#at any given moment I’m thinking about him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

purple-plum-petals · 12 hours ago

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Hi!! I saw you have requests open for Homicipher! Could I ask for a drabble with Mr. Gap? I feel like he's underrated but he's my favorite. Maybe a first kiss with him?

⊱ Connection ⊰ || Mr. Gap X Reader

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Character(s): Mr. Gap (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Spoilers for Homicipher (specifically Return End), Canon-typical Mentions of Violence (and horror-elements), Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms (Reader briefly uses physical pain to distract themselves from their emotional discomfort; they also sleep to avoid their emotions), Creature/Monster X Human Relationship (Mr. Gap doesn’t fully comprehend or understand the concept of love the way that humans do, but that’s a barrier for, like… the majority of the cast haha). Anything spoken in the other world’s language will be bolded. Genre: Drabble, Fluff (Hurt/Comfort), Slight Angst, Romantic or Platonic Relationship (It’s Complicated, honestly). Word Count: ~2,685 Request: “Hi!! I saw you have requests open for Homicipher! Could I ask for a drabble with Mr. Gap? I feel like he's underrated but he's my favorite. Maybe a first kiss with him?” Author’s Note: Yipee, my first Homicipher request! Thank you for sending one in! I find Mr. Gap’s character quite entertaining – I loved the running gag of him asking the MC for different parts of their body and being like “for real?” whenever you said no. I found his desire to brag to be quite endearing, too, strangely enough. A lot of the moments that had me chuckling involved Mr. Gap, so I’m somewhat fond of his character as a result. I haven’t written any horror-meets-romance stories since my Creepypasta days, so I apologize if this is a little rough or OOC. I’m still trying to finish the game and digest all the lore haha.

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated! ♡

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Living within the other world had become your new normal at this point, even if you spent most of your days curled under the covers of whatever bed you could find. You slept whenever you had the chance. It wasn’t necessarily because you were tired, but rather a desire to keep your mind from wandering too much. You still found the occasional earthquakes and frequently shifting dimly-lit hallways confusing to traverse at best or frustrating to deal with at worst, but you hoped you would slowly grow to get used to them with more time.

You run your hands down your face as you lay on the strangely pristine white bed, staring down at the blue bag that rested by your feet on the floor. For whatever reason, there was a strange feeling of loneliness that was deep-seated in your chest. It was a weight pulling you down, and it was one that had lingered for quite some time now.

When you returned to the other world, you realized that you would most likely never be able to see Mr. Silvair or Mr. Crawling again. Despite telling yourself it was fine, that life was all about encounters and departures, that horrendous emptiness in your heart hadn’t diminished yet.

You remember when Mr. Gap brought you back to the other world in exchange for a heart – your mind is conflicted when you think about the organ you had given him, a heart that wasn’t yours. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying not to think about it for longer than you need to.

You try to remember his hand reaching out from the dark void of the bag after arriving in the strange world once more. You remember the way his cold palm felt against your scalp, lightly patting your hair in a way you thought was meant to be comforting… only for him to state he wanted your head with that jokester-esque grin of his.

You chuckle quietly to yourself at the memory of the expression that crossed his face whenever you told him that, no, he’s not allowed to take your fingers or whatever else seems to pique his interest at the moment. Then, your mind remembers the look on his face when you asked if he was worried about you. Mr. Gap didn’t seem as though he was capable of experiencing emotions the way that most humans were, but, well… it was someone to talk to, at least, even if you run the risk of him asking for an organ or body part or hair. What did he even do with that stuff, anyway?

Letting out a deep sigh, your eyes fall to the bag on the floor. He really only appeared whenever he wanted, but maybe you could see if he was in the mood to at least startle you as he so often enjoyed doing. With a deep breath, you reach down and grab the bag by its black straps, feeling the somewhat rough fabric against your palms. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, per se, but it was a reminder that at least you could still feel.

You open the carrier, and the only thing that greets you is that inky blackness. You briefly wonder if it was an infinite darkness held within the unassuming gym bag, and what would happen if you just threw random things inside for the fun of it. However, as you stare into the void, a familiar face pops into view, effectively startling you out of your trance.

Mr. Gap smiles even wider at your reaction, seemingly proud of himself for still managing to startle you. You’d think that you would be more immune to jumpscares after spending so much time in the other world, but apparently not.

“Scared you.” Mr. Gap speaks proudly, the language you had slowly been absorbing over your journey becoming easier and easier to decipher and remember. That was good at least, you thought. It would be far too difficult to live in a place where you couldn’t even understand what everyone was saying.

You roll your eyes at him, speaking under your breath but loud enough so he could hear your muttering, “You’re rude, you know that?”

He stares up at you with an unimpressed expression, waiting for you to speak again. Eventually, you tell him with a frown, speaking to him in a language he understood, “You mean.”

It was his turn to roll his eyes at you, yet he seemingly did not take any offense to your comment. Then, his gaze returns to your face, and you two simply stare at each other in a prolonged silence. Well, now what? How exactly do you explain to a creature that you were lonely when they probably couldn’t even empathize with what you were experiencing? Did you even know the word for lonely in their language, if there was one?

“I, umm…” You pause, taking a moment to try and figure out the words to say, averting your gaze to a crack in the concrete flooring of the room you had made into your makeshift home. Mr. Gap is surprisingly patient, staring up at you while your hands begin to fidget with the textured straps of the bag. You look back down at him and say, your voice is surprisingly soft, “I upset. Want talk.”

Then, almost as if on cue, he smiles and reaches a hand out of the bag, making a grabbing motion as he asks, “Give heart?”

Honestly, you weren’t sure what else you were expecting, and now you felt like an idiot for expecting literally anything else to come out of his mouth. You frown deeply and quickly zip up the bag, disregarding the shocked expression on his face at the action, before tossing it on the floor without a second thought. You let out a groan, clawing your hands down your face while trying to ignore the stinging sensation your nails left in their wake across your skin.

At least the pain raking across your flesh was a distraction from the ache in your chest.

You decide, once more, to take a nap. Whenever your mind was racing or the thoughts became too much to bear, you slept. Honestly, there wasn’t much else you could do here. After all, you weren’t in the mood to go around swinging at anything and everything with your crowbar, especially since you had vowed to only use it in self-defense. This world was your home now, and you didn’t want to make enemies who would, in return, only make your existence more miserable.

You close your eyes and attempt to drift off into the world of dreams, a place that wasn’t this world nor the one you came from, yet your attention is grabbed by the feeling of something shifting under the covers. Your eyes fly open faster than light as your fist grabs the thick comforter, lifting it quickly while your other hand went to grab the crowbar you kept by your bedside.

However, Mr. Gap’s face comes into view, and your hand pauses as soon as your fingers graze across the rusted metal of your weapon. You frown deeply and tell him with a sternness in your tone, “I told you to stop doing that – I’m going to accidentally kill you one of these days.”

“Why upset?” He asks you suddenly, and it’s a question that has your mind stopped in its tracks. You hadn’t been expecting him to come back so soon, let alone ask you a question like that. For a moment, you wonder if he was worried about you, only for the memory of the last time you asked him that question to pop into your head.

You lay there, staring at the darkness under the covers, debating on whether or not you should tell him your true feelings. After some moment of contemplation, you decide to try and speak with him about what you have been experiencing. After all, the worst thing that would probably happen is him asking for your heart again or something.

“I…” You start, pausing for a moment to swallow, your tongue strangely heavy in your mouth, “No home. I lonely.”

Mr. Gap’s brows furrow and he states plainly, “This home.”

Just as you thought, he didn’t understand. If anything, your statement only seemed to confuse him further. His expression was also different, one you hadn’t quite seen on him before. You had seen him shocked, smug, and displeased, but the look on his face appeared almost… frustrated?

You begin to try and snake your way out from under the covers, feeling like going on a walk now instead of trying to take a nap. However, the room suddenly goes dark as Mr. Gap pulls you back under the sheets, covering your entire body in the surprisingly soft duvet. For a moment, you feel panic swell in your veins and you wonder if something you had said upset him to the point of wanting to kill you. However, no pain ever came. You just heard his voice state once more, “This home.”

“No, I know it’s my home now, I just…” You speak, your mind going through word after word, attempting to translate what you want to tell him in his language. It was a little unnerving, being unable to see anything in the darkness that now enveloped your body. You pushed that anxiety aside, though, telling Mr. Gap, “I… miss touch. Miss connection. This world different – lonely.”

There’s once again no reply, and soon the feeling of another under the sheets disappears. You let out a long sigh as you remove yourself from under the covers, Mr. Gap no longer under the blanket with you. You take a moment to compose yourself before standing up from the bed and grabbing your reliable crowbar – it was walking time.

You walked and walked in circles until your legs felt ready to collapse, returning to your makeshift base after what seemed like hours. You fell face-first onto the bed, your crowbar slipping from your hand to the concrete floor with a loud clatter; you probably would have cringed at the noise if not for the exhaustion in your bones. There’s a long stretch of silence, and you feel sleep start to creep into your mind, when a simple “Hello” snaps you out of your stupor.

You turn your head from where it was nuzzled into a pillow to look down at the bag you had tossed to the floor earlier, seeing Mr. Gap peeking up at you from inside. You wonder if you should say anything back before eventually relenting, echoing to him the same greeting.

There’s a shuffling noise, the sound of paper being crinkled before you watch as he pulls out what appears to be a magazine, holding it out for you to take. You sit up in the bed and look down at him with a blank expression, saying with your lips pulled into a flat line, “No head. No finger. No heart–”

“Not want anything.” He replies, effectively cutting you off as he holds out the magazine closer to you. It seems as though he can read the expression of pure disbelief on your face before he clarifies, “Take paper. You have.”

Despite some reservations, you eventually do reach out and take the small book from his grasp, whispering your thanks. It’s a relatively new magazine, surprisingly, and only the edges of the glossy paper seemed crinkled. You flip through the pages, wondering what information you were supposed to be deriving from the book. After all, it didn’t seem like anything special–...

Then, a picture of two people hugging appeared. Two humans, holding each other in a tight embrace with bright and happy smiles on their faces. One was kissing the other’s cheek, and the mere sight alone caused your breath to hitch. Oh, it seemed like ages since the last time you felt the level of comfort with another like the people in the picture, and there was a part of yourself that regretted coming back. It wasn’t like you belonged in your world anymore, either… you really were a monster with nowhere to call home, weren’t you?

“Why upset?” Mr. Gap asks, his voice surprisingly gentle. You look down at him and wonder how he knew you were hurting. Then, you heard the sound of something hitting the pages of the magazine in your hand. Your gaze returns to the book below you, noticing the water droplets that had fallen down your cheeks and onto the magazine, causing the ink on the paper to bleed slightly. You quickly wipe your face yet, before you can do anything else, two arms wrap around your waist and your body is once again shrouded in the darkness under the covers as Mr. Gap pulls you under.

His body is cold to the touch, you note, yet it’s not an unpleasant sensation. Before you have the chance to speak, you hear Mr. Gap tapping the page of the magazine in your hand, asking you quietly, “You want that? Touch?”

“Do I… want a hug?” You ask him, wishing you had the ability to see in the dark. You hum and lay your head back, enjoying the softness of the pillow underneath your skull, “I want good touch.”

You close your eyes and wait, expecting Mr. Gap to ask for something in return or simply disappear… but he doesn’t, and you find your eyes flying open when you feel his arms wrap around your torso. His touch was experimental, uncertain as his palms rested against your lower back. His head is resting on your stomach and although you cannot see him, you know he is staring at your face through the darkness.

You suddenly find yourself becoming choked up, the tears forming in your eyes as your arms instinctively wrap around him as well, holding him close to your body like one would hold a stuffed toy. Mr. Gap makes a strangled noise, yet you don’t let up on your hold. You sit up on the bed, dragging him along with you, before nuzzling your face into what you assumed was his neck.

He’s completely frozen, his hold on you never once faltering yet never once tightening, either. A part of you wonders if you broke him or something, especially considering he had never really been the physically affectionate type. You both sit like this under the covers for a long time, and you eventually feel his body and muscles relax under your touch.

While the ache in your chest wasn’t gone, it had definitely diminished as you both held onto each other with a tinge of desperation in both of your actions. You let out a sigh, and you feel Mr. Gap shiver as your warm breath fans against his cold skin. The dried tear stains on your cheeks made your skin feel tight, but you smiled nevertheless as you whispered to him, “Thank you. I grateful – happy.”

Your hand reaches up, cupping his cheek in your palm as you slowly guide his face to yours. Oh, how you wish you could have seen his expression as you placed a kiss on his cheek, your slightly chapped lips pressing against his marred flesh. You feel him jolt, and you wonder if he’ll disappear right then and there. He doesn’t though, and instead, you feel his hands remove themselves from your hips to hold your face in his grasp.

Instinctively, you close your eyes, and you feel the slight tremble in his fingers as he leans closer. You smile softly, finding his nervous demeanor to be quite cute considering how smug he tended to be. Then, you felt it, his lips against your cheek.

Mr. Gap’s lips were in even worse shape than yours, but you found yourself not caring in the slightest as he placed shockingly gentle kisses against the apple of your cheek. You giggle at the sweet action, the noise of your laughter egging him on as his kisses become more confident and more frequent. You do the same, placing feather-light kisses against his skin, whispering to him as you pepper his face in smooches, “Happy, happy, happy...”

#🌸 . plum writes #💌 . anon #homicipher #文字化化 #homicipher x reader #mr gap #mr gap x reader #homicipher x you #mr gap x you #homicipher imagines #homicipher drabbles #imagines #drabble #one shot #angst #fluff #x reader #reader insert

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maikissed · 3 days ago

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cherry flavoured lips part 5

Kylian Mbappéx reader

summary: No pretence, no lies, no avoidance. Just them and nothing around to ruin it. At last. She only regretted that they made it harder for themselves to achieve it.

warning: smut

note: I've been struggling with the smut. Ended up hating it LOL.

She was angry, to say the least. She did not have any organized plan or vision for the future tucked up in her head, that she would find now ruined and lost after Ian unceremoniously left her. And she was not upset, or heartbroken, oh that she definitely wasn’t. She focused for a minute, tried to find a minuscule source that might have given her any sign that deep inside she was in fact sorrowful after being rejected, or was she? Truthfully, she was the one that initiated this unprecedented conversation between them. And as the result was expected and anticipated even, she still found herself mad at how it all turned out at the end. Like she found herself at the same miserable spot she was in before.

“It was a very simple question, Ian” she articulated calmly.

Ian seemed irritated, uncomfortable.

“You are asking if I love you, but cannot give me a straight answer yourself” he commented, gazing up at her.

She was standing so unnatural and stiffly, facing him, towering over him, like they were going through some kind of trial. She was the prosecutor, and he was the suspect waiting for more charges fired his way. Yet the roles might be reversed in a blink of an eye and there was a high possibility that it would be her facing the death penalty at the very end. Who was going to pass the sentence? Her palms were itching.

“I asked you first, it’s important to me” bold, cool and reserved.

“So my answer defines yours? That’s how you see it?” he squinted his eyes searching for a trick, a deceit.

He turned distrustful. She was aware what caused it.

She sighed, dropping her arms, already feeling worn out by this conversation.

“Do you know how I see it?” Ian started after few seconds and she turned her head back to him in alert “I think you’re running from something and that exhausting getaway has pushed you into my arms” he nodded and she frowned in question “I am not blind, y/n, I can tell that the only person you really want is him”

She said nothing, swallowing something big and bulky that started to form in her throat. No words came out still, she just shook her head. In her own defence? A mere, pitiful try.

“Why are you doing this? Are you trying to punish him or yourself? Because clearly this is not about me” he seemed to enjoy this upper hand. But there was a dull ache visible in his eyes, like he felt deceived “That is actually funny to be honest, even when we are having sex you seem disappointed when you open your eyes and look at me”

“Oh, what in the hell, Ian?” she moaned in resentment, feeling uncomfortable under his investigating stare. And agitated by the choice of his words.

She turned into a suspect, much closer now to be announced as convict.

“You know what, I’m sorry” he reached with his hand to scratch his brow “I don’t want to fight with you like that. I am not angry with you, just feel a little used, that is all” he muttered softly and as he looked down at his hand and then back up at her the ache made place for generous ease. He was waiting for a perfect moment to let it all out, she gave him one.

And her? She was not sorrowful, she did not feel the despair flooding her heart and sinking it at the bottom of her stomach. She took one deep breath and wondered when the feeling of love turned her into a stone. A cold statue, an insensitive performer. She toyed with him all this time. And that thought actually made her a tad sullen.

“I’ll pack my things, I have a flight back to London in three hours” were Ian’s next words.

She shuddered, bringing her gaze back to him.

“I am sorry” her voice weak and abashed “It was not my intention to treat you this way” and this was an honest confession.

And he smiled at her in answer, almost like realising how everything sooner or later falls back in it’s place.

Fleur very much enjoyed when Ethan and Kylian were visiting with their parents, joining the family for a dinner from time to time. She liked the company of these two boys and their father, Wilfried was absolutely one of the most entertaining people she knew. He liked to narrate the most captivating stories and was not irritated by her oh so many questions she liked to throw in in the middle of his story. He was very patient, her father was too, but she knew her father too well for him to be so amusing. Fayza, on the other hand, was giving off the impression of a very intense and fierce woman, that’s why Fleur was watching herself to not be too pushy towards her, although she was kind and lovely. It was her demeanour that brought much respect in Fleur, for she made sure to be polite and careful. Still at the end of the day she was a sweet aunt.

“Ethan, are you growing out your hair?” she started in her funny, so much adult voice and the boy smiled at her after he greeted her.

“Yes, kind of” he grinned “Do you think it suits me?”

“Not really” she shrugged carelessly and then her ears reached a characteristic laugh from behind them.

She was always playful with Ethan, because he was playful with her. She beamed when she noticed Kylian enter the anteroom.

As she reached with her arms to hug him she could not fight the excitation over the news she so desperately wanted to announce to him. Maybe it was not her place, but she just… couldn’t keep it in.

“They’ve broken up, you know” she smiled sheepishly and he kneeled in front of her handing her a sweet little bouquet of flowers.

“Who?” he knitted his brows questioningly.

A bigger bouquet in his other hand, probably for Fleur’s mother. And a lovely present bag under it.

“Y/n and Ian” she rolled her eyes in a “duh” kind of manner “Good for her, I feel like he was sucking out the life out of her, can you believe it?” she huffed in displease.

“Well, people bond and sometimes part, that’s the way of life” seemed like a proper answer to this young girl.

It almost made him laugh out loud when he noticed her judgemental frown as she stared at him. Something like “don’t give me shit right now”, he could tell because her sister often graced him with this type of face. Her beautiful, lovely and stubborn sister he could not wait to see tonight. He hoped she was here.

“We shouldn’t bond with people that are just not right for us, isn’t it true?” she asked.

“Yes, it’s very much true, Fleur. However sometimes it’s not so obvious at the beginning. You just get to know the person with time”

“Yeah, well” her face turned serious again, aristocratic and modest “You and her were always great together, I cannot fathom how you did not bond since you are clearly idiotically in love with each other” she just shrugged, sinking her nose in the flowers she held now with both hands “Come, the dinner is almost ready” she said simply when she turned around.

Fleur was too smart for her own good. And Kylian stood there for few more seconds, dumbfounded.

When he finally came back to his senses he entered the dining room when everybody gathered but y/n was nowhere to be seen. It was her mother that obviously noticed his curiosity and after thanking for the beautiful flowers he picked for her, mentioned that she was in the kitchen, finishing preparing the food. And of course he decided to see her first, hoping that they were not bound the spend an uncomfortable evening.

He entered the room silently, spotting her standing over the kitchen counter, a knife in her hand and vegetables on the board in front of her. She was facing him but did not notice him at first. But with the corner of her eye she could spot the movement and raised her head to finally see who has joined her. Sharp chop on the board was the first thing, the next thing he could her was her pained cry.

“Ah, shit!” she yelped holding up her hand.

And without any thought he ran up to her, to see if she’s alright. She stared at her palm as he neared her and he knew very well what was coming. She could not stand the sight of blood, it made her dizzy and nauseous, she was afraid of needles since the earliest days. So he wrapped his arm around her middle, catching her injured and bloody hand below the wrist with the other.

“One step back, to the sink” he instructed calmly, and he could feel she begun to slump in his hold.

There was a lot of blood, already dripping on his fingers. But as he put her fingers under the running water he could see that stitches were not necessary, the knife just properly scratched the pad of her middle finger.

“It’s alright, just a tiny little cut” he murmured, examining her hand, looking for any additional cuts.

“Mhm” she breathed on his cheek and when he raised his head, he noticed she was looking at him all this time.

The proximity, her big, round, shaken eyes stunned him for a moment. But he had to move, she needed and aid.

“You just need a bandage. Can you stand on your own?” he made sure, slowly and very carefully backing his hand away from her waist.

She nodded slowly, still looking at him, and he lingered for just a short moment before rushing in the direction of the medicine cabinet. And this little incident end up with her finger decently secured with a quite big amount of bandage and tape. She snickered at the sight of it, and after considering it for a moment, she actually brought her hand up, curling other fingers down to grace him with a rude gesture, her puppet looking like finger almost in his face.

“Come on, I did a decent job” he frowned before smiling at her softly.

“You did, thank you” and she smiled back at him “If it weren’t for you I’d probably faint and bleed myself to death” she joked looking back at the vegetables awaiting on the chopping board.

“Your cells have the capacity of sealing such cut back together themselves, you know?” he muttered carelessly, reaching for the knife to finish her job himself. He would not let her ruin the bandage now.

“Oh, wow there, Sherlock. I was kidding and I was paying attention in anatomy class for your information” she snickered taking a step to the side to let him take her place.

“Of course you were” he snorted, but meaning what he said, looking at her playfully.

She looked calmer and healthier. He was glad. She blinked like finally realising he was here with her and they were at last having an easy and warm conversation. Maybe she was glad too. For a moment there was silence, but she lingered close to him.

“Those are too big, cut them smaller” she almost whispered while she inspected his cucumber cutting abilities.

“Keep your fingers away, please” he muttered indignantly and she actually laughed out loud.

“Sorry” she breathed and he resumed. But there was something tender about this word as she voiced it out “I really am sorry, Kylian” now, it was a whisper.

Yet he was determined to keep on cutting the cucumber, something in him turned defensive and he was worried she at last would put him in his place. As a friend, as a childhood companion, like it used to be before. But she could not have it like that, so she reached with her hand and delicately placed it over his forearm. So he had no choice but to look at her. And he was seeing her, seeing her fully, and there, in the reflection of her beautiful, glimmering eyes he could spot his absolute devotion, his dedication, he could see it clearly. Could she?

“Love is a scary emotion” her voice quiet and careful, her eyes looking down at his lips for a moment, but out of bashfulness “I thought I was doing the right thing for myself, but instead I put myself in endless misery” she confidently continued “I am so sorry for pushing you away and you have every right to hate me for it”

“Nothing in this world would make me hate you. There’s not a thing I would not forgive you for” he opposed, feeling hurt at the thought that she was drawing such conclusions.

“Don’t say that” she frowned, her eyes turning even bigger “I’ve hurt you, I did an awful thing, admit it. I own you an honest apology, then you might consider if I deserve forgiveness” her voice breaking, her palms shaking, her eyes turning wetter, but she stood her ground, did not hide her emotions.

So he turned to her, making sure that every word he intended to say next she would find honest and real. And right.

“I acted up at the start, but the truth is that I would wait for you as long as it takes, I would step down, move into the shadow of your life, stop being an obstacle” she started to shake her head after, wanting to disagree, wanting to let him know that she did not see him that way, but he continued “I would be patient, I would let you make the choices that are right for you, because you are your own person. But I would be here, waiting, even if it meant waiting for the rest of my life, because you are my choice. And it would be my choice and I am okay with it, because I love you and I loved you long before I could understand what love actually is. That’s why you don’t have to say anything for I have already forgiven you”

A little sob broke out of her chest and she quickly turned her head to the side to hide her obvious tears streaming down her face.

“Hey” he whispered “It was not my intention to make you cry like this” and he reached for her hand to stop her from hiding her emotions. But delicately and considerably, wanting to be nothing but gentle. Her body was shaking with more sobs.

She turned back to him and started nodding like a little girl making peace with her subtle outburst of emotion. It made him smile at her.

“Loves, where are the salads?” y/n’s mother surprised them by unexpectedly charging into the room, halting at the doors after noticing the sight in front of her. Y/n turned to the other side so she could not notice her red and swollen face, her hand reaching up to wipe the cheeks dry “Sorry, is everything alright?” she asked, slightly embarrassed “What’s happened to your finger, y/n?”

Y/n sniffled before answering:

“I shoved it up his ass” she muttered quite frankly, before wrapping an arm around Kylian’s bicep, then she simply put her head on his shoulder.

He started to shake with laughter, trying to compose himself but truthfully found it difficult. He laughed out and y/n accompanied him.

“Oh, how funny you are” she sneered at her daughter but there was a gentle smile as well that finally broke on her face “Alright, you have five more minutes, lovebirds. Then I want my salads on the table”

Are you asleep?

She sent the message and begun to stare at the screen of her phone with gnawing impatience. She hoped he was awake as well. She itched with need to have him close, only today realising the size of the desolation that has grown in her heart when they parted. Their whole family stayed for the night, as they often used to when visiting their home on the countryside. She perceived their previous conversation unfinished and still felt like she owed Kylian more explanation. His confession, on the other hand, was nothing she could ever expect, not because she was hesitant to believe in honesty of his words, but for the reason that he drew it out so naturally, without any strain or difficulty. Almost like he unveiled the hidden truth of life everyone desire to find, using the simplest words. That is how it sounded to her, and she wasn’t very sure how she was supposed to handle it now. He was not terrified by it, he expected nothing while giving her his all. She was afraid she was not so experienced in the art of love, she worried she was not fit for it.

He answered the message after a while and she realised she drifted off in thought.

Non, why aren’t you asleep?

She typed back the answer with no hesitation.

Come to me?

And it didn’t take him long because just few minutes later she could hear gentle knock on the door to her room, so she jumped out her bed and run up to let him in. She smiled as soon as she saw him.

“It’s your birthday in twenty minutes” he murmured, holding up a little present bag in front of him.

“Good” she whispered “I wanted to spend it with you” she took the bag and then reached for his hand to guide him inside “Do you mind if I open it later? It is a bad luck to open the present before actual birthday day” she asked while placing it on the dresser near the door.

“You are way too superstitious” he snickered and she rolled her eyes at his answer.

“Maybe, but it kept me safe to this day”

Kylian shot her a mocking look and she laughed at his reaction, only then realising that they were still holding hands. She looked down at them as they stayed joined, feeling affection rising in her chest. She enjoyed this feeling. And she wanted him closer. So she took a step back to guide them to her bed so they could rest. He followed and they sat down comfortably at the edge of it.

“I was afraid this year would be the first time I’d spend my birthday without you”

He just smiled at her warmly and she took a deep breath, suddenly realising that she calmed much more when he was here. When he was listening and looking at her.

“I’ve put myself in this emotional prison, knowing that I was doing the exact opposite of what my heart called for” she murmured switching from looking at his face and back at their hands “I piqued Ian purposefully, I am a coward and I did not know how to free myself, so I was glad when he turned out to be aware of everything. But I was so distressed by what I’ve done, I thought you would never want me back”

He squeezed her hand reassuringly, this time letting her speak whatever she needed to let out. Giving her time and space for it. But at this point the nervousness hit her strong back again, because she was worried she was not so good with words like he was. She was not used to it. But the words she was so desperately trying to reach were the most perfect ones. The right ones. She decided on moving a tad closer to him, his warmth and scent wrapping around her.

“So…” she started and there was a cheeky smirk that appeared on his lips.

He was so definitely going to tease her now. She guessed not much has changed, but it was a good sign. And he was so handsome, she wanted to punch him in the face.

“So what, miss eloquence?” he muttered and her heart skipped a bit when his low voice reached her ears.

“Don’t make fun of me now” she whispered, it was not her intention but she whispered, realising that all her senses were now filled with him, the spark in his eyes, his breathing, his touch.

“I am not” he opposed, reaching with his hand to gently stroke her cheek, his knuckles lovingly grazing the skin.

Delicate and tender, she felt the touch with her whole body, within her soul.

“Je t'aime” she whispered while leaning even closer to him, but lingering, wanting to make sure that he still felt that way. That nothing changed during the evening, that he did not change his mind.

She looked him in the eye and there it was again, the simplicity, the obviousness, that sweet spark in his eyes and a smile on his face, and all of it – so serene. And as she finally said it, addressing this confession to him, she realised there was no grand secret, no hidden truth of life, but the only truth of one’s heart. And she was free. His love was the only one to grant her that freedom.

“Didn’t hear you properly” he said “Could you repeat?”

She sniggered at that but reached with her hands to wrap them around his neck, leaning closer to softly whisper into his ear:

“I love you, Kylian” she sang “You and only you” she smiled “I love you”

His arm wrapped tighter around her and she moved so she could face him again. She knew that look in his eyes, so dark, so soft and sparkly.

“One more time”

She giggled. A stronger beat of her heart and she kissed him, a delicate peck on the lips, he hummed as she leaned back.

“I love you” she kissed him again and another “I love you” after.

The next kiss lingered, he let her guide it on her own pace, maybe because he regretted the times when he was more demanding on this part, when he kissed her or touched her ways that weren’t proper many times before. She pressed onto him, adding more fervency into this contact, soft but sure touches, she begun to move, trying to be closer, trying to take more and more. But as soon as he felt her mouth opening slightly, he broke the kiss and his lips followed a path, from the corner of her lips, to her jaw, and then lower to her neck. Her fingers rested on his nape, she closed her eyes and let herself feel. He was being delicate, patient, savouring her, experiencing her. Slow, too slow, she started to burn, she realised. That funny and sweet little spot he reached and bit on delicately, send an intoxicating shot through her whole body and she jerked breathlessly. Many other places on her body yearned for his attention, yet he was not in a hurry. It was a way too precious moment for Kylian to rush anything. She enjoyed every second of this special attention, but there was much more, so much more she wanted. Her fingers timidly reached for the buttons of the little night sweater she was wearing, one undone, then another and then – he reached for her fingers when he finally noticed it. Her eyes hazy and lids heavy as she looked at him, he looked down, her breasts clad in a delicate bra already visible to him, beautiful, soft skin unveiled. He wanted to kiss her there. But, there was hesitation.

“We shouldn’t” he whispered “We are not alone”

“Everybody is asleep” she reached for another button, her eyes focused on his face, but his eyes could not fight the temptation to see another piece of her skin being unveiled “Their rooms are far” the last button undone.

She was not particularly nervous now, but her fingers shook as she grabbed the folds of the sweater and pulled it down her arms. She could see him swallow and she loved that to a great extent. So she stood up, in front of him, untying the little ribbon of her fluffy pants and let the garment fall off her hips. Slowly, as he seemed to enjoy, she put one knee at the side of his thigh, her hand reaching to him, resting against his cheek. His eyes locked with hers and she knew she had him there. He was mesmerized. She straddled him the next second, pressing her lips against his once more. The kiss finally deepened, his hands travelled from her waist to her back, his touch soothing her. She felt the same thrill she did when they were kissing in the orchards. She wanted to press him down on the mattress, but again he had other ideas. He pulled away and put his mouth on the skin under her collarbone. And again, he was savouring it. Slow, moist and adoring kisses reaching lower, and she gasped when he placed one on the still clothed nipple. He bit on it, a moan broke out from her throat, her head already a spinning mess. He raised his head with a little smile and surely captured her mouth. She moved against him, she could feel him, all of him. Never before she felt more alive.

“Can I?” he asked, while his hand still placed against her back moved higher, touching the clasp of her bra.

“Yes” the answer was rather quick.

He removed it without struggle and she smirked at him. She never truly enjoyed sex before, no one could really find out about it, but the fact that he was the only person that could awaken such strong elation in her was a little guilty secret of hers. Until now.

He took her hand in his, the left one, with the finger still clad in bandage, and sweetly kissed her knuckles. He still seemed to consider.

“Sit next to me” he instructed and she wondered, but did as he asked.

To her surprise he kneeled in front of her.

“I want to taste you” he stated confidently, removing the t-shirt he was wearing. She shivered.

Oh, God.

“Can I kiss you, love?” his voice was so steady but also alluring, she found herself struggle to speak.

So she nodded, trying to compose herself.

“I can’t hear you, I won’t do anything you don’t directly agree with” he caressed her calf as he said so. There was something demanding in his voice, but still gentle, no pressing.

“Yes, please” her voice shaky but sure.

His fingers travelled up and rested at her hips, grabbing the strings of her underwear. He was watching her expressions attentively, searching of any sings of discomfort. She rose her hips up, giving him none. And as it was foreseeable he dragged the material down her legs very slowly. She was sure she blushed heavily as they held the eye contact. For a moment she lost the sense of reality, arousement coming to her in more persistent waves. He smiled cheekily and she moved closer, more to the edge of the bed, being able to perfectly read off his request. And he did not move yet.

“A little wider, love” hotness spread all over the skin of her cheeks and neck again.

She felt a tad silly now, because once again there was no abashment in the way he touched her, or spoke to her or even looked at her. And despite the fact that this moment thrilled her greatly, she was also unsure, felt unprepared, like she was about to turn out not right for him, not fitted for his fantasy. It was an awful feeling.

“Do you want to change your mind?” his voice softer now. His eyes on the other hand not. He wanted her. Badly.

“No” she breathed, looking at him intensely. She wondered if her vastly beating heart could be the cause of her immediate death.

He was patiently kneeling in front of her, gazing up at her with his lovely and sparkly boyish eyes for goodness sake.

“Then relax” he murmured, his fingers still gently drawing lines down and up her calf “I want you to enjoy it”

Part of her wanted to look the other way, yet bigger part wanted to observe him while she opened her legs for him. Breath stuck in her throat when the intensity of this moment hit her momentarily.

“More” he rasped and she groaned softly, looking into his eyes that turned darker and darker by every second.

“Like that?” she asked weakly, her hands desperately clutching the sheets behind her, she was burning.

He liked the way she asked the question, he hummed and smiled at her, before lowering his head to place a kiss on the inside of her thigh. She took a big breath in.

“As much as I would love to hear you, I must ask you to be quiet” she almost whined hearing his low voice, but did her best to nod in agreement.

This time he granted her his mercy, not prolonging it much, maybe because he grew impatient to finally have her. While his hands securely held her open for him, his mouth found it’s way to her cunt. It seemed to happen very suddenly, her hips jerked uncontrollably and she gasped at the contact. Softly and gently he begun to pleasure her, she could sense that he was watching her, but could not find the confidence to meet his gaze. His hand squeezed her thigh, putting it up to let it rest on his shoulder. His tongue pressing surer against her, while his lips were delicate in their caress. She gasped and jerked up once more. Everything felt wet, his mouth hot against her, his tongue precise. Very unexpectedly he groaned against her, and it stunned her significantly, making her body tense and her eyes shot open. A sharp gasp that left her met a little moan, it sounded out like a hiccup.

“Why don’t you look at me, darling?” he murmured and she swallowed hard.

She was familiar with Kylian’s domineering attitude and quite stout ego, she always imagined it’s influence on his sex life. He was being considerate enough with her now, she wondered what will happen once he finish restraining himself. Chills ran down her spine. She yearned to experience it all. So she directed her gaze lower and the look in his eyes was shattering and overwhelming, so hot, she moaned out loud shamelessly, her right hand quickly shot up to cover her mouth. That’s when he chuckled and that’s when she simply could not stop everything that came next. It was quicker than she suspected. Too weak to keep herself up, she fell on her back, both of her legs now wrapped around his head, her hands delicately grazing his hair as if trying to keep him close to her at all cost, but no pressure in her touch.

“Kylian” she breathed, too quiet “Ky…” he sucked on it now “Kylian” she whined, louder.

And it was too much. She had to clasp her hand over her mouth again, most of her cries muffled, but still prominent in the room. Her body moved on it’s own accord, her head rolling around almost spasmodically. She was feeling lighter now, with her eyes closed she could not really specify where she was. She could remember it was her room, and her bed, but her mind stopped registering it properly. There was nothing more then her flesh, her senses directed only to experience the ecstasy of the upcoming pinnacle, a burst of euphoria. She wasn’t even sure if she was still breathing, but could tell her chest was moving rapidly. As the first wave hit her, she almost choked on her own breath, as the second appeared she expected it to bring a few more that fades quickly and leaves her hazy and light. But shockingly there was more, and more, and more, and it felt like her soul started to leave her body. She could not keep up with it, she was not prepared for it. Was she making noises? Was she loud? Was her mouth covered? Did she pass out?

She felt the mattress bent next to her. Her eyes still closed. She could hear her breathing despite the ringing in her ears. She could feel her fingertips again, weakly moving against the sheets.

“Hey” a whisper, close to her ear, she leaned into it “Are you alright, love?” she smiled, it was a lovely voice, soothing and sweet.

“Mhm” she murmured and very slowly opened her eyes to look at him.

He looked different. And one look at him made something in her insides jump. She was back in her body.

“You need to rest”

“No” she opposed, her hand flying up to touch him. Delicate, as she grazed his lips with her fingertips.

“I think yes” he laughed.

“I think you just gave me two orgasms in one take. Or more, I am not even sure now” this seriously spoken sentence made him laugh again. His lips flexed under her touch “But I want you now”

A big intake of breath as he considered her plea. She was fine, she could take him, she was not drained or sleepy, simply astounded or even blown away. She felt bolder now, more determined when she rose on her elbows to reach him, pressing a kiss on his lips. He grew weaker when she kissed him like this, softly but surely, with her nails lightly scratching the skin on his chest. She took advantage of this moment and pressed on him, making him lay down on the bed. He seemed stunned when she sat up, on top of him, her hands already resting on the clasp of his belt. She could notice him swallow but there was another of his shameless smirk appearing on his lips.

“What’s so amusing?” she jested.

“Your persistence. I adore it” he sat up, his hand sneaking around her middle and before she could comprehend his intention, he simply grasped her, turning them so she laid on her back again.

She could start up a heated conversation about his own stubbornness at this point, but the idea started to quickly fade in her head as she watched him unbuckle the belt after he stood up. The intensity in his gaze was drawing her to him, she felt the same impatience once more. She reached for him desperately when he joined her, her legs already at either side of him, inviting him, keeping him in, close, closer. No pretence, no lies, no avoidance. Just them and nothing around to ruin it. At last. She only regretted that they made it harder for themselves to achieve it.

“Make love to me now” she hummed before kissing him.

#kylian mbappe imagine #mbappe imagine #football imagine #football fics #football imagines #kylian mbappe fic #kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe x reader

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sleep-0-deprived · 1 day ago

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im not sure if you are taking any requests rn but I NEED to see some male reader Shigaraki heavy, hurt no comfort, gut wrenching angst just cause there is barely any Shigaraki x male reader and barely any angst in general

(you can ignore this request if you want!!)

Things that your dad doesn’t know (Tomura shigaraki x male reader angst one-shot)

WC:. 1.6K

Tags: hurt not comfort, angst, internalized homophobia, past religious trauma, generational homophobia, unspoken feelings, religious AFO au

A/N: I have never written angst before, I have no clue if it’s any good but I think this is the only time I’m willingly trying to hurt my pookies! ໒꒰ྀི˃ ˕ ˂ഃ ꒱ྀི১

Being a villain wasn’t your first choice in life, in fact had you been told that’s what you would end up becoming ten years ago…well you would’ve been in shambles? After all your dream was to be a hero, to help those who needed it most and give comfort/security to those around you.

maybe that was just you wanting to be the person you wished was given to you but that doesn’t matter because it wasn’t who you became anyway. At the ripe age of fifteen you were a runaway, your parents had sent you off to a private academy in Japan. In reality it was just a fancy term for a boarding school for ‘troubled boys’ but those words tasted bitter because that place was just filled with naive boys questioning their sexuality.

That place left you filled with thoughts of things you’ve never worried about before, one moment you’re just a boy who has some silly crush in the boy next to you in class and the next you’re a thirteen year old being told the way you felt was ‘sinful’. You’d never forget the way your mom just stared at you blankly while your dad shouted at you “those thoughts aren’t normal boy, how’d you turn out like this?” God you’d give it all to forget those words, every remembrance of them felt like a puddle pulling you to the ground leaving you to wallow in shame.

By the time you were fourteen you started to fall for the words the headmasters of the school preached to you, you thought “if I could just deny it then it’ll go away” or if you didn’t accept it then it wasn’t there. By fifteen you knew you had to get out of there, you didn’t care how you had to do it but you felt an unwavering hate for yourself every second you stood in line for the daily mass at that place.

When you did finally escape you ended up on the streets, moving city to city across Japan, too afraid to head for the states out of fear for your parents getting you back. Then you met him, All For One was what he called himself, he found you in a dingy alley all littered in bruised and scars from the treatment you had endured from that school.

He took you in and gave you a place to live for as long as you did what he asked of you. He made you use your quirk for his own wants but you’d never tell him your past or where you came from because it was evident with his god complex that he wasn’t understanding, after all how could a man from his generation be.

Life wasn’t all bad, that was what you’d tell yourself but then you met Tomura, you two never clicked in the beginning. All he’d do is stare at you from afar and judge you, but you just accepted it because he was your leaders heir. Eventually by the age of seventeen the two of you had became friends, the league of villains was a new concept with barely five members

You didn’t know what you felt or how to feel it but all you knew was the days felt more bearable to live when he was there. When you two didn’t have tasks to fill or agendas to make you were teenage boys, you watched cheesy shows on his bed or video games in his room, energy drinks and late nights was the routine between you two and their was an unspoken blonde that came of it.

Eighteen rolled around for you and Tomura was nineteen by then, it felt like an extension of eighteen for you, nobody but Tomura even knew of your real birthday and maybe it was for the lack of care or the fact you never spoke to anyone besides AFO, Shigaraki and occasionally Kurogiri.

By this point you’ve realized that things aren’t totally platonic between the two of you but Tomura having spent his whole life enduring AFO’s standards and beliefs that he’s pushed onto him, he denies anything and everything. Tomura never had the most stable life to begin with even before he met AFO, his dad was the definition of a bigot, he looked down on him for not being manly enough, for crying when he got hit by him.

Tomura and you were closer than friends could be, the way you two held each other and cuddled in his bed at night, or spent free time locked away in your room away from the other’s gazes. But you were never truly together in the way you wanted to be, it was like being skin close with a thin barrier between keeping you two from fully touching.

The two of you liked being away in private the most, even with all of the denial in your head was better than the hurtful gaze AFO would give to Tomura when he was caught sitting too close to you in the bar. Over time it felt like you began to know Tomura less and less, the boy you once clung to like he was the air in your lungs became a man that hardly spoke to you unless it was about the leagues plans.

You were no fool you knew AFO had confronted and filled Tomura’s head with thoughts of how what he was doing was nothing less than “un-right” and those deep rooted memories of the past that always crept in when you least wanted found you again, reminding you of every word nailed into your mind on how you should feel in no regards for what you did feel.

All you wanted to do was run back to his room, to hug him and cling and not worry about everyone else but that wasn’t going to happen. You watch him become the second AFO knowing you can’t and do anything. Your once close relationship has a wedge in between, it was non existent and nothing you could say would make him accept you.

“What happened to our friendship Tomura?” You’d show up at his door late at night while the others were asleep, his blue hair gone and what looked back at you didn’t feel the same quiet man that used to be. “Nothing has happened, things change and people grow [name], you’re acting as though we were lovers.” You knew that he was only forcing his words but it never stung any less.

“No but we could’ve been Tomura” you manage to spit out, your voice cracks and your whole body feels like lava. “No we never could’ve, you’re a man [name] and no amount of emotions changes that”

“If I can’t be your lover why can’t we just be friends again tenko?”

You’re nearly to tears at this point standing in the entrance of his bedroom feeling your heart being squeezed.

“Because. Being close to you makes life hard, I can’t sit and pretend to be your friend when I know I won’t be the one that ends with you, and don’t call me that anymore, you’re just my subordinate…nothing else and you won’t ever be [name].”

There was the answer you knew would come, he pointed for his door clearly wanting you gone, and you quickly obliged in wanting of him seeing you break down. You hadn’t hurt this bad since you had first been sent off by your family, how were you supposed to be ok with this? Why did life have to be this way? Were you destined to always get close to what you love then have it slip away?

You had more pathetic questions than you did answers and the night was long, you weren’t sleeping anytime soon and you knew it. You’d rather have been his friend if you couldn’t be his lover, at least if you were his friend you’d still be something to him, you’d still be in his life, you’d still be the person he sat around and played video games with.

You were just doomed to a life of watching the person you love become unrecognizable. You and him had planned to stick together, he had promised you’d always be together, he always told you that you were the only person that understood him and now it was all gone.

When war against the hero’s began you couldn’t do anything to stop him. Your pleas fell on deaf ears, AFO was on his shoulder telling him every little move to make and what to do and his plan didn’t have you in it. You were forced to sit on the side lines unable to jump in when his final fight started, seeing his beaten form and his scared body broke you.

You had made Tomura your world, he was your reason to listen to AFO, if he did something then no matter how much it hurt you, you’d do it too. When Tomura started his fight against Midoriya, you were practically running to the fight trying to make way to him and trying to use your quirk to just stop it all.

You were three seconds too late. The final blow had been felt and you were right next to Tomura sobbing like a scared kid watching him decay away. All Tomura does is look up at you, red eyes glossy and you know he isn’t making it. “You can’t leave me Tenko! You just can’t!…you promised me?”

You’re hysteric when the police start dragging you away from his ash’s, you’re feeling your word shatter so fast knowing all the things you had planned won’t happen.

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kaithonks · 2 days ago

Text

So I’ve had some Thoughts about Jason Todd’s Robin

I guess you could say I’m still a little peeved about Robin lives, but it made me remember a story from a Class I took. I had the pleasure of getting to take a Comics and Graphic Narrative Class for my degree. The professor had a mind set to the class, in that he was not trying to show why comics are an art form, but how. Which meant we didn’t read Maus or Watchman, but we did read Heroes in Crisis. I do have thoughts about that, but that’s for another time. Any way, in class when we talk about Heroes in Crisis, Jason got briefly mentioned, with that someone mentioned his vote. And someone mention it was a landslide vote. I, of course, corrected that it was a very narrow margin of only 72 with some rumors of tampering. Which is about where I stopped myself, because it was getting too far from the original discussion. So I tried to circle the conversation back around, explain that,

“Yeah, I get a little carried away when Jason Todd comes up.”

The guy sitting next to me decided this was the time to say,

“No one cared about Jason Todd until he was the Red Hood.”

I realized now this was in jest, but my gut reaction was to tell him (a little louder than I meant) to “eat shit.”

I do regret saying that despite the laughs I got, and I did apologize to the class, though they told it was ok because “I was standing on business.” (The guy I told to 'eat shit' didn’t speak to me again till a like a month later, though)

So what’s my point with this funny little story? Well, I know I am coming from a biased perspective, but I still believe that there is some strong disregard for Jason’s Robin run, even among his fans.

He was only around for about 5 years, first appearing in 1983 and then ending with his death in 1988. Which is very short compared to Dick’s 40 plus year run as Robin, so really he wasn’t given time to be fleshed out in the same way. Some of Jason’s complaints at the time could have just been solved with time and not being written by someone who hated him, but that’s a recurring problem, it seems. Anyway, his death is a pretty pivotal moment in not only Batman's history but in comic history, so that can make his short run seem less important than how it ended. And what also doesn’t help is the almost instant back tracking on what Jason’s Robin run was really like.

So putting the Robins into boxes of happy, angry, smart, and girl is really regressive (Yes I'm looking at you Heroes in Crisis) as they are all their own characters beyond this very simple traits. They even overlap in places. And I’m saying this because I don’t think any one Robin was ‘the angry one.’ I think most of them as hurt kids who were using the identity of Robin to bring some light and levity, whether it being to themselves or to Batman. Or in a meta sense, that Robin is there for younger readers to relate to and bring a lighter tone to the story. And well in the 80s where Jason’s ran started comics were starting towards the darker gritty tone. I recommend people read “The Lives and Death of Robin: An Oral History of A DEATH IN THE FAMILY” By Joe Grunenwald to see a lot of the attitudes not only towards Jason, but Batman at the time. Jason came at a time when things were changing and well there wasn’t a desire on the editorial part to make Jason’s Robin work with what they want, because there was in incompatibility of what Robin was with the tone they wanted. And for all they claim that people hated Jason’s Robin, again the vote margin was very slim. And the published letters to the editor after, showed that kids of the time still claimed Jason as their Robin and were upset by his death. Beyond that, the Reddit thread r/comicbook had someone ask people about what they called for with Jason’s vote. There is quite a handful of people who admitted they didn’t think it would happen, so that's why they voted for his death. And of course there is a pretty vocal group saying they thought he was annoying, but in that they were also people who already loved Dick Grayson. He was their Robin. But as stated earlier, there are still those where Jason was their Robin, which is also in that thread.

Bringing it back, people definitely still cared about Jason when he was Robin. And even so many years later, I cared about Jason’s Robin. Jason’s post crisis Robin story is probably even more relatable today, with the growing of people barely able to scrape by.

Now many people point to The Diplomat's Son as a story where Jason’s character was whiny, and showed that “he’d eventually betray Batman”. But Jason through that story is trying to defend a woman who was sexually assaulted and was upset the man was going to get away. It’s always this I think of when people complain to me about Robin’s run. It also reminds me of in Under the Red Hood when Jason kills Captain Nazi. In my mind, it’s hard to frame these things as bad. Extreme? Yes, absolutely. But it speaks more to a character who was constantly failed, and faith in the system was broken. So the only way he saw to really help was to take it upon himself and make it permanent. Which when you consider Jason is only about 19-20 in Under the Red Hood. That’s heavy. But it’s only so heavy with the comparative of Jason’s Robin not completely having that faith broken and him having hope. If Jason’s Robin was also so extreme and angry, it makes the impact of Under the Red Hood, becomes almost nonexistence. It doesn’t mean anything if this is where Jason has always been, so neatly putting Jason as “always the angry Robin” and “always destined to betray Bruce’s morals” hurts his character.

Sometimes I feel that the people around Jason’s origins sort of stumbled into making a compelling character that wasn’t necessarily for them and don’t understand that, specially the way they talk about “my Batman”. They weren't the kids at the time of Jason’s Robin (maybe weren't really planing for young readers) and did a lot of blame shifting around Jason’s death. Which is strange to say the least, and this is where the back tracking on his run really starts. He didn't die because he just ignored Batman, but because he wanted to save his mother, who lied to him about the Joker. Still, they said after the fact, that “he didn't listen.” That isn't really what happened, it's an over simplification that's detrimental to their own story.

Now, a whole another conversation could be made about comic demographics and who Jason is for, past and present. But that’s getting a little too far from my point, that I feel to this day it's ignore that people did truly care about Jason’s Robin. People still do. Without Jason’s Robin, we wouldn’t have Tim’s Robin, or Steph’s or Damian’s. Jason is still an important character with in Batman, as Red Hood and as Robin. You can’t claim to love any later Robin run without paying respect to the fact Dick set it up, Robin, and Jason was his first successor. His death does overshadow a lot, even if it wasn’t permanent. And you can’t say you like the Red Hood without respect Jason’s time as Robin and how he’s changed. So Yeah. Jason Todd, Robin, is influential and shouldn’t be so easily dismissed.

#dc comics #jason todd #red hood #I am a very biased person #But I still don't think any Jason gets the critical discussion he deserves #And yea I'm still peeved about robin lives

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cal-daisies-and-briars · 2 days ago

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Magic AU? HoH Buck? That is very much up my very specific alley give me those trees

🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲

And as always by beloved triangles

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼

YAY! Okay let's gooooooo.

135 or 1k for 🌲 (whatever I hit first):

---

It’s the right thing to do, as much as it’ll suck to be single again, for the logistics of it all. As much as it’ll suck to hurt another lovely, good woman who likes him more than he can bring himself to like them back. He plans to do it over dinner one week in September.

And then he overhears Bobby and Buck chatting one day in the fire station kitchen.

“I think I could really love her,” Buck is saying. “Like, I’m not there yet. But I could be? Like, soon.”

“Isn’t the difference between loving someone and imagining you could love someone idealization?” Bobby asks.

“Wait… Are you saying I do already love her?” Buck replies.

“I…” Bobby sighs. “Whatever you feel is what you feel, Buck.”

“You’re right. Maybe I do already love her.”

In completely unrelated news, Eddie decides not to break up with Marisol. It seems unfair to throw in the towel on someone really great because of unrelated family stress.

2024

Eddie’s hollow back nightmares start back up again the first time he sees Kim. Literally, the night after he passes by her shop on the Promenade.

He should have taken that as a clear sign.

For almost a year, all his nightmares have been focused on his sister. Maybe a few helicopter related and Catholic school related oddities after the cruise ship and discovering Marisol’s former life, but… None of his usual torment. Until he glances upon Kim. A veritable clone of Shannon. Alive and breathing and so much like her in so many ways.

Eddie should have steered clear. Not given into the temptation of revisiting something he has lost. Not let his grief rule him.

But he doesn’t.

He’s stupid and selfish and shortsighted. He ruins his life over a few stolen hours with the not-real version of a woman he loved and lost.

Now his son is gone and he’s entirely alone and all he has is the promise that when he goes to bed, each and every night, he will dream of something horrible. Because once it starts, right after seeing Kim, it never, ever stops. Every time Eddie manages to sleep, he has the same nightmares.

vi.

The call on Christopher’s fourteenth birthday goes much like all their other calls. By which, Eddie means, he is still locked in some sort of war of attrition with his son and his mother, who won’t really give them any space. It’s been like that since the day she showed up on his doorstep with his father and took Chris to El Paso.

She’s always around when Eddie calls. Whether on screen or lurking somewhere off camera, Eddie and Chris never really get a moment alone to talk. And, okay. Eddie gets that it’s not her fault Chris is mad at him. He did that all on his own. But for someone who says she just wants to help Chris through a difficult time, she seems to also kind of be intent on keeping him in it. If Eddie tries to talk to Chris about any of the issues between them, she stops him. If Chris starts to open up, Helena suddenly has dinner or something else planned and the calls needs to end. And sometimes… Well, sometimes - and it’s probably crazy - Eddie feels like there’s a haze in Christopher’s eyes that comes over him when she speaks to him.

Sometimes Eddie is certain he must be reading too much into things. Looking for an adversary where there is none, so he doesn’t have to carry the full weight of his blame. But he does. None of this would be happening if Eddie hadn’t fucked up to begin with. Only… Only shouldn’t his own mother be trying to help him mend the damage? It doesn’t feel like she is.

Part of Eddie can empathize with her, he supposes. He left years ago. Sophia doesn’t talk to her. Adriana is still… Gone. Though, Helena has hardly done anything to change that. Nevertheless, she’s a mother of three with no children around. Eddie knows there’s a deep sadness to her. Maybe one that having Christopher around has lessened. But Eddie still doesn’t get why she would want to have the same pain unloaded onto him. He wants his child home, too. How much sadness is he supposed to live with as the price for his mistakes?

Buck finds Eddie in the kitchen after the miserable little party Zoom call ends. Tommy is still in the living room. Eddie had turned the TV on pretty quickly after the call ended, so neither Buck nor Tommy could ask any questions. Well, Tommy would ask. Buck would just offer words of encouragement. Maybe some genuinely good advice, too. Eddie can’t deal with that right now. And honestly? He doesn’t want to deal with it in front of Tommy anyway. The guy has been getting on his nerves lately. Eddie doesn’t know why. He hasn’t changed or anything. Maybe Eddie has.

So Eddie starts taking the cupcakes he’d bought and moving them to containers to put in the fridge. A task to focus on so he doesn’t have to focus on the fact that he hardly spoke to his son on his fourteenth birthday.

“Hey,” Buck says quietly when he approaches him.

“Don’t want to talk about.”

Eddie shuts it down before it can even start.

“Okay,” Buck says. “Uh, can I help clean up?”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to help, Eddie.”

“You can’t help,” Eddie snaps. A little unnecessarily, considering they were pretending to talk about pathetic party decorations. “This isn’t something you can fix. Not this time.”

Buck nods. “I know that.”

His voice is quiet. Sad.

---

180 or 1k for 🔼:

---

“And he’s pretty damn special,” Shannon says.

“He is,” Eddie nods.

“So go fix it with him,” Shannon practically orders. “Forgive him for the choices he’s made out of pain.”

Eddie looks at her for a long moment. She wants to push him out the truck door in urgency until she remembers it’s his truck and he will need it. Go now, she wants to say. It doesn’t have to be too late, this time.

“Okay,” he says, as if hearing her thoughts. “Okay, I will.”

▶️

Eddie isn’t going to tell Buck how he feels about him.

That’s not the point. That honestly doesn’t even seem productive, right now. What he’s going to do is put a stop to this. Whatever misguided, pained attempt Buck is making. He’ll hear him out, and he’ll end it. Reassure him. Instead of getting angry and sticking to his guns, he’ll take Shannon’s approach. He trusts her on this one, he thinks.

He thinks a lot about what she said back in the parking lot was right. It makes him want to be better. If that’s an option.

He drives straight from Shannon’s to Buck’s. He doesn’t have a whole lot of time before he needs to pick up Chris, but maybe all he needs is a start. To get his foot in the door and get Buck thinking. He doesn’t call or text ahead of time. He’s fairly confident Buck is home. He’s not actively working in the midst of his suit, and after how this morning went? Eddie imagines he’s home alone, feeling awkward. He may have been fuming when he saw him at arbitration, but he could tell well enough from the look on Buck’s face that Buck wasn’t happy either.

Eddie pounds on Buck’s door. His frustration and day of heightened emotions is evident in the cadence of his fist against the painted steel.

“Buck!” He calls out.

He sounds a little deranged. Like he’s coming around to settle a seedy debt or something.

Buck opens the door maybe a minute later, looking sort of pale with apprehension.

“Uh, hey-hey, Eddie,” he stammers. “Um… We’re not supposed to-”

“I don’t care,” Eddie cuts him off. “I don’t care about the rules of the lawsuit, Buck. I need to talk to you.”

Buck’s face warps with concern. “Uh, o-okay. Are you okay? Are Shannon and Chris okay?”

“Can I come in?” Eddie asks. A non-answer.

Buck nods, looking even more worried. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

He widens the doorway for Eddie to walk through. They walk a few paces into the loft, and the door swings shut behind Eddie.

“Seriously,” Buck asks. “Is everyone okay?”

“Shannon and Chris are fine,” Eddie says. “The baby is fine.”

“Okay,” Buck replies. “Okay, good.”

“I’m not fine,” Eddie says. Something that takes more than he was expecting out of him, just to say. He’s not used to saying it. Admitting it. Even if it’s true.

“Wh-what’s going on?” Buck asks.

Eddie takes a deep breath.

“This whole lawsuit…” He starts. “It… It’s pissing me off, Buck. I get that you’re going through something right now. But I’m… It hurts me that… That you’d just do something to sever contact between us without even… I mean, you didn’t even give me a heads up or ask for my opinion.”

Buck chews on his lip for a second, processing.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he says. “I should have given you a heads up. I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t have done it at all,” Eddie bites back.

And, okay. Not good. Not the point. Not what Shannon was trying to tell him. But… It’s out there now.

Buck flinches a little. “I’m doing what I have to do, Eddie.”

“No,” Eddie shakes his head. “You aren’t. Because you would have come back eventually, and now this is all going to go sideways, and you won’t be allowed back.”

Buck shakes his head. “No. No, that’s not true.”

“It is, Buck,” Eddie insists. “In what world do you think you get to come back to the 118 all hunky dory after this?”

“You don’t understand,” Buck replies, guttural and frustrated.

“No? Then tell me!” Eddie raises his voice.

“I…” Buck’s voice wavers. “I…”

“What?” Eddie demands.

“I can’t go back to being alone!” Buck shouts.

Eddie blinks. What the hell is he talking about? He’s not alone!

“Why would you be alone?” Eddie asks, maybe not as gently as he ought to. “You have all these people who care so much about you. Who were fucking terrified the past three times you almost died in the last six months. Why would you be alone, Buck? Just because you’re not on active duty?”

“Because…” Buck makes a struggled, frustrated noise. “Because that’s why. That’s why people care, Eddie.”

Eddie furrows his eyebrows. “You think we all only care about you because you’re a firefighter?”

That’s honestly… Well, Eddie can’t tell if it’s heartbreaking or insulting.

Buck crosses his arms. Like he’s physically holding himself together.

“Maybe not consciously,” he says, voice lower.

“But you do think that?” Eddie says. “You really think that’s the truth?”

“Maybe not being a firefighter, but-but the person I am when I am a firefighter. I never… I never mattered before,” Buck says. “No one gave a shit about me before hand, Eddie. You don’t know what that’s like.”

Eddie frowns. He feels a little cold.

“What are you talking about?”

How could that be true? Even if all the people he’s close to now are from this chapter of his life, what about Maddie? They’re so close. Eddie saw how much she loves him first hand all the times he’s been in danger. She adores him. How could he think that she didn’t until two years ago?

“Before…” Buck takes a deep breath. “Before I came to Los Angeles, I was completely alone. For five years. I didn’t have anyone. I didn’t have a-a home. It was just me and the Jeep and no one… No one stayed in touch. I wrote to Maddie, but she didn’t… She sent me away, and I… No one wanted me around long. I was nothing. I didn’t matter.”

#daisies and briars writes #buddie shannon throuple fic #firelight fic

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goldenboywrites · 3 days ago

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Oliver wasn’t surprised that Cassio didn’t immediately believe him. It was so rare that he knew something about Apollo before Cass, but he knew he was right. He knew Orion wouldn’t lie about this. While he didn’t have the whole story, Oliver had seen the look on his brother’s face as he explained a spell to Apollo. “Don’t be all pouty when you realize I was right,” Oliver mumbled against the side of Cass’ mouth, pecking kisses along any inch of warm skin he could find before the blonde pulled away and left the comfort of his bed—knowing such huge information before Cass was a thrill if he was honest. His friendship with Apollo, while it had never bothered him, had been quite the thing to navigate throughout the start of their relationship.

After Cassio freshened up and they exited the bedroom, Oliver went about gathering the bags he had brought in from his little shopping spree. According to Orion, Apollo and Isaac’s new son was in the toddler-ish stage, so he got…well, pretty much one of everything. He would be the best uncle ever because Merlin knew when any of his useless brothers would give him a niece or nephew. Cassio went to his phone, unlocking it and frowning at the screen. Oliver knew that look; it meant Apollo hadn’t texted him. “We’ll see them in a couple of minutes,” He said, arms loaded with bags of goodies. “You’ll have to apparate us.” Oliver felt arms wrapped around him, and then they were off.

They appeared moments later in Apollo and Isaac’s home.

“She’s just our neighbor,” Theo explained exasperatedly, as if Isaac was silly for not knowing this information already. “When I can’t come here, she watches me for me..” He shrugged and went back to his plate. Apollo studied the boy, noting that he adapted Isaac’s accent for some words, but that could have just been him idolizing the man he thought was a father figure to him. Theo opened his mouth to continue, but Apollo held up a hand after he heard a distant pop of someone’s apparition in the living room. Very few people had access to their home. He knew his twin wouldn’t come without calling first. Given who he had called earlier, Apollo knew who it was.

He glanced at Isaac, sighed heavily, and resisted the urge to slam his head against the table. A concussion would be preferred over dealing with Oliver right now. However, while he was strongly displeased at Oliver's unannounced arrival at their home, it would help them get more information regarding Theodore. Would he recognize Oliver and Cassio? Would he have fabricated memories of them as well? “Theodore,” Apollo called out before he heard a grating voice call out, ‘Hellooooo.’ The boy looked up at Apollo, waiting for him to speak again. He would take the risk. “I think your uncles are here.” Then he held his breath, waiting.

The biggest grin broke out on the boy’s face as he pushed his chair back from the table and ran into the living room, screaming at the top of his lungs, “Uncle Ollie!!” Apollo turned to Isaac, his mouth hanging open. “What the fuck,” He muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but he was. Theodore’s entire life had been built on false memories that extended to their friends. It was enough of a distraction to make him forget that he was pissed about Orion’s betrayal. “Orion must have told them,” He said to Isaac; for some odd reason, he felt the need to throw out there that he hadn’t called Cassio about this. “I’m going to kill Oliver.”

Apollo stood up from the seat, his meal untouched, and walked into the living room. As he entered, he saw Theodore trying to wrap both arms around Oliver and Cassio in a hug. His gaze met Cassio’s immediately, and Apollo didn’t have the words to explain, not like he could in front of Theodore anyway. “What did you do to Orion?” He asked, turning to look at Oliver, his hands on his hips. “Because I know he wouldn’t give up my information freely.”

Oliver ruffled Theo’s hair before sheepishly glancing up at Apollo. “First of all, it’s rude that we weren’t the first told..”

“Told what?” Theodore asked, looking up at Oliver with the biggest smile.

Oliver continued without answering Theodore. “And second of all, I beat him up, and it was easy because he’s a little bitch.” Theo giggled and tugged on Oliver’s arm, muttering ‘That’s a bad word’ under his breath. “I mean, he’s a little witch.” Theodore giggled again and moved from them, starting to rummage through the bags at Oliver’s feet. “All of these bags are for you.”

Apollo sighed but didn’t comment on it. It saved him a trip to the store. “Theo, why don’t you look through those while we talk to your uncles in the kitchen.”

As they moved into the kitchen, Apollo reached for Isaac’s hand, slotting their fingers together and giving him a squeeze of comfort. He turned around when Cassio and Oliver followed them in, stepping back into the vicinity of Isaac’s warmth. “I don’t know where to begin. I got a call to come to Mungos, and he was there waiting for me. Alexandria is his mum, and she’s been AWOL for days. The hospital has it on file that I’m listed as his father and the emergency contact, but I haven’t met that kid before. He knows all of us as if he’s been in our lives forever. I didn’t even know she had a kid. I haven’t seen her since uni. I called Orion to see if there was a way to look at memories and see if there were traces of altering magic in them because it doesn’t make sense how he has memories of being here, playing with Milo, and being with Isaac and me. Now, it’s confirmed he’s also familiar with the two of you. So now that you’re all caught up, are you here to help or just to make it even more of a difficult night?”

Apollo inhaled sharply and shook his head. He hadn’t meant it like that, but his nerves were fucking fried to shit, and he was so fucking tired. “I didn’t mean…” He started and then stopped, momentarily focusing on breathing until he felt more solid and grounded. “I didn’t mean it to sound the way it sounded.” Apollo couldn’t bring himself to apologize, so that was the closest he could get to it. “I don’t know what the fuck to do with a kid.”

Of everything Oliver had ever done or said in their years together, this was truly one that left him completely speechless. He hadn't the slightest idea what the hell his boyfriend was talking about and all he could do was look at him in wonder. Perhaps that nap had been better than he thought. But he wasn't anywhere else but their bed and so he started to let what he was saying sink in and his brow scrunched in frustration. He thought to reach for his phone but remembered it was out in the living area and instead he thought to give in to this crazy notion. "First," He started, reaching up to kiss Oliver softly for just a moment. It felt nice to have his warmth on him as he was. His muscles felt sore from early practice.

"Second, there is no way in hell that Apollo adopted any sort of child. I'm surprise they've managed to keep Milo alive this long." He sighed, his hands slowly drifting up the other's back and he let a lazy smile drift on his lips. "I think that's more due to Isaac than Apollo in all fairness." His leg slipped up and he hooked it around Oliver's back, moving them on to their sides so he could get a better look and position. Cass slid on to his elbow and looked with a softness only Oliver had been able to pull out of him. "But a child? Absolutely not. Orion had to have heard it wrong. Or maybe it's some kind of work Apollo's doing." There wasn't any thought that he could come up with that would explain away a child. And that worried him.

He looked between the two of them and then the door, deciding that maybe he'd better just check in on this one. "But ..." He trailed off as he stretched out, leaning back and letting a few of his vertebrae crack and he sighed happily at the alleviation. "It has been a while since we've gone to see them. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to see what they're all up to." He was itching to get up and go see if Apollo had sent some king of explanation, if there were to be one about this. But the other part enjoyed having Oliver next to him. He sighed and tucked in to kiss him gently. "You owe me some quiet time later." Cass smiled against his lips and slowly pulled back. "Or some not so quiet time. Come on." He untangled himself and slowly got up from their bed. "You can show me this maybe nephew."

__________________________________________

Isaac sat very still for what felt like eons. This whole thing had not been fun. The smile he wore to keep the small human from finding out what Apollo was doing, and what he had allowed. But as he felt the small fingers grazing his skin, all he could think was how terrible all of this had been. Is he sick? His eyes trained on the boys and Isaac breathed out so slowly. He didn't know the implications of what would happen with the potion and his magick or his Theo had even had enough for it to matter but nonetheless, he kept calm.

"I thin' he's jus' worried abou' ya ma." He told him very plainly because it was clear that this boy did not understand what adult motives put him in danger. Isaac smiled warmly and placed his own hand over the boy's, squeezing gently. He thought better than to take the touch away, make him feel unwanted because that was not true. What? "Maybe ya can tell us abou' erm .. wha' was her name? Mrs. W?" He squeezed one more time and let go to give him another pancake from the leftover stack. Another pat of butter on top and he handed the syrup back to Theo with a smile.

Isaac stole a look over at Apollo to reassure him they were okay. "You seem li'e ya see Mrs. W a lo'. Is she one o' ya ma's friends maybe?" He watched as the little boy took another bite and he leaned back into his own chair, sliding his hand into Apollo's and squeezing tightly. If only he knew the strength that Apollo gave him just by being. "I don' thin' tha' we know her a' all. A' leas' I do no' thin' we do." He glanced at over at him and shrugged, drawing up absolutely nothing one a name that could possibly fit.

#where do we go from here?

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fujii-draws · 7 months ago

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OKAY! Chatot rant in tags below! Read at your own discretion.

#okay starting from the beginning of where ppl usually dislike him. apple woods chapter.#he doesn’t give hero/partner the CHANCE to explain themselves despite them being relatively good recruits up until that point.#and that legit might be my only gripe with that chapter bc!!! stories need conflict! I LIKE the conflict in apple woods!!!#hero and partner being punished so something they didn’t do!#the misunderstanding! how team skull (Skuntank) actually outplays the main duo with a clever yet rotten trick. I LOVE that it segways into-#one of the more sweeter scenes of guild members looking out for eachother. I LIKE APPLE WOODS CONFLICT.#but chatot just. not giving them a chance. is so dumb.#I’d personally fix this by having a lil montage of hero/partner fucking up on jobs. A LOT. and chatot giving them a pass every time.#and let the perfect apple incident BE the one where he puts his foot down and doesn’t listen to them. bc he’d given them loads of chances.#and doesn’t want to hear any excuse.#but yeah. I legit dont mind him during that chapter except for that really stupid and frustrating moment.#NOW. CHAPTER 17.#UGGGGHHH WHERE DO I BEGIN #Him not believing hero and Partner about Grovyle and the future being in ruin? FINE. ACTUALLY GOOD. BC CHATOT WOULD BE SKEPTIC.#IT FITS HIS CHARACTER!!#BUT WHAT DOES SUCK. IS HIM GOING ‘Dusknoir isn’t the bad guy. he didn’t do anything wrong’#WHEN HE LITERALLY KIDNAPPED HERO AND PARTNER RIGHT I N F R O N T OF HIM.#(NO LITERALLY. HIS CHARACTER IS IN THE FRONT ROW WHEN IT HAPPENED.)#and him. having the GALL to tell hero and partner they must’ve been ‘seeing things’ and downplaying the HELL they went through.#despite them being missing for hours/days. his own guild recruits. and his angry sprite showing up.#like. I think that’s when I genuinely despised him.#that and him going ‘OH I BELIEVED YOU THE WHOLE TIME HEEHOO :)’ shit was so fucking annoying.#just playing it off as a joke the second the guild started to believe hero and partner.#IMAGINE IF HE W A S ACTUALLY TESTING THE GUILD’S TRUST. SHOWCASING HIM AS THE MORE RESPONSIBLE AND RESPECTFUL RIGHT HAND OF THE GUILD.#and yes. Brine cave he saves hero and partner. but at that point I just didn’t care anymore.#he fucked those two over so much. that I didn’t care what ‘valiant’ sacrifice he had.#and he grills Team Skull for what they did OFF SCREEN. they couldn’t even give us THAT.#<<< THAT or him outright saying sorry would’ve been nice. IKIK his ‘actions’ or whatever but.#eughh again this is all imo. I’m not trying to make people hate him or change their mind.#I’ll get into positives in the second post cause I’m running out of tags

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dorkorder · 1 year ago

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#bandido #edits #at any given moment I’m just thinking about him tbh #i miss him already get well soon 😭

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raionmimi · 2 months ago

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I love that the “There’s only one bed” trope for Symweaver would just be a normal day for them that they don’t even think twice about it. They’d sleep in each other’s beds in their dorm as students whenever they felt like it and still do the same on the Arcology. They’re at complete ease in each other’s presence that they never really thought to make it a big deal

The only differences are that Niran cuddles her a lot more because he likes how it’s a different vibe to intentionally snuggle somewhere away from home, and Satya studies his face a lot more because the environment isn’t the same and it’s comforting that he’s a universal constant to her

#symmetra #lifeweaver #symweaver #satya vaswani #niran pruksamanee #overwatch #Overwatch 2 #she was probably uneasy about sleeping at the Arcology for a long time and would just constantly stare at him so he knew she was still wary #and he’d be thrilled the second he noticed she didn’t need to watch him anymore because she was so used to being there #she just vibes near him unless he asks if they can snug #he usually doesn’t sleep until ungodly hours but he does enjoy coming to bed and seeing satya sleeping there already #it makes him adore her even more every single time #he hates going to bed by himself so as long as he knows she’s in the room somewhere even if it’s not the same bed he feels comfortable #also I think Satya should be the hot one and he leeches off of her warmth because it’s funny that way #she likes how cool he feels so she doesn’t mind him clinging to her when they cuddle #I bet they’re disgusting to be around because they won’t get up if you accidentally walk in on them #Suraj is probably their number one hater from anytime he walked in on them being grossly lovey dovey at any given moment #I’m tired and laying in a hotel room at an anime con rn so I’m having eepy cozy thoughts rn

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hp-lonesome-actual-art · 3 months ago

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Another batch or Mr. Puzzles quick sketches. I kept forgetting to draw his side pocket in the last couple ones. Random character featured in the little comic-ish Live Interview is some version of doodlesona. Can’t guarantee the dialogue will be believable/sound in character for Puzzles because honestly I’m still working on understanding his talking style and when he sarcastically jokes around or when he chooses to be serious and drop performance act. But in the off chance you wanna read it goes from left to right with reading

#GUYS it’s so hard drawing a character who uses his hands to communicate 24/7 jksjsksp PLEASE #my brain doesn’t know what pose to put him at any given time because he keeps SWITCHING inbetween words #he’s so animated and that’s why I love him so much expression and emotion in display #but I don’t like drawing hands at any given time if I can avoid it so screw him jskjso #the last two pages I think I’ve started to get a hang of how his expressions operate #still need to see if I can pull off the full range in my own style tho #and yes I inserted my silly doodle sona in the interview segment hello wazzup lol #although it’s very much a caricature because in reality I have no issues being on film. Been doing that since I was a toddler it’s natural #was even in a production class in high school operating camera equipment like I honestly love it #speaking of that art…still trying my best to figure out how his dialogue is meant to sound?#like I’ve always struggled with writing character dialogue I’m unfamiliar with the style of #thing is I’m good at acting the part if you give me a script to follow and example of tone inflections #but writing it from scratch is a whole nother struggle #so I’m sorry if it doesn’t feel on point I’ll try to get better at analyzing his speech patterns #honestly think I made it too formal sounding here? Or jumbled in some parts because I was stumped on how he’d translate thoughts to words #still fun interaction tho!#like I think he’d try his best to drop a few moments of empathy and try to get someone with anxiety to feel comfortable #but he’s also got the ratings to worry about and can’t afford it being ruined by someone’s anxiety hiccup #so kinda treading the line of being compassionate and giving advice to calm them v.s impatience to get the show rolling #or something idk still trying to analyze him and how he reacts to given circumstances #can you tell I think way too deeply about all this trivial stuff?#doodles #sketches

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myfriendtheghost · 2 years ago

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hello katie!!! i hope you have a super duper happy new year!!! i’m so thankful that you were part of my 2022! also i really hope that in 2023 you get to give josh kiszka a big ole smooch on the lips lol <333 love ya!!

MAL MY BABY MY LOVE MY DEAR !!! I’m so thankful u were part of my year too !! I, too, hope for a big ole smooch on the lips from Joshua this year 🫡 LOVE U RIGHT BACK 🥹🫶🏻🤍

#the way I posted that ask saying all I want is to smooch josh and then saw this LMAO HOW DID U KNOW I WAS THINKING ABT KISSING HIM #(jk I’m thinking about kissing him at any given moment)#<333 #asks #mountain-in-springtime

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beastimusprojects · 16 hours ago

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Chapter 16: Falling together

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“He shouldn’t be alive, but he is. Thank goodness I caught him, but no one should be able to survive a drop from that height.” Hywel gradually came to as the woman standing over him spoke.

“How am I still alive?”

“Well, that’s what we were wondering, you got hit a bunch by the glowy lady with the wings, but somehow you killed her about three or four miles up and managed to survive the fall.”

Hywel sat up, his head hurt, and the world was spinning a little, everything was really bright.

Devil energy, it’ll wear off as you digest it.

Oh, that explains it.

“You’re also horribly emaciated, we got you some stuff to eat, you know, as a thank you for saving… well probably everyone.”

Hywel realized that he had been moved and was now sitting on the deck of a large ship, but he was hungry, and so he asked no questions before accepting and slurping down the bowl of soup he was given.

Another woman came up to him, he recognized her as the one Karol had attacked, she was absolutely covered in scars.

“What did she do to you?”

“Not much, don’t worry, I’ve had most of these for a long time. Though, I’d be a lot worse if you hadn’t come at that exact moment.”

“Are you the one she told me about? Phoenix, I think she said?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“I’m sorry for what you went through, I should have realized that Karol was bad news earlier.”

“If you don’t mind, can you explain what was going on there? You killed her somehow, no one could see, but she absolutely bodied the best of the hunters.” Phoenix pointed to where Orwen was still lying unconscious.

“Demon. She had a Devil; I sucked the life right out of her.” Hywel hung his head between his knees.

“Wow.” Phoenix was oblivious to Hywel’s shame, only in awe of his power. “Just think of what you can do with that kind of power.” She said, almost whispering.

“But also, what you have to do to get it.” “It’s not worth becoming a monster.”

“I don’t know, people usually leave monsters alone, if I had what you have…” she trailed off.

“I should leave, thank you for your hospitality, but I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“You can’t, you saved the lives of literally half the people on this ship, you can stay for as long as you want.”

“Well, but I have somewhere to be.”

“Where are you going that can’t wait for you to rest for a few hours?”

“Core, something bad is going to happen there, pretty soon.”

“That’s where we’re going to, you can come with us, you need a ship anyway to get there in any reasonable time.” “Unless demons also give you super-fast speed.”

“Are you sure, you don’t mind traveling with the vessel of a demon?”

“You are still not the most dangerous person I’m traveling with.”

“I severely doubt that.”

“Well, like I said, that guy over there is the most skilled hunter alive, and he currently is on a mission to bring me back to Hunter headquarters.”

“Wait, is that Orwen Desinor?” “Are you just randomly traveling with Orwen Desinor?”

“Yeah, and the disgraced crown prince of Levias.”

“”

“Yeah, you coming with us really doesn’t add much danger factor to this.”

“Ok, we’ll get to the Levias thing in a minute, but, why are you traveling with Orwen Desinor if he has a contract on you. I used to be a Seeker, that guy killed Scout! Scout, like it was nothing!”

Phoenix shrugged “I suspect I am neither as dispassionate nor as tactically minded as I would like to believe.” “So, what do you say?”

“Ok, I hope I do not live to regret this.”

“Excellent, let’s give you a tour of the ship.”

______________________________________________________________

@brokendarkfairyempressforever

@hijabi-flavored-nerd

@betanian117

This chapter is short

New post for the Phoenix Story:

Up to chapter 12:

CW for some Suicidal Ideation, General Angst, Mild Body horror, and as of now, one instance of the f-word.

Chapter 1: A Beautiful Night

______________________________________________________________

Phoenix finally relaxed.

As she watched the moon slide over the sun, she relished in the fact that she was now, truly, wonderfully alone. Alone, more than anyone else had probably been in a long, long time. There are, of course, ways to be alone not requiring physical distance, and ways of being together that overcome any distance. But it had been a decade since Phoenix had truly experienced togetherness in any of those ways, and the physical isolation was as absolute as she could imagine it. There was no one within 30 miles of where she sat, on an island that no one knew existed on the edge of where life in the sky had penetrated. No one could get there, the navigational skills required were immense and rare, even in such far-flung places as this.

By all rights, trying to get to Phoenix in that moment would be like trying to contact the spirits of the dead.

It was good to be alone, for it was only in this isolation, which, she imagined, would be for some soul-crushing, that she was finally safe. For the first time in a long time, a decade, exactly in fact (she had felt her 17th birthday as she stepped onto the island,) she was safe. At that thought, a wave of, not happiness, but certainly peace washed over her.

She knew it wouldn’t last, in two hours her first scar would twinge, and that would bring back memories of the worst time in her life. And she couldn’t sustain the aloneness, if only for purely practical reasons. But she would enjoy it for now.

She looked up and saw that the moon had finished its arc, leaving only the corona of the sun visible. As the night songbirds started to sing, Phoenix went to find a place to sleep for the first night in a new chapter of her life.

And what a beautiful night it would be.

______________________________________________________________

It was of course a beautiful night, but Orwen didn’t see much of it, despite his perch on the roof of the headquarters of The Hunters. He did not admire the beauty of the stars or the reflection of the ring of fire in the lake, but rather stared into a handheld mirror, running a finger along his scar.

The scar should have been a thing of beauty, it was a perfect Hunter’s Mark, a thin but bright slash from the inside of his left eye to the right corner of his mouth. By conventional wisdom, he should have been grateful, the mark was only supposed to fall on the greatest hunters.

But to him, it only reminded him of his greatest failure. Six months tomorrow. Six months since he had fought the hardest fight of his life. Six months since the first time he thought he might die. Six months since he’d fought and killed the greatest of the Seekers, but that had not been what gave him the scar.

He was the Nitehawk, the greatest hunter of all time, but a lowlife thief had not only beaten him, she’d marked him.

“You mean nothing,” he told himself he was talking to the scar, “until I find her.”

He was not there in the morning.

______________________________________________________________

“Not so fast Dere! I can see you.”

As the figure ran along the wall, Hywel knocked an arrow.

“Not leaving on my watch!”

He let the arrow fly. It didn’t strike the figure, but it didn’t need to, because Hywel quickly Stepped, and was up on the wall, arrow gripped in his right hand. His left was soon gripping the figure’s coat, which slowly shifted back into its more natural catlike form.

“Would you believe I was just out for a walk? It’s a very nice night!” Dere exclaimed.

“No, I don’t believe the words of demons, especially not ones who I catch escaping.” Dere was always unpleasant to deal with. “And now of all times we can’t afford to give you an inch. Not with Scout dead.” Their leader had been killed 6 months prior, and morale had been severely sapped since. The Seekers, and by extension the Alliance of the Sky, had been losing ground fast ever since. They’d already lost control of Nerestar and Dorsinli.

Hywel wasn’t worried they’d lose the war anytime soon, but it didn’t look good for his chances of ever leaving this post.

As Hywel carried the wretched thing inside, it displayed an array of strategies to avoid its inevitable return to imprisonment. First it pretended to be cute and demure, then it scratched futilely at Hywel’s thick gloves, screaming obscenities that hadn’t been heard by mortal ears in centuries, then it whispered in his ears with that terrible voice, promises of power and wealth. Lies, of course, though, weighed against the prospect of spending the next decade on post guarding the creature, Hywel had to admit to being tempted.

______________________________________________________________ Chapter 2: A wonderful morning.

Other than blackberries, the island seemed to be almost completely empty. It would be a lot of work to make the place habitable long term, and that would have to include several trips to somewhere habited. But a few trips to get some chickens and sheep and then Phoenix could probably stay here for a long time. Eventually, she would have to build a house, but she didn’t know where she’d get the materials for such a project.

Its kind of ironic, I guess. To make my fortress of solitude, I have to go to people.

I can wait a while though.

She worked to clear a patch out from the blackberries – fire made quick work of the bushes – more so to distract herself than anything else. She didn’t want to think about… well anything really, because everything would eventually trail back to the fact that she had to go to town. Town, where she might encounter someone who knew her and if she found someone who knew her there, that was the only way she could die.

Why do I always think about death?

Its irrational, no one will be there, because no one knows I’m here, that’s why I came here in the first place.

But in the back of her mind, a picture would not cease to form.

I hate you, Karol. She thought as she clapped her hands, burning away another blackberry bush.

______________________________________________________________

Orwen was known for being fast, but right now he was mostly just frustrated. He had tracked slippery prey before, but Phoenix Alkaryl was one of a kind. Six months of searching had seemed only to deepen her cover, and he could still only narrow her location to about a quarter of The Sky, a pitiful performance by any Hunter, let alone The Nitehawk.

Doesn’t matter how long it takes. I will find her.

He was pouring over a map (the mirror laid just north of Levias) as he sat on the 11:45 ferry from Nerestar and Dorsinli, a convenient service which, 6 months ago, he couldn’t have used. He was glad the Free Cities were winning the war, if for no other reason than it made his job easier. Phoenix couldn’t be anywhere in Alliance territory, ever since he had killed Scout of the Seekers, the Alliance had closed their borders to all travel, Phoenix was supposed to be a good navigator, but no one got past Alliance gusters.

If she’s this far off the map, she probably wanted to disappear. So, she probably went outward.

As he left the boat, he caught a glimpse of something he’d never seen before in an alley. A tall woman, wearing golden chainmail, one side of her face, covered in burns, with three of her limbs replaced with prosthetics. Their eyes met, and she smiled with one half of her face. A Valkyrie, they were all supposed to be on the Levian front. He tried to walk quickly away, but as he turned a corner, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Excuse me, you are the Nitehawk, yes? You’re looking for a girl named Phoenix, right? The one who gave you The Mark?”

“Indeed.”

“I know where to find her.”

______________________________________________________________

Guarding Dere was hell, and Hywel had been booked for a full week of it. In a way, you could understand its plight, Hywel didn’t like to be cooped up either and Dere had been locked away for 150 years. But in every other way, well, the thing was pure evil. You could feel it, just standing near it, malice almost seemed to radiate off of the beast, and if you met its eyes, you saw nothing but two pools of absolute emptiness, not just nothing themselves, but threating to make you nothing as well. And its smile was dreadful, you knew it was happy with itself, and when you saw it smiling, you couldn’t even hate it, the hate would drain away before you could replenish it. All you could feel was nothing.

And then there was its voice. It didn’t make any sound, you heard it in your head. It didn’t say anything of any consequence, but it seemed to know everything about you. Or sometimes it would say the most utterly outrageous things, but that was the trouble, after a while of hearing, you sometimes wouldn’t know the difference.

It was evil. In its most concentrated and loathsome form. Precisely what the Seekers were out to eradicate. Or at least that’s what they said. In the last couple of years, they seemed to mostly be fighting in the war. Capturing and killing things like Dere was precisely what Hywel had signed up for. Though the job mostly consisted of long guarding of the one that had already been captured.

Sometimes I hate this job.

You know, if you’d be willing to make a deal, I could give you the power to do all the things you want. Just think of how much better the world could be if you had that power.

I always hate you.

It was going to be a long week.

______________________________________________________________

Chapter 3: A Long Week.

______________________________________________________________

Hyla really didn’t constitute a city. But it was enough. Big enough that she could buy chickens and sheep. Big enough that her nerves would never rest. She was only there for a few hours, but her heart pounded the entire time. Her nerves acted up around any large group of people, but they were worse this week than ever. She was constantly reminded by her scars. This week one decade prior had given her so many. A particularly large one panged on her chest as she arrived back on the island, she’d killed the bear, but not before taking a swipe.

Desperate for distraction, she started planting vegetables, with any luck, she’d get some potatoes before winter hit. Then it wouldn’t be as bad as that first winter she’d weathered. She worked furiously, and the potatoes were all planted within an hour, she’d thought it would take till nightfall.

Ok, we’ll start building shelter then.

She dug out a pit, which she preceded to thatch over with blackberries, a task that, blessedly, took her the rest of the week. It was not a complete respite from her thoughts and memories, but it provided some comfort. It wasn’t ideal, but it was critically big enough for all three of her new sheep. They wouldn’t do well outside with how cold outer ring winters could get. Even with her magic, Phoenix had not relished the idea of spending a winter without shelter.

______________________________________________________________ I probably shouldn’t trust her. The Valkyries were a very secretive organization, not known for good faith offerings of assistance. But I can’t just let her go.

“Where?”

“The city of Asera.” Asera made as much sense as anywhere else, a Free City on the outer ring with enough people to disappear into, but not enough that you would definitely get caught.

“Why do the Valkyries know that?”

“Alkaryl is of special importance to us, whenever she is spotted, we’re the first to know.” A little suspect that the Valkyries have more of a stake than the Hunters, but all right.

“And why tell me?”

“You ask a lot of questions.” She raised her eyebrow.

“Well, sorry if you don’t look like a particularly reliable source.”

“It’s her time to die.”

“Thank you for the information.” Orwen turned to go.

“You misunderstand, I am to accompany you.” Fine by him, passing up the help of one of the most feared fighters in the Sky would only hurt his mission.

“All right, we leave at once then.”

She shook her head “I have a few matters to attend to beforehand. Meet me by the northern gate.”

Orwen tried to dispel his suspicions about the Valkyrie. His instincts were usually right, but he hadn’t slept in a while, and her story made sense, he needed her help to find Phoenix. But something still just wouldn’t sit right. He’d have to tough it out, for the mission.

Traveling with Sharon was not pleasant, she seemed to be all business, and was pushing Orwen to go faster, despite the fact that he was travelling with almost three times the normal weight. Her face apparently never moved, and she refused to engage in any conversation that wasn’t complaining about how long Orwen’s Speed took to recharge (despite the fact that they were on track to cover two thousand miles in a week.) But thankfully, Orwen’s suspicions subsided, though that might have been more because he was collapsing into bed at the end of each day.

But, after all this time, he was finally moving forward with his mission.

______________________________________________________________

Hywel emerged from his Hell on the fifth day, after 4 sleepless nights in a row, facing two more, when respite finally came.

“Hywel, you have been summoned to the Chamber.”

“Thank you, and I’m sorry you have to deal with this thing now.” Hywel gestured to Dere fatalistically.

“They’re coming with us.”

“What?”

The other seeker shrugged, unlocked the cage, and slipped Dere into some kind of collar “I don’t know, I was just told to get both of you.”

Hywel was led to the doors of the Chamber and then was left with Dere’s leash.

The doors into the Chamber felt especially heavy on Hywel’s tired hands as he pushed them open. He had been here many times before, but now of all times, it felt imposing. Dere’s whispers had not stopped.

The Chamber was laden with the scent of old parchment paper and dead spells. It was deafeningly silent, except for a scribe scribbling minutes of the previous engagement, probably an execution, given the somber looks of the Council. They sat on a raised platform, overlooking the whole room, there were seven of them, and all of their choices were final.

“Hywel Sutherland. Seeker Honorable.”

“I sir.” Hywel snapped to attention.

“Do you know why you have been summoned?”

“I was not informed, sir.” He looked up, the center councilmember was the one speaking, Garrel Satia, Killer of a Thousand foes. A garish title, but Hywel was in the presence of legends.

“A great time has come upon us. For just yesterday a method has been discovered to eliminate the Demon of which you now hold the leash from this world.” Oh, this’ll be good, how do they think they’ll get rid of me this time… Dere’s voice echoed, Dere caught his eye, They try to do this at least once a year, don’t worry, it won’t work, but you might die anyway…

As if to confirm the cat’s words, another councilmember spoke, Latise SeBorno. “And we are fortunate to have such a dedicated seeker as yourself at this time, for the ritual is not without sacrifice.”

“You, Hywel Sutherland, Seeker Honorable, have been chosen for this purpose.” This is what they always do, sacrifice loyal subjects for a chance at killing the only thing they fear. By the way, my offer still stands, but this is one of your last times to take it. The last guy didn’t and they let the Nitehawk kill him.

“What kind of sacrifice does the ritual entail?” Hywel asked.

“If all goes well, it will leave you exhausted for days” Made up, killing a demon would drain anyone for years… “If the worst occurs, you may have to give your life.” You see?

A third councilmember spoke up. “It is for this purpose that you have been tested, to prove your loyalty before we asked this of you.” You’ve been guarding my cell for five days, I thought they discovered it yesterday?

“And what if I refuse?” In response to this question, all seven of them stood up.

“THE COUNCIL HAS CHOSEN; ALL OF THEIR CHOICES ARE FINAL.”

Is it too late yet Dere?

Fortunately for you, it’s never too late to make a deal!

Ok, I accept. His mind raced, but there was no time to think about this decision. Everything went black.

______________________________________________________________

It opens its eyes.

______________________________________________________________

Chapter Four: A first eventful hour.

______________________________________________________________

Two Levians were sitting at the bar. Phoenix studied them as she sipped on her drink, tea. She’d had to come into town to stock up on food, as winter had started early. Almost a month earlier than it should have. She’d been forced to come inside or be outside in a winter storm. So, she sat in the safest seat in the tavern, a lonely table with a view of the entire space and surveyed the Levians.

She knew they were from Levias for a number of reasons. The first was that they were loud, she could listen to their conversation from across the room. The second was the woman’s jade earrings, unusual for this region. They had matching upper arm tattoos of a snake eating its own tail, which probably meant that they worked for the Levian government directly.

These were highly unusual people to be here, but they didn’t seem like bounty hunters. If this hadn't been a very small town, she might have pegged them as tourists. They weren’t wearing rings, so probably not a married couple. They seemed like good friends though, which made Phoenix jealous, though she didn’t really think much of it. She took out her necklace, a piece of wood, polished so smooth that it could have been mistaken for a gemstone. It was a gift from her father, he’d given it to her after her sister died, he was already sick and said he didn’t think he’d last much longer. He died that night.

“Hey, I really love your necklace.” Phoenix had drifted into her own thoughts and was stunned to see that the Levians had come over to her table. It was the girl who had given her the compliment.

“Oh, oh, oh, umm, Thanks? I guess.” She stammered.

“Sorry if I intruded, you were looking kind of sad, and then I saw that we have the same necklace.” The woman pulled out a necklace which was, in fact, almost identical to Phoenix’s.

“Wow, uh, yeah, its cool.” Not to mention impossible, her father had never been to Levias. “How?”

“What do you mean “how”?”

“I mean, this necklace was given to me by my father, who had never been to Levias.”

“Well, then he got it from someone else, because that’s the only place they’re made.”

“Weird.”

“You look like you have a lot of stories you could tell.” The large man commented.

The woman shot him a look. “I’m sorry about Flynn, he means well but doesn’t understand social cues sometimes. We’ll leave you alone now.”

“He’s not wrong, you can take a seat if you want.” She gestured to the empty chairs. “I’m Phoenix by the way.”

______________________________________________________________

Sharon shook Orwen in the middle of the night.

�� He was awake.

He was running.

He didn’t know what he was running from.

“Get down.”

They both dove.

He thought they had both dove.

His hands were tied behind his back.

I probably shouldn’t trust her. Orwen’s own thoughts came back to him as he was struck on the head.

He woke up in a dark room, hands shackled to a wall.

I failed.

No, I cannot fail, I’ll escape this.

These are Valkyries, there is no escaping this.

I’m the freaking Nitehawk, I’ll find a way.

His thoughts were muddled but quick, probably a concussion. He surveyed his surroundings as his eyes adjusted. He couldn’t make much out.

Fuck this. He stomped at the ground angrily.

The cell was small and cramped, with thick iron bars, the shackles were tight enough to cut into his wrists. No way to escape unless he was let out, no way they’d be stupid enough to do that.

I will escape, I have to. He let out a scream of frustration. But this is going to set me so far back.

______________________________________________________________

Hywel woke up with a pounding headache and a feeling like dread. But not for the future, but for the past.

Yeah, the first time does that to you. There’s water on the table behind you, drink all of it. You’ll die if you don’t drink and eat enough, and neither of us want that yet. Dere’s voice in his head. But all he could think about was water.

He found the jug and downed the entire thing. But when he looked up, he took a step back in shock.

The scene before him was horror.

He could recognize the walls of the Seeker complex, but the buildings had been leveled. Everything had been stained pitch black, like the aftermath of a wildfire, though Hywel knew this had been much, much worse.

And its my fault.

His entire world started spinning. He felt dizzy. This was his choice. Everyone was dead. It was his fault. His whole life was gone. He chose this. He must have known the deal wouldn’t end well. Everything he stood for, gone in a moment.

Am I the bad guy now?

This one question consumed his entire world as he collapsed back onto the ground.

______________________________________________________________

Chapter Five: A second eventful hour.

______________________________________________________________

The woman had introduced herself as Persephone, and the large man was Flynn. They had plenty of stories of their own to tell, apparently it had been a while since they’d left Levias, and they’d gotten in no small share of trouble since.

“And then less than an hour after we get rid of the dragon, what do we see, but a pirate flag. Luckily, our ship has wards for cannon fire, but these are pirates with trained dragons we’re talking about.” Flynn was busily recounting the story.

“So obviously, we just hightail it out of there, we actually used the wind jar we got from the cyclops incident here, because, come on, pirates with dragons.” Persephone interjected to finish the story.

“Skull and crossbones with wings? On a background somewhere between yellow and green?” Phoenix thought she knew the pirates in question.

“Exactly.”

“Well then, that’ll be Jorge Redbeard. Kinda a nasty guy, I hear it’s not even his natural beard color. I got captured by them once, not for very long, but I did see around the ship.” Phoenix leaned in. “Dragon droppings absolutely everywhere.”

“Hilarious.”

There was a pause in the conversation, but Phoenix didn’t want to stop talking.

“So, what actually brings you all this way from Levias?”

They looked at each other awkwardly, as if sharing a secret conversation through just their eyes, before Persephone apparently decided this was information that could be divulged.

“It’s complicated, but the short version is that Flynn is suffering from a terrible disease. We’re looking for a cure.” The levity drained from Persephone’s face as she said this.

“Oh”

Flynn waved a hand dismissively “Don’t worry about me, I won’t die… at least not soon, I just can’t go back until I’m cured.” He acted like it was the most reasonable reaction in the world.

“Where are you going?”

“It’s a small village, named Ser, there’s a healer there, supposed to be the best.” Persephone was apprehensive.

“I know him, and he is the best.”

“How?”

“It used to be my home.”

______________________________________________________________

It wasn’t long before someone came to get Orwen. She unlocked the shackles but kept her hand tight on his wrist. Pushing him roughly forward. He didn’t struggle, there wouldn’t be much point yet, he’d been trained for situations like this, he had to follow that training.

He was led into a large room lit by torches, with a big round table in the middle, surrounded by Valkyries, he could recognize Sharon across the table from him. He was sat down into a chair, and his hands were locked into another set of shackles.

“Good job people. We caught him.” The Valkyrie in charge spoke to the others. “The Nitehawk, right in our trap.”

“You just gonna keep gloating?” Orwen was practiced in keeping a calm demeanor.

“You’re in no position to talk, you fell for it.”

“I mean, it was a good plan, and lucky timing, you wouldn’t normally be able to do that.”

“You’re just bitter.”

“Are you ever gonna tell me why I’m here?”

The goal was annoyance was keeping the idea that he was completely trapped. This was, of course, not true, these shackles were much looser, he could dislocate his thumbs and slide them right off. But that wouldn’t do him much good right now, surrounded and unarmed, he had to buy time.

“Why so impatient? It’s not like you’ve got anywhere to go.”

Orwen smiled. “Actually, you are detaining me from an important mission for the Hunters.” The training was working, and he’d just found his way out, an outward facing window, thirty feet up, not ideal, but workable.

“Well, if you must know.”

Monologuing? His respect for the Valkyries was dwindling by the second. The woman in charge was describing gruesome torture methods, but she was putting the implements on the table, about 3 feet in front of him. She had better get fired for such a lapse in judgement. Not that anyone less skilled than Orwen would be able to escape. Then it happened. The guard change, all six subordinate Valkyries filed out of the room through the opposite door, the new ones coming in only a second afterward, but a second was all he needed.

“I’m really embarrassed for you here.” Orwen said before using Perfection.

Everything started to move in slow motion. Then his hands were free, then the lead Valkyrie was hit over the head with a large set of thumbscrews. Then he grabbed a spear and vaulted, landing on a ledge 10 feet up. Just 20 more to go, he’d practiced the next move many times. He dashed to the corner, and then using his Speed, ran up the wall, catching the edge of the window and pulling himself up and over onto the other side. He didn’t have any speed left, but he didn’t need it. There was a direct line of sight from here to a dock with a small gondola. He stopped using Perfection, he didn’t need it anymore.

Clean escape, that’s what they’d trained him for.

Hywel woke up a second time, but this time, he just stared at the sky.

I can’t be. I spent my whole life dreaming of fighting… what I am now?

You’ll destroy yourself thinking like that, believe me I know.

So, what do I do.

Distract yourself, anything, I recommend getting off this island and getting us some food.

I can’t just distract myself from the revelation that I am now everything I know to be wrong.

What do you think demons have been doing all this time?

It wasn’t a bad point, so Hywel went looking for a boat, whatever he was gonna do, he needed to get off this island.

______________________________________________________________

Chapter 6: Godspeed.

______________________________________________________________

It was decided that Phoenix would accompany Persephone and Flynn to Ser. It was a dangerous choice, Persephone and Flynn were still not much better than strangers, but Phoenix didn’t think that she could let them leave without her, during their conversation, something had stirred within her that she hadn’t felt in a long time, and now that she remembered it, it would be impossible to forget anytime soon.

It was dumb, of course. She didn’t like it. She’d made the same mistake with Karol, and that had left her with a knife between her shoulder blades.

But this felt different.

Of course it did, this time she would take precautions. She wouldn’t let herself get too attached, and she’d remain ready to escape at a moment’s notice. She wouldn’t be trapped.

Persephone and Flynn’s ship was massive, with three masts and several decks. The fact that they had been able to sail it with no extra crew meant that it almost certainly also had magic. It was truly a beautiful thing. And it was fast. Multiple times the top speed of Phoenix’s little gondola. They had enough space to pen up Phoenix’s animals, and within a day of the end of the storm, they had left for Ser, though, even with such a marvelous ship, traveling a hundred miles in outer ring winter would be nigh impossible without masterful navigation skills. Which was probably the only reason why she’d been invited along.

______________________________________________________________

Three days and nights in a small gondola adrift in the clouds. Orwen preferred running to boating, but he was competent enough in an emergency, which this definitely constituted. Even though he’d escaped, he’d be hunted down if he wasn’t careful. That’s what had gotten him into this mess in the first place, carelessness, he hadn’t followed his training, he’d been too focused on that one thing that he’d gotten sloppy. He couldn’t afford to get sloppy. He needed to focus on everything all at once. He’d need to do this perfectly to have any chance at completing the mission.

He finally arrived at his destination. He had no reason to believe that Phoenix was in Asera, but he did have a contact here that might be able to help. He’d been to Asera before, so he knew his way around, but between constantly checking to see if he was being followed and the fog that had been slowly encroaching on more and more of his waking hours due to lost hours of sleep, he missed turns constantly, and actually getting to his destination took him almost two hours.

Three knocks on the door, pause, repeat, pause, repeat.

The door was opened, and he was welcomed into a cozy little house with a fire roaring and a meal already cooking. He did not enter but stood in the doorway.

“You look like absolute crap.”

“Feel like it too.” Orwen longed to collapse into the guest bed, Bolson always kept it ready. “But I don’t have much time, I gotta get going soon.”

“Chasing Phoenix still?” “You ought to stay and rest a little, you can’t bring her in in this condition.”

“You forget who you’re talking to.”

“All right, all right. You’re in luck, we just got word about her.”

“Really, where?”

“Our person trailing the crown prince of Levias saw her leave with them.”

“So, she’ll be in Ser, and soon.” “That’s a ways away. I better get going. Thanks.”

Orwen turned to leave.

“Hey, remember not to run too fast, you’re gonna run yourself to death at this rate.”

______________________________________________________________

Hywel had never been very good with boats, but he didn’t know where he was going anyway, so it didn’t matter that he went slowly.

Where do I go?

Big island, on the horizon, there’s houses, there’ll be food.

I know, but after that where? I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.

Just focus on now, get food, eat it, then you can think about where to go next.

Do you ever think about anything other than food?

I think of lots of things that I want.

Ok, but anything other than what you want right now?

No, what else would I think about?

I don’t know. The future, the past, the people around you and what they need. Right and wrong.

That’s complicated. I prefer food.

I guess that makes sense. What did the Seekers call you things? Holes in the universe.

And the very manifestations of hunger and lust, yes, you get it, I eat, and then I go find other things to eat.

Hywel would not be finding any answers to his problems from Dere, but of course, it wasn’t like he could keep his thoughts to himself, he didn’t know exactly what had happened, but Dere was somehow… a part of him now.

That’s why you’re evil, I guess. You can’t really be anything else. Unsatisfiable hunger never really helped anyone.

It helped you.

At what cost though? Is it even worth it? Considering that my life cost that of others?

This is why I focus on food. Anyway, we’re here.

______________________________________________________________

Chapter 7: A Sight in the Distance.

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Phoenix looked out from the crow’s nest of the ship across the sea of clouds. She didn’t have to be up here, it was a calm day, and the ship could essentially sail itself. She could have been down on the deck, where Persephone and Flynn were talking. She could be a part of that conversation.

But she was anxious. She worried about whether this was really a good choice. Her instincts told her that getting too close to these people would end poorly. Like with Karol, and Seria. Her instincts had kept her alive this long.

And yet…

Another part of her longed to descend.

Persephone looked up at the crow’s nest. Phoenix hadn’t come down in a while, she didn’t even think she’d gotten lunch. She was debating whether it would be better to bring her some food, or if she probably needed to be left alone.

“You should go check on her.”

“And have to climb all that way?”

“You could always fly up, I really don’t understand the point of hiding that stuff from her, she seems trustworthy, it’s not like she’s gonna do anything bad to us.”

“Remember that we’re taking precautions for you. You are way too important to risk like that.”

“Ok, but we both know you’re gonna check on her. It’s your arms that have to haul you up there.”

“You could probably throw me.”

“Is that not more suspicious?”

“I don’t know.” Persephone left to get some sandwiches.

“You climbed all that way just to bring me sandwiches?”

“Indeed, but mostly to check how you’re doing. You’ve been up here for a long time.”

“Yeah.”

Phoenix picked up a sandwich off the plate and started eating.

“You like being alone?”

“I don’t know if I’d say that.”

“Then it’s probably just comfortable. You’ve been alone for a long time.”

“Definitely that.” She took another bite.

“And going back to Ser is dredging some stuff up.”

“Going back to your home does that.”

“It’s not my home, hasn’t been for a long time.”

“I hear that. I could say the same for where I was born.” Persephone stared wistfully “I assume there’s no family waiting for you?”

Phoenix shook her head. “I’ve been an orphan since I was 6.” “These sandwiches are really good.”

Persephone could tell she didn’t want to talk about it. “Thanks, I make my own mustard.”

Phoenix saw the island of Ser in the distance.

______________________________________________________________

Orwen ran.

The path he was taking had been built recently, to help move supplies for the war effort. Warpaths were always good for him; they took away the requirement for ferries.

He was using every once of Speed he got, and walking in between uses. This wasn’t the healthiest way to do it, but it was the fastest. He could rest when he’d found her.

He slept as little as possible. He needed regular sleep, or his Speed wouldn’t work, but he had to keep going. He was so close he could taste it. Several times he’d thought he’d seen Valkyries in the bushes. He didn’t know if he’d know if they were real.

He was so tired.

But he had to keep running.

Run.

Run

Run.

Fight.

They were on him.

He stabbed.

They died; he’d hit his mark.

Run.

Run

Run.

Run

Run.

______________________________________________________________

Hywel ate. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was. He must have eaten every last crumb they had to offer.

I guess having a demon inside you probably does that. Ok, I ate, now what do I do?

Probably sleep.

You’re no help.

Hey, I just say what I’m feeling.

Hywel just started walking. He didn’t know what he was looking for, but he hoped he’d know it when he found it.

Possession seemed to have its merits. Even though he was constantly hungry and sleepy, he didn’t seem to need food or sleep to survive, or at least, he was able to walk without stopping or sleeping for 5 days straight, so that seemed to be the takeaway.

He finally stopped only when he saw it. The front line of the war. A burning mass of shattered, quickly constructed defenses. They had recently lost a battle. He didn’t know which side they were, and though he might have cared sometime earlier in his life, he couldn’t care less now. All he saw were the dragons.

You aren’t supposed to use dragons as weapons. In captivity they’re killing machines, and if they get loose, they cause immense amounts of damage, indiscriminately, but in the wild they are gentle giants, and rarely have negative encounters with anything other than sheep.

The fact that there was a village this close to the front line was a tragedy enough. But there was a village, and dragons. Hywel had no more thoughts.

It took seconds, or it seemed like seconds, for Hywel to get between the village and the dragons. He had climbed onto the tallest building in town. And he had his bow at the ready already. As soon as the closest beast was within range, the arrow fired, and then Hywel was on the dragon’s back. He didn’t know what he was doing, the power seemed to flow from instinct, not thought, the beast’s throat was torn out and he had leaped to another one.

It was less than a minute before he landed, standing on top of the last dragon’s corpse, in the center of the village. The villagers didn’t cheer. They had been saved. But not by a hero, but by what was, to the vision of everyone, a monster.

______________________________________________________________

It stirs in its nest, looking out over the city.

______________________________________________________________

Chapter 8: Continuance.

______________________________________________________________

Ser was not like Phoenix remembered. It was a warzone; a battle had broken out recently nearby. Keeping track of the front lines was an impossible task these days. Phoenix hesitated, Flynn and Persephone did not.

They were immediately in the streets, telling people to get out, to go to their ship if there was nowhere else. Several houses had been hit by projectiles from the battle. Flynn quickly went to work getting people out of them.

The Firethrower. That’s why the battle was here. Most towns didn’t have one, sole control over one made it almost impossible to attack you, but this town had little value outside of it. Phoenix was running, through the town, through the crowds of people. It was the major threat to the city, but it could be easily neutralized. Until she got to the battle scene.

This is insane. That didn’t stop her. She threw herself into the mass of soldiers. She was adept at moving through crowds, and she wasn’t wearing the colors that would indicate to either side that she was an enemy. So, it didn’t take her nearly as long as it should have. She didn’t know why she was doing it. She wouldn’t normally risk herself like that. But there wasn’t time to think about that right now.

The weapon was made of wood, it was trivial to set it alight with her power, though, given its size, it took a while to really start burning. She was outside the crowd of combatants before they started to realize what had happened. Both sides of the battle started retreating quickly, but as she looked back she saw sizeable groups of soldiers peeling off to follow her.

Drat. She sprinted away as hard as she could. Some of them had horses, she wouldn’t be able to outrun them, but maybe she could get back to the ship before they thought to cut her off. The town looked to have been evacuated successfully. There was a throng of people on the dock. And Flynn and Persephone were… running toward her?

“What are you doing?”

“Coming to help you!” Flynn roared.

“If you didn’t notice, there’s a full army, get to the ship.”

“We can’t lead them that way, there’s innocent bystanders.” Persephone said.

“We can’t exactly fight here.”

“Watch us.”

Phoenix stopped as she got to them and turned around to face the oncoming army. It was a hundred to three.

“You’re gonna like this one.” Persephone smiled as she threw off her cloak, revealing a pair of sparkling butterfly wings, which started to flap, as she shrunk within seconds to the size of a squirrel.

She flew straight towards the oncoming throng, reaching a fast speed before – Phoenix couldn’t believe her eyes – she grew not only to her original size, but fifteen times the size. Digging large furrows into the ground where she landed, and probably more importantly, scaring the horses, and some of the people too.

“That buys us some time.” Flynn was right. They were chaos now. But it wasn’t over, as a few dozen foot soldiers were still running towards them. “It’s big and flashy, but she can’t maintain that size for very long, she expends enough of her power just staying human sized all the time.” “I don’t suppose you are good at one versus many fighting?”

“Not really, requires touch.” She held up her hands to indicate she was talking about her powers.

“Ah, well. I’m sure Persephone will understand that this was necessary. Probably be able to scare these guys off pretty easily.” He turned towards the oncoming soldiers; they were only about 60 cubits away now. He looked towards the sky, and his body started to change.

Phoenix knew what they were trying to cure now. Ursanthropy.

Faced with a twelve-foot tall werebear, the soldiers turned tail.

That was intense. That was insane. Why did I do that?

Persephone and Flynn were returning to their normal selves as they walked back.

They didn’t hesitate. I guess I was just following them.

______________________________________________________________

There was a point that Orwen got to where he couldn’t feel exhaustion anymore. He couldn’t feel anything anymore. All that was left was determination. He was so close, within mere hours, his mission would be complete.

There was nothing left to think about but what he would do when he finally saw her face. As he sat eating his dinner – the last dinner before he got to her – he looked into his little mirror (for some reason the Valkyries hadn’t taken it.)

Soon, it’ll all be worth it.

He thought of what he’d say to her. What would be a suitable ending line for this, the greatest chase of his life.

Phoenix Alkaryl, fleet of foot and strong of spirit. I am Orwen Desinor, the Nitehawk, master hunter. You have fled me for too long, but now it is time for this to come to an end.

He pressed forward, less than a mile left to go.

______________________________________________________________

Hywel ate and killed. It was all he could bring himself to do. There was a lot to kill in this part of The Sky, word of him quickly spread, he left quite the impression on those who saw him. He came to understand that people thought of him like a monster, that was how he saw himself, but they knew that if they pointed him in the direction of something evil, he would kill it, it was the only way he clung to the semblance of sanity he had left. He was able to convince himself that even if he was a monster, he could make himself a useful one.

And Dere was happy to oblige this behavior.

He caught a reflection of himself in a pool of water. A sunken face, despite all of the food he gorged himself on, he was emaciated. He was taller than he had been (now almost seven feet), but horribly thin, his skin (grey, or purple, or red, or yellow depending on where you looked) hung off of him in most places, as if it was made for a much larger man. His joints hung loose, constantly either horribly stiff or horrifyingly flexible.

It reminded him of why he was doing what he was doing. He wanted to die, but he couldn't justify doing it in any other way. And so he ripped and tore through the other monsters in these islands, he didn’t know where he was anymore, but he didn’t care.

______________________________________________________________

Chapter 9: Face to Face.

______________________________________________________________

Qualos wasn’t there. He had died months before, not from the war, but of consumption, the same thing that had killed Phoenix’s father and sister years before. There had been an outbreak, leading to the deaths of dozens of people. There wasn’t anyone left who cared about Phoenix’s exile. Which should have been a relief, it was convenient for her. But she couldn’t be happy about death.

The damage from the battle wasn’t huge, all things considered, only a few people were injured, and the people who lived in the destroyed houses found other places to stay, at least for the time being. But there was quite a bit to do, and it was almost an hour after the fighting had stopped before Flynn and Persephone approached Phoenix again.

“So, I’m guessing you have questions?”

“Not really, I think the fact that you’re a fairy with growth powers and Flynn is a Werebear is evident enough.”

“That’s not exactly it though.”

“Hmm.”

“Flynn is also the crown prince of Levias.”

“Nice.” Phoenix smiled. She wasn’t especially surprised, the giant fairy thing had kind of prepared her for anything. “Ok, so we got a disgraced prince in exile until he can find a cure for his Ursanthropy, and his guardian slash best friend, the two-inch-tall fairy who pretends to be a human but can also be the size of a giant. Anything else?”

“That’s essentially it.” “None of that is surprising you?”

“I’ve had a weird life. Traveling thief isn’t a career for the faint of heart. And honestly, that’s a pretty logical explanation for two Levians with a massive, fancy ship traveling alone to a tiny village at the edge of The Sky.”

“So where do we go now?” Flynn asked. “I mean, this is a dead end.”

“For a cure for Ursanthropy?” “The only other possibility is Core.” “That’s a long way though. We need to leave as soon as possible.” Phoenix started towards the ship, she didn’t really want to spend any more time here than necessary, there was no closure here anymore to the pain this town had caused her.

“Is there nothing else you want to do while we’re here?” Persephone asked.

“Nope, I told you, this used to be my home.”

“Well, we can’t leave just now, we have to buy some supplies if we’re going on that long of a trip.”

Phoenix settled on wandering around the town for a few hours, she’d be couped inside the ship for long enough soon.

______________________________________________________________

She was right there. He could see her. The journey was over, there was only one thing left for Orwen to do.

“Phoenix Alkaryl, strong spirited and fleet of foot. I am Orwen Desinor, the Nitehawk. You have fled for a long time, but it is time for this to end. Have you any final words?”

“Orwen! Nice to see you! It’s been a while.” Phoenix turned around. “Nice speech. A few comments. First, my name is Alkaryl, it’s Liventis, Alkaryl was my mother, though you Hunters probably only have us under her name from the military records. Second, you will not be capturing me today.” She held her dagger close. This would be a hard fight. But he would be attempting to take her in alive, which she knew wasn’t his specialty. She clapped her hands as she said “Ok, let’s do this.”

This was a distraction tactic, intimidation like this was a Hunter thing. He ignored her and started channeling Perfection he was low on both of his powers, he needed to get this over quickly. And he only had one knife, so throwing was out. He closed the distance quickly, ducking under her first attack and jabbing into her stomach, before dashing back out of reach.

She was clutching her side where he had stabbed her, but also… smiling? “You’ll have to do better than stabbing old wounds.” Indeed, as she took her hand away from her side, she revealed a charred hole in her shirt, and underneath a large amount of old scar tissue, and the newly cauterized wound.

He dashed back in, he couldn’t sustain Speed or Perfection much longer, he needed to end this now. Her knife was red hot as she took a swing at him. A torso strike wouldn’t do much to her, she was apparently practiced fighting through the pain, maybe if he hit her wrists? He ran out of Speed, he should have saved some up, but he had been in a hurry. He was still able to perfectly parry the knife, knocking it out of her hands. He turned to strike at her body again as he saw his fatal mistake, with no speed left to dodge it. He’d been focused on the knife; he hadn’t looked at her other hand. It landed on his shoulder, red hot. He blacked out from the pain, he barely had time to scream.

He had failed.

______________________________________________________________

Dere saw fear. Hywel saw justification. Or at least a route to it. It was a horrifying scene. Thankfully Hywel knew it wasn’t happening, yet this was the future.

People screamed. The streets ran red with blood. Hywel didn’t know what was going to cause it, but he thought Dere did. It didn’t matter, he knew he could stop it.

A beast lingered over the bodies of the people it had slain, licking its lips. Hywel almost cheered. This was what he was looking for. If he was to be a monster, if all that he would be able to do was kill, he could kill this thing, he got the sense that it was the biggest monster of all.

It cannot be killed. Dere’s voice was panicked. Do not look for it, you will die.

I think that’s the goal.

No, you cannot kill this, it is not some small beast. Even we fear it.

Well, if demons fear it, then it must be evil. Maybe I can find the justification I’m looking for.

Do you know what happens to me if you die?

You’ve been fine with it until now.

Only because you haven’t been after things that I couldn’t beat. That’s no dragon, that’s… IT.

Well, we better find a way to kill it. Because I’m doing it either way.

Hywel saw where it would happen, Core. And then he thought he saw It look right at him.

______________________________________________________________

Chapter 10:

______________________________________________________________

“We can’t really do anything else except wait for him to wake up.” Persephone had treated Orwen’s burn. It wouldn’t heal completely, Phoenix had only touched him for a second, but the heat had immediately caused a bright white handprint to form, and parts were brown or almost black. “It’s a pretty bad burn, and I think that he was already pretty exhausted, but he should survive.”

“How long until we’re able to leave?”

Persephone knew what Phoenix meant; she didn’t want to be here when Orwen woke up. “I don’t want to leave him here; this town doesn’t have anyone trained enough to treat him.” “If that gets infected, and no one is here to help him, he’ll die.” “And quick or not, he can’t get himself to the next town.”

Phoenix understood that Persephone didn’t want to be responsible for his death, Phoenix didn’t want to either, especially not in this town, but still... “So, we just take him with us?” “Did you forget he tried to kill me?”

“Yeah, if we’re going to go, we should take him.“ Persephone looked over at where Flynn was “and we need to leave.” She looked at Phoenix “look, I get that you don’t want to travel with him, maybe this is where we leave you.”

Phoenix balked at that, but she didn’t know why. Yeah, that was the most logical answer. But, for some reason…

She shook her head “no, you need me if you’re going to navigate all the way to Core.” She was fighting to stay with these people? She’d fought long and hard to get to where she was, she’d gotten paid already, she should just let them go and go back to her little island. Was she really going to choose traveling with the assassin that had hunted her for months.

Yes, yes, she was. “Look, so long as he’s injured, I don’t think he poses much of a threat. As soon as he can walk though, we drop him off.”

“Absolutely. And we can keep him in a locked room too.” Persephone smiled; she was glad Phoenix wanted to stay with them. “Hey Flynn, come over here, help me get this guy loaded up so we can leave.”

______________________________________________________________

Orwen didn’t wake up for almost a day, when he did, he was on his stomach on a large, soft bed in the belly of a rocking ship. His entire back ached, but the pain was by far the worst on his left upper back. He tried to get out of bed, but twisting his body only made it much worse.

“I wouldn’t try that” Persephone brought in some food. “your left shoulder sustained some nasty burns.” “We definitely need to keep you in bed for at least a few days.”

“Who are you? Also, where am I?”

“Oh, yeah, that. Well, we couldn’t exactly just leave you in a town with no doctors with that kind of burn. But we really needed to get going. So, we brought you on board.” “I’m Persephone by the way.”

“Do you know where Phoenix went?”

“She’s here too. But I wouldn’t try anything.”

“She’s here!? Why would you let me travel with her?” Orwen was ecstatic, though confused, maybe he hadn’t failed after all.

“The other option was to essentially leave you for dead. No one wanted that.”

Kinda stupid, I would have left her for dead in a heartbeat. But I probably need to pretend to play along for now.

“All right, I assume I’m at least locked in this room though?”

“And your daggers are locked up in a closet on the other side of the ship, yeah, we weren’t gonna take that chance.”

Persephone left, and Orwen started eating his food, he’d be coming up with some sort of plan to complete the mission, but for now, he needed to sleep, his back was killing him.

______________________________________________________________

Hywel finished climbing the hill. Core was a long way away, so he’d need to pace himself. He’d made good progress; he’d walked nearly 40 miles over the last couple of days. Though, at some point he would have to find a way to increase the pace, he’d probably need to get a ship, he had a sense that what he’d seen would happen in a matter of months, and he needed to travel a lot.

As he knelt beside the pond, he scooped up some water to drink, he hadn’t had a sip in weeks, he didn’t need it. And he looked at his reflection.

It was, better, or at least, less bad. The color was starting to return to parts of his face, and the bags under his eyes had shrunk significantly, he’d slept for the first time in a while. His increased height had not diminished, he still stood almost seven feet tall, compared to his natural 5 foot 4, but he looked significantly less emaciated.

What has happened to me? Is it really newfound purpose, or am I just getting used to being a monster?

Dere remained silent, he suspected he was being given a form of cold shoulder for his choice.

He was still drenched in blood, so he used this opportunity to bathe. His clothes were mostly ruined, and none of them fit well anymore.

I need to get new ones; I’ll need to be some manner of presentable if I expect to be able to get a ride to Core.

His hair had grown ragged, it was long, but it had been falling out in tufts. He was surprised to see that he still he still had his dagger. He cut as much of the hair off as he could, better bald than patchy. He left his beard.

Wait, that’s odd, I couldn’t grow one before.

Sometimes that happens. Dere spoke up for the first time in a while. If your hair comes back, it might come back curly too. Possession does weird things to human bodies.

Oh, I hear you’re speaking up again.

Just here to remind you that if you are doing hygiene, you should trim your nails, they look like claws.

Indeed, they did.

You deciding to be helpful all of a sudden?

Maybe if we get you back in civilized society, I can convince you not to kill yourself.

Not a chance. Hywel smiled as he scrubbed the blood from beneath his fingernails, the first time in at least two months that he had smiled. But I appreciate the sentiment.

______________________________________________________________

Chapter 11: A long trip

______________________________________________________________

Phoenix sat on the deck, this area of the sky was calm, which meant slow going, but also not a lot to do as a navigator, so she was sharpening her knife.

“It’s a beautiful thing, glad to see you’re keeping it in good shape.” Flynn sat down beside her.

“It’s broken, it used to be able to fold, it also used to have a wooden handle.” Repetitive heat had fused the tang and the blade together, she’d had to weld additional metal onto it several times to keep it usable, the handle had now been shaped to almost exactly fit her hand.

“Put another way, it’s been shaped into exactly the right shape for its use.” “Weapons designed for magic have to be unique, that’s what makes them beautiful.”

“Every time I use it in battle, I have fix it up again, otherwise the blade warps.”

Flynn nodded “yeah, it’s a lot of work to hone after every fight, but what you get in return is a perfectly natural tool. I’ve seen how you fight; you use that knife like an animal uses claws, I would know.” He balled his hands up into fists.

“How does it feel?” Phoenix asked.

“Being a Werebear?”

“Yeah, that”

“It’s not bad. It’s never been the being so much as the being seen as that’s the problem.” “When I actually transform, all I feel is the power of it, like I can do anything I want to.” “That’s kind of the worst part too, is coming out of it, and not feeling that anymore.”

“Feeling like you can’t actually change anything that matters.”

“Yeah, that”

“And then comes the fear, that you’ll be trapped, and something bad will happen to you.”

“I don’t know about that; I’ve been living on borrowed time for a while. It’s more so feeling that I’m trapping her.”

“Persephone?”

“Yeah, she cares a lot, and she’s determined that I have to survive.”

“You won’t die though.”

“Not from ursanthropy directly, no, but my father, as much as he pretends. Well, we think he’s the one sending people after us. We talk a big game, but we barely survived the last attack, I don’t think we, I, make it all the way to Core.”

“He would do that?” Phoenix was astounded.

“He was willing to when we were back in Levias, said he ‘couldn’t allow exceptions to the rule of law’, even for his own son.” “I think he’s always seen me as less than my brothers, might have just been looking for an excuse.”

“I can’t even imagine that.”

Flynn smiled, trying to cut the gloominess of the conversation “don’t feel too bad, at least I got to grow up as a prince.”

“I mean, that doesn’t make any of that less tragic…”

“I don’t care that much, I’ve just kinda dealt with it.”

“That doesn’t work.”

Flynn raised an eyebrow.

“Running from your feelings I mean.” “Believe me, I’ve tried.”

“I wouldn’t call it that… I’ve just got, thick skin, that’s it.” “It doesn’t get to me.”

“Must be nice.”

“You’ve been running though?”

“Until it catches up with me.”

“And then you fight like a cornered animal.”

“That’s one way to say it.”

“Like, not trying to kill it, just make it go away.”

“I don’t like killing.”

Flynn nodded. “Does anyone really like it?”

“The last time I killed I broke my dagger.”

“That must be a good story.”

Phoenix looked at him seriously, “it was a bear, it almost killed me, gave me this” she pulled her sleeve up to reveal a nasty bite mark on her shoulder “but I killed it. I don’t like killing, so I haven’t killed since, I just run, and when I’m cornered.” “Well, if you don’t want to kill, you have to learn to inflict pain instead.”

“A lot of it.”

“Yeah, that.”

______________________________________________________________

Orwen lay in bed. The room had no windows, which, on a boat this fancy looking, probably meant it was toward the bottom. The walls were likely to sturdy to have a hope of breaking through, and there was no access to the door lock from this side, so picking wasn’t going to be an option. The only way he would be able to break out would be to jump Persephone when he brought him his food. If he did that, he could probably escape, assuming they didn’t have someone watching for him immediately outside the door.

His wound had healed considerably since he had come aboard the ship, but he strictly speaking still needed more rest. This, combined with his reluctance to assault Persephone, she seemed like such a nice person, led him to conclude that his best chance for completing the mission lay in a more, diplomatic approach. Gain their trust, lead them as close to Hunter headquarters as possible, and then bring Phoenix in at the last possible minute. He probably also wanted to save as much Speed and Perfection as possible. That meant sleep and food, easy enough, whoever was cooking the food was an amazing chef.

“I hope you’re hungry” Persephone walked in, talking in the sweet, almost sing-song tone she usually used with him, “we’ve got something delicious today, Phoenix made Borscht, I hear it’s a family recipe.”

“Does Phoenix normally cook? I’ve been wondering who it was.”

“Ever since we found out she’s absolutely amazing at it, we’ve refused to even touch a pot.”

After he tasted the soup, wonderfully meaty, he said “probably the right call.”

“From what I can tell, she just appreciates having this full of a set of ingredients.” “How’s your shoulder?”

“Much better, thank you. It’s been feeling better every day.”

“Well,” she turned to leave “let me know if you need anything else.”

“Hey, Persephone”

“Yes?”

“Seriously, thanks for doing this for me, most people I know wouldn’t.”

She walked away smiling. Exactly what Orwen needed.

______________________________________________________________

Hywel ran now. He had avoided crossing the war line before, but he could no longer. But the borders were closed, so there wasn’t an easy way to get across. And what was more troubling was that he had alerted seekers to his location. They had been tracking him down, whatever remnant of the Seekers was left apparently had capturing him as their first priority.

So, he was running, both from half a dozen trained Seekers and a large contingent of soldiers, who had at least a few boats. Thankfully, the wind was low today, so the boats couldn’t outrun his enhanced speed. He would have been captured ages ago if not for a confluence of lucky factors. He would almost definitely be captured soon, he knew where he was, and he had studied this area, Seekers were required to know the general layout of all the land around the war line. This road was old and would run out in less than a mile.

He didn’t want to have to fight them. They didn’t stand a chance, with Dere’s help he could probably have plowed through the entire alliance army, but he wouldn’t be able to avoid killing them, enough people had died needlessly because of him already.

So, he’d have to figure out a way to escape.

There’s the end of the road. Nothing within a thousand feet.

�� Two thousand feet out, there’s a rock, with a running start I can get you most of the way, and then shoot an arrow.

If I’m even a little short though…

You could always turn around and fight!

No.

He stopped about a dozen feet short of the edge, turned around and surveyed the oncoming army, and then he looked over the edge, nothing. If he fell, he would be falling forever.

I wouldn’t take that risk if I were you, you have choices here. Instead of throwing yourself over the possible suicide gap, you could stand and fight or let yourself get captured and break out later.

Hywel took a deep breath. No, if I want to believe I can be redeemed, there is no choice.

He backed up and took a running start. With Dere’s power, he launched himself across 100 feet, 500 feet, 1000, 1500, he just had to shoot this arrow 250 feet, not the easiest, but he could do it.

He knocked the arrow, drew, and shot. It raced toward that solitary rock…

And missed.

______________________________________________________________

Chapter 12: Impossibilities

______________________________________________________________

The wind had picked up, it was howlingly fast, the middle ring was known for wild changes in weather, but this was stronger than Phoenix had seen in a long time.

“If this keeps up, we’ll be in Dorsinli this afternoon.” She had to shout to be heard over the wind.

“Really? It feels like we just left Nerestar.” Flynn shouted back. It had taken three weeks to get from Ser to Nerestar, but only four days to get to where they were. “We’re making good time!”

“Remember that the distance from the middle ring to the inner ring is longer, and from the inner ring to Core, that’s going the feel interminable.”

“That’s not what the map shows.”

“I forget that you haven’t been farther in than the capital of Levias.” “Let me finish tying this up then I’ll come down and explain it.” The sail needed to be secured better, she finished tying the knot and then quickly climbed down the netting.

“Ok, so this is weird for people who were born on the Outer Ring, like us, but I forget that they don’t teach it in Levias, given that it only has territory in the Outer Ring.” “As you get closer to the middle of the map, it gets less accurate.”

“Couldn’t they just draw the map better.”

“No, see, there is no actual middle of the Sky. The radius is infinite.”

“How does that work?”

“No one really knows, but if you walk towards where the middle would be, you just find more sky. So, as you get closer to the middle, the map can’t be drawn right, because the circumferences of concentric circles still decrease.”

“That’s not geometrically possible” Flynn looked at Phoenix with a side eye.

“Thus, why the map doesn’t show it. But anyway, what it means is that each ring is significantly smaller around than the outer ones but the chords across them are increasingly long with respect to their circumferences.”

“Wait, wouldn’t that mean that they get to the point where its quicker to go around the circle than across it.” Flynn looked fully confused.

“Indeed, it depends on how far in the middle ring, but in the inner ring, every two points can be reached in less distance by a circular path than a straight one through the inside.”

“Hey Persephone, have you heard this before?” She’d just gotten back from taking Orwen his food.

“What is it?”

“I was just explaining hyperbolic space to Flynn here.”

Persephone’s face scrunched up in disgust. “I’m so glad I don’t have to navigate anymore.”

“Yeah, it only gets worse as you get further in, but it’s that or stay here with the bad weather.” Phoenix had learned the hard way, navigating by yourself out of even the middle ring was insanity.

“Hey Phoenix, Orwen wanted to say something to you.” “I told him you probably wouldn’t come.”

“Can I have Flynn outside the door?”

“Sure, I’ll stand guard.”

“Then there’s not much to worry about.”

______________________________________________________________

Orwen was surprised to see Phoenix come in.

“You came?”

“Yeah, there’s not much reason not to. I don’t have a lot else to do today.”

“I just wanted to say”

“You’ll say you’re sorry, I honestly don’t believe you. And it’s ok by the way. For you to hate me. I’d rather be on a ship with a thousand people who hate me openly than one who pretends to like me.”

Orwen opened his mouth to speak, but Phoenix raised a hand. “And don’t say it was only professional, we both know that’s not true; no one runs themselves that ragged for a job.”

I do sometimes Orwen thought probably too often, but there was no point in trying to convince Phoenix that he was, merely, following orders. “You’re right, it was personal.” “Still is. You have to know I still want to take you in.”

“Yeah, I figured that.”

“So, why’d you agree to travel with me.”

“It’s my principal flaw. I get too attached to people, I can’t leave.” She shrugged “They betray me, or they leave.” She said it in a nonchalant tone. “That’s why I have so many of these.”

“You know I could kill you right now if I wanted.”

“Oh, believe me, I know. But I’m not stupid, I wouldn’t have come if I thought there were a chance of that.” “You have to take me in alive.”

He did indeed.

“Not that alive.”

Phoenix chuckled at that one. “Hey, can you walk yet? I wanna show around the ship.”

“Now why would you do such a thing? I just threatened to kill you.”

“Oh, you’re so serious about the whole assassin thing. Its gonna grind your gears so hard to know you can’t bring me in yet.”

That much was true, it frustrated him to no end, but he wanted a distraction, and this sort of played into his plan. Though, what Phoenix had said about people betraying her got to him a bit. Just a bit. “Yeah, I can walk, let’s see it.”

______________________________________________________________

Hywel was only falling for a minute, but it felt like an eternity, by the time he realized that the first arrow had missed, he had no time to shoot another.

Well, this is how it ends, I guess. At least I’m taking you down with me.

He must have been almost a mile below the island when he felt a firm grip on the back of his shirt.

“Well, thank goodness, you’re a lot lighter than you look.”

He looked up, astonished to see a woman with two giant feathered wings sprouting from her back. She could only be described as radiant, quite literally seeming to glow, as if something within her could not be contained, and was struggling to be free.

She managed to drag him all the way up to the rock he had been aiming for. They could see the soldiers gathering at the end of the path.

“Ah, don’t worry about them, we’re almost past the border already, they won’t chase us any farther.” “I’m Karol by the way.”

“Hywel” “How, how did you find me?”

“If you didn’t notice, everyone on this side of the Sky has been following you for almost a month. I’ve been tailing you for a while, to make sure you don’t do anything stupid, like taking a plunge into the Void.” “Hey, I’d love to chat later, but we need to get going, they won’t follow us across the border, but we have about 1000 feet left.”

They traveled a pretty good distance, the rocks were close enough now that Hywel could jump between them.

“Sorry if this is offensive” Hywel started talking almost as soon as they had stopped “but what’s with the wings?”

“A recent thing, possession works weirdly.”

“Wait, you have a demon too?”

She raised an eyebrow “you don’t know much about how this stuff, do you?”

“Not a demon, then?”

She shook her head “no, demons are spirits of emptiness. Mine is a devil, a spirit of fullness, of bursting and limitless possibility.”

You’ve been awfully silent about this whole affair Dere.

Demons and Devils don’t mix. We kill each other.

“That seems infinitely preferable to mine.”

“Oh, it is, I wouldn’t have hunted down a demon.”

“You mean, you actually wanted to be possessed?”

“It’s a marvelous power, I wanted to be strong, so I could help people, I failed before.” “I think you’re the same, we both want to cleanse the world of its evil. That’s why I followed you.”

______________________________________________________________

@brokendarkfairyempressforever

@hijabi-flavored-nerd

I fixed a few things. Its almost 13 thousand words now, by far the longest thing I've ever written, and getting close to the halfway point plot-wise, which means that technically this will probably end up at Novella length (Its already 30 pages in the Word document I'm writing in).

Actually, I'm gonna tag some of my other mutuals as well, I won't tag you again though unless you want to...

@queenpiranhadon

@nervousscissorsgoopthing

@betanian117

@justalunaticfangirl

@shrxe

21 notes · View notes

mostly-imagines · 4 months ago

Text

Sugar on the Rim vol. I

bruce wayne x afab!reader

aka the billionaires new friend

warnings: implied that reader is a virgin, age gap (bruce is older than reader), mentions of sex, smut in next part

You twist the stem of the wine glass around between your fingers slowly. Your chin rests atop your knees as you stare vacantly at the tiny puddle left of the drink. You could go refill it, but then you’d have to go back out to the main room and man…you really do not want to do that. So you’ll sit here, swiping your tongue across the bumps of the roof of your mouth as if it's a fascinating new discovery.

The creak of hinges has you shooting upright, your back thumping against the stair step behind you. You’re not immediately sure how to act as though it’s normal that you’re sitting in the stairwell outside the fundraiser rather than in it, fraternizing with old and new money alike. You freeze, trying to relax your posture so it doesn’t look like you’re alarmed at the sight of another person, but not so relaxed that you look as bored as you are.

Your neutrality stutters when you glance up to find the host of the fundraiser. The billionaire host of the fundraiser. Bruce Wayne, the billionaire host of the fundraiser. Your posture straightens right back up and your mouth snaps shut as you make eye contact.

Should you stand up?

No, he’s rich, not royalty.

You are in his house though—

He looks you over contemplatively, “I don’t know you,” It’s not accusatory, rather he says it like it’s something interesting.

You perk up at that, immediately formulating reasons to justify your presence. “Oh, uh, no—” the words nearly spill out of your mouth all at once. You clear your throat, “I’m just a plus one for my boss—”

“Who’s your boss?” he asks, relaxed.

“Arthur Mullins.”

He looks to the side, squinting, “Mullins…he’s the executive at Williamson Industries, yes?”

You nod and he returns the gesture, slower, like he’s processing through something. “I’m Bruce,” he says warmly after a moment, holding his hand out to you.

You nod before you can even think to get any words to come out, “I—yeah, I know,” you accept his hand, shaking it as you tell him your name.

There’s a slight glint in his eye when he hears your name, and he repeats it quietly to himself. “A pretty name.”

“Oh, it’s just…” Just your name. But rather than fill him in on that fascinating tidbit, you let the sentence die off.

He smiles kindly anyway, “What are you doing in here? Party’s out there, or so they tell me.”

“I…I’m hiding in here,” you admit sheepishly.

He leans in towards you slightly, lowering his voice. “I’ll let you in on a secret—so am I,” he smiles at you like it’s easy.

Your grin matches his, “It’s your party,”

“That’s why I need to hide.” He tilts his head, “Doesn’t give you much of an excuse though, does it?”

“I don’t know anybody here.”

He puckers his bottom lip contemplatively, “Your boss.”

You shake your head, “I’m just his assistant. I’m pretty sure he just brought me as a precaution in case he needed a designated driver.”

He laughs at that, “Based on the way I’ve seen Mullins’ attempts to operate, his assistant would have to be a hell of a lot more important than just a designated driver.”

Well, he’s certainly right about that. Your boss doesn’t exactly “have it together” per se. He’s an unorganized man with little to justify his importance in Gotham, so he tends to insist on taking on more responsibility than he has any business having. Not to mention, he’s a bit of a try-hard and you’re constantly left to sweep up the pieces of his reputation that he shattered himself. Not to say he’s necessarily unprofessional, he just will do anything and everything to prove he belongs in any given space. It’s honestly a bit exhausting to watch. It’s more exhausting to try and convince him that the exchange went well afterwards.

You nod slowly, eyes on his shoes. “Mr. Mullins has…a unique approach to business. It does usually leave me fairly busy, I’ll give you that.” You take a quick deep breath, plastering on a fake smile. “But that means I occasionally get to go to fancy parties where I don’t know anyone, so..”

“Well then it sounds like you’ve got it all worked out,” he ribs, “Or don’t you agree?”

You smile coyly, “I would never be so bold.”

“I don’t mind boldness. For example, the reason I came in here is because he spotted me.”

You laugh at that, “Mr. Wayne—”

“Bruce.”

“Mr. Wayne,” you suppress your smile as you pause, choosing your words carefully. “I think he’s just networking.” He doesn’t have the money to give.

He nods surely, “He’s definitely just networking.” He really doesn’t have the money to give. You allow just the faintest wisp of a smile to adorn your face as you look down again.

You check the time and realize that you’ve been hiding away for too long and that if he hasn’t already, your boss will notice soon. You sigh quietly to yourself, “I should..”

He turns his head to the closed door where the chatter can be heard from beyond, sighing in defeat as he shakes his head looking back at you. “So should I.”

You feel a bit insecure as you stand, the gown you’re wearing is pretty but it is very much affordable and you’re sure someone as wealthy as Bruce Wayne would know the difference.

If he does notice he makes no deal of it, motioning you forward gallantly to walk ahead of him.

He follows after you, hands behind his back. “Would it be rude of me to ask you to distract him while I run for the bar?”

It’s busy, even for a Sunday afternoon, and you have to sidestep past someone nearly every step you take. You stick next to the windows of the line of boutiques down the road, trying to balance window shopping and not bumping into other pedestrians.

You're in a nicer district of Gotham, truthfully an area you don't quite belong in. So far you’ve only managed to find a couple shops that weren’t several ranges above your budget.

A call of your name has you blinking rapidly and turning around as if you’re lost. It doesn’t take long for you to pick the six foot two billionaire out of the crowd and it’s only half a second longer before you realize he’s walking towards you. A few people collide shoulders with you as they move past thoughtlessly, no regard for the personal space of the idiot that stopped in the flow of traffic.

You let him approach a couple feet closer before you ask him, “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Wayne?” The presence of his figure in front of you allows for a break from being bumped into, as he seemingly makes for a far more easily seen and intentionally avoided target.

He sways a bit, “Bruce. I’m not sure yet,” he looks down to the couple of bags you’re holding, extending his hand out. “May I?”

It takes you just a moment to move past your surprise at the request, allowing him to hold them for you. “Are you in a rush?”

You shake your head quicker than you meant to, “No, I—not at all,” he gestures his head forward, allowing you to walk before him.

You traipse ahead in silence for a moment before deciding against biting your tongue, “What exactly is it you’re not sure about?”

He raises his voice a bit so you can hear him over the crowd, “Whether or not you’ve got plans on the 19th.”

You look back at him, “What’s on the 19th?”

He stops with you as you admire a set of jewelry inside a window display, “We’re hosting a gala for something or something else, hopefully less boring than the fundraiser.”

You blink, “You’re inviting me?” He nods. “Why?”

“I could use someone who wants to be there even less than I do.”

He said it so casually it takes you a second to even register his meaning. You blink, face contorting defensively, “That’s not—” you can barely make out the smile on his face as he continues on walking.

You shake your composure back together and trail after him, rushing to catch up. “I don’t think Mr. Mullins would be very happy to hear that I’m attending a business gala without him.”

He shakes his head as he scans over the crowd, “He can’t fire you for that.”

“He’ll try.” He would. A petty little man, he is.

He scans across the rows of clothes leisurely. “Well, then he can speak to me about it. Besides, it wouldn’t be for business.” And then he just lets that sentence linger.

It takes you a moment to recover from those words and begin to start processing the world around you again. After a few more feet down the sidewalk he pulls you gently to the side by your lower arm, out of the rush of traffic, and looks at you dead on, “What do you think?”

You try not to waver under the weight of the eye contact, “I don’t…uh, I don’t really have…” you look down, hoping to get the message across without actually having to say the words.

He glances into the store window next to you and raises his eyebrows, “Well then I’d say we’re in the right place.”

You can’t manage to tell him that this store is definitely far too expensive for you, walking through the door as he opens it for you, albeit apprehensively.

Well. Up close window shopping is more fun anyways.

The spotless white of the floors and walls has you intimidated, and just as much so by less by the no doubt designer clothes lining the walls. The saleswomen all look pretty highbrow themselves, hair up in tight buns and uniforms chic.

You only break from gawking at the store to look behind you at Bruce. You note the way his eyes roam around blindly, looking for something and clearly having no means to narrow down where it might be. You take one more glance around, immediately finding the women's section with no such difficulty.

“This way.” You say, nodding your head over to the left. He recovers nicely and lets you lead the way towards the section of dresses. You peer back at him, “You don’t seem like someone that does much of his own shopping.”

Thankfully, he laughs at that. “Well, special occasions.”

You keep your gaze ahead this time, asking as casually as you can, “Is this a special occasion?”

He hums in consideration, “I’d say so.”

You stop upon approaching the dress section, taking in the immediately stunning display of options.

“What are you doing up here anyways?” you ask, hand brushing across a particularly plush dress.

“Ah, I was headed to a meeting.”

“Oh,” you frown, looking at him. “Don’t you need to go?”

He shakes his head with a puckered lower lip, “No.”

A few seemingly heiresses roam down the aisle mindlessly, not caring much that you’re in their path.

Bruce sees them before you do, knowing well that they were not going to excuse themselves. “Sweetheart,” he nudges you gently to the side, closer to him as the group passes. His hand remained open-palmed and flat as he guided you to the side, seemingly very careful not to touch you with uninvited boldness. Though you’re quite shaken by the chivalry of the gesture, a brazen touch wouldn’t have been the worst thing in the world.

As your arm brushes against a rack of clothing your gaze follows, met with something rather appealing.

Bruce is quick to notice you admiring the sleek black dress that looks like something you’d see a model wearing on a runway. “You like that one?”

“It’s nice, yeah,” you murmur, not really thinking. You flip the price tag over and your face drops. “It’s $800.”

He nods thoughtfully, “We can find a nicer one,” he says, though it’s clear he knows exactly what your problem with the price tag was.

“I can’t—” you restart, “I would never have a reason to wear something this nice again.”

He shakes his head coolly, “That’s alright.”

Your shoulders drop and your head tilts seriously, “It’s not, though.”

“You like it?” He looks you in the eyes, his own searching for a truthful answer.

“I mean, of course, but it—”

He nods affirmatively, “Then we’ll get it. Problem solved.” He turns his back to the rack, casually observing the rest of the store goers. “Pick your size.”

Apparently not one to argue, you thumb through the row until you find one that should fit.

You sigh, realizing that you’re running out of time to mention that you don’t have $800 to spend on a dress. “I can’t—”

“You don’t need to,” he says simply as he takes the dress off the rack and drapes it across his arm, making his way towards the salescounter.

You try to stop your mouth from hanging open as you follow, “It really is okay, I don’t need—”

His grin cuts you off, just in time for you to hear him mutter, “Sweet girl..” to himself. You stop right in your tracks, feeling very thankful that he’s not looking at you right now because you’re certain the look on your face would give you away.

He still doesn’t face you as he calls out, “Come on,” as he continues on.

Obviously you’re not stupid. You know what type of intentions a billionaire playboy must have with a younger girl that he doesn’t even really know. However, if said billionaire is offering to buy you a pretty dress…no, you’re not sleeping with him because he bought you a dress—of course not—and you’ve made absolutely no promises to do so, so what’s the harm in letting him? Really?

And yeah, maybe it’s a plus that he’s not bad looking, but how is that your fault?

You stand a bit awkwardly next to him as he puts his card in the machine, not even glancing at the outrageous number, and declines the offer for the receipt.

As you exit the store together and stand at the doors as he hands your original two bags back to you along with the new shiny black one that on its own looks like something people would pay for.

“You will be there?” he asks, eyes more hopeful than you were prepared for.

You nod, gesturing the bag up, “Well you just bought me the dress.”

He shrugs that off, “I would’ve bought you the dress anyways.”

You linger in the midst of the ado wearing a dress that you feel far too overshadowed by, fidgeting with the half empty wine glass in your hand. Unfortunately, this time around you were invited by the host of the event and it would be extra rude to run away and hide. That doesn’t stop you from considering it, though.

A hand sliding across your lower back has you momentarily startled, and for reasons you couldn’t quite verbalize, you’d naturally assumed it was Bruce. The disappointment rings strong when you turn around to be met with the sight of an even older man, who looks considerably wine drunk.

“Hello there, Miss.,” The words themselves are polite but the salacious smile on his face and the way his eyes have no trouble roaming your body gives you a solid idea of what this conversation is going to entail.

“Hello,” you fake a polite, tight smile and shift your attention to the rest of the room.

This does nothing to deter him, as he takes a sizable step back into your line of sight. “Having a nice time?”

The man is clearly from money, if his attire didn’t give it away his attitude sure did. There’s an heir of entitlement around him, like he’s inherently deservant of your attention—a quality you were notably surprised to not have found in Bruce.

You give him your faux-smile again, this time tighter but half a second longer for the sake of politeness. A rookie mistake.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asks, gesturing to the bar.

“I’m okay, thank you,” you say, gesturing your wine glass up.

A momentary flash of irritation crosses his face, but to his credit, he does a better job recovering from it than you would have expected. Though, that’s not really saying much. “Well, pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be all alone here,”

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” Both of your heads snap to the side, finding a much more welcome surprise than you’d previously received.

Your counterpart's posture straightens immediately, “Mr. Wayne,” he fawns, “What a lovely event you’ve thrown. I’m sure the Bernsteins will be appreciative.”

Bruce hums, eyes narrowed slightly. “You are…”

The man startles and rushes to finish off his sentence, “Alexander Watson, senior executive to the accounting department for the research wing of the company.”

He nods slowly, no recognition actually present in his eyes. “Ah. The research wing of the company that just blew fifteen million dollars on prototype self-operating cell phones.”

You’re trying hard to fight the smile creeping up on your face.

“What exactly is a self-operating cell phone?”

Watson’s face drops, hurrying to justify his approval of the proposal’s funding. As he rambles, Bruce’s gaze lowers to where Watson has once again placed his hand on your hip, though he’s not close enough to you for it to rest fully or naturally. You don’t know him well but you can say confidently that he doesn’t look pleased.

He looks back up to Watson, attitude challenging. “Surely you’re not poking around where you’re unwelcome?”

Watson stutters at that, blinking and shaking his head quickly. “No, no, of course not! I was just hoping to provide the young lady with some company. That’s all.”

“And so you have.”

“I—,” about two steps behind in this conversation, Watson finally decides to retreat, “Yes, good evening, Mr. Wayne.” He bows his head and shuffles away back into the crowd.

“Mr. Wayne,” you smile knowingly, turning to him. “How are you?”

The hardness of his gaze fades quickly as he takes in your appearance, quite liking how you wear the dress you’d picked out.

“Things are looking up,” he smiles, “You look lovely.”

“Thank you,” you glance over to where Watson has made his way to the bar, likely about to down an entire glass. “Mr., uh, Mr. Watson makes quite the impression.”

His smile turns a bit sullen, “You know last year he tried to convince the board that battery-powered battery chargers were going to be the next big thing?”

You blink, tilting your head, “Thought you didn’t know who he was.”

His eyes are fixed on the wall as he tugs the corner of his lip down, knowing he’s been caught but not really caring. “I’m sorry to have been away for so long, it seems everyone needs my attention at these things.”

“At the gala that you threw? I’d imagine so.”

He rolls past that smoothly, “You’re having a good time?”

“I am,” you say with a confirming head bob.

He regards the room with a numb expression, “You know, I think I’m getting bored with all of this.”

You smile at him, brow furrowed, “It’s only been an hour.”

He looks at you, eyes wide. “It’s only been an hour?” He’s exaggerating his surprise to make you smile, and it works.

“I think we should go,” he says lower.

You stare at him, bemused. “You still have a whole room full of guests.”

He shrugs, “They’ll filter out on their own eventually.”

He clocks your hesitation easily, accurately noting it to be more out of politeness than actually wanting to stay at the party. “What, you’re not ready to leave?”

You look around at all the mostly old, posh guests, disinterested small talk evident all across the room. You take a breath, “Alright, yeah. Let’s go.”

He smiles and leads you out a side door and through a corridor that’s significantly longer than you’d expected.

“Do you always ditch your parties this early?” you ask, following closely.

He makes a sharp right at the next doorway, “If I can manage it.”

You look around at the high wooden ceilings and grand furniture. “Aren’t some of them friends of yours?”

He shakes his head, “My friends aren’t here.”

You frown at that, “Then why do you throw them at all?”

“Why did you show up last weekend?”

You nod slowly, understanding. “It’s your job.”

He returns the nod, adding, “Only difference is, there’s not a chance in hell you get paid enough for the work you do for Mullins.”

For the sake of maintaining your wishful facade of professionalism, you’re going to not acknowledge that incredibly accurate statement. Instead you smile politely and continue on walking. He seems to get the implication, returning it with an even brighter adornment.

“Well, money’s money,” you say wryly.

His smile fades a bit, “You shouldn’t have to worry about things like that.”

You shrug, “A day in the life,”

He looks sullen upon hearing that, with more sympathy than you’d have expected from someone of his stature. He’s done nothing if not surprise you, though.

“Here,” he says, taking hold of the handle of a glass door. It opens to a garden, lit up beautifully by the moon and outdoor light. A fountain sits in the middle, water rhythmically gushing out of the top and trickling down the sides. The bite of the Gotham night air burns at your cheeks a bit and you find yourself thankful the dress you’d chosen is so long.

Bruce leads the way to an expensive marble bench positioned nicely in front of it, allowing you to sit first before following suit. Your hands find a place in your lap, clasped together awkwardly in an attempt to find warmth through contact.

It takes Bruce less than ten seconds to stand, remove his suit jacket, and drape it over your shoulders before sitting back down. The material is thicker and warmer than you would’ve expected, surely reminiscent of the perks of being owned by a billionaire.

He doesn’t look at you to acknowledge the grateful expression on your face, simply carrying on like it didn’t happen. “Was hoping it was warmer,” he murmurs.

Your focus momentarily goes to the icy cold stone of the bench under your thighs, initially finding it uncomfortable before deciding the coolness actually felt quite soothing. You remove your gaze from the gray stone and turn your head to find Bruce already focused on you.

You start to say something, though you’re not sure what it would’ve been, when he brushes his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down.

Well, he certainly knows what he’s doing, doesn’t he?

His eyes stay on your lower lip as he murmurs, “You’re a pretty girl, you know that?”

God, he’s a professional.

You look up at him and refrain from saying anything, waiting to see if he follows it up with something that will make you regret agreeing to coming out here with him.

He doesn’t.

You shift, moving your hands off your lap to rest on the stone under you. “You can’t just do this—”

He smiles and lowers his chin to look you in the eyes, “Then what can I do for you?”

“You—” you blink rapidly, “Stop it.”

His coy beam persists, “Stop what?”

You raise your gaze up to him ever so slightly, a pouty expression across your face that you’re trying to sell as serious. “You’re trying to make me nervous.”

“Do I make you nervous?” He tilts his head down further, a ghost of a smile echoing on his lips, “I don’t mean to, sweet girl.”

Your eyes drop to the ground, biting your tongue. “Yeah.”

His simper grows, “I’m serious. I’d hate to scare away a new friend.”

You laugh at that and he perks up a bit at the sound, “What? We’re not friends?”

You cock your head to the side, “You’re the one who said none of your friends are here.”

He hums, “Maybe I spoke too soon.”

“You think so?” You should probably stop flirting so much.

“Yeah,” he leans in a bit closer, “I do.”

“Why’s that?”

“Maybe I want to be your friend,” his hand finds a place atop yours.

Your eyes flicker across his face as he closes in, “What if I don’t want to be yours?”

His eyes are on your lips, “I’m sure we can work something out.”

You take a slow deep breath, “Your intentions are blurry.”

He smiles lightly, amused. “We’ll have to clear that up then, won’t we?” His lips are inches away and his voice is soft as he says, “I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”

You look up at him eyes wide, barely processing his words as you nod. He gently grasps your jaw in his hand, tilting your head up. His other hand finds the back of your head, holding you in place as he kisses you with intention. Your hands hover in the air for a second before holding onto his forearms.

He breaks the kiss only to give you another sweet one right after. Your mouths remain close when it’s over, eyes still shut, trying to catch your breath. You stay like that for a moment until he kisses you once more on your cheekbone before pulling away. His hands drop to rest on your knees, the weight of them gentle.

He hums lowly, “Sweet thing..”

Being under the heaviness of his gaze leaves you feeling vulnerable. It’s starting to get you concerned with the potential levity and implications of kissing him. The expectations.

“You…” you stare down at where his hands meet your skin, not quite sure that you actually meant to start that sentence.

“What?” he frowns, brow pinched. Your chin lowers further as your mouth forms a tight line. He shakes his head, “No, it’s alright. What is it?” he asks gently.

It takes a surge of willpower for you to get the sentence out, “You just want to sleep with me..”

He frowns harder at that, pulling back a bit. “No. I’m…” he sighs, “I’m not trying to lure you in just to toss you out right after.”

That makes you look up again. His voice has a sincerity to it that you weren’t prepared for.

He continues, “I would like to, yes. Yeah. You’re beautiful, of course I would, but..” he looks down at his hands before looking back up at you, “No, that’s not the most important thing to me.”

You break eye contact again, thinking over his words. If that’s not the most important thing to him, what is? You can’t think of what else he could possibly want from you, a billionaire who could have anything he wants..the only thing you could have to offer in his eyes is sex.

Right?

He exhales, “If you want to leave, I’ll call you a car. No hard feelings.” He nudges your chin up gently so you’ll look at him, but he gives you the freedom to fight against it if you wanted to.

You let him move you.

“I don’t want to leave,” you tell him, looking into his eyes. “What do you want?”

“Whatever you want,” he says it like it’s automatic. You physically can’t help but roll your eyes at the corniness of it. He doubles down, though, “Seriously. Anything.”

You smile in disbelief, shaking your head.

“Alright,” he returns your smile, straightening, “Here’s what we’re going to do. Do you need a ride home?”

You blink at him, “I’m going home?”

“You are,” he nods softly, “Do you need a ride?”

“No.”

He nods again, more like he’s working through something in his head. “Okay. You’re going to go home and think through what you want. If you decide you want to, come back here next Saturday.” he stands up, extending his hand out to you, “Then you can let me know what else you want and we can get to work on that too.”

You start to shake your head, “I can—”

He drops his chin seriously, “Think on it.”

You relent easily, taking his hand and coming to a stand.

“Alright?” Again, his question is genuine. He does really want to know if you’re on board with this plan.

Already going against his request, you agree without a thought, “Okay.”

He starts to lead you back over to the garden door with a head nod and a kind smile.

It ultimately was not a decision you had to think very hard on.

You’d considered every scenario of how this could play out and none of them ended with regret as far as you could guess.

You’ll still admit though, there was one scenario you had missed, apparently, which is why you were immeasurably confused when you showed up and he invited you to play chess.

He’s not wearing a fancy three piece suit this time, but his clothes are still very nice. With the sunlight peeking through the windows, you’re able to see the manor more clearly than you had been the other night. It really is a beautiful home, clearly very old and charmed, but there’s a lot of little details of character and history scattered around. There’s portraits and photographs of his parents from when he was young and furniture decorated with trinkets all throughout, kept absolutely spotless and dust free. Everything is neat and tidy but there’s still traces of the house being lived in with the patched throw pillows and worn carpets. Still, it’s very, very placid.

You’ve met new money plenty of times over the course of dealing with countless businessmen for Mr. Mullins but old money is something entirely different. You don’t really have a frame of reference here. New money is almost always brash and demanding, they like things done quickly and correctly the first time around. They’re usually not very interested in hearing what you have to say (even if it would save them a lot of trouble) and prefer it when the assistants women keep their mouths shut. Bruce has proven to be very different from these standards already and you’re not sure where to begin with placing new ones.

You’re about halfway through a second game, and while you’re not awful at chess, you get the impression that he’s easing up on you considerably.

You sit on the floor in front of a short coffee table, the game having no clear lead so far.

“I think this is stressing me,” you mumble, no actual weight behind your words.

“It’s just chess,” he says, not looking up from the board.

You watch him move his knight forward as you ask, “And that’s all we’re doing?”

“As it stands, yes,” he looks up at you, though you don’t return his gaze.

“Yeah,” you sigh, sliding your rook, “But later?”

“Later?”

“Well, you said...” you meet his eyes, “You said you wanted to sleep with me.”

He nods slowly, “I do. Is that alright?”

You consider it for a moment. You already knew that, if you really weren’t okay with it you wouldn’t have come here. And yeah, the idea makes you a little shaky, but in a good way.

“Yes,” you tell him, moving your queen forward two spaces.

“Are you sure?” he presses, moving to sit on the side of the table rather than behind it.

You do the same, sitting on your knees. “Yeah, I just..” you shift your weight, eyes wandering. “I’m not…overly experienced.”

He just smiles at that, like it’s endearing. Your words didn’t quite convey your meaning but your tone did. In any case, he understands the implication. “That’s alright, sweetheart. I’m not going to throw you in the deep end.”

You nod, looking down again.

“You’re nervous,” he comments.

“No, I’m—I mean, maybe,” your voice is barely a murmur by the end of the sentence.

He’s quiet for a moment, observing the way you fiddle with your rings. “What if we get you something pretty to wear? Something that makes you feel pretty. Whatever you want.”

He fishes his wallet out of his pocket, opening and pulling out a lump of cash without even looking. He holds the money out to you wordlessly and you can see from the bill on the outside that it’s at least a couple hundred dollars.

You shake your head instantly, “I can’t take that.”

He doesn’t put the money down but his eyes turn to begging. “Please. I just want you to feel good.”

“Bruce—”

He wavers a bit at that but it’s more of a falter than you’ve seen from him before so it’s easy to take notice of. “What?”

He shrugs barely, “I like when you say my name.”

Your eye contact holds for a moment and your resolve starts to shake almost instantly.

You exhale, “I’m not taking more than a hundred.”

“Two hundred.”

“Bruce.”

He smiles and picks out some of the cash and pockets it, handing you the rest. You don’t comment on the fact that it’s a hundred and fifty more than you’d agreed on.

You look down at the money in your hand like it’s a foreign object, shaking your head. “I don’t even know what to get.”

His thumbs start to rub reassuring circles by the bend of your knees, “Anything you want,” he tells you. “What do you like? Silk, lace, cotton, anything.”

You look up, tilting your head at him with a furrowed brow. “It doesn’t matter what I like, th—”

“It only matters what you like,” He says seriously, lowering himself to meet your gaze. “I’ll love it, no matter what you pick. Don’t worry about that.”

You lean forward a bit instinctually, “Okay.”

His eyes scan across your face in something that you can only recognize as awe.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you whisper.

“I want to kiss you again,” he says, voice even quieter.

Your eyes go to his mouth and you can only manage a nod, lips already parted.

He moves forward not a second later, kissing you with more fire than you’d gotten to see the other night. His hands grab at your waist, squeezing lightly as you hook one hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

You hear the clatter of chess pieces falling over as he moves nearer to you, large frame leaning over you. You push up on your knees, meeting his lips up at his level. His hands caress around your hips as the kiss gets deeper.

You just start to fumble with the hem of his shirt when he takes your hands in his, pulling them away before breaking the kiss.

“Easy, sweet girl,” he smiles, nudging you back with little force.

You groan, “Why?”

He barks out a laugh at that, stroking your hips again. “I’m not fucking you for the first time on the floor.”

“Then let's go somewhere else,” you nod up towards the stairs.

He shakes his head, that soft smile still playing on his lips. “Not tonight.”

You sit back on your heels again, frowning.

He brushes your hair back, murmuring, “No. But for now, I'll kiss you ‘til you can’t think if that’s what you want.”

You really hope you didn’t perk up at that as much as you think you did.

part two

🌾🌽 i heard a rumor that if you like without reblogging your crops will be cursed but hey what do i know 🌾🌽

7K notes · View notes

sttoru · 5 months ago

Text

[ 𝐈 𝐁𝐄𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐎𝐆𝐒 ]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. the king of curses cannot fight off his primal urges and thus you suffer the consequences.

tags. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. smut, angst (w/ comfort), p.orn with mostly plot. mäting press. choking. rough like.. condescendingly rough. objectification. toxic relationship? yes. small hint of creampiē. double cawks. reader gets called ‘slut, girl, woman’ wc: 3.9k

“look at that slutty cunt takin’ my cock. think i wanna try fitting both at once in that lil’ hole. keh,” sukuna grunts as he looks down at you from above. your legs are burning from being folded in half—matter of fact—your entire body is aching.

any normal person would call out their safeword in a situation like this. you’re overwhelmed to the point that your brain doesn’t know what to do. you’re experiencing euphoria, yet feel like your doom is right around the corner.

you’re playing with fire whenever you’re intimate with the king of curses.

it’s too addictive to stop. being his favorite concubine has given you enough motivation to push through any difficulties. any discomfort your body feels, is automatically discarded and replaced with drowning pleasure. it’s like sukuna has put a spell on you; one that’s unbreakable.

“fffnghh—my lord,” you gasp for air as one of his big hands wrap tightly around your throat. your airway is blocked, nearly crushed by sukuna’s immense force. you get a flashback to the last time he’s choked you, how sukuna nearly lost control of his own strength.

your eyes are watery as your insides follow each thrust. back and forth, in and out. it is a simple rhythm, but you cannot get enough. the harsh and sticky echoes of skin slapping against skin are nearly ear deafening. his heavy balls bounce against the plush flesh of your ass with every move, ready to unload everything they’ve stored.

“shut up,” sukuna spits, looking down at you like you’re but a mere insect. perhaps you were exactly that to him in the heat of the moment. his red eyes show that he’s losing himself. that cruel yet greedy look only intensifies with the second, “you only speak when y’re spoken to—or did y’ forget your damn place?”

you swallow your words and resort to simple moaning after you apologise, “i’m sorry, m’lord.” your blurry vision creates a trippy illusion, giving sukuna eight arms and eyes. not only are you seeing double, the feeling of ecstasy is twice as strong. you feel like you’re being ripped apart from the inside.

you can’t speak about it. you’re not allowed to open your mouth unless it’s to moan or breathe. perhaps even the latter is too much to ask. your fingers shake as they wrap around sukuna’s wrist. you try to tug at the hand that is wrapped around your throat, but your strength is gone.

your body is shaking violently with each thrust. you can’t keep up with anything that’s happening. you’re unable to process the feeling of sukuna’s second cock trying to prod its way into your cunt as well. you’re going to break — he’s going to break you.

you want to speak up and tell him you can’t take both in the same hole at once. it’s an impossible task; one can’t even fit that easily. he’s girthy and got an immense length, an inhuman one you’ve never seen before. you swear you can feel him in your tummy. the tip feeling like it's nestled right underneath your belly button.

sukuna scoffs as you tighten up around his lower cock. you’re weak; a weak human who he can’t seem to get out of his mind. he wants to exploit that obedience of yours today—to ruin you mentally and physically.

he can’t ignore those urges to ruin that what causes him weakness. he wishes to regain the power over himself again. that can only be done by consuming you, removing you from existence.

“i can’t fuckin’ stand you,” sukuna growls, his eyes darkening beyond imagination, “y’re always in the way.” you’re scared of the king of curses, which rarely happens. the last time you were afraid of his monstrous aura was during your first encounter in the woods. his manly hand squeezes your throat until you’re genuinely struggling to breathe.

there’s an unmistakable sense of danger boiling in your guts. this is the real nature of the curse named ryomen sukuna. the man above you, who’s drilling his cock into you while you’re suffering, is the real deal.

the true face of the man you thought you knew.

“i’m gonna get rid of you, y’hear? after this, y’re nothing,” sukuna pants, sweat droplets falling onto your cheeks from above. he looks like he’s internally fighting with himself. the expression on his face tells you enough. you want to reach a hand out towards his cheek and hold it.

he looks beautiful, even when he spews such serious threats at you. your cunt is burning and holding tightly onto his cock, even when you realise it may break you.

you’ve stayed for so long with him, even when you know you’ll one day die at his side or by his hands.

locks of his pink hair stick to his forehead. sweat rolls down those black tattoos. all four red eyes are burning with a carnal desire to claim you as his property—to destroy you like his property. as is his right. that’s the only way to satiate that overwhelming feeling inside of sukuna.

whenever you’re around him, he finds himself drawn by your presence. he wants you to stay by his side all day, and if you aren’t, it’s like gravity is pulling him towards you. sukuna despises it—he craves to possess you, yet also get rid of your entire being. that way he can return to his normal self. the monster he's known as.

“i’ll throw ya away—gonna get a new toy to spend more time with,” the king of curses digs his nails into the back of your knees. the tip of his upper cock glides back and forth over your clit, teasing the bundle of nerves until it’s burning. you’re losing yourself in both pleasure and pain.

the hurtful words don’t seem to affect you. you still look up at him like he’s your everything—like he’s the reason you exist. sukuna turns furious the moment he notices that his threats don’t seem to work. you’re impossible and he hates that which he cannot control.

he cuts off any air that may enter your lungs. your eyes widen and your fingers tug at his wrist so he’d let loose, but alas. you’re going to lose consciousness without a doubt. tears stream down your cheeks, though not because of the hopelessness you’re feeling.

“i do not need you anymore,” sukuna says gruffly, trying to convince himself of that statement as well. he never needed anyone else during his entire lifetime, so why would he need you? he can replace you with any another woman.

your body goes limp. sukuna’s voice is muffled as you enter a state of half consciousness. you’re at the bridge between life and death. your eyes catch a glimpse of the faint struggle in his eyes.

he looks like a monster through and through, visibly acting like one too. though you’re able to catch a glimpse of an underlying vulnerability. that part of him that always shows itself when you two are alone—making you feel special because you’re the only one allowed to witness it.

you crack a faint, weak smile. even if you perish right then and there, it’s going to be at the hands of the man you’ve learnt to love. the sorcerer who’s made you feel on top of the world, without him realising it. you’ll forever be thankful for the moments you’ve spent together.

you’ll never forget the times where sukuna has made you feel safe in those same arms that will now be your death.

a tear slides down your temple. you look sukuna in the eyes while you’re seconds away from meeting your end. you show no signs of struggle as he gives you your final command;

“die.”

you close your eyes. your fingers loosen their grip around sukuna’s wrist before you let your hand fall at your side. you’ve accepted your fate with a weary smile, honored to have sukuna be the last thing you see, “understood, my lord.”

you’ve lost feeling in all limbs and your eyelids droop. all you can do is await for death to come collect your soul. it’s dark and you can’t hear a thing anymore. you’re confused when the burning sensation in your lungs returns.

your eyes fly open the moment some oxygen is able to reach your airway again. the harsh fingers around your neck have disappeared, though not without leaving aching marks. you clutch your chest as it hurts to breathe after not being able to for the longest time.

you gasp and cough uncontrollably. you wince and blink the tears away from your eyes, refocusing your vision on the large stature detaching from your side. you’re bewildered to say the least—not realising the reason behind sukuna’s sudden change of heart. he’s sworn to get rid of you, didn’t he?

he told you to die and yet he let you live.

“fuck,” the king of curses groans after he snapped out of the dangerous state he was in. he’s panting snd staring at the hand that was once wrapped around your throat. he’s not looking at you at all.

you feel him pull out which makes you hiss. you sit up, the adrenaline helping your tired body move itself. sukuna is silent, with no emotions apparent on his face. however one thing you can conclude for sure is that he’s caught off guard by his own actions.

he can’t get it out of his head. the vision of you laying beneath him, accepting your doom as told. even on the brink of death, you oblige. you accept his every word. why? sukuna’s head is filled with unanswered questions.

you’re an enigma that he cannot solve.

“out of the way, girl,” sukuna easily shoves you to the side with one hand. he’s still not looking you in the eyes. he refuses to look in the eyes of the one woman whom he tried to kill. the sole woman who seems to accept him for who he is.

you’re the only one who’s able to understand him and yet he tried to get rid of you. perhaps he’s afraid of being understood and accepted. sukuna is fine on his own—there’s no need for anyone by his side.

you manage to get your breathing under control after a couple seconds. you’re still hyperventilating, but it’s getting better. your body shakes as you cover yourself with the sheets, your hair messily covering your vision. you reach a hand out to sukuna, curious about what’s gotten into him, “i’m, ngh- are you okay, m—”

“i said, get out,” the man raises his voice before harshly grabbing your wrist. sukuna pushes you towards the exit of his chambers. you stumble forward and manage to catch yourself by grabbing onto the nearest wall. everything is happening so fast.

you simply nod and grab your robes from the floor. you hurriedly cover yourself before stepping out of the room. you fall to your knees not two steps away into the hallway. your hand flies up to your neck, touching it as if making sure that you’re still alive.

you can’t believe sukuna spared you. if he changed his mind one second later than he originally had, you’d be a lost cause.

tears well up in your eyes as the gravity of the situation settles in. you may have accepted your fate in the heat of the moment, but now that it’s over, you’re left trembling on your own. you can’t shake off that intense look in sukuna’s eyes as he pounded you into the mattress.

he was hungry for your soul. to consume you and not leave any of your bones—to get rid of you so you’re out of his sight and mind.

you sniffle and can’t bring yourself to stand up. you’ve lost strength in your legs because the adrenaline levels in your body have dropped. you slowly crawl over the floor and hope that no one catches you in a pitiful state like this.

you manage to get a couple metres away, though soon find yourself staring at a pair of socks that come into view. you lift your head and the owner of the tabi eventually appears in sight.

“uraume,” your voice is hoarse. you make eye contact with sukuna’s personal chef as they stand before you, their expression unreadable.

the sigh they let out tells you that they’ve expected such an outcome since long ago. without a word, they reach a hand out and help you up.

. . .

it’s been a week since then. uraume has helped you recover from that unfortunate experience. the other concubines didn’t dare talk to you. they’ve noticed the change in sukuna’s behavior after that night he spent with you.

he’s gone on more rampages than he usually does. he’s been killing innocent servants who walked past him while on duty, and visiting nearby villages only to commit mass destruction. his emotions are uncontrollable at this point and no one has a clue on what to do.

the best option is to stay out of sukuna’s sight. and not to mess with you, just in case.

you’ve personally tried to approach him a couple times, but either chicken out or get totally ignored. you really want to talk it out, though it may seem impossible. you’ve evaded death once, you’re not sure if you can do that twice.

you’re currently sitting on a bench in the courtyard as uraume is applying an ointment to your throat. your neck still hurts with every move you make. the strength of sukuna’s hand is not to be underestimated, you know that.

you flinch as they rub the cold liquid over your achy skin. it helps numbing the pain, which is god sent for when you want to sleep. you can easily rest without having to suffer the unbearable discomfort in your neck muscles.

it’s a bit quiet in the garden. it isn’t unusual for uraume to be silent, but you’re aching to talk about what’s bothering you. of course, the oh-so-important subject includes no one other than the king of curses.

you sigh and start rambling about your failed attempts to reconcile your relationship with sukuna. you’re getting frustrated and sad at the situation. you want nothing more than to go back to how things were—with you receiving special treatment.

you miss his voice, his touches, his hair, his skin, his muscles, his eyes, his hugs. . . it’s all too much to bear with. you want the sukuna you know back. you don’t care if he tried to get rid of you. you’ve long understood that it was his primal, unspoken urges that had taken over his brain.

“i don’t know.. he doesn’t want to talk to me nor see me,” you shrug and pout. uraume nods and tilts your chin back gently to get the ointment in every little cranny. you stare up at the bright blue sky, the gentle breeze being comforting, both mentally and physically.

your ears pick up on footsteps behind you. heavy footsteps which you recognise as sukuna’s. you whip your head to the side, perhaps a bit too fast, causing the pain in your neck muscles to return. you hear uraume sigh as they see their hard work go to waste in under a split second.

your eyes are focused on sukuna’s large stature filling out the layout of the garden. uraume politely bows at their master after taking a few steps away from you. they don’t lift their head as sukuna walks past you both.

he doesn’t spare you a glance. it’s like you’re not there at all. you frown and pout, though know better than to make a fool out of yourself and speak up. you watch the man walk into the main building of the estate, his sharp eyes focused on the path ahead, his hands resting inside the sleeves of his black kimono.

once sukuna disappears from your vision, you sigh and slump back against the bench. you look at uraume as they move close to you again, taking a glance at your neck. you huff and cock your head to the entrance of the building, “see! that’s what i mean!”

you’re clearly fed up. you just want to make up. you don’t care about the fact that he nearly killed you in that moment. you simply desire to feel that connection between the two of you again. a complicated relationship with its many ups and downs. it may be toxic, but you crave it.

uraume hums at your worries. they radiate a sense of peace that inevitably calms you down as well. they take a quick glance at the direction where sukuna was last seen. they’ve been serving him ever since decennia back—way before you became his concubine.

they’ve never seen him this conflicted, but they don’t tell you that. uraume looks back at you with a simple nod, trusting that you’ll be fine. if your life has been spared when sukuna was in such an indescribable irrational state of mind, then there’s nothing to worry about.

you’re the only one who’s ever escaped death by his hands. that is an incredible feat by itself.

uraume rubs the oil over your neck again, getting the last spots as they reassure you with one simple sentence; “i’m sure lord sukuna simply requires some time alone.”

. . .

you take uraume’s comment seriously. if sukuna needed time, you’ll give him as much space as possible. and thus it’s been another week ever since then.

it’s a sunday night and you can’t sleep. you get up from your futon and wrap a simple blanket around your body. you can’t be bothered to brush your hair or look proper. no one will be up during this ungodly hour anyway.

you sneak out of your chambers and walk down the long hallways. you slide the door to the courtyard open and step out onto the pavement after putting on your geta. it’s a chilly night with a full moon, perfect weather to take a breather.

you walk around the familiar scenery and crouch down near a patch of flowers. they’re your favorites. sukuna had personally ordered his servants to plant them in the garden after he found out you like them. the memory brings a fond smile to your face.

such small yet meaningful actions never fail to melt your heart. it’s another reason why you want to make up with sukuna. you want to help with whatever he’s struggling with, however you know that man will never accept the aid.

you wish to support him at the very least. you want to show your devotion to him, if that already wasn’t clear to him.

you sigh and stand up. you’re caught up in your own thoughts to realise that someone’s been watching you the entire time. you walk straight forward until you reach the koi pond. you stare at the fish as they float in the clear water.

you wish you could be as carefree as them. you turn around to walk back to your room after it’s getting a bit too cold. you did not expect to bump your head against a hard surface. “ow,” you rub your forehead and look up.

there he stands; the man you’ve been dying to see and speak to. sukuna stares down at you without uttering a word, his sharp eyes finally looking into yours.

“ry— my lord,” you stammer, switching to a more polite stance. you’re thrilled, but the excitement quickly dies down as you remember uraume’s words; he needs time. you don’t want to disturb him, as much as you want to jump into his arms. you bow your head at him, “have a good night.”

your heart hurts as you force yourself away from sukuna. you step away from him and look at the ground as you walk. simply seeing him from up close again has been enough for now. though, your body yearns for more.

a simple touch will suffice. . .

you’re surprised when you feel a tug at the blanket around your shoulders. you stumble back and nearly fall on your bum if it wasn’t for sukuna holding you up. you feel an arm sneak around your waist from behind, surprisingly gentle. much gentle than ever before.

sukuna lowers his head to whisper in your ear. he lets his wet tongue slide over the shell, nibbling at the skin as if reminding himself of your taste, “stay.”

it’s an order, that you can tell. you’re weak for him and thus you obey without a single sign of protest. you feel a sudden sharp sting on the side of your neck which makes you remember what caused it. sukuna seems to notice the same thing.

it’s been getting better, but you still randomly get tingles near your neck area when you move it around too much. you silently push through the pain, which only lasts about a few seconds.

sukuna doesn’t comment on it, but takes a mental note of the sight. he’s recalling that time when you’ve nearly died at his hands. his eyes darken at the memory. he’s been trying to process the fact that he’s lost control over himself. those dark urges had taken over his mind and body, nearly consuming him whole.

they’re still hidden inside him—the desires to possess you, crush you, consume and devour your heart, body and soul. they intensify when you’re with him. it doesn’t happen with anyone else.

sukuna still cannot comprehend why you. what does that feeling in his stomach mean whenever he’s with you? it’s irritating, because it confuses him. confusing things which he doesn’t hold the answer over, annoy the king of curses.

an urge to claim someone as his forever, going as far as to want to consume them, is a new feeling to sukuna. it’s an unhealthy obsession that’s started because of you.

is that what humans call love?

he’s thought about it. perhaps, that is the case. but it must be a different type of love—one that’s so overwhelming that it’s dangerous. for both parties involved.

sukuna sighs. thinking about emotions and feelings isn’t his forte—it never really was. it’s stupid and foolish. and yet sukuna feels like a true king whenever you’re with him. your devotion to him sends shivers down his spine in a good way.

it showed two weeks ago. he saw how you accepted your position; your death. it turns him on to see you so submissive and obedient. maybe that’s also a reason why he nearly lost his mind that day.

lust is a scary thing.

sukuna’s lips avoid your neck. he rests his forehead on top of your shoulder, simply standing still against you from behind. the chilly breeze is long forgotten as his large stature protects you from the cold air. you don’t even need your blanket anymore.

you smile in content as you finally get what you want. you don’t even need an apology. hell—you don’t even need any words. this moment is more than enough to rebuild your relationship with the man behind you.

“y’re not going anywhere, yeah?” sukuna says in a low and possessive tone. it’s another command you follow without hesitation. he’s never going to tell you directly, but the lack of your presence has definitely been felt. now that he has you, his favorite concubine, he’s not going to lose you again. he won’t allow it.

you nod at sukuna’s words with a chuckle. you’re happy to be back in his warm embrace. you know that sukuna isn’t one to talk about his own inner turmoil, so you don’t push it.

those dark urges of his are to be discussed another day, if sukuna allows it. for now, this fleeting moment is more than enough. you reply to his order as you always do, to any command that leaves his lips;

“understood, my lord.”

#sttoru writes.#jjk smut #jjk x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #jjk x you #sukuna x you #jjk x y/n #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna smut #sukuna ryomen smut #jjk angst #sukuna angst

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