#but never had the chance to get you alone until that faithful night | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

multi-fandom-imagine · 4 months

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A/n: I apologize if this sucks 😑, been a while 😩

Jealous...he couldn't believe that he was jealous. It's not like he had a right to be. You were faithful, he knew that you would never do anything it was those parasites that wouldn't leave you alone is what he couldn't stand.

His fur bristles seeing one asshole not leaving you alone, the bastard trying to fix your necklace even though you were clearly uncomfortable. Working his jaw he straightened his form making his way towards you. His arm tightening around your hips pulling you too his side.

"You have two seconds to leave my sight before I put a bullet between your eyes." Mordecai sneered.

Watching the man quickly scatter away, a small snort escaped your lips. Shaking your head you placed a light kiss to his cheek as Mordecai's gaze lingered on the man until he was out of view. "You get so cute when you get all jealous."

"Hmp." Rolling his shoulders, he could still feel his irritation hit him. "We're leaving."

"Ohh! I know that look." It was the same look he always had when he wanted to fuck away his own frustrations. "Let's hurry up, wouldn't want you to get more pissed off....more jealous" you teased.

Mordecai harrumphed, feigning annoyance but his eyes twinkling with mirth betrayed him. "Jealous? Of those idiots with half a brain?" He spat, but that was a lie, anyone with a brain could see how jealous he was and right now he had to fix with. Not giving you a chance to react, he used the hand that wasn't holding your waist to swoop down and capture your lips in a intoxicating kiss, pouring all the longing and desire he harbored for into that liplock.

"Those idiots can look all they want. But only I get to touch you." Mordecai had to bite his tongue, he'd rather not they look but he couldn't do much about it.

Chuckling softly, you shook your head as your fingers clutched his tie fixing as he bent down for another kiss as he pressed you into the wall. His hand left your cheek to thumb your bottom lip lovingly when he detached from your lips again, his half-lidded eyes darkened with want.

"We're leaving."

Nearly melting into your kiss, you let your fingers clutch his shirt tightly. Before breaking the kiss your fingers grabbed a hold of his tie to peer up at him.

"I wouldn't mind that....I also wouldn't mind if you get a little possessive. I do like it when you get possessive Mordecai."

A low rumbling growl erupted from Mordecai's chest at your words, his eyes flashing with feral possession. "Is that so?" He practically purred, angling his face down so his words ghosted hotly against your parted lips.

"Well then, how could I ever deny such a request." In a blink of an eye, he grasped hold of your wrist tugging you into one of the spare rooms, locking the door. He didn't care at the moment, his thoughts only consumed by you. His hands gripped your hips tightly, the dig of his fingers undoubtedly leaving marks under the fabric of your dress that only he can see a declaration of ownership only for his eyes.

"How's this for possessive?" Mordecai practically growls in your ear, nipping at your neck playfully yet with an underlying edge. One hand leaves your hips to sneaking under your skirt, deft fingers parting the silky fabric of your underwear. He rumbled smugly when he felt your slick arousal coating his digits even before he touched your heat.

"So wet for me already." He praised huskily before positioning himself against your backside, letting you feel his hardened length pulsating eagerly through his pants.

Any rational thought he had was long gone, you always had that effect on him and since it was you he just didn't care.

"We have the whole night ahead of us. Do you think you can handle another of my jealous tantrums?"

Mordecai rolled his hips against your ass teasingly, his other hand coming around to palm your breasts possessively through your dress. "Or should I show everyone here who you really belong to?" He whispered darkly in challenge, nipping the curve of your neck.

You had to bite back a whimper as Mordecai clutched your hips. "Mordecai...please."

"Please, what?" Mordecai rumbled smugly against your ear, already knowing what you wanted yet choosing to draw it out to further rile you up. His fingers toyed with the slit of your panties, gathering your arousal in wet circles around your clit but never directly touching where you wanted him most.

“Use your words...you can still do that? Can't you?.” He reminded huskily, biting back a groan as you ground your ass against his hard length desperately. God, how he wanted to take you.

But this, this was by far more fun, drawing out your pleasure is just as enjoyable for the possessive man. Mordecai pressed open-mouthed kisses along the column of your neck, sure to leave dark love bites as a reminder of who made you sing.

“Tell me what you need’. I will give it to you, on one condition.” He pulled his fingers away from your drenched folds to pivot you around, smirking devilishly as your eyes fluttered open to meet his lust filled gaze, glasses long gone from his face.

“Scream my name for everyone to hear when you come. Let these idiots know who you're with.” Mordecai snarled, dipping his head to envelop your lips in a hungry, punishing kiss as he delved two fingers deep inside your core without warning, curling them expertly against the sweet spot.

“Now say it.” He demanded against your lips, working his fingers in and out of your tight heat mercilessly. “Tell me what you want, princess.”

A cry tore from your lips as you clutched the sheets below you. "Mordecai! Please, fuck me."

A possessive, feral snarl tore from Mordecai's throat at your pleading words. "Good girl." He rumbled appreciatively, yanking his fingers out of your soaked heat to quickly undo his belt and fly.

Without any preamble, Mordecai spun you around once more.Back now on the bed as he caged you in, hovering above you.

He wasted no time sinking his thick girth deep inside your clenching heat with one deep thrust, the feeling so velvety and tight around him making both of you keen at the intimate reconnection.

His lips crashed down to devour your gasp and moan, swallowing your sound as he set a punishing pace from the get go. The smacking sound of sweat-slicked skin meeting echoed in the still night, Mordecai's fingers digging bruisingly into your thigh wrapped around his waist to hold you in place.

"You always feel so wonderful." He grunted against your mouth, angling his hips to hit that treasured spot deep inside with each hard thrust. Mordecai drank in your features contorting in bliss, his own face a mask of feral rapture.

His pistoning grew more erratic as his release approached, his fingers finding your pearl and rubbing tight circling motions. "Come for me'. I wanna feel you clench around my cock when you scream my name." Mordecai demanded gutturally, pistoning his hips sharper.

"M-Mordcai!" You cried out as your orgasm crashed over you in flooding waves, inner walls clamping deliciously tight around Mordecai's cock still pistoning relentlessly through your high.

A low snarling curse tore from Moredcai'z throat at your whimpered declaration, the sound of his name on your lips as you came undone pushing him over the edge. With a feral snarl, he sunk his teeth onto the juncture where your neck meets your shoulder to muffle his grunts as he spilled his hot seeds deep into your fluttering sheath.

The two of you clung to one another as you both floated down from your shared high, Mordecai still languidly rocking into your tender core to ride out the aftershocks. His claws tracing idle patterns on your hip elicited intermittent shivers from you.

"Are you alright?" He whispered hoarsely once he found his voice again, pressing wet kisses along your shoulder and up your neck suddenly embarrassed, he did his best to not look at you.

He pulled out of you slowly and turned you to face him, his gaze softening at you as he cupped your cheeks.

"I'm fine Mordecai...you don't have to apologize. If I didn't like it then I would tell you."

Humming, Mordecai nodded his head as he shifted his body holding you close as he nuzzled his nose into your neck, you felt so good. Your body nestled tightly into his own, he could feel your heart beat. You were so soft, he loved moments like these. He loved how your tail would wrap around his own. Sure the sex was amazing, it was something he couldn't get enough of when it came to you.

He couldn't help but feel prideful knowing it was his scent, his cologne that covered your body. Maybe those idiots would leave you alone.

Shifting your body, you gave Mordecai a sleepy smile as you gave his chest a lazy kiss. "Do you feel better now?"

Scoffing, he adverted his gaze from you. He rather not admit how good it felt to be within you. He was never good with words, he was still shocked how he even managed to have you as someone like you by his side. "Yes...much better."

#drabbles #drabble #mordecai #mordecai heller #lackadaisy mordecai #mordecai lackadaisy #mordecai x reader #mordecai x you #mordecai heller x reader #mordecai heller x you #lackadaisy #lackadaisy smut #lackadaisy x reader #lackadaisy x you #mordecai heller lackadaisy

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redtsundere-writes · 15 days

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Tyrant's Favorite | Sukuna Ryomen

Part 16: Before Night Falls

King!SukunaRyomen x Servant!FemReader

Summary: You used to be just another servant among the army of humans operating under the command of the terrible king, Sukuna Ryomen. An ordinary human who only knows how to wash, clean and cook. Until one day, he notices something in you that you hadn't seen before.

Tags: MDNI. +18. Murder. Blood. Cannibalism. Sukuna Ryomen Is The Warning Itself. Nudity. Sexual Display. Vaginal. Fingering. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst.

Word Count: 8415 words.

A/N: So... I have been rereading the fic, and it needs a lot of upgrading when it comes to correcting, so I'll take next week to edit the English version of this fic and then continue uploading of Friday, September 20th. Sorry for the inconveniences.

Beginning. | ← Previous | Next →

“My almighty king, I bow before you to beg you to let me leave the castle,” you asked between tears.

“What?” Sukuna, Uraume and Kenjaku answered in unison out of shock.

Sukuna heard you, but he didn't understand what the hell you were trying to tell him. You had dedicated a year of your life to serve him, just killed someone for him, and now you wanted to leave the castle? After he had given you everything to keep you happy and prevent this exact situation. 3 substantial meals a day, a giant room with a comfortable bed, beautiful dresses, fine jewelry, a broad education and a life safe from curses. You must be out of your mind. Besides the fact that you were about to become one of the most powerful women in the world, why did you want to leave now after all? The king had never been so offended in his life.

“I have two more sisters. Nanako and Mimiko. They are barely 11 years old and they are completely alone because Yorozu killed our mother,” you explained to the king with your face hidden between the curtains of your hair and his bleeding hands. “I just want to go home to make sure they are okay. You can ask Kenjaku, Uraume or some curse to escort me. I promise to return before the sun sets,” you whimpered for mercy once again.

That sharp pain kept sprouting from his chest. That strange pang was different from the others he had experienced before. His throat was closing, so he couldn't answer you immediately. He twisted his face in an attempt to regain control of his own body. He clenched his hand in frustration at not being able to correct himself to deny any request you had out of anger, but he couldn't. “What the hell is happening to me?” he thought, annoyed.

In the absence of an answer, you crawled to his feet in the most desperate attempt to convince him at all costs. The mere thought of your little sisters being there alone was eating you alive with helplessness. You were about to play any card you had available to try to convince him. The king was going to accept, whether he liked it or not. After all, it wasn’t going to be an easy task after challenging him in front of everyone, so you would do anything for an opportunity. Unable to hold his feet because of the dirt on his hands, you kissed them delicately to show him that you were still faithful to him. You closed your eyes so as not to think too much about the shame you were going through. You transported yourself to that passionate night you shared in order to relieve your strong repulsion.

The king's face went from an angry red to a deeper, shy red. His body tensed with each gentle kiss you gave him on the back of his head. Little pricks of love that erased his anger. No one had reached that level of voluntary idolatry before. He never thought he'd see you embarrass yourself like that in front of everyone just to fulfill a relatively reasonable request.

“I'll kill as many as it takes to give me that chance, please. They're all I have left,” you whimpered, placing your forehead between his feet.

“Get up,” he ordered, annoyed.

You quickly complied as you wiped your tears with the back of your hand to avoid getting more blood on your face. You didn't look him in the eyes for fear that he would reject your request immediately, it was the last thing you wanted to hear, even though he had every right to do so after threatening him with an arrow that he himself had given you. Still, you couldn't allow yourself to lose the little hope you had. You didn't deserve him to do you that favor, much less to be alive, but you had to try.

"Let me see your hands," he asked you.

You gave them to him trembling for fear of what he would do to you next, expecting a clear punishment. Sukuna turned them over to see the state of your palms. They were completely split in half, blood gushing out every time you squeezed the surrounding skin, and you began to lose feeling. They were practically ruined, it would take months to return to normal. You wouldn't be surprised in the least if he cut them off for your terrible behavior. You looked away, not wanting to see what terrible thing he had planned for you.

“You are very brave to do something stupid like that,” Sukuna said before taking your hands to examine them, being as gentle as possible so as not to hurt you more.

You were going to answer, but something in your hand moved. The parallel wounds began to close slowly in front of your incredulous eyes. The skin folds joined with their equal as if by magic. In less than a minute, your hands had returned to normal. You opened and closed your fist in front of you to make sure you weren't hallucinating from the intense pain. “Since when can he do that?” you thought, confused.

“You did that?” You wondered, still in shock, upon learning that the killing machine was also capable of healing as well.

“It's a simple reverse curse technique,” he explained. “It processes cursed energy, which is negative by nature, into positive energy. As a result, the energy that destroys, becomes the energy that creates and heals.”

“Wow…” You sighed, amazed. You didn't know that he was capable of healing people the same way he hurts them.

“Go change, you look terrible,” Sukuna ordered you before taking Yorozu's head from the ground, handing it to Uraume to take care of it and the rest of his body that continued to stain the grass of the courtyard while you talked.

“What about my request? I really need…” You asked, begging for permission to leave the castle.

“And you're going to go see your sisters in your underwear, with smeared makeup and bathed in their other sister's blood? You're going to traumatize them,” Sukuna interrupted to scold you. “I'm going to escort you. You have 20 minutes to be at the entrance before I change my mind.” He turned around to continue along the bridge towards the entrance.

“Yes, my king. I won’t take long.” You smiled widely.

Sukuna turned around to let you return to the castle, but stopped when he felt your arms around his waist. His body subtly melted as soon as you pressed him against your warmth. Your hands on his stomach caressed his second mouth softly, while your forehead connected with the middle of his spine. A brief gesture that calmed the pain in his chest, undid the lump in his throat, and relaxed his face finally. The king's mind short-circuited as he didn't know what to do in that situation. Take your hands, caress them, push you away so you would leave, kill you? There were many options, but none seemed to be the right one.

"Thank you, my king," you whispered before letting go.

Your hands moved away from him, and he returned to the cold he had already grown accustomed to after hundreds of years in solitude. Sukuna slowly turned his gaze towards you to see you running towards the castle again, lifting your bottom to avoid tripping over the fabric. That contagious emotion placed a small smile on his face. It seemed that everything had returned to normal.

"Uraume, you already know what to do with the body," Sukuna ordered them to leave with the head of his ex-sister-in-law. Seeing her finally dead also brought him great relief.

"Yes, my king," Uraume nodded before disappearing from his sight. Sukuna was about to continue on his way, but he saw Kenjaku smiling from ear to ear with no intention of hiding it.

"What?" He asked him, somewhat annoyed by his strange expression.

“It seems like you are going on a date,” Kenjaku told him as he followed the king towards the entrance.

“It is not a date,” Sukuna scolded him. “We will go check and return before sunset.”

“But do you really have to go? You have a lot of paperwork to do. You could have easily ordered me to accompany her,” Kenjaku argued.

“It will take twice as long if you escort her. Besides, I don’t trust you enough to let her leave the castle with you,” the king answered honestly.

After Kenjaku betrayed King Jogo to serve him, he didn’t trust him enough to leave his future queen in his hands without any means of survival. He had yet to figure out what Kenjaku wanted from him specifically, and it was certainly not anything good.

“So, you won’t take this opportunity to propose to her?” Kenjaku inquired curiously. Sukuna didn't even bother to answer him. "You two alone, in the middle of the open field, the sunset behind you... You would be a real fool if you didn't." Sukuna stopped in the middle of the road and glared at him. "I was just saying it would be a good idea." Kenjaku excused himself.

"Mind your damn business!" The king exploded, continuing on his way, not paying him any more attention.

Kenjaku stepped back, raising his arms in surrender when he saw that he had disturbed him. Sukuna growled under his breath before heading to their meeting point. Your tutor stepped back, covering his face with the sleeve of his long wardrobe, pretending to be terrified of the king to satisfy his intention. "Oh, young lady, you'll need all the luck in the world with a husband like this," he thought.

Your legs moved on their own to get to the castle as soon as possible, you entered to go to your room, but stopped when you saw a large obstacle in your way. Your eyes widened as you took in the small crowd that had formed to greet you. All the servants applauded you proudly for the brave battle you had fought against the common enemy. Your feelings were mixed at receiving such warmth for such a cold act. Mrs. Inoue appeared among the servants to tearfully embrace you.

“You scared me to death, miss!” Mrs. Inoue scolded you, pressing you against her body roughly, as if she didn't want to let you go.

A small smile of happiness for having survived your sister's attack appeared on your face before you returned the hug with the same intensity. Even though you were in mourning, you were pleased that you hadn't involved any innocents in your dealings with the king. Even though all the old people had less time to live, that didn't mean you could deprive them of enjoying them. You gently pushed Mrs. Inoue away. You couldn’t afford to waste any more time.

“I must change. The king is waiting for me,” You tried to excuse yourself, but one of the servants took your arm so you wouldn't leave.

“Then put this on,” she offered you one of Yorozu's dresses.

The fabric was smooth and stretchy, it had a large ribbon at the waist for easy closure, and best of all, it had pockets. You were seriously starting to consider starting to wear those instead of the dresses that were too formal for everyday wear. You agreed without a second thought, it would save you a lot of time. The maid called for the others to hurry up and help you. With everyone's help, they quickly dressed you, fixed your battle-messed hairstyle, and cleaned your face with a slightly wet sponge.

"Oops, I ruined your makeup." Mrs. Inoue covered her face in embarrassment.

"Don't worry, it was already ruined." You replied with a friendly smile before another maid showed you the result with a hand mirror. It wasn't ideal to have the dark circles under your eyes from the terrible night before, but since there was no time for a touch-up. "Thank you all for your support. I’ll be back soon,” you thanked them with a bow before running out to the entrance as the servants waved goodbye to you.

Sukuna sighed as he finally saw you running towards him to begin the journey. You stopped in front of your king, your breath coming in short gasps from crossing the long courtyard and the drawbridge to him. With a different dress, not a drop of makeup and without all the blood, you went from looking like a warrior queen to a decent woman in a matter of minutes. Sukuna quickly noticed your purple dark circles from not sleeping well due to worry. It was a small reminder that despite looking different from everyone else, you were still just like everyone else.

“Where are we headed?” Sukuna asked you.

“To the human commune,” you replied. “Passing the hill, there are several cabins. Just follow the paths.” You pointed towards the horizon.

Passing the scary land taken over by the curses, the large green valley that belonged to the humans began. The human commune was something that Sukuna and all the curses know exists, but it is usually an area well protected by men, a difficult area to hunt. Even though Sukuna could easily invade the area to kill them all, it didn’t suit him at all. Even though the curses follow him faithfully because of his immense power, it is also because he keeps them well-fed. If he killed the commune in one blow, the curses would look for food in other lands and probably start a war against the sorcerers without being ready yet. The commune was like his personal chicken coop, why kill the chicken when it can lay eggs?

“Let’s go there then.” Sukuna crouched down in front of you, arms back, ready to carry you.

“What are you doing?” You analyzed his stance, curious as to why he was almost leaning towards you.

“It’ll be faster if I carry you on my back,” he explained. “So get on, now,” he commanded, losing patience from the embarrassment of being in that position.

You nodded obediently. You didn’t know how you were supposed to get on his big back. You were the one who always carried the others, so you had no idea what to do when someone else had to carry you. You jumped onto his back clumsily to reach out to hug him around the neck. Sukuna stood up suddenly, leaving your feet skidding in the air. With the help of his lower back, he pulled you up a little higher to better support you by the thighs. Your cheeks flushed as you felt his thumb caress your skin.

“Hold on tight and close your eyes, we’ll be there in no time,” Sukuna smiled confidently at his great speed.

You held onto his shoulders tightly and closed your eyes, hiding your face in the back of his neck as you got drunk on his strong cologne. A shiver ran down his spine as he felt your warm breath against his exposed skin. He shook his head to focus on the road. He didn’t want to waste too much time searching for your sisters, it was preferable if they returned before dinner. He pressed your thighs tightly against his body, leaving a light mark on you, before running off to the commune.

You screamed at the sky when you felt the huge difference in speed. Sukuna laughed at your adorable reaction as he ran like a bullet without brakes between the cobblestone streets, secret alleys and the occasional roof between the abundant buildings. Your heart accelerated at the same time as the large feet of your carriage did. The fabrics of their clothes fluttered against the wind as they reached the commune as soon as possible. Sukuna jumped over the wall that separated the town from the commune and finally fell on the green grass that separated the two worlds, without the slightest concern for scaring any poor human who was around. Sukuna continued running until he reached the center of the commune.

The owner of the cabin closest to the wall panicked when he saw the king running towards the commune. He ran terrified to the control tower to ring the bells that announced the possible attack of a curse. The neighbors, hearing the frightening warning, suddenly became agitated and ran to their homes to safeguard their lives in the best way they knew how, hiding. Sukuna reached the epicenter of the commune, watching as everyone greeted him with cries for help as they fled from him like cockroaches from the light.

“We have arrived,” Sukuna announced before letting you get off his back.

You staggered against your weight due to dizziness, falling to the ground in a sit-down. You held your head to make sure you were clear about where you were. You looked at the surrounding cabins, the stunned gazes of those who were your neighbors peeking out from between the curtains. You were sure they were wondering why you had brought the king of curses himself to his safe place, but there was no time to explain anything. You had to find your sisters.

You got up again to run towards your home. “Where are they?” You wondered in panic as your legs moved as fast as they could towards the furthest cabin of all. Your father had built it for your mother when they got married, far away from everyone, because your mother hated the neighbors but loved your father, so she moved with him to his hometown. “Where are they?” You looked around, anxious, searching for your sisters in any possible place they could be. “Where are they?!” Your mind roared in search of answers, praying that your little sisters were okay. A nostalgic smile crept onto your face as you reached the entrance of your old home.

“Nanako! Mimiko!” You burst through the door, breaking it because of the worn nails.

You called out to them over and over as you inspected the cabin, your heart in your hand in worry. Where there used to be a large table for everyone to eat together, a large kitchen with cooking utensils, and an armchair to hang out on, now there wasn't even a shabby rug. It was like looking at a dark, dirty blank canvas. The humidity was breathable, cobwebs hung from the ceiling, and field rats squeaked from their hiding places in the few pieces of wooden furniture that remained.

You ran to what used to be the room you shared with your sisters. The closet was empty, the curtains were full of dust, and the bed was bare. Not even the blanket their grandmother had given them was there anymore. All there was a small white envelope. You opened it carefully so as not to accidentally tear it between the trembling of your clumsy hands. Seeing who had written the letter, a tear escaped from your eyes.

“Dear sisters,

I don’t know if you’ll ever read this, but if you do, it means we’re not here to welcome you. We hate living here, we always had, so we made the decision to leave since we didn’t have anyone else with us. I don’t know where we’ll go, but it will be far from the curses. I hope you don’t get mad at us for leaving, and we can meet again soon.

Lots of love, Nanako and Mimiko”

You held the letter to your chest as you sobbed softly, as this was the only physical reminder of your dear little sisters. They might appear strong in their words, but you knew they were surely terrified. They were facing a completely unknown world, far from the only terrible nation they knew. You knew the journey to human lands was long, but not impossible.

You weren't sure you could bear all the pain you had felt in one day. Carrying the mourning of your mother, the guilt of having murdered your own sister and the helplessness of not being able to do anything for your little sisters would lead to your end. Family was what mattered most, but all of that had been destroyed in less than a day. The house of your memories had burned completely, impregnating you with the smell of smoke for the rest of your life.

“I knew you were joking,” Sukuna mentioned behind you, examining the cabin’s filth with curiosity.

“What are you talking about?” You asked, confused, wiping away the hundredth tear of the day.

“What you said to Yorozu. ‘If I could go back to my quiet country life, I would in a heartbeat.’” Sukuna quoted what you said to your sister moments before killing her, entering the room. “Who in their right mind would trade a life of luxury for a filthy pigsty like this?”

The king scoffed at your stupidity. He walked around the room like it belonged to him completely, even though he had never slept on the hard bed, felt the cold floor with his bare feet, or eaten on the floor due to the lack of chairs. This place was so ugly that he wouldn’t even let his servants sleep there.

“It's not about the cabin, but what was in it,” you explained, fiddling with the envelope. “I was talking about my family, or at least, the one I used to have.”

The bed creaked as it supported the king's weight when he sat on it to take a little break after the tour. Being the same height now, he noticed your sad eyes and the small envelope you were holding tightly. Quickly, he deduced that your sisters had run away from home.

“I can order a search to find them,” Sukuna proposed, but you immediately rejected the offer.

“It's pointless. If they left on the day of the harvest, they must already be in some other kingdom,” you explained your hypothesis as you put the letter in one of the pockets in your dress. “It will sound selfish, but I prefer to think that they are fine than to look for them only to be told that some curse trapped them,” you said guiltily.

“Live happily in ignorance?” Sukuna asked you with disdain.

“I can’t deal with two more deaths, I just… it’s too much,” you said before cowardly leaving the room to drop the topic.

Sukuna looked at you confused, but that inexplicable feeling in his chest came back. He was starting to get frustrated, not knowing exactly what it was. He shouldn’t have heart problems when using his reverse curse technique, Kenjaku thought nothing was happening to him, and it didn’t happen regularly. That discomfort was driving him crazy, as if it were an occasional migraine.

The soft wind greeted you as soon as you stepped out into the yard. You passed the sink and the clothesline to slowly approach the small family cemetery. Your father's small grave was neglected but intact, while your mother's had the earth turned upside down after someone dug there. “They didn't bury her well” you thought, disappointed to see that your mother's corpse had been stolen, it was probably some curse to eat her as a midnight snack.

“Hi…” You greeted your father timidly. “The family split up, and I wasn't there to stop it,” you said as your lower lip trembled.

You hugged yourself to stop yourself from crying again. Your eyes were already fed up, they didn't want to regret the whole situation for the tenth time that day. Biting your lower lip hard, you tried to take your sensitivity by the horns. You were about to give up when Sukuna's hands took possession of your shoulders.

“Your parents?” Sukuna inquired when he saw what he was looking at.

“Yes.” Your throat cleared before answering. “My little sisters didn't build a coffin, so a curse must have eaten our mother,” you added, holding your breath to keep yourself out of the way.

“I don't understand why they cling so much to keeping bodies,” Sukuna said with annoyance. “They're just a nuisance.”

“Because humans are selfish,” you answered with some annoyance. Sukuna raised his eyebrow when he noticed your change of attitude. “Even though we know they're no longer with us, we want to have them close. The soul leaves, but the body is the only thing that stays with us,” you explained.

“Anyway, it's stupid. The body doesn't stay either. It ends up rotting when it could have been the food for a curse,” Sukuna argued. You sighed heavily.

This was really the last thing you needed in your time of mourning. Your sadness turned to anger in an instant. You weren't surprised at all that he acted so indifferent to the situation, but you wished he would at least shut up so you could go through your mourning in peace. You tried to keep your anger to yourself, but it didn't stop you from blurting out,

“Of course you wouldn't understand, you don't have a family.”

Silence invaded the moment. A chill ran down your spine, reminding you of who you were talking to. Your eyes widened as you realized the horrible comment that had escaped your lips. You looked up, thinking he would be looking at you with contempt, but you were met with his monotonous face. That scared you even more.

“I had a family,” he answered before walking away from you to leave you alone for a while.

That answer left you stunned in your place. Curses had been a true mystery for much of your life until Kenjaku came to explain everything you needed to know. These strange creatures are a race of spiritual beings invisible to most humans, incarnated from the cursed energy that escapes from humans over time due to their negative emotions. How can a curse have a family?

A new guilt began to torture your chest. After watching him walk away from you to climb the next hill, you decided to follow him to apologize, it was the least you could do. You apologized and gave your father a final bow of respect for the last time to reach the king.

"I'm sorry, I…" You tried to tell him when you reached him.

"I still remember the face of the one who used to be my mother." Sukuna completely interrupted you as he continued walking the path to the top. "She was a beautiful woman."

Sukuna, before waking up in the nightmare he had transformed into, remembered his past life almost perfectly. He had a mother who was ashamed of him, a violent father, and a twin brother he never met because he ate him in the womb. He had been born with the blessing of having power worthy of a god but with the curse of being a complete disgrace. An evil being that had no way to be fixed. A lonely child who became a sorcerer with black blood. A man thirsty to destroy everything that stood in his way. He may have disappointed many people, but never himself.

“I didn't know that…” You stuttered upon hearing about his sad past.

“Not even Uraume knows,” you confessed.

“Really?” You asked, stupefied.

“You're the only one who knows now,” Sukuna looked at you. “You've earned it after what you did for me today.”

“I didn't kill my sister for you. I did it for myself,” you answered honestly. Sukuna stopped in the middle of the road, shocked by the direct confession. “My sister not only betrayed me, but also the family I had left.”

“Why do you care so much about your family?” Sukuna held his forehead, exasperated by hearing you repeat that word. “Your father was weak, your mother sold you, Yorozu betrayed you and your other sisters abandoned you,” Sukuna asked you.

“Because I love them anyway.”

The king's lips parted slightly upon hearing that. There was no logic behind that answer. There was not a gram of reason. He had no legs or head, but he still managed to surprise him. How could you love such a broken family?

“That doesn't make sense,” Sukuna replied incredulously.

“Love doesn't need to make sense.”

The pain in his chest turned into a flutter of thousands of butterflies. A simple phrase made his cheeks feel hot, his hands sweaty, and he felt the need to cover his shame. A simple phrase made him feel an inexplicable hope that he didn't think he needed.

You looked up, you were almost at the top. You had climbed so high that it would be a shame to have to go down when you were so close. Since your sisters weren't there to run with you to see the sunset for one last time, maybe you could do it with someone new.

“Follow me, just this once,” you asked before taking one of Sukuna's arms.

He let himself be led by your guide to continue walking the path they still had to travel. They reached the top of the slope, where there was a large rock positioned perfectly to admire the rest of the valley and the human commune. The rainbow sunset, the small cabins, the leafy trees and the distant night worked in harmony like a beautiful piece of art. It was a simple sight but beautiful in its own splendor. They sat on the rock as if they were waiting for something. Maybe they were just wasting time until the sun set to return to the castle, as you had promised.

“My sisters and I used to come here every day. There isn’t much to do in the commune, so having this view is a small blessing,” you commented to the king as you watched the humans emerge from their huts, wondering if the threat had left. “What did you like to do when you were younger?” you asked.

“I didn’t have a good childhood,” the king answered honestly.

“But at least there must be something nice that you remember,” you answered curiously. Sukuna thought for a moment.

In fact, there was something he remembered. On the outskirts of the poor village where he used to live, there was a large forest that hid the most beautiful flowers he had ever seen. He didn’t know their names or what they meant, but he didn’t need to know to admire their delicacy. Their different bright colors, soft fragrance, and unique designs caught his attention. He caressed their petals, afraid of cutting them if he didn’t do it properly. A simple but welcoming and delicate touch brought him peace. Sometimes he came across a bee or two that brightened his view with their plump and fluffy bodies. The flowers were the only thing he didn't want to destroy in gratitude for never judging him.

"When I had access to all the books, I learned that if you arrange certain flowers with others they can have different meanings," Sukuna explained as he put his hand in his pants pocket, squeezing the box he had saved for that moment.

He hated to admit it, but Kenjaku was right. This was the perfect opportunity to propose to you. The great view of your homeland that merges with the land he leads, was a beautiful symbolism. They were completely alone, without any humans or curses lurking in their affairs. The golden hour was almost over, so it was now or never.

"You know? You remind me of daisies. They usually symbolize innocence, joy and purity, and you are all of those things," he explained as he looked at the horizon while he gathered courage to look you in the eyes after saying that with his cheeks flushed. “Sometimes they are hard to read because they come in many colors and the real meaning depends on this, but that's not important…” He was so nervous that he was starting to get off-topic. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves.

Wait, why was he so nervous? Sukuna never got nervous, he was always ready for whatever he was faced with. A battle against a powerful sorcerer? A piece of cake. Ordering his troops in complicated strategies? An everyday occurrence. Declaring war against humanity? The dream. Proposing? It made his hair stand on end. He couldn't believe he felt his heart beating at the possible response of his prospective wife. He was sure she would accept him, she had already done it once, he had to do it... Right?

“What really matters about daisies is knowing how many there are in a bouquet. If there are less than 3, it means friendship. If there are more than 6, it means pure love.” Sukuna stopped at that word.

He had read about it in endless poems, and it was a concept he knew existed, but he didn't fully understand it. He didn't know how it began or how it ended. It was complicated, unknown and could become problematic. For some reason, humans are fascinated with the wonderful idea that love knows no bounds. They lived for it, endured for it, and would even die for it. Sukuna was sure you would too, but him?

“What I mean is that I would give you all the daisies in the world.”

Your head rested on his arm, startling him a little. Finally, he worked up the courage to look at you and couldn’t believe it. You were completely asleep. Your softly closed eyes, your slow breathing, and your lack of posture were a clear sign that you had been sleeping while he was giving the corniest speech of his life. He wanted to be mad at you. He wanted to shake you awake. He wanted to throw the box with the ring in your face, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t even frown.

He covered you from the little sun that was left of the day with one hand, while the other caressed your peach fuzzy skin with all the care in the world so as not to wake you up. He was mesmerized by the way you breathed, the length of your eyelashes, your hair swinging against the soft wind, your hands resting on your lap and your lips slightly parted by gravity. You had had a long day, and you hadn't slept the night before, it was understandable that you were tired and just wanted to sleep to forget about the tragedies. Maybe this wasn't the time to propose.

The sun finally set behind the distant mountains, turning off the light completely. It was time to go home, but Sukuna wanted to stay there for the rest of his life. Chatting during the day, admiring you at night, and dreaming in his free time. Sukuna sighed as he realized why his chest had been acting so weird lately.

“Fucking hell,” he whispered, low enough to not wake you up. “You’re driving me crazy.”

Open fanfic commissions!

Masterlist.

Taglist: @bbnbhm @pxnellian @kbirdieee2540 @konigswifeyforlifey @kyo-kyo1 @calico-cheriies @imas1mpp @alone-the-honoured-one @vlads-dracula3 @bigraga-sk @nekee-lilac02 @shaazd @airandyeah @energiepie @awkward-walking-potato @delightfully-studying

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gloomy0x0phantom · 8 months

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When he falls out of love

Sanji x Fem!reader ❰ headcanon ❱ tags : angst angst aaaaaaaaaangst, falling out of love note : Thank you Silent Hill ost for bringing me so much sadness and inspiration today 😍

I hope you're ready to cry ~ ❥ Sanji will never tell you straight out that he no longer loves you. ❥ Even if you're no longer his soulmate in his eyes, he still loves you in some way, he doesn't want to put you through the pain of a break-up, a separation, so... he suffers in silence. He refuses to break up with you. ❥ He'll continue to tell you I love you, cook all your favorite dishes, caress you with tenderness and look at you with affection... he'll continue to make love to you, whisper sweet nothings in your ear and protect the flame of your bond. ❥ Over time, you'll be the one to notice the changes in his attitude and routine. ❥ Smoking like it's his last day on earth. The few cigarettes a day become a pack of cigarettes, and if he's been hiding his secret for a long time... two packs. This disastrous situation causes him stress that crushes all his energy, but when he takes a drag from a cig, everything seems to fall back into place for a few seconds. It's his only way of relaxing, although it hurts him in the end. ❥ When you wake up at night, he's no longer by your side. Sanji has always taken a few hours at night to prepare the ingredients for the next day, but he usually hurries back to cuddle with you and sleep. Now he's gone until the early hours of the morning. When you go to ask him to come with you, he looks at you with hearts in his eyes and promises to join you as soon as he finishes his chores. You end up falling asleep, alone... In reality, Sanji feels unable to share a bed with you, so he sleeps on the kitchen bench and wakes up before the others so as not to worry them. ❥ Sanji spends a lot more time in the kitchen trying out new dishes. He's so busy, it interferes with your activities as a couple, like: taking a bath together, napping, playing little games to keep you occupied, the cooking lessons Sanji used to give you that always ended up in the pantry... But it's normal for Sanji to be focused on his end, he's a chef and cooking is his art. It's totally normal, right? ❥ Sometimes, in very rare moments, Sanji slips up. When you walk out of your room in an outfit that suits you so well, you expect to get a completely over-the-top reaction from your boyfriend, but no... for a few seconds, your eyes meet and you see the emptiness in his blue ones. Sanji is startled and notices what has just happened, so to make up for it, he blurts out "My precious goddess, you're so beautiful, my brain has stopped working! What did I do in a previous life to deserve you, mon amour?" ❥ Sanji is a loyal man, but now that his heart is separated from yours, he allows himself to fall under the spell of other women when you're not around. He can't help fantasizing about other women. Guilt eats him up and he feels disgusted imagining other women under his body or simply in his arms. He finds comfort in the fact that you'll never see what's lurking inside his skull and that, at least, he's faithful to you... physically.

It's his turn to keep an eye on the Thousand Sunny at night, and this moment of silence can only do his wounded soul good. Sanji sucks the poison from his cigarette and slowly releases the smoke. He gazes at the sea, imagining himself somewhere else, a few years before you joined the crew, when Nami and Robin were his only worries. He recalls the happiness that was born in his heart when you officially joined the team, his nose running a river of blood at the idea of seeing you around all day long. And of course, you responded to his advances! Unlike the navigator and the archaeologist, you allowed yourself to be seduced quite easily, and Sanji took his chances. He had a great time with you, and frankly, he wouldn't trade it for the world, but... even though you're a deadly beauty, even though you're a strong, independent woman, even though you're perfect... you were not meant to be.

Sanji sighs and slowly shakes his head. For heaven's sake, it's been months since he realized that he doesn't share the same feelings as you, and every day he feels as if a knife is sinking a little deeper into his back. Can he honestly go on like this until death? Alas, for your happiness, he's willing to do the impossible, because at the end of the day, you're still his crewmate.

"Sanji, are you crying?"

The cook straightens up, he hadn't heard you coming. You shouldn't be awake, it's late at night, but you haven't been sleeping very well for a while. No idea why. Anyway, you weren't lying in your question, tears were indeed running down the blond's cheeks. You approach him carefully and wipe away his tears with a sad smile. The gesture provokes a sob from your boyfriend, so you open your arms wide and welcome him warmly. You stroke his back and try to comfort him as best you can.

"I don't know what you're trying to run away from, I don't know what's going on in your head, but I know you can defeat whatever's trying to hurt you. You're a strong man, Sanji, I believe in you."

The two of you part and look into each other's eyes. It's not the first time you've shared a long look full of undertones, but this time you both seem to be looking for something in the other's gaze. Sanji can't take it anymore, he can't take it anymore, but you're so perfect… What could he possibly blame you for, even if he tried to break up with you? You're thoughtful, caring, a good listener, you share your food with him, you give him little gifts, you compliment him every chance you get, honestly, you're the dream girlfriend. So, so, so perfect…

Sanji closes his eyes and presses his forehead against yours.

“Je t’aime. Je t’aime si, si fort…” (I love you. I love you so, so much.)

In your turn, you break down under the weight of emotion, you start to cry like him and don't hold back any tears. Your hands tighten on his shoulders and you try to remain calm. You knew it was a bad idea to approach him like that at night, but insomnia and bad feelings convinced you to join him under the moon. Honestly, you thought you'd found the courage to end your relationship, but seeing Sanji in this state? You know that parting with him would only break his heart and drive him deeper into darkness. You don't know what's been going on with him for the last few weeks, but it's obvious that he needs love and so you can't break up with him. One day, you'll tell him the truth... but for tonight, you've got to fulfill your duty as his, perfect, girlfriend.

“I know.”

#sanji x reader #sanji x y/n #sanji headcanons #one piece x reader #headcanons #x reader #gloomy0x0phantom

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 1 year

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That with mark and alternative Y/n was so adorable!!! :0

May i request like the aftermath headcanons? Like Mark begins to trust alternative Y/n and sees them now as his Guardian “Angel” and they become a duo! him bragging around school catching others attention like adam and Jonah? :3

Aw thanks! I'm glad you liked it! Also we're calling this an AU where "all the victims are besties and attend the same school"

If y'all wanna read the prequel it's here!!!!!

.................

Mark had prayed all his life for a guardian angel.

Never did he think one would come as an Alternate, of all things.

But...how else could he describe you?

Ever since that night, you've kept your promise to protect him, keeping him safe from the others who wanted to prey on his loss of faith and hope.

It still took a while for him to fully trust you, though, getting jumpy whenever he spots you in the corner when he's about to sleep or hears your voice all of the sudden.

And of course his nightmares have gotten 10x worse, but you're always there to comfort him.

The worst ones are where you sell him out to your "Savior", though those eventually faded.

You only went into hiding when Thatcher visited his house for a wellness check after his school's receptionist got concerned with his prolonged absence.

He didn't give away the fact you were still present, but did report his encounters with the other hostile Alternates, allowing the lieutenant to collect evidence.

Once Mark is determined not to show any M.A.D symptoms, he's okay enough to go back to school, where you still watch over him regularly.

Alternates haven't found a way to infiltrate schools yet, but you didn't wanna take any chances.

From your observations, you learn that he's quite the shy/loner kid, sometimes getting teased by others for his personality alone.

You also learned that Cesar usually rushed to his defense...but with him gone, Mark was pretty much on his own now.

One day, he's drawing you during class. But when the teacher left the room for a minute, some jerk snatched his "Reassurances" notebook and made fun of him in front of everyone.

He managed to get it back, but he hid in the bathroom during lunchtime and cried for a while until you appeared in the mirror and asked what's wrong.

Long story short, you gave the bully M.A.D later that night and left them to their fate (spoiler: they were part of the 3% who lived, unfortunately, but they dropped out of school).

Mark's not one to condone this kind of thing from you, but....you actually did him a huge favor by getting rid of them. They've bullied him for years--ever since the day he shared that "scary night" story back in elementary, in fact, and they never let it go.

With them gone, he becomes a bit more confident in himself, eventually telling his friends about how an Alternate actually helped him.

Ofc seldom few actually believe him, though it definitely caught the attention of Adam, Jonah, Sarah, and Evelin.

They're trying to get a paranormal/ghost-hunting club established and think it would be neat to have a friendly Alternate as their mascot and/or helper.

They are surprised when Mark agrees to join, considering he used to say it was "demonic" and didn't want anything to do with the club--but you've changed his perspective.

Obviously they don't want any authority figures getting word of an Alternate hanging around the school, so they do their best to talk to you in secret, learning how you helped their friend that night and why you're so benevolent towards innocent humans.

Sarah and Jonah are lowkey nervous interacting with you (Sarah bc her brother nearly died thanks to the actions of two other members of your kind, and Jonah bc he's skittish around all things scary).

If anyone trusts you, though, it's Mark.

#clanask #anonymous #tmc x reader #the mandela catalogue x reader #mandela catalogue x reader #mark heathcliff #alternate reader #alternate y/n #platonic #headcanons

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devildom-moss · 1 year

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“I wanted to tell you first” (good) (the demon brothers)

What do the demon brothers go to MC first for? What is it that they desire to share with MC before anyone else?

(the demon brothers x gn!MC)

(suggestive for some of the brothers: Lucifer, Asmo, Beel)

Lucifer

You are the first to know when Lucifer obtains a new cursed record. Diavolo used to be the first to know and was occasionally the one who obtained the record for Lucifer, but now (much to Diavolo’s disappointment), Lucifer goes to you first. Unless the record is dangerous for humans, he’s excited for you to listen to it with him before he shows anyone else. Sometimes this can mean calling you into his study late at night so he can cherish a few moments alone with you. Until Lucifer can have you all to himself, he keeps the information about his new record a secret. The anticipation is subtly visible in him when he has to wait to listen to it with you. Sometimes, that means just being more lenient with his brothers, and other days, it elicits more laughter from him and sweet grins when he thinks no one else is looking.

“You seem to be in a good mood today, Lucifer. Did something happen?”

“You’re quite observant. Meet me in my room tonight after dinner.”

Lucifer will pull out a bottle of Demonus for the occasion. If you want it, he’ll have a short lecture about the origins of that particular cursed record – including the potential side-effects in case you decide you don’t want to risk it. He feels it is a necessity that you are prepared to enjoy the listening experience with him, especially for records that have aphrodisiac-like curse symptoms. Lucifer is always a bit horny for you, but if there is a chance he might want to pounce on you later and not be able to control his urges well, he’d rather you opt out early on and not have to see him like that. If you agree to stay, he asks you to spend the night every time.

Even if Lucifer has the opportunity to listen before he shares the record with you, if it’s a song or album he has never heard before (unless he needs to determine what the potential effects on you would be), he’ll wait to listen to it with you. If you ask him, he may tell you that he waited to listen with you, but he’s too embarrassed to admit how much he cherishes being able to share those firsts with you – especially considering how old he is. He never imagined he could still have so many firsts until he met you.

Mammon

Mammon comes to you first with almost any good news, but especially with news about getting good grades and other personal successes. Did he just win big at a casino? You’re the first one he tells. Who else would he want to spend his winnings on, anyway? Did he pass his last Devildom history exam with a B+? He rushes to find you and show you his exam paper with the biggest grin on his face. Did he score a modeling gig with one of his favorite brands (or better yet, one of your favorite brands)? He tells you as soon as he’s notified.

Mammon tends to preface his good personal news with “you’ll never guess what the Great Mammon did.” If he wasn’t smiling like a carefree fool, you might worry that he had gotten in trouble again. Although a quiet part of him believes that you really wouldn’t be able to guess what he accomplished because he isn’t exactly known for his vast array of successes, he craves your faith in him with his entire being. Mammon wants to surprise you with how good he’s doing for himself, but he also wants to impress you so much that you’ll never be shocked by his success. When it boils down, Mammon wants to make you proud of him. As such, he takes all his accomplishments directly to you. Lucifer is a close second, but the praise from his beloved brother could never compete with how he feels when you smile at him and tell him what a good job he has done.

Although he doesn’t mean to, sometimes after Mammon gives you the good news, he lowers his head slightly, eyes fixed on the floor, as if he’s waiting for you to pet him. If all you do is congratulate him, he will perk up and brag a bit (“Well, you are talking to the Great Mammon, after all.”). If you take the hint, his face will heat up and he may protest, but he’ll melt under your touch so quickly that his actions will betray his words.

“Stop pettin’ me already!”

“Mammon, you’ve literally been sitting in my lap and nuzzling my hand on your own for the past minute. I haven’t even moved.”

“Shuddup and go back to saying nice stuff about me.”

Leviathan

Not only does Levi come to you when he has an otaku fail, he also comes to you first when he has an otaku win. Sometimes that means calling you to scream in your ear about obtaining Sucre Frenzy tickets or unboxing his new Ruri-chan merch with you, but more often than not, he comes to you first about his game wins – especially when he gets a good gacha pull or defeats a tough boss. He has a few reasons for coming to you first. For one, Levi is used to his brothers and friends ignoring him when he goes on about his games and anime. Sometimes, especially in the cases of Lucifer, Simeon, and Barbatos, they have no clue what Leviathan is even talking about. Being dismissed or even ridiculed will hurt his feelings and ruin his joy and excitement. However, Levi trusts you with his heart, and he’s willing to put his joy on the line every time with you.

Another reason why Levi comes to you first with his otaku wins is because you are precious to him, and he can’t imagine wanting to share his happiness with anyone more than you (except maybe Henry 2.0). He’s usually pretty moody or at least prone to negativity, so when he’s hit with bouts of joy, Levi is eager to showcase this positive side of himself for you. Maybe if you see that he can be more than a depressed, self-conscious, jealous otaku, you might love him even more.

Furthermore, Levi is self-conscious about how he expresses his joy. Levi strikes me as someone who happy stims, often by bouncing his heels, shaking one or both of his hands back and forth as if fanning himself, or shaking his head. He’s so afraid that someone will tell him he looks stupid and crush his joy completely, but he can’t help it. The more he holds himself back, the more restrained and diminished his happiness feels. But again, Levi trusts you so much. He knows (or at least wants to believe) that he can be free to express himself around you – if no one else.

Letting him be himself, loving him enough to listen, and sharing in his happiness are precious gestures that he appreciates more than he can say, which is why he comes to you first with these things. That earned trust has adorable rewards, such as Levi getting so excited that he hugs or kisses you of his own volition before getting flustered but asking to continue anyway.

Satan

You are the first to know when Satan has inside information about new events and shops that he receives from acquaintances. Even if the event is being scheduled on the low, he trusts you not to tell anyone before it’s appropriate (and he’ll tell you not to say a word when he needs to keep the information secret). He wants to show off his connections a bit, but moreover, he just wants to let you know because you might find something new to be interesting and may want to start making plans in advance. Furthermore, Satan likes being able to take advantage of his inside knowledge to ask you out before anyone else gets a chance. The less competition he has to contend with, the better.

“Ah, MC. I heard that there’s going to be a pop-up night market downtown the weekend after next,” Satan brought up casually.

“Oh? I didn’t hear anything about it yet, but that seems fun – if it won’t be too busy.”

“I know someone on the planning committee. She told me that they just finalized the date with Diavolo yesterday. They’re just preparing the marketing and advertising plan. Are you interested in going – with me, that is?”

Satan wants to ask you out first, but he’s also extremely excited to share interesting Devildom events and places with you. He’d hate for you to get bored with the Devildom (or with him), and new things are a great opportunity to ensure you enjoy your life there.

Typically, Satan tells you calmly and informally in-person once he can get you alone for a few minutes. However, when it’s an event or shop that he’s excited for (especially things like new cat cafés and pop-up book sales), he might call you instead of waiting. If he does wait, he’ll be visibly excited when he sees you, eagerly getting you alone so he can tell you. When he’s excited about the information, Satan will practically beg you to go out with him. If it’s something he cares about, he’s desperate to share that experience with you (in part because he knows he’ll enjoy it even more if you’re by his side, and partly because he knows he won’t enjoy it fully if he has to think about you being there with someone else).

Asmodeus

Asmo wants you to be the first to know when he designs new products or gets on magazine covers. It’s so important to him that you know when he’s accomplished something, and as much as loves sharing his sense of beauty with his adoring followers, that could never compare to his need to share that with you. You’re one of the most beautiful things to ever exist in Asmo's eyes; it only makes sense that he would have to share his gorgeous creations or even more lovely image with you – he just also happens to want to share them with you before he can share it with anyone else. Asmo is so serious about you needing to know first that he will reschedule announcements if he doesn’t have the chance to tell you before the announcement would go up. If you hear about if from anyone else, he will sulk all day – even if you praise him for a job well-done.

“Ugh, but I was supposed to tell you!”

“I’m still really proud of you, Asmo. This jewelry line is gorgeous. It really captures your essence, too. The pink star ruby encircled by the scorpion’s tail is lovely, and you were the perfect model.”

“Of course I was, but I worked so hard on that line and that photoshoot took hours. I wanted you to know before anyone else found out. It was supposed to be a big surprise.”

“It was still a surprise.”

“But I didn’t get to see the look on your face when you found out.”

Asmo will pout no matter what you say. The best course of action would be to offer him some sort of physical affection (a hug, cuddling, kisses, head, sex) until he feels better. He may be overdramatic, but that’s how much he values sharing parts of himself with you and you alone. It isn’t until after Asmo fails to inform you first that he realizes how much he cherishes the few hours or days when only you two know. For that short window of time, Asmo feels the spotlight over him shut off, and he finds your body in the dim Devildom starlight where the only visible thing is your sweet, adorable face. If he’s lucky, you won’t be able to turn your gaze away from him.

Beelzebub

When you aren’t able to show up and watch Beel at his sports games and competitions, the second thought in his head after he wins a game (after how hungry he is feeling) is how you’ll react when you find out that he won. Beel will get giddy over the idea of you hugging him or caressing his cheek and telling him that he did a good job. He won’t rush home – especially if he’s hungry and needs to get something to eat – but his mind will wander and imagine all the ways you might praise him or reward him for winning until he sees you again. Beel will start to smile for seemingly no reason after a game, but that’s just because he’s excited to tell you how well he (and his teammates) did. If Beel is feeling impatient, he will let you know via message. It isn’t the same as getting to see your face when he tells you, but he still holds out hope that you’ll praise him in-person.

Before, Lucifer and Belphie were the first to find out that Beel had won. It doesn’t register to Beel that he goes to you first, and he can’t remember when or exactly why he started to do that. All he knows is that he has never enjoyed being praised by anyone more than you, and that’s justification enough for him to keep doing it.

On the rare occasions that Belphegor is the only one who can attend Beel’s match, if Belphie falls asleep before the game ends, Beel will let his brother stay asleep afterward – even opting to carefully carry him home to avoid waking him up. Beelzebub does that because he’s nice and wants to let Belphie rest, but he also does it so he can tell you he won before Belphie wakes up.

Whenever Beel is in a slightly frisky mood or has been feeling lonely, he will ask you to kiss him as a reward for doing so well. When Beel is feeling pent up, he may be blunt and sexual: “MC, as a reward for winning, can I suck your dick/eat you out?” Even if you try to explain to him that it sounds more like a reward for you, he’ll tell you that he just asked for what he wanted.

Belphegor

Belphegor tells you immediately when he finds out about upcoming meteorological events and new plants in the botanical gardens. He didn’t used to care about telling anyone about anything like that before you came along. If he found out about a meteor shower or saw an impressive new plant the last time he ventured to the botanical gardens, he might have brought it up to his brothers casually in passing – often days or weeks after finding out. However, after you, he can’t seem resist the urge to let you know right away, typically through a message. Belphie might call if the event is occurring at that moment or will be happening shortly/soon enough that he can’t wait for you to read the text. He might also call if he wants you to meet him in the gardens as soon as possible for a date.

Belphie uses these updates as an excuse to ask you out. When he tells you, he typically follows that by asking you to check it out with him. He doesn’t feel that he needs to specify that he intends it as a date unless you bring up inviting anyone else. In that case, he will clarify his intentions, but he’ll pout and be upset that you didn’t seem content to go with him alone. The reason why Belphie gets upset that you invited someone else is because both updates are about things Belphegor cares about. The stars and the gardens are two of Belphie’s favorite things about the Devildom. By telling you about meteorological events and new plant specimens, he is inviting you to share in some of his interests. He craves a deeper connection with you and figures that bonding over something you both enjoy might help, so he tries to expose you to cool (by his standards) plants and meteorological events as often as possible to get you interested.

Even accidentally rejecting his plan for a date to enjoy his interests alone hurts his feelings – as if you were rejecting a part of him. Still, the occasional rejection isn’t bad enough to make Belphegor give up on dozens of date opportunities every year. He’ll stop pouting if you give him enough attention or if you just give him a day or two.

(the demon brothers, bad version)

#lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor #obey me demon brothers #gn!mc #obey me headcanons #obey me luficer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me

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kissingghouls · 8 months

Text

The Date (Mary Goore x Reader)

Summary: You and Mary are still trying to figure things out, but you've agreed to a first date. (This is a follow up to Winter Chill because frankly we all need to kiss Mary more often. 💕)

tags: kissing, somewhat sexual situations, feral cats, and soft soft he/they Mary Goore.

A guitar solo wails from a nearly busted speaker as you lean against the dive bar’s tricky door. The air is stale and the floor is sticky, but Mary lights up when they spot you ducking past the entryway and into the dingy room. It’s obvious to anyone who might be watching through the smokey haze, but it’s a look meant for you alone. That half-smile, half-smirk is a signature look that really only works on Mary’s lips. It makes you feel too warm, too tingly as you drag your body toward the empty seat in front of them.

You don’t miss that it’s the only “nice” barstool in the place, the only one in the entire establishment without gouges or missing stuffing and exactly zero crudely drawn dicks etched in permanent marker. Mary must have guarded the thing their entire shift as it was a treasured piece in the bar—a mighty throne for all the “tattooed freaks” and “weirdos” that made up your social circles. You wouldn’t be surprised if the regulars had been threatened with certain death or worse—room temperature beers.

“The fuck you looking at, Goore?” you hurl at him as you climb onto the seat.

“You, darlin’,” he answers with a grin and a wink.

Before, you would have rolled your eyes and walked away. You probably wouldn’t have been here on a Monday night in the first place. But things were different now and a warm pink blush flares across your face at their words. It’s funny that it’s all still new, how all the butterflies and funny feelings still show up even though you’ve known Mary for years. But you’d never known this side of them, this genuinely sweet and ridiculously smooth side that they reserved for whoever currently held their affections.

Whatever this was—this thing happening between you and Goore—you were happy to let itself play out rather than giving it a name and getting attached too early.

“You don’t stand a fuckin’ chance, Goore,” Mary’s boss hollers with a laugh and tosses a couple of pity bills into the tip jar.

“I dunno,” Mary sings with a shrug. “I’ve got a certain charm, eh darlin’?”

“I guess you’re alright,” you reply.

Mary plays it cool, but you can see the way their eyes light up like they’d just won a million dollars. “See Pat? I’m alright.”

“They pay you to say that?” Pat huffs with a laugh.

“You could have a little faith in me, man.”

“Nah,” Pat replies in a gruff tone. He stands and pulls his leather jacket over his shoulders. “You treat this one right, Goore,” he instructs with a friendly pat on your shoulder. “There’s a lot of ways to make someone disappear.”

“Jesus, Pat,” Mary laughs. “What makes you think I won’t mind my manners?”

“I’ve met you. But this one? This one’s a good kid.”

“How could you accuse me of such a thing Pat?” you ask in mock horror.

“My mistake, kiddo. Try to leave Mary in one piece, yeah?”

“I make no promises,” you call out as Pat walks away.

Mary leans forward, elbows resting on the bar as he asks in a low voice, “you gonna take me apart, darlin’?”

“Shut the fuck up, Goore,” you groan, shaking your head. “Are you ready to go or did I drive all the way up here for nothing?”

They grin and grab the tip jar. “Lemme get my jacket.”

Minutes later Mary rounds the bar shouting goodbyes at the regulars and their coworkers as you juggle your keys in your hand. You do everything you can to will away the nerves clawing at your stomach, but nothing quite works until the two of you are outside and Mary reaches for your hand. They stop and pull you closer, bottom lip chewed nervously between their teeth.

“Thanks for this.”

“For picking you up from work?” you ask with a laugh.

Mary rolls his eyes and groans, tugging you closer. “For the whole thing, I mean. The date,” they reply with a nervous tinge.

“Is that what this is?” you tease, knowing exactly what the two of you had agreed on when they’d proposed the idea.

“You’re not gonna make this easy for me, are you?”

“Isn’t that why you like me?”

“Of course, it is darlin’.”

You reach up and press a soft kiss to his lips. He tastes like mint gum instead of smoke and you can’t help but grin at the thought of Mary Goore nervously chewing through an entire pack in the hopes that they might get to kiss you again. You can’t help grabbing fistfuls of their jacket to pull them even closer as you dare to deepen the kiss. Mary’s hands go straight to your hips as your heart begins to race.

“You’re fucking dangerous, darlin’,” they whisper against your mouth, eyes closed and forehead pressed to yours to savor the moment.

“Maybe. You like it though.”

They nod. “Very much. More than you know. But as much as I enjoy making out with you in the street, I do have a nicer evening planned.”

“You’re really serious about this date thing, huh?”

“As a heart attack, sweetheart. Gonna romance the hell out of you.”

“Bring it on, Goore.”

Mary laughs in response, fully accepting your challenge by running past you and doing a little bow as they open the drivers side door for you. They tilt their head as they wait for your witty retort, but you’re too stunned to do anything but stumble over a “thank you” as you slide into your seat.

It’s a short drive to Mary’s place, but time seems to slow to a crawl when he’s sitting next to you. You can feel the cold still clinging to his jacket as he directs you toward a spot on the street that’s normally occupied by his roommate’s van. He assures you it’s more than ok steal the space, giving you another one of those Mary Goore grins that used to mean trouble, but now they’re starting to make your heart stutter in your chest. As you throw the car into park, Mary’s face is haloed by the streetlight buzzing above and all you can think about is how badly you want to kiss them again.

“Stay there,” he says quickly and jumps out of the car, sprinting to reach your door before you realize what he’s doing.

“You’re out of your mind, Mary,” you laugh, shaking your head at the ridiculousness of the entire thing.

“Hey, I told you I was going to romance you, darlin’.” They hold out a hand and help you out of the car as you take it. Their fingers are soft, lingering just a touch longer than expected as they run a thumb over your knuckles. “This is just the first step.”

“Should I be worried?”

He scrunches up his face, pretending to think. “Yeah, probably. Come on, darlin’,” he says as he urges you toward the sidewalk. “It’s cold as shit out here.”

You follow Mary up a winding set of narrow stairs and lean against the wall as they fight with their front door. The winter weather’s made the locks harder to turn and you can see the satisfaction on Mary’s face as the door finally swings open.

“After you,” they say with a broad sweep of their arm. You’re still shaking your head as they follow you in and realize the apartment is freezing. “Fucking piss,” Mary shouts in frustration and rushes to fumble with the thermostat. “I’m gonna kill him.”

They wait a bit for the tell-tale click of the heat kicking on and the distinct smell of radiators warming up fills the apartment. You watch them move through the space for a moment, realizing you’d been here before. Some distant memory filters in and the room is full of half-naked people and those plastic party cups while music blares at an unholy volume. You can’t remember what the party was for—a birthday or valentine’s day or something equally unimportant—but your heart feels like someone’s gripped it in their fist as a perfect vision of Mary leaning against the wall wearing a bored expression and that same battle jacket appears clear as day in your mind.

A screeching sound pulls you back to the present and Mary’s rushing through the kitchen to the back door. You hear it again, not screeching, but desperate meowing just outside the door.

“Hang on, hang on, I’m coming guys,” Mary says with a laugh before turning back to you. “Sorry, they can always tell when I get home.”

As Mary carefully measures out cat food into two plastic baby food bowls, the meowing turns to howling cries as though the cats know it’s dinnertime. You smile as two small cats swarm Mary as soon as he steps onto the balcony. He sets down their food and grins back at you as he waves you over. “That’s Scratch and that one’s Sniff. They’re pretty sweet for being feral cats, just don’t try to pet Scratch.”

“I can’t believe that stupid rumor was true. Mary Goore feeds street cats.”

Mary shrugs. “Is it that hard to believe?”

“No. Honestly, it’s the one rumor I always hoped was true.”

“Hmm, so you’re saying you think about me when I’m not around?”

“That’s hilarious coming from the guy who’s had a crush on me ‘for-fucking-ever.’”

“Oh, because you never had a crush on me?”

“I never said that.”

Mary smiles and takes your hand. “C’mon darlin’. We have a date.”

Back inside the small kitchen, Mary becomes increasingly frustrated as they open and slam each cabinet shut. There’s a growl under their breath, throaty and deep like the noises they make on stage and their shoulder sag in defeat as they stare into the empty fridge.

“So…uh…” he starts and rests his forehead against the door of the freezer.

“What’s wrong?”

“I swear I had a plan. I was going to do all this nice shit for you—I was gonna make you dinner! But it…uh…it looks like my roommate ate all the food?”

“Were you…trying to impress me, Goore?”

“Yes,” he confesses quickly. “Trying real fuckin hard here, darlin’.”

“You know you don’t—”

“I don’t have to do any of this for you? Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s just…I wanted to?”

“Well, you still could right? There’s got to be something left in here,” you suggest and begin to search the cabinets. Tucked away in a back corner is a single box of mac and cheese in little cartoon shapes. “Ah! What about this?”

Mary laughs. “Probably about as good as it’s gonna get. This ok with you?”

You lean closer to them and whisper, “I kind of love that stuff.”

A soft smile creeps across their face before they steal a kiss and send you off to the living room. You settle on the sofa and pull your sleeves over your hands as you fold up to keep warm. The heat might be making noises, but it’s still cold as hell in Mary’s apartment. You know it’s the kind of thing they can’t help, but you keep your discomfort to yourself. You didn’t miss that hint of embarrassment under his makeup because things weren’t “perfect” when you’d arrived, but you weren’t sure how to tell him that none of that mattered to you. You just wanted to be here with him.

“Well, this is a fucking disaster,” Mary states with a self-deprecating laugh and drops next to you on the sofa. They swipe at their face, clearly still upset by the way the evening’s events continue to unfold. The metal of their rings clicks together as their fingers smudge their already fading makeup.

It’s almost cute the way Mary is aggravated by things not turning out as planned. Hell, it’s cute that Mary made plans, but you weren’t about to let them put you on a pedestal—lest you fall from it later.

“Mary?” you start softly.

“Hmm?”

You don’t really have anything to say to follow up, so you crawl across the sofa and straddle his thighs instead. You level your eyes with the pale green of his, watching as his pupils go wide at the sight of you in his lap. “It’s not a disaster,” you tell him, slightly impressed that you’ve earned his full attention. “It’s just a regular date.”

“Fucking hell, darlin’,” they groan.

“What?” you ask with a doe-eyed innocence that has Mary pulling their lip between their teeth.

“You’re something else, you know?” they whisper.

You shrug and lean in, closing what little gap was left between the two of you. “I can’t help it. There’s just…something about you.”

“About me?” he asks in disbelief.

“You gonna argue with me or are you gonna kiss me, Goore?”

“Hmm,” he hums, pretending to think once more. “Yeah, I’ll be honest I think I’m gonna kiss you. Like, a lot.”

“Yeah, I think that’s a good plan.”

“Probably one of my better ones, really,” he says softly, urging you closer with each word before his mouth claims yours. He smooths a hand over your back as the kiss grows more and more heated. He shifts beneath you, turning to pin you to the sofa as he hovers above you. The weight of his hips against yours is like a dream and you reach up to pull him closer. Tongues twist as hands tangle in each other’s hair, fingers gripping with hesitation to find the perfect pressure to make the other moan. While Mary’s kiss is aggressive, they keep their hips almost respectfully still until you give chase with your own, raising to meet the slow, tentative grind.

The sound they make—somewhere between a whine and a whimper—is so pretty you’re determined to hear it again, but it’s too hard to think with Mary’s teeth on your neck and their fingers trailing under your shirt. They’re leaving marks, but you know you will too as soon as you get the chance, so you tug hard at Mary’s hair and attack as they throw their head back. Their eyes shut tight as you nip at the skin below their ear and suck an angry red mark into their skin. They make that sound again and this time it’s almost desperate as their hardening length drags over your sex.

Before either of you can do anything about it, a horrific noise erupts above you. Mary falls from the sofa, knees banging against the hardwood floor as you sit up and try to catch your breath. There’s a haze of steam in the room and Mary scrambles toward the kitchen to wave anything they can in front of the screaming smoke alarm. When the wailing finally stops, they turn back to you sheepishly and burst into an uncontrollable laughter.

“Forgot—” they heave between giggles, “forgot—about—the food.” They finally catch their breath and wipe away an errant tear as they shake their head. “Darlin’ I might not be cut out for this fancy date stuff.”

“Is this a bad time to tell you that it’s fucking freezing in here?”

“Yeah, I think the heat is out. I might have been…trying to pretend it wasn’t.”

“Ah, well, do you have…I don’t know…blankets? Like…maybe on your bed?”

“Darlin’ are you trying to get into my bed?”

“Yeah, actually.”

Mary grins. “Ok, this might be the best date I’ve ever had.”

-x-

more stuff by me // ko-fi tip jar

#my writing #more Goore '24 #mary goore x reader #repugnant fanfiction #mary goore fanfic #mary goore fanfiction #reader insert #x reader #the band ghost fanfiction

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glowingbadger · 3 months

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Any chance of tied up and/or handcuff, afab reader with Seteth or Jeritza?

So this request came in while my requests are closed (including the funky special requests I've done lately), but, y'know... I had some thoughts anyway. Have I already written for both Seteth and Jeritza recently? Yes. Will that ever, ever stop me from writing more about them especially Seteth? Absolutely not.

Seteth, Jeritza x GN! Reader

Bondage/handcuff headcanons

NSFW 18+

Jeritza

Jeritza is very, very careful about restraining you. At first, he won't even consider it- he's too nervous for your safety, and he's well aware exactly what fate would befall you if he were to lapse into the Death Knight while he has you restrained in his bed. For some time, the very thought haunts his nightmares, until you both gradually deepen your trust and intimacy with one another. Over time, as he comes to realize and truly hold in his heart the absolute trust you have in him, it frees him to pursue a wider range of pleasures with you.

Eventually, tying you up becomes a way for you two to explore that trust you have in one another in a sensual and deeply intimate way. Seeing you helpless beneath him, knowing he could do anything to you and yet you have faith that he'll only give you pleasure and adoration, it sets Jeritza's heart racing. His touch is unusually reverent when you submit yourself to him like this, his hands worshiping you with the kind of devotion he'll only offer to you and you alone.

With your wrists bound above your head- perhaps latched around a bed post, or perhaps simply pinned down with one of his strong hands at your wrists- he'll spend a good long while simply touching you. With any other man, it may seem that this is meant to tease you; he'll run his hands along your body, watching the way your flesh yields beneath his fingertips, the way you shiver when he caresses somewhere sensitive, the way your eyes shine as you gaze back up at him with flushed cheeks and parted lips, and all the while his expression appears stoic. It's only because you know him so well that you notice the way his jaw tightens and eyes narrow as he watches you, his chest subtly rising and falling with deep, careful breaths as he fights to contain his lust.

Jeritza simply adores getting to watch you feel good at his hand. He's taken for granted for some time that he is an instrument of war, a being of death. Being able to bring pleasure to the one he holds most dear is a thrill he'd never believed he would experience- so watching you mew and whimper and plead for him with your body bound and vulnerable makes his cock throb with need until he has to feel himself buried in you.

As far as tying or handcuffing him, he's actually far more amenable. While it seems a little arbitrary- you both know he could easily break through any restraints you'd put him in if he truly wanted to -it is something of a comfort for him to feel himself held in place for you to have your way. It feels as though a burden has been taken from him, that he's far less likely to hurt you, even if that's only marginally true.

While he's not always good at verbally expressing his pleasure while tied up, it's obvious how sensitive he is to your every touch and kiss like this. His muscles tense as you press your body to him, his abdomen flexes as you drag your nails down his skin, and every kiss along his neck and down his chest causes him to strain for just a moment not to break out of his restraints and claim you.

That said... if you enjoy the idea of tormenting him until he breaks, that is certainly an option. While again this will take time and trust, he's strong enough to rip out of basically any kind of binding you'd put him in, so if your goal is to tease and provoke him until he frees himself and throws you down onto the bed beneath him, you'll be in for a long and pleasurable night as he expresses with his body the feelings for you that he's unable to verbalize.

Seteth

While the sexual side of a relationship takes a while for Seteth to ease into at its base (it's been a while for him, and he's so concerned with your comfort, despite his pent-up longing for you), it absolutely won't take long to realize that he adores both dominating you and being dominated in turn. The man thrives on power dynamics, so if you express interest in being cuffed or tied up, you'll immediately see the heat in his eyes as the idea takes hold in his imagination. Despite his usual stern demeanor, it's obvious how the thought of tying you up in his bed makes his blood run hot.

As with all things kinky (and all things in general, really), Seteth insists upon a level of due-diligence. He's rigorous in his investigations on which materials are safe to use when binding you, how to do so without hurting you, and how to sooth and care for you afterwards. Frankly, it's likely that part of his interest in exploring this with you was prompted by him happening upon a book on the subject when scouring the library's texts to ensure no inappropriate material be left within view of the students. This particular book was immediately secreted away to his quarters, and he's studied it thoroughly since.

If Seteth is restraining you, he's either punishing you or spoiling you. Perhaps you've been misbehaving recently, getting a bit too flirtatious during work or going to tea with someone else just to rile him up, and he feels the need to discipline you in his bed by binding you and tormenting you at the edge of release until you promise to behave. Conversely, when the mood strikes, Seteth can be absolutely doting- tying your wrists above your head so all you can do is let him spoil you, driving you to cum with your legs trembling and lips gasping his name over and over on his tongue and fingers before he even enters you.

Kink play can get very ritualistic with Seteth, and bondage is no exception. One of his favorite ways to dominate you is to tie you down and make you recite prayers beneath him while he touches you, refusing to let you cum until you finish, and harshly reprimanding you whenever you stutter or hesitate. In particular, there may be a few prayers to Saint Cichol specifically that he insists you ought to know by heart.

All of this said, Seteth is fundamentally a switch, and savors power-play regardless of who is in the dominant role. When on the receiving end, you'll never find a more eager and obedient submissive. Service is his life's calling, in a sense, and he's always thrilled to serve the one he loves. His pulse starts racing the moment you guide him down onto the bed and position his wrists together to cuff him, and he'll be rock-hard and red in the face by the time you've straddled him. He'll gladly submit himself to any treatment you offer him- punish or tease him, overstimulate him, use him, anything you like. Hell, Seteth has become so accustomed to controlling himself and his lusts over the years that he can endure a truly impressive amount of sexual torment, if it's what would most please you.

Either way, by the time he finally feels his cock sheathed deep inside of you, he'll likely want to be free to hold you and feel your arms around him in turn. For as kinky as Seteth can get, he's a romantic deep down (though he may struggle to express it), and he adores you in such a sincere way that, no matter how intense things get in bed, he ultimately wants you both to be able to share pleasure to the fullest.

#seteth #jeritza von hrym #seteth fire emblem #jeritza fire emblem #fire emblem #fe3h #few3h #feh #fire emblem x reader #seteth x reader #jeritza x reader #jeritza #fire emblem smut #fire emblem headcanons #fire emblem three houses #not sfw

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duncans-idahoe · 5 months

Text

Jean x Childhood Friend! Reader pt. 2

She/her pronouns are used for the reader, no description beyond that but she is based on a self-insert oc I want to use for a fic I may or may not write

Pt. 1

The night before Jean leaves for the cadets he spends it with the reader camped out on the roof of her house as they had as children

The longest they had ever spent apart was the week she had gotten a bad case of the flu, and even then Jean would sneak up to her window to cheer her up with embellished stories of his day or their favorite treats if he could manage to grab them from her parents bakery

But the next day Jean would be leaving Trost and they wouldn’t see each other until he graduated… in 3 years

She had tried to stay strong through the day, tried to joke with Jean and their families as they helped him prepare for his departure, and pretended like things were normal and everything wasn’t about to change

But now, underneath the clear night skies with nothing but the stars watching, she allowed herself to cry into Jean's neck as he sat and held her against him

She didn’t say anything when she felt his tears drop into her hair, he wouldn’t have wanted her to, he always wanted to be the strong one but that didn’t stop her from holding him tighter

“You don’t have to go, Jean, we can figure it out!”

It was the same thing she’d been saying since he’d announced he’d be joining the military, he was aggravated that she was still pushing the topic, but wasn’t surprised, she was almost as bull-headed as he is

“I’ve already signed up, if I don’t go I’ll be considered AWOL. You don’t want me looking bad on my first day do you?”

She let out a small chuckle at his attempt at humor and nuzzles her head against his

Jean kisses the top of her head before nuzzling her back

They’d always been close, but this was new

Lingering gazes and Jean's blushing cheeks have turned to clutched hands and light pecks on the cheek

It was a natural progression, one that anyone but them could’ve seen coming

And Jeans leaving had been the catalyst

At first, she had just been angry that he would risk his life just for a chance at the MPs, “Not everyone even makes it through Cadet training!” She had spit at him “And even if they do only the top 10 get to go to the military police, Jean! It’s not worth the risk!”

“I’m not everyone! I thought if anyone would have faith in me doing this it would be you but you’ve second-guessed me every step of the way.”

“I can't lose you, Jean!”

Finally, she succumbed to her fears and grief

Sure they both had other friends and siblings, they wouldn’t be alone in the world without each other, but they would certainly be missing a piece of themselves

If they were close before, they simply didn’t let each other go after

So now they sat side by side beneath the vastness of the night sky, wrapped in each other's arms, hoping that dawn would never come

“Just, don’t forget to write to me, okay?”

The cadets weren’t allowed to return home during their training, but they could send letters to loved ones that would be sent through the supply wagons that arrived at the training camp every week

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

#I debated just turning this into an actual fic rather than the headcanon format #but I think I just really struggle with writing and it's easier for me to do this #maybe i'll come back to it one day and do a revamp but I'm not holding myself to anything #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein x you #Jean Kirstein x Childhood Friend! Reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #attack #shingeki no kyojin

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lambowverde · 2 years

Text

Blood Of The Faithful (1)

Pairing: Ran Haitani × Married, Older! Reader

Content warning: Age gap. Brief description of a stab wound. Implied sexual content

Word count: 5.1k

Summary: In a chance encounter, Ran comes across you, a newly married woman with a husband who couldn’t give you the time of day. He thinks he can fill the vacant hole in your heart quite well…if you would only stop treating him like a kid.

Note: In just about every story of Ran I’ve ever read, he’s always had the upper hand. I wanted to see a story of where he desperately tried to win the love of a woman he couldn’t and shouldn’t have. And because of that wish, this story was born! Please enjoy :)

Ran first met you at his lowest, on a very dark, dark day.

Bleeding through his new Yves Saint Laurent shirt wasn’t his thing—and getting grazed by a knife in a fight wasn’t either. But you can’t always get what you want, Ran supposes. He’ll just have to buy another one later. He’s sure his father could spare the money. Better to spend it on your son then his typical prostitutes, right?

“Fuck…” He grumbles, his vision blurring and dimming by the second. It’s one of those nights where Rindou wasn’t with him, maybe out with a girl twice his age, or with his ‘friends’ who couldn’t stomach being around Ran for too long—much too nervous. It didn’t help that he broke his phone during the fight and lost his wallet somewhere amidst the bodies he left in the alleyway. What kind of gang brings 15 people to jump one person?

Either way, as he stumbles through the streets with crimson painting him, Ran finds solace in knowing that he’s at least in his neighborhood. He’s desperate to at least make it inside his own house before he collapses, but when Ran’s foot catches up on a rock, it sends him toppling forward in one of the most humiliating ways imaginable.

His body hits the concrete with a thud, the only light source illuminating him being the poorly lit street lights. For something that should’ve been expensive, (because his neighborhood wouldn’t settle for anything less) one might’ve thought it’d at least work better.

But it doesn’t, and as Ran tries to pick himself up and stand again, he finds himself completely unable to do so. The stab wound near his stomach throbbed painfully, his legs so weakened they were shaking.

How awful. His new shirt is an absolute goner, then.

And he might be too, soon.

Or, so he thought until he heard an oddly calm, melodic voice in the midst of a storm. “Oh my god, are you alright sweetie?”

Sweetie. How strange. Ran is usually the one calling people that, typically pretty girls who didn’t know any better when they approached him. And the last woman, used to be the only one, who has ever called him that was his mother.

That was until she stopped breathing, of course.

Looking up with whatever little strength he had left, Ran’s eyes widened once he met yours.

You’re in your late 20’s, no older then 30 but almost there, the maturity in your eyes and the plush to your skin told him so. There’s a bag of groceries in one of your hands, and you’re wearing an awfully, awfully tiny shirt, one that could never fully cover your breasts. Not when it was practically spilling out of the thin material, and ah—you’re coming closer.

The bag of groceries is the first to hit the ground, you following right afterwards. You look even more beautiful up close, Ran realizes, and when you put his head on your lap as you inspect the wounds, he thinks maybe dying right now wouldn’t be so bad. It’s much better to die in the lap of a gorgeous woman then it is to die alone in the middle of the dirty, insect ridden streets in his opinion.

But when he thinks of Rindou, his no good little brother and the most precious thing in his life, Ran thinks there’s no way in hell he could die now—or ever.

“C-Can you stand? You need treatment dear.” Your voice shakes as you attempt to help him up, but Ran must’ve been heavier then you originally thought, so he used whatever strength he had left to stabilize his footing.

There’s something comforting about your scent, it…it smells like a home. Not the one he lives in, with the shiny marble floors and the high ceiling with glass planes for windows, but an actual one. One filled with laughter, small corners and secret hiding spots, a room with regular windows and not ones made from colored stained glass.

As you speak to him, one sentence after the other, Ran doesn’t pick up on any of it. All he remembers through the haze of his injury and his squinted eyes was a door, and the warmth of your hand on his back.

And then, nothing.

The next time Ran wakes up, hes somewhere unfamiliar, and whatever he was laying on was…soft.

It all comes to him slowly, like pieces of puzzles falling to its place, but when he blinks and sees you above him—Ran realizes that he was sleeping on your lap.

He gets up much faster and rougher then he should’ve, especially considering that you were snoozing off with your head angled so low, it makes him worry that you’ll hurt your neck that way.

Grabbing your head, he slowly pushes you back so you lay normally on the couch. He’s in a living room, an extremely spacious one that rivals his own, and all around him were first aid kit materials like bandaids and disinfectant.

You…You him, it seems.

Looking around, he quickly realizes that this was your house. He’s standing in the middle of a spacious living room, looking eerily similar to Ran’s own. There’s a dog bowl in the corner (though he hasn’t seen any pets yet) and general decorations. There’s also pictures hanging on the wall that tells him so, of you smiling with an unfamiliar man, his hands around your waist, beaming into the camera. Or at least you were, the man that you were with looked somewhere between a scowl and a grin.

He must be your boyfriend—this man.

With brown slicked back hair, boring golden eyes and a somewhat sleezy smile, your boyfriend reminds him of a man he’d see hanging around his father. He’s undoubtedly rich, probably has a charming smile if he flashes his teeth, but at the core, they were all the same.

Just people hungry for power.

There’s more where those pictures came from, of just you and that man, one where you were at a Zoo, some restaurant, and…your graduation?

“His name is Minato, we married each other just about a month ago.”

Ran whips his head around more calmly then he felt, because quite frankly, he was too enamored by the pictures to have heard you walking behind him, a fond smile on your face.

Ah, husband then.

He doesn’t know how he managed to miss the golden band on your finger, a small diamond glinting back at him in the low evening light. It’s much too small, he thinks, and if he were to be your husband, he would’ve bought you the most expensive, beautiful ring there was. And if he couldn’t—then that just means he wasn’t worthy.

“You make a lovely couple.” Ran says, and he means it. Or at least, he thinks he does.

Blinking, he backtracks. Wait…think?

“Thank you, are you alright?” As you approach closer with concern on your face, Ran somehow found himself backing up until he hits the wall, your hand touching his forehead. “You were burning up earlier, and you had this wound—I was worried you’d get a fever on top of your injuries.”

Heart beating fast, much more faster then it’s ever had before, Ran took a moment to calm himself. “Y-Yes, I’m fine. Thank you for treating me.”

It fails, god does it fail when you flash a blinding, bright smile at him. “I’m so glad.”

Ran Haitani doesn’t get nervous. Ran could count on one hand, during his 19 years of living, just how many times his nerves took over him.

But in front of you, as you harp around like a worried mother hen, he finds himself absolutely frozen. Not with fear—because there was absolutely not one thing scary about you, but just…

Nervousness. He’s scared of messing up, somehow.

What was going on?

“Your clothes were soaked with blood, I’m not sure where you live, but you should probably take a shower first. You don’t want to scare your folks or passing pedestrians.” Ran doesn’t tell you that he only lives with his brother. Or how his father was abroad and his mother six feet under. Instead, he smiles.

“No, I couldn’t intrude more then I already have.” Ran began to step away from you, slowly, one foot at the time, eyeing the door. Something about you makes him feel not like himself. He’s never felt so out of his own skin until now, and he couldn’t pinpoint just exactly what it was. “Thank you for all that you’ve—

“Nonsense!” It absolutely startles Ran when you grab his hand, pulling him somewhere with much more strength then he thought your little body could hold. “You’re still so young, what if someone calls the cops on you? That could go on your record you know.”

Ran absolutely does not mention that he’s already been to juvie two times, or how he’s already taken a life at the ripe age of 13. If anything, he keeps his mouth firmly shut and lets you lead him.

Turning the corner, he sees a restroom, and you’re quick to push him in. “Take a bath for however long you want, please also make sure not to scrub too hard around your wounds, okay?”

Ran could only blankly nod, swept away by your rhythm.

“Take your time, dinner will be ready soon!” And with that, you closed the door and left, your footsteps receding and leaving Ran alone.

It takes a few seconds for Ran to snap out of his daze, still somewhat recovering from the hurricane that was you, but when he looks in the mirror by accident, he freezes.

There’s a color decorating his face, spreading through his cheeks and especially to the tip of his ears.

Ran was blushing a shade of cherry red.

“What’s your name?”

“Ran, Ran Haitani.”

Dinner, turns out, is yakisoba with chicken. The noodles were still steaming and shiny since it just got out of the pan, and the green onions topping it only made it look tastier. Ran has had yakisoba many times, due to that little store near the station, but it never quite look as delicious as this.

When was the last time Ran had a home cooked meal anyways?

“Okay then Ran, I hope you don’t mind some yakisoba. I wasn’t expecting anyone so I didn’t really plan a grand meal…” You trail off in a way that hints at signs of nervousness, darting your eyes to land on everything except Ran. And that was cute, adorable even.

“Don’t be, thank you for saving me and doing all of this. You’re a very sweet woman.” He talks like how he would to any girl, with flattery laced in every word and a smile just small enough to be genuine. You clearly believe it, by the way your eyes light up, but you don’t…you don’t quite look at him like the other girls do. What was missing?

“How could I just let a kid bleed out on the street?” You say, passing him a glass of water. “I could never live with myself if I did that. Now, eat up dear, it'll grow cold.” There’s excitement in your voice as you eye the food, like you couldn’t wait for Ran to try it.

Well, even if it was bad, he would never tell you so. The reaction you so clearly want from him is one you will get regardless if it’s genuine or not. He swirls the noodles on his plate and puts it in his mouth, he’s already prepared his next few words before—

“It’s delicious.” Ran says, his eyes widening with how much he meant it. You looked so eager for him to eat it, he assumed that perhaps cooking wasn’t your forte, but it clearly is if this is what it tastes like. The way the flavors all blend in his mouth was masterful.

You don’t reply, and when Ran looks up to realize why, he finds your shoulder shaking with barely contained laughter, until you break. “Pfft, so you are still a kid!” You holler, little giggles ransacking your body.

Your words bring heat to his skin, and Ran doesn’t understand why.

Sensing that, you’re quick to explain. “You seem…quite mature for your age. I saw uh, your tattoo’s.”

Ah, that's right, while treating him, you must’ve lifted up his shirt and saw the tattoo that he got matching with Rindou. Which, you did terrific at, patching up his wounds way better then Ran and Rindou had ever learned how to, despite the many times they’ve injured themselves and required it.

Grinning, he tilts his head. “Are my tattoo’s the only reason you think I’m ‘mature’?”

It’ll be a lie if he were to say he didn’t get injured lower, right below his v-line and very close to something rather private—but you treated that too, he saw it when he was in the shower trying to scrub blood from underneath his fingernails. He received that wound when one guy was clinging to his waist, trying to save his comrade from being choked in the midst of the fight.

Unexpectedly, you blush a daring red at his comment, and Ran is shocked by how quickly you switch from a doting hen to a shy, bashful woman. He feels like there’s so many faces to you, he couldn’t keep track of them all. Not when your expression was always changing. “I-I didn’t mean to violate you like that, it’s just, you were bleeding particularly hard down there! And I didn’t see anything…private.”

It seems like you really didn’t, and even if you did, Ran wouldn’t have a problem with it anyways. His dick wasn't something he felt like he had to hide from women—especially beautiful ones at that. “I wasn’t worried about that.” He says gently, and the smile he gives you seems to calm you down, making you sigh in relief.

“Oh thank goodness. I would never want you to think I violated you like that in your sleep.”

There’s something so…so cute about you. It would almost scream naive, but with your age, he wouldn’t think so. It was more like you were truly sweet from the heart down.

Rindou would like you, Ran thinks. Rindou liked his girls as sweet as sugar and as nurturing as a mother. Though the girls he usually sleeps with are none of that, having zero of the traits he liked with the exception of the physical department.

Now that Ran is looking even closer though…your breast would 100% catch Rindou’s eyes.

Stopping himself from staring before you could catch him, you gladly didn’t seem to notice it. It was a shame he’d never see you after this again. And quite frankly, he finds it to be a waste for a woman such as you to be tied down so early.

As Ran exits your house, truly expecting to be somewhere he wouldn’t recognize, he’s utterly baffled to be met with…

His own house, just right across from yours.

That’s right, wasn't there moving trucks here just a week ago?

The next time Ran sees you again, it was you who appeared first.

A week or two had passed since his last encounter with you, and while you appeared in his mind much more often then he would’ve liked to admit, Ran swore all he needed was time.

Time to forget you, and maybe a little bit of a distraction to help speed the process too.

Gripping the girl's hips, he helps guide her up and down, a steady yet rough rhythm that she doesn't seem to mind. “Move your waist, like that, hah…”

“Ah, ah, R-Ran—!”

He’ll have to change the sheets later, he knows, but that’s in the back of his mind. Right now, he could only focus on the warm heat enveloping his cock, and the pair of breasts that were bouncing in front of him wildly.

And just as he was about to cum, his cock swelling and his breathing uneven, a knock startles the girl who’s name he couldn’t quite remember, and your voice startles him.

“Hello?” There’s absolutely no way in hell that Ran wouldn’t be able to recognize your voice, not when he has been recalling the melody of it in his brain for the past two weeks. “I-Is anybody home?”

Rindou is out right now, he never liked to be here when Ran had his girls over, and it was just your distressed voice that rang inside his hollow home.

You sounded like you were in trouble.

Once he realized that, he pushed the girl off of him and told her, “Be a good girl and wait for a second, okay?” beforeputting on his pants and rushing to the door.

He thought he had been too slow and that you would’ve left by now, but you didn’t, and the woman he’s been thinking of since that fateful day was right in front of him. You were wearing a worried expression on your face, furrowed eyebrows that quickly shifted to pure embarrassment once your eyes landed on his chest.

“R-Ran?! You live here?” Ah, so you had no idea that he lived just right across from you. Which meant that your visit wasn’t for him.

He smiles his usual smile, hoping it’d offer you some assurance. “I do. Quite a surprise, isn’t it? Neighbor.”

Bringing his face closer to your own, he tries to make eye contact with you again, but you only blush and look away. It’s endearing. “I had no idea.”

“Now you do. Do you need something?”

At his inquiry, you snap out of your embarrassment, the concerned look returning to your face. “It’s Momo…” Your face turns considerably more pale as you speak. “He’s missing!”

Ran blinks. “Momo?”

“My dog that I got a week ago.” Now that he thought back on it, Ran recalled seeing pet food and an unused dog bowl in your living room, was that you preparing for Momo? “He must’ve gotten out when my husband accidentally left the door open, and I caught it too late.”

It was clear how worried and anxious you were, your fingers never took a rest with fiddling at the hem of your shirt, and your eyes would shift from object to object, never staying anywhere for too long. “He’s a Pomeranian with brown, fluffy fur and a yellow collar. Have you seen him at all? This just happened about an hour ago. I searched everywhere.”

Shaking his head, Ran runs a hand through his hair. “I didn’t, but I’ll help you search for him.” Your eyes lit up immediately at his words, and Ran’s heart clenched. “I’m sure he hasn’t gotten far. The more eyes the better, right?”

A relieved smile makes way to your face. “Thank you Ran, I—“

“Rannn~” There’s goosebumps that reach his skin once he heard a whiny, high pitched voice coming from behind him. Soon after, someone clings to his back, their arms wrapping around his waist. “You’re taking sooo long, come back to bed.”

It’s the girl from before, the one he should’ve never took home. Not when she couldn’t follow simple directions and stay inside like he told her to, having the guts to come out at the worse, possible timing.

Your eyes widened once it lands on her, and it seems as if you put two and two together. A look of realization dawns on your face with a blush. “Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had your girlfriend ove—“

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Ran quickly says, and perhaps it was much too fast, and much too firm for his smile to soften the landing of it. You flinch at the solid tone of his voice. “She’s…give us a second.”

Closing the door a little in hopes that you wouldn’t hear (or see) what he was about to do, Ran grabs the girl by the cheeks. Her eyes bug out as he did so, and he hopes that his smile was as sweet as intended, because his next words would be anything but. “What happened to being a good girl and staying in the room, doll?”

The girl begins to shake, but she’s also blushing. “U-Um, You were taking so long, and I—“

“You’re a bad girl, Izumi.” Her name came to him when his eyes caught on the embroidery on her bag, and he remembers the way she introduced herself to him a week ago. She had hair just like yours, and maybe if she behaved just a little bit cuter, she could’ve been more like you too. “I don’t like girls who don't follow directions, no matter how cute.”

Her eyes darkened with sadness, but she nodded in acceptance. “If you understand, put your clothes on properly and leave.”

Ran swears to himself, just then, that he’ll never get caught with another girl as long as you were around again. He doesn’t know why it matters so much, or why it bothers him so, but the thought of you thinking he was taken oddly…pissed him off.

Ran belonged to nobody, and that's how its been since he was born.

Searching for Momo proved to be much more troublesome then Ran thought.

Although he scoured every street, peeked in every corner, looked in even the dumpsters and trash, the small, brown pomeranian was still nowhere to be seen. Either Momo really knew how to play hide and seek, or someone else had already picked him up the streets and claimed him as their own.

You already alerted the nearby police department, so that if anyone were to bring in a lost dog, you’d be the first to receive a call. Other than that, it was just simply you and him out here, searching for Momo until the sun had began to set.

Your eyes are glossy, and you look exhausted from inside and out. The hair you had pulled so neatly in a bun was coming loose, random strands sticking out in all directions. There’s a tiredness to your footsteps that wasn’t present before until now, and you forgo your cardigan a while ago, but must’ve been starting to regret it as the wind started to pick up.

The sun casts you in an orange, dull light. But perhaps it only looked that way because your expression was so dejected, not that it lessened your beauty by any means. Ran doesn't think you could look anything less then stunning, no matter how worn out or fatigued you might be.

Taking his jacket off, Ran drapes it over your shoulders, hoping to ease your shivers as he does so. He doesn’t acknowledge the way it makes him feel, to see you in clothes that clearly don't fit you—his clothes that clearly don't fit you.

“Thank you Ran.” Ran smiles back at the drained, low energy smile you gave him in return for his jacket. “I didn’t realize it had gotten so cold out.”

Momo most likely won't be found soon, especially since it was getting darker and darker out. Not to mention, he doesn't want you out in the streets once the sun falls below a certain line. It was never safe for his mother, and it especially won't be for you. “You should head home for the day.” He suggests, and you open your mouth to argue back, but stops once you see the expression on his face, the one mirroring your own. “It's getting late, and it'll be harder to see. If he was around here, then we would’ve found him by now. We’ll take the search to a larger scale in the morning, you're tired, aren’t you?”

Though you didn't want to admit it, you nod anyways at Ran’s question. Perhaps knowing it was fruitless to lie. “We’ll make missing posters tomorrow, I’ll help you with that too.”

Tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ears, Ran was completely cut off guard when you embraced him, your body trembling in little shivers. You weren’t crying, not yet. But he gets a feeling you could only hold the tears for so long before they escaped.

And you didn't want him to see it—the kid you saved from the streets he still must’ve been, in your eyes.

“Thank you so much Ran, thank you.” You whisper, your voice muffled against his chest.

For the first time in a long time, Ran hugs a woman. Not for the sake of it, or for an act he felt like he had to do to pull something off, but genuinely because he wanted to. Because he wanted to comfort you. “Of course, love.”

It was impossible to miss the way you freeze up upon hearing the term of endearment. Ran quickly realizes that while he called many other girls pet names, he has never once called you one—until now.

But if the way you flush and smile up at him meant anything, then he doesn't think you mind it that much.

By the time the sun came down, Ran had already saw you off home.

And in the next second, he called his brother.

“Hello?” Rindou answers, his voice a little bit raspy, and there’s a moan in the background that follows right after.

Brother and brother indeed, but he’ll have to cut Rindou’s fun short. “I need help, something has come up.”

The moans stop, and Rindou’s tone is a bit firmer, filled with more urgency when he asks, “What? What is it?”

“A lost dog.” Ran says, perhaps a little more nonchalantly then he should’ve. “I need help finding a lost dog.”

“…What?”

As of the current moment, Ran has over 50 people searching for Momo, Rindou and him included.

His brother couldn’t fathom Ran calling people out to do this, but he surprisingly didn't question Ran like he was expecting Rindou to. His men, on the other hand, seem eager to help out, be of some use and prove their worth to Ran. Though he tried telling everyone to be quiet when walking through the neighborhood, Ran wasn’t sure if everybody heeded his warning as they should have.

No matter, he’ll deal with the consequences later. For now, Ran just needs to find that dog.

Your Momo, who you obviously have grown to love despite not having him any longer then a week, was the sole purpose of Ran’s search. You must have a big heart, and therefore have an abundance of love to give. How could the dog decide that the cold streets was better to be in then your warm arms?

Walking endlessly, checking every corner he could, Ran landed on a common playground.

It was a very small one, with little play equipment, nothing but one lone slide and three swings, but Ran found himself wandering over to it anyways. It reminds him of the one Rindou and he used to play in, where they would pretend to be rulers of a kingdom concocted from dreams and too many tv shows. But it was one of his favorite memories with his brother, and—

From his peripherals, a fluff of brown fur and something bright yellow catches his eyes.

Ran stops in his tracks. There was no way that…

It was.

Hiding in the slide, or rather—sleeping, was Momo. Your dog who has been missing this entire day, the one he left no stone unturned for.

This entire time, the little creature had been dozing off in the slide.

Even when he picks the dog up, it only stirred for a little bit, staring at him for a few seconds to only snuggle up in Ran’s arms and head right back to sleep. No survival instincts, huh?

While walking back to your house, and after calling off the search, Ran checks for any sign of injuries. Aside from simply being dirty, Momo seemed to be fine, like he spent most of his day cozying up in that slide and napping.

You would be happy to hear that, no, ecstatic. You’d smile widely, and your eyes would twinkle and you would thank him and mean every ounce of it. Would you still be awake at this hour?

Would your husband be home?

Was he consoling you right now? Wiping your tears away, offering you his chest to cry on, giving you comfort in ways only a lover could?

There’s only one car parked in front of your home, your car he’s guessing, and Ran takes it as a no, nobody was home. Nobody but you. The lights to your living room were still on as well.

Most likely, you would want to be reunited with Momo right away. Or at least, that’s what Ran tells himself as he knocks on the door. Not at all listening to the pitter patter of his heart that says he only wanted to see your happy face.

It takes only a few minutes for you to appear, wearing your pajamas as you stilled. “Ran? Wha…” Once your eyes landed on the peacefully sleeping creature in his arms, your lips tremble, and you gape. “…Momo…?” You whisper, in utter disbelief.

Unable to stop himself from smiling, Ran hands your troublesome pup to you gently, afraid of waking him up. “He was sleeping inside the slide of a playground. From what I checked, he isn’t injured.”

“But…How? Wha…?” You close and open your mouth with shock, holding Momo and peering up at him with the most beautiful eyes. It’s incredible how cute you can still look with such an incredulous face. “I thought you said—“

“I said that women shouldn’t be out alone this late at night, not men.” He smiles, and slowly, you do too. “Does this make us even for when you saved me last time?”

Teasing, he leans in a little closer, expecting you to blush as you always do. But there must’ve been something in the air that night, because you hug him close, Momo still peacefully sleeping in your arms as you found solace in his. “Thank you, Ran.” You whispered, voice low.

Slowly, hesitantly, because he’s scared you’ll hear the pounding of his heart, Ran hugs you back. His throat felt dry and rendered speechless.

“You’re such a good boy, thank you.”

There was a time where Ran was convinced he could have escaped your hold. That there was a universe out there where he didn’t fall for you, and he saw you for what you should’ve been—his beautiful, sweet neighbor.

Somewhere in his heart, he knows that it isn’t true.

Ran Haitani was gone from the very moment he laid eyes on you.

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x you #ran x reader #tokyo revengers x y/n #haitani ran x you #ran haitani x you #ran haitani x reader #haitani ran x y/n #haitani ran x reader #ran haitani hcs #ran x y/n #ran x you #tokrev x reader #tokrev x you #tokrev x y/n

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thelampisaflashlight · 1 year

Text

Names

[It's Dew lore time, because why not?] Below the cut.

A soul awakes in the darkness, cold.

But not alone.

It flickers like fire, a soundless whimper of confusion.

Of fear.

And in that moment, an all consuming warmth encompasses it.

Holding so gently, yet trapping it behind unseen walls.

A voice drones, somewhere far away and yet so close by it makes the soul ripple and twitch like water.

"I, who have lived in shadow since before it was known to mankind..."

"...Who was cast out and let to rot..."

"...Grant you, who knew both light and faith..."

"...Who sought Heaven and likewise fell from grace..."

"...a chance at redemption."

In Hell, Dew's name had been Parva, a word which, in Latin, means "Small" and "Unimportant".

His mother had chosen it the day he hatched.

"I had thought you were going to die."

She said when he was old enough to understand the meaning of it, of why it was such a cruel name to be given.

"Perhaps I wanted you to."

And Dew, ever determined to prove himself, lived and grew in spite of her wishes.

Still, so long as he was in Hell.

He was Parva.

He was small and unimportant.

And every beast that could understand, and those who need only see him to know, would take it upon themselves to remind him he was unwanted and weak.

He learned to fight.

Learned to sink his teeth into the necks of many of his kin.

To tear without mercy, for no one had shown it to him.

He would be as wicked and cruel as he needed to be in order to survive.

But still...

Still, there was a part of him that longed for something different.

And in his searching, he found Mist, whose name in Hell was simply "Aqua".

A name given to kits born of water with no pack, no family.

Together, they survived.

Until Mist heard a voice.

A calling from nowhere and everywhere.

And like that, she was gone.

Dew had been so pathetically lost then.

Sad and alone.

But more than that...

He felt a rage.

An indignation the likes of which he had never felt before.

He screamed and cried, wondering why he didn't get chosen, why only Mist got to leave this wretched place.

And then he remembered and laughed.

He was nothing.

The years would go by and Dew would find himself one among a pack of a hundred, all answering to one dominant ghoul.

A fierce and wicked tempered fire ghoul who renamed him to Donum as a joke.

"Since you were so keen to give yourself to me as if you were something precious." He'd laughed in his face, but still called Dew to his side often.

Beckoning to him like a dog.

And Dew, who was bereft of affection, had all but crawled to him time and time again...

Until that bastard made the mistake of inviting him into his bed.

The chaos that ensued when he dragged his body by hair and horn out of his fortress and cast him upon the rock outside...

Dew should have felt powerful.

But instead he felt... hollow.

He felt... guilty.

Ashamed at what he had done.

But as he tried and failed to convince himself that he could have been happy continuing to play to the whims of a mad man...

Dew heard a voice.

A calling.

From nowhere and everywhere.

And when he next awoke, it was to the sounds of...

Well, in retrospect, he knows they were birds, but a live in Hell had not told him much about what Earth, the surface, was like.

Stumbling over his tongue, he can remember asking, so genuinely curious...

"Is that?"

"Hm?"

"Whaaat isss that?"

"That's a bird." Omega told him, smiling so softly Dew had reached out and poked his face, uncertain what it meant.

"Is that?" he asked, squishing the older ghoul's face.

"Which part?"

"Mouth. Up."

Omega looked at him so heartbroken then.

"I'm smiling."

It took a while for Dew to adjust to life on the surface, and in that time, he found himself with a new name.

"Dewdrop. It means a drop of dew. Dew is... small drops of water that forms on things at night."

Dew had furrowed his brow at the word "small", but accepted the name nonetheless, though he wondered...

"Parva? Yeah, I've heard others name their kits that before." Alpha had said, "It's a... I don't remember the term for it cause it's been years, but it's basically a temporary name."

"Temporary?"

Alpha nodded.

"You name kits things like that as a way of... I dunno, changing their fate? If you name your kit 'Parva', you're basically making it so people don't, uhh... It's like the evil eye stuff." He explained, "You give your kit a silly or slightly rude name to avoid incurring sky man's wrath or something like that."

"Sky man?"

"The big man upstairs."

Dew blinked at him.

"Papa Nihil is not very tall..."

Alpha smacked the back of his head.

"The G word, Dew boy."

"Oh." Dew hummed, "So... Naming your kit that because you thought it was going to die..."

The way Alpha looked at him then.

It was the only time he'd seen the man look so sad.

"You're not Parva anymore, Dewy... You're Dewy." he had said, "You're our stupid little Dew boy, our Dewdrop."

"When you say it like that-"

"Shut up, you know I'm not good at words."

So... Dewdrop then.

Or Pordwed, if you spelled it backwards.

He'd done that a couple times to prove to Omega he was okay after clonking his head or drinking too much.

Dewdrop.

Yeah, he could live with that.

#Lamp writes #nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #ghost band #ghost bc #the band ghost #ghost band fanfic #ghost band headcanons #nameless ghoul headcanons #I'm on my second cup of coffee and avoiding leaving my room lol

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willowhaired · 1 year

Text

Fresh Start

Jeb Pyre × Reader

Summary: After shutting the case of the Lafferty brothers, Jeb finds it difficult to find his place in the church - so much so that he divorces his wife and starts anew in Boulder, Colorado. What he didn't expect was a pretty evidence handler at the Boulder PD.

(Please note that in this story Jeb has no children.)

Word count: 3,381

Warnings: mentions of religion, swearing, a bit steamy but nothing explicit

After shutting the case, Jeb tried his best to re-integrate into his community. To at least "sing the song", even if he no longer believed the words, as his partner suggested - but he was still eyed with suspicion and the forceful kindness of his fellow churchgoers became sickening. He felt as if he was tested, and they pressured him into recanting his beliefs at every opportunity. It was the worst with his wife who got him promising he'd stay faithful to the church whenever she felt uneasy, which was more often than he liked. He could see her mind turn whenever they were in the same room as if he was under constant surveillance. It angered him, but he knew showing it would throw him into a pit even deeper.

Things in the bedroom were terrible. Beca was insistent on conceiving, and he didn't blame her for it. He knew what it meant to her. Still, he was growing tired of having sex - a thing which he'd never thought was possible for a man. Somehow, whatever trick or new lingerie his wife would try just made him desire her even less. Whenever he couldn't perform, he'd blame it on work, but that opened a whole can of worms he didn't want to talk about. Arguments were frequent and even calm days were disturbed at least by a quarrel.

He got out when his mother passed. By then, the tension was palpable, not only in his marriage, but in the church. Eyes were even wider and glued to him - they expected him to turn to his faith in a time of need as such.

But he finally felt free. He divorced his wife, leaving her in shame, and the bishop was quick to retaliate by excommunicating him.

He was finally free.

He moved to Boulder, Colorado, to escape his own home, the cocoon. It was only natural that Taba followed him.

'You could stay, you know?' Jeb said one day as they were having lunch together. He bought fries.

'And be left in the snake pit alone? Not a chance.'

It made Jeb smile. He'd never conceal the amount of relief this gave him. Because he was afraid. As much as he wanted to get out, the newness of the "outside world" scared him. To have his friend by his side on this new journey gave him hope.

They both got a job at the Boulder Police Department and Jeb quickly became a favourite among his superiors and fellow officers. With no family and a pain to drown, he was always first to apply for night shifts, weekends, especially holidays. He poured his all into work.

'You are becoming a bit of a workaholic,' Bill noted on one Christmas Eve. There was a snowstorm outside, unlike anything else he had seen in Utah.

'You are here with me every time,' Jeb pointed out, watching the wind raging outside.

'Yes, but I'm not staying overtime,' his partner adjusted himself in his seat. It was getting to him not being able to smoke because of the crazy weather. 'Besides, you're young. You should find yourself someone.'

'I have you.'

'I'm flattered, but I don't like you like that,' Taba chuckled but was met with the mortified stare of his fellow detective. A lifetime of conditioning is difficult to weed out.

'What I'm saying is,' he started again. 'This is a new town. Maybe there's someone who tickles your fancy.'

Jeb honestly doubted that. He didn't find anyone interesting, and even if he had, he wouldn't be ready to open up.

That was until you came along.

You were the new evidence handler, archiving and organising everything the officers brought along, let it be testimonies or physical evidence. You were young and sweet which didn't sit right with him: he didn't want you to look at all the darkness that was out there in the world. He reckoned you should be protected from it, living in a bubble, not having your delicate features be degraded away by the horrors.

But above all, you were incredibly attractive. He saw other police officers trying to charm you or readily offer their help whenever there was an evidence box that "looked a little too heavy". Even Bill got into a harmless banter with you on occasion - you were easy on the eyes, he said, and Jeb agreed, though not out loud.

He could feel his heart in his throat whenever you passed by, and there was an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach whenever you arrived at work. Looking at you felt like a sin.

It just so happened that the two of you were very similar. Even if it meant staying longer, you'd get all the handwritten notes typed in, each piece of evidence filed away correctly. Before leaving, you cleaned your desk, despite it being a catastrophe the whole day.

It was a Thursday night and the detective was about to leave to check out a crime scene. On his way out, he spotted you, at your desk, still lost in paperwork. He checked the clock and then outside: it was already dark.

'It's getting late,' he announced as he stepped to you.

'Oh, it's alright,' you shrugged. 'Just a few more things to file away.'

He contemplated for a second before turning to a young officer:

'Deputy Jones, when Miss Y/L/N is done with her work could you give her a ride home?'

'That's really not necessary,' you knew you were blushing and you didn't want to cause any trouble to anyone.

''Course, Sir,' Deputy Jones said without hesitation. Jeb nodded to the deputy and left you with an "Evening" and completely confused.

That night, he could not sleep. He worried you might not have been escorted home, or worse, took a liking to the young deputy. He should've taken you home himself.

Even though he was head over heels for you, you got the impression that he did not like you. He was cold, distant and you'd never seen him smile in your presence. When he dropped off any evidence, he seemed as though he was trying to escape the soonest possible.

'Five forged checks and interrogation of two witnesses,' you scanned through the documents on your desk, then flashed a warm smile at him. 'Anything else?'

'No, thank you,' he replied quickly, his mouth more crooked than ever.

You watched him walk to his office. It was a shame, really, upsetting, even. For one, you never gave any reason for him to hate you, and besides… You found him incredibly handsome.

He was eyeing you from his office, sometimes glancing in the direction of Jones, even though it was a few weeks after that incident. Jeb made it a point to avoid you, but couldn't fool his partner.

'I don't blame you for liking her,' he flipped the page in the folder of their current case. 'I would be surprised if you didn't.'

'I've never felt this way,' Jeb admitted nervously. His friend had a smug grin on his face before it turned serious.

'Look, you should make your move soon. Nobody is blind in this department.'

It was this conversation that ultimately pushed him to ask you out. It was a few days later, and all of your colleagues had left already. You were still finishing up some tasks and he tried to do his own, but his nerves wouldn't let him concentrate. Finally, he gave in.

'Are you staying for longer?' Jeb had to swallow for he felt like his throat was going to close up.

'No, I'm packing away for tonight.'

'Do you… Need a ride home?' He asked, then quickly added: 'I can take you.'

'Oh, I… Don't wanna cause you any trouble,' you chuckled nervously and pushed the last folder to its place.

'I insist.'

'Well, okay,' you gave in sheepishly and grabbed your coat.

The drive home was even more awkward, if possible. You tried to strike up a conversation but he hardly replied. He sat stiffly behind the wheel and kept his eyes on the road. He parked just outside your apartment complex.

'You know, Detective Pyre, you don't have to take me home.'

'I just like to know you're safe.'

'Anyway,' you said quickly over the sound of your loud heartbeat. 'Thank you for the ride.'

You were about to step out of the car when he blurted out:

'Can I take you out for dinner sometime?'

You turned back and were muted by surprise.

'You can say no if you don't want to,' he felt as if he was being suffocated by his own tie so he pulled it looser.

'Yes,' you hurried your answer. 'This Saturday?'

'Perfect. Pick you up at 7.'

Friday, he was a mess. If it was possible, he avoided contact with you even more which left you doubting he ever asked you out. The truth was, he didn't know how to react. You made him feel such emotions he was unfamiliar with; was he supposed to just wave at you as he passed by when he felt his insides burning with the heat of a thousand suns?

'Bill, I need your help,' Jeb closed the door of their office behind him. 'I'm taking Y/N on a date tomorrow.'

'Does she know?' His partner teased, but as Jeb replied with such exasperation, he knew this was no time for jokes.

'Of course!'

'So you finally asked her out. What do you need me for?'

'I'm nervous,' he leant to his desk and pulled his hand across his face. 'I can't even look at her.'

Bill glanced out towards you: 'I think she looks pretty, still.'

'Don't do that,' his friend begged defeatedly.

'Jeb,' Bill looked at him. 'Do me a favour and relax. Just be yourself.'

'What if the church thing freaks her out? What if I make a fool of myself?'

'There's no way around it, pal,' he shrugged. 'Sooner or later, she will know. Don't worry, I haven't seen her eat anyone. Try and enjoy it.'

It was easier said than done.

Jeb knew he was done for right as he picked you up on Saturday. You had a black dress on that hugged your body, and your shoulders were bare for you had your hair in a bun. Inside of him was a raging battle between what his former church made him think about your attire and what he felt. He was hoping he could forget about both, and most importantly not mention his past, but it was unavoidable.

'No, I… I have never drunk.'

'You haven't?' You asked in disbelief. 'Surely you were a teenager at some point.'

'Yeah,' he chuckled. 'I grew up in a very strict church. Alcohol was forbidden.'

'So it wasn't the kinda wine tasting that disguised itself as Sunday church, huh?' You joked. 'Are you still part of this church? Should I not drink?'

'No, no,' he shook his head. 'I was excommunicated. I no longer hold those beliefs.'

'So…' you swirled the wine around in your glass. 'Why don't you drink?'

'I guess old habits die hard.'

'Do you want a taste? It's sweet wine. If you like lemonade, you're gonna love this.'

You held your glass towards him and he took you up on your offer. His movements were sheepish, almost fearful as he held the glass to his lips and took a small sip. It really was sugary, with an uncanny resemblance to the way he felt about you: sweet but intoxicating. Throughout the dinner you shared a few glasses, most of which you drank, but he was finally easing up by the alcohol. Jeb felt his stomach warm from the wine; he was more comfortable with his feelings towards you, while also finding it harder to keep them in control. Your eyes seemed even more alluring and your cheeks were tinted red from the alcohol. He found it cute and smiled dumbly at you throughout the whole night; and honestly, with him opening up, you really enjoyed yourself. Not only that, you realised that you did actually like him: he was kind and wholesome and made such intelligent remarks you knew he was listening to your every word. You joked and gently poked his hand and his eyes lit up like a teenage boy's. He tried to (very seriously) pick out the notes of the wine, only to add at the end that it mostly just smelled like alcohol. He accidentally kicked you under the table and you teased him whether you were getting friendly.

You had your fingers crossed that the effects of the wine would stretch into the workdays.

But apparently, you spoke too soon.

'Thank you for the night, Jeb, I really enj…' you could barely open your mouth when he stopped the car at your home, and his lips were on yours. His left hand came up from the gearshift to cup your face as his quick, eager kiss was followed by a deeper one. You leant closer to him and rested your hand on his thigh. You got so lost in the sensations (the scent of his cologne, how his tongue explored your mouth against yours, or how it ran across your lips every once in a while), that you didn't know how much time had passed. Was it minutes or half an hour?

'I'm sorry,' he broke away abruptly. 'I can't do this.'

You couldn't really comprehend his words.

'I… I don't think I'm ready for this,' he followed, seeing your puzzled expression.

'We can take it slower,' you chuckled.

'It's not about that,' his body was turned away from you. 'I can't be with you.'

Honestly, this left you in shock. You don't remember if you said anything or just left the car - the whole thing didn't make sense. He was the one asking you out, the date went well, he came in for a kiss… Which was amazing.

You were confused, and above all, hurt. You thought that there must've been something so wrong with you for him to turn you down like this.

When Jeb told Bill about the date, his friend's first excitement died away as he heard how the night ended.

'What's wrong with you?' Bill asked, almost angrily. 'That date was going great and you chose to close it like a teen girl who hasn't fucked before?'

'Language!' The other hissed.

'That girl likes you. You come to me worried you'd screw up the date but you did it in such a way I would've never imagined.'

'It's not easy, Bill. I was raised to believe everything I've just done is a sin. Even though I no longer think the same, I…' he ran his fingers through his hair. 'Can't help but feel that it's wrong.'

His partner seized him up, sighing out the frustration he felt.

'I guess I understand. You do what you feel comfortable with. But she'd be good for you.'

But would I be good for her - Jeb pondered, staring at the papers in front of him.

That was until an office party: his colleagues pressured him into beer after beer, so he'd already had more than he should've. Then, you arrived - late, but no less beautiful. The cream dress you had on was a lot more modest than the form-fitting one you had on during the date, yet its satin fabric draped on your body perfectly. You looked better than ever, which he never thought was possible: your smile was charming and your eyes twinkled in the decorative lights - though he couldn't help but notice that you carefully avoided his direction.

The other officers were quick to bring you your favourite drink and they'd made it a competition who would make you laugh louder. Hearing your chuckles turned his blood bitter, and he kept shifting between chewing the inside of his mouth and adjusting his lips.

'And you, Detective Pyre? Anyone special?' A fellow officer asked.

'Who? Me?' He said, half-stupefied, then chuckled, his eyes on the table. 'No, no one.'

To be fair, since the failed date, you had been avoiding him just as he did with you. You gave a cryptic description of the date to your friends, and your colleagues knew nothing of the encounter: they merely concluded that Jeb's past hunted him, and that's why he was so uncomfortable in your presence.

Maybe they were closer to the truth than anyone thought.

You accompanied some officers out for a cigarette; you were craving some fresh air and the cold of the night on your cheeks. You borrowed a cigarette from Detective Taba to take the edge off.

'You, dear, look prettier every day,' he took a long drag from his cigarette after lighting yours. 'Is there a gentleman you saw before coming here?'

'Nah,' you smiled sheepishly as if the suggestion itself was ridiculous. 'I was looking after an old relative and my cousin arrived late to take over.'

'Don't act so innocent,' he scorned with a grin and gestured with his cigarette. 'I bet you make every man turn anywhere you walk by.'

He wasn't wrong: you only had to take some letters to the post office to come back with a date for the next day, but lately, all you had on your mind was the kiss from a certain detective. Even at work, especially after seeing him, your thoughts would slip from your grip to morph into his firm grip on your waist or the unmatching tenderness of his lips. You'd mistyped witness names and found that you had catalogued a set of crime scene photographs into the wrong folder. You were incredibly embarrassed, despite the officers only laughing at these mishaps, reassuring you that they happened more often than ever with you.

So, you avoided Jeb's eyes, knowing that their dark brown colour would melt you right on sight.

Even though Bill was nudging him every ten minutes to go up to you, Jeb couldn't bring himself to do it. All night, he had been imagining how your dress would fall from your shoulders if he'd unzipped it and how soft your skin would feel under it - softer than the satin itself, he was sure.

The air of the venue grew heavy with each passing minute. Jeb resolved to peel the stickers from the beers, while you were constantly entertained by at least two of your coworkers. They were all respectful, although sometimes a bit loud. You needed a few moments of peace; so you excused yourself to the bathroom.

Once on your way back, you bumped into him.

'Hey,' you forced a smile.

'How you're doing?'

'Good, good. And you?'

'Pretty wasted,' Jeb admitted with a chuckle and after a brief pause (during which he stared long into your eyes and your legs began to feel like jello), he brushed a few hairs that got stuck in your mouth behind your ear. You got a whiff of his cologne, something you only caught once or twice when he brought evidence bags to your table. It always left you spellbound.

'I'm so sorry about that night.'

'Don't be,' you said. 'It was an amazing date.'

Jeb was only half-there, his thumb brushed the edge of your lip.

'Until the end I suppose,' he said dreamily, as if not even to you.

'Do you like me?' You asked abruptly.

'I'm fucking mad about you.'

His answer threw your head in a spin. You grabbed his tie and pulled him into a kiss which he reciprocated with a groan. His hands quickly found the small of your back from which one ran up into your hair. Unconsciously, he gripped a handful of your locks to pull your head back and give him better access to your lips. You were rendered weak with a wave of emotion but this very same thing reminded you where you were and that any second colleague could appear.

You cupped his face and gently pulled away.

'Maybe this is not the best place…'

'No, it isn't,' he agreed. 'I want to make it up to you. Please, let me take you on another date.'

'I'm free on Sunday.'

'Well, not anymore.'

#jeb pyre x reader #jeb pyre #utboh #under the banner of heaven #andrew garfield #andrew garfield x reader #reader insert #jeb pyre imagine #andrew garfield imagine

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niniane17 · 4 months

Text

Since it's the time of the year that I can't help but remember how, in only forty minutes, D&D managed to destroy a multi million franchise that had been on top of the world for a decade, I want to share something that I only recently found out about the infamous episode titled The Bells. Predictably, it's insanely stupid. I realize this is probably old news for everyone, but I can never miss a chance to make fun of those assholes.

So, by now The Bells episode has been dissed to hell and back, and I have watched and read countless mocking of the godawful script. One thing that stuck with me, though, was the idea that the events were inspired by Edgar Allan Poe's poem also titled The Bells, which I hadn't read.

Now, at the time there were still a lot of people trying to make sense of the show by using any possible fancy-sounding reference they could find, so I didn't think much of it. It did, however, have the unfortunate effect of causing me an aversion towards that poem, which was a shame, since I normally love Poe.

Some time ago I finally managed to get around reading it, and it turns out the D&D apologists were right - only not in the way they thought. I strongly advice to read the whole poem because it's beautiful, but the most relevant stanza is the final one, and it's very evident why:

(highlight mine)

And the people—ah, the people—

They that dwell up in the steeple,

All alone,

And who tolling, tolling, tolling,

In that muffled monotone,

Feel a glory in so rolling

On the human heart a stone—

They are neither man nor woman—

They are neither brute nor human—

They are Ghouls:

And their king it is who tolls;

And he rolls, rolls, rolls,

Rolls

A pæan from the bells!

And his merry bosom swells

With the pæan of the bells!

And he dances, and he yells;

Keeping time, time, time,

In a sort of Runic rhyme,

To the pæan of the bells—

I have no doubt now that those idiots were inspired by this, especially considering that there's no Night King in the books. What I can't really wrap my head around is how in the fucking world they thought that the above line could apply to Daenerys. This isn't even about thematic relevance, which we know they hate, it's just plot description. If asked "who do you think these lines apply to in Game of Thrones?", nobody, not even the most stident of Dany haters or the most passive of watchers, would answer "Daenerys" in good faith. Even Evil Dany is quite different from the above description. Were D&D really that dumb? My answer is yes, but not in the way I thought at first.

To me, this is further proof the original script WAS very different, until they decided to temper with it for some reason. Whatever scene there was with this poem in mind, it wasn't about Daenerys. But in their arrogance they thought they could just switch things up and everything would work just as well, including the "high literature" reference. This is how they see stories, apparently: just a series of cool images and scenes and fuck everything else, they are for book reports or something. The result is embarassing shit like the above, which really seems like a parody. It's also the definitive proof that it was never, ever about the books not being finished. That was a problem, but not an unsolvable one: after all, they had the original writer right there. It's about D&D not understanding how a story works and not giving a fuck about anything but shallow spectacle.

What a fucking waste.

#anti got #daenerys targaryen #night king #edgar allan poe #the bells #and yes i do remember dany's association with bells #it still makes no fucking sense #it never has and it never will

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theladyragnell · 2 years

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Hello! I'm jumping on the chance to request a ficlet, and since I'm in a bit of a nostalgic mood : Merlin/Arthur ! And for a trope... Truth spell and declarations? Sending lots of love your way 💞

(Wrote the first bit of this from Merlin's POV, hard drive crashed and I lost it, now finally back to it and reconstructed from Arthur's POV. And also it's 3k because I was having some feelings. Set in a sort of nebulous AU-post-s3 situation.)

When Merlin finishes talking, Arthur is silent for a long, long time. He has to be. He’ll scream otherwise.

“What do you expect me to do now?” he asks at last. “I can’t very well kill you, not when I’ve just gone to all this trouble to legalize magic.” And then, spitting out the beginning of the bitterness he knows will twist him up for a long time, “Coward.”

“I don’t know.” Merlin shrugs, so hapless, as though none of this is his fault. Still playing the bumbling servant when he’s just told Arthur how many deaths can be laid at his door. Arthur respects killing, when it’s necessary, but the lying rankles. “I just had to tell you. I should have before.”

“Yes, you should have.” Arthur runs a hand through his hair and wishes for simplicity. “How am I ever supposed to trust you again?”

Merlin shakes his head. “You’ve heard all of that. What more do I have to lie about?”

“If I’d told you for five years that I’d never so much as held a sword and then won a duel while you watched, wouldn’t you wonder if there were other lies along the way?”

“There may have been,” Merlin admits. “It sort of got into everything, the big lie. But as I think of truths, I’ll tell them.”

“There’s still the problem of me believing them.” Arthur waves Merlin silent before he can continue. “Get out of my sight. Don’t let me see you again until I send for you.”

With honesty, it seems, comes obedience. For once, Merlin does what Arthur tells him to.

When the door is shut behind him, Arthur sits down at his table, stares at the stupid bowl of apples Merlin caused to float in the air, his declaration when words failed him. There are a hundred thousand problems with all of this, but perhaps the worst is the knowledge that he’s been giving unreturned trust for years now. His closest companion, the first person he sees every morning and the last he sees at night, may as well be a total stranger.

But Arthur doesn’t have so many allies, particularly so many magical allies, that he can simply send Merlin away and have done with it. He’ll have to learn to live with this, but he still can’t see how.

I have an idea, Merlin sends in a note two days later, having become so close to invisible that Arthur wishes he could make a joke about Merlin’s sudden skill in being a servant. The trouble is that he wants to make the joke to Merlin, and jokes between them will cut, he thinks, for a long time.

Arthur goes to Gaius’s rooms instead of summoning him, and sits in frosty silence with Gaius while they wait for Merlin to return from an errand in the forest before dismissing him while Merlin is still gaping in the doorway with a bag of useless mushrooms that make Arthur suspect he’s still lying.

Of course he is. Arthur knows, but Merlin hasn’t made a sign to Camelot as a whole what he is. Nobody trusts Arthur repealing his father’s laws.

“What were you doing in the forest?” he asks when they’re alone.

Merlin frowns. “Meeting with one of the druid leaders. He wanted reassurance.”

“Did you give it to him?”

“Yes. I’ve got no reason to believe you’ll kill others when you didn’t kill me.”

Arthur isn’t the noble king Merlin thinks him. He knew that even before he started repealing his father’s laws. If Merlin had told him a year ago, or two, Arthur would have let him live and sent him away and continued killing other sorcerers. He hasn’t earned this faith. “You said you have an idea.”

“A truth spell. I’ll cast it on myself, and it will last as long as I want it to. I won’t be able to lie to you or to anyone.”

It’s a pretty offer. There’s just one problem with it. “And how am I to trust that you’re casting the spell you say you are?”

Merlin reels back a little. Arthur won’t feel guilty for that. “I could,” he says after several soundless seconds, “I could cast it on someone else you trust? Someone you choose. You’d hear me say the same words.”

“And subject Leon or Gwen to magic to assuage my worry?” They would do it, and he won’t abuse their trust for just that reason. There’s one answer, and if it’s the one he hates most, it’s the one that will set his mind most at ease. “No. You’ll cast it on me.”

“Why would you do that? I could, I don’t know, I could cast a spell to control you so you’d think you were telling the truth, or something else awful.”

To his own relief, Arthur discovers that he’s found the limits of his own distrust. “I think if you were going to do that, you already would have. No, you’ll cast it on both of us, and when I find that I can lie again, I’ll know that you’ve let the spell lapse so you can lie.”

“You want the spell on us forever? You’re a king. Kings have to lie.”

“That’s not the kind of Camelot I want to build. And no. I just want to know you’re telling the truth until I can believe it.”

After a long moment, Merlin nods. “I don’t know a spell that will compel an answer to a question, and for the sake of Camelot and your advisors I wouldn’t cast it even if I could. One of us can always choose silence. But if we speak out loud, it’s going to be the truth—and if we try to lie, the truth comes out too.”

Arthur would be less angry if Merlin had chosen silence, at any point in these last years. At least he hopes that’s true. Maybe he should speak it out loud when he’s alone, once the spell is cast, and know for sure. “I’ll take that. When can you cast it?”

“Let me practice the incantation. Tomorrow, but I haven’t cast this one before. I don’t want to do something I can’t undo, or that will go wrong.”

Arthur nods sharply. “Tomorrow, then.”

He doesn’t linger. Merlin’s hunched posture and obvious misery are making him want to reach out in comfort and he can’t give either of them hope like that.

Merlin comes to his room the next afternoon and pulls his previously-very-illegal spellbook out of a satchel. Arthur despairs of his attempts at secrecy and hates himself a little for not guessing before. “Are you sure?” Merlin asks.

“Just do it. I’m not the one who has trouble with the truth.”

After a shaky sigh, Merlin reaches out and says a few words in that half-familiar language. He gestures at himself first, and then repeats the words and gestures at Arthur. Nothing seems to change, at least not that Arthur notices, though he’s busy being disconcerted at the way Merlin’s eyes go liquid gold when he does magic. “It’s done,” says Merlin. “Try to lie.”

My shirt is green, Arthur tries to say, but somewhere between his brain and his mouth, it comes out “My shirt is red.”

Merlin’s mouth twitches with what would have no doubt been a tease if everything hadn’t changed between them. “Safe one. Mine’s blue.” His expression of faint surprise is a comfort. “My hair is black.” More surprise.

Arthur can’t help responding with a glimmer of humor. “What color are you trying to say?”

“Pink,” Merlin admits, and Arthur has to swallow a smile. There’s a moment of awkward silence where he would have filled in a tease of his own a few days ago before Merlin forges on. “Is there anything you want to ask, now that you know I can’t lie?”

Arthur considers his options. “Do you regret telling me?” he finally asks.

“Yes and no.” Arthur glares and Merlin shrugs helplessly. “It’s the truth! I’ve been wanting to tell you for years and I was too scared, and I hate you being angry at me, so I wonder if I should have stayed scared. But I think in a while, when you’ve decided how much you do or don’t trust me, I’ll just be relieved that I can finally stop lying.” He hesitates. “Do you regret being told?”

Arthur could choose silence, but it’s not going to help either of them to do that. “I wish you weren’t a sorcerer,” he says after thinking it through. “But seeing as you are, no, I don’t regret knowing. Only what we’ve lost through all the lies.”

“Do you think we can regain any of it?”

He can’t imagine a “Yes” coming out, under the strictures of this spell. He can’t imagine a “No” working either. It would be so much simpler if he could say either. “I wish I knew,” he says instead, and then, before he can be dragged into saying anything else, “You’re dismissed.”

Arthur wakes every morning and tries to lie. For the first few days, it’s stupid factual information, and it’s pure comfort when he can’t say it’s raining on a sunny day, or that he’s going to wear one of Morgana’s gowns to a banquet, or that he prefers the bow to the sword. After that, he starts testing the limits of the spell. He can’t, he discovers, say outright that he’s the best swordsman in Camelot, but finds he’s saying “I believe I’m the best swordsman in Camelot” instead, and other opinions or facts he can’t know for sure come out in similar ways.

He tests his own opinions too, and fails at it. He can’t say “I believe magic is good” any more than he can say “I believe magic is evil.” The answer to both is “I don’t know what I believe about magic anymore.” Embarrassingly, the truth between “I trust Merlin” and “I don’t trust Merlin” is “I wish I trusted Merlin.”

He doesn’t recall Merlin to his service, but he doesn’t avoid him either. He suffers through the quiet and competent service of various palace servants and watches Merlin out of the corner of his eye. He’s quieter than usual, which isn’t surprising. He’s also good at lying without lying, which makes Arthur angrier for a few days, realizing how many times Merlin just led him without adding more outright lies to his conscience.

“You seem upset,” he overhears Gwen say to him in a corridor one afternoon. “Are you and Arthur still fighting?”

“I don’t know,” says Merlin, sounding exhausted. “I was never fighting with him, anyway. I made a mistake and he’s angry. He’s right to be. I don’t know what to do about it.”

Gwen makes soothing noises, and Arthur slips away to spar with anyone who will agree on the training fields.

The next day, he summons Merlin for dinner.

“Details,” he says when Merlin sits down. “You gave me broad strokes, and I can fill in some of it, but I don’t know what magic can do, aside from evil. Tell me what you’ve been doing.”

“That’s a lot for one dinner,” Merlin warns him.

“Start somewhere.”

After a bewildered little silence, Merlin does. He wanders terribly, and sometimes stops and grimaces and says “This is someone else’s secret, so I’m going to change the subject,” but he explains how often he’s been pulling strings, saving lives and hurting other ones. He doesn’t pretend, to Arthur’s relief, that everything he’s done was good, only the best he could do with the knowledge he had.

When he drifts to a stop, with much untold but more truths told between them, Arthur leans forward and meets his eyes. “Now try to lie to me,” he says.

Merlin winces, but he doesn’t look away. “My mother’s name is Hunith. I know you hate duck eggs and that you ordered them because I like them. I’m still sorry.”

I believe you, Arthur tries to say, and is relieved when it comes out “I want to believe you.”

Arthur is the king of Camelot. He can’t dine with a servant every night. Still, in the weeks that follow, he sets aside time every few days to invite Merlin to disgorge more secrets.

Some of the stories are awful, and Merlin doesn’t try to pretend that they aren’t. Others, to Arthur’s surprise, are funny, and Merlin’s obvious disgust at everyone treating him like some legendary figure goes a long way to earning his sympathy. He’s spending some time with the druids now, and he doesn’t like the way they talk about his future either. At the end of every meal, he asks Merlin to lie to him, and Merlin tells him the truth.

It’s been easy, for five years, to dismiss Merlin’s importance. Princes rely on servants to do things for them, but they don’t rely on the servants. The gaps in his life and his conversations where Merlin might have filled in seem constant and unbridgeable, and Merlin’s stories make it obvious that whatever they are, prince and servant isn’t it.

“I miss him,” he says one morning. A bare and simple truth, not qualified as an opinion.

It’s not surprising.

Merlin tells Gwen, and tells Leon and the other knights who don’t know. Arthur has a fight with Gwaine and with Lancelot about things they’ve known without telling their king, in his turn, but after that, when those closest to him know what Merlin can do, he invites him to council meetings and forces himself to ask Merlin’s opinion on how to bring magic back, how to convince Morgana that he’s in earnest and wants her help.

Gwen and Gwaine both lobby privately for Merlin to be named court sorcerer, but there’s not enough trust for that yet, and anyway it’s something he’s hoping to dangle to tempt Morgana home, a position that’s likely to matter more to her than being a princess or even a queen, if she’ll only trust him.

“Maybe I should tell her I can’t lie right now,” Arthur muses over dinner with Merlin one night. “It’s helping us.”

Merlin beams at him, knowing that’s true, before returning to a troubled frown. “Maybe. I’m not sure if she’s ready.” He hesitates, but he doesn’t choose silence often. Arthur isn’t sure how much of that is penance and how much of it is relief that he can finally speak. He’s not ready for the answer to that question. “I would do it. Everyone says I should, druids and dragon and all. Have I really ruined things that much?”

“You’re very bad at politics,” Arthur says. “I don’t know what you’ll be in my court, but not that, not unless Morgana turns me down.”

“I could learn,” says Merlin, scowling, and Arthur teases him about it, learning how to talk around the lies that teasing so often requires, and the next morning, when he tries to lie and say “I trust Merlin” it nearly comes out.

They have a stupid fight. Merlin mentions Arthur’s mother, Arthur gets a refusal of parlay from Morgana, and they both shout unforgivable things at each other that are, unfortunately, still true.

“What kind of legendary king do you think I’ll be,” Arthur yells when he’s had enough, “when you don’t even trust me to make my own choices with full knowledge?”

“Because you do make choices that make you a good king every day! And you wouldn’t accept full knowledge about magic until you came to it on your own!” Merlin shakes his head, visibly calming himself. “You are my king, Arthur. You have been for a long time now. I want to be at your side.”

The affirmation of his loyalty feels like a knife in the back. It would be easier if Arthur thought he were trying to lie, but he’s not. After weeks of being unable to lie, Merlin still looks startled every time he fails at it. “I don’t know why,” he says, exhausted. “You’ve told me all these things, and I still can’t understand why you’re loyal. You thought I would have you killed for having magic, but I’m still your king? Tell me it’s not just destiny. That’s not what I want from you.”

“Of course it’s not just destiny. If some prophecy had told me your father was a legendary king who should have my full loyalty, I’d have run off to live in a cave. But you … I trust you. I trust your heart. I trusted that once you understood, you would do the right thing.”

Arthur swallows. “And have I lived up to that trust?”

“Nearly every day.” Merlin gives him a thin smile. “Whenever you’re not being a prat.”

It’s answer enough, and it’s the truth. Arthur kisses him, and in a whirlwind of arms and legs and startled noises, Merlin kisses him back.

“I love you,” Merlin says in bed later, intense and, somehow, true. “You don’t have to try to say it if you don’t think it will come out.”

Arthur could say it, he thinks. It’s not, though, the thing that matters most now. “I trust you,” he says instead, and he doesn’t have to qualify it. It’s just true. And, while Merlin is staring at him with wide wet eyes, he continues. “Take the spell off.”

“What? Are you sure?”

“What’s the point of it? I trust you,” and it’s easier even to say the second time, “and that’s what this exercise has been. Surely you’ll be relieved to go back to fibbing about where my dessert has gone.”

“And this has nothing at all to do with you panicking when that ambassador offered you a marriage,” Merlin says, but he’s already taking Arthur’s hand, saying a few words with his eyes flaring gold, and then saying them again, removing the spell from himself as well. There’s a long silence. Eventually, Merlin clears his throat. “My hair is pink.”

Arthur chokes on a laugh. “And my bed hangings are made of spiderweb. Which might actually be true, come to that, given who my manservant is.”

“I haven’t cleaned your bed hangings in ages, blame your temporary servants for that.” Merlin hesitates, smile going softer. “I do love you.”

“I believe you,” says Arthur, and kisses him again.

#fkyb #answered asks #sometimes i write stories

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xxx-sir-pentious-xxx · 4 months

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A Classic Courtship

Clean relatively, same era relations, heaven, courtship and disability

The heavenly sun shine danced over the cloud field. A beautiful peaceful sight for the Victorian woman. She was half blind, her eye having gotten destroyed when she died in the 1880's. She was to be married then but her groom up and stabbed her.

She never thought she'd find a love and often avoided people due to her eye being empty.

It was when she heard about a genius inventor who came from hell that she felt for once a longing. To be friends? Maybe. She just had to meet him.

Sir Pentious was set up in a old building with adverts stating he could do commissions for his craft. He couldnt do weapons but he offered disability aids.

His first project was for this sweet Victorian lady, her name was Eloise and she looked like a white Persian cat with folded ears.

She had little faith in the project but really wanted to speak to him, his voice was flipping her heart like a pancake. Soft words of affection and genuine kindness was surprising, he was from Hell after all.

"Ssso I'm gonna need to measssure your eye cavity and make ssure your not allergic to anything. Its gonna be great I promissse dear Eloise, you'll be even more beautiful that before I promissse."

Without prompting he took her head in his hands and leaned in to examine her eye making her shiver and laugh,

"Oh goodness! Ah, I wasnt expecting you to just grab me! Fresh... your interesting..."

Pentious quickly apologized and felt guilty for so thoughtlessly touching her in such a way. Not really noticing he was arousing the Lady's interest in him further. It wasnt until she giggled again and blushed with a inviting look that said, 'you should ask me out'. She was a traditional lady she wouldn't ever think to ask for his hand in courtship, that's mens work.

Somewhere in Sir Pentious stirred the romance he was taught in life, he was sure Cherri Bomb wasnt going to come, let alone be in love with him. He decided to take the chance and asked to take her to eat sometime soon to which she shyly obliged setting a date in two days at night fall.

Two days pass

During the two days Pentious had put together a working product that fit his new lady's socket. He just needed to finish the final step of getting the eye color right.

Eloise let him cup her cheek to angle her head in a way as to see the color gradient in her eye as he painted every last detail like a mirror to her current eye. He was artful as could be, a visionary. He was so lost in his muse's face he failed to see the blush burning her cheeks when he leaned in like before. It was just so scandalous, being manhandled like this. It was even more intimate when Pentious finally got her ready to have it inserted after the eye was dried and her head numbed.

She could feel the pressure yes but the relief she felt when the connections were applied to the right nerves and she could see, it was everything.

Pentious helped her blink and finally gave her a mirror after the numbness left. She was beautiful, beautiful and whole again.

"Why.... I... Pentious how.... it looks so..."

Her eyes dilated together seamlessly making her weep with joy. Her precious pawed hand covered her mouth to muffle her sobs of joy.

"I could kiss you Pentious. But that would be greatly unfit of a lady such as I...."

She kissed her paw and gently blotted her soft pink pad on his cheek leaving her lip gloss on his cheek. This gesture made him melt, it was so romantic yet reserved. The giggling they did out of genuine shyness would be mildly annoying to anyone else.

The date came around time and they two lovers ate in a secluded area and chattered about lives and death and of course dead life. After trading addresses and walking Eloise home the two could finally be assured they were eager to meet again.

Eloise began writing eagerly about the day, before deciding to trim some fur to put in a locket to some day give to her lover. Not yet though, they had to take it slowly.

Sir Pentious meanwhile fawned over the kiss still on his cheek, ever so gently shedding that spot and framing it. He simply had to cherish finally getting a lover.

The two slept and dreamt of beautiful things that mainly focused of their day. It was rather eventful was it not.

Cool

#Sir pentious #hazbin hotel #story #disability

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rosesoflilac · 1 year

Text

And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you dear.

Summary: MC's experience buying Taylor Swift tickets in the Devildom <3

pairing: lucifer x mc, mentions of levi and other characters

genre: fluff, some kissing, not proofread!!

a/n: i wanted to write something but have had no inspo until i realized i can combine my girlie taylor and my current game obsession together. look forward to different obey me and taylor content in the future!!

Everyone in the Devildom knew that there was only one person that you held above everyone else, even above the demon brothers, the demon prince, and their demon boyfriend. You would always find a way to mention this person, to spread their influence, no matter what. You believed that the Denizens hearing her sing, hearing her lyrics, would be a positive influence as it was in her life.

You loved Taylor Swift. Really, really loved her.

When you found out about the Eras Tour (Levi totally did not assist with jailbreaking your secret D.D.D.) you completely freaked. You had secured tickets to Loverfest before Barbatos teleported them to the Devildom (if it was never canceled, all demons would feel the wrath of a thousand suns). This was your chance to make the past right.

First, you needed a plan of attack. The first step was to get the seal of approval from Lord Diavolo and Lucifer. You imagined this would go smoothly and might include some coaxing, but you would be able to gain their permission. Then, they would get every brother, angel, and sorcerer to sign up for presale codes. The final step would be to wait, hope, and pray to any higher power out there.

You wanted this more than anything. To see the artist that got them through teenage angst, breakups, the growing pains, would be the greatest thing to experience, ever. The thought alone makes pressure build-up behind your eyes. You’d be able to do this.

Thankfully, everything went smoothly. Permission was granted, and various emails and phone numbers were signed up for presale. Waiting was the only wrong thing about the situation. You just wanted the anxious feeling to go away.

—

Lucifer picked up on your signs of stress. The nervous checking of your phone, the slip in your grades. He understood how badly you wanted this, how that made you nervous. It was similar to how Levi acted when waiting for the release of a limited special edition Ruri-chan collectible. Levi would lock himself away in his room and obsess. Lucifer has his whole faith in you that you would be able to secure tickets. He does not want to contemplate what would happen if you were unable to, he’d imagine it would rival one of Levi’s episodes.

Lucifer’s concern is how you ended up sitting on his bed between his legs as he worked on your shoulders. It was the night before you found out about ticket presale codes… And you were stressed. That stress slowly melted away as you leaned into Lucifer’s gentle, yet firm, touches.

He rubbed at the middle of your back where it felt tense. You hummed your appreciation and leaned back into him more, wanting to give him a break. “Thank you for this. I needed it.”

Lucifer hummed back, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as his arms slowly moved to wrap around your body. “Everything is going to be alright. I know you love her and want this, but I hate to see how it affects your health, my love.”

Your heart dropped a little, feeling the worry in your voice. “I promise I’m okay. I just… She means a lot to me. I would not be the person I am without her. Her music helped me get through so many tough times, even happy times… Especially with the last couple of years. The thought of being able to sing with her in person makes me so happy and I want to protect that happiness with all of my heart.” You squeezed his arms and shifted around to face him, taking his face in your hands, you smiled. “She even helped me realize my love for you. I didn’t want to tell you, but I have a whole playlist of songs that remind me of you, of us.” You looked into his ruby eyes as a blush crept up your face.

Lucifer’s eyes filled with love as he pulled you into a soft kiss, “You are special to me too. I’d like to hear these songs one day. But for now, you need rest for tomorrow.”

You kissed him back happily, leaning into him as he pulled you to lie down. Everything would be alright if Lucifer was by your side.

–

The following day was a whirlwind of events. Levi allowed you to use his setup, as it was much faster (also in exchange for rare Ruri merchandise), and now all you had to do was wait…

And wait you did..

Levi anxiously watched the screen and you. He understood how important this was to you and had been in this very exact situation multiple times- he had complete faith in you, unlike himself. However, that line was not budging. Until it finally did.

Everything happened so quickly. You searched and searched for six floor seats or a lower bowl- or literally any seat. It wouldn’t matter as long as you got to be there. Soon enough, you got the tickets and life was not real.

You immediately squealed and looked at Levi with a big grin and hugged him tightly, catching the otaku off guard. You screamed and laughed and danced as you ran to grab your D.D.D. to inform Lucifer.

He picked up before the phone had the chance to ring. Lucifer desperately wanted to be there with you but had other duties to attend to. He had been checking his phone every couple of minutes to see if you texted him an update.

Accepting the call, Lucifer stepped outside of his meeting and was met with your face filling the screen. You had tears in your eyes and a big grin on your face, he couldn’t help but smile at your reaction. He was so happy for you.

“It felt like forever! I swear- I can’t believe I’m going, that we are going!! Together!! Life is so not real right now.” Your voice was full of energy as you continued to recount the past few hours of your life.

“I’m very happy for you, my love. You deserve to go and I’m happy you want me to experience this with you.” Lucifer looked at his watch quickly, “I’m sorry but I have to go back to my meeting. We’ll have dinner tonight, the two of us, when I get home. I love you.” Lucifer smiled at you as you repeated the words back to him. Lucifer agreed that life was “so not real” but because he got to experience it with you.

Walking back into the conference room, he began thinking of all the travel you and he would be doing in the next year. Of course, he wouldn’t let you just go to one concert now, would he?

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