#but it looks strange to post it with the split here so its just the full img lol

[r4trave]

MIKU MIKU BEEEEAAAAAMMMM

[chuluoyi]

✎ sick days

- gojo satoru x reader

who holds the fort when you fall sick? of course, it's your lovesick husband and baby!

genre: fluff, fluff, fluffff. basically, your baby is adorable, gojo is your husband and not only is he lovesick with you, he humors your baby so much it’s making me— sighs

note: based on this post! hi hi chu is back from vacation and here’s another dad!gojo fluff indulgence and we stan domestic men okay🤭

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

It's plain sight that Gojo Satoru is a highly attractive individual, and now that he has a son, it's fair to say that he’s the hottest dilf on the block.

With one hand twirling a famous brand of flu medicine box and the other propping his baby son at his hip, he garnered curious eyes, even in drugstore near his home.

“Hmm, why is it so cheap? Suspicious…”

Satoru let out a light hum, studying the orange and pink boxes, as well as glancing at the other purple box with bold labels claiming its effectiveness in halting cold symptoms, and then looked at his son.

His baby's big, crystal blue eyes blinked in wonder at the vibrant colors, and he reached out with grubby hands towards them. “Bwah!”

Suddenly, he got an idea.

“Hey, kiddo. Which do you think is better for mama?” he asked the baby, gesturing at the all three medicine on the rack with his jaw. “You choose.”

As if on cue, the little ball of fluff that was his son immediately reached out for the purple box, the more expensive out of all three displayed before him. Without missing a beat, he also seized both the orange and pink boxes in quick succession, holding them close to his chest.

Satoru broke into a hearty laugh, a wide grin split his face, as he affectionately tousled the boy's head with pride.

“That's my boy! Splurging is allowed—after all, we're rich!”

When the first signs of cold manifested in you, Satoru was already worried. He had warned you to take more rest, but typical you, you brushed it off as a mere fatigue.

And when this morning, you woke up to sudden coughing fits and hot-and-cold spells, which ended up with kicking him out of your shared bedroom in fear of spreading the virus, like the doting husband he was, Satoru promptly headed to the pharmacy with your baby in tow to get you some help.

"Oh my, sir, your son is so adorable!" the female cashier gushed when he got over to pay, finally voicing what other customers thought in their heads. He could sense the discreet glances from those around him even now.

As the baby clung to his shirt, Satoru tightened his grip on him and responded with a self-assured grin, ensuring those nearby heard his words, "Of course he is! My wife is pretty as heck too, shame she's down with fever today."

"Aww! Such high praise, you must adore your wife!"

"Mm-hmm!"

Ah, so he still has a wife. The other customers went about their day, some disappointed that the dilf was still evidently devoted to his wife. They could only wonder just who could the lucky woman was.

Moving on— after the short trip to the drugstore, Satoru went back home. He promptly checked on you in your master bedroom, inquiring, "Hey, how are—"

But he immediately halted upon seeing you nestled so comfortably under the blankets, sleeping soundly. For a moment, he simply stood, blinking and observing your serene slumber.

Strange that something inside him both softened and lurched at the sight. You were just that precious in his eyes. Stupid as it was, he was quite miserable to go through the day without your nagging and nitpicking. And above all, he never liked seeing you in any kind of discomfort—it made his protective instincts soar.

Hence his thought— there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, even if it means sacrificing heaven itself.

“Myah!” A hard shove on his arm and his baby’s babbling snapped him out of his trance. Satoru shifted his baby to his other hand, let out a questioning hum, and affectionately pinched his mochi-like cheeks.

“Hmm? You can’t be hungry, I—oooh,” a sheepish expression of realization appeared on his face, his blue eyes widened slightly as his baby glared at him. Then, chuckling like the goofball he was, Satoru patted him on his head to appease his grudge, “I haven’t fed you since this morning, eh?”

“Fwah!”

“Pfft! There, there… Me is sorry~ Now let me whip something up for you and mama, yeah?”

Now, he wouldn't claim to be the best chef, but he could certainly cook to save himself. Rolling up his sleeve, he went to the kitchen after leaving and stuffing his baby boy with a pacifier on his high chair.

“Hmmm, baby food for the minion and… congee? Yeah, congee should be good.”

Next task was feeding his already seething baby after he mixed together his baby food. He was a fussy eater—mostly with him, but surprisingly not so much with you (apparently, that's just his way of showing who he favors between his parents, heh). But when he managed to get the food in, with every spoonful, his son’s smile gradually widened, and so did his happiness.

Satoru thought then that he was the cutest thing he had ever created. His son was clearly a mini-him, but his reactions were definitely so you.

“Is it tasty? It is, isn’t it?” he cooed with baby voice, earning a delightful giggle in response from his son. Pushing his luck, he added with a suggestive grin, “Papa is the best, isn’t he?”

“Bwah...” The joyful expression on his baby's face faded instantly, dissolving into an unamused pout, prompting Satoru to righteously click his tongue.

“Why are you so against me?!”

After he was done with his fill, Satoru picked your baby up to the master bedroom to bring you something to eat. Seated on the opposite edge of the bed, he silently adored your sleeping form once again.

Right at that moment, the baby in his arms wriggled, reaching out for you. Acting on a sudden impulse, he put him on the bed, facing you.

“Now, go to mama, would you?” he whispered gently, grinning and giving his bum a light pat. “Go!”

Your son was also Gojo Satoru’s son, therefore he was an adept crawler even at barely seven months old. With remarkable agility, the little soldier steadily moved towards you, his diapers jiggling with each motion. He stopped right in front of your face, clearly recognizing you as his mother.

And your husband swore that even his logic-driven heart melted at the sight of your cute baby suddenly leaned in and clumsily smooched your nose.

Simply just the two most treasured loves of his life.

“Mm?” you let out a soft grunt, feeling the dryness in your throat as you cracked your eyes open, surprised to find yourself face-to-face with your baby. “Oh�� why are you here? Don’t get too close…”

“He’ll be fine.” Satoru picked your son up, placing him on his knee and steadying him with one arm. Having moved next to you on the bed, he brushed hair from your forehead. “What about you, hmm? Feeling better?”

Your eyebrows creased into a frown. “Yeah, I think, but more than that, Satoru, I’ve told you, don’t let him—”

“Yes, yes, sweetheart. He won’t get sick, look, he’s as healthy as he can be~” and to make a point, he turned his baby over and lightly smacked his bottom, prompting a whimper from the little one and a gasp from you.

“Don’t spank him!”

“Ehh? Then can I spank you instead?”

“Satoru, you’re a little piece of—!”

Just you and him, as well as the little treasure that was your son. This little family was enough reason to live. To win.

And Gojo Satoru once again thought, that being the strongest didn’t really mean that much anymore because with his world in his hands, nothing else matters.

Epilogue

“You’re so silly, why did you buy so many?” you grumbled at the sight of three different brands of cold medicine your husband displayed in front of you. “One is enough, do you want me to overdose?”

Satoru snickered. “Don’t blame me, blame your kid. He’s the one picking all of them.”

You totally didn’t get what he meant at all, but yeah, your husband was the silliest human ever and that’s that.

“Hey, don’t you think it’s a bit smelly here?” Satoru suddenly asked, wearing a quizzical expression.

You took a sniff of the air, glancing at your baby blinking innocently and sitting calmly on your husband, and a realization struck you. “Uh, Satoru...”

Following your gaze, as if sensing an omen, Satoru hastily scooped up his son, letting out a bewildered gasp as he felt a slight wetness where the baby had been sitting on him.

“Did he just poo on me?!”

[immortalmrwavell]

Getting The Job

(Original story posted November 7th 2021. Original story title “Better Life, Cop Life”) This story has been mildly Updated!

Recently Eric’s life had been going down the drain. First he split up with his boyfriend Jake after discovering he was cheating. Then he lost his job due to staff cuts. And to top it off he then lost his old apartment since it was all in Jake’s name. Now his ex was living in their old place with the guy he cheated with while Eric was struggling to find a new job while living in the cheapest apartment he could find. As he applied for shitty job after job he couldn’t help but wonder what he’d done to deserve all this? Was it all some kind of cruel universal joke?

As he was job hunting, one of the positions that popped up was a job at a small clothing shop called “Threads for Life”. The description of the job itself was extremely vague but he assumed it would just be retail. Working a till and serving customers etc. So he applied.

Surprisingly they were the first to get back to him about his application and in such a short time frame as well. They emailed asking for him to come in for an interview. Of course Eric accepted. Why wouldn’t he? The only weird thing was how close this shop seemed to be. It was just down the road from his old apartment and still rather close to his current one but he could swear he’d never seen or heard of the shop before. He just chalked it up to him being unobservant and forgetful.

On the day of the interview Eric found the shop just where it was said to be. Even after seeing it though, nothing clicked. He could’ve sworn it wasn’t here before. He shook the odd feeling off however as he stepped up to the front door perfectly on time and looking his best.

Upon entering he was greeted by a middle aged man who introduced himself as the owner of the establishment, Tony. The two exchange greetings before Tony ushered Eric to follow him. Eric expected to be taken immediately to an office but instead Tony simply walked through the many isles of clothing with him while chatting casually about the shop and its history.

Before Eric had assumed this to be a simple clothes shop. One that sold shirts, pants and all the rest like most other shops. And it did. But something Eric was quick to notice was how most of the clothes seemed to be matched together in outfits. Rather than being separated into different sections, almost all the clothes in the shop had already been prematched. There were plenty of casual combos like t-shirts and jeans or shorts and tank tops however as they moved from aisle to aisle there were a very noticeable amount of clothes that seemed more like costumes.

Some were more understandable like suits. But a lot of the others?… Eric took note of medical scrubs, fireman uniforms, motorcycle gear, handyman clothes, police uniforms, cowboy costumes, construction clothes and so much more. Eric also couldn’t help noting that none of the clothes seemed to be marketed towards women. He supposed the shop specialised in men’s attire specifically. Still he couldn’t help but find the layout of the store to be… strange.

“Soooo… Eric was it? Before I can give you a job. I want to ask you a couple questions.” The owner said as he sat down on a cushioned stool near the back of the shop, prompting Eric to do the same.

Eric of course agreed to this as questions were standard procedure for almost any interview so he was ready for it..

“Okay first question then. Growing up, did you ever have any dreams of who you’d eventually become? What job you’d want to strive for? What kind of man you’d want to become?” Tony asked.

It was a strange question for sure but Eric still pondered it for a moment before answering. “Well I don’t think I was ever dead set on anything but I remember wanting to be something along the lines of a fireman… or a police officer maybe?”

Tony nodded, seeming pleased with that answer. “Okay then second question. Are you content with the current direction your life has taken or would you still like to fulfill that childhood dream if you could?”

Eric chuckled at the bizarre question. “Well… my life hasn’t exactly been going in a good direction recently. If I could change some things I would. But if you’re asking me whether I’d wanna become a cop then… I just don’t think I have what it takes.” He gestured down at his body. “I’m thin and lanky. Don’t really go to the gym that much and I’m not all that good with confrontation. To be honest I just don’t think I have the right mindset to be a cop you know?” Eric huffed before looking back up at the owner. “And no offense but what does that have to do with me working here?”

Tony didn’t answer at first. He just smiled before standing back up again. The owners eyes glanced around the store, mainly at all the costumes and then turned back to Eric.

“Alright. I think I can give you a job.”

Eric was surprised when he heard that. All he’d done was answer two silly questions. He tried to query as to how those questions even mattered but Tony simply asked Eric to follow him. Confused as ever, Eric did just that.

The pair made their way back down the isles of outfits. They passed by the suits, doctors scrubs and all the other costumes yet again. Only the weird thing was now that Eric was getting a closer look at them, he started to notice how real the costumes looked. They weren’t just silly fake costumes you’d wear to a party. They were the real deal! Actually looking as though they belonged to real firemen and real doctors. Even the tradie outfits looked dirty as if they’d been used for actual tradie work.

Tony stopped in front of the police uniforms. Eric was quick to notice just how real those looked as well. Not just uniform but genuine looking police badges as well. Not to mention the radio, utility belt and even a body cam that all looked completely real. As if they’d been taken directly from actual cops and put on display.

“Pick one.” Was all Tony said.

“What? Seriously?” Eric was baffled. This had to be some kind of joke right?

“Oh come on. Humour me a little. Pick one out.” Tony urged, patting Eric on the back. “Though if I were you I’d certainly pick that one.” The shop owner pointed out a specific uniform amongst the selection. Eric didn’t really see why it’d matter which one he chose as they mostly looked the same anyway.

Eric sighed. “Fine, I’ll pick that one then. Now what? Want me to go try it on.” He joked only to be met by an affirming nod from Tony.

“Changing rooms are just over there.”

Eric raised an eyebrow at the man but decided what the hell. He took the uniform off the rack along with the equipment. Tony then picked up the large black boots and placed them on top of the uniform in Eric’s hands. Eric shook his head as he turned and walked off towards the changing rooms.

He shut the blue curtain behind as he stepped into one of the stalls. It was a fair bit bigger than he’d expected it to be. Eric sat the uniform down on the bench before striping himself down to his boxer briefs. After setting his own clothes to one side, he began to get dressed in the police uniform.

First thing he did was pull on the pants which he found to be rather baggy. He sat down to prevent them from falling as he grabbed the shirt, pulling it on and buttoning it up. He made sure to tuck it into his pants before grabbing the utility belt and strapping firmly around his waist. He still couldn’t believe it had a real taser attached to it and everything. Lastly Eric slid his feet into the heavy black boots which were clearly a couple sizes too large.

With that Eric stood up to take a look in the mirror. He looked ridiculous. The uniform was far too big and baggy on him. He looked like he was playing dress up more than anything. He slid his hands into his pockets as looked at himself a little more, amused by the uniform. Though as his hands dug around in the pockets, he realised something was in one of them. It was small and metallic. Eric pulled it out to reveal a name tag with “J. Desmond” engraved on it. Jokingly Eric decided to pin it to his shirt for a laugh.

Eric shook his head again at how silly this all was. Why had Tony made him put this one anyway? With a shrug he was just about to start taking the uniform off, not wanting to look stupid when he stepped out of the changing room. But before he could even start unbuttoning the shirt, he began to feel…weird. Like a warm wave of pure pleasure began flowing over him. A wave so incredible that he almost didn’t notice his body starting to change.

His upper body was first to see a transformation. His back widening significantly as his flat chest began to bubble and swell into two thick hefty pecs. Pecs that grew larger until they started to strain his shirt slightly. The same shirt that’d been hanging loosely off his frame moments ago now starting to fill out at an alarming rate. Especially as his shoulders bulged to the size of cannon balls while his traps grew to match. His waist grew larger but tighter at the same time as fat melted away in place of pure raw muscle. Showing itself even more so in the form of abs. They weren’t chiseled washboard abs, they were thicker and softer than that but still impressive all the same.

But his arms. They were what really caught Eric’s attention. Partly thanks to the cop shirt he was wearing being a short sleeve which gave him a full view of their transformation. He got to watch as veins pulsed across his skinny twig-like arms as though they were being pumped full of unseen energy. And then with pain or warning they started to swell. His previously non existent biceps began hulking into reality as the muscle beneath his skin inflated. It should’ve been impossible. Seemingly gaining mass from nothing. But his eyes witnessed it all. His forearms expanded rapidly while his hands cracked and thickened. His biceps continued to balloon with power and size until they stretched his sleeves. Only then did they finally stop. His veins subsided as his arms reached their new colossal size.

His upper body might’ve been massive now but his lower body was getting ready to catch up. Eric’s waist and hips had already widened enough for the waist of the cop pants to fit securely. Now it was his legs turn to catch up.

In seconds they put on an unbelievable amount of sheer muscle mass. It was as though someone had plugged an air pump into his legs and started filling them up. But it wasn’t air. It was pure real muscle. Eric couldn’t help but groan a little as his pants began to feel tighter. He leaned against the wall of the cubicle for support as his thighs and calves continued to bloat thicker and more powerful by the second. The once baggy cop pants now fit him like a glove. But it wasn’t just his legs. His backside started to swell as well. His once average butt growing into a juicy muscular bubble ass that strained against the back of his pants perfectly. Not to mention his feet cracking and lengthening similar to hands. Growing multiple sizes until they fit perfectly inside the black cop boots he had on.

When the next change kicked in, Eric’s eyes widened as one of his hands instinctively flew towards his crotch. Grabbing his bulge tightly as even that began to swell and grow. His eyes began to roll back as his cock snaked down one his legs, growing girthier in the process. Meanwhile his balls followed suit as they bloated into fat heavy nuts full to the brim with cum.

His body was complete but his head still had to change. A stinging sensation came over his face as it started to morph. The shape of his head and all of his features altering dramatically until he was unrecognisable from the man he once was. His new look being much sharper and masculine in a way that would’ve screamed high school jock had he been a little younger. All the while the light stubble he’d always carried grew into more of a short well kept beard while the messy mid length hair he adorned shortened into faded crew cut.

“Fuuuuuck…” Eric groaned as the transformation subsided at last. There was a clear difference in his voice. It must’ve been altered with the rest of his body. He found himself looking back into the mirror with amazement. No longer was he that scrawny pale figure of a man he’d seen reflected all his life. Now he was… buff. Really buff! And hot as fuck!. It was unreal. The uniform that was more or less falling off him moments ago now clung to him as though he were made for it. He couldn’t stop himself from running his hands up and down his torso, feeling a set of strong abs hiding under his shirt before drifting back up to squeeze his power new pecs through the fabric. He never thought he’d actually have fucking pecs but here he was now! Groping and kneading them.

In all the excitement his cock began to firm up. Eric could feel the blood rushing to his crotch as his growing erection created a clear outline in his pants. He smirked as he brought both hands down towards his crotch. Gently he rubbed his hands across the length of his dick through his pants.

Eric looked back into the mirror before bringing both arms up into flex. His already hard cock twitched at the sight of his biceps bulging, threatening to rip his sleeves in the process. The strength he felt flowing through his arms… No, his whole body was intoxicating! With his left hand Eric proceeded to grasp and squeeze his right bicep. It seemed impossible, like he was living in a lucid dream!

Just then Eric thought of something he’d always wished he could do. He’d never been buff enough to do it before. But now? He lowered his arms to his sides, stood up straight before flexing his chest. His pecs bounced. Eric’s eyes widened in amazement at the sight of his new muscle tits jumping underneath the shirt. He bounced them a few more times before cupping them again with a sense of pure wonder flowing through him. “These feel fucking amazing…”

Once he’d finished admiring his pecs, Eric remembered something else that’d grown. He turned his back to the mirror and looked behind. His cock twitched extra hard this time as he caught sight of his muscular new cop butt straining against his uniform pants. He couldn’t help himself. Before long his greedy hands were reaching back and grasping at his thick bubbly ass. “Oooohh fuuck.” He growled, feeling just how hefty they were. “My ass is fucking huge!…” Eric murmured aloud, lost in the pleasure. So lost in fact that he didn’t even notice Tony peering through the curtains. Watching with a horny gaze as Eric squeezed and groped his fat new ass. Even watching as Eric went as far as to place his hands just under his ass cheeks and start jiggling them, dumbly laughing as he did.

Eric felt his cock pulsing and bucking uncontrollably as he played with his cop butt. So much so that he couldn’t hold back anymore. Soon enough he spun back around to face the mirror again before unzipping his pants. Tony continued to creep in on the show while Eric shoved a hand into his underwear, struggling to free his erection. With a little effort however Eric was able to let out a satisfied sigh as his girthy python sprung free. The thing must’ve been around 9 inches long and insanely thick. It was every man’s dream cock.

A slapping noise could be heard from the changing rooms as Eric began smacking his cock against his hand while he admired it. Every smack sent a pleasurable shiver through his body. He had to stroke it. He was just able to wrap his hand around its full girth before he started to pump. It had to have been at least three times more sensitive than his old cock as Eric couldn’t stop cursing while he pumped it.

He began to jerk faster as he looked over his new body in the mirror again. His handsome bearded face and buff body. How thick his legs were. How buff his arms had become. How massive his chest had grown. Just looking at it all reflected back at him allowed him to jerk off furiously. He then looked down at his cock. He loved seeing it. Soooo thick and excited as some precum started to drip from the tip. With how sensitive it was and intensely he was pumping it, Eric could tell he was gonna to blow any moment.

He turned to his left, getting a perfect side view of his body. He couldn’t help but fixate on how much his ass stood out. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching his free hand back towards it again. Before long he was groping his ass and jerking his cock all at the same time. The new cop was having the time of his goddamn life!

“Fuuuuuuuccck!” That was enough to send him over the edge. Tony, who was still watching, saw Eric's ass clench and his cock erupt with an enormous load. One so big that it shit cum all over the benches adjacent to the new cop as well as his old and now ill fitting clothes. His cock continued to buck and twitch for a good few moments afterwards. Shooting a few more times as it covered the floor in front of him with cum.

“See. I knew you’d like that one.” Tony finally made himself known as he pulled back the curtain.

Eric whipped around, still panting a little. “Fuck I… my deepest apologies sir… I couldn’t stop myself.” He tried to reason.

“No need to apologise Officer.” Tony smirked as he glanced down at Eric’ softening cock, still dripping cum. “Most find it hard to contain themselves after what you just went through. So no need to worry. I’ll even get it cleaned up for ya.” The store manager smiled innocently.

“Officer?…” Eric repeated what the other man had said to him as though it weren’t the truth. It sounded weird and off putting to hear someone call him that. So why did it sound so right at the same time?

“Well you are a Cop now. Officer James Desmond to be precise, so you better get used to hearing it.” Tony nodded towards the name tag that was pinned to Eric’s shirt.

Hearing that name triggered something inside Eric. Memories of being Cop flooded his mind along with a bunch of other unfamiliar memories. He still remembered who he used to be but now he had a whole new life filling his head that made his old one feel like a fleeting dream. A new life as Officer James Desmond.

“Thank you sir. You have no idea how grateful I am for all this…” James stated, his new manners kicking in right away. Immediately after he tucked his fat new cock back into his pants before pulling up the zip. “But I’ve got to be back at the station in half an hour.”

“No worries Officer! I completely understand. You head off and I’ll be sure to get all your ball batter cleaned. Might take me a while though.” Tony joked, earning a chuckle from James.

“Heh sorry sir. Got myself a pair of bull balls down here.” James gave his crotch a quick squeeze. “Well I’m off. If you ever need anything don’t hesitate to ask for me down at the staton.” He said, passing by Tony as he exited the changing cubicle.

“Oh don’t worry I will.” Tony replied, giving James’ ass a smack as he passed. He continued to watch James’ ass shake as he sauntered away up until the sexy new cop reached the front door.

James hopped into his car, not even noticing it’d been morphed into a cop car, before starting up the engine. As he drove towards the station he couldn’t help but daydream about plunging his cock into some other hot cop’s ass or having another cop fuck his new bubble butt. Surely some of his buddies down at the station would be down for some fun. According to his memories he seemed to recall catching his own partner checking out his ass a couple times…

Back at the shop. “Another life bettered and another hot stud on the streets. A pretty good day I’d say” Tony sighed to himself with a smile before turning back towards the changing room. Looking over at the huge mess of Cop nut he now had to clean. “Well… best get to work.”

[eliaah]

you called them “your husband”

characters: yami sukehiro, fuegoleon vermillion, nozel silva, william vangeance, & jack.

tags: fluff , multi characters x fem reader

a/n: i forgot to add william in my last post so here's my apology for him shjsksksks, i'm so sorry that i forgot him 😭

🍁 YAMI SUKEHIRO

The tavern is lively tonight, filled with the usual rowdy crowd. After a long mission, there’s nothing better than unwinding with a drink in hand, especially with Yami by my side. We’re sitting at the bar, close enough that our shoulders brush together every time one of us moves. It’s a small comfort, a reminder that he’s here, and that I’m safe.

The Black Bulls are scattered around the tavern, celebrating in their usual chaotic fashion. Magna and Asta are arm-wrestling in the corner, while Finral is attempting to flirt with a group of local girls, much to Charmy’s amusement as she devours her feast. The laughter and chatter create a warm, buzzing atmosphere that feels like home.

Yami leaned in closer to me, his deep voice rumbling softly in my ear. “You did good out there today. Not bad for someone who’s usually stuck doing paperwork.”

I smirked, nudging him with my elbow. “I’m more than just a pretty face, Captain.”

He chuckled, taking a swig of his drink. “Damn right you are.”

The comfortable banter between us had always been there, but tonight felt different. Maybe it was the adrenaline still coursing through our veins, or maybe it was just the warmth of the tavern and the closeness we shared.

As I take a sip of my drink, a group of regulars from the tavern comes over, striking up a conversation. They’ve clearly had a few too many, but their curiosity gets the better of them. One of them, a burly man with a grin that shows off a missing tooth, looks between Yami and me.

“So, what’s the deal with you two?” he asks, his voice slurred.

I feel a mischievous smile tug at my lips as I lean back in my chair, deciding to have a little fun. “Oh, he's my husband.” The words come out before I can fully think them through, but once they’re out there, I don’t regret them. There’s a split second where everything feels like it’s frozen in time—like the whole tavern is holding its breath.

Yami, who had been in the middle of taking a drink, nearly chokes. He looks at me with wide eyes, his expression a mixture of shock and amusement. The rest of the group looks between us, unsure if they should laugh or back away slowly.

“Husband, huh?” Yami finally says, setting his drink down and wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. He’s trying to play it cool, but I can see the redness creeping up his neck and to his cheeks.

I give him a cheeky grin, tilting my head slightly. “Yeah, you got a problem with that… husband?”

The word feels strange on my tongue, but it also feels right. And by the way Yami’s looking at me, I can tell it hit him just as hard. He leans closer, his face just inches from mine now, and I can see the playful glint in his eyes.

“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that one.” he says, his voice low and teasing. But the way his lips quirk up and his ears turn a little red gives him away. He’s as flustered as I am.

“I’d like to see you try.” I shoot back, my heart racing faster than it should. There’s a charged energy between us, something more than just the usual teasing banter.

For a moment, we just stare at each other, the noise of the tavern fading into the background. His face is so close, and all I can think about is how red his cheeks are—how red mine must be too. It’s ridiculous, really. We’ve been together for a while now, and yet, this simple word, “husband,” has both of us acting like nervous teenagers.

Yami’s the first to break the silence, laughing softly as he pulls back slightly, his grin widening. “You’re lucky you’re cute, you know that?”

I roll my eyes, though I can’t stop the smile spreading across my face. “Yeah, yeah. You know you liked it.”

He gives me a look that’s half amused, half something else—something warmer. “Maybe I did.” he admits, his voice quieter now, almost serious.

There’s a moment where neither of us says anything. Then, as if realizing how sappy things are getting, Yami suddenly grabs his mug, downing the rest of his drink in one go. I laugh, the tension breaking as easily as it had formed.

But even as we go back to our usual banter, teasing each other about anything and everything, I can’t help but notice how his hand occasionally brushes against mine or how his gaze lingers just a little too long.

And when the night finally ends and we head back to the base, Yami pulls me close, his arm around my waist, and whispers in my ear, “G’night, wife.”

My heart skips a beat, and I look up at him, seeing the same flustered expression on his face.

“Goodnight, husband.” I whisper back, feeling my face flush once more.

We walk the rest of the way in comfortable silence, both of us trying to hide our smiles in the darkness of the night.

🍁 FUEGOLEON VERMILLION

The grand hall of the Vermillion estate is quiet tonight, a serene stillness settling over the room. The warm, golden glow from the fireplace bathes the space in a comforting light, making the shadows dance along the walls. Fuegoleon and I are nestled together on a plush couch, wrapped in a peaceful silence that feels as intimate as any conversation. His arm is draped over my shoulders, fingers gently playing with a strand of my hair, and I find myself leaning into him, savoring the rare moment of calm.

The day had been long, filled with duties and obligations that left little time for us. But now, with the world outside feeling so far away, it’s just the two of us. This, I think, is my favorite part of the day.

I tilt my head to look up at him, admiring the way the firelight softens his usually stern features. “You know,” I begin softly, a playful tone creeping into my voice, “I could get used to spending my evenings like this.”

Fuegoleon looks down at me, a curious smile playing on his lips. “And what exactly would that be?” he asks, his voice warm.

“With my husband.” I reply, the words slipping out almost too casually, though the impact of them is anything but.

For a moment, everything seems to pause. Fuegoleon’s eyes widen slightly, the word clearly catching him off guard. He blinks, processing what I just said, and I can see the faintest hint of pink rising to his cheeks. Despite his usually composed demeanor, there’s a flicker of something more vulnerable in his expression, something that makes my heart swell.

“Husband.” he repeats, almost as if he’s testing the word on his tongue. His voice is calm, but there’s a softness in it that wasn’t there before. I can tell that he’s flustered, though he’s trying to hide it behind that noble composure.

I smile up at him, feeling a bit giddy at his reaction. “Yes, my husband.” I say, a little more firmly this time, enjoying the way the word makes him react. “That’s what you are, after all.”

Fuegoleon lets out a soft, almost nervous laugh, the sound so unlike his usual self that it makes my heart skip a beat. “Well then,” he begins, his voice gentle but tinged with a warmth that makes my cheeks flush, “if I’m your husband, then that must make you… my wife.”

Now it’s my turn to feel flustered, the weight of his words sinking in. There’s something so intimate, so precious about hearing him call me that, and I can feel my face heating up in response. But it’s not just the words, it’s the way he says them, with such sincerity and affection that it makes me want to melt into the cushions.

He notices my reaction, and a soft smile spreads across his face, his eyes filled with a rare, tender warmth. Fuegoleon shifts slightly, his hand cupping my cheek as he leans in closer. “My wife.” he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper, but filled with so much emotion that it makes my heart flutter.

I lean into his touch, my own smile widening as I meet his gaze. “I think I like the sound of that,” I murmur, my voice trembling slightly with the overwhelming rush of affection I feel for him.

His thumb brushes gently across my cheek, and for a moment, it feels like the entire world has narrowed down to just the two of us. “And I think I like calling you that.” he replies softly, his eyes never leaving mine.

Fuegoleon leans down, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead, the gesture so full of love that it takes my breath away. As he pulls back, his gaze lingers on mine, and I can see the soft blush that still colors his cheeks. It’s a rare sight to see him this flustered, and it makes the moment all the more special.

“Husband.” he says again, the word almost reverent, as if he’s savoring it. “I promise, I’ll always do my best to be worthy of that title.”

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them back, not wanting to miss a second of this moment. “And I’ll always be here by your side.” I whisper, my voice filled with all the love I feel for him.

He pulls me closer, wrapping me in his arms, and I can feel the steady beat of his heart against my own. As we sit there, the warmth of the fire and the comfort of his embrace surrounding us, I realize that this—right here, with him—is all I’ll ever need.

And as the night drifts on, and the flames in the fireplace begin to die down, Fuegoleon’s hand remains intertwined with mine, a silent promise that whatever the future holds, we’ll face it together, as husband and wife.

🍁 NOZEL SILVA

The grand hall of the Silva estate is elegantly decorated for Nozel’s birthday. Soft lights and floral arrangements create a warm, inviting atmosphere, and the guests mingle with drinks in hand. Despite the festive mood, Nozel stands somewhat aloof, his usual stern demeanor reflecting his indifference towards birthdays. Yet, he appears subtly touched by the effort around him.

As the evening progresses, a series of heartfelt messages are shared in Nozel’s honor. When it’s my turn, I step up with a blend of excitement and affection, feeling both nervous and eager to speak.

Nozel looks at me with his usual calm but curious gaze, and I begin.

“Happy birthday, Nozel. I know you often think birthdays are just another day, but I wanted to take this moment to tell you how much you mean to me. Your strength and dedication are truly admirable, but it’s your kindness and support that touch my heart the most. I’m incredibly grateful for every day we spend together.”

The room is silent as everyone listens, clearly moved by my words. Nozel’s expression softens, a rare, tender smile gracing his lips. The crowd watches with anticipation.

I take a playful breath and add, “And, since it’s your special day,” I continue, “I guess I should mention… I’m glad to be with you, my husband.”

A collective gasp echoes through the hall, followed by curious whispers. “They’re married? When did that happen?” The room buzzes with surprise.

Nozel’s face turns a deep shade of red, his usual calm composure replaced by an endearing fluster. I can’t help but chuckle, enjoying the playful chaos I’ve stirred.

After the applause, Nozel approaches me with a sheepish but affectionate smile. “Did you really have to drop that bombshell in front of everyone?” His voice is gentle, tinged with a mix of embarrassment and fondness.

I look up at him, my cheeks flushed from both the excitement and his reaction. “I just thought it would make your birthday more memorable.” I tease with a wink.

Nozel’s blush deepens, but his eyes soften as he gazes at me. “I appreciate that.” he says, his smile widening. “It’s nice to know you care enough to tease me like this.”

I squeeze his hand playfully. “Even if it’s just teasing, I wanted to remind you that you’re deeply loved and appreciated. I hope it made you smile.”

Nozel’s expression turns even more tender, a soft smile playing on his lips. “You certainly succeeded in making me smile. And... I have to admit, I’m starting to like the sound of ‘husband’.”

As the evening continues, our playful banter becomes a sweet part of the celebration. Nozel, embracing the nickname, uses it with a fond smile. His initial embarrassment fades into a comfortable affection, and he begins to tease me back with a charmingly flustered grin.

When the soft strains of music fill the room, Nozel extends his hand with a gracious smile. “May I have this dance, my wife?”

I nod, feeling my heart flutter with happiness. As we move to the center of the room, Nozel’s hand is gentle but firm, guiding me with care. After a few moments, he leans in and kisses the back of my hand, his eyes full of warmth.

“I’m glad to have you by my side,” he murmurs softly. “And I’m grateful for every moment we share, teasing or otherwise.”

I smile up at him, feeling a deep sense of contentment. “And I’m glad to be with you, husband.”

As we continue to dance, surrounded by the soft glow of the candles and the cheerful hum of the celebration, the night transforms into a moment of genuine connection and affection, making it a birthday to remember for both of us.

🍁 WILLIAM VANGEANCE

The flower shop is a haven of tranquility, its shelves bursting with colorful blooms and sweet fragrances. William and I are browsing, searching for a special flower to celebrate our relationship. As I sift through the flowers, my excitement builds, knowing this day is about cherishing our bond.

Spotting the elderly shopkeeper, I approach her with a warm smile. “Excuse me, I’m looking for white orchids. They’re for my husband.”

The shopkeeper’s eyes light up with a gentle smile. “White orchids, you say? We have a lovely bouquet in the back. Let me get it for you.”

As she heads to retrieve the flowers, I glance back at William. He’s standing a little ways behind me, his face slightly flushed and a soft smile on his lips. He seems genuinely touched by my casual use of “husband.” and it makes my heart flutter.

William steps closer, his voice tender yet playful. “You really didn’t have to call me that in public. It’s… unexpected.”

I turn to him, my eyes filled with affection. “I wanted to. It feels right to call you that, even if it’s just a playful term. It’s a small way to show how much you mean to me.”

William’s cheeks are tinged with pink, and he looks at me with a mix of surprise and warmth. “Well, I have to admit, it’s quite endearing. It’s not something I expected today, but it certainly made me smile.”

The shopkeeper returns with a bouquet of pristine white orchids, placing it gently on the counter. I take the bouquet, feeling its delicate beauty. As I hold it close, I feel William’s hand brush against mine, and he leans in slightly.

“Thank you for choosing these,” he says, his voice soft. “They’re perfect, just like you.”

I blush, feeling a deep sense of joy. “I’m glad you think so. I wanted to do something special for you. Even if it’s just a small gesture, it means a lot to me.”

William’s smile grows, and he reaches out to gently tuck a white orchid from the bouquet into my hair. His touch is tender, and his eyes are filled with a loving gaze. “This flower suits you perfectly. It’s a symbol of how much you mean to me.”

I feel my heart race at his sweet gesture. “Thank you. It’s beautiful, and it makes this moment even more special.”

As we leave the shop after purchasing, hand in hand with the bouquet between us, William’s gaze is soft and affectionate. “I have to say, I’m not embarrassed by the nickname. It makes me happy. It’s a reminder of how lucky I am to have you in my life.”

I smile, feeling a warm blush on my cheeks. “I’m glad you like it. It’s just a small way of saying how much I love being with you.”

William’s smile deepens as he gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “And I love every moment we share. You’ve made today unforgettable.”

Walking together, the bouquet of white orchids between us, the day feels magical. William’s gentle touch and the warmth of our shared moments make everything feel perfect, and I feel deeply connected and cherished.

🍁 JACK

During a lively festival, Jack and Yami are locked in a heated cooking competition. The atmosphere is electric, with people cheering and enjoying the festivities.

Jack and Yami are both in the middle of preparing their dishes at their respective stalls. The crowd is watching intently, and the rivalry between the two is adding to the excitement of the event.

As Jack is focused on his cooking, he suddenly starts arguing with Yami about the best way to cook a dish. Their bickering gets louder and more intimidating. Trying to intervene and bring some calm, I step in.

“Alright, you two, enough already!” I say, trying to be heard over their arguing.

Jack turns to me, looking slightly frazzled. “What’s the matter?”

I roll my eyes playfully. “You’re making a scene, Jack. You need to focus on your cooking and stop fighting.”

Jack’s eyes widen in shock, and he tries to respond, but I cut him off. “And as much as I adore you, you really need to stop being such a loudmouth. I suppose that’s just how my husband acts.”

The entire area goes quiet for a moment, with everyone turning to look at us. Jack freezes, his eyes widening in shock. Yami bursts into laughter, clearly enjoying Jack’s reaction.

“Husband?” Yami calls out, laughing. “You two are married now?”

Jack’s face turns bright red, and he looks around, clearly flustered. “W-what? No, it’s just—”

I give him a teasing smile, enjoying the effect of my words. “Just a slip of the tongue, Jack. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Jack tries to regain his composure but is clearly struggling. “Yeah, sure. Just a slip of the tongue,” he mumbles, trying to hide his embarrassment.The crowd starts chuckling softly, enjoying the unexpected turn of events. Yami continues to tease Jack, while Jack tries to focus on the competition, though his flustered state makes it difficult.

As the festival winds down and we finish packing up, Jack approaches me with a slightly nervous but hopeful expression. He pulls out a small, neatly wrapped box from his bag.

“Hey,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant. “I, uh, brought you something.”

I look at the box with curiosity. “What’s this?”

“It’s nothing special,” Jack replies quickly, trying to downplay it. “Just a little something I thought you might like.”

I open the box to find a portion of my favorite food, carefully prepared and packed. My heart warms at the sight.

“This is really sweet of you. Thank you.”

Jack scratches the back of his head, looking a bit embarrassed. “Yeah, well, you mentioned you liked it a lot, so I figured... you know.”

I smile, reaching out to give him a gentle hug. “It means a lot to me. Thank you.”

Jack smiles back, a hint of pride in his eyes. “Don’t mention it. Just... don’t expect me to call you ‘wife’ all the time or anything.”

I laugh, holding the box close. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

As we walk away from the festival, Jack occasionally glances at me, clearly pleased by my reaction. The playful teasing from earlier is replaced with a comfortable, warm feeling between us. The evening ends with us enjoying the food Jack made, sharing stories and laughter under the stars, with the sweet memory of his thoughtful gesture adding a special touch to the night.

[landograndprix]

╰┈➤ ❝ desire • l.n c.l ❞

part one - part ii

➪ Charles hasn't paid much attention to you after your daughter was born but a certain Brit does.

➪ Everything seems to be going right and life seems amazing, at least to the others..not for you.

➪ established relationship mom!reader x dad!Charles x lando

➪ this came to me as I was running a high fever, stop judging me..i also needed a charles fic here, No lando in this one yet, Charles ain't a real good partner and google translate is my bestest friend

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charlesgirlies

liked by 456 others

charlesgirlies Charles and Zoë in y/n's story today 🥰

view all 189 comment

cahlossainz oh

chilisainz oh my god I'm dead 😭

↳ bott_ass bestie same

charles16 she needs to keep feeding us dad Charles please!!

leclerc_16 volunteering to be his baby mama

lanlan Zoë is just the cutest little bean 🥰

↳ charlesgirlies she is! 🥰

lanlan lil cutie like her mom :)

charlesgirlies and her dad!

charloslesainz y/n living my dream life 😭

landoscar I just know zoë has Charles wrapped around her finger

yukisan didn't know y/n and charles were together let alone have a kid 😂

↳ clsixteen have you been living under a rock? It was a big scandal when they were seen together 5 years ago?? 😭

yukisan I'm new so i dont have all the lore, just thought they were friends because they both come from Monaco 😅

leckerkcharles y/n the predator and her victims

mrsleclerc love that there's still people in the comments being mad about them dating 💀

↳ carlandooo for real it's been 5 years people and charles is not little sauber Charles anymore 🤡

charlesgirlies people be acting like y/n is 40 years older than charles

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y/nusername

📍 Sicily, italy

liked by charles_leclerc, noellepicard and 369,989 others

y/nusername babes big day out 🏖

tagged: noellepicard, manon_roux

view all 1,111 comments

noellepicard she's a little mermaid 🧜🏻‍♀️

charlesssss I can't, she's the cutest 😭

charles_leclerc princesse ❤️

↳ charloslesainz stop it, he's such a girl dad imma throw up

hamilt44n man is made to be a dad honestly

manon_roux lucky to have the prettiest girls in the world with me 🥰

↳ joris__trouche je n'ai pas reçu mon invitation? (i didn't get my invite)

y/nusername probablement parce que je n'en ai pas envoyé :) (probably because i didn't send one)

joris__trouche comportement inacceptable (unacceptable behaviour)

charles_leclerc Joris est une des filles maintenant 😂 (joris is one of the girls now)

y/nusername Je devrais lui acheter une mini-jupe et des talons hauts pour nos prochaines vacances :') (should buy him a mini skirt and some high heels for our next vacation)

manon_roux j'aimerais voir cela se produire 🤣 (i'd love to see that happen)

joris__trouche j'aurais l'air sexy et tu ne peux pas le nier (i'd look sexy and you can't deny it)

sharl16 no idea what they're saying but I agree 😭

landoscar her little feeties 🥺

leclerc_16 am I the only one who finds it strange that they haven't been together this summer break?

↳ carlosleclerc they were bestie, they spend time together with friends in Monaco last week..they're both on their girls and boys vacation..pretty normal

leclerc_16 oh I've missed that part..still something feels off

carlosleclerc I mean y/n gave birth to their daughter not that long ago and its probably not the best idea to fly with a new born/baby all around the world. I'm sure they're fine..

leclerc_16 mmm you're probably right, would hate to see them split up though

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y/nusername posted to their story

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y/nusername

📍 Monte-Carlo, Monaco

liked by arthur_leclerc, pierregasly and 327,888 others

y/nusername juste toi et moi à l'infini, petite fille 💗 (just you and me to infinity, little girl.)

view all 1,222 comments

noellepicard 😍

yourmumsuser mes anges ❤️ (my angels)

charloslesainz 'just you and me' doesn't sit right with me lmfao

↳ thurthur my god it's just a caption 💀

landoscar for real they're always reaching for things

thurthur they always trying to start shit and it's getting annoying and repetitive

clsixteen never seen such a cute kid 🥰

francisca.cgomes need to meet her soon!

↳ y/nusername your always welcome!

bananaclerc cutest little bunny 🐰

manon_roux mon lapinou ❤️ (my bunny)

joris__trouche mon petit monstre ❤️ (my little monster)

↳ hamilt44n stop this kid is so loved 😭

sainzleclerc feeding the delulu fans with that caption

↳ charlesgirlies it's literally just a damn caption!!!

sainzleclerc I know but the crazy charles girlies haven't seen them together in a while and don't forget Charles hasn't mentioned zoë in a while.. things add up in their heads 🤡

charles_leclerc mes princesses ❤️

↳ y/nusername 🥰

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y/nusername posted to their story

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Everything taglist; @thomaslefteyebrow @hopefulinlove @smoothopz @honethatty12 @cixrosie @parkersmjs @ireadthensuetheauthors @celestialams @be-your-coffee-pot @heli991113 @kodzuvk @reality-is-a-con @80sloverry @bibissparkles @myescapefromthislife @lanando4 @elliegrey2803 @ravisinghs-wife @harrysdimple05 @minkyungseokie @pretty-little-bunny382728

Lando taglist: @simp-for-fictional-people @landossainz @christianpulisic10 @bored-brunette2

let me know if you want to be taken off the taglist

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Here's a continuation of my "Arthur becomes Emrys's familiar" au since that's what won the poll!

You can find part one of this au here!

A quick recap if you didn't see my previous post: the basics of this au are that Arthur performed a ritual with the help of the druids to lift a curse that was placed on Camelot by Morgana, but in doing so, he bound himself to Emrys, the god of magic, as his familiar and servant. Because of this, Arthur can now physically see Merlin's magic as strands of golden dust and can hear messages telepathically given to him by Merlin. Merlin, meanwhile, tried to stop Arthur from performing the ritual and is now just desperately trying to keep his magic a secret from Arthur, who misinterprets the magic he sees swirling around Merlin as a threat from Emrys to keep him complacent.

Alright, now that I've finished the recap, onto the new stuff!

After Arthur spent a few months in Camelot under Emrys's control and seeing the threat of magic everywhere around him, he felt like he was on the verge of a mental breakdown. Emrys still hadn't even told him what his plans for Arthur were, which led Arthur to believe that the god no doubt had some heinous plan that would be torturous for Arthur. After all, what other plan could the god of magic have for the king of the land that had eradicated his worshippers for decades besides pain and death?

The longer Arthur waited for Emrys to reveal anything about his plans or to give Arthur some terrible order that would set in motion Camelot's downfall, the more nervous and paranoid Arthur became. Because did it seem like the buzzing in his head was getting louder each day, or was that his imagination? Was Emrys slowly taking control of his mind without Arthur even knowing?!

All Arthur knew for certain was that Emrys wanted him alive to do his bidding. Now that Arthur could see Emrys's magic, he could see how the golden dust strengthened his armor, enhanced his weapons, and attacked his enemies. On certain occasions, it even protected Arthur's loved ones.

(Arthur swore that he was never as close to a heart attack as he was when he saw those golden strands of light bind themselves around Guinevere and roughly pull her from her chair. Arthur had thought for a terrible moment that Emrys had found some fault to punish Arthur for, and the horrible god was taking it out on his wife. However, Arthur was relieved beyond words when he saw an arrow hit the back of Guinevere's chair, where she had been sitting only a second before. Emrys wasn't punishing him through Guinevere, he was saving Arthur's wife. Why would he do that though? Did the god also need Guinevere alive for his plans?)

Merlin had also been acting strangely after the ritual. Arthur could see that Emrys's magic curled itself tightly around Merlin, like a large snake poised to strangle its prey. Arthur knew that this was a ever-present threat from Emrys, that if Arthur took one step out of line or disobeyed in any way, Merlin would be the one suffering for it.

Since the ritual, Merlin had been even more fidgety than usual, if that was even possible. It was like something was causing him an unusual amount of anxiety. Arthur just knew that Merlin's constant state of discomfort was because of the magic surrounding him, perhaps Merlin could sense the danger that was always around, even if the other man couldn't see it? Still, Arthur didn't want to tell Merlin about the magic constantly surrounding him, it would give poor Merlin a heart attack! His loyal manservant always looked scared, just for a split second, when magic was even mentioned, and Arthur didn't want to give Merlin the fright of his life by telling him that he was now being targeted by the god of magic because of Arthur's actions.

Emrys truly was a wily and devious god! Of course the nefarious god of magic wouldn't put Arthur's burden on Arthur's shoulders alone. No, it was the way of magic that it targeted the innocent, threatening people that had nothing to do with the ritual in the first place! This curse was Arthur's to bear alone, but of course Emrys would not abide by that!

Arthur tried to keep his cursing out of the god in his own thoughts to a minimum, just in case Emrys could hear his thoughts, which was entirely plausible given their mental connection. Eventually, it all becomes too much for Arthur. He fears that he'll be ultimately used as a tool to aid Emrys in the destruction of Camelot, so he makes plans to secretly give the crown to Gwen and resign all of his power. He still has to physically stay in Camelot, who knows what evil Emrys would rain down upon the kingdom if he realized that his pawn had left, but at the very least Emrys couldn't manipulate Arthur into ruining Camelot of Arthur wasn't in charge of Camelot.

Merlin, having spent ten years convincing Arthur that he's a great king and will lead Camelot into the golden age as its king, hearing that Arthur is planning on abdicating the throne in order to foil Emrys's plans: YOU FUCKING WHAT?!

Merlin, during all of this, has been using his connection with Arthur as sparingly as possible. He knows how much of a toll this who "familiar" thing has been for Arthur, and he wants to make it as small of a burden as possible, only giving Arthur life-saving and non-invasive commands.

But Merlin absolutely will NOT allow Arthur to give up his throne, to throw away their destiny, over a threat that isn't even really a threat! So, with a heavy heart, Merlin decides to use his "Emrys voice" to give Arthur a stern talking-to.

Merlin was hoping for his mental lecture to come off as a parent gently guiding a child away from making a terrible mistake, but on Arthur's end, he has a pissed off and sleep deprived deity shouting at full blast inside his mind about "abandoning his destiny" and "not trusting in fate".

For Arthur, it's the most terrifying thing he's ever experienced, and he can see the golden threads around Merlin flashing brightly around him when his manservant comes to wake him the next morning. Arthur gets the message: he has displeased Emrys, and Emrys is only going to give him one warning before Merlin bears the punishment for Arthur's disobedience. And however much Arthur wants to ensure that Camelot is protected from Emrys's plots, he cannot lose Merlin. So, Arthur calls off his plans to abdicate, in accordance with Emrys's commands.

(Arthur hates it like nothing else in the world. Not even following Uther's orders made rage and frustration flare up in his chest as it did now. Emrys knew exactly where to apply pressure to make Arthur break, and the villainous god had done exactly that.)

However, Arthur's attempt at abdication and Emrys's subsequent rage still did not answer Arthur's question: what plans did Emrys have for him? For what purpose did the evil god need Arthur alive and on the throne for?

Arthur wouldn't get any answers until the next battle against Morgana. Arthur's army was poised to battle against Morgana's Saxon hoarde in the morning, but Arthur couldn't get any sleep. Arthur knew that it was imperative for him to lead from the front lines as a strong and noble king, fighting alongside his loyal knights. However, Arthur couldn't shake the doubts rising in his mind. He was the familiar to the god of magic now, how did he know that he would not be forced by Emrys to betray Camelot in the heat of battle? Surely Emrys would be favoring Morgana in this battle?

So, in the privacy of his tent, Arthur knelt down and prayed for the first time since the ritual. Arthur had tried every other possible way of communicating with Emrys, but their mental connection either seemed to be one-sided or Emrys was ignoring all of mental messages for him. However, Arthur knew that Emrys couldn't possibly resist hearing what made a Pendragon so desperate that he would humiliate himself in such a way to the god of magic.

That night before the battle, Arthur prayed for Emrys to please help him protect his home and his knights. Arthur told Emrys that regardless of Emrys's feelings toward Arthur, his knights were good men who deserved to live to see another sunrise. Arthur begged for Camelot's innocent citizens to be spared from Morgana's wrath.

To Arthur's shock, he heard Emrys respond through their bond. His voice was softer than Arthur had ever heard it. In fact, the voice was so soft and gentle, Arthur swore that it sounded like Merlin's voice for a split second: I will be with you.

Arthur felt only slightly comforted by that. It could have been a sly trick from Emrys to get Arthur to lower his guard before the battle, but for some reason, Arthur didn't think that it was.

During the battle itself, Arthur is surrounded by complete chaos. At one point, he surrounded by at least eight enemies, having been cut off from his knights. He readies himself to either cut down his opponents or go down fighting when, all of a sudden, the strings of golden dust that had been knocking enemy soldiers off their feet rushed towards Arthur. Arthur braced himself, but when the light touched Arthur, it simple diffused itself into his skin, like it did at the end of the ritual that landed Arthur in this whole mess.

However, this time, the golden light that clung onto Arthur's skin didn't simply fade. Instead, it grew brighter and brighter, nearly forcing Arthur to close his eyes against the luminosity of it! After the light had grown to a blinding glow, it flew off of Arthur's skin with a blast, violently knocking away any Saxons that it hit. When Arthur's sight cleared and he looked around, he could see that all of Morgana's front lines, encompassing at least a thousand fully-armed Saxons, had been decimated by the blast.

Arthur stood alone, still separated from his men, and looked all around him with awe and horror in equal amounts. He could still feel the golden light on his skin, a slight tingling sensation that made the hair on his arms raise. Did... did Arthur just perform magic?! Had he blasted away all of those soldiers?!

Oh god, this was Emrys's plan all along, wasn't it! To turn Arthur into some power-hungry sorcerer corrupted by magic!

As Arthur's panic worked its way deeper into his chest and up his throat, Emrys spoke to him once more: That was my doing, Arthur, not yours.

With hysteria still gripping his chest, Arthur tilted his head to the heavens and shouted: "Give me more of an explanation than that for once you bastard! I need answers!"

And, shockingly, Emrys responded to him: I merely used you as a conduit for my magic. I was channeling my power through you. Be at ease, young king, for you are no sorcerer.

(Merlin, hidden nearby, mentally gives himself a pat on the back for both sounding sufficiently god-like and successfully channeling his magic through Arthur to make it drastically more powerful for the first time, since he was saving that particular ability for a real emergency, like that Arthur getting surrounded by angry Saxons. He'd wanted to avoid freaking Arthur out with that ability, but he'd take a panicked Arthur over a dead Arthur any day.)

After they return to Camelot victorious, Arthur is morose once more. How can his loves ones even be safe when they're in the room with him if Emrys could turn him into a living magical weapon at a moment's notice?!

(And one time skip and a dramatic magic reveal later, followed by a tense and emotional confrontation between Merlin and Arthur, Arthur would be pissed beyond words that he'd been made into a servant FOR HIS OWN DAMNED SERVANT!

Once Arthur works through his anger towards Merlin, he realizes that the whole ridiculous situation does make for some fun banter though.

And if Merlin's able to save Arthur from a fatal wound after Camlann thanks to their magical connection, then the prophecy would just say that they were truly two sides of the same coin: each a king and a servant to the other.)

Phew! That was a long post! Well, I hope that everyone enjoyed this au idea! I'll see you all again soon!

And, as always, thank you so much for reading through my ramblings! :D

[marisoil]

𝑫𝐎𝐄 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒

summary: post-rumbling, reiner decides to pay you a visit. somewhere along the night he realizes he wants more than he’s allowed himself to have.

an: first ever time writing a oneshot this is wild!! thereʼs not enough canon-verse fics on here. ily reiner plz have my kids.

genre: fluff

word count: 2,040

the walk to your little house feels like a pilgrimage, the quiet paths are different now, quiet like everything else in this strange peace, but his feet know the way. every step bringing him closer to you feels like something that’s his alone, something he’s stolen from whatever fate has decided for him. as his feet drag along the asphalt, he feels it, that old feeling he’d buried deep, kept under the lock of duty and war and shame. he canʼt his finger on it, partially because he isnʼt used to feeling it and the other reason being his unease at embracing the ferocious ardency heʼs inclined to feel for you and you only. it feels something like want, like yearning. thereʼs a hunger that lies dormant in the depths of his stomach for your presence, he craves it. it’s become something primal. when you’re not there, it’s like you’ve left a sunken space in him that he can’t fill. the feeling is so strong it drives him delirious, his mind tricking him into seeing you everywhere in everything all at once.

he’ll catch the faintest whiff of something sweet and saccharine, and he turns too quickly, thinking for a split second that you’re there, only for reality to empty itself into disappointment. it’s maddening, truly. he should count himself lucky that you look at him with adoration, not hate or disgust. it's a wonder to him, really, the way your irises sussurate with an adoration he cannot quantify, as if he could never disappoint you. it clutches his sternum in a brutal, unrelenting grip, he feels the weight of it in his throat, an unfamiliar pulse. being tethered to the horrifying vastness of your adoration for him is both a sufferance and a delight.

each time your eyes cut into him, something feral stirs, absurd in its magnitude. it is not want; it is collapse, an insatiable entropy dragging him toward visions fabricated entirely of you, a universe where only your form exists. he craves the things he can't have, for things he knows he doesn't deserve. he aches for the wreckage of your voice, the way a certain word escalades from your throat. his name resting on the tip of your tongue. reiner.

he knows he's being greedy, but can he be blamed? he wants your presence beside him, filling the air with something honest when the night unspools the seams of everything he’s hidden from himself. he wants the sound of your footfall, the solace of your soft hands soothe over the wounds he’s long since tried to veil. it’s all he can do not to scream for it. your very existence fills his senses until there’s no room for anything else. he’s greedy, he knows that. but it feels less like a sin and more like the only truth left when he reaches for you.

reiner finds himself hesitating just outside your door, his hand hovering in the air as he gathers his breath, eyes fixed on the warm glow spilling from your window. he’s been here before, he’s seen that same light, the one that makes your home feel like something from a memory he’s never had, but tonight, something feels different. maybe it’s him. maybe it’s just the need to see you, to feel something warm and alive again. the front porch was adorned with little plants in mismatched pots, vibrant green against the earthy wood. it suited you—warm, welcoming, a sanctuary. his breath hangs in the air, and for a second, he almost turns back. he almost turns back, almost lets the fear swallow him but he can’t, not after all this time, not after all the misery he self-inflicted upon himself all for the sake of loving you secretly. so, he raises a hand, knocking softly.

soon enough you open the door and there he is, broad and tired, standing on your doorstep as if he were exactly where he was meant to be. for a moment, you just look at each other. you stand there with the light falling around you in soft, warm colors, a subdued inhalation of surprise escaping your lips and reiner has to remind himself to breathe. there’s something so simple, so uncomplicated about this, about you in the doorway, framed by a house that feels alive with your residence. you don’t know what he sees in you, standing there in your small, homey world, but you can see it on his face, that hint of awe barely masked by his usual serene demeanor. then his expression shifts, softened by a small, familiar smile.

“i figured iʼd check in on you,” he says, voice a little lower than usual, “i wanted to see how you were settling in.”

you smile, “thatʼs sweet of you.” stepping aside, you motioned for him to step inside, “come in and see for yourself! i’m pretty proud of the place, actually.”

as he steps over the threshold, you notice him looking around, his gaze catching on the simple things—the plants in their little mismatched pots, the scarf you left over the back of a chair, your books stacked on shelves that barely hold them all. it’s all you, every inch of it, and he never wants to leave.

“oh i love it here,” you beam, almost shy, and he can’t tear his eyes away from the way you look in this moment, pride and warmth written across your face. “it’s just…it’s mine and i’ve never had that before.”

he only nods. “it suits you.”

you brighten. “i don’t have tea,” you tell him, “but i do.have hot chocolate. i know, technically itʼs not in season but this is my house and i get to do what i want sooo..?” you grin, eager to be a good host.

“hot chocolate sounds perfect,” he says, laughing softly to himself with a specific bliss only you can evoke within him. as you moved around the kitchen, pulling out mugs and heating the milk, reiner lets himself relax, sinking into the cozy couch. you hummed softly to yourself, how at home you seemed here, in this space youʼd made. and for a fleeting moment, he imagined coming here every evening, finding you here, waiting for him. it was silly but it made him giddy.

you finish and bring the hot chocolate over, handing him a chipped mug filled with the warm, rich drink, and he takes it. you settle beside him, watching as he takes a sip, his eyes closing as the sweet liquid pools into his mouth. it was rich, sweet, with just a hint of something extra—cinnamon, maybe? it was unexpected, and he smiled to himself. it tastes like you, somehow, although he doesnʼt yet have evidence to back that statement up. he wonders if you know how good it feels just to sit here, to be near you, to let himself soften in your presence.

“thanks.”

the night wears on and a gentle drowsiness settles over you. fighting back a yawn, glancing at the clock, realizing how late it’s gotten and he’s already reaching for the mugs on the table.

“let me help you with those,” he says, gesturing to the mugs on the table.

“oh,” you say, a little flustered, “you don’t have to—”

but he’s already at the sink, sleeves rolled up as he rinses the chocolate stained mugs, his movements practiced like he was made for a life of domesticity. the sight of him washing your dishes, his large hands so gentle and careful, tugs at something deep inside you. he’d be a good father, you think suddenly, your heart skipping a beat at the thought. he has that quiet strength, that steady patience, the kind of man who’d hold a child like they were made of glass. he turns, catching you watching him, and you can feel the blush creeping up your cheeks.

“what?” he asks softly and you shake your head, shrugging. “nothing.”

he walks back over, stopping just a little closer than before, closer than friends should be. you rise from your reclined position on the couch, his eyes follow you. he’s not sure what to do with the tension hanging between you, but he knows he can’t look away.

“reiner,” you whisper, voice barely audible, your eyes soft and warm as they meet his. you rise just slightly on your toes, fingers reaching for his hand where it lingers behind your ear, drawing it down and entwining your fingers with his. his heart stutters as he feels your grip tighten. you lean in, your lips brushing against his in a kiss so soft, so tender, that he feels something in him unravel, something he’s held tightly for so long finally slipping free. you part slowly, his breath hitches, lips still tingling from your kiss, and he instinctively darts his tongue out to wet them, savoring the lingering taste. a faint sweetness coats his mouth, the subtle warmth of chocolate mingling with the softness of you. it’s rich and a little bitter, melting slowly on his tongue, leaving him wanting more of the quiet indulgence that you’d just shared.

and then, without warning, he feels the tears start to fall, warm and wet against his cheeks, spilling over before he can stop them. he tries to pull away, tries to hide it, but your hands are there, steady and sure, cradling his face as he breaks, his shoulders shaking with the force of emotions he can’t contain.

you pull back, eyes wide, a flicker of panic crossing your face as you take in his tears, the way he’s falling apart in front of you.

“reiner?” you whisper, voice filled with worry. “are you okay? did i do something wrong?”

he quickly shake his head no, tries to find the words, but all he can manage is a choked sob, his voice thick and broken as he tries to speak. “i’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible. “i just…i never thought iʼd feel this way.”

your expression softens, and you pull him closer, your arms wrapping around him as he clings to you, letting himself be held, letting himself fall apart in your embrace. he clings to you, burying his face in your shoulder as the tears continue. there’s relief in the way you hold him, in the warmth of your arms wrapped around him. he feels himself melt into you, surrendering to the comfort, and embracing the way he’s laid himself bare before you.

“i don’t want to go back home tonight.”

you smile, a warmth in your gaze that sends a shiver through him. “then stay,” you whisper, voice barely above a breath.

and in that moment, he knows he doesn’t want to be anywhere else.

[ohdeerfully]

omg hi! I love your writing! I had an alastor x reader request for an idea I can’t get out of my head! Imagine him and the reader secretly pining for each other as besties but just can’t admit it to each other (or themselves lmao). So alastor talks to Rosie about it and she is so shocked that he likes a girl! And after some time the reader decides to go ask Rosie for advice due to her being alastor other bestie and she kinda plays matchmaker for them!

Thank you for reading this and I hope you like the idea! No worries if not tho 💖

hi love! i split this into two parts (second part is already written and posted!), i hope that's okay! reader is also i love mutual pining its so yummy

thanks for the request!

Mutual Dilemma (i)

Alastor x Reader part i part ii TW: none!

join my discord!

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Alastor knew plenty of things about himself and those around him—this was something of a skill he gained throughout his time in Hell as an Overlord. His all-smiles personality, at least to those that didn’t take the ‘myth’ of the Radio Demon seriously enough, earned him plenty of trusting acquaintances that provided him with constant, easy information. He was always confident in this way of things.

But you—just some seemingly ordinary demon at the Hazbin Hotel—you confused him. You made him unsure of himself. When it came to you, there were so many unknown, confusing emotions that made his mind and body swirl with discomfort. There was only one thing he could accept within himself as truth–

He hated you. 

He hated you simply for the fact that he didn’t understand you, and you made him doubt himself. Alastor was so used to picking apart the inner workings of those he came across, but everytime the two of you interacted he always found his mind lost and unable to think as if he were a drunk man. Maybe you were doing it on purpose to taunt him; you were placed here by Heaven itself to torture him.

Truthfully he wanted to avoid you at all costs in order to preserve what was left of his sanity, but as time passed it became increasingly difficult as you were aggravatingly involved with the various hotel matters. You had quickly become close friends with Charlie Morningstar herself, so where she was you were likely nearby… so it was nearly impossible to not see you everyday considering his own duties to the hotel.

Currently he had sat himself on an eccentric red armchair in the lobby, hands politely folded over his lap as he observed the conversation in front of him—Vaggie, Charlie, and you were discussing some plan to attract more residents to the hotel, sitting cross-legged by a low table. The group would rarely turn to him for any input, but that matter didn’t really bother him—he was never much help, anyway.

Every now and then Alastor would catch your eyes tentatively look away from the spread of papers on the table to take a peek at him, and each time he would stare back in his usual manner; a spreading, malicious grin and slight tilt in the head, which always made you shoot back to attention to your task. He wasn’t sure why you kept looking, though, but he just chalked it up to the typical sense of fear and anxiety demons usually felt in his presence.

He didn’t fail to notice the light pang in his chest each time he caught your eyes—a weird, twisting feeling of emotion that he couldn’t recognize. He wanted nothing more than to tear those eyes of yours right out for even looking his way since they seemed to be the culprit of the discomfort; but, at the same time, it was like a mysterious force held him incapable of laying a hand on you and cursed his body with even more of those strange feelings at the mere idea of you being hurt.

It was something he never really cared to explore too deeply within himself as he was content with simply believing it would pass with time. 

◈

You, on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to explore the strong emotions that you actually were able to recognize as love; or, something similar… love was a strong word to use when referring to the Radio Demon of all creatures in Hell.

Still, it hurt your soul to see the complete and utter lack of care towards your existence in general that he seemed to hold for you. He played friends when it mattered, which was particularly in cases like this when Charlie, Vaggie, him, and you were all trying to plan something—with mostly Charlie doing the work, you were kind of just her yes-man—but otherwise he seemed to just… avoid you. Ignore you unless it came with some benefit.

Everybody knew how the Radio Demon went about relationships, and you weren’t any less wise, but it still hurt. You could convince yourself to be happy with just a friendship with the guy, but even that was impossible when any opportunity you had to get closer to him was met with that deranged grin. You couldn’t find yourself afraid of it, though, because alongside the swimming malice in his crimson eyes there was also a hint of… confusion or doubt, like a child learning something terrifying or life-changing. Of course, maybe you were just delusional.

Charlie’s hand brushed against your arm, and you realized you had just been staring blankly at the small spread of papers on the black wooden table in front of you. You blinked a few times, startled by the sudden tug into reality, but smiled once you realized what you had been doing. You sheepishly apologized before asking her to repeat her question.

“Actually…” She said slowly while holding her knees with her hands and rocking backwards. “It’s pretty late… you seem tired. Let’s call it a night?”

“Are you sure?” You asked, stifling a yawn. You hadn’t even noticed exhaustion creeping upon you, but it seemed to swing in full force when she mentioned it. “I know this is important to you.”

“And the comfort of my guests is more important!” She stated proudly, standing up alongside her girlfriend. She held out a hand to you, which you took gratefully. You grimaced at the stiffness in your legs as you stood and placed a hand against your back as you craned your spine to crack it.

“Alright,” You sighed after Charlie urged you to get some sleep again. You waved her goodbye before her and Vaggie left the room, leaving you… and Alastor. He was getting up from the armchair just as you turned around, and you quickly tried to think of something to say, desperate for a conversation. Why was your heart beating so fast? You were going to embarrass yourself.

“You better run along, now,” Alastor said when he noticed you lingering. His voice being directed at you made goosebumps run up your arms. He had his hands folded together behind his back and he bent slightly at the waist to loom over you. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint our dear princess now, would we?”

“And you?” You asked back. You knew he didn’t really sleep, you were just hoping to make conversation. He narrowed his eyes slightly down at you.

“I’ve planned a trip to Cannibal Town,” Alastor explained with closed eyes, straightening himself to stand to his full height. He opened his eyes again to peer at you—it made you nervous to be the subject of his bright red gaze. “I have a dear friend I’ve been meaning to see.”

You nodded absently in response, Rosie’s face immediately coming to mind. You were good friends with her, and knew of the mutual connection the three of you had. You wondered briefly if you should go to her about your latest troubles. Before you could think of anything else to add to the current conversation, he bid you goodnight and briskly left the room. He seemed unnaturally hurried in his pace, but you didn’t think much of it. He had a tendency to just be a bit weird.

A breath that you didn’t even realize you were holding escaped your lungs after the large entrance doors creaked shut. You opted that yes, you were going to go talk to Rosie—tomorrow. You were growing more and more aware of just how tired you were as you stood in the silent room. Plus, maybe it would do some good to sleep on your emotions.

◈

Alastor couldn’t comprehend the mixture of emotions in him; he was mad, frustrated, but all at the same time… endeared by you. How could he feel so much disdain and hatred for someone, yet still have some feeling of care for them? He had been able to at least reach the conclusion that he did care for you, but that didn’t explain the pit in his stomach he got every time your gaze met his.

Rosie would know, surely, or at least be able to give some insight to why he was so conflicted. She was much more in-tune with emotions and mentality and all the type of stuff that Alastor had always been so quick to push away from his care. Plus, she was the only demon in Hell that he could even open a fraction of his mind to.

It was a quick trip to Cannibal Town, his legs carrying him faster than usual. He had given a suave wave and pleasant smile to the various cannibal ladies that always swooned by his presence; something that he had never really thought twice about, but now images of you and your own smile flashed in his mind’s eye when he waved. His eyes narrowed subconsciously at the experience.

The door to Rosie’s Emporium was soon being pushed open by his hand, and he lightly stepped in, hanging his coat up on a nearby rack. It didn’t take long at all for Rosie to realize she had a guest—and even faster for her to realize who the guest was.

“Alastor!” She said cheerfully. They shared a quick embrace before she beckoned him to sit with her at a table against the wall, already prepared to start talking. She knew he only showed up when he needed something.

“My, it’s been a minute,” She observed, leaning her head on her hand. It had really only been a week at most, but Alastor decided against contradicting her.

“Truly, my darling,” He simply agreed. “I have a question.”

“Well I didn’t doubt it.”

Alastor hummed, leaning back in the chair as he tried to form a coherent explanation. How was he to describe a situation he couldn’t even begin to understand himself? Rosie was ghostly silent as she waited, her pearly teeth only slightly peeking between the light smile on her lips.

“That one demon at the hotel—a mutual friend of ours—the one that's always hanging out with Charlie and–”

“I know them,” Rosie cut him off with a waving hand, urging him to get to the actual point. There was a new, sneaky curl in her grin as he spoke with a nearly undetectable stammer in his otherwise smooth voice.

“Well… for the longest time now, it’s like I feel… weird, around them. A weird feeling in my gut that I’ve never felt before. It enrages me, and I want nothing more than to just kill them and get it out of my mind, but, at the same time…” He trailed for a moment. He felt a little embarrassed, truthfully though he would never admit it, that he was practically rambling on about some random demon. He felt like a middle school boy.

Rosie’s hand had found its way to her mouth as he spoke, blocking what Alastor assumed was either a shocked open mouth or a wide smile she didn’t want to share. She inhaled sharply, composing herself, before placing her hand back onto the table.

“Well, I’ll be. I never thought I’d see the day that the Radio Demon…” She paused for a moment and pursed her lips, carefully thinking about the next few words as if what she was going to say would blow his mind into a million pieces. Alastor furrowed his brows and tilted his head to the side expectantly and confused.

“Alastor… do you have… a crush on them?”

A comical record scratch effect sounded from Alastor’s cane as his shoulders stiffened and smile tightened all at once. He looked almost offended at the idea, but at the same time there was an odd look of uncertainty in his expression.

“What? No.”

Rosie laughed aloud at the shocked and almost angry looking expression on his face, ears flattened to their fullest extent as he struggled to maintain his cheerful demeanor. His mind wasn’t exploded into a million pieces, but his whole self-perception was definitely damaged.

Alastor, although upset, thanked her for the help, excused himself, and stood quickly to leave.  He was thankful that Rosie was understanding and didn’t try to convince him to “talk it out” or anything. The only thing she said was an invitation to lunch at a local shop the next day if he wanted to talk to her more—she would be there just in case.

Truthfully, Alastor had already started suspecting the romantic feelings building inside of him before Rosie confirmed the idea; he had just refused to fully acknowledge or even begin to accept them.

He, Alastor—The Radio Demon—had no room in his soul for trivial things like romance. Even in life he had refused to pursue the experience. So why were you suddenly an exception to this? Why did you make his heart boil with a confusing mixture of love and hate; why did your presence make his chest feel heavier and why did you, of all creatures in Hell, make him nervous? Not even the strongest Overlords that had gone against him made him nervous. 

Alastor walked back to the Hotel at a snail’s pace, dreading the return and dreading the sight of you. Now that his suspicions of emotion were confirmed by Rosie herself, he wasn’t sure how his nerves would react. Would he finally snap in frustration at how you affected him and just kill you? Part of him hoped to, but another felt ill at the mere thought.

It was late when he got back, and to his luck you were evidently asleep. He paused for the briefest moment as he passed your hotel room door, eyes trailing over the knob before he caught his senses and hurried to his own quarters. 

The familiar tranquility of his personalized, swampy room with twinkling fireflies and light cricket noises helped him clear his mind as he found a cozy spot to sit and ruminate. Maybe he would go see Rosie for lunch tomorrow.

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part ii

[littlejuicebox]

Swollen

Summary: This is another addition to my multi-part Dadstarion series. Tav is heavily pregnant and craving touch from Astarion. He's such a good husband, he happily obliges... but not without making it a bit of a game, of course.

Tags/Warnings: Smut 18+, daddy kink, pregnancy is mentioned but I wouldn't call it a pregnancy kink... just an acknowledgement of the belly, Astarion has a foot fetish, light edging, light brat-taming, light spanking, Astarion being a tease what is new

Notes: HAPPY DADSTARION DAY! This started as a gift I was writing for @tragedybunny and took far too long for me to complete! Also, hello tumblr. My first posted piece in a while. I've finished moving and hope to get back into the swing of things here. Hope everyone has been well!

Word Count: 4K

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Her feet hurt, her back hurts, and she’s incredibly horny. 

The strange contrast isn’t lost upon Tav in the slightest, but the pregnancy hormones have her libido at an all time high. Seven months in with the twins, a stomach stretched almost to its limits, and yet she cannot get enough of her husband. She craves his touch, the feeling of his skin pressed against hers, the sensation of his cock splitting her open. She hears the whispers of encouragement and adoration that push her towards release in her dreams and longs for the moans of his own ecstasy as he follows her into oblivion. 

Tav is, more than ever, addicted to Astarion. Not that he seems to be complaining. 

But unfortunately for Tav, Astarion is still working in his office at this very moment. It’s midday; she has at least a few more hours until there is any opportunity to find her fix. 

After a quick shower and change into her robe, Tav convinces herself that she can be patient. Her feet are swollen, anyway, after her morning in the park with Gale — the three year old is taking a well-earned nap — so she will simply elevate them and wait for the inflammation to go down. After that, dinner preparations and putting their son to bed. And after that— finally— some well earned mommy and daddy time. 

Tav props her legs up on a pillow, closes her eyes for just a moment and… 

She is stirred awake by the feeling of strong hands gripping the soles of her feet. 

When her eyes flutter open, Astarion, appearing before her with the top buttons of his shirt undone, smiles and affectionately squeezes her feet once again. “Everything alright, little love?”

Tav hums a yes and then brushes a few strands of hair from her face as Astarion continues to massage her feet. She moves to prop herself up just slightly, aided by a few pillows behind her back. Her robe spills open, revealing swollen breasts to match her swollen stomach. Astarion blatantly admires the view, eyebrow arching with interest, as she gathers the fabric back together and tightens the belt with a sigh. 

“I must have fallen asleep for a moment,” she says, allowing her eyes to close again as she focuses on Astarion’s hands kneading the flesh of her sore soles. Gods, the magic of this man’s hands— and not a spell in sight. “Is Gale still napping?”

Astarion hums a yes in response. “We stopped early with the ledgers today — it’s Pascal’s wife’s birthday so I told him we would resume tomorrow. I was hoping to catch you two for lunch but by the looks of the kitchen you’d already eaten. So I made a quick bite for myself and then came looking for you.”

Tav groans, imagining the state of the kitchen, which she left in shambles. The maid won’t be back in until Monday morning. “I’ll clean the kitchen later, I just—“ 

“No need, love. I already tidied it. We can leave what remains for tomorrow,” Astarion cuts in before lifting her foot and placing an affectionate kiss on the outer edge. 

“For once in your life, just rest, woman. Would you like me to leave you so that you can go back to sleep?”

She shakes her head and then smiles softly. “No, I’d like for you to keep doing what you’re doing.”

Astarion chuckles, his eyes flickering across Tav’s face and then glimmering with mischief. He glances back down at her chest, now covered, and hums, his head tilting to the side. 

“Which part, darling?” He asks as he begins squeezing and massaging her calf with his long fingers. “This?” 

He continues kneading a few more times before he stops and moves to kiss Tav’s ankle. He lingers for a moment and then trails a few pecks along the side of her foot. She watches as his lips brush against her sole before he takes two toes into his mouth and sucks them lightly. He keeps his eyes trained on her face as his tongue swirls around the digits, causing her to squeal and squirm. Finally, he releases her toes with a sly smile. 

“Or that?”

“Both,” Tav responds, causing Astarion to rumble a chuckle in response. 

“You’re so needy, darling,” he teases, a dramatic sigh escaping his lips, the heat of his breath grazing against her toes. “But very well, if you insist. How could I say no to my very pregnant wife?”

His mouth his back around Tav’s foot in an instant, his tongue teasing against her toes. She gasps in response, her face flushing crimson at the… raw intensity with which he is worshiping her feet and the consistency of his gaze trained upon her face. The slickness growing between her thighs is, frankly, even more embarrassing. He’s done this before, every once and a while, but perhaps with not quite as much vigor. 

Astarion hums when he releases Tav’s toes for a second time, his lips pressing a trail of kisses against her calf as he quickly spreads her legs open. He’s soon on his stomach, his face just in front of her mound, robe expertly undone by one dexterous hand. 

He trails one hand up the inside of her thigh, his touch tingling along her flesh on his way to spread her folds and admire the wetness of her cunt. His mouth hovers not more than an inch away, lips curling up into a smug smile as he views the glistening arousal he’s coaxed from her. His breath brushes against her clit. So close, and yet so far. 

And entirely purposeful. 

Tav attempts to reach down between her own legs and touch herself, to relieve the nagging need at the apex of her trembling thighs. She groans in dismay and drops her hand, gripping the sheet when she realizes the swell of her abdomen is now too large for her to reach her own drenched folds. 

But gods, she needs relief. 

“Astarion,” she huffs, her voice tipping up into a whine as kisses are trailed along her thigh. “I know what you’re doing and I’m not in the mood for teasing.”

Astarion lifts his lips to chuckle in delight at her little predicament. His head tips up; she can barely see his eyes, shining with mischief, over the swell of her abdomen. 

“Darling, I usually have to physically restrain you so that you cannot touch yourself while I’m playing with your pretty cunt like this,” he purrs, a silver eyebrow cocked as his eyes lift and drag across her barely-clothed body. “This is a delightful development on my part.” 

“Astarion, I swear, if you don’t—“ Tav interrupts her threats with a strangled moan as two of his fingers easily slide into her walls. Her hips eagerly buck in response. 

“What you were saying, darling?” Astarion asks, cockily, as the flat of his palm presses against her clit. 

Tav is barely able to stifle the wanting cry that begs to escape her lips as she struggles to speak.

“What was that?” He teases again, as his fingers slip in and out of her entrance, the lewd sounds of her slickness filling the bedroom. He removes his fingers and trails them up to her clit, pressing down and rubbing forcefully, causing a shocked whine to shoot from Tav’s mouth. He chuckles. “I’m afraid I can’t understand you over all the moaning and whining, love. Did you want something else?”

“No,” Tav finally manages to gasp out through ragged breaths, her hips rolling against Astarion’s fingers as he slides them back inside. 

Astarion hums a contented sound from the back of his throat, entirely pleased with her response. “There’s my good girl. Now, how about you relax and let daddy do all the work, hm?” He asks, his eyes focused on Tav’s arousal dripping itself onto his fingers, beckoning his tongue to taste. 

Tav is left with no choice but to obey the command, and simply nods her head before tossing it backwards as she focuses on the pleasure building between her legs. She moans when Astarion’s lips lock against her flesh and cries out as his tongue slides along her clit. He smirks along her drenched cunt, his tongue lavishing the familiar trails of pleasure that he’s memorized after years of study. 

He takes his time, tracing around her overly sensitive nub in expert circles. He hooks his fingers to stroke along the sensitive spot that makes her toes tingle, grinning when he feels them, strewn over his shoulder and curled up in pleasure against his back. He flicks his tongue in the way he knows she prefers, listening to the muffled cries of pleasure that escape as she attempts to keep her voice down and avoid waking their toddler. He misses the way she used to scream for him. 

But she can still scream for him, can’t she? He’s certain he can make her cry out just the same. 

Astarion licks a final strip against Tav’s clit and then pulls back, his fingers still sunk deep within her, all the way to the third knuckle. He roams his eyes over his little love, up to the curve of her abdomen, stretched taut with the result of their coupling. His heart fills with pride as his free hand moves to rest atop her swollen stomach while his eyes wander and settle upon her face. Her mouth is agape, but there’s no sound coming out apart from a soft gasp or ragged breath every time he slides his fingers in and out of her eager entrance. 

Quite a shame, really. She makes the most beautiful noises when she doesn’t hold back. 

Tav’s eyes open, her face flushed and lids drooping with lust. She’s frustrated, he can tell, by the removal of his tongue. Her lips are dropping into a pout; her only response is a huffy whine. 

Astarion clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Now, now, patience, little love,” he chides, lightly, removing his fingers from the wetness of her folds and licking the slickness from them with a hum, all while ignoring the disappointed groan from Tav. “I’ll give you what you want… you just have to give me what I want first.”

Her eyebrow lifts. “And what is that, exactly?”

He grins playfully and presses himself up to standing. On the way to the door, he unbuttons and shrugs off his shirt. He quickly clicks the lock closed and spins around before lowering his trousers. 

Tav is watching him closely; he makes a show of sliding his bottoms down and freeing his cock. His length is twitching with anticipation, begging to plunge into her depths and spill its seed. And hells, she’s a tempting picture. Almost impossible to resist. The thought alone causes a drop of pre-fluid to bead at the head of his cock; he drops a hand to stroke his length. His mind fills with the urge to stuff Tav full and thrust into her until she is sweaty and dripping with his sticky spend. Until it is leaking from her hole and onto her thighs, spilling into the sheets beneath her. Until she smells only of sex and him. 

But he can wait a while longer, if only to make her just as desperate as he feels. If only to pull those pretty little pleas from her mouth. 

“For a start, use those beautiful hands of yours to cast a silence spell for me, won’t you, my love?”

Tav flushes but obliges, her fingers waving to cast a spell she’s performed hundreds of times before, though perhaps not recently, and certainly not in this context. A shroud of silence surrounds the room, insulating them from anything outside the four walls around them. Astarion smirks as he stalks toward the bed, the corners of his lips pulling up in a vulpine smile, eyes dark with lust but glinting with rougery. Quite like the vampire that used to slip into Tav’s bedroll at night. 

He has Tav right where he wants her, and he knows it. He’s no longer a vampire, of course, but perhaps the animalistic, predatory side of him never truly left. He’d always been one to toy with his food, back then in camp, hadn’t he? 

“Now then, darling,” Astarion purrs as he slides back onto the bed and assumes the position he’d been in moments before, his face nestled between her legs. He smiles smug, fingers spreading her folds, wetness seeping from her entrance. “How about we see if I can still make you scream?”

“You are an arrogant bastard, Astarion An–” Tav huffs, a sharp gasp interrupting her chastisement as Astarion’s tongue presses against her clit. Astarion chuckles in response, the sound causing vibrations to pulse against her sex and she gasps again, her hand instinctively coming to cover her mouth. 

Astarion growls in disapproval, extending his own hand out to yank hers from her face, fingers threading through hers to keep them there. She will scream for him; he will continue his efforts until she does. He presses more insistently into that bundle of nerves, swelling now, the result of his ability to play her body perfectly. Tav bucks and a fresh bit of slickness covers his chin. He dips his head lower, tongue sliding against her slit and down further to lap at the oasis between her legs. 

She always tastes divine. 

His lids flutter closed as he inhales the heady aroma of her arousal and tastes the musky sweetness of her sex. His cock throbs at the familiar combination. He laps eagerly and then returns his attention to her clit, using his free hand to plunge two fingers into her entrance and curl, landing on the spot that makes her cry for him. Tav bucks in response, her hips lifting up and against his face, silently pleading for more.

Silently.

Oh. She’s remaining quiet on purpose, isn’t she?

That won’t do. 

Astarion lifts up and away from Tav, his eyebrow arching in somewhat of a challenge. He unconciously licks at the slickness on his lips as he huffs, “Must you insist on being a brat?”

Tav’s eyebrow lifts in return, her gaze steady as she stares back at him, straining to keep her chest from heaving. “What? You thought this would be easy? That I would be easy? Not the first time you’ve miscalculated, my love.” 

“Really,” Astarion says as his eyes narrow, the hand that had been threaded through Tav’s fingers pulling away. He grips into the plushness of her ass, holding her firmly in place. “Don’t pretend I didn’t have you screaming for me in the Elfsong with nothing more than my tongue, Tav.”

“It’s been so long since then, I can hardly remember— ah—!” 

Astarion laves her clit with renewed vigor, his fingers pumping in and out of her entrance in rapid time. His hand grips into Tav’s flesh, holding her against him and minimizing the movement of her hips. His tongue swirls around and around in steady circles, fingers curled to press back against the spot that makes her gasp with every thrust. He can sense she is holding back, in the trembling of her thighs and the movements of her hands, firmly fisted into the bed sheets. He can also tell she’s not far from reaching her peak.

But far enough. 

He can keep her on the edge, like he used to quite frequently, when the taste of her blood was made better by the taste of her wanton anticipation. Back when he would latch onto her neck and suckle more for comfort than sustenance, keeping himself on the edge just as much as he’d kept her there. 

More, perhaps, in truth. 

Astarion rolls his hips at the thought, stiff cock dragging along silken sheets, and lets out a moan of his own. No longer thirsting for blood, but the memory of the intense, desperate thirst and the feeling of utter satiation still causes his desire to flare. 

Nothing and no one has ever or will ever satisfy him as much as Tav. That much is certain. 

Astarion almost gives in and lets Tav come. Almost gives in to the desire to taste her ecstasy in the only way he can, nowadays. Almost. But just before her thighs are about to clamp around his head, he remembers the game at hand. His pride wins out. He slows his fingers and reduces the pressure from his tongue, grinning when he hears Tav whine. 

“You absolute bastard!” Tav hisses, fist pounding into the mattress. 

He chuckles, fingers lazily dragging in and out of Tav’s entrance as he lifts his head up to once again peer over the swell of her abdomen. His eyes lock onto her exposed chest, tits swollen and stretched, skin glistening with sweat. He licks his lips; he can taste nothing but her. He trails his gaze upward, to the sharp, narrowed eyes glaring down at him and smirks as he slowly lifts himself onto his knees. 

“Is that really any way to speak to the father of your children, my love?”

“Is this really any way to treat the mother of your children, darling?”

Astarion pouts, a fake jut of his lower lip before his expression pulls up into a smile, just a bit arrogant, but mostly sweet. “You know what I want, darling. Stop being stubborn. Just give it to me, and I will give you what you want, hm?” 

“You’re going to have to try harder, then, Astarion,” Tav responds, her eyebrow arching again. She lifts her chin in another bit of a challenge. “Or perhaps you just aren’t as skilled as you once were, hm?”

Astarion’s eyes flash something fierce. “Now, now, darling. I know you don’t mean that. Take it back.”

“Make me,” she replies, the challenge a clear invitation as her face flushes in anticipation, eyes shimmering with desire. 

Oh, so that is how it’s going to be, then. 

He’d been much gentler with Tav, in her first pregnancy, far too unsure about the safety of such activities. But this time around, and after much assurance from both Tav and Shadowheart, Astarion has grown quite used to being a bit more… typical in his activities with his wife. He’s rolling her onto her stomach in an instant, pillows dragged lower to cradle her abdomen, fingers digging into her thighs. 

“Is this what you want, darling? For me to take you from behind and make you scream for me?” he growls, skin flushing hot as he tempts himself with the same words he’s using on Tav. His engorged cock is begging for attention. 

But not yet. 

Not until she gives him what he wants. 

Let it be soon.

“Yes,” Tav responds, voice raspy, no longer able to keep still as her desire takes over. She presses herself back against Astarion, the length of his cock sliding temptingly along her folds. 

“Beg, then,” Astarion demands, one hand trailing up her thigh to sit on the curve of her ass. He lifts his hand and smacks down, reveling in the sound of Tav’s delighted keen. But after that, further fucking silence. Tav continues to roll back against him, trying to tempt him into giving her what she wants. 

Naughty thing. 

He smacks the side of her ass again, harder this time, ripping a startled moan from her throat. His cock begins to leak pre-fluid at the sound of her voice mixed with the rocking of her hips. He’s becoming quite desperate, himself, his ears turning hot, cock throbbing, heart thudding in anticipation. 

Perhaps a bit more enticement, then. 

He presses the tip of his cock forward, almost losing control and thrusting to the hilt when he feels the warm suction of her walls. Tav whines when he pulls away and then holds steady, just pressing the tip of himself into her with barely-there thrusts. He purrs, “Won’t you beg for me, darling? Three little words, that’s all it takes.”

A moment of silence. He trails his fingers across her flesh, over the curve of her ass, up the side of her spine, igniting goosebumps in his wake. He rolls his hips languidly, his cock just filling the very entrance of her hole with each pass. 

And then finally. 

Finally. 

“Please fuck me.”

The plea comes out muffled, Tav’s face pressed into the sheets beneath them. Astarion’s cock jumps. He uses the last of his willpower to pull his tip from Tav and slide instead along her slick folds, coating himself in her arousal. He’s won. And yet, he cannot resist the urge to tease her just a bit further. 

“Mm… what was that, dear? I can’t quite hear you past the pillow.”

Tav lifts and turns her head, her eyes wide and desperate. Face flushed red, sweat glistening down her cheeks. She murmurs her second plea, almost a whine, nearly breathless, “Please fuck me… daddy.”

His cock aches. 

Oh, she knows exactly what she is doing. Little devil. 

Without another word Astarion slams himself into her entrance, immediately taking her to the hilt. Tav’s head rears back as she moans, loudly, at the sensation of being filled. Astarion’s length throbs and threatens to spill on impact. He watches Tav, her eyes still turned toward him as she begins to press back into him again. 

“So very eager, aren’t you, love?” he asks, as his hips begin to roll in time with her movements. Before long, he is picking up the pace and she is following. Her walls clench around him in a steady rhythm. His arm wraps around her waist — not a particularly easy feat nowadays — fingers searching for her clit. He finds the nub and begins working it insistently; Tav emits high keens as he rubs his fingers into her clit. “Do you want to come, darling?”

Tav whines when Astarion thrusts into her quite sharply, hips canting at a near-supernatural pace. The plushness of her ass bounces with each thrust, cushioning the impact of his harsh movements. “Yes!”

“Then won’t you come for me?” Astarion coaxes in a coo, groaning as he feels Tav clench and pulse around him, signaling her imminent release. He adjusts his hips just slightly, aiming for the spot inside her walls that makes her come undone, and knowing he’s found it when she lets out a sound that is something of a whining scream. He grins. “There we go… let me hear you, my sweet.”

Another roll of his hips and Tav is gone, her head tossing back as she braces herself on all fours, no longer able to match Astarion’s movements. Her cunt wraps around him eagerly, pulsing against the engorged length of his cock. She reaches a near-whistling shriek midway through her orgasm and the sound quickly causes Astarion’s resolve to shatter. He utters some sort of incoherent praise as his cock swells and then twitches while he loses himself inside her greedy walls. 

He needed this. She needed this. It had been far too long. 

The two are bound together, each riding the aftershocks of release. Both heaving with exertion and coated in a thin layer of sweat. Finally, Astarion runs a hand up to Tav’s waist, settling gently. “Everything alright, my love?”

Tav nods her response and then groans, chuckling softly. “I think… I think I’m going to need help rolling back over, Astarion.” 

Astarion laughs as he removes himself from Tav, arms moving to support her as she rolls onto her back with a labored huff. She ends the Silence spell with a lazy wave of her hand and yawns. Her eyes flutter closed as a hand trails down to her abdomen and rests upon her bump.

“I’ll need you to start making use of that spell more often, darling,” Astarion murmurs as he presses a kiss into her forehead with a smile. His poor little love is already drifting back into the nap he’d pulled her from. 

“Mmm…” she agrees, already half asleep, her other hand instinctively searching for his. He laces their fingers together as he lays down beside her, pulling the covers over them both, intent on joining her for a nap. Best to get their rest while they both can. 

In a few more weeks, sleep will be nothing but a memory. 

[yuesya]

“… The hell is this?”

Zenin Naoya looks out into the ruins of an empty city that seems like something straight out of one of Mai-chan’s favorite post-apocalypse films, and frowns hard.

KrrrgkHSSS-!

“Quiet,” he snaps, and stomps down, twisting his heel.

Beneath his feet, the tricky cursed spirit responsible for teleporting him to god-knows-where groans pitifully one last time, and then falls silent. Naoya would like nothing better than to put it out of its misery immediately, but given that he currently has no idea where he is and the cursed spirit is the one responsible for bringing him here… well, if need be, he’ll need to force it to bring him back, somehow.

Naoya sighs, and returns his attention to his surroundings again.

… He’s still in Japan, that’s for certain. A lot of buildings look halfway-to-completely destroyed, but there are still street signs written in Japanese that Naoya can make out.

But it’s quite strange. Because such devastating destruction on this scale is something that people would notice, and Naoya has not heard anything about any cities being leveled by cursed spirits or curse users recently.

The last one who’d attempted to do such a thing had been swiftly torn to pieces by Shiki-sama. Their decapitated head –which remained alive and animated, somehow– currently still hangs over the Disciplinary Pit. There was a marked decrease in the number of people who dared to test Shiki-sama’s patience following her new addition to the Pit.

Naoya has never been cast into the Pit before, and he has no desire to change things on that front. Not just because the new addition to it is creepy, but also because if Naoya was cast into the Pit, then it would mean that Shiki-sama was disappointed in him. Couldn’t have that happening now, could he?

… Shiki-sama wouldn’t throw him into the Pit if he was late coming back from a mission, right?

Naoya pauses, and scowls. This was–

…!

The young man whirls around.

There’s –there’s some strange cursed energy that suddenly appeared out of nowhere, apropos of nothing. Thick and roiling, all bloodthirst and malice, overwhelming and cloying in such a… in such an unrefined way. Naoya remembers Shiki-sama releasing her cursed energy, less a distinct weight pressing down upon an individual and more just the simple surety of you are going to die, and although this cursed energy that Naoya is sensing is… considerable… it still does not hold a candle to his clan head.

But it is definitely unnatural, and not the sort of thing that your average sorcerer can deal with. Most people are weaklings, and as such must look to those who are strong to protect them. People who are powerful, unstoppable forces of nature –like Shiki-sama. Toji-kun.

(And one day, Naoya will also be amongst them. He knows he will be. It’s why Shiki-sama chose him as her heir, isn’t it?)

Naoya locks the cursed spirit beneath his feet in a trap-barrier, then bolts for the source of the unsettling cursed energy. Special Grade, definitely. Was it responsible for the destruction that Naoya saw in his current surroundings?

Naoya rounds the corner and–

“Hah?”

… What the fuck?

Fushiguro Megumi is the source of this vile cursed energy? And he’s… fighting Maki-chan? Wait, why does Maki-chan have burn scares all over her body? And who’s the pink-haired boy jumping into the fray, too?

The sight is so surreal that Naoya finds himself staring at the sight for a moment, dumbfounded.

But the details click together swiftly enough; that’s not Megumi-kun’s energy that Naoya is sensing, and Megumi-kun isn’t fighting using any of the techniques that Toji-kun had taught him. Megumi-kun also has a wide, deranged grin splitting his face –which is not an expression that Naoya thinks Megumi-kun would ever be caught with.

That’s not Megumi-kun.

… There’s something possessing Megumi-kun?

Holy shit. There’s still someone this suicidal out there? Didn’t they realize that Toji-kun would absolutely murder them for this?

Cursed energy swells, and rises. A different cursed energy signature –one that does not belong to the combatants, or to Naoya. One that causes the surrounding temperature to drop drastically, and between one moment and the next, there is a gargantuan, towering wave of ice that sweeps out–

–primarily targeted at Maki-chan–

And Naoya moves.

[sugarlywhispers]

s.sanemi x reader (fem) | time-travel!reader x hashira!sanemi

a.n; it's placed somewhere before the confrontation with Muzan lol honestly, probably a lot of things are OC cuz i’m still catching up with the anime and i haven’t read the manga, sowy 👉👈🥺 — but i had this idea in my head that’s bugging me and i had to write it lol a.n2; this MONSTER was split into two 🙃 — next part will be posted next week. 😉 i decided to cut it there cuz next part is gonna be DARK and sad, probably not for everyone. so if you just like fluff, you can enjoy this part no worries~ next part is for the babies like me who loooove some tearing, ugly-cry angst with characters' deaths😜 (not Sanemi tho, that man will not die in ANY of my writings💚)

It’s been several months. Months since you appeared out of nowhere in this world. 

Nobody knows why, but you haven’t been the only one. Alongside you, two others appeared. A little boy of six years old, named Riko and another boy of seventeen years old called Minato. None of you have ever met before you three appeared in the middle of the woods, right in the middle of a drawn pentagram on the ground.

You didn’t understand what was happening or why, yet your instincts screamed for you to protect them. And that’s what you did. The moment the monster appeared –of course, at the moment you didn’t know it was a demon– your body moved to stand in front of them to protect them, even though you didn’t know what to fucking do.

To sum it all up, the altercation ended with you pretty harmed, dangerously wounded, and in high levels of pain. For a moment, you thought you were in a dream –actually, a fucking nightmare. But the pain was too real for your mind to fake it. You lost consciousness holding the two boys in your arms.

When you finally woke up three days later, you were in what looked like a hospital gurney. Your wounds had been taken care of and the pain was low considering what you have been through; but still there, making you grimace here and there when you tried to move. The two boys flew their arms around you in a hug when your eyes opened and you smiled, glad and relieved that they were okay.

A man with black shoulder length hair and a scar running down from his forehead til under his eyes was standing a few meters with another one next to him. This other one looked bigger, taller and muscular, with spiky black hair and a prominent scar running horizontally across his forehead. Both of them looked… strange. They weren't looking anywhere specifically, but you knew their attention was on you three.

That first man introduced himself as Ubuyashiki Kagaya and he explained what had happened. Including why, or better explained how you came to be there. I mean, their way of dressing and talking said much. He also explained what the term Hashira meant, introducing the guy next to him as one named Himejima Gyomei.

The demon that encountered you and the two boys was considered an Upper Rank demon, still not part of the Twelve Demon Moons, but just as powerful; able to manage time and dimension. That way it could bring humans who didn’t exist in this era and eat them, smartly going completely unnoticed by the Hashira.

“There hasn’t been a demon able to do this for centuries… I’m glad we were able to put an end to his harm, before Muzan got more interested in its power. And that’s mostly thanks to you,” Ubuyashiki had said to you with a small bow in your direction; the other guy, the Hashira, also followed suit with a bow, lower to show his respect.

The girls standing close to the door in silence gasped at the action of the men, following and bowing even deeper.

You weren’t that stupid to not comprehend that what was happening was something important.

What he explained next was that thanks to something you did, another of the Hashira was able to find where you were and helped you three just in time. What exactly you did to make this happen was not quite clear to you. Or more specifically, Ubuyashiki didn’t detail it willingly. For now.

He explained everything else quite thoroughly, patiently even when Riko would ask something more than twice. He looked like a smart kid, but you could perceive how difficult it was for him to assimilate the fact that this was another world, another time period. Truth is always hurtful. In addition to that, there was no way of going back to where you three belonged. You couldn’t avoid caressing his head each time he asked again something, trying your best to comfort him. He hadn’t cried yet in front of you, and you were preparing yourself for when it happened. You wanted him to feel that he wasn’t alone; by the way Minato also patted the kid’s back and held your hand, you knew he felt the same way.

That same night, when the three of you were alone, you did have a talk with them. You had to make it clear for them to understand the main theme here: You three were in another universe, another world. And there was most likely no way back home.

Minato, being the eldest, understood. He looked of course a bit down, but he accepted the circumstances. Riko, on the other hand…

“So… I’m not goin’ to see my mommy again?” His question broke your heart.

Both your hands cupped his cute chubby cheeks, thumbs caressing in comfort, “I’m sorry, buddy.”

The tears were there in your eyes, yet you refused to let them free. Minato though had to look elsewhere to not let the kid see his tears.

“So… If the three of us are here together, does… Does that make us friends?”

“Oh, sweetheart…” You picked him up, sitting him over your crossed legs and hugged him, “Of course we are! We can even be family if you’d like.”

“I would like that…” His little voice broke and you hugged him tighter, rocking him side to side. Minato sat closer to you and joined the hug. 

“We are going to be okay.”

It was a promise. You didn’t know if it was possible to promise something like that, but you did. You didn’t say it out loud, but you promised you would take care of them with all your being.

This is how your life in this new world began.

So, after a month, you have already settled in the Butterfly Mansion, helping Aoi, Kanao and the other girls with the injured demon slayers that came from time to time. You decided you have had enough with just one encounter with demons –thank you very much. Instead, you preferred helping the ones who needed after those encounters. It hadn’t been your choice completely, but after one boy called Kamado Tanjirou came pretty wounded, with burns around his body that no one knew how to treat due to the infection they had –not even Shinobu– you decided to step in. Your grandma had taught you a lot about herbal medicine, her also being a certified doctor specializing in dermatology contributed to the knowledge. It took you two days of constantly cleaning and applying the ointment you have prepared for his burns and staying by his side to control his fever and symptoms. He woke up on the third day and everyone hugged you in thankfulness. After that, Shinobu asked you to help her to run the manor alongside the rest of the girls. Of course, you said yes.

By the time Tanjirou woke up, you had already been told all about who the boy and Nezuko were. Their history was kind of harsh and admirable too. And after meeting the other boys that joined too, Agatsuma Zenitsu and Hashibira Inosuke, it didn't take much for Minato to follow their steps of becoming a demon slayer.

You were a bit worried if you’re honest. Riko and Minato had become the closest thing to a family, little brothers, in this time for you. Even though Minato was agile and hectic, you couldn’t avoid feeling worried and afraid something bad would happen. The topic even brought a discussion between you two that ended in him yelling at you, “You are not my fucking mother or my sister!”

It hurt. His words had hurt you, however, you could see the regret in his eyes after he said them. He was still a teenager, you could understand his swing moods.

“Apologize, now!” Tanjirou yelled back at Minato just as he entered the kitchen, where you and Minato were discussing. “She might not be related by blood to you, but she almost died for you when you appeared here. She has cared for you and Riko more than anyone since you have been here... Y/N might as well be like your sister by now.”

The moment had been tense, yet Minato accepted Tanjirou’s words and apologized with his head hanging low before leaving the room. You nodded in Tanjirou’s direction thanking him and then sighed. 

That same night you spoke with Minato, both more calm, while sitting outside watching the night sky.

“It wasn’t my intention to–”

“I know, Y/N. It was my mistake. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that… or said what I said,” he admitted, playing with a little ball in between his hands. He wasn’t looking at you, but you could sense his regret. “Tanjirou’s right, you know… After everything we went through, you are like my sister. You are the only family I have now.” 

You felt your eyes fill with emotional tears at his slightly broken voice and one of your hands flew immediately to his shoulder and squeezed it in comfort.

After a moment of silence, and with all the worry swimming at the mouth of your stomach, you said, “If… If being a demon slayer is what you really want to be… then you have my support.” Minato looked at you, face all lightened up with shining eyes that showed how excited he was. “Only one condition…”

“Yes, anything!” He interrupted lively, kneeling next to you and holding your hand.

You looked at him directly in his eyes, before saying, “There’s nothing braver than admitting when is time to fight and when is time fly. Promise me you will choose what’s braver.”

He looked down for a moment, assimilating what your words truly meant, and when he looked back at you he nodded, firm and sure, accepting your condition. You patted his cheek lovingly before he stood and ran inside, probably excited to tell Tanjirou, Zenitsu and Inosuke the news.

You stayed there for a few more minutes. You couldn’t shake the bad taste off your mouth at the idea, still, you took a deep breath to calm your nerves. When you finally got up to walk inside and turned, you saw Shinobu standing at the doors with a smile on her face that made you smile back.

“It will never go away…”

“What?”

She put a hand over your shoulder, reassuringly, once you stood in front of her, “The feeling that he’s on the verge of death.”

Her crude words made you recoil a bit, not expecting them at all. But she kept talking.

“With this mission we have, of fighting against demons, we can’t promise anything. We never know what might happen and would be just cruel to do so, for us and for our loved ones. Yet, you didn’t make him promise that he would be back alive. You made him promise to choose braver,” she smiled again, closing her eyes, showing content. “I think that’s a loving way to ask someone to choose life quite wisely… and unique. He will remember that now every time he is on that verge. He will remember you, and I think that’s the only comfort for you to hold onto to subside that feeling and breathe. He will choose braver.”

The tears ran down your cheeks freely and the squeeze on your shoulder suddenly turned into a hug.

Shinobu has become one of your closest friends since then. Sadly, she wasn’t around often, she is a Hashira after all. But when she was around, you enjoyed it the most. Shinobu taught you many things about what she did and her techniques, but always left you wanting to know more.

You also watched Tanjirou, Zenitsu and Inosuke train some days, now joining them too was Minato. Each of the experienced three boys had their own styles and their own techniques. But none other caught your attention quite intently as much as Tanjirou’s. With some sways of his katana, they would change colors. It was almost imperceptible, but you could see it. Sometimes, they were blue and white, which reminded you of water waves. Other times, they were a mix of deep red, yellow and pink; almost as if there was lava dancing around him and his katana. You became pretty curious about those particular moves. But you didn’t dare to ask him, so you kept to your work.

Now it’s been six months, and by this time, you’re considered a great healer. Especially after a huge attack that left you taking care of and healing almost half the Hashira men.

It had been chaotic that morning. Aoi came running to your bedroom, profusely apologizing for waking you up so early and begging for you to hurry towards the infirmary section. You dressed as quickly as you could and sprinted.

Three of the Hashira men, alongside other demon slayers and corps, were being treated by the girls, Shinobu included. She barked orders here to there to everyone as she tried to hold down a convulsing big man. You recognized him immediately. Himejima Gyomei.

“What happened?” You quickly acted, helping her to keep him still, or at least to try not to let him fall from the gurney.

“A fuckin’ demon is what fuckin’ happened! What sort of stupid question is that?!” A guy yelled from the gurney next to Himejima.

That’s the first time you met Shinazugawa Sanemi.

You were surprised by how tall and muscular he was, the gurney looked too small for him –just like for Himejima. Yet who of the guys wasn’t? Almost all of them were big and bulky. Yet Shinazugawa somehow looked different to you. He had spiky short white hair that made you think not everyone could pull that look and still be considered handsome. Everyone but him. And he had large almond-shaped eyes with purple irises that, for a split of a second, left you out of breath. Well, that could have been more thanks to the force you were using in trying to maintain Himejima as still as possible for Shinobu, right? However, it's the amount of scars on his face that got your attention. He looked like he had done this job for years. And when one of the girls helped him out of his bloodied haori and shirt, his body said so too. Plus the new ones. That was kind of… sad.

“Let go of me, idiot! I’m fuckin’ fine! Go help the others!”

Yep, no, he was a douchebag.

You choose to not answer him back and focus on immobilizing one of Himejima’s arms so Shinobu could finally inject him with some antidote and he stopped thrashing around. Of course, all of this under the yells, protests and insults of the guy on the adjacent gurney.

Once the big Hashira was calmed, Shinobu sighed tiredly looking at the guy behind you, who was protesting quite loudly. She looked at you, shrugged, and turned to help the other hashira, Obanai Iguro.

“Fuckin’ let go!”

You turned around to face him. Shinazugawa Sanemi was half standing from the gurney, pulling back and forth his own haori with the little –and completely terrified– girl who was only trying to do her job and heal him. And at that, you completely lost it.

“Enough!” You exclaimed firmly at him, catching his immediate attention. And everyone’s. “Fucking listen to me, we are trying to work here and your yells are distracting and annoying. You are bleeding profusely from your shoulder, which means you’re going to pass out at any moment now if you don’t fucking stop moving around and get stitched up. So, I suggest you shut the fuck up and leave so we can do our job in peace. Or shut the fuck up and let the poor girl heal you so your stupidly annoying ass doesn’t die and can get the hell out of here. Either way, stay fucking quiet before I put you to sleep!”

Silence. No one said a thing or moved for a whole minute, expectantly. Of what exactly? You’re pretty sure of Shinazugawa’s answer and reaction.

Your eyes were directly connected to his, both sets firing daggers at each other, trying to win a battle just the two of you were part of. It’s heavy, the energy around felt charged and ready to explode at any second. And you were ready for it. This was your place, your job, and he was being a problem to everyone with his annoying remarks. He had to understand that you were the boss here.

And he did.

Everyone was witness to how Shinazugawa Sanemi sat back down on his gurney, grumbling under his breath, but didn’t say any more as he let the girl finally attend to his wounds. Two seconds later, he lost consciousness. You rolled your eyes, approaching and helping Kiyo with the hot-blooded Hashira.

After that day, everyone showed deep respect towards you. You have tamed the Shinazugawa Sanemi, the stubborn and wild Wind Hashira, and that by no means was something small. The word had even spread towards the Master, Ubuyashiki Kagaya, who Shinobu told you had laughed so hard over what happened that he cried.

Therefore, from that moment on, every time the hashira gets hurt after confronting some powerful demons, you are the one sent to heal him.

Because you’re the only one he doesn’t protest against or yell at when you’re treating him. He doesn’t even speak to you more than necessary. He went from insulting your guts one day to not even looking at you on the other. It is weird, but quite honestly you preferred it that way.

Even after several years have passed, he still hasn't said more than necessary whenever you treat him. Only informing you of his condition for you to do your job. But the moments only the two of you share during his healing are spent in silence. However, there is one time he actually says something different.

You are applying an ointment on his forearm due to a burn pretty similar to the one you once treated on Tanjirou, very concentrated on your actions. Gently, you hold the inner side of his forearm as your fingers from the other hand apply the cool and fresh ointment over the burn in slow, tender circles. Shinazugawa never moves or makes any sound when you are healing him, which you find weird considering the deep wounds he sometimes appears with for you to heal. But even though he mostly never reacts, you still treat him with gentleness. You know his wounds must hurt.

You have been like that for a couple of minutes, doing your job while he stays silent. Until he speaks.

“H-happy birthday,” Shinazugawa suddenly mutters, making you look up at him surprised. You then look towards the old clock hanging high on the opposite wall, which marks the end of the day and the beginning of the new one. It is indeed your birthday.

Your eyes travel back at him, but he is looking the opposite way, his typical grumpy expression on his face. You smile slightly.

“Thank you.”

He simply answers with a “mmh”, acknowledging your thankfulness, and proceeds to not say anything else. You try not to smile more than the small curve of your mouth, knowing fully any other sound will cause another argument with this temperamental man. He was leaving with your permission in the morning due to an important mission. Of course, under strict conditions, he would have to travel with the ointment and apply it at least four times a day. He agreed, so you were actually showing him how to use it. The few small pots with the ointment were ready wrapped in a cloth over his bed.

After telling him to send Sorai in case he needed some more, you bow slightly goodbye before leaving the room.

The next morning when you wake up, you find a red benibara flower on your bedside table. Somehow, you know it’s Shinazugawa’s birthday present for you and you can’t help but smile throughout the whole day.

The worry though is still latent.

It’s been years already and the worry you feel is still ineluctable every single time you have to treat any of the hashira or the demon slayers. But especially with Shinazugawa. He is a freaking Hashira –and one of the strongest in your opinion– which means he goes on the most difficult and dangerous missions. He wins mostly every time, but he also breaks his own body with each of them.

You always worry for Shinazugawa, you can’t avoid it. It’s almost like a string always pulling you towards him. Whenever something big happens and everything is chaos around, your body moves on its own and doesn't stop until you find him. Sometimes he’s alright; when your eyes find each other he nods, a sign that he is okay and that you can go and attend to others. Other times he’s a mess; gravely injured, bleeding profusely til he almost loses consciousness. Those times your whole being only focuses on him and you don’t leave his side until he’s completely out of danger.

You don’t know how to explain it. You feel… like you need to protect him every time you look at him.

Is this… some kind of… love?

You snort, sipping carefully from the little cup of red tea you decided to enjoy in the manor’s garden. It’s barely morning and everything is quiet and peaceful. Mornings like this help you analyze things in your head you mostly don’t speak to anyone. Shinazugawa Sanemi is one of those.

How could this be love when you barely speak to each other? Clearly, it’s just infatuation, right? The man is hot –you have eyes, for god’s sake. He is a man who walks with a purpose, filled with a confidence you have never seen before. That’s very attractive.

Now, he opens his mouth and he turns into an ugly ogre. It makes you want to slap your forehead in disbelief. He’s always yelling and bad-mouthing at someone, right in their face. Always threatening to kill, destroy, and many other harsh threats. It completely infuriates you when he treats the training corps –who are too young in your opinion, just kids– like that too.

Even so, he never treats you the same way. Shinazugawa hasn’t even raised his voice at you again since that first encounter where you yelled back. Why? Why does he never treat you like the others?

“MISS Y/N! MISS Y/N! Master Sanemi is in need of your attention! Hurry!” Sorai crows loudly at you, appearing out of nowhere after the first shine of the rising sun appears on the horizon, catching you by surprise just when you are about to walk inside the manor.

“What?! Where? There isn’t any–”

And just as you’re about to finish what you’re saying, Shinazugawa falls from the air. His stane is as cool as always. One leg stretched behind him while the other flexed, his forearm supporting himself after the fall in that one as the green residue from his technique disappeared with the wind he brought. You frown, he doesn’t look injured, his clothes aren’t even thorn or bloody. You could have even bet he just appeared like that and in that position just to brag about his skills.

But he doesn’t move from his position nor look up, which makes you feel something’s weird. “Shinazugawa?” You look more intently, eyes really focusing on his persona, and then you see it. The controlled and almost imperceptibly trembling in his whole body. Oh, his breathing technique is actually what is keeping him so still. Meaning, something’s definitely wrong.

You drop your cup of tea and run towards him when he lets his katana fall to the ground and his body sways a bit to the side, almost losing his balance. 

“Go find someone inside!” You yell at Sorai, who obeys you immediately and flies inside the manor.

Your arms surround the hashira’s torso when you approach him, helping him stand by putting his arms over your shoulders. You realize then how actually big this man is and as he stands, he towers completely over you.

“Hey, I got you,” you whisper, looking up at his face with both of your bodies impossibly close.

His eyes look down and find yours, but they look quite disoriented, and you know he’s minutes away from losing consciousness.

Shinazugawa lets a smart snort out of his nose and a crooked grin flutters on his face for a split second, which, if the action hasn't made you realize the blood inside his mouth and worry, you would have thought that expression was sort of cute, attractive even. But fucking blood is coming out of his mouth!

“You got me?” He whispers softly, tenderly even. He’s clearly in some sort of delirious state and that worries you even more.

“Yeah, I do,” he nods at your answer, his forehead then resting over yours and closing his eyes for a moment; but you decide that’s a bad idea when his trembling legs and your weak strength make you both sway back and forth, unstable. “Hey, no, don’t. Don’t close your eyes. Look at me.”

He obeys instantly, taking a long deep breath as he stands straight and more firmly on his feet. It’s clear his technique is the only thread that keeps him conscious enough. His eyes now look more direct at yours, after several consecutive blinks that help him focus.

“Good, good,” you repeat, putting all the strength you can around his torso as you press him against you. A smile then spreads on your face after looking down at your bodies stuck together. “You look like trash,” you joke looking up at him.

He lets out a breathed laugh followed by a grunt of pain and another sway in both your stances that almost makes you both fall, “Don’t– Fuck! Don’t make me… laugh…”

“Sorry, sorry… I’m sorry!” You cry worried, cursing yourself for your stupidity. He’s barely holding up and you go and joke about it.

He moves one of his hands then to hold the back of your head and makes you hide your face in his neck. It feels… odd. The tenderness in which he moved you. You could swear it’s his way of telling you to not worry. However, you think he’s doing it more for him, to ground himself. You then feel his chin rest over your head.

“Breathe, Sanemi. Breathe…”

You feel him take another deep inhale of air and hold it for a moment, before slowly releasing it in very tiny puffs of air.

“That’s it. You’re doing great,” you praise, and the slightly more firm grip from his hand on the back of your head is answer enough that he’s listening to you. “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay…”

You promise. Even though you didn’t say it out loud explicitly, you did promise.

And, after eight days of constant attention during the day, sleepless nights sitting next to his bed and caring for his wounds very thoughtfully when he finally wakes up, you can’t help but really cry.

You have fallen asleep, sitting in that rough wood chair next to his bed, body bending forward with your arm used as a pillow over a small space on the side of the bed, right next to his hand. It is what actually woke you, his big hand patting weakly and softly on your head. You sat back uptight, eyes opened wide as he blinked several times, adjusting to the daylight entering the infirmary.

Shinazugawa then looks at you, a tiny curve on his mouth resembling a smile on his face, “You do got me, huh?” His voice sounds hoarse, painfully thick.

And that’s all it takes for you to start sobbing and weeping like god damn kid. You hide your face in your hands, letting everything out as you bend over again towards the bed. His hand goes back to patting your head softly, comfortingly. He never asks you to stop crying; in fact, his touch feels more like he’s encouraging you to let it out. And you do.

Relief finally settles in your body… just as that other feeling that warms your chest and makes your body shudder with goosebumps at his gentle touch.

Is this really… love?

[tadpolesinyourshoes]

more od my stardew brain rot for the masses. I present:

My headcannons after life after marriage with the SDV bachelor/ettes:

Its kinda long, sorry and I also apologize for typos or if its incoherent. I'm no writer

Harvey:

You thoughy he worried avout your health BEFORE you got together, oh boy oh boy. He's alaays asking how you feel, bringing you snacks amd water while you work the farm. He cleans you up after the mines (while he lectures you about the dangers). He likes the domestic moments. The days it rains and you stay inside together with warm cups of coffee, snuggled up in the bed. Hes a classica kind of guy. He leaves roses on the table and brings you breakfast in bed. Since hes a doctor, you're both awake early. Every morning is filled with sleepy kisses and coffee. He never leaves the house without a kiss and a 'see you later'.

Shane:

This man is ANXIOUS. Hes a bundle of self doubt and insecurity. He spends his hours thinking how great you are and how itd a matter of time until you leave him. Reassure him, please. He absolutely loves every minute you're with him. Hes acrually a surprisingly good cook. He also is so good with kids. He definitely wants kids after seeing you with Jas. Hes not big on saying how he feels, but he's working on it. Instead he helps out here and there, feeding the chickens (he actually loves doing that), cleaning the house, cooking a meal when you get home late. Little touches when you're alone. His leg agaisnt yours, his hand gently in your hair while you sleep. He loves you more than anything (except the chickens. Knoe your place.)

Elliot:

He is down SO BAD. Carries a picture of the two of you everywhere. He shows you off whenever he has the chance. Hes just so proud of his sweetheart. He cooks well, but he hates cooking so you two agree to split the chores. You're his muse ans you best believe he makes it known. He leaves you poems; post-it notes on the mirror, on a napkin on the counter, written on the bavk of th grocery list, a torn out notebook page in your coat pocket. He loves when you do his hair. If you don't know how, he teaches you. On slow days on the farm, you leave the front door open for some air and you can hear him playing piano.

Alex:

His love language is tackling you (physical touch). You walk through the door and hes hugging you, kissing your cheeks, picking you up and taking you to bed. He can't cook, but he can bake. Evelyn taught him and he treasures the skill. For every anniversary, no matter how small, he makes a treat. He loves helping you around the farm because its an excuse to walk around shirtless and flex for you. He also has a weirdly green thumb. The crops wont sprout and the season is almost over? Send Alex to water them. The next moening you have a bounty like no other.

Sam:

He has ADHD so he does that peguin pebbling thing where he finds random objects and brings them to you because 'this reminded me of you.' He can't cook. For the love of yoba don't let him cook unless you want to remodel your kitchen. He still tries to be sweet though. Hes not a morning person, but when you wake up early he stumbled put of bed, hair messy, eyes closed and follows you like a sad puppy. Hes so clingy. Like SO clingy. Personal space. Gone. He talks to you through the bathroom door, holds you while you sleep, wants to be next to you all the time. He also loves your animals, especially the chickens. He has one favorite, but he won't say it (he might hurt the others feelings). Sometimes you come back from town and hes sitting outside on the porch talking to the chickens, who look strangely invested.

Sebastian:

He loves you so much, but he hates that everyone KNOWS he loves you. You gush about the sweet things he does to your friends and he goes bright red in the ears. The townsfolk ask about you so he tries to avoid having to talk to them. When you're alone though, he's the total opposite. Hes quiet, sure, but he does whatever he can to help you out. A kiss on your cheek before he goes to water the crops for you. Makes you a cup of coffee after work. When he was little, robin taught him how to carve and widdle. He makes you cute wooden figures, usually modeled after your animals. He takes you to the city for weekend date nights. He asks you to go on rides just to feel your arms around him.

Leah:

She treats you like the most beautiful painting shes ever layed her eyes on. When you're sitting with her on the beach, she'll paint dancing swirls up your arms to your hands. (Maybe you get it tattooed one day and she cries). All the paintings in your house are made by her. Much like Elliott, youre her muse. She makes you sit so she can paint you or practice sketching. But she can never get enough of you. When you lay together, she meticulously traces the shapes of your body. Your hands, your nose, your hips. Everything about you is perfect to her.

Emily:

She's a free, creative person. She wakes you up late at night to look at the stars and dance by the river. Shes been making a quilt out of scrap fabric for your bed. She tries to tesch you how to sew it so you cam be a part of it. She helps you with the crops and picks fresh vegetables when theh grow so she can make you beautiful dinners. She loves to cook for you because you always have something good to say about it. She could be on food network, you swear it. Every day when she gets ready, right after putting on her lipstick, she kisses your cheek to leave a little mark. You leave it there while you do your chores.

Penny:

Penny is naturally an early bird. She wakes up each morning with you. You two share a few minutes of quiet before stsrting coffee. You take turns making breakfast. Penny is so used to keeping the house up by herself after living with Pam, so being with you is a breath of fresh air. But she still likes to help you out. So before going to teach the kids, she helps out in the garden. You pass by in town while shes walking the kids home. You join them on their walk and Jas starts asking you for that princess story again. As you tell it, you see Penny's cheeks go pink. Its only the story of how you met. But to you it felt like a fairy tale. You walk home with your wife every day, sharing stories of your day while settling down on the porch.

Abigail:

Shes high energy. She heard about it, she wants to try it. Take her to the city to a nigt club and she'll dance circles with you all night. She makes you matching bracelets and you never dare to take it off. When you go down to the mines, she wants to come with. She doesn't fear them, but that scares you. You have to convince her to stay with the farm every time. But you always bring her a beautiful gemstone back. You think the amythest brings out her eyes. Shes a decent cook, actually. Contrary to what Sam and Sebastion may say. Her recipes are odd, but somehow, they always work out. Shes not a morning person, she won't get up even if you shake her. But somehow she knows if you forget to give her a kiss on your way out the door.

Haley:

She takes a million pictures of you. She loves to. You hide your face, she tells you how much she likes your smile. You're working on the farm and hear the shutter click. She likes the ways your arms look when you roll up your sleeves. After a long day in town, you bring her flowers. Shes always waiting up for you. She likes to slow dance in the living room and hear about your adventures from the day. She tells Alex about how great you are. Everytime you walk by and catch her off gaurd, she fixes her hair so she 'looks nice'. You just kiss her and tell her she looks nice all the time.

Maru:

She loves to help you out on thr farm. Just not... conventionally. She is her father's daughter, so shes always making you new inventions to make the farm run smoother. Better fertilizer, fresh feed thst produces better eggs, though she was banned from tending the animald after one of her feeds turned your chickens eggs bright pink. She loves to walk around town with you, always with your hand in hers. She's not a cook, but she still tries to learn from you. Shes learning, but she mostly just likes getting to be near you while you cook.

[komitose]

Ok so spoiler alert but I have no idea how to compose ideas into something coherent and have no idea how to really use Tumblr yet so read at your own risk LMAO anyway here's that au idea except Ive already started sketching out stuff for it(it's all wips/concepts so don't judge)

spoilers for Endgame after the cut and CW for messed up face and exposed muscle. Also this Lamb is named Ewein, I just really am not a fan of the name Lambert 🥲

so the AU is called A Heavenly Nightmare(aka what the fanfic would be called) and if you didn't see my earlier post this idea started with me thinking it was weird how all the bishops get their special little hell after the Lamb kills them but Nari doesn't get one after we beat him so i decided that joining the cult should be his purgatory HOWEVER purgatory is basically a permanent timeloop for the Bishops when we run into them so i tried figuring out how to make it work anddd Nari is the only bishop to have second phase(cause hes final boss but whatever) so in this au, when we beat his first phase thats when his purgatory offically "starts" but its messed up cause of course it is. Purgatory IS Nari's domain, he knows it better than anyone AND unlike the other bishops he had a Vessel so his power was divided and then the crown divided, creating "two Narinders", his Giant form and a smaller version(aka follower nari). The big one loses its powers, essentially falling into a kind of coma state and "piloting" follower Nari who retains part of his power while Ewein continues to hold the rest along with main control over the crown. Ewein spares Nari while unaware of the split however they hold absolutely but a lot of anger and a big ass grudge against him for demanding their sacrifice(spoiler its a narilamb au LOL) but Nari's new body cant handle his powers and ends up in a similar state to his original body aka catatonic and stuck in nightmare like situations that turn purgatory into warped versions of the cult and a lamb who keeps killing him so when Ewein eventually rescue Aym and Baal, they explain whats really happening and Ewein has to learn to control their own godhood in order to help a god who they think is getting what he deserves while also having strange dreams about Nari and killing him. It's gonna take them a long time before they even realize that they can talk to him...

this is just like a general idea but ya

also this last wip is Ewein finding big Nari with the help of Aym and Baal who are kinda more like spirits after Ewein kills them the first time? almost like the little demon versions of followers but look like themselves. idk theyre just stuck in the afterlife til Ewein gets the necklaces and can revive them but they can touch them and stuff during that sketched scene

[waywardqueen411]

A New Legacy - Hogwarts Legacy x Harry Potter Crossover - Part 1

Summary:

After a rather brutal encounter with Ranrok's loyalists, the Hero of Hogwarts finds herself falling through time and space entering a world that's almost home, but not quite. Of course there's nothing else to do aside from adapt, improvise and overcome.

Part 2

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

A/N: Hi there! I'm new to posting on tumblr, but I've just finished Hogwarts Legacy and I need to write this fic. Please reblog and let me know your thoughts!

Warnings: Violence, Major character death, the tiniest bit of angst, spoilers for Hogwarts Legacy

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Female!Reader, Ominis Gaunt x Female!Reader (more to be added on as the story progresses)

The camp was one of the bigger one's as of late. Almost as big as one of the mining sites. You wondered how you'd let such a large following build up, mentally scolding yourself. You considered it a truly lucky coincidence that thus far, it seemed that Ranrok hadn't confided his true plans to any of his commanders - but you couldn't be certain that knowledge of the truth of ancient magic died with Ranrok amongst his ranks.

You hoped that Ranrok was selfish enough to have never told anyone the truth.

A moment later, you quickly spotted your chance to attack, as both the guards lowered their weapons for a cup of tea. You were about to step forward, disillusionment charm and all, when you heard the sound of twigs snapping behind you.

Silently, you turned around but saw no one. There was a strange glint, however, as light reflected off of something that wasn't there.

You sighed softly, backing up slowly until you were next to the disillusioned figure, before pulling both of your best friends to hide behind a nearby bush.

"What the hell do you two think you're doing here?" you asked in a whisper-yell. Sebastian held his hands up in surrender.

"I swear, it wasn't on purpose," he replied.

"Its true," Ominis said in a hushed voice. "Sebastian convinced me to come see him in the woods when we stumbled across the goblin camp."

You glared at them both, but felt a pang of sympathy run through you. The relationship between Ominis and Sebastian had been strained at best, and you were almost glad to see them together.

"He's telling the truth, Snidget," you smiled softly at the nickname - something Seb had taken to call you whilst the two of you practiced quidditch in the late hours of the night.

"Snidget?" Ominis repeated, clearly holding back his laughter.

"Piss off, Omi," you mumbled, but the smile on his face did not dissipate.

"Enough talking," Sebastian said, blushing faintly. "Are we going to sit around and hide, or are we going to kick some goblin butt?"

Ominis and Sebastian both look determined. You sighed softly.

"Something strange is happening here," you said and they shot each other identical looks of concern, "These goblins have been gathering for weeks, ever since I - ever since Ranrok's death. I think they're planning something - something that would continue his work."

"Well we can't have that now, can we?" Ominis asked, his wand held out steadily. You sighed.

"I don't suppose there's any convincing the two of you to go back to the common room," you said, shaking your head.

"We're in this together," Ominis responded, smiling a little. It was a phrase you'd grown fond of hearing, before the three of you would sneak off on your usual adventures, when trouble would undoubtedly be afoot. It was something you hadn't heard in a long time.

"Alright then," you said, insanely appreciative of your friends, "but keep your guard up. Something is wrong here. I can feel it,"

"We'll be careful," Ominis said before Sebastian could let out another quick comment. You squeezed his forearm in thanks, before going into mission mode.

"Wait for my signal," you said, before directing your friends out. The three of you split up, so that each of you were attacking from a different direction.

You walked forward slowly. There were nine guards - excessive, but handleable, especially with your friends near by. You silently removed the charm before standing up and walking towards the three cloest to you.

"Lovely night tonight," you commented, grabbing the attention of all the goblins on guard. "Confringo!" you cast in the moment it took them to realize what was going on. Sebastian and Ominis removed their charms immediately and began their attack.

Spells flew everywhere. A Leviosa from Sebastian shot past your ear. You ducked and rolled past the attack of a goblin, breaking his shield with your own Protego. Ominis shot a blasting curse. You felt the heat from it against your back, You shot curse after curse. Three goblins became two. Two became one. You felt Sebastian's Glacius brush past your arm. Goblins attacked all around you.

You cast one last Incendio and the woods went silent.

"Everyone alright?" you asked, gasping for breath slightly. Sebastian nodded, and Ominis gave you a thumbs up from where he was keeled over in front of the body of a dead goblin.

You looked to Sebastian again. Sweat dripped down the side of his face and he had a small gash on his lip. "You're hurt," you said softly, walking over to him and brushing over the injury gently with your thumb. Sebastian winced, his brown eyes meeting yours.

"I'm fine," he said, reaching into his pocket and taking a small sip of healing potion. The cut vanished before your eyes and you smiled softly.

"Let's keep going," you said. "Ominis?"

"I'm ready," he said, standing upright with his wand extended. You grit your teeth and pushed past the body of the goblin in front of the gate.

The three of you encountered another two small groups of goblins once you entered. You made quick work of them, blasting and cursing until your throat was sore, before you reached the center of whatever it was the goblins were doing.

"Is everyone alright?" you asked softly, but you already knew the answer. Sebastian had been sliced by a goblin silver sword on his arm, and Wiggenweld only somewhat stemmed the bleeding. Ominis had been slashed across the face by goblin claws and didn't look like he had it in him to speak.

"Brilliant," Sebastian said, his breathing labored as he clutched onto his side. Ominis made a noise of agreement. You regretted dragging your friends into this.

"I'm so sorry," you said, huffing. You had been sliced in the leg.

"Let's get what we came for and leave," Sebastian suggested.

"Agreed,"

At the very least, when you pushed past the door into what seemed to be the main area, there were no goblins on duty. It seemed as though the three of you had caught them by surprise.

"Alohamora," you muttered and pushed past the doorway.

Immediately, you gasped as you walked though what could only be a portal. You friends followed suit and you felt yourself being pushed forward into an unknown room.

"Lumos," you cast when you found your footing. The moment you did, you almost dropped your wand.

"That sound," Ominis said, "It sounds like-"

"Clocks," you muttered, looking around at giant room.

"Not clocks," Sebastian said, worry filling his voice, "We have to get out of here, now."

"I don't understand," you said, walking towards the beautiful gold clocks and hourglasses, "They're beautiful," you felt almost pulled in.

"Those aren't clocks, those are time turners!" Ominis said, grabbing a hold of you and pulling you away from the golden hourglass you were about to touch.

A loud bang resounded in the room. A massive explosion rumbled through the floors. You and Ominis went flying across the room.

"You again!" you heard the voice of a goblin who looked vaguely familiar. One of Ranrok's commanders. "You'll pay for what you did. You and your stupid friends!"

Your head was ringing from the explosion. You looked to where Sebastian laid on the floor a good few feet away from you, barely conscious. "Sebastian!" you called out, trying to run towards him, but Ominis held you back.

"We have to go!" he demanded, the walls crashing in around him.

"Go?" the goblin asked. "You won't be going anywhere," he said. You turned to him. The entire room was crumbling around you.

"Please," you begged, "You cant want to die in here with us! Help us!" you said desperately.

"The only ones dying in here will be you three!" The goblin shouted, pulling out some kind of dagger and throwing it towards the center of the room, to the largest hourglass.

"Sebastian!" You cried out, reaching out towards him. But it was too late. The dagger landed on the center hourglass and shattered it, sand pouring out and directly on to Sebastian. A powerful magic filled the room and you felt as though you were going to be suffocated.

"No!" you cried out, tears streaming down your face. Ominis held on tightly to you as you watched the power destroy Sebastian's body, blasting him like lightening - like your own powers. "Sebastian," you whispered. Ominis squeezed you so tightly you almost couldn't breathe.

"You're next!" The goblin screamed. you looked to him and felt nothing but pure rage fill your body. Your hands shook and you saw nothing but the goblin in front of you. Suddenly you understood what Sebastian meant when he first taught you the Unforgivables.

"Avada Kadavra!" you cast out, and the goblin dropped dead.

"No," Ominis cried, but it was too late. You tried to cast another spell. Protego, something, but your wand sparked and failed.

The sand spun around you, enveloping your and Ominis in a storm.

"I'm sorry, Omi," you said, tears streaming down your face silently. He held you even tighter. "I never meant - for any of this-"

"It's alright," he said.

A moment later, both his and your wands disappeared into the sand storm. You gasped, reaching into the sand. It felt like holding fire.

"I'm so sorry," you cried out. Ominis smiled slightly. His eyes looked so beautiful, even in the tragic moment. He held you close and wiped the tears from your cheeks.

"Like I said," he whispered, "We're in this together," he pulled you into his chest and you felt the ground disappear from beneath your feet.

This was it.

You felt a warmth in your chest then, and you looked down to see black sputters enveloping you through the sands. "What-" Ominis tried to ask, pulling away but you immediately pulled him back.

"Ancient magic," You managed to say, and your grip on Ominis tightened. You felt your magic burst out of you, trying to protect you, trying to push Ominis away, but you resisted.

'He can't die,' you thought to yourself. 'My magic must protect him. He's a part of me too. Just as Sebastian was,'

The last thing you saw was ancient magic filling your vision as you held on to Ominis for dear life before darkness took over.

----

Part 2

Let me know what you think!

[swordbisexual]

Jealousy

Rolan Week Day Two

In which Rolan has to identify several feelings at the party to celebrate the tieflings' next journey ahead free from threats. 1.8k words

(cross-posted to AO3)

--

The mood around the adventurers’ camp should lift Rolan’s spirits. They’re alive, after all, and free to take the Risen Road, free of the threat of goblins and power-mad druids alike. He’s surrounded by a party, for gods’ sake, with wine flowing free and a smile on every face, not least Cal and Lia’s. He ought to be grateful for this chance, and grateful to the ones who granted it.

But rather than give any sort of thanks, he only gives his wine another taste, only just barely able to appreciate its full bouquet behind the odd, sharp bitterness than lingers on his tongue every time he lays eyes on Shaxibis.

His relief at seeing her walk through the Grove’s portcullis had been so overwhelming that he thought himself ill at first. She was certainly a sight to make one feel ill, or at least ill at ease: dirty, disheveled, with mud stains on her gambeson and a suspiciously rust-red cast to several sections of her hair. She spoke to Zevlor first, and then to Okta, and then, of all people, to Arabella, crouching to kneel and slip a strange-looking amulet into the girl’s hands that made the child’s eyes light up with an abandon that she had been missing ever since she made it out of the heart of the Grove unscathed. A picture-perfect hero, come back to be lauded as a savior of tieflingkind, with even her scowling githyanki companion looking at her with a newfound grudging respect.

It really did nearly make him sick. Or perhaps that was just Okta’s gruel coming back to say hello, a breakfast gone back to being something to choke down as quickly as possible without the benefit of sweet stewed apples - provided, of course, by one nimble-fingered bard’s beneficent hands.

He still cannot stand to see her, and yet he couldn’t stand the effects of her absence, either.

Perhaps that was why he felt the need to be, in Lia’s oh-so-eloquent terms, a pompous ass.

“I was ready to handle those goblins myself,” he’d said to Shaxibis when she finally made it through the adoring throng. “But why wield a masterwork when a butcher’s blade will do?”

“Rolan,” Lia hissed, and even Cal looked mildly scandalized.

Shaxibis, however, only laughed, throwing her head back in a fit of giggles that was one cackle away from sounding like a mad gnoll. “Nine fucking hells,” she gasped. “I don’t think I’ve ever played a tougher crowd than you.”

She was all wild, reckless abandon, and he was burning with a feeling he still couldn’t name. “Well, someone around here has to have standards.”

Shaxibis wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, leaving behind a smudge of something unpleasantly brown along her cheekbone. “Gods. I hope your standards don’t keep you from coming to the party tonight.”

“Of course we’ll be there,” Cal said, as Lia shot Rolan a warning glare. “Rolan might even have a bottle of something nice in his pack to bring.”

He did have a bottle of Arabellan Dry, of a particularly hard-to-find vintage, meant for opening when he arrived at his apprenticeship to celebrate his success. Fate seemed to have other plans for that prize, though. He’d given Shaxibis another careful once-over, taking in the muck on her clothes and the blood in her hair. “Please tell me you’ll clean yourself up before we arrive.”

What she did next still lingers with him now, hours since. She’d grinned at him, all pearly-white pointed teeth that weren’t dimmed in the slightest even by the split just off center in her lip, and reached out to poke him in the chest, leaving behind a streak of goblin-camp grime along the pristine front of his robes. “Only if you do.”

Now, the sun has long since set, and he’s hoarded the Arabellan for his own consumption, with each pour growing steadily heavier as he watches Shaxibis make the rounds.

She has cleaned up nicely. More than nicely, he’ll reluctantly admit. Scrubbed clean of muck and guts, the only thing that spots her skin now - and gods, but she’s showing off so much of it, much more than he’s ever seen - is an impossible number of freckles. Against her blue-gray-violet skin, they’re an infinite number of constellations drawn out in indigo, from her cheeks to her shoulders and arms, and all the way down the top of her tail. She still favors red, even out of leathers and stitched padding, but the clothes she wears now are hardly clothes at all: a filmy, strappy, gold-flecked thing that only just covers the basics of her decency up top, baring her midriff and back so that he could count every ridge beneath her skin, and a form-fitting pair of leggings slung as low on her hips as possible. Her white hair is sparkling once again, but bound up in twin buns just below her ears, leaving him to see the graceful line of her neck where it slopes to her shoulders.

There are freckles there, too. Too many to count, and yet he wonders if he could come up with their number before the night’s end.

“Stop gawking,” Lia says from her perch on a boulder just to the side. “Are you going to cast the lights or not?”

Rolan clears his throat and takes another sip of wine. He feels warm all over again, but he’ll be thrice-damned if he tugs at his collar right now and give Lia even a scrap of satisfaction at being right. “I wasn’t gawking.”

“Course you weren’t.” Cal takes the bottle of whatever rot Mol charged them - actually charged them - for and tips an unsteady pour into his cup. “So where’s the show?”

“A show?”

It is only the fact that he has a mouthful of very good, very expensive wine that keeps Rolan from spitting it out in a spraying mess. He chokes the Arabellan down with as much dignity as he can muster as he turns to Shaxibis - just behind him, somehow, as she always seems to be at the most inconvenient times - and keeps his gaze resolutely on her face, and not down towards her bare, freckled arms, or her hand where it rests on her swinging, swaying hip as she swirls her wine in the other. Of course, the only spot on her face that is at all safe for him to look at without getting lost all over again is right between her brows. Her eyes are too bright, and her lips are too full, and her nose is too scattered with freckles that he’d get lost in counting if he were to look at them for more than a cursory glance.

Rolan coughs to keep from sighing, then sets his cup down next to his bottle where it rests on a stump. Lacing his fingers together, he makes a great to-do over stretching his shoulders and cracking his knuckles. “There would be one, if anyone here had some appreciation for showmanship.”

Shaxibis cocks her head and smiles, her brows disappearing beneath her snowy fringe as she regards his hands. “Go on.”

It’s a simple bit of evocation, but these are no mere dancing lights as books would teach them. What Rolan conjures up is a burst of something like fireworks, but closer to ground, close enough to touch as they flit and filter down to swirl around in an eddy of magic before winking out. He notes, with no small satisfaction, that Shaxibis’ eyes are wide, and her smile has softened just enough for her lips to part. There: a small glimpse of wonder, a peek behind the larger-than-life personality that’s confounded him this last tenday. The warmth beneath his collar has returned again, but pleasantly so, and he feels a smug sense of satisfaction tug up the corners of his mouth.

But the bubble of pride that swells in his chest is swiftly popped on the points of her teeth when she puts on her wry grin all over again. “That’s it?”

Just as fast, the beginnings of his smile turn down into a scowl. “And you could do better?”

“Oh, I could never.” She presses her free hand to her chest and lifts her wine cup to take a drink, all but winking at him from over the rim. “I’ve only got a butcher’s blade.”

It’s the sound of Lia’s guffaw that punches the last hole in his ire, and he can only heave a sigh and top off his own cup. “Troglodytes.”

As the night wears on, and as the Arabellan Dry warms his belly and softens his senses, he wonders if he should perhaps try expressing some modicum of thanks. “I mean,” he says to Cal, careful to enunciate his words no matter how thickly his tongue wants to slur around them. “She saved… everyone.”

“She did,” Cal replies, his own vowels a little too long, drawn out by a bottle and a half of Ithbank. “You… should tell her. ’N case she forgot.”

And that is what he gathers up what’s left of his wits to do as the night winds down to an end. She’s easy to spot: bright hair, bright clothes, bright eyes and smile even in the fading torchlight. That she’s talking to the other wizard present is of no consequence, truly. Whatever they’re discussing can’t be as important as what Rolan has to say, and he readies himself with that certainty, rehearsing his sincerest thanks in the back of his mind as he keeps his eye on Shaxibis’ hair and freckled neck.

And then the wizard - Gale, he recalls, though surely this man, self-effacing and unassuming, can’t be the very same Gale of Waterdeep that even Rolan has heard tell of in his self-guided study - guides Shaxibis’ hands in a gesture, and brilliant light pops in the space between her palms.

Rolan stops short as something just as bright burns in his chest. Shaxibis turns her smile of soft wonder over to another, to one who is greater, and this time, she doesn’t promptly hide it behind a sardonic twist of the lips. What burns within him at the sight isn’t anger, and it isn’t wine, and it isn’t some other unfortunate malady.

He’s jealous.

Reality comes crashing down, sobering and solid, and pushes him to turn right around and seek out his bedroll. Cal is already snoring, and Lia curled in on her side not far off. Rolan has never been so glad of the silence of their sleep; he can lie down and stare at the stars overhead, tracing out their constellations, which he fancies might spell out exactly what his siblings would tell him if they were awake.

You’re infatuated with her.

Because of course that’s all it can be, and all it must be. And with the journey and his own future suddenly bright again on the horizon - thanks to her, gods damn it all - that is all he’ll allow it to be.

With a groan, he closes his eyes to that certainty, and tries not to see her smile in the curving sliver of the moon.

[usedtobethelegendcreator]

Okay, Pinterest has irritated me, so here I go.

I keep seeing posts of people saying Alastor and Valentino are equally bad, and I’m here to say: yes, but actually no.

See, here’s the thing.

Valentino abuses his workers. He physically abuses Angel and acts like a pervert. He throws huge, violent tantrums when things don’t go his way—remember his hissy fit in “Radio Killed The Video Star”? Also…he licks up Charlie’s arm. Ew.

Valentino is a creep. So is Alastor. But Alastor is not the same kind of creep.

Here’s the thing with Alastor—we only see two of his underlings, Husk and Niffty. The other beings he summons seem to be his puppets. So, what did he force these two to do?

Husk is a bartender in a hotel now. Niffty didn’t even wait for orders, she just started cleaning everything.

Neither are being forced to have their bodies violated.

Hell, even in the pilot, people keep forgetting what Husk said. “You think you can buy me with a wink and some cheap booze? Well, you can!”

From what Husk says in the first episode, the worst parts of his new job are listening to the others “bitch and moan”. And, well, it’s working at a hotel with, at most, six other people in it. It’s not the end of the world.

And, if everyone stopped looking for ways to make the show even more traumatic…you’d see that, at least on-screen, the most Alastor did to Husk was threaten him.

That whole scene was strange in its own way. Husk warns Alastor that Mimzy means trouble. Alastor tells him to calm tf down, he’s got it handled. Husk brings up his absence. Alastor tells him, again, not to worry. Husk gets pissed off because Alastor rubbed his head like you would a cat, and says he isn’t a pet. Alastor says “But you are, haha!” Then Husk brings up the leash Alastor is on.

If Husk has been working for Alastor as long as people think he has, then he should probably know that disrespect is a big no-no. Like, he could have chosen to not bring that specific thing up. Alastor wasn’t pissed until Husk said that. And even then…what did he do, really?

Sure, he had that villain speech. He threatened to tear Husk’s soul apart if he ever said that again. He brought out Husk’s chain and pulled him to the floor. He went mid-demon for a split second. He pointed his microphone at Husk.

But, other than the chain, Husk wasn’t physically hurt.

Angel’s breakdown took a whole episode and two musical numbers. Husk was perfectly fine and eating popcorn in, at most, ten minutes.

Because, as Alastor said in the pilot, “If I wanted to hurt anyone here, I would have done so already.” Husk knows it’s an empty threat because he isn’t currently dead. His soul isn’t currently being torn apart. Yeah, he was shaking on the floor—but who wouldn’t when faced with that, no matter how safe you may or may not be?

So, yes. Alastor and Valentino are both horrible people. They’re both creeps. But, taking what we see on-screen…Alastor is a better Overlord, at least. Come on. Do you think Valentino would let his underlings put a crown of twigs and dead roaches on him?

And, as you all know, Alastor does have morals. No one knows what they are, but they’re there.

Side note: I feel like everyone’s forgetting what usually happens in a serial killer’s process. Yeah, Alastor did kill people, but he didn’t rape them before or after. So, he’s at least got the ‘not as much of a horrible person as you could have been’ award. And as for Hell…people are killing each other in Hell all the time. Duh. It’s Hell. Alastor is remarkable because he killed Overlords, not because he killed.