that might change everything.

Word Count: 3k

TW: abusive parent, magic used as a mean of violence

A/N: see end of chapter

Chapter Index

Read on AO3

You sprint through the dense forest, heart pounding as branches brush against your shoulders and leaves scrape across your skin.

The whole forest feels alive, pulsing, as if it’s leading you somewhere, drawing you closer. You’re not even sure where you’re headed, but your instincts seem to know better, pulling you toward that one spot. A wry smile tugs at your lips as the realization settles, a strange, almost absurd irony.

You can’t help but scoff at yourself. “Of course.”, you think “Back here, again.”. And yet, even as the thought echoes, you can’t bring yourself to turn back or change direction. Something deeper urges you on, bracing you for what lies ahead.

When you reach the clearing a pang of unwanted disappointment settles in your chest. It’s empty. Only ashes remain from the pile, the last remnants of Agatha’s rage and her attempt at repair. Your eyes linger there, thoughts drifting back to the way she’d sat across from you, her face guarded, her words clipped.

The memory of the figure you’d seen running from the gathering hall suddenly surges. She must be here, somewhere.

An abrupt, strange noise interrupts your thoughts, a sound you don’t immediately recognize. It’s almost like… water? It’s very faint at first, you frown, instincts sharpening as you start moving toward it. Your movements are quiet, cautious but resolute, as the noise grows gradually clearer.

And then you hear it. A scream. A raw, guttural, sound you feel all the way to your bones, filled with a pain that cuts through the quiet, making every muscle in your body seize. You freeze, heart hammering, listening. But silence falls again, broken only by the same splashing sounds you’d heard just a few moments before.

Driven by a mix of curiosity and apprehension, you move closer. Footsteps light as you follow the noise, each step quieter than the last as you approach its source. The sound grows louder, filling the air with a rhythm that carries weight, anger, hurt.

Then, the forest opens to reveal a small, hidden, lake. It’s shrouded in thick, tangled vegetation, the water dark and undisturbed except where stones hit the surface, sending ripples outward.

And there, standing at the water’s edge, you see Agatha.

She doesn’t see you, her back turned, her entire presence charged with fury. Her cloak lies discarded on the ground, as if it had been flung aside in fury. Her hair is wild, a dark, tangled mess, and her dress is torn, jagged edges where branches must have ripped at it, as if she’d run recklessly through the trees.

She picks up stone after stone from the shore, hurling each one into the lake with all her strength. Each throw, each movement, is a violent release, a silent scream, as if she’s trying to cast away everything inside her. Her shoulders shake with every swing of her arm, and her voice, strained, cracks in sounds that barely resemble words, more like cries that carry her emotions into the water, as if she could drown them there.

Agatha picks up a larger stone, and her hand trembles as a deep, pulsing, violet glow blooms from her palm. The stone levitates, her magic holding it suspended, her fingers twitching with the weight of her rage. And then, with a single, heart-wrenching movement, she clenches her fist. The stone shatters, fragments scattering in every direction, casting streaks of purple light through the air. Some of the pieces rain down into the water, and for a moment, the lake itself seems to ripple with the force of her magic.

But, when every remnant of her purples fades, so does she.

Agatha’s stance breaks, her hands fly to her face, and her shoulders collapse inward as she breaks down completely. Her fingers press hard against her eyes, her breath hitching, each sob rough and desperate, as if they’re tearing her apart. Her shoulders shake as her cries echo off the water. But she remains standing.

Something in you aches at the sight. You shift your weight unconsciously, and a twig snaps underfoot.

Her head jerks up instantly, her tear-streaked face twisting into a mask of fury when she sees you. Her eyes, bloodshot and glistening with tears, narrow with a hatred so fierce it almost feels like another wave of magic.

“Leave.” Her voice is cold, dead, yet fractured, her throat raw from the remnants of her sobs. Her hands tremble as she curls them into fists at her sides, her whole body tense as if holding herself back.

You do the last thing she expects you to do. You take a slow, hesitant, step forward.

“Agatha I-“ but the words die on your lips. You simply don’t know what to say.

In that deafening silence, Agatha’s expression shifts, anger sharpening further, her frustration flaring like a storm. “I said LEAVE!”.

Her voice cracks with the force of her command, and before you can react, she grabs a stone from the ground and hurls it straight at you. You sidestep just in time, but instead of backing away, as if pushed by some invisible force, you take another step forward.

That’s when she snaps.

Her arms lift wide, slowly, and an aura of purple magic crackles to life around her. Her fingers curl, each hand a pulsing center of power, and her eyes burn with violet fire as they lock into yours. A glare blazing with rage and magic. All around her stones lift from the ground and emerge from beneath the lake, hovering in the air.

She stands there, the very image of destruction, her magic coiling, vibrating, ready to strike, ready to hurt.

And yet, something in you doesn’t flinch. You look at her as the words slip from your lips. Unexpected. Unplanned.

“Agatha… you don’t have to fight. Not me. Not this time.”

They hang in the air, bridging the distance between you, carving through all of her defenses.

The magic in her eyes flickers, something fragile lingering there. Her hands tremble, her fingers loosening, and in that single moment, the walls she’s so carefully built around herself crumble. Her power fades, purple light dissolving around her. The stones fall, dropping onto the earth and water with a finality that echoes through the air. Her knees give out, and she sinks to the ground, hands pressed to her face as sobs wrack her body anew, even more broken and desperate than before.

You don’t hesitate, not even taking the time to think about what you’re doing, your body moving of its own will as you rush over. You’re there beside her, kneeling on the cold, damp earth, reaching out instinctively but hesitantly, until your arms find their way around her shoulders.

You pull her close, it’s a cautious embrace, but it’s real, solid, grounding.

And, to your surprise, Agatha lets herself lean into it.

She surrenders to the touch, her whole weight pressing into your side. Her hands grip your cloak like it’s her lifeline, holding on with trembling fingers, as if you’re the only thing keeping her anchored. And you can feel every tremor that runs through her, every shuddering breath.

Her head falls against your shoulder, and the weight of her trust, her pain, settles heavily against you. She cries, her sobs muffled against you, her breaths catching in a way that makes your chest tighten painfully. You don’t speak. Instead, you hold her a little tighter, letting your hand trace slow, soothing circles on her back, grounding her, comforting her in the only way you can.

You are completely immersed in the moment, the weight of Agatha’s pain pressing down on you like a force of nature, every sense heightened. You feel the soft, chaotic brush of Agatha’s hair against your face, tickling the edge of your cheek. Her grip on you is fierce as her nails press through your cloak, through the fabric of your dress, and into your skin, in desperate need of something solid to hold to. You breathe in, focusing on the feeling of her body against yours, each tremor a silent cry that you feel in the tightness of her muscles. Her back rises and falls with every breath, and each beat of her pulse, each shallow breath, brings you closer to her pain.

It’s in this state, fully absorbed, that something catches your eye. Your gaze drifts to where Agatha’s right hand is clawing at your cloak, and there, beneath the frayed cuff of her sleeve, you see it. Her wrist is red, vivid burn marks against her pale skin. The sight is like a knife to the chest and an ache forms in your throat, a wordless sorrow.

Without thinking, your hand moves. Your fingers wrap gently around the back of her hand, your touch careful, steady. Slowly, you move her arm, bringing it closer to examine the burns. The contrast is startling. Raw, red welts against the porcelain smoothness of her skin. Your thumb hovers over the angry, red marks, lightly grazing the edges of the burns. You feel your insides twisting.

And then, her name comes out in a whisper. “Agatha…”.

She stiffens, pulling her wrist slightly as if trying to hide it, her face tense. For a moment it seems as though she won’t say anything at all. But a few seconds is all it takes for the words to spill out.

“It was after the meeting…” her voice nothing but an ephemeral murmur, frayed and hollow, as if each word takes something from her she’s not sure she can give. There’s a bitterness in it, a resentment that carries like an undercurrent. “My mo- Evanora… she… she held me back, made me stay after everyone else was gone. She…” Her breath hitches, and she clenches her hands, trying to steady herself.

“She told me… she told me I am weak, a disappointment…”. Her voice wavers, and she clenches her fists tighter. “And then she grabbed my wrist…” she whispers, almost as if she’s reliving it. “She… she used fire magic. I… I could feel the heat, the pain.”

The words spill out of her, each one pulling her deeper, further into the memory until it consumes her entirely. Her voice drifts, quieter, almost detached, as if she’s no longer in the present. She’s back there, in that room, and the scene unfolds vividly.

“Explain yourself!” Evanora’s voice is like a whip, each word a crack against the stone walls, echoing with a sharp, venomous edge. Agatha stands tense, bracing herself, knowing she’s about to face her mother’s wrath, though she doesn’t understand why. Her mind is racing, searching for what she could have possibly done to provoke such reaction.

But nothing could truly prepare her for the anger burning in Evanora’s eyes, the kind of fury that comes from betrayal. Because that’s what Evanora sees in Agatha’s silence, a betrayal of the image, the expectations, she’d molded her daughter to fulfill.

“Do you have any idea what this looks like?” Evanora spits, her words laced with contempt. “My own daughter, the heir to everything I’ve built, standing there silent when we speak of facing the hunters. You didn’t step forward, you didn’t volunteer—”. She practically snarls the words, her hands curling into fists. “You should have been the first to offer! To prove that you are strong, that you are ready to lead!”

Agatha swallows, her face blank, hiding the quiet resentment that grows sharper with each accusation. “The hunters aren’t a real threat, and if you wanted me to join the reconnaissance group, you could have spoken to me beforehand” she replies, her voice as steady as she can manage. But even as she says it, she knows this answer will only fuel her mother’s rage.

Evanora’s eyes flash with fury. “You think this is about fear? About what you want?”. She steps forward, her voice a menacing hiss. “This is about respect, about showing our people who you are and what you stand for. My daughter, my heir, is supposed to show strength, to prove herself every chance she gets, especially in front of the coven! But you—” Her gaze narrows, her voice dropping to an icy whisper. “You made me look weak.”

The words land like blows, but Agatha stands her ground, every instinct urging her not to show a single crack. She knows her mother’s expectations too well, knows how Evanora has always held her to standards that feel suffocating, unyielding. A leader, a force of power and control, loyal to whatever is demander of her. That’s who Evanora wants her to be. But to Agatha, it’s a role that feels more like a cage, every demand pushing her further from herself, from any chance of her own identity.

“Perhaps I’ve been wasting my time on you.” Evanora sneers, her voice dripping with scorn. And before Agatha can react, Evanora’s hand clamps onto her right wrist with an iron grip, crimson tendrils of magic coiling around them.

And then Agatha feels it. A fierce, burning heat blooming against her skin, a flame that bites, scorches, that she can feel sinking into her flesh.

The pain is blistering, relentless, but Agatha won’t let herself react. She won’t give her mother the satisfaction of seeing her wince. She forces herself to stay silent, to let the agony wash over her as she holds her expression steady, unyielding. It’s a look she’s worn countless times, a mask of defiance that she knows will drive her mother even further into fury. And still, she clings to it.

“Weak.” Evanora hisses, her voice a deadly whisper. “And unworthy.” The words burn as much as the magic itself, tearing deeper, lacerating her already wounded pride.

Finally, with a cold indifference, Evanora releases her grip, her hand falling away from Agatha’s wrist as if she was nothing more than an annoyance. “You may go now.” she says, her voice dismissive, empty. The finality of those words cuts through Agatha as sharply as any blade.

Agatha turns without a word, each step away from her mother a struggle as her wrist throbs, pulsing in pain, her hand trembling. She walks as steadily as she can, but the moment she’s out of sight, the mask cracks.

And then she is running.

Fleeing from her mother’s cruelty, her mother’s fire, until the world around her is nothing but trees and silence. She doesn’t even know where she is going, but she has to get away, as far as her legs will take her, to some place where the weight of her mother’s voice can’t reach her. Her feet moving on their own, driven by a desperate, instinctive need to escape.

All she can do is run, her body carrying her forward, searching blindly for safety amidst the thick, sheltering trees. She can feel her magic rising, pulsing at the edges of her control, a storm desperate to break free. It claws at her insides, wild and unrestrained, begging to burst forth, to be unleashed. But she fights it, clenching her fists, gritting her teeth, holding it back with every ounce of strength she has left, afraid of what might happen if she lets it go.

You don’t have to reach far to picture it. The image is almost too clear: Agatha, face held in a stoic mask, enduring the agony with a hardened gaze, determined not to flinch. Even as her skin sears under the heat, you can see her standing rigid, jaw set, refusing to give Evanora the satisfaction of her pain. It’s a look you know well, one that chills you every time you see it. But here, in this moment, you feel the weight of what that look costs her. That ability to hide, to bury her pain beneath a cold mask, it’s a kind of strength, but it’s also a cage, one she’s been trapped in too long. And you realize, with a pang, that this is her default, her instinct. To endure in silence, to bury her own suffering where no one can see it.

Suddenly, her words pull you back into the present.

“She looked at me like I was… nothing.” her voice choked, strained.

You lean forward slightly, willing her to meet your eyes, searching for her gaze to no avail. Your hand is still cradling her wounded wrist, grounding her.

“I’m here, Agatha. You don’t have to face this alone.” you say softly, your voice steady. “And you’re not ‘nothing’. No matter what she made you believe.” a quiet resolve underlying your words.

For a moment, she stays frozen, as if weighing the depth of your words, and you think she might pull away.

Then, her wrist turns in your grasp, her palm coming to rest softly against yours. Her fingertips graze your palm, feather-light, and a shiver runs through you. They slide across your skin, tracing a slow, tentative path. Her touch is subtle, careful, as though she’s testing this fragile connection, as if she’s not yet sure it will hold. Slowly, her fingers drift further, sliding along the lengths of yours until they reach the tips. She pauses there, a touch so delicate it almost feels like a shadow. Smoothly, her fingers curl around your hand, creating a quiet, steady hold that feels both new and somehow familiar.

For a few suspended seconds, you simply exist together in the stillness. Until her grip tightens, and in that gentle pressure, you feel a silent plea. A wordless need for something solid, something true. You respond with a soft squeeze, gently stroking the back of her hand with your thumb, warmth seeping through you, spreading like a quiet spark.

It’s a simple kind of touch, and yet, it feels like a spell.

“I got you. I promise.” you whisper, the words faint yet unwavering.

At last, Agatha slowly lifts her gaze. Her eyes meet yours, raw and unguarded, emotions laid bare in a way that takes your breath away.

A single tear slips down her cheek, but she doesn’t wipe it away. Instead, her gaze stays locked with yours as she lets out a shuddering breath, as if finally allowing herself to believe in the words you just spoke.

-------

A/N: Writing this chapter was a real emotional journey for me. Honestly, I never thought I'd cry writing a fic ... WRONG lol. I really tried my best to capture the vulnerability and rawness between the characters in a way that felt authentic and true to their evolving relationship, but also to Agatha as a character. I wanted each line and moment in this chapter to be charged, a challenge for me to dig into the quiet intensity of their bond. I hope you feel the same connection and tension that I felt while crafting it. Thank you for coming along on this journey, it truly means the world! 💜💙

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness x female reader #agatha x reader #agatha x you #agatha x y/n #aaa #agatha harkness #agatha all along #agatha coven of chaos #kathryn hahn x reader #when we collide #agatha all along fanfic

85 notes · View notes

moog-rt · 4 months ago

Text

Man or Monster

[Frankenstein’s Monster!Shigaraki x Reader]

♡ ♡ ♡

The moon is full, but the village below is none the wiser as black clouds blanket the sky, moonlight replaced by lightning, streaking and cracking endlessly through the night. Beyond the village is a steep, rocky hill, and atop that hill sits a lonely stone tower, teetering on the edge of collapse.

Metal rods protrude from the rooftop, creaking and groaning as they’re thrashed by the harsh winds, and they lead to a large complex machine within. At its center is a glass tank filled to the brim with pigmented fluid, which, occasionally, spills over the rim as gusts slip through gaps in the stone walls. It produces a subtle glow, illuminating the room just enough to see the Doctor’s expression–lips taught, creases between his brows, lower eyelids squinting slightly, framing his intense stare.

It mirrors your own but for very different reasons, you’re sure. The Doctor is leaning forward, propping himself up with a splintering wooden chair. His grip on it is tight, but his fingers continue to fidget. Then there’s you, slightly shrinking into yourself, holding your writing paper to your chest as if it's a shield. Your pounding heart is intensifying by the second.

This isn’t the first time this experiment has been conducted, and at this rate, you’re fairly certain it won’t be the last. Every attempt so far has failed. You’re used to that being the case by now, but it’s those few times…those few times where a ‘failure’ gets a little further than the others. That is the outcome you stress over most.

That outcome means you won’t be leaving the laboratory unscathed.

The silence between the two of you is filled with the howling and rumbling of the storm outside. Each bolt of lightning lights up the chamber, and your heads jerk up to stare intently at the murky tank. Each time, you’re plunged back into the dark with only the slightest bit of light emanating from the vat of chemicals.

There’s a flash and crack so loud you feel it in your bones. The floor is shaking beneath your feet and you barely catch the jagged streaks of electricity coursing through the metal rods and into the machine. It fully illuminates the tank to reveal the silhouette of a man suspended within, back arching as the lightning rushes through it.

The machine groans as metal grinds against metal and smoke puffs from the joints in the piping. The various parts appear to slump as they make one last creak before going quiet.

The tension in your body dissipates–another failed test.

Your back straightens, and you release a shaky breath as you look down at your papers. You’ll have to write up a report identical to a dozen others. You think you prefer it that way. Slouching, the Doctor slowly lets go of the chair and mutters curses as he turns around to go back to his work desk.

The silence returns, this time filled with both disappointment and relief.

The next few days will be filled with repairs. You walk forward to disengage some of the mechanical components, releasing some of the built up pressure within the pipes. The rusted knobs are cold and rough, and they squeak loud and unpleasantly as you turn them.

Maybe that’s why you don’t notice the massive glass tank judder behind you.

You’re walking back to the Doctor when you hear a deep pop followed by a crack from behind you. You spin around just in time to see the tub falling from its metal frame. The pipes that were previously attached to it are showering the room with chemicals, filling it with a pungent odor–sulfuric.

Alarmed, you shout for the Doctor as you rush forward in an attempt to stabilize the tank, an absurd decision on your part. The only way that ends is with you being crushed beneath it.

It crashes against the floor before you can even reach it. The liquid spills over the rim just before the glass shatters. You step on the pieces and slip. The ground is hard and cold when you collide with it. Your head is spinning, and you get to your hands and knees just to be knocked onto your back by the body–the failed Nomu.

You’re sprawled out, clothes and hair thoroughly saturated as the body lays across your lap and lower abdomen. As you prop yourself up a harsh chill racks through your body from the feeling of the naked hodge podge of corpses on top of you; it’s cold and stiff. You hesitantly reach out to push it away but pause before running your thumb across the deep stitched up incisions that wrap around its arm. You remember how it felt to weave a needle through the tough, dead skin, much more difficult than working with something still alive.

A low moan emits from the Nomu, your hand freezes, then it shifts in your lap, head rolling to the side to face you. Its eyes blink open to reveal blood-red irises, a slight haze of white film making them appear cloudy. You get the sense its looking through you until they flicker up to meet your gaze, and you go tense.

Then it winces and curls in on itself, releasing an even louder, strained groan. Your heart is battering against your ribs, but you gentle rub the creature’s arm in an attempt to soothe it. Its arm lifts to grasp onto your shirt.

You hear loud footsteps splashing over to you, and the Nomu is yanked off and away from you.

“It’s–I–I think it’s–”

“It’s alive…” the Doctor finishes your sentence for you, face alight with excitement.

You don’t get even a moment of reprieve as he ushers you into action, ordering you to take his place as the Nomu’s crutch. Eyebrows pinched, those red eyes never leave you, even as soaked powder-blue hair falls in front of them. You find your place against its side, arms wrapped around its waist to keep it from teetering. It’s shivering.

The Doctor is talking to himself, boasting about his success and how eager he is to report the good news. He examines the Nomu as you keep it from collapsing, and you startle when you feel its arm press against your back. You get the sense that it’s trying to mimic the way you’re holding it, and your eyebrows twitch.

You’re too focused on the creature to realize the exam is complete and the Doctor is taking his leave. You only snap back when he orders you to move his new creation somewhere it can be contained.

He also gives it a name. Tomura.

You do as you’re told, carefully shuffling the weak Nomu–Tomura–out of the lab and down the narrow staircase. The first few steps are challenging to coordinate, and your bodies bump against each other as you struggle to stay in sync. Gaps in the wall meant to let in light during the day now allow gusts of wind to blow through, whipping your hair against your face.

Gradually, you make your way down to one of the few unoccupied chambers that isn’t actively crumbling away. It’s cold and damp from the gaps in the stone wall that fail to separate indoor and outdoor conditions. There’s a constant whistle from the wind sweeping across the exterior of the tower.

You don’t recall a time when this room was in use, so it is no surprise that there are no lamps or candles to shed light across these dingy walls. The only things you in here with you are a wooden bedfram and a secretary desk, both rotting away.

You lead Tomura to the bed for him to sit, and as you bend over to make the transition a little easier, he becomes off balance. He stumbles and, because of the way you’re latched onto each other, so do you. The wood creaks, giving way slightly as you collapse onto it together in a heap.

Tomura releases a soft groan as you attempt to clamber off of him, careful of your hand placement as you do so. You adjust him so he’s sitting up, albeit a bit slumped, and watch him for a moment.

His skin is a mosaic of stitched-up incisions, each piece a slightly different shade, but everything about him contains a sickly undertone. His head hangs but his eyes are open and staring back at you. You feel small and vulnerable under his gaze, and your breathing is shaky as you shift closer to move him so he’s lying down instead.

You’ve done as you were told, so there’s no reason for you to linger–part of you is eager to leave and let this night be over with–but you decide to sit with him for a while longer, for observation purposes. At first, you feared he would be hostile, but from what you’ve seen thus far, he appears to be docile.

You brush his wet bangs out of his face to look closer at his eyes. At some point the white film faded, leaving his irises more vivid than you imagined. You’re disappointed and confused when he shuts them. You notice your hand is still entangled in his hair and quickly draw back. Tomura grunts, and his eyebrows slowly press together. It almost looks like he’s frowning.

The room is cold. You can’t imagine how Tomura must feel without any clothes, and you wonder just how much he’s capable of processing external stimuli. You should get him something to cover up and stay warm with, just in case he’s cold, too.

Opening his eyes, Tomura finds the strength to push himself up and groans out when you stand up and walk to the door. It’s hard not to notice the way the rise and fall of his chest quickens the further away you get. He starts shifting to the edge of the bed.

“No,” you say quickly, and he pauses. “I need to go.”

His eyebrows knit together, and he makes a disgruntled noise in response before sliding a leg off the bed frame.

“No,” you repeat and walk over to move him back. “I’ll be back.”

You wait for any sort of response from him, but he’s silent and still even as you leave the room. You hurry further down the tower, your footsteps echoing through the staircase, until you reach the room the Doctor has lent out to you as you help him with his research. It’s smaller than the one you found for Tomura, but you don’t mind much. You pull a basket holding a stack of extra linens out from underneath your bed and gather them into your arms.

You try to be swift as you ascend back up the tower to return to Tomura’s chamber, but the sound of clattering urges you to go even quicker. You come to a clumsy halt when you see Tomura stumbling past his doorway. His eyes are wide and his facial features have contorted into something harsh and unpleasant. A shiver crawls its way down your spine.

You’re hesitant to call out. “Tomura.” His eyes dart over to look down at you, and you frown. “You need to go back inside.” You’re not sure how much he truly understands, but you try to reason with him anyway.

His hunched shoulders heave as he sucks in a deep breath and takes an unsteady step in your direction. His legs buckle, and he crumbles against the stone wall but continues to inch in your direction. The hairs on the back of your neck rise, partly due to the cold that creeps its way through the halls of the tower and partly due to your nerves.

Tomura huffs as he reaches the first step leading down to you, and you urge yourself to do something other than just stand there. Your quick steps echo off the stone as you rush to him before he stumbles closer.

He pauses when you stop just in front of him, reaching out as far as you can without letting the linens drop to the damp floor. He copies you, hand hovering in the space between the two of you. You stare at it then look up at him. At some point, his expression softened, eyelids more relaxed and lips lifted from their earlier grimace, the closest thing to a smile you’ve seen from him.

You take his outstretched hand and move around him to give a gentle tug towards his room. He doesn’t put up a fight and lets you direct him back inside. You let him go to close the heavy wooden door behind you and place the stack of blankets on top of the desk, giving them a soft pat to flatten them out.

You don’t need to hear him to know Tomura is looming behind you, his presence thick and potent. Taking a sheet from the top of the stack, you face Tomura and hold it out, offering it to him. He looks down then back at you.

You raise your hands a little higher and say in a soft tone, “These are for you.”

He raises his arms up in a way that makes you think he’s mirroring you rather than understanding what you want from him. Still, you place the sheet in his hands and grab another for yourself, walking over to lay it across the bed frame for cushioning. Tomura follows you over and drops his sheet onto the bed in a crumpled ball on top of the one you neatly laid out.

You cover your mouth to stifle a surprised laugh and glance up at him with crescent eyes. He looks back at you, and the corners of his mouth twitch into an unnatural grin. His lips are dry and look as though they might crack if he smiles any wider.

You continue to make him a bed to the best of your ability, handing him a few more blankets as you go just for him to toss them like he did with the first one. You wonder if it’s to get a reaction out of you like before, but last you checked, the Nomu aren’t supposed to have that much cognitive freedom. The Doctor is creating them to take orders, and that’s it.

As the wind continues to whistle across the exterior of the tower, you can’t help but think it might be nice to have another person to talk to. It’s only you, the Doctor, and whoever the Doctor reports to here. Socializing is a foreign thing within these walls.

It’s lonely.

“Tomura,” you say as you lay out the final thick blanket across the rest, “Do you want to sit down and try it out?”

He looks at you, then the bed, then you again. You sit down to show him what you mean, and he follows suit, the bed creaking under his weight.

“How do you like it? Comfier now, isn’t it?” You smile at him, even though it’s likely you’re just talking to a wall. You can still see goosebumps across his forearms and decide you’ll wrap him up next. It’s a little awkward being around a naked man anyways, regardless of his condition.

“To—To—” his voice comes out as an unsteady rasp. His vocal chords were stripped from a corpse, so that doesn’t come as much of a surprise. What does, however, is that he can talk at all.

“Tomura,” you finish hesitantly, assuming that’s what he’s trying to say. You stay quiet for him to respond, but he doesn’t.

You breathe out a soft sigh and grab one of the wadded blankets he dropped earlier. As you rise to your knees to wrap it around him, you feel heat radiating from his body. As you adjust it, his skin gives, no longer stiff with rigor mortis.

Your brows furrow, and you don’t miss the way he does the same. You purse your lips before sitting back, earning a huff from Tomura. He frowns, bottom lip pouting, subtle enough for you to miss.

There are a few uncomfortable moments of silence where the two of you stare at each other and do nothing else. You’re each waiting for the other to act first, and eventually, you give.

“Tomura,” you repeat, glancing to the side. He takes in a sharp breath, and when you look back at him, his features have relaxed some. You release a shaky exhale and reach towards him to adjust the blanket so it covers his lap for modesty. Your hands linger as you elaborate, ��That’s you.”

His chest swells beneath your fingertips. “You.”

You lean back again, and his eyes narrow. It’s unnerving, and you retract a hand but leave the other to press firmly against him—against his chest, where his beating heart hides behind skin, bone, and muscle.

“You—” Your fingers give a gentle tap. “—You are Tomura.”

He frowns again, and this time, you copy him, hand slowly pulling away.

“You,” he says again with a voice that puts the wind and thunder to shame. Your heart lurches when he throws a hand into your chest, knocking you backwards onto your palms.

You figure the moment of peace is over and begin scooting away. The Nomu before him, the ones who also had brief moments of life, were mellow at first, too.

Until they weren’t.

He leans forward to grab you by the shoulder and pull you back to him as if you weighed nothing. Your breathing is rapid and your heart pounds in your ears as you clutch to his arm with trembling hands. You’re trying to pry him away, but he doesn’t so much as budge. He glowers down at you through his tangled bangs, eyes wavering between yours.

“You.” There’s nuance behind his voice, a demand, maybe even curiosity. Your eyes widen and lips part. He does understand.

He does…

Your vice-like grip on him loosens as your body relaxes. You tell him your name, and his eyebrows rise.

Then, he says it back. His hand releases you and glides down to hold your arm so gently you almost can’t feel it. His breathing slows in sync with yours as his rough thumb brushes against your skin. He repeats your name once more under his breath, eyelids lowered and a ghost of a smile on his lips.

#happy Halloween #monster Shigaraki #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x reader #alternate universe #frankenstein #monster au #mha fanfiction #shigaraki fanfiction #halloween

83 notes · View notes

capaic · 11 months ago

Text

Honoring Strength, Courage, and Hope

On World Cancer Day, CAPA stands with warriors, survivors, and caregivers around the globe. Let's unite in the fight against cancer, spreading awareness, supporting research, and offering love and compassion to those affected.

Together, we can make a difference. Together, we can bring light to the darkness. Join us in honoring the resilience and determination of cancer fighters everywhere. #WorldCancerDay #CAPACares #StrengthInUnity

To know more tile adhesives and waterproofing floors, epoxy grouts visit: https://capaindia.in/product/capa-flex/, https://capaindia.in/product/capaproof-hybrid-w/

#best tile adhesive in india #top tile adhesive brands in india #top building materials companies in india #tile adhesive manufacturers #tile adhesives for fixing natural stones #high strength flooring mortars #tile adhesive companies in india #floor repairs mortars in india #tile adhesives for vitrified tiles #block jointing mortar manufacturers in india #Flooring mortar #Tile and stone adhesive #Industrial Grouts #floor repairs mortars #epoxy grouts #Powder grouts #Ready mix plaster manufacturers #Machine sprayable plaster #Thin joint mortars #Thin joint mortars for AAC blocks #Waterproofing mortar #Waterproofing system #floor repairs mortars in India #best flooring solutions in india #best waterproofing mineral mortars in india #aliphatic polyurethane waterproofing coating #elastomeric waterproofing coating #flexible waterproofing mortar for crack bridging #waterproofing solutions for crack bridging #affordable waterproofing solutions

0 notes

honeybeezgobzzzzz · 7 months ago

Text

𓅨 Sleepy Bitch Syndrome: Chapter Four

Sleepy Bitch Syndrome: You've got narcolepsy and have been visiting the Dreaming daily for years. Then its Lord and King finally return and he doesn't know quite what to think of you.

Warnings: None.

To Note: Morpheus/Dream x Narcoleptic!Reader, for you dear @aralezinspace.

Word Count: ~2.4k

Previous | Masterlist | Next

You stand in the middle of the chaos, the ground still vibrating slightly beneath your feet. Broken statues and uprooted plants litter the once pristine garden. Mervyn, his pumpkin head glowing faintly in the dim light, mutters to himself as he surveys the damage.

"Well, this is just peachy," he grumbles, kicking a shattered stone bench with his boot.

You bend down, picking up pieces of a shattered sundial. The metal feels cool and heavy in your hands. "Where should I start?" you ask, glancing at Mervyn.

He waves a hand toward the toppled arbor. "That thing's got to go upright again. Can't have the vines just lying there like that."

You nod and head over to the arbor. It’s heavier than it looks, and as you lift one side, your muscles strain against the weight. Mervyn joins you, grumbling under his breath as he helps lift the other side.

"Watch your step," he says, and you both maneuver it back into position. The vines cling desperately to the wooden structure, some leaves torn and wilting.

"Think it'll hold?" you ask, wiping sweat from your brow.

"It better," Mervyn replies, inspecting your work with a critical eye. "Next time an earthquake hits, it might not be so lucky."

You move on to the broken statues. Some of them are beyond repair, their faces cracked and limbs scattered across the grass. You gather what pieces you can find, placing them in a pile near the garden's edge.

Mervyn's voice breaks through your concentration. "I’ll have to get new ones made. These were classics."

"I know a sculptor in the Dreaming who could help," you offer, thinking of the artist who lived near Fiddler's Green.

Mervyn grunts in acknowledgment but doesn’t reply. His attention shifts to a large tree that’s leaning dangerously close to one of his prized rose bushes.

"We need to prop that up before it crushes everything," he says.

Together, you find sturdy branches to use as supports. It takes some effort and coordination, but eventually, you manage to brace the tree enough that it stands upright on its own.

"Good enough for now," Mervyn mutters, wiping dirt from his hands onto his overalls. "You go talk to that sculptor while I clean up the rest of this mess."

You make your way out of the garden, leaving Mervyn to his grumbling and repairs. The path to the sculptor’s workshop winds through the heart of the Dreaming, where reality shifts with each step. The ground beneath you transitions from cobblestones to soft moss, and trees with leaves of gold and silver arch overhead.

As you walk, you notice a group of dreamers gathered around a small fountain, their faces serene and distant. They murmur to each other in hushed tones, their words lost to the babbling water. You pass by quietly, not wanting to disturb their reverie.

The sculptor’s workshop comes into view, a quaint cottage nestled among towering trees. The air here is filled with the scent of freshly carved wood and wet clay. You push open the door and step inside.

The sculptor, a tall figure with delicate hands and piercing blue eyes, looks up from their workbench. "Ah, a visitor," they say, setting down a chisel. "What brings you here?"

"Mervyn's garden," you reply, glancing around at the half-finished sculptures lining the walls. "An earthquake destroyed several statues. We need replacements."

The sculptor nods thoughtfully, wiping their hands on a rag. "I heard about the quake. Nasty business." They move to a shelf filled with various tools and materials. "Which statues need replacing?"

You describe the shattered pieces—marble fauns, granite nymphs, and an intricate sundial that once stood at the garden's center. The sculptor listens intently, occasionally jotting down notes on a piece of parchment.

"I can recreate those," they say finally, rolling up their sleeves. "It will take some time, though."

"How long?" you ask.

"A few days for each piece," they reply. "Quality work can't be rushed."

You nod in agreement. "We appreciate your help."

The sculptor smiles faintly. "I'll get started right away." They gesture toward a corner where several finished sculptures stand waiting for delivery. "Feel free to take one of those as a temporary replacement."

You examine the offered pieces—a delicate stone birdbath, an elegant marble bench, and a whimsical fairy statue—and choose the bench. It feels solid under your touch, its surface smooth and cool.

"Thank you," you say as you lift it carefully, it's light weight surprising you.

"You're welcome," the sculptor replies, already turning back to their workbench.

You carry the bench back through the shifting landscape of the Dreaming. By the time you return to Mervyn’s garden, he has made significant progress in cleaning up the debris.

"Got us something to tide us over," you say, setting down the bench.

Mervyn inspects it with a critical eye but nods approvingly. "Not bad."

You both place it in a shady spot near a cluster of flowering bushes.

"It'll do for now," Mervyn says as he wipes his hands on his overalls again.

You find yourself in the palace kitchens, the warm air filled with the aroma of freshly baked bread and roasting meats. The staff dreams bustle about, their laughter and chatter creating a comforting hum. You lean against a worn wooden counter, taking a moment to catch your breath after the trek back from the sculptor’s workshop.

A plump dream with rosy cheeks and flour-dusted hands sidles up to you, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. "Heard you’ve been out and about," she says, her voice low.

You nod, glancing around to make sure no one else is listening. "Yeah, a bunch of the statues broke in Mervyn's garden."

The dream leans in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Speaking of gardens, did you hear about Lily and Jasper? They’ve been seen sneaking off together at night."

You raise an eyebrow. "Really? I thought Lily was still with Rowan."

The dream shakes her head vigorously. "Oh no, that ended weeks ago. Rowan’s been moping around the village ever since."

Another staff dream joins the conversation, carrying a tray of freshly peeled potatoes. "Lily and Jasper, huh? Makes sense. They always had a thing for each other. Dreams and Nightmares go hand in hand I suppose…"

"Well," you say, leaning in as well with a cheeky smile on your face, "I heard that Ivy's been spending a lot of time with the blacksmith."

The first dream gasps, covering her mouth with her hand. "No! Ivy and the blacksmith? That’s scandalous!"

You nod solemnly, enjoying the teenage like gossip. "Saw them myself near the forge last night. They looked pretty cozy."

The second dream laughs softly, setting down the tray of potatoes. "Guess everyone’s pairing up these days."

"Seems like it," you agree. "Great timing and all that with the realm newly restored."

A tall dream with a chef's hat approaches, wiping his hands on his apron. "What are you all whispering about?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Just catching up on village news," you reply casually.

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Gossiping again? You lot never change." He heads back to his station but throws a wink over his shoulder.

You hear a soft clatter as the tall dream with the chef’s hat returns to his station, leaving you and the two staff dreams to continue your conversation. The warmth of the kitchen envelops you, the comforting smells mingling with the chatter.

"So, what are you going to do about the garden?" asks the first dream, her curiosity evident.

You shrug, leaning back against the counter. "We’ll get those new statues in a few days. Until then, it’s just a matter of keeping things tidy and hoping no more earthquakes hit."

The second dream nods thoughtfully, her eyes drifting toward a window where the golden light of the Dreaming filters through. "Strange how those quakes keep happening," she muses. "Almost like something’s trying to break through."

You glance at her, but she’s already moved on, picking up another tray and heading toward a bubbling pot. The first dream turns back to you, her expression more serious now.

"Do you think it has anything to do with Lord Morpheus?"

The mention of Morpheus sends a ripple through your thoughts. You’ve wondered about that yourself. But before you can respond, another figure enters the kitchen—Lucienne. Her presence commands an air of calm and authority.

"Hello everyone," she greets with a nod, her eyes scanning the room before settling on you. "I heard about the damage in Mervyn's garden. Are things under control?"

You nod, straightening up from your relaxed position. "Yes, we’ve got temporary replacements for some of the statues, and we’re working on getting new ones made."

Lucienne’s expression softens slightly. "Good to hear. We must maintain order in the Dreaming, especially now."

You sense an unspoken concern in her words but choose not to press further. Instead, you offer a reassuring smile. "We’re doing our best. But Luce? I think you might be trying to take on too much work, the library is already a massive job on its own now that its back to its former glory."

Lucienne’s lips twitch into a small smile, a rare sight that softens her usually serious demeanor. "Thank you for your concern. I'll manage, as always. In the mean time… Matthew, it is time you meet our resident dreamer."

A raven pops up from behind Lucienne, fluttering over to a chair back to perch. Your eyebrows rise when the bird gives you a wave with its wing.

"Hi, I'm Matthew," The bird says, making you blink repeatedly. Talking animals were not the strangest creatures you cross paths with but a talk bird was new to you.

You take a moment to absorb the introduction. The raven, perched comfortably on the back of a chair, regards you with keen, intelligent eyes.

"Nice to meet you, Matthew," you say, unsure of the protocol for greeting a talking bird.

"Same here," Matthew replies, his voice surprisingly warm. "Lucienne tells me you've been dealing with some garden troubles."

You nod, glancing at Lucienne. She watches the interaction with a pleased expression. "Yes, the earthquakes have been causing quite a mess."

Matthew ruffles his feathers slightly. "Yeah, those quakes are something else. They’ve got everyone on edge."

Lucienne steps forward, her demeanor shifting to one of quiet authority. "Matthew is Morpheus' new raven and companion. He assists our lord and can act as his eyes."

"Ah, great, so we've got the raven version of the palantíri?" You say dryly. Mattherw hops excitedly.

"Oh my god you've watched the Lord of the Rings!?" The bird cries in excitement. "None of the dreams or nightmares here have any clue about human sculpture.

"So uncivilized," You fake tut, much to the raven's chagrin as he nearly cackles himself to the floor. Matthew hops from the chair to your shoulder, his weight surprisingly light.

"So, what's the plan now?" he asks, peering at you with keen eyes."The boss told me to scram, not exact words but close enough, and I have no idea what to do so I think I'll hang with you."

"Come on, I'll show you what's going on and I'll tell you the plan," You say, departing the kitchen and heading for Mervyn's beloved garden. You reach the crumbling green space and the raven whistles in shock.

"We're just keeping things tidy until the new statues arrive," you reply. "Hopefully, no more earthquakes hit." As you finish explaining the plan to Matthew, the air around you shifts. A palpable stillness descends, and you know who it is even before you turn. Morpheus stands there, his presence dark and enigmatic as ever. His eyes, endless pools of night, lock onto yours.

Who had shit in his Wheaties this morning? You were half convinced the Endless has more mood swings than a human toddler.

You don't air out those thoughts. Obviously.

"I... require a word with you," he says, his voice like distant thunder. It's not a request. You nod, motioning for Matthew to stay put. The raven gives a low whistle but remains perched on your shoulder.

Morpheus glances at the garden, the chaos left in the wake of the earthquakes. "I have been... remiss in my duties as your lord," he begins, each word carefully chosen. "My recent behavior has been... less than considerate."

You study him, noting the slight tension in his jaw, the way his hands remain still by his sides as if he's holding something back. "It's fine," you reply, waving off his attempt at an apology. "More importantly, how are you holding up? I know things have been rough since—"

He cuts you off with a sharp look but softens almost immediately. "Your concern is misplaced," he says stiffly. "I am as I have always been."

You shake your head, stepping closer. "I don't believe that for a second. You were treated terribly, Morpheus. It would break anyone. Especially 106 years stuck in a cage." You don't have the heart to mention Jessamy. You also don't feel like incurring the Endless' wrath either.

For a moment, he seems taken aback, as if no one has dared speak to him like this in centuries. His expression shifts from one of stoic detachment to something more open, vulnerable even.

"You are... different," he murmurs almost to himself. "Few would concern themselves with my well-being."

"Well," you say with a shrug, trying to keep it light despite the gravity of the moment, "someone's got to look out for you too."

He is too hot and stupid to be left to his own devices in your opinion. Kind of like a pouting puppy even.

His gaze softens further, and something akin to warmth flickers in those dark eyes. He studies you intently as if seeing you for the first time.

"Thank you," he says finally, his voice low but sincere.

You offer a small smile in return. "Anytime."

Morpheus stands there for a moment longer before inclining his head slightly in acknowledgment. As he turns to leave, Matthew flutters from your shoulder to Morpheus' side.

The lord of dreams looks back at you one last time before they both disappear into the shifting landscape of the Dreaming. You take a deep breath and get back to work in the garden feeling oddly lighter despite everything that still needs fixing.

Date Published: 7/31/24

Last Edit: 7/31/24

Previous | Masterlist | Next

#morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #dream the endless x reader #sandman x reader #the sandman netflix #morpheus #lord morpheus #dream the endless #dream of the endless #the sandman

146 notes · View notes

gallusrostromegalus · 1 year ago

Note

How does trash pickup, Recycling centers, &/or Hazardous Material Disposal work for Soul Society in AEIWAM? Is there a Kido-based ritual to break things down into Reishi? Are there Tech Repair Shops?

Sewage in Soul Society works really well but very dangerously because those fucking idiots built the city directly on top of an active supervolcano.

Let me back up:

There isn't a good consensus on how big the Seireitei is (Yoruichi says it takes 10 days to walk 1/4th of the way around the circumference, but whether that's her speed, the average person's or how long a patrol group takes is unclear), Or any real maps of the place, but it's generally agreed that

the city is LARGE. Yoruichi says it would take her and the kids ten days to walk to the next gate 1/4th of the way around the city. Maybe that's 8 hours average human walking speed minus 'trying to herd a bunch of teenagers' but that's still a long trip!

Even before the Seki-Seki stone wall was put up, the city was pretty much circular.

Unlike pretty much every real city, there's no river running through it. Where are they getting their water?

There is a Small but substantial and TOTALLY ISOLATED mountain in the middle of the city made of apparently hard-to-mine rock. A Lonely Mountain, one might even say.

The only visible natural sources of water I've seen evidence of are hot springs in both the Yoruichi/Urahara Super Secret Training Ground/Love Nest and the first division grounds.

Soul Society is run by jackasses and if there's a stupid way to do things, that's the way they're doing them.

In fact, the Soul Society as a whole is almost suspiciously Amestris-shaped, but instead of nefarious alchemy, it's negligent civil engineering

...all this leads me to believe that Seireitei is built DIRECTLY ON TOP OF the caldera of an enormous supervolcano. The city gets it's water from the aquifer of rainwater that's collected in the underground cracks and fissures of the Caldera, and the seki-seki stone wall is set up around the really convenient geographic barrier made by the rim of the caldera.

"Hey!" I hear some of you nerds objecting "Aren't calderas usually concave? Seireitei is convex, if anything!"

You're right! Most Calderas are concave! But they will absolutely fill in with sand and dirt over the true floor of the caldera over time and develop Mounts like the thing at the central part of the city and start to rise WHEN THEY'RE ON THE VERGE OF A CATASTROPHIC ERUPTION.

So yeah! The Gotei-13 has an almost infinite supply of hot water, and probably less than a century to figure out what to do before The Big Kaboom.

Anyway, back at sewage:

There's been a city where the Seireitei is since time immemorial, and even though it's done the istanbul-not-constantinopple shuffle a few times, very little of the actual infrastructure has changed. Empires rise and fall but the desire paths stay the same.

This is especially true in Seireitei, because unlike very nearly every major IRL Municipality, it doesn't have a river running through it, something that usually necessitates Sewer updates By Force. But compared to a river which is constantly moving around in it's bed, a volcanic aquifer doesn't move much until it moves a whole fucking lot real fast, so the undercity of the Seireitei has really had time to... Develop isn't quite the right word.

"Ferment" is closer.

Above-ground waste management is the provenance of the actual local city government- yes, there is a Mayor of the Seireitei that the Gotei-13 has to pay property taxes to. Yamamoto maintains a lot of goodwill with the Mayor by dint of sentencing ill-behaved shinigami to shore up the municipal labor pool, and by knowing the mayor's family for the last millennium. So you'll see Shinigami doing things like trash collection and street-sweeping, but they're just there on probation.

-But nobody wanted to deal with the undercity. It's got a soul of it's own. Washington DC, which is less than 500 years old as a city and on top of a swamp, has an undercity that goes down over half a mile. Imagine how deep the sunken buildings, abandoned secret tunnels, and sewer system of a city that's millenia old, not sitting on actual mud and constantly subjected to high levels of magical background radiation might develop.

An Appetite, for one thing.

The 11th likes to talk a big game, but the reason the 4th is in charge of sewer maintenance is because the only people with the guts for it were people who got degrees rummaging in the guts of living people. Sewer maintenance really is a lot like abdominal surgery, if you were able to walk around inside the patient.

It was Retsu Unohana's idea, actually. Chigiri was a battle medic and aged rapidly for a shinigami. She was old when the court guard finally went from "Yamamoto and his gang of assholes" to "A for-real governing body". Her successor, Kirinji was more interested in traumatic injury recovery than preventative medicine, for obvious reasons- his triage was constantly full of combat casualties and early kido experiment victims Blood Loss was still his #1 Killer.

But Retsu had been reincarnated in and spent her youth in South 80, in the utterly undeveloped conditions there, and held deep, personal grudges with Dysentery and Cholera. For all his talk of healing waters, Kirinji had no sense of the importance of water sanitation, and it was a continuous point of contention between them for her apprenticeship.

"FINE!" He shouted one day after a particularly nasty row. "IF IT'S SO GODDAMN IMPORTANT TO YOU, YOU HANDLE IT! FORM NOW ON, YOU'RE IN CHARGE OF SEWAGE, SLUDGE QUEEN!"

She made her first descent the next morning.

She did not return for six weeks, and Kirinji almost thought he'd resloved that particular problem when she reappeared from the depths, a changed woman. That long in the darkness, alongside the buried secrets and skeletons of the city, with the horrors that did not dare brave the sunlight- it would change anyone, and most would come up looking at least mildly haunted.

Retsu Unohana is not most.

She looks radiant, almost like The Kenpachi again, covered in the horrors of the underground as she used to be covered in blood. She thrives on a challenge, and excels at the art of purification, and now, she has been given the single greatest challenge of purification in history. There is something beautiful and terrible in her eyes as she explains that it does down at least five miles, look at this, she thinks it's from the neolithic era, and there are incredible boneyards of thousands of skeletons, and fungi the likes of which she's never seen before- She is ecstatic- a creature kept in captivity, finally released into it's natural habitat.

It's hardly a surprise, if you consider Minazuki. Stingrays are benthic creatures, right at the bottom of the river, deep in the muck and decay.

It's been a little over eight hundred years into her tenure as a medic, and she has tamed much of the beast. The upper levels are well-mapped and have been made clean and well-lit, enough that even the civilian sanitation forces of the city can regularly enter and work in them without any particular unease. Infant and preventable disease mortality has dropped astronomically. Nobody's had cholera since the 1800's . While they have other jobs, all members of the 4th division are required to take at least one tour in the depths of the undercity.

Horrors still lurk in the depths.

They're pretty sure they lost Tokagero Kenpachi chasing one of those, shortly before Unohana became captain, and she's been reluctant to let other divisions assist since then. The Fourth Division's Fourth Seat, rumored to be the unluckiest post in the entire Gotei-13, is permanently stationed underground, and she loves it that way.

It's only recently that the 11th has been allowed to come along on descents, after Zaraki vanished for two days and then emerged victorious from a manhole in the 5th division with a tentacled horror she'd been tracking for decades that lived at least three miles down. He apologized- he had meant to come up in the 4th to present it's corpse to her directly, but well, you know what his sense of direction is like. Anyway, I saw it scuttling around in the rain aquifers and we don't need it tracking literal shit into the water supply so I went after is and d'ya think maybe I can take the lads down sometime? They' get lazy between deployments and you have a triage up here to manage.

Charmed, she agreed.

---

Hm. I just re-read that ask and it's actually about dry waste managment.

Sorry. I got very excited about the sewers.

I am now about to get worse about trash.

I don't think they have plastic in soul society- given how bug-themed the 12th division is, I'm pretty sure the casing on Rukia's soul pager is made of Chitin, and if you break it, it bleeds. Also it makes people with shellfish allergies break out in hives.

Since pretty much all the waste in Soul Society is either recyclable or organic matter, I think those trash pits Yumichika and Ganju were fooling around with are really more like Kido-enhanced composting centers. All waste goes into them and the bottom of the pit is pulled out in a tray, like with a vermiculture tower, if the worms were eighteen and a half feet long and hungry enough to swallow anything that falls in the pit, because Mayuri is incapable of making anything that is not at least slightly awful.

The compost is then shaken out for any spare glass or metal that made it into the compost and that's sent off to the 12th division forges to be recycled. it's baked to kill any dangerous pathogens and Giant Garbage Worm Eggs so they don't breach containment, and measured for nitrogen, phosphorus and other important plant nutrient content. Based on it's composition, it's then shipped out to farmers in the upper districts of the rukongai because "Free, A+ grade fertilizer if y'all don't start revolutions, pay your taxes and give us first dibs on crops" is an amazing incentive for rural farmers to not start backing the local warlords.

It was 12th division founder Uhin Zenjohji who came up wth the scheme- he remembered the lengths upper-district farmers were willing to go through to make sure their land remained fertile, what kind of demand Nitrogen was in, and the ravages of phosphorous runnoff, so he could kill two birds with one clod of shit by supplying farmers with 'free' fertilizer that kept them loyal to the court and was tailored to that area's nutritional needs and watershed capacity.

The fact that it kept a lot of swamp and waterway areas pristine so he could indulge his birdwatching hobby was a nice benefit too :).

NORMALLY, those pits are covered, clearly marked, and usually the site of a major traffic jam because that's the local collection point, but when Ichigo and friends arrived, Aizen had whipped everyone into believing they were being invaded by an elite force of super-assassins and not like. 4 high schoolers and a furry. All the street signs and markings came down, civilians shuttered themselves inside, and generally made the Seireitei as difficult to navigate as possible.

I wonder how much Zaraki's rotten sense of direction was exacerbated by that.

ANYWAY! That's my thoughts on trash! Deep undercity horrors and giant compost worms over an active volcano!

#AEIWAM #an elephant is warm and mushy #bleach #bleach fanfic #Retsu Unohana #zaraki kenpachi #tenjiro kirinji

527 notes · View notes