#also I was asked to draw the side of his face before scarring so here u go

[juunipupu]

Knight and a secret to share

[zae-heeyyy]

Seraphic

Summary: You are Arthur's angel. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female!reader Word count: 2,222 Tags: smut, high honor Arthur Warnings: 18+ MDNI

a/n: Whew 😅 I'm a little nervous to post this one. 🫣 Been sitting on it for a while (no pun intended) I've read and reread it a million times, and I'm ready to share. Also, we're pretending like Arthur's tent actually closes. Anyway thanks for reading!

Seraphic: something angelic or celestial in nature, often suggesting purity, beauty, or holiness.

By 1 a.m., the sounds of camp had reduced to the songs of crickets and the crackle of the fire. While everybody else slept, you waited up for Arthur, reading a book under lantern light in his tent. He arrived eventually, keeping his greeting short and joining you on his cot with slouched shoulders, seemingly exhausted. When he took his hat off, the grimace on his face became all the more apparent. His expression and tense body language told you all you needed to know; whatever happened out there wasn't good.

You handed him a match and a cigarette from his nightstand, and he thanked you with a nod. Using the heel of his boot, he struck the match and lit the cigarette, holding it with his thumb and index fingers. Flickering lantern light and the burning ember tip illuminated his bruised knuckles.

"Should I ask?" You traced a gentle finger over the bruises, and he shook his head.

"Best not," he replied, exhaling a ribbon of smoke.

"Well, I'm glad you're still in one piece," you said, looking him over. His shirt had seen cleaner, less wrinkled days, and sweat plastered his hair to his forehead. "Well, mostly in one piece."

He let out a gust of air, a failed attempt at a laugh, before pinching the bridge of his nose and groaning.

"Headache?" you asked, and he confirmed. The discomfort came with the life he lived. Loud gunfire, the rush of adrenaline, and focusing on his shots all combined to leave him in pain afterward. You exited the tent momentarily and returned with a bowl of warm water, a cloth, and a bottle of miracle tonic.

"Here—for your head." He took the medicine and snuffed his cigarette. Rejoining him, you sat on the cot and dabbed his face with the wet cloth, wiping away dirt and sweat. A soft kiss on his temple prompted him to lean into you, the tension finally dissipating. You wrapped your arms around his big frame and held him close. Obviously, he was your safe space, but oh—were you his. Eyes shut, he rested his head on your bosom.

Arthur found comfort in his typical role as protector and provider. But in these moments, when roles faded, he could feel the weight of the world lifted off his shoulders—a crushing weight he didn't even realize he was carrying. Being with you like this made him wonder if heaven was real because you were godsent.

To Arthur's dismay, you unraveled yourself from him to tie the tent flap closed, sealing the two of you away in the dark. Walking between his legs, you untied his neckerchief and dusted his soiled shirt.

"—Needs a wash. Your blood or someone else's?" you questioned, fingers undoing the top button.

"Not mine," he answered. Peeling the shirt off and tossing it aside, you studied him for a second time tonight. He'd seemed more relaxed than when he arrived, but his brow stayed brooding. Still positioned with his legs on either side of you, you caressed his face, one of your thumbs stroking the hairless scar on his chin.

"What else can I do?"

"You done enough; I'm fine." He gave your hand on his face a reassuring squeeze.

Leaning forward, you kissed him tenderly. His arms wrapped around your waist, drawing you nearer until your foreheads touched. You spoke low against his mouth, a playful grin forming on yours.

"You gotta stop getting yourself into so much trouble, Arthur Morgan."

Your demand was met with a chuckle, and he replied, "I'll do my best, darlin'." You peppered his lips with loving, tender kisses, making him smile against them and squeeze you tighter in a hug. You would do just about anything to see that man smile at you the way he did, all soft and endearing.

Your kisses subsided, but Arthur's affectionate gaze stayed fixed on you. The slight smile on his face had straightened, his expression mirroring the intensity of the one he wore when he first confessed his love for you.

"Got that look on your face," you told him, and he just blinked slowly, awestruck. Though he often swore he was a man of few words, he could fill volumes with his devotion for you. You loved it when he got like that, entranced and overwhelmed with love.

The way he watched you set a fire within you that warmed the most intimate parts of your being. He was surprised when you let yourself fall heavily into him, trying to get as close as possible. Maybe he was going to say something or make a noise, but he didn't have the time before your mouth was on his again, your tongue pushing through his lips to tangle with his. You only pulled away when you needed to breathe.

Instead of pressing your lips to his once more, you dropped to your knees in front of him. Eyes widening, he tried to bring you back up to your feet, shaking his head, once again astounded by you.

"Sweetheart—"

Still on your knees, you patted his cheek and looked up at him with doe eyes. "Shhh, let me take care of you, Arthur." His hand found yours on his face, and he turned to kiss it, nodding placidly. Both of you managed to keep your volume low as you helped him strip down to his union suit. You began working at the buttons of his neckline, doing more ripping than unbuttoning, shoving the fabric down his shoulders.

As more clothing fell away, you trailed sweet kisses down his abdomen. At the same time, his hands roamed wherever they could. The rough pads of his fingers lightly tracing your skin mirrored a faint electric charge. Despite being a brute of an outlaw, he was overly careful with his hands when it came to you; your body was fine china and deserved to be treated as such. Goosebumps formed in a wake left by his touch.

As you kissed down the trail of hair under his belly button, his rapid breathing hitched, and the bulge between his legs strained against the flannel fabric, begging to be unleashed. You tried to find his eyes as you groped him through the underwear, but his head was tipped back, his mouth agape.

"Look at me." You whispered, and he snapped to attention like a soldier following commands. Eyes locked on his, you unclasped the last button, and his length sprung free, the pink head of his cock primed with anticipation. A teasing laugh crept up within you as you trailed soft kisses from the base of his shaft and left one long lingering peck on the tip. The loud, rhythmic thumping of his heart was music to your ears. Not wanting to keep him waiting any longer, you took his entire length in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down, taking him deeper until your nose touched the curly hairs at the base.

Then he couldn't hold it in anymore; a deep, guttural groan escaped him.

Your mouth was the warmest, most intoxicating blanket he'd ever been wrapped in, and he never wanted to leave. He gaped at you, seeing your mouth full of him, his pupils dilated with pure lust. The blunt tip of his cock pressed to the back of your throat, making it constrict around him. His whole body shuddered.

"Look whatchu' do to me, woman," he rattled, tangling his hands in your hair. Despite his eagerness, you withdrew from his aching sex, a string of saliva joining your lips to him. Something reminiscent of a whine exited him when you stepped away, but his open mouth fell shut at the sight of your bloomers slipping down your legs. You kissed him, savoring the salty, bitter taste of his arousal mixed with the tobacco and herbs of his mouth.

"Lay back," you murmured in his ear. Obeying your command once again, he let out a grunt as he felt your weight on top of him. You straddled him, and he held you up, his fingers digging firmly into your sides. Bending at the waist, you kissed longingly, your hips undulating against his. He pulled your nightgown up around your midriff, one of his hands gripping the flesh of your ass while the other one went between your legs. His index finger sank painstakingly into your weeping cunt, then brushed over your clit, making you shiver. He raised himself on his elbows, reaching for the hem of your sleep dress.

"Take this off; let me see you." You raised your arms and let him yank the garment away, leaving you completely exposed on top of him. "Beautiful," he breathed, using the back of his hand to graze your skin. Breathy sighs escaped you as he traced delicate circles around your nipples. His eyes bored into you, absorbing every detail like you were the most captivating thing that ever lived. Hyperfocused on your body, he fondled your breasts before gliding his hands down your torso, ogling, taking all of you in.

Freezing, his stare intensified as you massaged the tip of his cock up and down your glistening slit. Touching his lips to yours, you pushed him into your wet folds. Neither of you could contain the sounds building with you. He split you open, stretching you, making room for him, filling you. You held yourself up with your hands braced on his chest, but you went weak as he bottomed out within you, brushing against that deep, tender spot. You would've fallen if he wasn't there to hold you up, a thought mirroring one he had about you so often.

"I got you," he whispered into your ear. It took every ounce of restraint he had not to snap his hips up into you, the warm embrace of your center clearing his mind and driving him mad all the same. Finally, you started to ride, surging and sinking into him. He was a simple, agnostic man, but being with you like this made him believe in all the theocracy of angels, soulmates, and divine intervention. This was his bliss. This was his heaven, and you were his seraph. He'd go through hell every day if it meant coming home to this—to you. Hypnotized in the rhythm of you, a new thought crossed his mind every time you bounced.

Up.

She's so goddamn beautiful.

Down.

So perfect.

Up.

My girl.

Down.

My girl, my girl, my girl, my girl.

Up.

My angel.

Down.

I love her so much.

Up.

So wet.

Down

So warm.

Up.

So danm tight.

Down.

Shit.

And before you could come back up again, he squeezed his eyes shut, halting your hips with all the strength he could muster, fighting the damn-near irresistible urge to cum inside of you. Sweat had built up on his brow, and his stomach rose and fell quickly with each panting breath. You folded to kiss him, your hard nipples grazing against his chest.

"It's okay," you whispered, patting his face and grinding antagonizingly slow against him. You wanted him—needed him— to come undone for you. With that goal in mind, you picked up the pace and rolled your hips relentlessly, moaning your every thought into his ear.

"You feel so good inside of me."

"I need you."

"I love you."

Your climax was building fast, and you reached to give relief to that sensitive bundle of nerves atop your center. Arthur pushed your hand away swiftly, replacing it with his own. Always a giver, he'd do anything to feel useful while you were treating him like royalty.

While one hand worked your clit, his other gripped the meat of your hip, rocking you in time with his upward thrusts. His head tipped and hit the pillow, and you could feel his thighs tensing and shaking beneath you. Lips parted, he stared up at you. You felt him twitch inside you, and his brow finally relaxed.

That did it for you.

You were wordless as your orgasm ripped through you, your head swirling, and your veins on fire. Arthur's guiding hand on your hip didn't stop, and he fucked you through your climax. Hugging your body close and nuzzling his face into your neck, he growled as he painted your inner core with his own release. You stayed like that, glued to each other as you came down from your highs.

"You're too good for me," he finally said. You clasped a hand into his, kissing the long-forgotten bruises on his knuckles.

"Shut up." You responded, and he didn't say another self-deprecating word. It was the least he could do.

You cleaned up and redressed, nestling into the small, one-man cot. Finally settled for the night, you resorted to your regular bedtime positions: your head on his chest, his arms wrapped securely around you, your legs tangled in one another's.

He rose before you in the morning, perching himself on the cot's edge while you slept behind him. He wrote in his journal, his thumb leaving a smudge on the page:

"For a long time, I believed I could not live a bad life and expect good things to happen to me. Yet somehow, this woman of pure goodness entered my life, and it is clear now that I have been a fool."

[potatoplace]

Gone

Azriel x Archeron!Reader (deceased), Elriel

the 1 | alternate endings: betty | The Prophecy

mini-series masterlist | ACOTAR x reader masterlist

Story Summary: In the wake of your death, Azriel loses everything. And still, you're dead and gone, an aching void felt in those around you.

Warnings: character death (suicide), dead body of reader, grieving, fuck Azriel

Words: ~2.5k

Author's Note: Yes, the title comes from Rosé's 'Gone'. Go listen to it RIGHT NOW. I would say that even without this fic tho lol love me some Rosie 🫶 So here's the first one of the second parts to the 1! I hope you guys like it, and I hope I did all of the characters' reactions justice (especially Miss Feyre) - ALSO thank you for all the love you've given the 1! It was born out of my own crappy day, I'm happy something good came out of it ☺️

18+ only pls

🤍💙🩷💙🤍

Azriel quickly made his way back to Elain, doing his best to put the interaction he had just had with you behind him.

His mate.

Elain’s sister… That’s the only way he had ever thought of you.

As a human you had been… Less than average. Hard to look at.

At least in comparison to Elain.

Elain was a breath of fresh air, so lovely and innocent and so entirely unlike him.

And turned fae, she was even more breathtaking.

He had waited for her to realize how truly damaged and scarred he was, and not just on the outside. How entirely unworthy of her he was.

But she hadn’t. She had seen him, loved him, even with how broken he was on the inside.

And he had meant his words to Nesta, when he had said no one would ever compare to Elain, even his mate.

And he was right. You didn’t compare to her.

But as he reached her side and wrapped his arm around his lovely Elain, he couldn’t help but… wonder.

Had he just made a mistake in rejecting the bond so easily?

His free hand came to rub at his chest, which felt like it was being scraped with a knife, a dull, throbbing pain.

“Are you alright?” Elain’s sweet voice asked, and he tilted his head to look down at her.

A small smile graced his lips. “Of course, sweetheart. Come to the balcony with me, will you?”

The ring he had selected for Elain lay in a white velvet box, tucked safely in his jacket pocket. It was a beautiful ring, a silver band inlaid with glittering diamonds, and a stunning pink diamond as the centerpiece.

You had told him that Elain had always wanted a pink diamond ring.

He hoped you weren’t lying, trying to sabotage his proposal.

He wouldn’t put it past you, mating bonds do make fae rather territorial. Even if Elain is your sister.

He shook the thought out of his head, you had never been anything but kind. Boring, yes. Quiet, yes. But always kind.

Azriel smiled at Elain once they reached the balcony, and they stared out over Velaris together for a moment while he gathered his courage.

“Elain,” he said softly, drawing her gaze to him.

“Yes, love?” Elain asked, her lips curving upwards, as if she knew what was coming.

Azriel dropped to one knee and pulled the box from his jacket, reveling in how Elain’s eyes lit up.

“Elain, I have loved you for so long now. In fact, I believe I loved you from the moment I set eyes on you all that time ago, in the human lands. Never did I think that I would have the honor of calling you mine, even once. But now, knowing how wonderful you are, I cannot imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone but you. Elain,” he said, cracking open the box and showing her the ring inside. “Will you marry me?”

Tears were streaming down Elain’s face as she beamed down at him. “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!” She squealed, and Azriel quickly slipped the ring onto her left hand before taking her in his arms and spinning her around. “I love you so much, Az. And how did you know I wanted a pink diamond?” Elain asked once he had set her down, giving her time to admire her new ring.

“Oh, I may have asked Y/N for advice on what you’ve always wanted,” Azriel said.

“Ah, that was smart-”

“Oh my gods!” Feyre screamed, cutting Elain off and causing the pair to look over to her.

“What is it, Feyre?” Rhys asked worriedly, panic on his face after Feyre’s outburst.

Feyre took off running before answering, Rhys following immediately, and the rest of the inner circle exchanged looks before sprinting after them, leaving the confused citizens of Velaris behind.

They skidded to a stop at a balcony, where Feyre was leaning over it, sobbing.

“No!” She screamed, a guttural cry leaving her lips as she collapsed to the floor, Rhys barely catching her in time as she passed out in his arms.

“What is it, Feyre?” Nesta asked as she walked over to the balcony, glancing over the side herself. “Mother above! Y/N!” Nesta yelled, the first time that Azriel had heard true, heart wrenching pain in her voice, and she collapsed next to Feyre, tears streaming down her face.

Y/N?

But what would be wrong with Y/N? Azriel had left her in the hallway, not ten minutes before now.

Elain tugged him over to the balcony, her heart rate picking up just from the reactions of her sisters. When she peeked over the side, a scream left her lips, more wounded and hurt than Azriel thought she would ever sound. “Y/N!” Elain cried as she fell next to her sisters, the three of them huddled together once Feyre came to a moment later, her sobs picking up instantly, her hands clutching at her chest.

Azriel dared a glance over the side, his heart dropping to his stomach when he saw it.

Saw you.

Lying there, unmoving, darkness surrounding your body.

He gasped and stumbled back from the balcony, reality hitting him.

Dead.

You were dead.

You were his mate and you were dead!

Tears streamed down his face, and he couldn’t tell exactly what happened next, but soon enough Cassian was flying back up from the ground, your limp, unmoving body in his arms.

The three sisters’ sobs grew louder when they saw you up close, the three of them surrounding your body where Cassian had gently placed it on the floor. Feyre sat with your head resting in her lap, her hands running through your hair as she sobbed. Azriel watched on, a hand covering his mouth as he beheld your lifeless form.

“Why…? Why would she do this?” Feyre cried, resting her head on Rhys’s shoulder when he sat next to her. “I don’t understand, she was fine just a little bit ago…”

Azriel couldn’t help but feel partially responsible.

“I…” He started, but stopped before he got it out.

Nesta’s head whipped towards him, though. “You…? You what, Azriel?” She snapped.

All eyes followed suit, snapping to Azriel’s form, taking in the tears on his cheeks.

“I… Y/N is… was… my…”

“Spit it out,” Nesta growled, her voice icy with rage and grief.

“Y/N was my mate,” Azriel finally whispered.

Everyone gasped, but it was Elain’s face that broke his heart.

“Y/N was… I don’t understand,” Feyre said softly, watery eyes meeting Azriel’s. “What… What happened?” She asked between teary breaths.

“She… She told me, when she had asked to speak with me, Elain.”

“And?” The sharp question came from Rhys.

Azriel hesitated, but the pressure of all those teary eyes had him answering. “I rejected the bond. Just as I said I would.”

“You what?!” Nesta screeched as she launched her body towards him, only stopped by Cassian’s strong arms wrapping around her waist and holding her back from killing his brother. “You found out about the bond and rejected it in the same night?! In less than ten minutes?!”

Feyre was glaring at him, tears streaming down her face, and he was sure that if she wasn’t still cradling your head in her lap that she would be eviscerating him with Nesta’s help.

And Elain… She was staring at him with such sorrow in her eyes, the love that had been shining in them mere minutes before all but gone.

“I… I thought that it was what I should do, I love Elain,” Azriel explained, but he could tell it was the wrong words by everyone’s shock and disgust.

“So you turned down the bond? Just like that? You couldn’t even think about it? When it was Y/N?!” Nesta yelled, her struggles against her mate renewed with her outrage. “What in the hells is wrong with you?” She snarled, silver flames bursting from her fingers.

“You should go, Azriel,” Feyre said quietly, the calm before the storm. And he didn’t want to be here when his High Lady turned into a raging hurricane.

His gaze snapped to Elain, who had turned away from him, instead focusing on where her fingers were caressing your rapidly paling face.

“Az. Just, go home. Okay?” Cassian suggested, his own expression harder than it normally appeared, but still softer than everyone else around them.

Mor and Amren, who had been quiet throughout the ordeal, gave him pitying looks as he turned to leave, his wings drooping to touch the ground.

The three sisters wails grew in volume as he left them, Feyre’s the loudest among them as she mourned her twin, who she’d already lost in death once before, and nearly again to the terror that was the Cauldron.

He could hear the concerned chatter of the citizens of Velaris nearby, a few people daring to venture into the disallowed areas of the House to see what all the commotion had been about. Quickly, Azriel made his way to another quiet balcony, launching himself into the sky.

Tears were still falling from his eyes when he landed in front of his and Elain’s cottage- though he wasn’t sure if he should even call it that anymore.

She still said yes, his shadows whispered to him quietly, their voices tinged with sadness. But… Our mate… they wept softly, coiling tightly around him.

Azriel threw the door open, making a beeline for the bedroom. He collapsed by the foot of the bed, a sob ripping from his throat.

His mate. Gone.

🤍💙🩷💙🤍

Three days later and his mate was being lowered into the ground, her decoratively carved wooden casket slowly taking her to her final resting place.

His mate. Dead.

It had been three days since he and Elain had spoken, though they had laid next to each other in silence each night when Elain came home from planning the funeral and mourning in the company of her remaining sisters.

She looked beautiful today, even in dull black mourning garb. Her engagement ring was still sparkling on her ring finger, the one ray of light still left in his life.

He couldn’t help but feel she was slipping through his fingers, though.

A situation entirely of his own making, he supposed.

After the ceremony and during the wake, he waited for Elain to approach him first.

“Hi, Az,” she said softly, settling herself into the chair next to him. He murmured a soft hello back. “I wanted to… Talk to you.”

“Oh? What about, ‘Lainey?”

A slight blush colored her cheeks at the nickname. “I wanted to know… What you said to Y/N. I just… I need to know if it was just the bond being rejected or…” She trailed off, turning her eyes from his hazel ones to the table.

“If I was needlessly cruel to her?”

Elain pursed her lips together. “Yes.”

Azriel sighed. He had hoped he would never need to admit how horribly his last interaction with his mate had gone. “I… I was not kind to her, not like I should have been. I wish I could change how I rejected her Elain.”

Elain’s mouth turned downwards. “What exactly did you say?”

Azriel looked at the ground. He couldn’t meet her eyes as he repeated his awful words to her, her eyes widening by the second.

“I… Azriel, I am sorry, but I cannot marry you.” She slipped the ring, the ring that was so, perfectly Elain, off of her finger and onto the table, sliding it over to him. “I would not be able to marry someone who could say such things to someone, let alone to my sister and their mate. I… I wish you the best. I’ll move my things out of the cottage as soon as possible.”

And with that, Elain stood from the table and walked back to where her sisters and his brothers were sitting, leaving him and his broken heart in her wake.

She’s right, master, the shadows whispered to him. You hurt our mate badly. She is gone.

Tears pricked Azriel’s eyes again.

A few minutes later, a black cloud encroached on his field of view-

His High Lady.

“You said WHAT to my twin?!” Feyre screamed at him, darkness flooding his vision. “You thought being her mate was a joke?! And when it wasn’t a joke, you told her she would never compare to Elain?! And that waiting for your mate, the one who was made for you, was a waste of time?! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Feyre raged, her inner beast coming out, only for Azriel to see.

And he was horrified, terrified as his High Lady pinned him to the ground, talons cutting into the skin of his throat and piercing his left wing.

“I should rip you limb from limb,” Feyre hissed, her voice more animal than fae. “It is only for my mate that I will not, but you will leave this court and never return. Better yet, leave the fucking continent so that I am less tempted to hunt you down and slaughter you anyways.”

And then Feyre was off of him, letting her claws slice into his neck, just barely missing his jugular. The darkness receded, leaving him lying on the ground bleeding and Feyre standing over him, appearing as a fae again.

“Azriel.” Rhys approached the two of them, followed closely by Cassian, and extended a hand to help Azriel up. “Brother, you know that I love you. But… You can’t stay here. Not now. Not after… This.” A heavy sigh left his brother’s lips.

Cassian hugged him tightly, careful to avoid brushing against his now punctured wing.

“I’ll miss you, brother. Take care of yourself… Don’t… Don’t do anything stupid, okay?” Cassian said quietly, tears shining in his eyes.

“I second that, Az. Be smart, hmm? I’m sure that you’ll find somewhere to hear from this, to change from this,” Rhys said aloud. Then, he spoke into his mind, “I know Feyre said to never return but… If you could, I would like for you to check in with me every month or so. Just to know that you’re alright.”

“I will,” Azriel replied in a soft voice, his throat sore from where Feyre had held him and cut him. “I am sorry, for what it’s worth,” he added as he regarded the three remaining Archeron sisters, knowing it would likely be the last time he would see any of them.

And then he took to the skies, even with his punctured wing making flight painful and more difficult than it had been since he first learned.

His mate, gone.

His family, gone.

It’s what I deserve.

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff @lilah-asteria

'the 1' Taglist: @blackgirlmagicforever @historygeekqueen @angelbunny222

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Eri Reader in Demon Slayer with the Hashira’s? She was teleported at the Demon Slayer Corps and the Hashira thought she’s a Demon because of her horn

Sanemi cuts himself to show Eri’s ‘True Colors’, only for Eri to take off some of her bandages around her arm to rap around Sanemi’s wound, showing her small arm littered in old and new scars (Shocking the Hashira)

The Hashira realize Eri’s not a Demon, rather she’s a human child with a powerful ability called Rewind

Shinobu did a little test with Eri’s blood, not finding a single trace of demonic essence in her blood, only that her cells have an incredible regeneration and repairing ability inside (Giving her a good idea why Eri has so many scars, making her feel disgust and anger)

The Hashira are shocked to learn Eri doesn’t know how to smile (After asking what Sanemi was doing with his face)

Eri becomes close with all the Hashira’s, but her personal favorites are Mitsuri, Rengoku and Gyomei (She likes Gyomei the most) though she also likes Sanemi and Obanai even if they come off cold and harsh at times, she doesn’t take it personally

This is before Mugen Train

-The Ubuyashiki compound was filled with shouting when you suddenly dropped down through a swirling portal, looking ragged and rather panicked which unfortunately only got worse as these unknown people were all quickly yelling at you, drawing swords and weapons, calling you a demon.

-The moment you burst into tears was when several of the Hashira realized you were out in the sun, and you weren’t burning like normal demons.

-Mitsuri quickly had you in her arms, hugging you close while Obanai and several others yelled at her, thinking you were going to attack her, but your tears slowed, a bit surprise she was being so gentle with you, like you weren’t used to being treated so gently.

-Ubuyashiki arrived and you were brought inside, and his daughters described you as a young child in a rather dirty dress, bandages covering your arms, legs, and neck, with a small horn on only one side of your forehead.

-You were a little scared, introducing yourself after he asked, “I’m Y/N.” you little voice was so small and broken, Gyomei and Mitsuri were both quickly in tears, worried about you.

-He asked you what had happened, and you explained, “I was running from Overhaul- I didn’t want to be hurt anymore, and I saw a sparkly portal and I ran to it, and I was suddenly here.”

-They didn’t recognize the magic, as it didn’t sound like a demon blood art, or at least one that they heard of before Sanemi stood, “This is ridiculous Master! Y/N is just going to attack us when our guard isn’t up! Isn’t that right demon?!” as he said this, he grabbed the front of your dress, hauling you up, trying to intimidate you before he threw you down with a sharp cry leaving your lips.

-He pulled out his blade and your eyes went wide, thinking he was going to hurt you before he sliced his own arm open, “Demons can’t resist the smell of blood- do it! Attack me so it proves you’re a monster!”

-You were in shock, seeing that he hurt himself before you quickly stood up, rushing to him and he smiled, thinking he was right, before you quickly pulled some of your bandages off, revealing your scars as you tried to wrap his cut, tears slipping down your cheeks, “Don’t hurt yourself!”

-All eyes were on you, blinking in shock, seeing you trying to treat Sanemi’s wound while you were trying to stop crying, your little hand coming to rub at your eyes, sniffling softly.

-They were able to confirm you weren’t a demon, after Shinobu took a small sample of your blood, you were a normal human, just with a small horn on your head. Shinobu and Mitsuri took care of you, giving you a bath and Amane provided a spare kimono with a simple checkered pattern.

-When you were brought before the rest of the Hashira, Mitsuri hugging you while crying, not able to handle how they found your little body, Shinobu gave her report that you had been tortured, like you had been experimented on.

-Others were furious to hear how a child had been treated as Ubuyashiki spoke, “Y/N- you mentioned someone before, Overhaul, was he the one who did this to you?”

-You were a little hesitant in answering, giving a small nod which Amane told him, as you realized he was blind by the wound on his face, making your heart ache.

-Amane, trying to lighten the mood, spoke, “Do you like your kimono, Y/N?” your cheeks turned a bit pink, looking down a bit shyly, “Is it really okay for me to have something this nice?”

-This made the mood worse however, as this was just a simple spare kimono, but you were acting like it was a treasure you had been blessed with.

-Ubuyashiki was the only one who appeared calm, “Why did he do this to you?” you hesitated in answering, remaining silent for a moment, “He was trying to turn my quirk into a weapon.”

-You were surprised when they told you they didn’t know what a quirk was, as you were used to everyone having one, and you explained, where you came from, everyone had abilities, some small and some big and flashy.

-Shinobu then spoke, curious, “And what is your quirk, Y/N?” you held up your hands, biting your bottom lip only for a moment, “He called it Rewind, he said I could rewind things.”

-This did little to help, as they were all confused and you spoke up, feeling a bit scared but also willing to show them that you meant no harm, because they weren’t hurting you or being mean, not counting your first meetings with them.

-You stood and approached Ubuyashiki, holding out your hands, “Can I- can I show you?” the Hashira were quickly on the defensive, thinking it was a trap, still not fully trusting you, but it was Ubuyashiki who stunned all by reaching up, taking your hands.

-Your horn flared to life, a bright colored aura covering it which surrounded him and all in attendance froze as his curse slowly receded, bit by bit, until only a mark by his hairline was visible as you let out a raspy pant, falling back as your face flushed with a fever.

-Several shouted out your name in worry, Amane getting to you first, while several others shouted out Ubuyashiki’s name, completely stunned that you were able to do this. You were able to reverse the curse of a demon!!

-A few hours later, when your fever finally broke, Sanemi was sitting next to you after you had been presented with a meal, something simple, “It’s so yummy!” he couldn’t help but glare, angry about how you had been treated, it made him think of his siblings.

-He had been the one to watch you, while the others were in a meeting, with hopes that he would be nicer to you, or else.

-When you were done you looked down at his arm that was more properly bandaged, “Do you want me to heal that?” he was surprised, but gave you a grin, “Nah- I’m gonna let it heal the old-fashioned way- it will make for a cool scar!”

-You were surprised by this before you lifted one of the sleeves, looking at your own scars, “Scars are cool?” he hesitated in answering, while he earned his in battle against those who earned them, you were tied down and hurt in a cruel way.

-He ruffled your hair lightly, surprising you that he was so gentle, “Yeah- but only if you think they are.” You looked up at his face, cupping his cheeks, “What are you doing with your mouth? I saw Mitsuri and Shinobu doing it too.”

-Moments later he stormed into the meeting, holding you in his arms, flames of fury surrounding him as he told everyone you didn’t know what a smile was or how to do one.

-The discussion on how they needed to keep you safe, as they knew Muzan wouldn’t hesitate to use you, as your ability was something astounding but also dangerous, as most of them were quickly shouting, lamenting your bad fortune, and preparing an attack on Overhaul, wanting to seek him out.

-You were in Gyomei’s arms, who was crying while you were trying to calm him down, trying to wipe his tears, which only made things worse, seeing what a kind heart you had.

-Ubuyashiki couldn’t help but smile, seeing how lively everyone was- they were all going to help you, no matter what.

[ahllohehn]

Gem's area ,or whatever the Oracle has, has two kinds of decorations cute cottagecore stuff, and spooky stuff like skulls and stuff

An excerpt from the Camp Oracle's Journal:

"I put some fairy lights and curtains around the cave to make it seem homier. I also made a really wide tent filled with blankets and pillows to add up to the comfiness. After all, it was going to be my home for the next few weeks until I had to go back to school. Actually, it’s gonna be my home for the next summers to come!

There’s not much yet, but I hope to add more soon. Grian’s sister, Pearl, came to visit for a while to get a look at the new oracle (aka me). She was really nice! She helped me out on setting up the decorations around my cave and even gave me an old plushie of hers to add to my tent.

It was a well-loved wolf plushie, if the way the seams were already threatening to burst from just how much it’s been hugged, probably.

I didn’t want to take it at first because, you know, sentimental value! I couldn’t just take away her childhood plushie! But she was really adamant about giving it to me. She reasoned that Tilly (the name of the plushie, by the way) would be safer with me than it was with Grian.

Pearl couldn’t take the plushie with her because she’s always on the move with the goddess Artemis, Hunters of Artemis duties and all that. “It’d be a shame if it got lost mid-expedition,” she said.

And who was I to reject after that reason, you know? So now I have little Tilly living with little Gem in the super comfy and cool Oracle cave!"

Thank you for continuing to read! Have a tour of what's inside of Gem's cave:

COMFY CORNER OF THE CAVE

Cat beanbags and plushies - The cat beanbag is customized to look like Jellie. It was mainly put there during times Scar comes by to hang out with her so he wouldn't have to stay for too long on his wheelchair while visiting.

Seawater rug - Personally sewed by Xisuma after hearing that Gem had interest in marine biology. He wanted her to feel happier when resting in her cave since the cave was too far from the shore and the sea.

Aquatic animal plushies - Impulse and Skizz excitedly came over to give her fish plushies as a welcome gift. The clownfish is named Skizzy. The shark is named Impy, named accordingly to who gave which.

Small foldable table - Gem doesn't fold it often as she keeps her art stuff on it. She draws and makes the pins here.

BY THE WALL

Skull-shaped fairy lights - Not always green in color, but she keeps it green to make everything feel creepy. She had normal fairy lights before this but Cleo jokingly replaced it with string lights she bought during Halloween. Gem liked it so she kept it.

Worn out sword / Worn out shield - Not hers to begin with. They're actually normal weapons Etho had forged as practice before. He gifts them to Gem everytime she wins a spar against him to act as 'spoils of war.'

DESK / CURTAINED SIDE

Desk - There's chairs facing each other on each side of the table. This is where she mainly meets the campers for personal prophecies.

A line of potted plants along the wall - Bdubs offered to give her plants he thinks Gem would like to care for. There's mostly small sunflowers and succulents along the wall. One of the potted plants grew a particular one Gem never saw before. It was only when Pearl came over and questioned why she had a moonlace flower in her cave that she realized she was growing a magical plant. Bdubs never answered as to why he gave it to her.

TENT

Where Gem mainly sleeps. In here, you will never feel uncomfy as she's probably got 20 pillows and 5 blankets in there. Pearl's old plushie, Tilly, lives there with her. Grian asks to come in and cuddle with it when he has a particularly rough day.

about au au tag discord

[catcze]

thinking ab the way wriothesley would cry so hard the first time you hug him ... he has never felt comfort in his life and i stand by that 😿

Wait;;; :((( oh wait ur right :((( [also side note i feel like this takes place a little bit after he became the administrator, before he got his title. Hence why he's not as blase about the shit he's gone thru in the same way that he is in his story quest. ]

"Can I give you a hug?" You ask him out of the blue, and Wriothesley stills at his desk.

He's not sure what's brought this on— hell, you're not even sure what's brought this on, but you figure there's no harm asking.

"I—" The word gets caught in his throat, and his brows furrow in contemplation. One of his hands goes to scratch at the back of his neck, and against all odds, he actually looks a little nervous. "I cen't recall the last time I had a hug. Probably was—"

Probably was when he was still with his foster parents.

The unspoken thought hangs between the both of you, dampening the mood slightly as you realize that all those memories of warm hugs have long since soured for him. Wriothesley quickly clears his throat.

'But if you're offering... well, I don't see why not."

Delighted, you instruct him to stand, and quickly make your way in front of him. You're a little nervous now too, all too aware of how messed up his foster parents were. Aware of how messed up his young adult years were, growing up in an environment where he had to fight for his survival. All you could offer him right now was a hug, but at the very least you hope that he could hold onto it as a good memory.

"Go right ahead, Sweetheart," Wriothesley says, opening his arms wide.

You waste no time in wrapping him up in your embrace— your arms snake around his torso, crushing your chests together. This close, you can feel the quick beat of his heart, warm and rapid and alive in his chest. Your hands go to his back, one of them rubbing soothing circles into the planes there, while the other gently guides his head to rest on your shoulder. Thankfully, he poses practically no resistance to you, letting you guide his body around you with ease.

His arms wrap around you in turn. Tentatively, as if he's scared of shattering you in his hold. Or perhaps he fears the reverse.

Wriothesley's hands settle on your waist, keeping you snug against him. With each circle you rub on his back, each gentle scratch you give to his scalp, his grip tightens bit by bit.

You pour out every single ounce of love you can into the hug. Every warm thought you have of this scarred man in your arms, every adoring thing you can think about to comfort him. You hold him close in a hug that is neither too loose but is not chokin. A hug that is just enough, as if you mean to mend together those invisible wounds that he still carries.

The hug goes on longer than socially acceptable, but neither of you find it in you to care. Wriothesley is practically boneless in your hold, leaning a large portion of his weight against you. He's quietly hugging you back, face buried in your shoulder, trembling just the slightest bit with every comforting scratch or pat or circle you draw on his skin. Wriothesley does not shake, he does not fall. He doesn't let a single noise escape him, save for a single shuddering breath that you feel from his chest.

You let him bury himself in your hold for as long as he wants and as long as he needs. You'll embrace him for as long as he needs, to make up for all the lonely years he's spent without a single hug.

And if you feel a dampness on the shoulder of your shirt, then you promise you won't tell anyone.

[ #Taglist registration here !! ]

[quillcraftconquer]

Beneath Us (Ghost x Fem Reader)

Note: This is an angst filled fanfiction I will be posting on Ao3 and here. Character information, background, etc will not be entirely accurate to CoD or real life.

1.1k words.

Fuck.

My back curled against the hardened cot, the familiar ache sending a dull, constant pain down my spine. I blinked away the lingering sleep, my eyes focusing on the dark mattress above me. The soft snores emitting from the bed told me my sergeants, Ethan and Maverick, were still asleep. I wrapped my fingers around my phone and squinted against the harsh light of the screen.

0300.

Ethan and Maverick would wake in a few hours, ready to start the day. I always woke up before them, partly because I felt a Lieutenant should lead by example, and partly because the scar on my back began to remind me of its presence in the early morning hours. 

I planted my feet on the cold floor, rolling my neck side to side. When I opened my eyes again, Maverick was propped up on an elbow on the bed across from Ethan and I. 

“Alright?” He asked, voice still hoarse with sleep.

“I’m alright.” I replied, flinging my blanket to his bed to cover his feet poking out at the end of his bed. Maverick, who had earned the nickname Bull on account of his size and inability to be quiet in small spaces, caught the blanket and uttered a grunt of gratitude before laying back down. 

I made my way to our shared living space, settling on the sofa with the files I had been given containing the details for our next deployment. Laswell had mentioned partnering with a task force with the intentions to utilize Ethan’s interpretation skills and Maverick’s cyber operations. My job was to keep both of them alive.

“You look like shit.” Ethan mumbled as he entered the room, making a beeline for the refrigerator. 

“You look like shit, lieutenant.” I corrected him, and Ethan turned to give me a mock salute in response. I ignored him, tossing the files onto the coffee table. 

“Is it part of the body's natural process after 30 to wake up looking like that?” Ethan asked, pouring himself a bowl of cereal. The sound summoned Maverick, who took the bowl as Ethan was putting the milk back into the fridge.

“Thanks, Hooch.” Maverick said, joining me on the sofa. Ethan gave him the middle finger, pouring another bowl. 

“I’m not over 30, I’m 30.” I mumbled, and Ethan pointed his spoon at the files.

“Who are we working with?” He asked. I flipped the file’s open, spreading them across the coffee table. 

“Captain John Price, two sergeants, and his lieutenant.” I answered, and Maverick leaned forward to peer at the files. 

“No photo? No name?” Maverick asked, pointing at the near empty file I had also been questioning. 

“Goes by Ghost, I was told. No photo, doesnt show his face.” I answered. 

“Ever?” Ethan asked, eyebrows raising in question. 

“He that ugly?” Maverick asked, digging into his bowl.

“I dont care what he looks like, I care he keeps you alive.” I said, folding the files back shut. 

Maverick grunted in agreement, settling back onto the sofa to finish his bowl of cereal. Ethan, who Maverick had once deemed Ethanol, and quickly shifted to calling him “Hooch” on account of the copious amounts of alcohol he could consume, was the exact opposite of Maverick. Maverick, who was 6’5 and every bit of 240lbs of solid muscle, towered over Ethan’s 5’7 frame. Ethan was lean, loud, and proud with a heart of gold. He was also a smart ass who could press every button you had. 

“Just come back to me alive.” I joked, passing Simon his favorite jacket that hung on the doorknob of the apartment. 

“Always.” Simon promised, his hands pressing against my back and drawing me in close to his body. His lips pressed against mine, sealing his promise to me. 

“I know you won't be able to call me until you're back, so I left some letters in your bag for you to read. I’ll be back in the states for a few weeks and then I’ll come visit you, yeah?” I said, my hands giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. 

Simon’s hands cradled each side of my face, his deep brown eyes glimmering with soft intensity. Rich, dark color that reminded you of the earth after rain. Solid, grounding, and a familiarness that felt like home to me now. 

“I love yo-”

“I’ll go grab the bags, I saw the flight was going to be 14 hours. I want the window seat.” Ethan said, depositing his bowl in the sink and bringing me back to reality. Maverick clapped me on the shoulder, following Ethan back to the rooms. 

The plane rumbled under our bodies, my fingers tightening on the arm of the seat. I hated flying. I closed my eyes tightly, shutting out the sound of the engines. I brought my index finger to the pad of my thumb, remembering the technique that my lieutenant had taught me. 

“Think of a time you had just accomplished something physically exhausting. Remember how your muscles relaxed, how rewarding the pain felt.”

I thought back to practicing defense tactics with the other soldiers, the smell of sweat clinging to the wrestling mats. I thought of the way we smiled and laughed with each other.

I touched my middle finger to the pad of my thumb.

“Think of love, or a positive moment in your life. It could be anyone. Your family, you friends, your-”

I swallowed, thinking of Simon’s hands caressing my waist, the soft sheets of our bed laying over our bodies as the sun glowed through the curtains.

I touched my ring finger to my thumb, my mind pleading to still the shakiness of my hand.

“Think of a compliment-”

“Just come back to me alive.”

“Alwa-”

My eyes shot open, a sigh escaping my mouth. Maverick snored lightly next to me, his legs stretched out into the aisle. Ethan’s head rested against the open window, a steady bass coming from his earbuds. 

I had to let it go. Simon had gone missing almost a decade ago. Throughout those years I kept telling myself the same thing, I had to let it go. I had to let him go. I had done all of the steps. I went to therapy, I dated other people, fuck, I even tried celibacy. Nothing stopped the deep pang I felt in my chest when I thought of him. Where he was, if he was dead, or if he was alive and if he thought of me like I thought about him. 

“We’re here.” Ethan said, pulling the earbuds out of his ear. I nudged Maverick with my elbow, nodding at the bags above our heads. Maverick reached up, pulling them down one by one and passing them to us. The plane landed, and I stood in the aisle between Maverick and Ethan, facing our unknown. 

[vibrantstarfire]

silly prompts? silly prompts about dc characters? might i throw: cass cain interacting with crystal brown for you to consider and see if that might intrigue you?

ok so i had an idea the other day about like bruce sucking at being a girl dad and basically forgetting that periods exist. what if crystal brown filled this role instead?

also i KNOW you said silly but i am sooo bad at writing characters having an unabashedly good time so this is as fun and lighthearted as it gets. also remember when i said 1K is the max word count i can have. do you remember that. because not one of these has been under 1K lmao

////

Crystal Brown has just finished a 12-hour shift at the clinic and a half-hour commute to boot. She is ready for exactly one microwaveable meal, one chore-check to see if the dishes and laundry have gotten too dire before her next day off, and maybe one episode of shitty reality TV – The Bachelor – that Stephanie will usually sit with her and make fun of before a blissful eight hours of sleep. 

So she is surprised to hear the TV already turned on to her shitty reality TV. It’s odd. Stephanie never watches it without her. It's just not as fun for her to make fun of on her own, god forbid her irony-loving daughter watching a show purely for the love of watching it.

“Stephanie?” she calls as she sets her bags down. “I hope you’re not using up the pre-recordings, I don’t want to miss the finale.” 

No one answers. Crystal frowns. Maybe she left it on before she left? That would be terrible, she really was looking forward to the season finale, and it's so hard to find the pre-recordings after watching them. She doesn't want to have watched the entire season of The Bachelor just to miss the final episode. And this season was wild, especially after two of the girls left with each other instead, thus making one subsequent episode end with no one going home. Now that it's down to the final two as scheduled, Todd probably doesn’t deserve either Graciela or Kaiden, especially when Stephanie said Todd had at least two DUIs that his wealth and handsome face can’t quite distract from. But it’s fun to watch. It’s not meant to be critically examined, she keeps telling Stephanie. 

After she's unpacked the necessities from her purse and refilled her water bottle, she can't help but notice that a few other things are off about her home.

For one, there are more wrappers around the kitchen than usual. Stephanie isn’t the tidiest, but she usually at least throws things away after using them. 

Feeling a little frustrated, Crystal scoops the wrappers up, sighs pointedly, and tosses them before they can draw ants. She’ll definitely be talking with Stephanie about this. The last thing she needs after a 12-hour shift is to come home to a mess. 

“Stephanie,” she calls again, trying to keep her patience. “If you’re home, answer me.” 

And then, she has the sudden sensation of being watched.

Crystal tenses and stands up straight.

And just across the kitchen, standing at the other side of the island as if she's been here the entire time, is an unfamiliar asian girl, around Stephanie's age.

Crystal almost has a heart attack. Crystal holds a hand to her heart, prepared to fight if she needs to, because what the actual hell is this strange girl doing in her house? She opens her mouth to ask who she is and why she's watching TV in her house, when the girl speaks. 

"Not Stephanie," she says. "But... Hi, Stephanie's mom."

"Is there a reason you broke into my house, Not Stephanie?"

“Stephanie told me to come if there was … if I had an emergency. I thought she would come home first.” She glances at the suddenly wrapper-less countertop, and does look genuinely apologetic. “Sorry. Meant to clean up.”

Crystal looks at the girl closer. Even from across the countertop island, she can tell this girl is smaller than Stephanie. And, upon slightly closer examination, extensively scarred. 

Crystal has a bad feeling she knows just what activity Stephanie knows her from.

She pinches the bridge of her nose and gives herself just a moment to tamp down her frustration. But the girl hasn’t made a move to kill her, so if she’s a vigilante, she’s not that kind of vigilante. And she did say Stephanie had invited her. So for now, Crystal won’t kick her out. She looks seventeen, maybe nineteen at the most. She doesn't exactly look like a threat. 

And she did mention an emergency. 

“What is the emergency you came here for?” Crystal asks, with a herculean effort at being the adult in the room. 

“Bleeding.” 

Crystal’s brows raise. She looks at the girl’s extensive scarring, and despite being thoroughly tapped out of nurse mode after twelve hours on the clock, it doesn’t take that much effort to get back into it. At least it makes marginally more sense for Stephanie to have asked her friend to come here if she needed medical attention, though it's odd that the girl had expected Stephanie to be home first if that was the case. “Okay,” she says, professionally. She's already reaching for the first aid kit she keeps in her purse. “Where are you bleeding? I can stitch it, if you need, –I’m sorry, Stephanie didn’t mention you, can you tell me your name?” 

“Cassandra. Cass.” The girl, Cass, looks uncomfortable giving it. Or maybe uncomfortable at the thought of stitches. “It can be stitched?” 

“Well, where are you bleeding?”

"...Pelvis? Not sure what the right word is." Cass points down below. The kitchen island blocks her view, but it's clear she's indicating her pelvic and pubic area, somewhere in her inner groin. Crystal frowns. If this girl was hurt in such a sensitive area, it seems odd that Stephanie would just leave her alone here.

The more Crystal thinks about it though, the less she’s sure of what Cass means. Has she been cut? Is this a vaginal tear? Some combination of both? Sexual abuse isn’t exactly rare in Gotham, so it’s hard to rule anything out. Either way, it would definitely count as an emergency. Crystal just wishes she knew whether Cass was a minor or not – she’d need to ask different questions, and figure out whether or not CPS or the foster system needed to get involved, if so. 

She can’t do anything until she knows exactly what’s wrong, though. 

“Can you tell me a little bit more about how you got hurt? Is it a cut that needs stitches, or something else?”

“It doesn’t…” Cass frowns, looking like she’s struggling for the words. “Stephanie said it didn’t need stitches.”

“But it is a cut?”

“It's bleeding.” 

“Then whether it needs stitches is for a nurse to decide,” Crystal says, and is going to have A Talk with Stephanie about giving medical advice. “How long have you been bleeding? How much blood have you lost?” 

“Two days,” Cass says. “More blood than usual.”

And something shifts.  

Crystal tilts her head to the side. “When you say bleeding,” she says, calmly, “Does this bleeding happen often?” 

Cass makes a face as she thinks about it. “Not often,” she says. “A few times a year. More, now.” 

That doesn’t quite disprove Crystal’s theory, though it does mean there might be other complications. “When you talked with Stephanie about this earlier," she says, "Did Stephanie call it anything?”

“Shark week.” Cass wrinkles her nose.

Crystal heaves a deep sigh, changes the discussion she’s going to have with Stephanie to be one about properly naming medical terms, and puts the first aid kit away. “Okay,” she says, and mentally recalibrates most of their conversation. It now makes perfect sense. Of course Cass would be wary of being stitched up for menstruation. “Did she show you where the extra pads and tampons are? Or ibuprofen?” 

Cass shakes her head. 

“Alright then. Follow me,” Crystal says, and directs her to the bathroom, where Stephanie usually keeps extra pads and tampons. She realizes now that the girl’s comfortable pants are quite noticeably stained, even from the front, and she feels a pang of sympathy. She also, more self-interestedly, hopes that nothing else is stained. She can’t afford a new couch right now. 

Within a few minutes, Crystal has given the girl a new set of underwear and pants, taught her how to apply a pad, and given her a heating pad and some ibuprofen. 

(Apparently period cramps don’t hurt nearly as badly as being shot, but after some prodding, she did get Cass to admit that she was a little bit uncomfortable.)

After that, there’s not much to do. 

Crystal still wants her microwaved meal and to watch the season finale of The Bachelor. But she’s got the feeling that if she kicks this girl out, she won’t have anywhere else to go. And, well. The couch isn’t ruined, thanks to a few towels the girl had found instead. She's been polite enough, and she's not a threat. There’s no reason she can’t stay in the living room if she’s got nowhere else to go. 

So after some careful deliberation, Crystal pulls out two microwave meals, and heats them up simultaneously. 

They spin in the microwave for quite some time. 

After they're almost done, she asks, “Is Stephanie not coming home tonight?” 

Cass watches her curiously from across the kitchen. She shakes her head, no. 

“Well, I’m not waiting to watch the season finale without her,” Crystal says with an air of finality, and tries not to listen to the pang of anxiety that always comes with not knowing her daughter's whereabouts. They'll fight about it tomorrow, she knows. She just hopes that her daughter comes home by tomorrow. “You’ll just have to watch it with me instead.” 

Cass stares at her. 

The microwave dings, and Crystal pulls out two meals, handing one to her strange guest. “I hope you don’t mind Stouffers.” 

Cass takes it silently. Surprised, it seems, at the hospitality. Crystal is, too. 

As they settle in for the pre-recording, forks scraping the microwaveable plastic tins, Crystal feels strangely in sync with her guest. At least Cass, unlike Stephanie, seems to have a more honest appreciation of The Bachelor. 

“Kaiden doesn’t like him as much as Graciela does,” Cass comments mid-way through the finale. She shakes her head in disapproval as the episode cuts to commercial, right before Todd makes his final decision between the final girls. “They won’t be happy together if he chooses her.”

“I know,” Crystal says, shaking her head. “But Kaiden is rich, so Todd will probably pick her.” 

“Shallow,” Cass says, mouth half full. “Boo.” 

She sounds a little like Stephanie, and Crystal hides a smile in her next bite. “If it makes you feel better, Graciela is probably going to be on the next Bachelorette.”

Cass looks up, brows furrowed. “Bachelorette?”

“Well… yes. Instead of the girls competing for one boy, it's several boys competing for a girl.” Crystal has the spark of an idea. She hesitates, only for a moment. Then, “Do you... want to watch it together, when it comes out?” 

It’s a way to keep an eye on this strange, scarred friend of her daughter’s, who’s in her late teens and didn’t quite seem to understand periods. But, even more importantly, if she steals her daughter’s friend, maybe there’ll be some more earnest appreciation of reality TV in the Brown household. 

Cass looks at her for a long moment. Then, once and decisively, nods. “Yes,” she says, and then, as if only just remembering her manners, adds- “Yes, please.” 

“Well, the next season of the Bachelorette will start a month from now,” Crystal says. “You’ll probably need some more period supplies by then anyway. Stop by and we’ll get you fixed up with that, too.” 

Cass’s face changes a little, somewhere between confusion and surprise. She nods again, this time silently. Crystal doesn't press. She has a feeling that a month from now, her strange guest will have reappeared at the end of her shift.

At least by then, she'll have had a chance to buy a few extra period supplies and underwear. Just in case.

[blasphemousclaw]

thank you for being so normal about the hornsent 🙏 Thank you cause jesus christ. anyways for the ask ermm The hornsent npc melina or messmer

you’re welcome I just got so attached to the hornsent while playing the dlc! after watching Belurat burn in the story trailer, going into the ruined city in the game and seeing all the graves and mourning spirits really affected me, and I’m honestly shocked that such a huge portion of the fanbase didn’t feel the same way. also they are literally so cool like look at their art and architecture. their armor sets. their divine beast dancing lion. if people can’t enjoy that because they’re “evil” well I have great news. they are not real

anyway here’s capital H Hornsent my best friend Hornsent

• favorite thing about them

how his quest ends with him attacking us no matter what we do. I know I know! it’s so frustrating that we can’t convince him we’re on his side! but the fact that he tries so hard to push us away just makes me love him more! he refuses our second offering of scorpion stew because he isn’t here to make friends, he’s here to win he’s given his life for his revenge... his line “I wish not to friendship kindle” drives me crazy because we have this moment of human connection with him, which he acknowledges, but he can’t let himself lose sight of his purpose! admit it Hornsent. you like me

also his character design and voice acting are fantastic

• least favorite thing about them

I already like how his character is handled but I think it would be even stronger if he or someone else dropped a few more details about life in Belurat before the crusade. he enacts his revenge not just in the name of his murdered family but his entire culture, and it would be nice to learn a few more hornsent cultural details through him!

• favorite line

“What’s this? Do you think me in need of alms? Ah… but this dish. Tis fare o’ the tower. I remember fondly this kin-clad scent. …Brings back memories I’d all but forgot. This, by my troth, is but a dismal copy. Indeed, I think it rather plain to see… things once broken can never be the same.”

I love the scorpion stew interaction so much! “things once broken can never be the same” hits so hard after exploring Belurat and seeing the city’s destruction, and pairing this dialogue with the scorpion stew description is even more tragic: “Traditional meal of the hornsent. Once made with love by a certain elderly woman for the family table.”

• brOTP ОТР whatever this is

Hornsent and Tarnished. what if I could fix him

• nОТР

I don’t think about this at all

• random headcanon

the marks on his face are burn scars from the fires… I think he had hair but it mostly burned off. maybe I’ll draw what I think his face looked like without the limitations of the npc character model sometime

• unpopular opinion

I don’t think he was a greater potentate! I think it’s strongly implied that he lived in Belurat before the crusade, not Bonny Village. I think he sought out the potentates’ caterpillar mask because it’s used to enhance focus and banish feelings of doubt in one’s purpose, which makes perfect sense for his revenge quest

• song i associate with them

once again please leave any suggestions in the replies/tags!!

• favorite picture of them

not to boost my own content but this was hysterical

[rarepairdumpster]

Baron Toy AU

Pairing: Viktor/Silco (Arcane) Rating: M C/W: Canonverse, Power Play, Exhibition, Rough Sex, Putting Viktor in pretty things forever

Viktor wearing THIS and sitting in Silco's lap during meetings with chembarons

And people write Viktor off because he looks so innocent and pretty, but he's probably the most cunning person in the room, next to Silco

Silco's strong hands sliding over the soft ruffles, not quite threatening, but close to

He wants to rip it off of Viktor but he also remembers how much it cost

All while playing with Silco's hair 

And Silco's hand is just idly caressing his thigh, like he's not even really paying attention to him

Finn asks if he's Free Use, but Silco tuts and says, "I might share wealth and power with those here, but I don't share toys."

If he's honest with himself, Viktor finds it hot when Silco calls him a toy and slides a squeezing hand to his crotch because Viktor knows no one else will ever get to touch him. Just Silco. Confident, dominant, sexy Silco

Silco can feel his heat and wetness through the ruffles of his panties/shorts and Silco hums in appreciation as he tilts his face to look at Viktor.

Smirks as he says, "You like that, don't you, boy? Being my toy."

And then Silco gives another massaging squeeze. Just because he can

And goes right back to the meeting agenda

Viktor squirms a little but settles back in, maybe straddling Silco's thigh a little more than before. He's still draped around Silco's neck and shoulders, scanning the table with a practiced lazy gaze.

When the meeting is drawing to a close, Viktor gets back at Silco with the hot slide of his tongue over the pulsing beat of his artery, before beginning to to nibble at him.

But oops he bites a little too hard and makes Silco grunt and close his eye, hands clamping around Viktor's hip and thigh

Silco bending Viktor over the chembaron table once everyone else is gone though hot fucking damn

One hand in Viktor's hair, forcing his face down on the  table. The other yanking Viktor's panties down to his thighs

Silco slowly pulling out the plug he had placed in Viktor before the meeting, enjoying how Viktor moans at the friction, then whines once it's gone.

Viktor curses when scarred and callused fingers rub at the muscles still gaping, still  begging to be filled.

Moments later, Silco is sliding his cock deep, breath hitching just a little.

Silco is not gentle when he fucks him. Its harsh. Punishing.

But Viktor doesn't want gentle. He wants Silco to fuck him like the toy that he is.

The edge of the table bites into his thighs with every thrust from Silco and Viktor can't help but hope there will be bruises there later

Viktor's hands grab the sides of the table, attempting to find purchase, nails clawing at the underside.

Leaving evidence that Viktor was here

He can tell Silco is close when he pulls Viktor against him, biting at Viktor's shoulders.

One of Silco's hands wraps around Viktor's throat, squeezing a little tightly under Viktor's pearl collar.

Silco cums first. Shudders against him. Muffles his low grunt of pleasure into Viktor's shoulder

Viktor cums when Silco slides the plug back in, making sure not to lose a drop.

Silco pulls out a handkerchief and cleans Viktor's softening cock. Viktor moans at the friction while Silco pulls his ruffled panties back up.

Silco rubs the narrow hips he must surely have bruised then. Kisses the bite marks he'd bestowed on flushed shoulders. Murmurs that Viktor is the most stunning creature he's ever met.

Viktor melts into the coat Silco wraps around him just before his legs are thankfully pulled out from under him and he's held close to Silco's chest. 

Silco carries him out to the car and keeps Viktor in his lap the whole ride home, petting his hair and kissing his temple.

Calls him my darling and my pet in a way that Viktor can't help but react to

Viktor bites his lip, not just at the soft words, but at Silco lightly circling the flare of his plug, pushing lightly whenever there's a bump in the road.

Silco smiles, knowing and smug.

Arch + Woods

[fanaticsnail]

I'm on a side blog, can't be horny on main, so I'm anon. Anyway I just reread your kissing booth series & I just adore your story with Heat. Heat is so adorable. He makes me think of that post about hyping up a lame bf (I don't think he's lame though) but like imagine telling all your friends about your new man & you're just like "guys here he is, the gods most specialest boy" & it's just Heat standing in the doorway looking like a somber Muppet. I love him. And I love your writing.

The way I immediately needed this in a fic, but I also wanted it super, super fluffy and kissy.

They'll Love You

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,400+

Synopsis: Heat is nervous about meeting your friends and fearing their judgement in your choice of lover. You reassure him they'll love you as much as you do.

Themes: Heat x gn!reader, established relationship, kissing, waking up together, meeting your friends, fluff, cuddles, drinking.

Notes: Images sourced from stock photos, Suicide Squad and Mad Max.

Tag list: @gingernut1314 @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @indydonuts @feral-artistry @sordidmusings @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @i-am-vita

As the cold of the morning pressed into your face, the warmth from the body lying behind you caressed your skin with the familiar intimacy you’ve come to expect from your lover. He nuzzled into your neck, pressing a soft kiss to your skin and humming against you. 

“Morning,” you lazily rolled your head back to brush against his. He chuckled into your neck before pressing his lips in a sweet kiss on the apple of your cheek. 

“G’Morning,” he uttered in return, gently tugging you to move onto your back and gaze deeply into your eyes. Reaching his hand down, he brushed a few stray hairs from your face as you rolled beneath him. His eyes held nothing but love and adoration in his grey orbs as he looked down at you. The expression on his face was so soft, you felt like he was in his own world while he studied your face. 

“What’s the matter, Heat?” you ask him, reaching to the side of his face and gently toying with one of his lengthy, pastel-blue locks, “You look so far away. Where have you gone, hm?” He chuckles down at you, his scarred lips curling up into a soft smile. 

“You just look so gorgeous like this, is all,” he whispers down at you, “You always look the best in the mornings, and I never want to let you out of this damn bed.” You giggle up at him in response, caressing his cheek and bringing him down to claim his lips over yours. 

You mouth at him, rolling his scarred flesh between your lips as he joins in the slow and deliberate movements. Unhurried, relaxed and passionate are the lips that meet yours, the texture of his Glasgow smile feeling tingly against your skin. Heat’s kisses are always warm and inviting as he balances out passion and neediness for slow and sultry romance. 

Humming into his lips, he draws his hands down to your hips and slowly massages your flesh beneath his palms. He moans as you slowly caress his thigh with your calf, smiling against your lips as he deepens the embrace. 

Finally pulling apart from his kiss, you dart your eyes between his as you look for a deeper reason for his passion this particular morning. His gray orbs hold a nervousness behind his loving gaze. Smiling with a soft sigh, you shake your head at him in a gentle scolding.

“You want to cancel the brunch, don’t you?” you hum up at him, his shock prompting his eyes to widen and lips to part, “Is that why you’re being sweet?” A small gasped laugh fled from his lips as he softly nodded in confirmation. 

“Oh, honey,” you coo up at him, tucking one of his locks behind his ear, “They’re going to love you, don’t worry.” He rolls his eyes at you and nuzzles his forehead into your neck, pressing a sweet kiss to your clavicle. You sigh as he massages your waist, his tongue darting out and swirling your pulse beneath his lips. 

“H-Heat, stop it,” you giggle at him, prompting him to smile against your skin and continue playfully biting and sucking on your skin. You softly keen out a small mewl, which prompts him to continue his possessive ministrations. Bruising your skin lightly with his kisses, you gather his hair at the nape of his neck. He hums against you, sending shockwaves of vibrations against your flesh as he presses more feverish kisses against you.

“Heat, we’ve gotta get up,” you whine at him, his lips getting warmer the longer he presses his kiss against you. The trail of warm fire ignites a passion in the pit of your stomach the longer he presses kisses into your skin. 

“Mmhm,” he hums, lips parting and heating your pulse with his molten lips. You arch your back up to him as he pins your hips against the mattress with his broad hands. You tap his back to playfully scold him, prompting him to chuckle against your skin and halt his soft attack on your skin. He rounded his eyes and made himself out to be more innocent and pure. 

“You really don’t want to meet them, do you?” you pout at him, looking at his sullen expression and nudging his nose with your own. 

“They’ll think I’m a wet noodle, I’m sure,” he huffs, his scarred lips pouting down at you and pressing a chaste kiss on the top of your nose, “Some mongrel pup you took out of the rain, all soaking wet and shivering from the cold.” You laugh at him and tap his bicep while scooching out from beneath him. 

“And look at you,” he crawls over to the edge of the bed, leaning on his elbows and resting on his stomach, “Perfection incarnate.” You giggle and shake your head at him while gathering your chosen clothes for the day. 

“I promise,” you gaze at him over your shoulder and bat your eyelashes at him, “The moment you meet them, you’ll have all these worries and doubts cast aside.” He sighs, rolling onto his back and rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. His hair rolls off the mattress and hangs over the side like waterfalls dropping from a picturesque clifface, prompting you to halt your dressing and stoop down to his height. 

“Even if they don’t love you,” you press your lips to his forehead and give him a soft kiss, “Rest assured in the knowledge that I do. Completely.” As you made to pull away, he hooked his arm over your neck and drew your lips to his. Angling his chin to the side, his lips and tongue hungrily consumed the squeak you made at the initial contact.

Releasing your neck, he gazed his sunken eyes into your own and searched for the lie lingering beneath the surface. Only pure honesty and love were found in your half-lidded eyes as you gazed longingly down at him. 

“Fine,” he groaned with a click of his tongue and a roll of his eyes, “Only because I love you.” You hum in glee down at his pouting lips and press yours against him one last time. 

“I knew you’d see it my way,” you chirp happily down at him. Gathering the remainder of your clothes, you place them over your body under the watchful eyes of your lover taking in your every move and motion with awe. 

At the brunch, Heat had never felt more out of place amongst your friends gathered. While none of them paid him any hostility or mind, he couldn’t help but feel like an outsider looking in on the conversations spreading like wildfire between you all. Conversations he felt so out of depth with at the rapid topic changes, soft giggles, and hands swapping empty glasses for full ones of bubbly wines and fizzed juices. 

Looking across the table, he made contact with another partner who seemed equally out of depths as he was. The partner mouthed at him: “First time?” with an arched brow, to which Heat gave a tight-lipped nod in response. Raising their beverage, they gave a soft cheers with their glass to which Heat reciprocated. Both draining the contents dry in sync, they both laughed softly together as they signaled for another. 

Gazing at him out of the corner of your eye and noticing he began to relax into the space, you place your hand gently on his thigh that he immediately covered with his own. Raising your hand up to his lips, he pressed a kiss to your knuckles while gazing longingly at you. You turned to face him, tilting your head to the side and offering him a coy smile. 

“Oh, I love you,” you whisper to him, prompting him to mirror your smile with a smirk of his own. 

“I know,” he uttered softly, pressing another kiss to your palm and leaning in closer to you, “Which is why you’re going to come for drinks tomorrow to meet my crew.” You smile and press your hand to his cheek, drawing him closer to you and claiming his lips in a soft kiss. He hummed against your lips, pulling away to gaze deeply into your eyes. 

“Are you sure?” you widen your eyes and gaze up at him with a rounded innocence in your expression. He hummed at you, nodding softly and pressing his forehead against your own.

“Absolutely,” Heat tucked a stray hair behind your ear and leaned into the soft embrace you were sharing together, “They’ll love you.” 

[spinjitsuburst]

I just saw that art u rbed to here from ur main and like while its an amazing peice of art its in own right MY EYES ZOOMED ONTO ONE ARMED LLOYD im so curious where that hc comes from if u wanna ramble abt scar and injury hcs id love to hear genuinelylike. I love scar hcs yeah

I'M SO SORRY THIS ASK TOOK SO LONG BUT OH MY GOD I LOVE TALKING ABOUT DESIGN AND SCAR HEADCANONS SO LIKE GHDFSGHKJFDG

generally i draw the ninja in a pretty vague "around or after crystalized but before DR" timeline so that's what i'm operating under with these headcanons

also i didn't draw zane here cuz android bodies confuse me and i also got. lazy hgkfdsghkjf but i'll do his someday

lloyd's 20~ and the other ninja are mid 20s~

FIRST UP MY FAVS

starting with lloyd i give him a dragon tail and oni horns, as well as pointed ears. he's got a semi-grunge/goth style so i usually draw him with piercings and stuff. he lost his arm during the events of hunted to me but i dont really have a set event in mind for it. his back was SUPER damaged during the sons of garmadon fight and sometimes has to wear a back brace, and his ankle flares up from time to time

jay kept a lot of his scars hidden for a while because they came from skybound (some of his worst injuries lingered from the timeline). not sure whether he's come clean to the ninja yet or not. the marks on his wrist and ankle are from vengestone cuffs on the ship (blame hat because they gave jay vengestone cuffs in bbnb and it broke my brain so my jay has them now). the wound on his side is from skybound as well. ironically his face scar is NOT from skybound, but he was blind in that eye after skybound and hid it from the team. the current scar is from a fight where an enemy sliced a knife up the side of his face, and his lightning reacted badly and struck him while also striking the enemy. he almost died it was NOT a fun day for anybody. also he's a trans man so top scars!!

nya's scars are fun, she obviously has the tiger widow venom scar from skybound (kai finds out about that one after it gets infected cuz she wasn't taking proper care of it after the timeline reset, and he was NOT happy about it) but she also has lichtenberg scars on her hand from a time jay was holding it and accidentally shocked her badly with his powers. he starts wearing gloves after this incident. she also, of course, still has the markings from her time merged with the sea. they glow blue when she uses her powers, and her eyes are more glowy now as well (she kinda looks like a cryptid)

kai's deceptively scrawny. he has basic muscles but he's super skinny, so a lot of people think he isn't as strong as the rest of the ninja. however he's CRAZY strong and has a solid core. He also has a bunch of scars all over his hands from his time as a blacksmith. They're mostly little burns and nicks, but there's one that stretches across his hand from when he accidentally grabbed a hot blade. he also has a lot of body hair

cole is chubby but INSANELY strong, even without super strength. he has a bunch of scars, especially on his arms, from being tanky and blocking blows with his body. most of his scars are ninja related, but he does have one on his leg from a dance accident. nothing major, but the scar stuck around. he also has his ghost scar that goes over his eye somewhat, causing his pupil to be an unnatural green

also a height chart for comparison! one day i'll do zane too but i got lazy. hard to figure out scars for a nindroid, but i imagine that under his plating, the side of his face will ALWAYS have glowing gold scars from the overlord, no matter how many times he makes a new body or tries to fix them

[centipede-gutzz]

♾️ SATORU GOJO PLATONIC HEADCANONS

A/N: need to be friends with someone like gojo in my life. apologies if i wrote him wrong in any way, he has so many layers so i did my best to give him justice.

WARNINGS: canon character death (geto), l-bombs (in a platonic way), not really a warning but satosugu is also mentioned a few times

TYPE: headcanons, gn reader, platonic, fluff/angst

It's a hot day, and Nanami wants nothing but a cold drink.

Haibara asked to get something for him as well, so he HAS to be here anyway (dismissing the small smile he gave him as he walked off to the vending machine).

He steps in front of the machine, scanning his options between the canned liquid goods. Choosing a refreshing water to combat his thirst and training fatigue, he reaches in his pocket for the money. Instead of money, his hand grabs a piece of paper.

Nanami makes a noise of confusion as he takes out the paper from his pocket, staring at the scribbled letters that read "To: Nanami <3" on the front. He unfolds it, thinking it must be something that he forgot to throw out.

He's met with a rather...crude drawing and a tiny "penis" hastily scribbled beneath it, clearly explaining what the hell was on the paper. Before he could even process what he was looking at, he hears giggling from down the hall. You and Gojo are peeking from the corner, watching everything unfold.

Both of you run away cackling as Nanami crumbles up the paper and tosses it into the trash, an angry scowl plastered on his face as he chases you both out of the building.

The drinks are completely forgotten that day.

☆- god you both are big fucking goofballs together. matching energy constantly and it makes everyone else miserable when they become targets of you and gojo's mishaps and chaos.

☆- at first, you guys were at odds with each other. gojo and geto were at the same state but you as well ? damn none of these first years are getting along with each other (besides shoko, she's the only one you tolerated at the time).

☆- once the tension ended between both pairs, you and gojo started hanging out more often.

☆- he has another person who he can latch onto and bother without much trouble and you have someone who can tolerate your silliness. it's a win-win.

☆- gojo won't say anything about it too often, but he really appreciates you being his friend because you enjoy him as a person and not for his immense strength. the most you'll do is compliment his powers and just move on casually like it's nothing new. it definitely means a lot more to him that he lets on.

☆- if you ever buy him souvenirs from missions, he will absolutely INSIST that he get something for you as well (possibly something more expensive too).

☆- as soon as gojo comes back from missions with geto, he's almost immediately by your side to tell you everything that happened.

☆- poor nanami is often the target for you two. you're the one who would apologize afterwards while gojo is not as sorry.

☆- after the events with toji, you were really worried about him. seeing him bloodied and scarred was not the sight you would usually see from your friend.

☆- he only went over the details once and never again, clearly not wanting to reimagine what he and geto had to experience. you give him a comfort hug and say that you'll be there to talk if either of them want to.

☆- the hangouts became less and less frequent for the two of you and everyone else due to gojo's growth as a sorcerer and busy schedule. as soon as he thinks he has time for a break, he has to leave for a mission.

☆- you always say that you don't mind, but he never stops apologizing.

☆- you never expected the news of what geto has done. shoko filled in the rest after her encounter with him, leaving you in shock and disarray of what happened.

☆- it wasn't a secret how close he and gojo were, even more than you two ever were. you didn't know whether it was something you should talk to him about or give him some space.

☆- you ended up letting him process everything first, sitting next to him in silence for some company.

☆- he confesses about his feelings for geto to you one day. you would've poked fun at him and said how obvious it was, but you keep quiet. you only listen to whatever he vents out.

☆- even after gojo starts acting like his normal self once more, you're never able to shake off your worry for him.

☆- he tells you about megumi and you feel REALLY bad for the kid and how he was going to end up. either sold off to the zenin clan or constantly being worked to death and losing comrades in a world that he may never escape from.

☆- never has the thought of you becoming a teen parent ever crossed your mind, but here you are. megumi and tsumiki mean the world to both of you and you constantly like to dote on them. tsumiki is open with her appreciation, yet megumi is still quiet (he expresses it in his own way and is more nicer to you than gojo).

☆- it's definitely a way to help keep your minds off of everything, you think to yourself as you help gojo raise the two siblings.

☆- no matter how many years pass, you know that gojo is still thinking about everything. the constant smiles and laughter you both continue to share is still genuine, but the pain is haunting him.

☆- it takes you a bit to get used to gojo's bandages once he switches out the glasses. his youth is gone and has been for a while, forcefully taken away from him.

☆- if gojo ever happened to visit geto in secret, whether it be an accident or a way to chase after those fleeting moments they couldn't catch back then, you keep quiet about it. it's probably not the healthiest thing for gojo but god, with how much he's been pushed and how his growth has doubled, you can't help but think that maybe it's what he needs right now.

☆- both of you were quick to defend yuta once he came into the picture. you felt bad for the kid, and for gojo with how hard he's been trying to save yuta's youth from being ruined like his was.

☆- it's not uncommon for you to see gojo in action, but you can't help feeling proud and watching him in awe as he fought the battles in the night parade of a hundred demons. you were dealing with your own opponents, occasionally glancing at gojo to keep an eye on him and his wellbeing. you knew he would be fine on his own, but you were ready to assist him the moment it seemed necessary.

☆- you were there for him again after geto's death. he comes back to you with an empty look in those blue eyes of his. you don't bother asking if he needed help to retrieve his body, knowing what gojo's choice was.

☆- for the first time in a while, he gives you a tight hug and cries. it's rare for you to see him like this, but it hurts to see him like this everytime. you can only whisper words of comfort and pet his hair as he sobs into your shoulder, clearly struck with grief over the loss of his one and only.

☆- those moments were kept between the both of you. he knew it was ok for him to express those emotions, yet he can't help but recoil everytime he looks back at those moments of how weak he felt. you assure him that it's natural to feel that way.

☆- gojo really appreciates you as a friend, and constantly reminds you after everything. you were always there for him, and he was always there for you. it still hurts knowing what gojo and the others had to endure after all these years.

☆- the two of you continue to stick next to each other, swearing to protect and teach the youth of the future generation of jujutsu sorcerers. there are constant jokes between each other of killing the executives (neither of you are entirely joking).

☆- you promise that you'll be there to support him, and gojo promises the same thing with a wide grin on his face. he gives you a harsh slap on the back and quickly scitters away from your payback.

☆- both of you are equally intolerable, jokes and pranks from the old days still prevalent even now.

☆- "i love you," he says one day while you two were watching over his newest student. yuji is sleeping on the couch, cursed corpse in hand as a movie plays in the background. you immediately smile to yourself and give an airy laugh, reaching up to ruffle his hair. it's nothing new, you both constantly express your friendly affections towards each other. yet you can't help but have a stupid grin on your face everytime.

☆- "love ya too, you loser," you respond. gojo smiles and rests his arm on your head with a dreamy sigh. you immediately regret your response as you poke him in the sides, his laughter ringing out into the room.

[hereforreadandwrite]

Chapter Seven

Masterlist

"I hope Freya is okay," Atreus said as he crossed the jungle of Vanaheim.

"She can care for herself," Kratos replied.

"We're still checking on her, though?"

"Her brother's forces are outnumbered. And there is much I owe her."

It is true that Freyr's gang was outnumbered. If Odin decided to send his troops, they would not be able to face it.

Freyr.

It is true that he can be unbearable and annoying at times, but he had always had a good heart. This idiot of a God who smoked strange herbs. You were brought out of your thoughts by noticing that the camp was empty. There was no one. You approached the fire, noticing that a pot was still on the fire and that the bowls filled with food had been left, barely started. They had left in a hurry. This was not normal. Kratos and Atreus also approached the campfire. They were just as puzzled as you were. A crack was heard, making you draw your weapons. You were back to back, carefully observing the surroundings, looking for the person or thing that was watching. Suddenly, the flames grew larger, forcing you all to step back. The flames and smoke dissipated, revealing a Vanir Archer that you knew all too well.

"(Y/N), Kratos, Atreus. A welcome reunion," the archer said, smiling at the trio and putting away his arrow. "Unexpected, but welcome."

"What are you doing here?" you asked, lowering your sword.

"Do you know him?" Atreus asked, puzzled.

"Yes. He's a friend, we're safe," you replied, looking at the archer. "You seem fine."

"You too. How long has it been? A hundred winters, my Lady?"

"Can't be… Is that who I think?" Mimir said as Kratos unhooked him from his belt so he could see the archer. "You shifty bastard! It's almost good to see you again. And for once in the shape of a man… or nearly."

"So that's how they got your head out of your ass," the archer commented, losing his friendly smile. "Maybe now you'll stop being such a half-blind, piss-drunk, oversexed liar. He was more of a pig than I ever was. Even if he calmed down a bit when lady (Y/N) came into his life."

"I do know you," Kratos said, giving the archer a stern look as he circled the campfire.

"Do you not recognize your handiwork?" he asked, revealing a scar on his side.

Realization struck Atreus as he saw the scar. That archer was none other than Hildisvíni. The boy turned to his father, asking him if he remembered the first time they had met Freya in the woods of Midgard, that man was none other than the boar they had hunted. Atreus' joy disappeared as he thought back to the moment he had shot an arrow at him. He looked at Hildisvíni, apologizing for that time. Hildisvíni contained himself from smiling at that.

"Freya's boar," Kratos commented, remaining on guard.

"Her Advisor and friend," Hildisvíni said, taking a step towards Kratos who took a defensive stance. "Counselor to the Vanir. And yes, while exiled at Midgard, was trapped in my boar form."

"No wonder you got hit by an arrow," you commented, chuckling and approaching Hildisvíni. "And only one."

"Haha. It's true that I had to run away from several," he replied, laughing a little before looking at Atreus. "And you succeeded that time."

"At my command," Kratos replied.

"No. My Arrow. My mistake," Atreus replied.

"Forgotten," Hildisvíni reassured before heading towards the camp exit with the trio. "Vanaheim needs our help more than ever. Even Mimir's. Come."

"Where is Freya? She came here to help her brother," Kratos said perplexed by the absence of Freyr and his men.

"She leads the search party for Freyr and Byggir. They've been captured by the Einherja," Hildisvíni explained.

"How'd that happen?" Mimir asked surprised.

"An ambush. Their presence has intensified since you last visit. To make matters worse, the Celestial Wolves haven't seen in days or at least I assume. Not easy, tracking time woth no moon in the sky."

You felt your heart collapse and your stomach tighten upon hearing the news. The Wolves had stopped their endless races? The moon had disappeared? A blow from Odin, you were sure. How had he managed to steal the moon? You were taken out of your thoughts when Hildisvíni took another path, probably to go find Freya while the three of you took care of going to see Skoll and Hati.

The jungle of Vanaheim was invaded by creatures who tried to stop you, without success. Once arrived in Skoll and Hati's den, Kratos, Atreus, Mimir and you noticed that the two Wolves were sleeping, pressed against each other. You knelt down in front of them. Now that the moon was absent, they were no longer going to join the sky. There was only one thing left for you to do, put the moon back in its place, much to Mimir's dismay. Kratos indicated that the neighboring village housed a warrior camp. A real fortress to hide their loot. As you followed the father and son, you couldn't help but be worried. Your premonition was happening. The boy was talking about a fresco. So it was written? Did Tyr know this was going to happen? What was your role in all this? Did you even have a role in all this?

Tyr.

Why did he leave so many questions unanswered?

You pulled yourself together when you heard Einherjars. They were guarding the entrance to the village. You focused on the battle that followed. Killing the enemies with the help of Kratos and Atreus. Once you entered the abandoned village, all three were greeted by a female Einherjar who teleported further into the village, guiding you to the abandoned fortress. Surprisingly, there were no Einherjars, nor any other enemies. The box containing the moon was placed prominently in the middle of the ruined room. It was too prominent.

"This is DEFINITELY an ambush," Atreus commented.

"Yes," Kratos replied, drawing his axe.

"They're coming," you said, getting into position.

Several Einherjar appeared, determined to stop the trio from reaching the box. These were the strongest warriors Odin had sent. He was determined to keep the moon sealed. Why? To prevent Ragnarök? To stop Hati from devouring the moon? Why?

Your questions were abruptly interrupted by the feeling of an Einherjar grabbing you from behind, his hand clamped over your mouth. You struggled, trying to free yourself from the grip of the Einherjar who was trying to forcefully pull you out of the fortress.

"Daughter!!" Mimir cried out as he saw you in a bad position.

Kratos quickly turned to you. He wasted no time. He summoned Draupnir, throwing it at the Einherjar man's head. He collapsed to the ground, dragging you down with him. Atreus rushed to your side, pushing the corpse before helping you sit up.

"Are you okay?" Atreus asked worriedly as you coughed.

"Yes…," you said between coughs, perplexed by what the enemy had just done. "I'm fine… I… I didn't expect this."

"What about me!" Mimir exclaimed in panic. "Are you sure you're okay? Nothing broken? Brother! Give him a healing stone!"

"I'm fine, Father," you said, standing up as Kratos unhooked your head from his belt so he could see you. "See? I'm fine. No need to panic."

"That bastard Einherjar tried to kidnap you. Of course I'm panicking!" Mimir exclaimed.

"Why did he do that?" Atreus asked in puzzlement.

"If one tried that, others will try to kidnap you too," Kratos said sternly, hooking Mimir back onto his belt. "Why? Do you know something we don't?"

"What would I know? I don't know any more than all of you. But… if Odin got wind that I came out of hiding…"

"Shit!" Mimir exclaimed. "That old fogey. He can't leave you alone. Forgive me, (Y/N)… it's my fault. Uh… I completely failed in my role as a father and protector. I'm so sorry…"

"What's this story?" Kratos asked, looking at you sternly.

"It's… complicated… and besides, we don't have time to discuss this. The moon is our priority," you said, looking towards the box containing the moon.

"She's right," Atreus said. "We have to hurry."

"This story isn't over," Kratos said, looking at you sternly.

You nodded slightly before picking up your sword. That old fogey Odin. He was still as obsessed with you as ever. You couldn't remember a day when Odin hadn't sent his stupid ravens to spy on you or him, who was trying to coax you. You felt a shiver of disgust run through you and your stomach twist.

"Ready to put the moon back where it belongs?" Atreus asked, making you come out of your thoughts and heading towards the box. "Okay, yeah. That's a weird thing to say…"

You shook your head, patting your cheeks. You had to stay focused. You took a deep breath before following Kratos and Atreus to the box containing the moon. But, before either of you could retrieve the box, the Einherjar warrior appeared, grabbing the box before teleporting away. Atreus quickly started to pursue the warrior, forcing you and Kratos to do the same. But the three of you had run into a second ambush. You couldn't help but curse as you fought the Einherjars. Some of the warriors focused more on you. No matter how much magic and techniques you used, there were three of them against you. Atreus and Kratos came to your aid, helping you eliminate the last enemies.

"She's gona again! Hurry, we gotta get accross!" Atreus shouted as he saw the warrior flee.

The chase was long and exhausting. But in the end, after sending all the enemies back to Helheim or Valhalla, you finally managed to retrieve the box containing the moon.

"It's cold," Atreus said as he took the box. "Is this…? It's from Helheim. Heimdall must've Grabbed this while I freed Garm. I was there. But… I… I didn't know."

"Heimdall is deceitful, you couldn't have done anything if you had known about Odin's plans," you replied to Atreus.

"And now you fight to undo the damage. Your guilt is misplaced," Kratos reassured as he placed his hand on his son's shoulder.

"Yeah… no, you're right," the teenager replied.

"We can return to the den through here. They will pursue. You two, keep your guard up."

Now that the moon was in your hands, the three of you headed back to Sköll and Hati's den to give them the moon back. But despite this good news, you still had butterflies in your stomach. And Atreus, it wasn't any better.

"But what if, by doing all this… what is we're Walking straight into Ragnarök?" he asked nervously. "Isn't there any way to avoir fate? Your fate? What if we can't stop you from-"

"Would you turn upur back on the wolves? On this realm?" Kratos asked as he arrived at the wolves' den. "Remember our agreement."

You looked at the father and son perplexed. What were they talking about? Although, their motivation to avoid Ragnarök was none of your business. Even you didn't want Ragnarök to happen.

Sköll and Hati were still sleeping against each other. Atreus looked at you and Kratos before taking the box out of its pouch, placing it on the ground, in front of the Celestial wolves. He drew his knife, swallowing before taking a deep breath before sticking it in the box. The moment the box was broken, the wolves woke up. Hati growled and salivated as he saw the moon come out of the box. The moon rose into the air. The sky turned red, the surroundings darkened. The moon had placed itself in front of the Sun, forming an eclipse.

Like in your dream.

Like on the fresco that Atreus and Kratos had seen.

You saw Sköll and Hati approach the edge of the cliff, watching the eclipse carefully. Atreus unhooked his bow and took an arrow, aiming at the moon. The boy felt doubt invade him. He lowered his arrow, watching his father panic.

"If I do this…"

"Fate only binds you if you let it," Kratos said, placing his hand on Atreus' shoulder, trying to reassure him. "Do what is necessary. Not because is written."

Atreus took a deep breath, nodding slightly. He cocked his arrow again, aiming at the moon before firing his arrow. Seeing the arrow go, Sköll wasted no time in chasing the arrow, splitting the sky. The Sun began to flee from the wolf, giving way to night. You placed your hand on the teenager's shoulder.

"Good choice, little boy," you said, patting his shoulder.

Atreus gave you a weak smile. Hati walked past the group, returning to his den for bed. Not without leaving a gift, as a thank you.

"Well… hell of a gift," you commented, observing the object Kratos picked up.

"Do you know what this is for?" Kratos asked, looking at you.

"Oh. That. It just helps you control the day," you replied, shrugging. "If you use it, you can ask Hati to chase the moon or Sköll to chase the Sun."

"Say it more casually, daughter," Mimir said with a sigh. "Well, now that we've put the moon back in its place, how about we go back to Hildisvíni?"

"Good idea," you said as you stretched before setting off towards Freyr's camp with the father and son. "Freyr still needs to be saved."

"Let's not hang around," Kratos said as he took the lead of the group.

The group made it back to Freyr's camp without too much difficulty. Once back at the camp, the three of you were greeted by Freya and Hildisvíni. The Vanir Goddess was relieved to see you again and in one piece.

"Kratos, Atreus, (Y/N). That eclipse was your doing, I take it?" she asked as she approached Kratos, holding out her hand, which the Spartan shook. "Thank you for coming. Byggir used the diversion to escape."

"What about your brother?" Atreus asked.

"We know where they're holding him now. Beyla's already prepped the explosives. If you're with me, we can leave as soon as you're ready. (Y/N), are you coming with me?" Freya asked as she looked you over.

"Yes," you said, nodding slightly.

"Daughter. I… I don't think that's a good idea," Mimir said. "Don't forget that the Einherjar are after you."

"What happened?" Freya asked as she looked you over puzzled.

"Some Einherjar tried to kidnap her," Kratos said.

"What?!" Freya exclaimed in surprise before quickly approaching you to examine you. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes," you said, removing Freya's hands from your shoulders. "Nothing more than scratches from the fights."

"It would be best if you stayed at camp, Lady (Y/N)," Hildisvíni said as she approached. "If the other Einherjar try to kidnap you in the middle of a battle, we won't be coming to help you."

"So what? I should stay away?" you asked annoyed.

"No," Freya said as she placed her hand on your shoulder. "You're going back to Sindri's house. We trust you and we know you can defend yourself, but… we can't risk you getting kidnapped while we're helping Freyr. If anything happens to you and you're taken by force to Asgard…"

You sighed, frustrated, nodding slightly. Freya sighed, taking your hands in hers, telling you that you had already helped a lot by retrieving the moon with Kratos and Atreus and that she was very grateful to you, but she didn't want to risk your safety. You nodded slightly before leaving the group to head towards the door leading to Yggdrasil. You went through the door, arriving in front of Sindri's house. You went to lie down on the bench, putting your arm over your eyes.

The moon that was stolen.

The eclipse that took place.

Your premonitory dream that happened.

The Einherjars who are determined to kidnap you.

This was all really strange.

What could Odin have in mind?

Why did he want to retrieve a strange mask?

Did he want Ragnarök to happen?

You lay on your side, your gaze lost in space. Now that your premonitory dream had taken place, what was going to happen? It seemed that Ragnarök was coming soon. Was it inevitable? What was your role in all this? Should you participate in Ragnarök? Should you stay behind? If your Tyr was still the same, what would he have told you? What would he have advised you to do? You sat down, staring at the ground. You were lost. Tyr was no longer the Tyr you had known. The boy had set off the most disastrous events, even though he seemed to realize that he had done things he shouldn't have done and was trying to make up for it by fixing his mistakes.

"Is everything okay, (Y/N)? Where are Kratos and the others?"

You looked towards the man you were thinking of: Tyr. Your husband looked at you worriedly as he sat down next to you. You straightened up, sitting down as well.

"They're busy saving Freyr. He and a Light Elf were kidnapped by Einherjars," you explained, crossing your legs in a lotus position. "Freya told me to come back here. The… the Einherjars… tried to kidnap me."

"What?! On Odin's orders?" Tyr exclaimed surprised.

"It's quite possible," you said with a sigh. "I helped Kratos and the little boy put the moon back in the sky, Sköll and Hati have resumed their hunt."

"That's… good news," Tyr said.

"You don't seem very convinced," you said, looking at him out of the corner of your eye.

"No! No, it's a good thing the Celestial Wolves have resumed their hunt. But… if Odin is trying to bring you back to Asgard… that's not good."

"Hmm. That old fogey has always been like that… When he's obsessed with something, he has to have it at all costs," you said, rubbing your hands together, looking at Tyr out of the corner of your eye. "But… you seem to know a lot about this mask he's looking for. How come?"

"Some Giants who saw it in their visions told me about it. And Odin was already obsessed with this mask for a long time," Tyr explained. "As I said, he imprisoned and tortured me for this mask."

"So why did you never tell me about this mask?"

"(Y/N)… I know Odin's obsession with you and this mask. I only wanted to protect you. To preserve you from Odin's perversion towards you. He took your wings, he deprived you of me, of your parents, of the Valkyries. Do you really blame me for wanting to protect you?"

"I blame you for not wanting to fight anymore," you said, looking at him sternly. "You just hide in your closet like a scared child. You don't fight for what you believe in anymore. I know I feel unfair. You've just been freed and you're being asked to take part in a war, but… We need you. Everyone needs you. I need you. I need the man I respect and love to come back and lead us like he always did. I need that man. That God of War who fights for what's right. I never asked you to fight for me. Fight for all these people who believe in you."

"You… believe in me? Even though I was such a coward?"

You sighed, getting up from the bench, moving a little away from him.

"I… I don't know if I can believe in you. I… I need proof of your good faith," you said before turning to him. "You can't hide in a closet anymore and hope that others will take care of the problems without you having to act. We need you, the God of War of his Nine Realms."

Tyr nodded slightly, getting up from the bench to approach you. You felt your stomach twist when he placed his hand on your cheek, his thumb caressing your cheekbone.

That unpleasant feeling again.

You swallowed hard, getting ready to speak when the door to Yggdrasil opened to reveal Freya helping a struggling Freyr walk. Seeing them, you quickly moved away from Tyr to help Freya carry her brother inside the house.

"Little Valkyrie," Freyr greeted, a smile on his lips despite the pain that was pulling at him. "I'm glad to see you again."

"Glad to see you're still alive," you said, laughing slightly. "Where are Kratos and Atreus?"

"They won't be long. They're safe," Freya said, setting Freyr down on the chair. "(Y/N), can you heal him while I prepare some herbs?"

"Okay."

Freya thanked you, going to the room containing the herbs. You tended to Freyr, lifting his top to see his injuries. Luckily, he wasn't seriously injured. You used the techniques Eir had taught you. Freyr grumbled a little, but he didn't have time to say anything before you gave him a stern look that silenced him.

"You're very lucky," you said as you put his top back on properly. "Just a cracked rib. You have a chance that a dead man would love to have."

"I've always been lucky, little Valkyrie," he said with a chuckle before holding his sore side.

"A chance that's a poise," you said as Freya came to sit next to her brother, giving him a glass filled with water mixed with several kinds of herbs.

"Here Freyr. Drink and let the herbs work."

Freyr took the glass, drinking the contents. You sighed as Freyr began to ramble and tell you how much he missed you and Freya. That the last time he saw you, you were just a little girl he carried on his shoulders to tour Vanaheim. Especially the time he took you with him, without telling your parents and the Valkyries, to take you to Alfheim to introduce you to the Elves and show you around the Kingdom. You couldn't help but smile slightly when he reminded you of this memory.

When you were six, Freyr had decided, without consulting Sigrun and Mimir, to take you with him to go to Alfheim. He had introduced you to the Dark Elves and the Light Elves. He had shown you the sanctuary and the famous light of Alfheim. That day had been one of the most fun of your life, even if you hadn't understood before why your parents had been so upset when you had returned to Asgard with a Freyr all happy to have been the nicest uncle in the Nine Realms for taking you to see Alfheim. It was that time that you had met the Dark Elf Beyla and the Light Elf Byggvir.

"Is Byggvir okay?" you asked looking towards Freya.

"Yes, he wasn't hurt and he found Beyla."

"I'm happy for them. At least Beyla found her husband…"

Freya put her hand on your shoulder, glancing at Tyr who went back into his closet.

"You still don't trust him?" Freya asked quietly.

"He… he really makes me uncomfortable," you said quietly. "My gut tells me to stay away from him."

"Did he try anything?"

"Once… but he saw that I didn't like it and he stopped. That Tyr… he's not my Tyr… I… I don't know what Odin did to him to break him, but… there's something wrong. Everything I tell him, I feel like it doesn't affect him. That man… he's not my husband."

"Husband?!" Freyr exclaimed loudly, looking at you as if a second head had just grown on your shoulder. "You… You're married?!"

"Yes."

"Who?! When?!"

"Hmm… Tyr is… Tyr is my husband, Freyr. We've been married for a long time," you answered uncomfortably.

"Tyr?!" Freyr exclaimed in surprise. "Ooooh by the Norns…"

"Try to rest, Yngvi. Let the herbs work," Freya said, placing her hand on her brother's shoulder.

"Oh, they work. Oh they, they work very well. 'Cause you make things better."

As Freyr rambled on about the herbs, Kratos and Atreus entered the house. Without a word, the Spartan walked over to the table, setting Mimir down on it before setting down the Gjallarhorn. You approached the table, looking at the object with a stern look. If Kratos was in possession of this object, it only meant one thing.

Heimdall was dead.

And now that they had the Gjallarhorn in their possession, Odin was at a severe disadvantage. Asgard would no longer be able to rally the Aesir for Ragnarök.

"You really did it," you said, looking at Kratos.

"How in all the Nine Realms did you manage to kill Heimdall?" Freyr asked, a small smile on his face as he leaned on the table and glared at the Greek God of War.

"I knew ou spear would do the trick," Brok exclaimed loudly. "Well happy Ragnarök, everybody! Let's drink!"

"Is it true? Heimdall's dead? I can't Believe it," Tyr said bitterly as he walked over to the fireplace, a dark look on his face. "There's no stopping it now. Odin swore peace only so long as you spilled no more Aesir Blood."

"I refused that deal," Kratos replied.

“Yet he honored it. But now…”

“But what?” Freya asked, looking at Tyr irritated. "You and I know better than anyone that Odin's promises never last. We have the advantage now. It's time to bring him down."

"No," Kratos said firmly, attracting the attention of Freya who looked at him surprised.

“None of you understand what's coming,” Tyr said. "Odin's vengeance will be his only concern."

"Not his only concern," Atreus said, drawing everyone's attention to himself. "The Mask. Whatever knowledge it unlocks that's what Odin wants more than anything. If I go to Asgard, I can use-"

“Go back?” Kratos said sternly, turning to his son. “Go back?”

"Look… If I can finish what I started there, awaken the Mask, get answers… maybe that's our way outta this. But I've gotta go soon, before they figure out what's happened."

"Atreus… you are home," Kratos said as he approached his son. "Don't ask me to put you at risk again."

"He's at risk where he stant, Kratos," Tyr said. "We all are."

"Aything we do, r don' d, is Dangerous right now," Atreus said as he followed his father who had gone to the fireplace. "But Odin needs me. He trusts me. I'll be safe there."

Kratos, like almost everyone else in the house, wasn't really convinced. Even you weren't convinced. All of this left a bitter taste in your mouth. Atreus turned to Mimir, asking him if from a "strategic point of view" he was wrong. The head sighed, admitting that it didn't like it too much, but that it was the best thing to do. Dividing Odin's attention would buy time. Tyr continued, saying that they would also have eyes in the enemy's holy sanctuary.

"He's still a child," you thought, tapping your finger on the table. "But… if there is truly a source of infinite knowledge… Odin can't have this."

"And once Odin has what he needs form you-," Mimir said before being interrupted by Atreus.

"Then I lose my leverage. I get it. I'll be smart," he said before turning to his father. "Father. I can do this."

Kratos sighed, turning to Atreus. The God of War placed his hand on his son's shoulder, telling him not to forget their promise. Atreus smiled, placing his hand on his father's forearm, nodding slightly, telling him the same thing. After that, Atreus walked away, heading towards the door to leave Sindri's home.

You sighed, grabbing the tankard from Freyr's hand to drink its contents in one gulp. All this was giving you a headache. Sending a kid to Asgard, to Odin no less. All this was beyond you. Was it really the only solution? But if it would end Odin's reign. You sighed, running your hands over your face when you saw Tyr discreetly return to his closet. As always, since his release, he was going to lock himself in that damn closet. You sighed, placing the glass on the table before going to your makeshift room. You settled down on this uncomfortable bed, leaning your back against the wall.

Gods, you had had enough of this situation.

You just wanted to go back to isolate yourself in your house and sleep in your bed. You wanted to take a bath and relax. You were brought back to earth by Freya. The Goddess had just entered the room, closing the door behind her before coming to sit next to you. Neither of you spoke. A rather awkward silence. You looked towards the window, observing the strange mushrooms that were wandering on the branches of Yggdrasil.

"How are you feeling?" Freya asked, finally breaking the silence.

You remained silent, not knowing how to answer this question.

How were you?

It had been a long time since anyone had asked this question.

"I don't know, Vanadís…"

"I know what you feel. Even if… you feel like you're alone in the world. That no one can understand your pain. Believe me, most of the people here can understand you. I understand you," he said looking at you, taking your hands in his. "(Y/N). You're not alone anymore. We're here for you. But I just want to know one thing, when did you and Tyr get married?"

You sighed as you looked at Freya a little bit confused by her question.

"Why are you interested in this story? It's in the past."

"It must be said that Tyr had never shown any interest in marrying him. And he was only traveling before Odin captured him. And you too, you had never looked at men. You were just training with my sisters and learning everything Mimir could teach you. You even said that you saw no interest in marriage."

"It must be believed that people change with time."

"Yes, it must be believed."

You sighed, taking your hands back to run them over your face.

"We got married over a hundred winters ago. Tyr helped me… he saved me when I was at rock bottom. I… I can see that he's also at rock bottom, but… he does things he would never do in normal times. Being so terrified of Odin, letting a child go to Asgard for a chimera… And he's always hiding in that damn closet. I've tried to get in there, you know. I wanted to confront him. But the door was locked. I tried several times, but every month, at a certain precise moment, the door is locked."

"Maybe he wants to… handle things his way," Freya tried to reassure.

"I don't know. I don't recognize him at all anymore. To be honest. I feel like I have an imposter in front of me."

Freya sighed before standing up to pour water into a glass before putting herbs in it. You watched her do it when she handed you the glass of water.

"It's just like last time. It'll relax you and help you rest. These last few days have been quite stressful."

"Thanks," you said as you took the glass.

"Try to rest. We're going to need all our strength soon."

After that, Freya left the room, leaving you alone. You swirled the water in the glass before drinking it in one go. You lay down on your makeshift bed, staring at the ceiling, letting the herbs take effect. You felt your muscles relax, your heartbeat became calm and regular. You closed your eyes, letting sleep take you.

You were woken up the next day, with a bang, by Brok who pounded on your door, announcing that the little boy had returned. You got up quickly upon hearing the news. Atreus had returned? Had he succeeded? You came out of your room to see the teenager was there, that he was fine and that above all, he had the mask with him.

The mask was real.

"I got the mask back," Atreus announced, smiling and showing the mask he had in his hands.

“You’re back!” Tyr said as he finally left his closet. “Are you okay?”

"I'm fine. I just hope unlocking this thing was Worth the cost," said Atreus looking at the mask in question.

“You have it!” Tyr exclaimed when he saw the mask the boy was holding in his hands. “What did it show you?”

"I didn't get to use it. They found out about Heimdall. I had to run. But least Odin can't use it either!"

"But… if you didn't get any answers form the mask… all you've done is steal Odin's greatest treasure. Just after your father"s killed his most loyal ally."

“So much the better,” you said, approaching Atreus. “Odin stole a lot of things from us. It’s only fair. After everything he’s done to us.”

"(Y/N)), do you realize? None of us are safe. Even here,” Tyr growled.

“So we have no choice,” said Freya determined. "We find Surtr, sound Gjallarhon, and bring Odin to justice. Now."

"You'd incinerate every soul in Asgard and call it self-defense?" Tyr asked sternly.

“Does he ever suggest plans or just crap on everyone else’s?” Freyr asked, giving Tyr a perplexed look.

“The obvious plan is staring you in the face!” Tyr growled. "We don't need Odin to use this. We can slip into Asgard and do it ourselves, right Under his nose."

"What are you talking about?" you asked, shooting Tyr a murderous glare. "There's no way to get into Asgard without someone noticing."

"(Y/N)'s right," Sindri said.

"They got the nig horn, don't they," Brok replied.

"Oh, so you expect them to SNEAK into Asgard, blowing a horn that souns across all the realms?" Sindri asked, perplexed by this shaky plan.

"I expect you to bite my blue buttcheek!"

"Please. Just… think about it."

"This is ridiculous," you said under your breath. "We might as well head to the great hall and surrender to Odin. It will be exactly the same.”

“That’s enough!” Kratos said in his authoritative voice before putting Mimir on the table to take the mask. "This mask… the easy answers that it promises. I know this… shortcuts always have a price. Atreus, you have carried it. What do you think?"

Atreus sighed, taking the mask back in his hands.

“At worse, we'll have something Odin wants as leverage,” he said, looking at the mask. "At best, if it really gives us all the answers, then we can make our own path… and nobody has to die."

"Grand. Now all we need's a way to Asgard," Mimir said.

"I… I know I've been a burden to you all…," Tyr said as he stood up from his seat, drawing everyone's attention to him. "I know you've questioned why you even pulled me out of that hole. I have too. But it's clear now."

Tyr walked around the table, approaching Kratos.

"This is what I'm needed for. This is my purpose. One last time," he continued, stopping near the Spartan. "I will pick up my spear and I will lead us to Asgard."

You couldn't help but look at your husband, surprised by what he had just said. Even Freyr and Freya were surprised by his behavior. At one point, he wanted to avoid a war at all costs and now, he wanted to lead you all to Asgard and take up arms? What was wrong with him anyway? Brok snorted, clearly also irritated by the attitude of the Norwegian God of War.

"'Scuce me… but if you got a way to Asgard, where's that idea been this whole fuckin' while?" Brok asked angrily and approached Tyr

Brok wasn't wrong. If Tyr knew all this time how to enter Asgard, why had he kept it a secret?

"You… withheld Asgard?" Kratos asked between his teeth, irritated by this news.

"Why did you hide such important information?!" you exclaimed angrily.

"He would have gotten us all killed. (Y/N). I only thought about your safety. And we needed to give Loki time to find his destiny. Here it is!" Tyr explained as he took the mask. "It's all led to this."

"Bullshit," you said between your teeth and walked away.

No matter what Tyr said and no matter what he did, you couldn't believe a single word he said. You leaned against the wall, the group continuing to discuss their invasion of Asgard. You and Brok seemed to be the only ones perplexed by Tyr's behavior. When the discussion was over, Tyr walked away from the group, still holding the mask in his hand, which didn't please Brok who hurried to stop him.

"Slow down, y'damn spruce," he said as he got in Tyr's way. "I still want to hear the details on this, uh, new way to Asgard you got. Spill it!"

"It's an ancient path. We can't reach it from here," Tyr quickly replied as he tried to reach his room, but Brok quickly got back in front of him, stopping him from going any further.

"Where then?"

"Let me collect my things and I'll show you."

"Y'aint got no things! And where you going with that mask?' Brok exclaimed angrily before slapping Tyr's hand, making the mask fall further away.

"Brok-"

"That belongs to the kid, he earned it! All you done was make passable dirt-soup."

"Brok, it's okay," said Atreus, quickly putting himself between the Giant and the dwarf, seeing that the situation was getting worse.

"No it ain't. This ain't righ. All the piece ain't welding to getther true. Like, what's with him callin' you "Loki" anyway? You know that ain't his name! Hey! I'm talkin' to you!"

Tyr had moved away from Brok, turning his back on him, but the blue dwarf was determined to have answers. Everyone's attention was on Brok and Tyr, also waiting for the explanations of the Norwegian God of War. But before anyone could react, Tyr pulled out a dagger, stabbing Brok in the chest.

"DO YOU NEVER SHUT UP?!!"

Everyone watched the scene shocked by what had just happened. No one reacted because of the shock. Suddenly, Tyr's appearance changed, revealing Odin.

Sindri screamed his brother's name, rushing to him. Odin had taken advantage of Atreus' surprise to take him hostage, holding the knife to his throat while Freya, Kratos and Freyr had drawn their weapons, slowly advancing towards the Allfather.

You stood there, completely paralyzed and unable to think properly. Your ears were ringing, your heart was beating at an incredible speed, your hands were shaking.

Brok was bleeding out.

Odin was ordering Freyr to give him the mask.

Kratos was ordering Odin to free his son.

Freya was saying she was going to kill her former husband with her own hands.

Sindri was begging Freya or you to come to Brok's aid.

You could only watch all this without being able to move a single muscle in your body.

"Sorry our time together is up, dear (Y/N)," Odin said, smiling slyly at you.

You felt your stomach turn at his words.

This guy was him all along. In Alfheim, you didn't save Tyr. You had only brought Odin to this house all this time.

You had not recovered your husband.

You saw Freya with her back to Odin, rushing to Brok to try to save him. You saw Freyr throw the mask at Odin. But the mask passed over the Allfather. You heard Kratos shout something to Atreus. The teenager transformed into a wolf, biting Odin's arm which sent him flying against the wall. Kratos rushed to his son while Odin took advantage of the chaos to pick up his precious mask, opening the closet door to let out his ravens which began to circle around him.

"Too bad, son," Odin said as he looked at Atreus. "Looks like war after all."

Before he could disappear, Kratos threw Draupnir, managing to snatch the mask from his hands as Odin escaped.

You stood there completely paralyzed. You couldn't react. You just stood there, watching Brok die in Sindri's arms before Sindri disappeared with him.

All this time, you had been in Odin's company.

All the times he tried to get close to you.

All the times you felt bad in his presence.

All the times.

Odin had just made fun of you.

One more time.

He had managed to trick you.

Tags: @ladycrowsworld

[roseeycreates-blog]

Imagine Tenzin, consumed by grief after Lin's passing, deciding to follow her into the afterlife.

After reading the bittersweet fanfic "Meant To Be" by @risingsoleil (check her ao3 page if you are a linzin fan. She's an amazing writer. I love her works!), an idea came to me: what if Tenzin journeyed through the 9 circles of Hell before reuniting with Lin in Paradise? Drawing from Dante Alighieri's Divine Comedy, specifically Dante's Inferno, Tenzin would confront his deepest fears and regrets in each circle, leading to a powerful and emotional reunion with Lin in the afterlife.

So here's Tenzin:

(Sorry about the arrow, I just added that detail because Picrew doesn't have that option.)

I chose a red arrow instead of blue to symbolize that he took his own life, which is why he's in Hell (all life is sacred). I dressed him in a red robe and added a golden choker. Finally, he has an earring with Lin's eye color, given to him by his guide.

His guide, Iroh:

In this story, He is Tenzin's Virgil, guiding him through the 9 circles of Hell. Lin asks Iroh to help Tenzin on his journey and gives him the earring that Tenzin wears. It's a symbol of Lin's presence with him throughout the journey.

Lastly, Lin:

(Can I just say she looks so pretty, I also added the scars)

Tenzin's Beatrice is waiting for him in Paradise. he’s also wearing an earring with Tenzin’s eye color, showing that she’s waiting for him on the other side.

( Picrew link male | female )

9 Circles of Hell:

The First Circle: Limbo

He comes across an unborn child and learns that Lin had a miscarriage after they broke up. He then sees a vision of what their life might have been if the child had lived. When he snaps out of this illusion, he finds himself holding a deformed baby.

The Second Circle: Lust

He reflects on his own desires and the complicated nature of his love for Lin. Temptations hit hard with visions of women pampering him, including an illusion of Pema. Just as he's about to give in, he sees Lin watching him, which snaps him back to his true goal: to be with her.

The Third Circle: Gluttony

He witnesses wealthy high-ranking figures, some from the Earth Kingdom, being devoured by beasts. They endlessly heal and suffer, showing the impact of their excessive wealth on others. This makes him rethink his own lifestyle.

The Fourth Circle: Greed

He sees greedy souls, including mercenaries and assassins like the combustion bender who hunted his parents, being crushed by boulders of gold. This makes him reflect on his own struggles—not for money, but the selfishness that came from the pressure to repopulate the Air Nation after his father’s death.

The Fifth Circle: Wrath

He encounters fallen soldiers from endless wars, especially Fire Nation armies from the Hundred Year War, stuck in muddy rivers that act like quicksand. This scene stirs up memories of the conflicts he and Lin faced before their breakup.

The Sixth Circle: Heresy

He sees people consumed by evil spirits. Unalaq is burning in a fiery tomb as punishment for his dark deeds. It makes him think about whether his own followers, who idolize airbenders, might end up suffering the same way.

The Seventh Circle: Violence

He sees the spirits of Fire Nation leaders who committed violence against innocents. One of them is the person who killed his grandmother. He realizes he belongs in this circle too, as he committed violence by taking his own life.

The Eighth Circle: Fraud

He sees scammers, manipulators, and impostors who deceive others for their gain. Hama, the first bloodbender, pretends to be a helpless old woman to trick people like Katara into helping her get revenge. He also sees an illusion of himself saying he's a fraud, struggling to be himself while trying to meet others’ expectations.

The Ninth Circle: Treachery

Finally, he sees betrayers, including Firelord Sozin and Ozai, frozen in icy pits. One of them accuses him, saying, “You also betrayed Lin—remember, you cheated!” The crowd roars, but as he’s overwhelmed by darkness, the earring starts to glow. Iroh steps in to guide him to the exit.

Reaching Paradise:

After everything that happened, Lin hugged him tightly. They stood there for a moment, just holding each other, overwhelmed by the joy of being reunited. Their smiles said it all—despite the pain and challenges, they were together again, and that made everything worthwhile.

"I died," Lin said quietly. "And you weren’t there."

"I know," he replied, looking down. "I heard from Akna about your last words..."

"Shhh," Lin cut him off gently, her voice softening. "No need to dwell on that."

"But I came here," he said earnestly, his eyes meeting hers.

"You came to find me," Lin said, her eyes shining with happiness.

"Of course I did," he said with a tender smile. "I couldn’t do anything else."

Then Lin gave him a bit of a lecture about his actions.

(lines from Castlevania)

[nicotinemaiden]

To become another's poison;

Pairing: Marazhai Aezyrraesh x F!Rogue Trader (Lavhinia)

Rating: E (Smut)

Tags: Jealousy, Dagger Play, Blood and Torture, Vaginal Fingering, PiV, Anal

Word count: 3,887

You can also read on AO3.

Summary:

Marazhai Aezyrraesh doesn't like when others touch his things. He doesn't even like when others look at his things. The problem, however, comes when he hadn't yet made clear to the Rogue Trader that she was his. That he knew, despite her confident attitude, that she was desperate for him to claim her. After a mission where the male mon-keigh she insisted on keeping around kept looking at her with longing, the Druhkari decided it was time to make her wishes true, to strip her of anything but him.

“Rogue Trader.”

The inhuman's cold, husky voice replaced the silence the automatic door into Lavhinia’s chambers had left upon closure, just before her pale eyes found the angry, hungry ones before her.

“Marazhai. I would ask what are you doing here, invading my privacy, but I doubt it would get me any answers.”

The Druhkari, having tried to quell his thirst with the unwilling help of the prey on the lower decks and finding them all wanting and unsatisfying for his needs, was mostly covered in blood, his weapons sheathed for the moment.

He looked at her in search of answers, an unwavering and challenging smile on his expression. He had seen things, both on the battlefield against her and afterwards, once they had… joined forces. 

From the beginning, from the first time he saw her, he could smell it. Feel it burning in her gaze. The stolen glances they exchanged when no one else was looking filled him with the want to test her, to learn the limits of her pain and the reach of her pleasure.

She was curious. Willing. Obedient. She could command a whole section of the galaxy with one word but she begged him to show her his ways with one gaze. And it had been a long time since he last had a pet of his own, even longer since one who showed so much promise.

How he wanted to see her on her knees for him. To see her bleeding and broken, her screams providing the music to this boringly quiet place. Her usually calm voice moaning his name.

How he wanted to claim her.

To submit her to such a wondrous and exquisite torture that she would beg for more the moment is over.

He almost couldn't stop himself from starting that instant, the slicky texture of his prey staining his skin, the delicious smell of it clouding his senses in a blanket of rapture —

Marazhai had no reason to stay his hand when it clawed her neck and brought her closer to him, his shadow darkening the blue of the gaze that challenged him.

“Usually when someone looks at me like that I either take their heads as a prize or claim their bodies for my personal fun.”

The real reason he had traveled the entirety of the ship from the lower decks to her chambers was simple and extremely complicated at the same time. Simple because it could be explained by just one word: lust. He didn’t need further explanation and no one would ask it from him.

Yet he hadn’t expected to feel such kind of attraction towards a mon-keigh's suffering… nor towards her groans and screams and the odor of her enticement. It was distracting, even in battle.

“Is that a threat, xenos, or a promise?”

Interest flickered across her eyes. An honest question. 

With his free hand he unsheathed the dagger from its place at his hip and slashed the side of her face superficially, enough to draw blood without leaving a scar, even with a weak body like hers. Her pained hiss was sweet and dragged long, an intake of air following it, her tongue licking the blood that reached her lips. He looked, mesmerized, and mimicked her by running his own tongue through her wound and following the trail of blood right onto her lips.

The moment his mouth was upon hers, his mind overwhelmed by the rush not only of her reaction but of his previous massacre which she had allowed without a reason more than to cater to his wishes, he lost the rest of his carefully learnt control.

Lavhinia clawed at his armor as if to ask him to get closer, the tip of her fingers missing their grab at first until he conceded, pushing her against her desk unceremoniously, ignoring every unlucky object in their path.

She landed hard against the metal of the table, catching herself with her hands upon it, looking at him breathless and disheveled. Pretty, but not nearly enough.

The Druhkari launched himself after her, standing between her legs, his dagger taunting to break the cloth above her neck. His free hand gripped her thigh to the table, the metal of his glove piercing her trousers.

“Will you be my pet, little mon-k- Lavhinia? Will you allow yourself to learn what your kind refuses and considers sinful? Will you allow me to show you the different flavours of pleasure only I can offer?”

The blade started slicing her shirt, deeper than she had expected, slicing her flesh just as easily. Breathing heavily and containing a surprised cry of pain she looked at the deep green pools of darkness in front of her and found desperate desire, an untamed craving of which she had seen signs before, even while they were enemies. And she just wanted to surrender to it, because she knew hers was looking back just the same.

Her chest exposed, her shirt torn from the side and easily removed afterward, the bright red of her blood making a fine decoration on her pale skin, she moved her mouth to pronounce her choice, her lips already pursuing the opposite ones to continue the game.

“Lord Captain. Esteemed member of the Inquisition and beloved affiliate of your retinue, Heinrix Van Calox, is currently asking to speak with you.”

She was distracted by the communication transmitted directly into her walls, looking up to the direction of the cold, almost robotic voice, and Marazhai took the opportunity to bite down her neck hard, making her cry and shudder. He left the dagger on the table and moved his metal covered fingers to her nipple, pinching it, pulling it. The Rogue Trader looked away, almost ashamed, her attitude dubious.

“Lord Captain? Should I send him your way?”

They looked at each other, the image of her grinding his middle as best she could without getting closer enough, bleeding for him, burned into his brain.

He knew the reason behind her doubts, he had seen the interactions between her and the male mon-keigh that always followed her around. He had seen others of their kind struck with the same illness as the male seemed to have fallen with, a useless, meaningless concept they called ‘love’. Or, if he was mistaken, it was surely something similar.

It made the mon-keigh feel entitled to things that weren't his. It made him feel… important, when he was little more than a fly, annoying and hardheaded, his head filled with ideas that shouldn't come to be. That wouldn't.

Because she will be his.

She will be his little pet, his good, submissive girl.

He'd even mark her, if she was good enough, if she endured his games.

And he wouldn't allow anyone else to touch what was his.

“Well? Aren't you going to answer? My patience is running low.”

The tip of his fingers invaded her inner thigh, tearing the cloth covering it easier than they would paper, and teased at the side of her cunt, not fully touching it. After a moment of shortcoming breath, she found her voice.

“Excuse me, Vox Master Vigdis, I'm extremely busy. Please tell Mr. Van C-”

The connection was interrupted, leaving a strange static for a couple of seconds before a new voice invaded the channel. He was growing tired of these pointless interruptions.

“Lavhinia, pardon my bluntness but I need to see you as soon as possible. Would you mind sparing a moment of your time… or, if you are so inclined, perhaps a bit longer?”

The implication was clear as day for anyone listening to the communication, which Lavhinia assumed was only the three of them thanks to the care her subordinates took with the privacy of their conversations. Still, three was still one too many and the Druhkari was gripping her tighter by the second, the hand that had been playing with her breasts now still, his nails digging her flesh.

His expression was unreadable, his mind focused on the punishment he would inflict upon her for making him wait, his hand moving to get back his dagger and use it on her belt. Her trousers, unmade by the tear of the metal nails on his gloves, gave up easily. He would lose his time no longer — he was drunk on the sensations and smell of her pain, just like he had been while he tortured her back in Commorragh, fighting with himself and his needs as his own torture in response.

It had been so sweet.

It was sweeter now that he knew how she tasted.

“I'm sorry Heinrix, I’ll call for you later.”

He gripped her waist and moved his glove right to her cunt, placing special care in how to circle her clit precisely, the tip of the metal grinding against the soft, wet flesh of her inner lips. The connection broke, making a series of controlled noises, just before she moaned for him, loud and unexpected.

The Rogue Trader skillfully found the bindings of his upper armor and undid them, pulling from the thing as if willing it to come off on its own since she had not the concentration required for it. With the smirk of a winner — of someone that hadn't doubted he would come on top, of someone capable of laying claim on something with a gaze — he moved his hand to her chin and made her look at him.

“You haven't answered my question.”

Startled by the sudden memory and proximity she shuddered, nodding without saying a word, waiting for him to crash his mouth with hers just like he had done before. He didn’t move, his expression unchanged, waiting.

Waiting for her to say it out loud.

“I'd be anything you want me to be.”

Grabbing her neck he positioned his covered fingers at the entrance of her pussy, her leg using the table as support while the other rested, her hole opened for him.

“You're going to be such a good girl.”

She moaned against his tongue after he started kissing her, three of his fingers sliding inside of her without effort, scrathing her insides in the most wonderful torture she could ever had imagined. His fingers moved with precision, applying pressure in her best spot, making her body grind against them fervently, the pain another layer to her pleasure.

He moved down to bite and lick her nipples, his unused hand helping him by playing with the one his mouth left free, and she felt herself pushed into oblivion.

But right before she could reach it he stopped, removing his fingers from inside her and bringing them to his mouth, licking the metal. She looked with interest and desperation, the edge of her climax interrupted, biting her lower lip with want.

Marazhai moved his fingers to her mouth and waited for her to comply without him having to voice it. After a brief look she opened her mouth, willing, and he put his fingers inside, making her lick them, pushing them so deep she gagged multiple times. He couldn’t wait to see her gag on his cock.

He stopped, wiping the remains of the fluid on her naked chest, and removed his upper armor with ease, the binds already unlocked. Following that, the glint of attraction shining bright in the Rogue Trader’s eyes, he removed his gloves. They were fun, the taste of her tainted with blood from the scratches they created such a delicious game. But he wanted to feel her, to sense the changes in her body as he did with her as he pleased. The contractions and spasms he provoked.

After a moment he removed his boots and trousers, unnecessary things for what he had in mind, and signaled her to move to him, her face admiring his build, his crevices, his multiple scars. She left no corner overlooked, no shadow uninspected, unbothered by the state of her clothes, by the wounds of her body. She approached him once she had had her fill scrutinizing him, his patience only enduring because he wanted to satisfy her curiosity, since she was so willing to follow his instructions.

The Rogue Trader grabbed his cock firmly, no more stranger to the gesture than she could be to holding a weapon in her hand, and traveled its full length excruciatingly slowly, never losing sight of the Druhkari's eyes. He clawed her hair and pushed her down, her knees readily bending to his will, her face looking up shadowed by his presence.She licked her lips in anticipation, positioned her hand better and brought her mouth to his lower head carefully.

He didn’t like to have any kind of care. He pushed her head to him until he could feel in the edge of his cock the start of her throat and pulled her back, repeating the movements and delighting himself with each of her gags. He did it quicker and quicker, ignoring the way her nails dug the skin of his thighs, focusing on the build up of his bliss. Her teeth scratched every now and then and he moaned a guttural sound each time while her tears overflowed and mixed down her lips with her saliva.

Not done with her for the night he pushed her away, making her land hard on the floor, her hair sweaty and tousled, her breath deeply labored. In a way that had never resonated with him before, he could see the beauty in her, in her expression, in the dirtiness remaining now in her, decorating her body with red and glistening. Why would he ever allow anyone else to admire it? Not without him guiding each step, deciding over her pleasure. Only he was allowed to show her everything she had been missing — he would make her addicted to him, unable to find pleasure if it wasn't him giving it.

He would be her poison.

“Now, my new and lovely pet, get yourself up to your desk.”

Her body trembling, she stood up and moved without a complaint, her doubts, if she still had any, completely silent. He followed, precise and agile, his left hand grabbing her wrist and pinning it to the surface under it, forcing her down, his own leg invading the table to chase her.

His dagger glistened at her side, calling to him, and he picked it up with his free hand. Soon the cold blade pressed against Lavhinia’s chin and forced it upwards, his mouth claiming hers with his taste still intact. Another day he would have the time and patience to taste himself from her mouth fully, the white warm liquid an appetizer for the rest of their meal, but he was too… rushing tonight, impatient, as if something could take her away from him and the ravishing bond they had created could break, forbidding him from ever trying again. Knowing their history of finding problems everywhere and beyond, she could be called out at any moment. He couldn’t allow that.

He had already decided he wanted her.

His blade cut near her shoulder first, making her flinch out of reach. Deeper still, it slashed a bit lower the next time, his tongue sequestering hers with a smirk on his lips. Her pain was consuming, his length spasming when its smell reached him, anxious.

And lower still down her arm he kept placing cuts without care of how deep they were, unimportant if they served their purpose, her cries and moans safe within the walls of his throat.

Almost desperate to feel her he nailed his dagger beside her arm, the blade sharp edge facing her skin so that it would keep doing its work even without his handling. Once done, the Druhkari grabbed his erection strongly, positioning himself at the center of her cunt. He bit down her lip hard, pulling it, a playful and curious smile on his face, a deep, dark, uncontrollable desire in his eyes. 

And he slid inside, all the way to his end, without a second to accommodate her to him, groaning next to her ear. She tightened further, closing her legs around him, her hands, both finally free, clawing at his back. She sliced her arm with his blade at the movement and flinched, but instead of moving away she simply dug her nails harder into his back. Her reaction was priceless, accepting the wounds, remaining in place, looking at him with confidence.

He would break that confidence step by step, until she was little more than a dirty, bloody mess.

And it started that instant, when he lowered himself from the desk bringing her to the edge with him and pushed her right leg further open, using it and his other hand clawing the table as support for his thrusts. He shoved his cock fully into her and exited her hole just as fully, both of them moaning at the feeling. It hurted her and it only made it more enticing.

He continued, raising his rhythm, biting his lip and admiring her and her cries. Sometimes she would try to close her legs, others she would spread them further. Every now and again his blade sliced near her stomach or her fingers would tangle in it searching for support only to be betrayed by the coldness of it. It was beautiful. He had missed sex like this. He couldn’t believe how long he had gone without it.

Even less could he believe the one who would capture his attention would be a lowly mon-keigh in place of his own kin. Yet the prospect of studying her was too intriguing to pass up.

“Tell me, Rogue Trader, how does it feel to be fucked by the one who tortured you? Tortured your companions? Killed your people?”

She froze for a moment but he continued, enjoying the look in her eyes, the defeat in them, the self-deprecation. He pushed harder, avoiding to leave her now, reaching a point inside her body that made her scream in pleasure. In shame. If he could bottle up a smell to remember when he pleased he would choose the one she emitted now, fighting with herself between her willingness to enjoy everything he offered and the reminder of his deeds, of his sins. He didn't need to wait for her to reveal the winner.

He gripped her hair to make her look at him, her face contorted between agony and ecstasy.

“Your master has given you a question. You will give him an answer.”

She coughed and grinded against him, her arms surrounding his neck, her climax building with her body enveloping his cock.

“It feels good. More than it has any right to.”

“Oh and it will feel even better. For me, it tastes like absolute victory.”

One last push, her head falling back, and she screamed his name between moans while she came undone, the continuous tightening and loosening of her cunt sending waves to his body, almost taking him with her.

But he had other plans, he needed to test her further still — it wouldn’t do if she turned out to be an incomplete pet. A useless pet.

Marazhai turned the human around, gaining a perfect view of her ass, her breasts squishing against the table. He pushed her head down to it too while using her cum to lubricate her back hole with his cock, sliding it up and down and popping its head into her ass, trying to enter. She groaned and moved, not fully resisting but not making things easier for him either.

He lowered his mouth near her ear and whispered his next words.

“I will fuck each of your holes and you will enjoy it, Lavhinia. You are fully mine. You need to understand it.”

She moved further away, her eyes slightly panicked, and only then did he realize the reason why it was being more difficult to penetrate her there. He smirked maliciously, the opportunity too perfect, a gift for him. It was extremely rare for a Druhkari to be a stranger to anal sex, it was in their nature to use everything given to them that could make the reaches of their pleasure greater. He supposed it was not so for mon-keighs. He should have known not to expect better from such lowly creatures.

“Please, Marazhai, I-”

Her voice broke when the head of his cock finally entered her ass, her eyes rolling backwards, her muttering incoherent and breathless.

“That’s not how you’re supposed to address me.”

Slower than he would have liked, the waves of pleasure shaking his body, he thrusted further inside, enacting cries of rapture and torment, the perfect combination. Once he reached as deep as he could he lowered his hand to her cunt and put three of his fingers inside, grabbing her with them and putting pressure in her most erotic spot, fucking her with his fingers more intensely and agile than if it was his dick. After the shock had passed and she was moaning uncontrollably, he started fucking her ass with firm shoves and pullouts.

“Please Master, I can’t resist…”

It sounded exactly as it should, defeated and accepting, completely submissive. He would make her say it a thousand times. Someday, he will even make her do so in front of her beloved crew, just to see her squirm, embarrassed and wet for him.

“That’s better. Go on, come for me my pet. You have earned it.”

After a couple more thrust and a well-timed press on her cunt she reached her climax a second time, panting and drained. It was fun, watching her reach her ecstasy for him, changing the labored breaths of the battlefield for the ones at the bedroom, claiming something from her no one could ever experiment in the same way. She made him feel possessive, even more so than his usual things, even more than he had been with his position as Dracon. Yet he attributed it to the fact that it was common to be attached to the newer toy.

He didn’t stop, not even for a second to allow her to compose herself, and the tension of her overstimulation just served to edge him further.

He was almost there. And it was almost a shame it would come to an end so soon.

Almost, because she would seek him further. And he would claim her again, over and over, showing her more pieces of his world. Drugs, hallucinogens, toys, chains. He hadn’t been fully prepared today for everything he wanted to test on her, he had not even fully trusted she would be so willing for him. But now that he knew, he had so many ideas. Thinking about them while fucking her ass with his cock and his cunt with his fingers drove him to perdition, to an explosive orgasm he had been needing for some time and failing to find a worthy partner to grant it to.

Grabbing his dick to pull it out, watching the mighty Rogue Trader with her clothes in tatters, covered in blood, cuts and bites, with her cum running down her legs and his semen sliding from her ass, he truly felt he had won their final battle.

He was the victor.

And he couldn’t wait to test all sorts of punishments on his new plaything.